Orochxi Productions will continue the defunct project, Jidaigeki, which was under Orpheyeux LLC. Jidaigeki features ten films in an anthology dedicated to the celebration of Japanese history and culture. Each film will star Nishimura Riki in a leading role that takes the audience on a historical ride throughout each important period in Japan.
DIRECTOR'S CUT: Listen, Riki doesn't get a lot of love on here long-fic wise. I'm here to prove that you can be creative with him as an actor without creepily waiting at the clock until he turns legal (I said what I said). Anyway, this was ideated in 2021 when I still wrote for NCT under @/dhoya and @/sonatatine. Apart from allowing myself to celebrate my country and my culture, I'd like to dedicate this to Sukie and Atha, the two writers who have supported me since the beginning. I don't think I would've been able to rekindle my love/hate relationship with this hobby, so this one's for us.
COPYRIGHT OROCHXI 2023. DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.
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ERA: Heian Period
STARRING: Prince!Riki x Princess!Reader
SYNOPSIS: As the eldest princess to the Fujiwara clan, your life has been limited to the confines of your room. Your ladies-in-waiting are your only company, and you are not permitted to leave the four walls and tatami floors you’ve seen your whole life under any circumstances. Despite these rather restricting circumstances, you’ve grown to love the stories you hear from your closest lady-in-waiting, the one and only Murasaki Shikibu. As she tells you tales of love, romance, and the outdoors, you begin to yearn for a life outside the confines of your large, yet suffocating palace.
“Hime, why don’t you dress as a boy and play with the others outside?” Murasaki suggests one day after a large, rubber ball shoots into your window. Little did you know that this bold decision would lead into a double-life that becomes harder and harder to maintain as your father suddenly announces your engagement to the Nishimura clan.
ESTIMATED RUNTIME: 20-30k
GENRE: hannah montana double life thing meets mulan, royalty!au but like i’m also keeping this one platonic because i just wanna see riki be buddies and play kemari while enjoying his obligation-free life as a prince in the heian era yknow
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ERA: Sengoku Period
STARRING: Heir!Riki x Female Samura!Reader
SYNOPSIS: “I swear I’ll get revenge. I will avenge my family no matter what it takes.”
The Nishimura Clan was currently on the road to securing their spot as the unifier of Japan. After centuries of endless violence and war, the current Nishimura patriarch had his sights on the capital city, Kyoto, to finally seal his power and influence across the entire archipelago. Your clan, which once rivaled the military might and political influence of the Nishimuras, was heavily crushed and consumed within the bigger clan due to a string of infighting and betrayals that had occured between your father and his men. Instead of becoming a political bargaining tool for your clan’s survival, you instead picked up the art of the sword and vowed to come back and destroy the Nishimuras once and for all.
ESTIMATED RUNTIME: 20-30k
GENRE: Action
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ERA: Edo Period
STARRING: Kabuki Actor!Riki x Artist!Reader
SYNOPSIS: Say, a country locks itself from foreign influence for three-hundred or so years. What do you think would happen within that very long period of isolation? If you guessed a cultural boom, a stagnant economy, and overpopulation, you’re correct! Welcome to the Edo Period, a time where the rich continued to get richer, the poor started to learn how to read and write, and funky plays of men in makeup started to create a buzz in the local theaters! As the only daughter of critically-acclaimed ukiyo-e artist Katsushika Hokusai, you were at a crossroads between settling into a life of marriage or taking over the steadily growing workshop that your father had maintained throughout his years in the field. Unlike your outgoing father, you were a recluse, preferring to spend time within your quarters to help your father draw women’s figures or color some details in his pieces.
ESTIMATED RUNTIME: 20-30k
GENRE: fun! no angst for once! your slife of life bubbly platonic friendship where riki teaches reader the wonderful world of kabuki so you have more inspiration to start creating your own pieces!
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ERA: Meiji Period
STARRING: Bocchan!Riki x Factory Worker!Reader
SYNOPSIS: The fall of the Edo period had ushered in a quick change of tides in Japan’s cultural climate. Long gone were the days of layered fabrics and weird ponytails, and in were the fashion tastes of thick suits, a mustache, and shoes that didn’t reveal one’s toes. Although Riki had the privilege to learn how to read and write, he was now forced to do other things that Japanese boys back then couldn’t do—such as playing billiards, learning German or French, and going to a big school in an even bigger city! All was going well and he was slowly growing to accept the new and strange times he had to live by, until one day, he bumps into a rugged, poorly-dressed factory girl with bleeding hands.
ESTIMATED RUNTIME: 30k
GENRE: realistic fiction, angst baby, we’re gonna get into a bit of political commentary with inequality and industrialization
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ERA: Taisho Period
STARRING: Shosei!Riki x Aerial Silks Performer!Reader
SYNOPSIS: For a rather short era, the Taisho period was a time of liberation, freedom, and the closest Japan has ever gotten to embracing democracy. Riki was a young boy who couldn’t care less about politics, instead choosing to frequent the local theater to spend his allowance on movie tickets. With the growing rise of militarism and the pressures to go to military school, he found solace within the black and white frames of silent actors and the sound of a burning film roll. One day, he mistakenly buys the wrong ticket to see a circus act instead of his usual Western movies, entering a world of contortionists, escape artists, doves, trapeze stunts, and of course, the final act, you—a beautiful girl who danced on nothing but silk and air.
ESTIMATED RUNTIME: 30k
GENRE: Circus
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ERA: Pre-war/WWII Showa Period
STARRING: Riki solo piece most likely. MC appears in flashbacks. This is a war piece we know where this is going.
SYNOPSIS: The end of the war was approaching, and Japan was on the verge of surrendering to the Allies. Riki was now an orphan with no money, shelter, or food to his name. As he counted the days until he is eventually found by either the Imperial Japanese Army or the impending Allied forces, he recollects all that he could about his past life. How carefree and happy he was during a time of supposed economic growth and change, how the only thing he cared about was becoming an actor and moving to Tokyo to launch his career, and how you had always been there to support him no matter what. Now, all that was left of his dreams and your presence was a battered copy of Sorekara that you always carried and your hairpin, which had slowly rusted within the cramped, molding confines of the attic he hid in.
ESTIMATED RUNTIME: 40k
GENRE: Angst
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ERA: Post-WWII Showa Period
STARRING: Riki and reader as high schoolers in 60s Japan.
SYNOPSIS: Several decades had passed since Japan had surrendered to the Allies. After a period of poverty and tumult, the Japanese economy had slowly, but surely been building itself back. With more Western influence, people going into space, and colored television coming into homes near you, Riki spends his life as an average boy who was lucky enough to have been born after the war. However, misfortune would have it that he too, must taste the chaos of political tumult and student uprisings. With the height of the Anpo Protests, all Riki could do to tune out the noise was sneak into the music room to listen to the soft melodies of jazz that rippled from your delicate fingertips.
ESTIMATED RUNTIME: 30-35k (I'm being generous here this is perhaps one of my favorite eras cos we got the Olympics and the Moon Landing)
GENRE: coming of age, slice of life, realistic fiction, kinda like from up on poppy hill
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ERA: Early Heisei Period
STARRING: Parallel Universe!Riki and reader.
SYNOPSIS: Welcome to 80s Japan, where anything and everything can be cured if you have enough cash to pay for it! Living a life of high economic standards and prosperity, you really couldn’t ask for more. I mean, you were very pretty! You got boys to drive you around town in their fancy cars, and you also had the money to splurge into the latest fashion trends to stay on top of the game! You did kind of bad in school, but who cares! It’s the 80s! There’s surely a solution and a job out there for someone like you if you couldn’t pass the rigorous center exams! Life was great, it really was. Everything was supposed to go well, until one day, you start to notice small changes around you. The wall clock on top of your door was a little skewed, the set of nail polish that you just bought was now toppled and broken on the floor, and the radio you always listened to started to accumulate screeching, unbearable static that always managed to hurt your ears. What is going on?
ESTIMATED RUNTIME: 35k (idk dawg might surpass this is lengthy)
GENRE: magical realism, parallel universe trope, alternate dimensions and all that confusing stuff
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ERA: Late Heisei Period
STARRING: High school Riki and reader in 2000s Japan.
SYNOPSIS: Riki is sixteen now, which meant a lot of things for a boy his age. While he tries to get the girl he wants, he begins to dip his feet into the waters of life as everything changes around him.
RUNTIME: 51.1k (sorry)
GENRE: Coming of age, romance, drama
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ERA: Reiwa Period (current era)
STARRING: Idol!Riki x Normal Reader.
SYNOPSIS: Wow! Here we are, huh? After all those crazy events, we’ve finally arrived at a more mellow time in Japan. Everything is still as stagnant as ever, the GDP per capita is the same as it was twenty years ago, and even worse, the population pyramid has basically been inverted to the point where young people have become a treasured rarity! Your childhood friend was now all over the internet, and all you could do is sigh at the impending doom of a future enslaved within the cubicle desk of a large company. He had decided to leave for Korea to become a top idol when the two of you were mere middle schoolers, while at the time, you didn’t even think about your future or what career path you wanted to take. The only thing in your mind back then were trivial things such as whether you should leave your love letter in his foot locker or his school bag.
ESTIMATED RUNTIME: 35k
GENRE: coming of age, angst, slice of life, a lot of angst honestly
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ROLL CREDITS: @writingmochi @hyuckworld @wonvrse @petrichor-han @floraljae (if you are interested in being notified about Jidaigeki do shoot and ask)
niki as a regular japanese high schooler—a quick headcanon
a/n: back with another headcannon because i literally cannot get this out of my head. a quick heads up i haven’t been in a japanese school (international school kid woot woot) but i AM from japan so i was able to hear many stories about domestic public/private schools in japan. also i know niki’s from okayama and that’s literally so far from tokyo but i’ll base this off the city i grew up in bc why not. also i think (?) this april niki's gonna become a first year in hs, so that's a very big step for him!
right off the bat i'll start by saying 偏差値 (lit. school ranking? i guess?) is a very important factor when taking the high school entrance exams
no offense to him but i don't think he'd be the type of guy to aim for a good school, but at the same time he'd probably try to enter a mid-tier school to keep his reputation
it's not to say he's air-headed, but rather he just likes dancing/sports more than education, but i reckon every japanese parent would want their child to go to a decent school, so he'd do the bare minimum and get just enough marks to enter like, a mid-tier school in his district or city
considering the fact that his parents own a dance studio and dance, in general, has been a huge part of his life, i feel like he'd just go to high school to get a diploma and start working as a choreographer/dancer right after he graduates
remember this is if a. he wasn't in enha or b. he didn't want to become a singer/kpop idol
before i get into the details let me start with the basics: the japanese school year starts in april. the first term ends in july, and summer vacation ends at the end of august. then, the second term continues all the way until january, when you have your winter break. the third term begins around mid-jan, running all the way until march.
the japanese high school curriculum is catered to teach what students would need in the center exams (kinda like the japanese ver. of sats (us), gaokao (china), csat (korea), and abitur (any german-speaking country i think?))
there are quite a lot of subjects, so i'll do my best to list what i know: japanese (divided between ancient lit, modern (?) lit, grammar), soc sci (geography, history, world history, japanese history), ethics and society/citizenry (?) (modern society, ethics, politics, economics), maths (divided in terms of difficulty), sciences (physics, chem, bio, geology, research stream), english (communication, grammar, etc.), arts (music, art), home economics, physical education
obviously not every high schooler would take all of these. it just really depends on the major/career path you want to take in the future
although some of these subjects are a must !! and you are definitely obliged to know general info for all streams if you want to do decently in the center examinations
in japan, you are either taking the literary/humanities route (文系) or stem (理系)
from what i can see with riki so far, i think he wouldn't go to university
which, i don't get the stigma of not pursuing higher education, but if he can run a dance workshop as a literal child then i don't think he really needs uni
that being said, he would probably choose the literary/humanities route since he has made it very clear that he hates math and science
as such, he'd be required to take more of the humanities-related subjects to make up for his lack of sciences
here's the combination i'm seeing: geography, history, modern lit, geology, biology, physical education, music
in japan, i think there are eight subjects that everyone has to take, so i'm not listing that above
sorry i'm a bit rusty HAHA anyway with about 8 hours of pure learning i think he'd pass out of exhaustion
his first year would be very chill (like any first year ngl)
reputation and first impressions are very important in japanese society, and i feel like given riki's bluntness and playfulness he'd have a decent circle of friends
not that popular, but also not a loner
i don't think he'll be bullied especially since he'd have his growth spurt by the time he enters high school
he would stand out a bit because he does dance
might be popular with the girlies bc of it too
he did say he likes playing soccer so i can see him joining the soccer club for his club activities
club activities are also a big part of japanese high school life, and you rarely really see people who opt out of joining one
i mean there are animes where they kinda show people in the "going home club" but in reality, you sort of get scrutinized for not being in one
anyway sports boys do get clout so riki's in the safe zone
by safe zone let me emphasize: he is not getting bullied and he's definitely surviving high school
like ngl some of the stories i hear about japanese public schools, in particular, are quite rough so like bless his soul
he'd try to befriend his seating partner in the classroom
so, the way japanese schools work is the teachers come to the respective classroom, it's not the students that go to the teacher
as such, you rarely get any seat changes for the entire sem unless you're in labs or the home ec classroom
i don't think he'd make friends outside of what he does
like, most of his friends would probably come from the soccer club or the subjects he takes
he would also join a dance club if there was one, and he'd make friends there too !!
our boy can be a social butterfly with the right push, and esp if it's concerning his interests, he'd be sure to get along with everyone he encounters
a bit about the dance club but given his professional upbringing as a dancer i feel like he'd be stricter
we've seen his leadership/choreographing/teaching skills in i-land, and i think he'd be that level or harsh if push comes to shove
this might cause a bit of friction in the dynamics of the club, but in the end, that's what life is and he sort of has to go through those experiences
alright anyway, school festivals bc this somewhat ties to clubs !!
dance club would def perform and here we can see riki kun in his element crafting choreographies that are easy enough for amateurs to follow, but at the same time with the right type of challenge
most class-run activities are often food stalls so i feel like he'd help out here and there given his height and active demeanor
he'd complain a lot and may slack off by running to the rooftop but that's a-ok because he somehow never gets caught
when he does he just says he's busy with the dance club
i think by the time he becomes a second or third year he'd be quite popular
man plays sports and ngl everyone in the sports teams usually get a lot of fans
also if you're doing sports in general it's such an easy way to socialize and make friends
he'd hate this though because that means he'd have to buy white day chocolates in return to those that gave him a bunch of sweets on valentines
like idk riki's sweet in his own way and giving gifts is not one of them
i have a hunch that his sisters would use him as a taste tester for their own valentine's sweets and he'd hate the holiday even more
he'd definitely invite his friends to dance competitions and i can see him give out a few tickets here and there
he would definitely work a part-time job (if his school allows it) and he'd most likely just work at his parents' studio
eating lunch would either be in the classroom with his friends or at the rooftop
i think he'd just eat at the rooftop to bring his switch and play games
at some point, i can definitely see it getting confiscated
the type of boy to like, get teachers telling him to tuck in his shirt all the time
breaks a bunch of dress codes and i think his biggest offense would be forgetting to dye his streaks/hair back to black whenever school starts
i don't think he'd be a kid that's in many drama, but his friends would, and he'd kinda just be there to listen and sip the tea while watching the chaos unfold
trust me there are a lot of telephone game shenanigans that go on in japanese schools, and if you think anime depictions are brutal then real life is way worse
i almost forgot about school trips !!
i don't think he'd care too much
like, he wouldn't be too excited, but he'd probably be like "hell yeah i'm finally out of this crusty ass building lmaooooo"
he'd make a fuss in the bus with his friends, and the teachers would definitely keep an eye out on him and his friends
like, he'd probably be too loud after losing a game of uno or sth
very active on social media so i feel like he'd do those aesthetic #highschooler #highschoolboy trends and post photos of himself in his uniform during school trips
rikijackson09231209 follow for follow pls
anyway third year would be the worst for him
i think by this point it's a universal thing to have senior year as the most stressful
he'd definitely be struggling to keep up with the workload and exams
he'd try to minimize his role in the soccer club at the expense of putting more hours into dance
depending on how good he is he might get nominated to become captain or vice captain
idk
anyway yeah he'd do... okay in the center exams
his attendance is good enough for him to graduate and i don't think i see him failing his subjects
like, as hard as the japanese curriculum sounds, you have to be an absolute moron to fail and repeat a year
that being said he'd be fine 100%
it's just that his center exam scores prolly won't get him into the top competitive schools
if he were to go to university at the behest of his parents he might try his best to do well so he can get into the kinesiology program
other than that once he graduates it's straight to work never stop the sigma grind
i think that's it?? i omitted a lot because it'd be too much to go through like, every aspect of his high school life
so yeah, tldr: he's a fairly popular and friendly sports boy who loves dancing. sometimes gets in trouble with the teachers but that's okay what's one more uniform infraction gotta do with his future amirite?
or, the perfect sobriety program to heal a quarter-life crisis.
synopsis: "If you're not in your middle ages but are already suffering through the pains of financial security, does that make it a quarter-life crisis?" Jake asked as he looked back on the last three years of his student life. He did have many unforgettable moments and sleepless nights, but the excessive consumption of beer and neon-lit raves came crashing to a halt after everyone around him decided it was time to focus on their respective career paths. Left with an empty to-do list and an uncertain future, he meets you, a person who was on the different side of the same coin.
cast: jake sim x fem!reader, ft. leo (trainee a) bc aussie LMAO
genre: coming of age, angst, opposites attract or sth idk
wc: 40.1k
warnings: RATED 15+; profanity; mentions and implications of food, alcohol, and marijuana consumption; implied sexual activity; slight mentions of death and suicide; slight mentions of weight at one point; very existential; reader has a breakdown and an anxiety attack at some point; without spoiling i will say that there's mild depictions of violence at some point; workplace trauma
a/n: PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE NEUROTIC/GOING THROUGH SOMETHING AT THE MOMENT. this fic is an extremely heavy work so do read with caution and make sure to double (triple!!) check all the warnings before continuing. anyway, a friend and i were thinking about what would've happened to jake if he didn't join enhypen, and we could totally see him in the cs, physics, or engineering program at unsw or umelb. he'd definitely have his own apartment because his parents are minted, and he could have been an eshay. who knows haha. anyway hope you enjoy this story, which is heavily based on "14 steps to a better you" by lime cordiale!
p.s. i know this story is set in australia but pLS excuse my american spelling because i'm too used to writing in american english ;-; (mom instead of mum, color instead of colour, center instead of centre, etc.)
Summer vacation was a brief period of time that anyone who didn't have a full-time job looked forward to. It was a time of sunshine, beaches, and massive amounts of sweat for all the reasons the world could offer. For Jake, it was a delightful time of consuming copious amounts of ice-cold beer in front of bikini-clad women that played beach volleyball with equally muscular macho men. It would have been a tad bit nicer for him to have more time at the gym, but he was swarmed with self-inflicted expectations of maintaining a regular distinction or higher in a prestigious university. To venture into the gym as occasionally as they did meant sacrificing a good portion of time that could have been spent on immersing himself in advanced mathematics and organic chemistry. With the time he spent regularly attending parties, raves, and whatever occasion he could use as an excuse to drink more with friends, he had to sacrifice a jacked, Promethean body at the expense of his academic record. He was already struggling to maintain his current distinction, and if he didn't raise it to a higher distinction by the end of the year, he was sure that he'd lose the only thing that made him stand out from the rest of his cohort. This meant three things to him: no more parties, no more designer shoes, and no more spontaneous road trips to the next music festival.
Although he managed to get by with his current lifestyle, a new set of obstacles threatened his nightly routine. The first instance of disruption was when he was in his third year of university. Instead of having the usual clusters of house parties and pub crawls with his friends, he witnessed some of the wilder ones don smart casual clothing to attend internship interviews. Sure, they still had their share of fun, but each invite to his apartment was turned down with a "next time" or "not now." He understood that some of his friends were scheduled to graduate a year earlier, but that did not stop him from trying to get them to loosen up from their new schedules of collecting career-related experiences to polish their resumes. In hindsight, the only occasion as of late that fulfilled his criteria of fun was the graduation party for his friends outside the science and engineering program. After that, he realized it was now his turn to don the smart casual outfit and send his empty resume to every tech company he could find.
Even if he tried to return to the haze of blurry memories and the rotting stench of vomit across his apartment floor, he knew it was too late. He already turned twenty-two last month, he's graduating next month, and all his friends have either started working full-time or have secured a career path to work towards.
This was his last summer as a full-time student—and then, it's one step into adulthood.
He tried to search for opportunities in his major. After all, there were many places one could go with an engineering degree. He scoured through multiple job listings, written cover letters for major companies worldwide, and contacted professors to write letters of recommendations that he could rely on. For extra measure, he forced himself to have "the talk" with his parents about his future, giving them false reassurance that he had an idea on what to do after he graduates. When asked about the prospect of attending graduate school, he pursed his lips into a thin line and shrugged his shoulders, telling them that he's "thinking about it." Sure, another two to three years of school would mean he had more chances, but the four years of inflated tuition fees and living expenses drowned him in a sea of guilt that could only calm down once he found a way to secure his income.
His apartment—which collected endless noise complaints and eviction threats—was now engulfed in a deathly silence of pensiveness. Desktop monitors that reflected empty word documents and excessive numbers of tabs opened became his main light source for a while. Eventually, two whole weeks of rejected applications and subpar interviews made him resign to an entire summer of playing video games in his room. None of his friends had the free time to go on a nightly escapade of pub crawls with him anymore, and spending the night alone outside took a different level of maturity that he himself didn't achieve yet. Dating apps were out of the question too, since he wasn't really in the mood to hook up with strangers. Sure, a one-night stand would probably instill the initial thrill of young adulthood in him, but what he truly yearned for was to have a cold beer with the boys again while propping foldable chairs by the beach to talk about anything and everything.
He's lost count of how long he's been a homebody, but a rough estimate pointed him towards two weeks and a half. The first week was technically productive, but each second that passed by was marked with application rejections and zero calls back from employers who should be desperate to hire more young people in a stagnant economy. Naturally, anyone would want to escape the pains of reality through channeling anger and frustration into violent online battle royales. His body clock was slowly getting accustomed to living in Pacific time, and the lack of alcohol in his system almost felt like a spiritual detoxification that prophets and priests go through. Even if lying down on his couch while munching on a bag of Smith's was no better than spending all his nights getting too drunk to remember how he ended up half-naked in a tattoo parlor, it was still an accomplishment nonetheless to survive solitude. To think someone like him could come this far without social activity was a spectacle to behold, and even he believed it warranted a self high five or a pat on the back.
Maybe a part of adulthood was finding happiness in the little things—such as spending time on your own. If everyone was too busy to spend time with him, then he should perhaps get used to seeing himself as a companion.
From the large glass windows of his orange-tinted room, he could see the sun dipping itself in the warm waters of the sea. Cars zooming past the highway harmonized with the array of street musicians that occupied every corner of Camperdown Park. Once he opened the doors to his veranda, the wind carried with it a comfortable heat that reminded him of the countless summer vacations he'd spent in a country he's grown to call his home. While the rest of the world was engulfed in the white, icy touches of winter's embrace, the streets of Australia beamed with a vibrant, tropical feel. This would have been a perfect day to have a blaze with his mates and relive the good memories of a distant past, but enjoying the view from his veranda while drinking a cold beer or two had the potential to become his new favorite pastime.
Jogging back indoors, he took three cans of beer from the mini-fridge in his room. A sigh escaped his lips as the cool sensations of the metal alloy touched his palm. He took the can to his neck, pressing it gently towards his nape to relieve himself from the humidity of the open air. It took time for his body to process the sudden drop in temperature from the beer can, but time was something he had in abundance. For now, the woes of finding employment and building his resume evaporated with the air that left his lungs. All that mattered right now, when time seemed to stop in an eternal summer of marmalade-tinted sunsets, was the taste of beer that overwhelmed the corners of his mouth after two whole weeks of sobriety.
He closed his eyes, further immersing himself in the ambiance of white noise produced by his surroundings. Screeching car wheels, electric guitars, dogs barking and howling at each other, teenagers screaming profanities as they zoomed past the streets on their skateboards—all of the sound Australia had to offer was ringing in his ears, reverberating with a strong beat. He leaned in closer, opening another can of beer. Its refreshing fizz permeated in empty air, slicing through the bustling din of the city. His lips hovered over the cold surface of the can, taking in the fleeting, malty aroma that filled his nostrils. It was a classic, familiar flavor that swished and tingled his tongue, flashing quick images of a transient yet unforgettable youth in his head.
There was a beep that disrupted his moment of tranquility, and he furrowed his brows at the sight of the notification on his phone. Another email politely rejected his application, with the same automated response of wishing him luck for his future ventures. The time on his phone read 17:49, but the strength of the sun's rays seemed to disrupt his perception of time. Although notes of violet began appearing among the streaks of white clouds in the sky, the sun was still brimming with a blinding radiance.
"Jake, right?" The mention of his name sent shivers down his spine, and he snapped his head toward the direction of the voice. Keeping his grip on the now lukewarm beer can in his hands, his eyes met a figure he was sure he'd met before, but the alcohol had blocked fragments of his blurred memories from uncovering your identity. He was sure he'd met you somewhere, and your silhouette certainly evoked a sense of familiarity in him. Was it at a bar? Or a club? Perhaps a house party? Maybe a concert or a music festival? No matter how much he tried to plunge into the depths of his memories, he could not find a single name or a place. Nonetheless, he was confident that he'd met you before.
"Of course, you wouldn't remember me." You uttered under your breath, laughing bitterly at the puzzled expression etched on your neighbor's face. Jake returned the sentiment with an awkward chuckle, raising the can of beer to his lips once more as he emptied its contents. He crushed the can in his hands and tossed it behind him, automatically reaching for another beverage.
"Sorry mate—but I swear on my dog's life that I've seen you somewhere before. Promise." He said, dragging his chair closer to the edge of his veranda. You did the same, standing up from your seat to lean on the railings of your balcony. He raised his can of beer to you, taking a huge sip with a deep sigh. Your sips were lighter and more consistent to ensure that you didn't house too much gas in your stomach.
"So, who are you again?" He asked, balling his hand in a fist as he held a burp down his throat. He tapped his chest with his palm in rhythmic pats, easing the buildup of carbonated wheat that bubbled in his stomach. When he tried to look deep into your features, a delayed outline would follow, creating shadows out of nowhere with the brightness of the setting sun. Was he always this weak with alcohol? Or was it just the two-week period of sobriety that did a number on him? Whatever it was undoubtedly made your afterimage linger with every subtle move you made. When a gust of wind blew in your direction, your hair would float in the air, each strand seemingly having a conscious life of its own. The dull luster on your head almost looked like a halo from where he was, which didn't help him remember who you are at all. If you were someone he'd met at a party, he would have had your contact information and social media by now, and he would have at least recalled your name or which faculty you were in. He was sure he'd seen your face somewhere, but to pinpoint the where unexpectedly took too much brainpower to process.
You twirled the can of beer from side to side, swishing the viscous liquid within and feeling its weight shift between each movement. Each time the weight of the can fell to your right, Jake would furrow his brows deeply, pinching his nose as hard as he could. The gesture didn't help him jog his memory, and it only made him look ridiculously focused on something that should have been a light joke. When the can's weight fell to your left, he would heave a deep sigh, as if he was slowly giving up at trying to remember where he met you. At some point, he chugged through his last can of beer, and you tried to toss him a can from your cooler. He was able to catch it mid-air with quick reflexes, but upon seeing the brand, he gave you an awkward smile—one that immediately told you his entire personality through the beer he drinks. To be fair, you were being too harsh on him. It's not as if he played an essential part of your life, and your encounters with him only consisted of quick nods of acknowledgment when you saw him leave the door. Letting your share of momentary fun reach its abrupt halt, you tossed him another can of beer—this time, it was the same brand as the one he just finished. Muttering a word of thanks under his breath, he hastily reached for the pull tab and opened it with a pop that sliced through the distant magpie's cries.
"Depends on how you put it. I've been your neighbor for about two years now, and I've been collecting your bills because the guys at the gas company keep fucking up our room numbers." You said, leaning further towards his veranda. The metal railings pressed into your skin, leaving a geometrical pattern of rectangles across your arm and legs. He took a step back, leaving his mouth agape at the mention of the word "neighbor." Now that you've mentioned it, he did remember seeing you in the building from time to time. Still, he was either too drunk to stand or too tired from studying in the library, so a lot of the "hellos" and "goodbyes" that you two have probably exchanged flew out of his head from fatigue.
Then, it hit him.
You were the person that moved in two summers ago, when he came home from the Rainbow Serpent Festival. There were two large suitcases next to you as you twisted and turned the keys to your new home, and he offered to teach you how to unlock your door. What happened after that remained a big blur in his head, but if he didn't see you on the corridors of the apartment hall or anywhere else in the city, that meant that you were a busybody who quickly adjusted to life in New South Wales. Judging from the way you looked, he could guess that you were the type of person who would probably avoid him in university. Even if your hair was tousled with the breeze at the moment, you kept it in a neat ponytail that highlighted your face shape. Your outfit looked straight out of an office comedy, save for the cozy shorts you wore instead of a pencil skirt or slacks. It was a rather odd combination, but it added to the type of person you might be in his eyes. A dedicated worker by day who knew how to unwind on your own after long hours in the cubicle—which, now that he thought about it, added another element of surprise to the enigma of his next-door neighbor. You didn't look much older than him, yet you had the air of an adult that was too far out of his reach. The way you slowly take sips of your beer, even if the urge to chug it all in one go was one of the few examples of mature restraint that he began to admire as he spent each second drinking with you.
Maybe, just maybe, you were the key to his current slump. If destiny or fate or whatever spiritual bullshit were to align the stars in his favor, then the rejected applications might be a sign that pointed towards you. Sure, he knew nothing about you, but you looked like a full-fledged adult with enough experience in the "real world"—someone who can help him polish his resume, practice interviews with, and maybe gain tips from. Indeed, you didn't mind him asking about the inner workings of the job market and what your employer looked for when he hired you, right?
He considered asking you if either he could come into your house or vice versa, but he realized that his living room was a total mess. The coffee table had pieces of potato chips all over its surface, and empty boxes of takeout were scattered across his carpet. Ideally, the latter was the best option, since he assumed you regularly cleaned your living quarters. Then again, there was no point in asking if he could barge into your apartment if the two of you were already engaged in a conversation. Plus, it was a rational guarantee that it would be better to continue your talks without the gaping, empty border of two balconies.
In one quick gulp, he consumed the can of beer in his hands and crushed it between the metal railings of his veranda. Instead of throwing him another drink, he raised his palm in the air and rushed back inside his apartment, leaving you puzzled with his impulses. He seemed to be the type to act without thinking, but there was an air of philosophical intrigue surrounding him. From what you could guess with your first formal encounter with him, he would move depending on his mood while thinking about everything at once, mind calculating with all the outcomes and possibilities in rapid succession. He was the type of guy who would talk on tangents because there was simply too much going on in his head.
"He definitely reminds me of someone." You muttered under your breath, then took another long sip of your lukewarm drink. Beer sure tasted better when it was ice cold, and you rushed back to your apartment to pour the rest of the contents in a glass with some ice. A German would indeed rebuke you for your actions, but what can you say? You needed the drink to keep its chilled state, or else you'd throw it into the sink and waste it away.
Before you could close the glass doors to your balcony, the doorbell rang three or four times. You didn't need to check the peephole to know who it was, and yet Jake's presence in front of your door surprised you nonetheless.
"Come in," You greeted with a smile. Jake kicked his sandals off and gave your living room a quick scan. A small smile stretched his lips at the correct guess of his intuition. Despite your rooms having the same architecture, the sheer difference in furniture and cleanliness paled compared to his room. You had a few plants as decor in the entrance and beside your flat screen television, while he kept his space as sparse as one could. The scent of lavender hit his nose the moment he breathed in, and he traced its aroma to a burning candle perched in the middle of your glass coffee table. He saw a Nintendo Switch idly sitting beside the array of cushions on your couch, prompting him to take a mental note of asking for your ID sometime later.
Jake held a small cooler in his arms, and after he took in your humble living space, he immediately darted towards your balcony door. Once he propped up his cooler beside yours, he took a wayward folding chair and slumped right into it. After a few seconds, he immediately fixed his posture and gave you a slight bow, muttering strings of incoherent apologies about his youthful impoliteness. Using your laughter as a message of forgiveness, you hovered your glass towards your uninvited guest, clinking it to a new chapter of acquaintanceship.
"You look awfully comfortable in a house that you've been in for the first time." You joked, raising your glass towards your lips.
People like Jake, who exuded an air of comfort, were the type of people who knocked all the walls you've built to guard yourself. An aura of benign intentions spread to whoever they talked to, and no sign of malice was present in their actions and words. It was a very contagious ray of positivity that you desperately needed, and that was probably why you didn't hesitate to let him—a complete stranger before your coincidental meeting at your respective balconies—into your house.
"By the way, I've also been keeping your noise complaint letters because somehow maintenance keeps sending them to my room instead of yours." You said, breaking the small moment of silence between you two. Pointing your index finger to the stack of letters on your kitchen counter, he excused himself to jog into your apartment. From his distance, you could see him scattering the neatly stacked pieces of noise complaints around the entire counter, with some of them flying around your kitchen. He waved the most recent one in your direction, suppressing a deep chuckle that burst in echoes bouncing back and forth between the standard white walls. You returned the sentiment with a bout of laughter of your own, taking another sip of icy beer as you watched him snort at each noise complaint. When he returned to your balcony, a tinge of pink on his cheeks intermingled with the orange tint of sunlight that dyed his skin, giving him the urge to cover his face with his can of beer.
"Sorry about that, I really am." He uttered, clearing his throat to dispel the carbon that continued to tickle his stomach. By now, he was pretty sure he'd have a bad case of acid reflux tomorrow.
"Nah, it's fine. Destiny or whatever seems to work in my favor since I'm usually out whenever you host parties in your apartment." You waved off, pointing your chin at the noise complaint that was still on his hand. The humidity of the summer weather caved the paper into itself, and Jake pressed its corners on his lap, straightening it with his palms. He began folding it into a paper airplane, delicately folding each wing with skilled hands. You watched as he attentively admired his craft, letting go of the paper as soon as another breeze hit the balcony. The paper airplane's destination was a mystery, and all you could do was watch it soar down the busy streets you've watched since you moved to the city.
"Speaking of parties, I've been meaning to ask, but it's been quite quiet recently." You questioned. His eyes glowed momentarily, brown pupils dilating with the brightness of the sun. It should already be past six, yet the skies were still vivid with harmonious blends of warm tones. Violet streaks were more prominent now, but it was not enough to call it a night.
"Yeah, everyone's just busy with their own stuff, you know? I guess it's that time where everyone grows up to fix themselves and get a job or something." Jake answered, keeping the speed of his speech as slow as he could. This was a chance for him to steer the conversation in his favor, and he wanted to keep his excitement as low as possible. Eagerness was a trait that many employers looked for, but eagerness in excess was desperation—a characteristic that led to the downfall of his internship applications.
"Jobs, huh." Your voice was a faint whisper now, and if Jake didn't lean forward, the breeze would have carried it away from his ears. Your eyes were now watching the melting ice cubes that diluted the jaundice hues of your drink, watching its once clear, symmetrical shape loose structure in the murky pool of fermented yeast.
"Jobs." He repeated, sharing the same dejected sentiment in your voice. Heaving a long, deep sigh, he diverted his eyes to the endless afternoon sky, watching a couple of magpies fly from one direction to another. He didn't know magpies could fly that high up, considering the fact that he's seen most of them perched atop benches in Camperdown Park.
"They suck." There was a poisonous undertone in the way you spoke now, causing Jake to flinch a little. There was no lie in the sentence, and he found himself nodding in agreement. Jobs do suck, but what sucked even more was not having a job to complain about in the first place. "Money can't buy happiness" was an absurd statement, because happiness needed time, which was measured in money. To have time, one must have enough money to buy that time, and to get money meant sacrificing the present to a future that always seemed to go further and further away from his grasp.
"I know, and I've never even been employed before," Jake said. This shouldn't come as a surprise to you, considering the noise complaints he's managed to pile up. Nonetheless, your mouth still went agape in bewilderment at the thought of someone his age with absolutely zero job experience of any kind.
"Not even a part-time job?" You asked, jogging your memories back to the countless jobs you took on the side during high school and in your first year of university. How you managed to maintain a high academic standing despite carrying two part-time jobs still baffled you, but you suppose that was the reason your friend circle was small enough to count with your ten fingers. This could also be another reason you steered clear from social media, only downloading WhatsApp to communicate with project group mates and work colleagues.
"Well, I don't know if tutoring counts. I was also a research assistant for a bit, but I wasn't paid, so I wouldn't really consider it a job." Jake explained. To be fair, tutoring his niece with a small allowance shouldn't be considered a job, and his time as an undergrad research assistant had been an unpaid volunteering activity. Either way, any opportunity in his sparse resume was automatically considered a job to him.
"Research assistant for…?" You didn't want to show your disdain towards him, but your tone made it evident that you didn't believe him. Sure, one should not rely on assumptions to create a mental character of a person, but when all she knew about him was his excessive obsession with nightlife and raves, the only thing you could think of was "how?" How did someone like him, who certainly didn't look like the type to do well in school, secure a research position in his undergrad years?
"My mechanical engineering prof. He was doing some research on hydrodynamics, and an assistant's position was open, so I went for it." Jake replied, showing the screenshot of an email he had with his professor as proof. He knew you didn't mean any harm, but this was one of the few opportunities he had to brag about his lack of accomplishments. In a sense, you were right—becoming a research assistant during undergrad was a rare opportunity, let alone in his second year of study. To top it all off, it was his professor that decided to reach out to him, making him the chosen few who the professor himself handpicked.
"Why didn't you continue? That sounds like a solid position to me." You asked, taking his phone to zoom in on the email.
It was an odd way to find out that he attended the University of New South Wales, or UNSW for short—which struck a painful chord in your chest. Sure, you were an alumnus at an institution with a higher overall ranking than his, but UNSW was a better business school than where you graduated. To add salt to your wounds, UNSW Business was one of the only schools that rejected your application. At the same time, every other university you applied to accepted you into their commerce program. The worst blow to your ego was the realization that Jake entered the number one school for his major in all of Australia. UNSW consistently ranked first in the faculty of engineering and gained worldwide recognition for housing some of the most employable graduates that the country could offer. From this perspective alone, your academic achievements failed to compete with the prestige of his alma mater and program.
"I got bored, and the prof was really difficult to work with." He replied nonchalantly. You nodded your head to every word he said, diverting your gaze to the corner of his lips. There was a smirk plastered on his face, exuding an air of pomp and circumstance. Of course, you took his pridefulness as a joke, scoffing at him in the process. However, what changed within you was a newfound respect for an otherwise unrespectable guy. Despite being beneficial to his career, leaving an apprenticeship out of honesty was a commendable trait that highlighted your own cowardice in the workplace.
Noticing the shift in your exception, Jake puffed his chest out with pride. Just like everything good in his life, however, the short period of egotistic bliss evaporated into a shell of self-doubt and shame. He was aware of his school's reputation and his major, but it was for this same reason that he couldn't call himself a student of the university with dignity. He should be getting opportunities left and right based on the prestige of his alma matter; he should be able to secure a job, let alone an internship because he's attending one of the best schools in Australia; he should have no trouble networking or finding a company to commit to because many employers were supposed to want students in a top school. He technically had one more year of university to go before he graduated. Still, most of the students in his program already had a solid idea of what to do after graduating. For those without a fiery passion for engineering, they simply took the route of gaining as much experience as possible to become an attractive candidate for major tech companies around the world—which was what he tried to do. Still, the perseverance of getting up after each rejection simply didn't exist in him.
Failures and rejection were two things he never had the pleasure of experiencing. He was lucky enough to have everything handed down to him on top of a silver platter—whether it be genetics, talents, or sociability. This should have given him a general upper hand in everything, but the cold truth was that he never had the push to try hard enough because everything always worked out for him. It didn't help either that his brother bore the first-born's responsibilities, often receiving a stricter regimen than himself. While his brother learned to gain independence and persist through each obstacle that life had to offer, Jake was pampered with support and parental protection. He was never compared to his brother at the dinner table, but he reckoned that a slight competitive streak would have given him a reason to work harder and envision a clear, vivid image of his goals and aspirations.
"How about you?" Jake asked, shaking off the swirling thoughts that spiraled down his head. The past is the past, and nothing would have stopped who he was back then to quit the apprenticeship for more free time.
"I got fired." You bluntly blurted, averting your gaze from your drinking companion of the afternoon.
"Wait, what?"
"Yeah, I got fired." You repeated through gritted teeth.
There was not a single second between his bafflement and your simmering anger. The open air felt suffocating, choking him out and leaving him breathless. The humidity and heat of the Australian summer came in full swing, batting his lungs and throat with the forces of nature. Indeed, there was something he could do to alleviate the tension in the air, right? Say a comforting sentence or two? Maybe give you an awkward hug? Or pass you another beer to make you drink your woes away? The last one was his least preferred option, but it seemed to be the most realistic. In your current state, words lost all meaning. Physical touch was out of the question too, since you were probably a woman who kept your guard higher in times of anger, self-doubt, and disappointment.
You gave a few minutes of lethal silence between you two, eyes glued to the empty glass in your hands. There was no weight to swirl between your palms anymore, which gave the glass a certain lightness. You tightened your grip around its surface, controlling the urge to throw it out of your balcony. Venting your anger out through violence and reckless behavior didn't serve a single purpose to your problem since throwing all your glasses and ceramics off your balcony did nothing to get your job back. So, for now, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, feeling through blank space to find your cooler's lid.
"For what, if I may ask?"
Jake's fragile, gentle voice was like an anchor that sunk you back down on the cold tiles of your balcony. The heavy weight that bogged your shoulders down slowly lifted itself away from you, prompting you to melt between the fabrics of your foldable chair. You craned your head towards him, feeling the heaviness of your skull hit the bones of your left shoulder. He took a can of beer from his cooler to press it on your neck, dragging his chair closer to yours. Closing your eyes once more, you felt the shape of his knuckles and gave it a small pat.
"I wouldn't be here, hopelessly drowning myself in shitty, cheap ass beer if I knew."
Your breath tickled Jake's hand, reanimating the cool sensations of the beer can. He softly pushed the can to the nape of your neck, carefully watching the twitches on your face to take note of your current comfort levels. Once a sigh of relief escaped your lips, he took the can up to your jaw, allowing you to rest your head on the back of his hand. Right now, you were just the right amount of drunk to rely on the touch of someone you've just met for comfort. It was not enough to throw yourself in his arms, and you were confident that it'd take much more for you to sleep with him—but in a sense, this amount of inebriety was just enough.
"That makes two of us, then." He muttered, letting his head rest on the crown of your head.
You tilted your head at an angle where you could see his eyes, watching it sparkle under the sunlight. Even if the two of you knew absolutely nothing about each other, there was a familiarity that felt akin to an old friend from a distant past. The night was slowly seeping through the marmalade skies in a blend of violet, washing away any remnants of the day. What should have been an hour felt like an eternity, evoking both shared a sense of liminality. Each breath one took was the exhalation of another—a bone-chilling, cellular connection that rattled the innermost parts of both your bones. A balcony you had to yourself felt like a space for the two of you, a waiting room for the impending dread of reality. You, a woman with too many dreams, and he, a man who couldn't dream at all.
"I mean, now that I think about it, I'm sure you sort of understand why you can't get a job or an internship, right?" You asked, breaking the silence that rendered both of you as equals in the presence of a looming future. Jake tilted his head to meet your glittery pupils that were simultaneously dull and lifeless. Removing the can of beer that was glued to your neck, he tugged at the pull tab and took your hands in his, curling each of your fingers to hold the can. You nodded your head, taking a small sip. The beverage's bitterness was accentuated when it wasn't cold enough to drink, and you scrunched your nose in mild disgust at the bubbly, malty flavors that burst into your tongue. You passed the can onto Jake, who took a quick swig of the drink.
"I don't wanna admit it, but I can see why." He said, slurring his words with a certain bitterness. His head felt heavier, and you gently took his temples in your palms. In one swoop, you managed to switch positions without alerting him in his semi-drunken state. Now, your head was resting on top of his messy mop of black hair, and he nuzzled his face deeper into your neck.
"Experience?" You asked, taking the can off his grasp. In exchange, you covertly slipped a chilled bottle of water in his palms, watching him flimsily twist the cap off only to pour the contents all over the two of you. You bit your lip in restraint, doing your best to hold your laughter. Feeling his feverish warmth through the top of your head, your best guess was that he was the "late bloomer" type of drunk. He can consume copious amounts of alcohol and retain his consciousness, but at some point, all the effects would come crashing down in an instant to render him in a state of unreasonable happiness.
"What still baffles me to this day is how many employers want "experience," but even the experience itself requires more experience that I can't get because getting a degree and studying hard just isn't enough anymore," Jake replied, putting the entire weight of his head on your shoulder. Raising his arms up high, he exaggerated a set of air quotes before dragging them back down on his lap.
"Well, at least you had your share of fun while it lasted, right?"
"I guess I did? That's if I can have a family of my own to share these stupid moments with, though."
"Not a fan of marriage?" You asked. Jake took his head off your shoulder and lowered his head to match your eye's position. One thing about him that didn't change regardless of his sobriety was his attentiveness, which was displayed through subtle movements.
Jake widened his eyes at the word marriage. He didn't say anything for a while, leaving his mouth agape only to shut it back. A short hum escaped his lips as he brought his knees up to his chin. Although the chair was too small to contain his legs, he did his best to make sure that his knees wouldn't hit your arm.
"I've thought about it, but I can't really see myself with a wife and kids right now. I mean, I've failed all my internship interviews, and my resume is too blank right now. The only thing I have in terms of personal branding is my grades, which anyone can achieve if they study hard enough or whatever." Jake murmured. His voice was slightly muffled, and you leaned closer to hear him better.
"How can I provide for a family when I don't think I can even provide for myself?"
A long, arduous silence fell with a thud. Night came with the dark glow of the moon, sinking the sun into the depths of the faraway seas. You averted your eyes from him, feeling for your cooler yet again. Without hesitation, you opened a can of beer and quickly emptied its contents, feeling the faint dizziness that always occurred when you would drink too rashly. Jake looked at you with concern while holding back any fiber of movement that might escape his fingertips. He knew the feeling all too well, and if he were in the same position, he wouldn't want someone to stop him mid-way. He kept his lips in a thin line, watching as you longingly gazed at the night sky. The empty can in your hands rolled past the metal railings of your balcony, plunging straight into the streets below.
"Jake," You said. The way his name rolled of your tongue had a piercing quality to it—almost as if his body jolted with an animatic shock that rushed in his veins.
"Yeah?"
"Let me tell you something," You continued, facing him while clamping your mouth shut, peering deep into his eyes. For Jake, it was almost invasive—as if you were looking inside his entire anatomy.
"I graduated with First Class Honors in my batch last year." You started after a long pause. Jake could tell that your head was rustling with many rampant thoughts, and he kept his silence.
"I'm not trying to brag, but I also have enough so-called "experience" in my resume. I have completed several certifications that should have aided me in my job interviews. I've completed enough internships in my summer vacations to qualify me for a job in my desired career path. I was an intern for CommBank, Westpac, and ANZ, to name a few, and I've even joined executive positions at my university's investment banking clubs as another qualification to write about. Many of my professors have written me referrals to top finance companies in the country, which should have boosted my chances of securing a lifelong path of financial security. I've devoted three fucking years to my education, my future plans, and my dreams, and yet I was fired today because I was "not the best fit" for my role."
You were now staring at your bare feet, which were spread across the cold, marble tiles of your balcony. Jake said nothing, but you could feel his eyes lingering on your hunched figure. Your voice was drained of all energy and feeling, and all you wanted to do right now was to go to sleep. For how long was a question you didn't bother answering; the only thing your body felt was the fatigue that came with living as a struggling young adult in a happening, big city.
"Wow…" Jake whispered. It was a voice so low and quiet that if you hadn't listened carefully, it would have been blown away by the breeze.
"Wow, right?" You repeated with the same volume and tone. You took your knees to your chest and mimicked Jake's curled position, tilting your head to an angle where you could see his face bathed in the moonlight. The remnants of the day have disappeared with the sun sinking deep inside the seas across the city. Now, it was officially night, and the city lights shone like a string of stars in the North.
"What a monologue," Jake said, forcing himself to speak. Fate worked in beautiful ways, and instead of finding an answer, he found empathy. He didn't know whether to smile, cry, lament and scream at you for not having a solution to his woes, or to throw his beer can to the depths of the night. As he'd expected, you should have been the model example to follow—and yet, after all your incredible accomplishments, you were on the same boat as him.
Sailing, drifting, and floating without a destination in mind. There wasn't even an anchor to hoist down in this boat the two of you were in, nor was there a port to dock. You, a veteran captain holding accolades with navigation, and him, a shoemaker who had never even sailed on a ship before.
"I should have applied for a major in theater or something. Then I could have probably secured a lifetime of performing with a company." You smiled, staring into space. You stood up, head spinning in a daze at the sudden movement. The moonlight was dancing in circles as you concentrated your sight into its bright, white glow, and you eventually let your hand depend on the cold touches of your balcony's metal railings to stay still.
"Do you actually like theater?" Jake asked, following suit. He passed a bottle of water to you, and you allowed the transparent liquid to cure you of your vertigo. At this rate, you didn't know if the culprit was excessive amounts of alcohol or the event that made you drink in the first place.
"Never been interested, but man, I'm fucking desperate." You laughed. You took your elbows to the railings, allowing your chin to rest on your forearms.
"Mood," Jake replied in a whisper. You turned around to lean your back on the railings, switching your view from the endless spots of white city lights to the mundane, empty neatness of your apartment's living room.
"Might become a stripper type of mood?" You asked, shuddering at the thought of him in a strip show.
"More like might open an Onlyfans kinda mood."
"If only you were hotter, right?"
"Hey! I bet my body count is way higher than yours!" Jake exclaimed, widening his eyes.
"It probably is, and that's most likely why you couldn't have the time or energy to actually look for internships that might help you with your future." Your chin was now resting on your shoulder, stifling a burst of laughter that tickled your lungs.
"Ouch, you're one to talk."
"Double ouch, mate." You said, nudging his arm with your elbow.
Jake turned away from the horizon of the city, leaning his body on the metal railings of your balcony. Your living room was completely submerged in a lonely, comforting darkness that called for your return to its quarters. You closed your eyes and felt a warm wind roaring up in the summer night. The wind was a little stronger than the breeze in the afternoon, and the two of you could hear the tree branches rattling with the telephone poles on each street. Jake's shoulder brushed past yours, acting as your only source of warmth in the sudden drop in temperature. You were supposed to feel cold, and you could physically feel the hairs on your skin shiver, yet you found the cold comforting. You didn't mind staying like this for a little longer, mindlessly staring into the dark abyss of your apartment with your new companion.
"Anyway, what now?" Jake asked without raising his head.
What now? Let's get out of here and never look back! Fly to Ireland or whatever, since I'm sure I have enough money for two tickets, was what you wanted to say, but all that left your lips was a sigh. It would've been romantic to fly and relive your life with a stranger you've just met—in fact, it was an idealistic scenario that felt like a movie. If this ever were a film, you weren't sure about Jake as the male lead, but some parts of him taking the role made sense. He fit the cliche of an extroverted youth who surprisingly thought a lot about his life, and he had pretty features to qualify as an actor.
You raised your head from the view of your apartment, staring deep into Jake's figure. Even if the two of you were supposed to be opposites, there was a truth hidden beneath his lids that only someone like you could understand.
Jake was terribly tired of the world—and so were you.
"I don't know? Try again?" You said, breaking the comforting silence between you two. Jake snorted at a seemingly rational response, as if to tell you that the idea of trying again was ridiculous.
"If only I could get the motivation, mate."
Something in his sentence hit you like a truck. Trying again and again without a sense of direction was akin to a headless chicken running around. In a world where everything seemed planned to the dot, positivity and blind faith almost sounded like a lukewarm joke—but motivation was a different phenomenon on its own. One thing that was clear from your coincidental encounter with Jake was how your thought process worked. Jake didn't need to look at you to understand that you were still hung up on finding a specific reason for being fired out of the blue, and you were aware of Jake's pensiveness when it came to where he went wrong in his internship applications. It was painful to admit, but humans have only come this far due to a strong perseverance to move forward. It took countless falls for humans to walk as they do today, and the intense desire to walk was what pushed for the act to become a primary function of the human body. Instead of pondering at your failures, the two of you needed a reason to get up and try again.
"I have a plan." You said, eyes widening at the sudden moment of eureka. Jake looked at you, puzzled at the sudden fiery passion exuding from your figure. At this rate, he didn't need you to turn the lights to your living room on—your aura was bright enough to set the entire building on fire.
"If it's coming from a bigshot like you, then it better be worth it."
"What do you mean bigshot? You're talking to the BCom smartass who can't even get a job in the finance sector. Meanwhile, you're in STEM. You have plenty of opportunities to find employment!" You sarcastically scoffed, beckoning for him to follow you inside your apartment. He took his cooler in one swoop and tried to catch up with you, who had already reached the light switches by your foyer.
"Well, I guess I'd be the first to break the STEM myth of financial security, because I can't even get a single internship."
The moment you turned the fluorescent lights on, Jake took a good look at his unexpected friend—or acquaintance? A neighbor who he wants to drink with more often? He didn't know what to call you just yet, and who knows? Maybe he'd never have the chance to call you various labels. There was a transparent, fleeting quality about a meeting that was too good to be true—almost as if seeing you at the balcony next to his was just a dream he'd one day wake up from. Even under the artificial, bright lights of your apartment, you had an ephemeral, fragile glow around you—one that mimicked a saint coming down from heaven to pass judgment on earth.
"Let's go on a race, Jake." You said so naturally and smoothly. The clarity of your pupils made his heart thump, striking a right note within him. It wasn't too demanding or forceful—it was just the right amount of inviting that swelled his heart with the intensity of emotions as a young adult.
"A race?"
"Like, who can get a job first or who can secure an internship first. The details don't matter, but healthy competition is sure to keep us back on track, right?" You explained. Taking a few steps back, you shut the glass doors to your balcony, hearing a loud thud that echoed across the vast walls of your living room. Checking to see if the lock was working, you then pulled the curtains in one, quick motion, covering the romantic, high-rise view.
"I don't really work well under pressure, mate."
"So do I, but one thing university has taught me is that deadlines give me the push I need to go through with something. If this race can serve as that push to get us back on track, then we're bound to find success one way or another."
You spoke haltingly, but each word you uttered became more incredible than the last. Initially, he was skeptical of your sudden proposal. If both of you were failures in the eyes of society, what's to say that another try would land you in the same spot you're currently in right now? Then again, the reason Jake had managed to maintain his high academic standing was owing to the threat of expulsion. If he didn't study, he would fail and get kicked out of school—it was as simple as that. In a sense, him being good at studying was always a result of a looming consequence that he didn't want to go through. If he were terrible at school, then he would get expelled—ergo, he would lose all his chances. By having something like a race to kickstart his productivity, he could see himself trying a little bit harder than usual.
"So, if the end goal isn't a job, then what is it?"
"There is no clear end goal, but it's kind of like a situation where we constantly one-up each other." You paused, leaning your body on the kitchen counter. "Say, if you successfully become an intern, then I have to one-up that by securing a job. Then, you have to secure yourself a job, and then I'd have to work hard for a promotion. Kind of like that."
"What's the point if there's no winner in this "race"?" Jake asked. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, fidgeting with his smartphone.
"I haven't thought that far yet, but the winner to me is someone who's reached a level of peak adulting, if you catch my drift. Like, You don't have to have a family, but you should be financially secure enough to call for early retirement, or have enough money to buy your own property."
Jake had been standing in the space between your sofa and the kitchen, keeping his hands glued to his pockets. His eyes were focused on nothing in particular, but at the same time, they were staring right into yours—as if he were searching for a treasured item he'd lost long, long ago. You moved from the kitchen counter to brush past his shoulder, inviting him to sit next to you on the sofa. He took his cooler with him and tapped on its lid, as if to ask if you wanted another beer. You shook your head and fished for the remote—which was hiding under the massive pile of cushions that occupied your large sofa. He took one of them and gave it a tight hug, burying his head on its soft surface.
"Yikes…. That's gonna be one long ride with you then, huh?" He muttered through the pillow on his face. You took a smaller cushion and threw it in his direction, marveling at his over-reaction. He returned the pillow and yelled "balls out," prompting you to catch it before it fell out of your reach.
"It all depends on our motivation, I suppose. I mean, who knows? You could join a huge tech company and gain enough more than what I'd make in five years." You said, using the pillow he passed to you as a headrest. Heaving a sigh, you raised your head to the white ceiling, painting an image of Jake as a successful engineer. It was a possible outcome—one that you should be happy for if he ever reaches that level of success. However, there was a throbbing pain in your chest that increased with each lapsing image of Jake's foreseen success. Unlike you, he had more options to explore; he just didn't search far and wide enough, only limiting himself to whatever he studied in university. Contrary to being in finance and accounting, engineering had a diverse and readily available job market. In theory, it was never too late for Jake to find something to do to earn money.
To think that some fields have a higher demand than others was unfair to you, but there was nothing you could do. Engineers were more valuable than investment bankers or hedge fund managers. To top it all off, their line of work was more honest than yours will ever be. Maybe you should have been better at the right kind of math, or perhaps you should have gained more interest in the physics classes you slept through during high school.
In the end, however, there was nothing you could do to change the outcome of your current life. Even if you had the option to restart at a certain checkpoint in your life, everything would always be the same. It didn't matter if you ended up taking the path of law, architecture, medicine, or computer science—unlike Jake, you were never meant to succeed no matter how hard you tried.
You bit your lips, feeling a drop of sweat trickle down your temple to your jaw. Jake held your remote, rapidly skimming through each channel until he found a rerun of a football match.
"Watch me gain a net worth higher than Elon Musk's tomorrow." He said absentmindedly, eyes focused on each player's movements. You could tell he was trying his best to hold back, poorly managing his attention between the large flatscreen and your conversation.
"In your dreams, fucko." You replied without any malice. He took another cushion from your sofa and attempted to kick it in your direction. You picked the pillow up from the floor and served it like a volleyball, watching as it landed right on his cheek.
"Wow, we're not that close, you finance shill." He said. You expected him to follow with a "just kidding" or "gotcha," but he simply kept his eyes on the game, biting the tip of his thumb as each second passed by. There was no reason for you to feel hurt—after all, the two of you had just met today. You weren't a figure to remember in the routine-like hallway "hellos" and "goodbyes," and from this point, all you were to him was a noise complaint collector and a neighbor he had no clue existed.
"I'm in, though, if that's what you're wondering right now," Jake said as if he read your mind. The corners of his face lit up with a smile, and he took the remote to turn the game off. You returned his smile tenfold, feeling your cheeks rise up to fold your eyelids into crescent moons.
A sudden buzz disrupted the short period of camaraderie you shared with Jake, and a wave of pure shock overwhelmed your face. Before you knew it, time had significantly passed and changed the date etched on your phone. You showed your phone to Jake, prompting the same expression to appear on his face. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry with joy; you've forgotten how good it felt to have a companion you could talk to for hours on end. Sure, you did have your small circle of friends to talk to, but most of them were already too busy with their own lives that you were always left with your own accord. It was moments like these where you grow to realize the need for human interaction and empathetical connections—in a sense, nobody can survive alone, regardless of how much they've convinced themselves that they could.
"See you tomorrow? Or later, I guess?" Jake said as soon as he reached your foyer. He wanted to tell you he was extremely grateful for your existence, and that he wished he could stay longer, but nothing came out of his mouth save for a small smile. The same bittersweetness was returned in your gaze, and he took note of your expressive nature. Perhaps one day in the future, he can openly make fun of you for not being as aloof as you thought you were.
"Nah, only see me when you have news about your internship." You replied, slowly pushing him out of your door. You tucked his cooler between your arms, closing the door to your apartment shut.
"Ouch. You could at least have me over for dinner or something." He said nonchalantly. "We're neighbors, after all."
In the silent, dimly-lit hallway of your floor, you plopped his cooler down to kick it in his direction. You held the feeling in your heart; the urge to convince him to stay dying out for the simple reason that you had absolutely nothing in your fridge or your pantry. Plus, there was all the time in the world. It would be easier to talk to Jake from now on, and there were many mornings, afternoons, or nights that the two of you could use to share another beer while eating a home-cooked meal.
"Jake, I just got fired, remember? I don't think I have the money for takeout or groceries." You said, leaning your back on the door frame. Jake lifted his nose in annoyance, as if he forgot that the two of you were in a slump.
"I would say I could treat you, but I have nothing left in my allowance right now. Gotta wait 'til the end of the month until I have money again."
"Imagine having an allowance." You said while rolling your eyes.
The hallway's silence engulfed the two of you in a dreamlike state. A shared, peaceful moment where breathing was enough. Never in your life had you thought this measly, somewhat worn-down apartment hallway would become a place you'd want to be in forever. For you and Jake, the hallway symbolized a terminal in and out of society—for him, it was the space between the sanctuary of his apartment and the cold reality of university. For you, it was akin to a train station you'd pass to connect one remotely different world to another. Right now, however, when both of you had nowhere to go and nothing to do, it was the perfect purgatory to kill time and forget about adulthood. Here, there was no looming future or a past to think about—it was the present in its purest, finest form.
"Anyway, I guess it's time for me to write those emails and polish my cover letters." You said, disrupting the bubble of safety that the two of you shared. Reality is wonderful in many ways, and eventually, you'll have to come out of this dejection to move forward.
"Jesus, you're already starting?" Jake exclaimed, dumbfounded at your productivity.
"What? I'm taking this seriously!" You replied, turning around to head back to your apartment. Giving him a slight wave without looking back, you unbolted the lock and left the door ajar, loosely hanging your body on the curved, metallic door handles.
"Man, I could go for another beer."
"Learn how to drink alone." You said, jutting your chin towards his cooler.
"Whatever."
"Anyway, see you." With that, you flashed him a wide smile, gently closing your door afterward.
Jake took a step towards your door before it completely shut. Once he heard your lock click, he stepped back with a sigh, hitting his back against his door frame. Taking a deep breath, he dragged his cooler next to him, longingly admiring your door. It was the exact same design as his, and there was nothing to look at apart from the wooden, lacquered finish and the shiny luster of the steer handles, but he caught himself staring. Right now, your door was the only thing he saw, and he took the last can of beer in his cooler, raising it as high as he could before taking it to his lips.
ii. no plans to make plans.
Where do I start?
Jake was back where he started two weeks ago, watching his laptop overheat with a hundred tabs of job listings open for the world to see. However, instead of spending another week in his cramped, messy room, he forced himself to bring his laptop and charger to the kitchen counter. Pillows and blankets strewn across his bedroom floor were now thrown over his sofa—which wasn't as grand or comfortable as yours. Even if he was essentially repeating the same process of mass applying, checking emails, and receiving calls, there was a stark difference in the change of scenery. For one, being in an open space made everything feel less arduous and suffocating, as if the sun's rays directly gave him energy in a human rendition of photosynthesis. When the breeze from the sea started to blow into the city in the afternoons, he would take an extension cord and do his work in his veranda. Sometimes, he'd see your shadow pacing back and forth in your living room. You would either be holding a phone or your laptop, keeping the same anxious, rapid pacing. He'd often pretend you were on your veranda instead, which further stimulated his productivity.
When another three days or so of application rejection came crashing down his ego, he reached out to you while swallowing his pride. After all, you looked like the type of person who attended every networking opportunity or career-related seminar that your school would host. In hindsight, he knew he should have participated in those seminars and relied on his university's resources, but upon hearing your complaints about how useless they were, he heaved a sigh of relief and continued spamming his resume to the hundreds of listings on his laptop.
How do I start?
"Maybe stop searching within your major or focus area," You said one time when he met you again at your balcony. "I don't really know much about engineering, but I'm sure there are more applications to what you're doing at school—like, I don't know? Environmental engineering? Physics shit? Software or industry-related experiences?"
To his surprise, there were many fields and sub-fields within his program that he ignored because he focused too much on his area of study. Sure, he'd prefer an internship that had something to do with what he was studying, but desperate times call for desperate measures. In the myriad of tabs and bookmarks he'd amassed from recruitment sites like Indeed, Glassdoor, LinkedIn, and SEEK, he had compiled an endless list of opportunities—all of which were remotely connected to his major. There was one on medical technology, another on assurance, and opportunity to work for renewable energy sources. While avoiding the companies and organizations he had already applied for, he repeated the same process of mass sending his resume and slightly tweaking each cover letter. Of course, he learned to swallow his pride and call you for advice after getting another barrage of internship rejections.
"The thing about cover letters is that you really want to stand out."
The two of you were in your usual balcony setting, facing each other while staying within your own rooms. You made slight renovations to your apartment a year before, and one of the useful modifications you asked for was to have an outlet bolted in somewhere. You ended up doing most of your work indoors, but you supposed you'd finally put the outlet to good use by forcing yourself to meet Jake in your respective balconies.
"And how do I do that?"
"It really depends on your perspective." You continued, searching for the email from your career mentors and marketing acquaintances. "Employers have to look at, like, billions of resumes, so they want something unique."
"Nothing about me is unique, though," Jake said, resting his elbows on a rickety, plastic table.
"Nobody's the same, but nobody's any different either. As I said, it's a matter of perspective." You replied while working on your own set of cover letters. "For example, I've lived abroad for a year through an exchange program I did in China, so I wrote that in and tweaked a few words here and there to make me look more "global," if that makes sense."
"Why do Australian companies care about me being "global" when I'm just gonna work here for the rest of my life?" Jake asked, taking the time to curl his fingers into air quotes. You kept a smile to yourself and continued working on polishing your resume. Now, air quotes would always remind you of Jake no matter how hard you tried to distance the two.
"The goal for many companies is to break the global market, so like it or not, you're gonna have to have something remotely international in your resume and cover letter." You replied, leaning your head to your seat to bathe in the warm summer sun. Closing your eyes, you listened to Jake's frustrated grunts, picturing him fidgeting with his keyboard or furrowing his brows at the word global.
"Hmm,"
Jake technically considered himself a Korean-Australian, but because he's spent too much time out of South Korea, he didn't strongly identify with the country's cultural identity anymore. His thoughts and speech were all in English, and he struggled to read Hangul. Even if he could advertise being bilingual, his inability to speak the language in a professional setting hampered down all the opportunities to exploit whatever multiculturalism he had left in him. He was more of a unilingual person than a proud Korean national at this rate. The only people who used Korean in his life were his parents, brother, and some of his Korean friends—although the last group of people only spoke it to hide whatever taboo topic they could not discuss in English.
"I'm checking your LinkedIn right now, and you've listed yourself as Jaeyun Sim. But on your resume, you just wrote your name as Jake. Are you a dual citizen or a Korean-Australian?" You asked. So far, the only thing admirable about Jake's LinkedIn profile—and to a greater extent, his resume—was the quality of his portrait photo. While you took yours at the Australian embassy's photo booth, Jake's picture looked as if he hired a photographer to take employable shots of himself in the backdrop of his university's campus grounds. He was probably lucky enough to know the right crowd—ergo, the type of people who pretentiously brought their mirrorless camera everywhere they went, proclaiming themselves as a "social media photographer," when their photos only look good because they have pretty people in high quality.
Nevertheless, the photo completely drew you in, and you found yourself tilting your laptop against his direction, using your trackpad to zoom in on his face. You've felt like you've seen his smile countless times since meeting him, but to have the exact moment of bliss frozen and captured in an eternal frame evoked a feeling of enchanting bewitchment within you. It wasn't to say you found his features handsome; it was, in your part, more so what his smile conveyed. The more you stared at it, the more your lips began to curl upwards, mimicking the photo etched on your laptop screen. It was the type of smile that was so fascinating you couldn't help but become infected with its radiance.
Any employer should be tempted to hire a smile like this in an instant, you thought. When he obliviously asked why you were smiling, you shrugged him off and boasted about a non-existent job offer.
Feeling Jake's puzzled eyes linger in your hunched, smiling form, you cleared your throat and shut your laptop. You weren't able to count how long you've been dozing off, but the bewilderment in Jake's furrowed brows gave you a good guess that you spent approximately five or so minutes staring at his LinkedIn picture.
"So, as you were saying," He continued, gently pushing his laptop to the side to have a better look at your face. "I emphasize and exploit me being Korean to appeal to employers? Correct?" Jake said bluntly. You heaved a sigh and took a bottle of water from your cooler, dousing your dried lips with a little bit of moisture.
The sun was scorching hot on that particular day. He knew he should have resigned inside or spent the entire day in your apartment, but being too close to you meant throwing pillows at each other while drinking copious amounts of beer. You probably shared the same train of thought like him, which was why you did your best to endure the searing rays that turned every metallic object nearby into a frying pan. From time to time, he could see your sweat dampen your shirt, darkening its initial color into an unrecognizable hue. You also excused yourself multiple times to go back inside your living room to cool down or change your clothes—something he also did after hours of persevering through a sweat-drenched tank top.
"For starters, you can start with marketing your dual citizenship—like, because you're a Korean living in Australia, you have enough experience to communicate between two different cultures or whatever." You said after a long, drawn-out hum. Your voice had the right timber, neither extensively textured nor flat. It was a hum that immediately allowed him to visualize you in reflective thought, hunched over with your knuckles to your chin. Sometimes, you would start to blink excessively, pinching your nose while staring at blank space. What went through your head in these moments was something he didn't have an idea of, but seeing you focused gave him his own push to match your absorbed demeanor.
"After that?"
"I don't know? Any special traits? Being a team player, or working well with adjusting to a new environment?" You suggested.
Special traits?
In a blink of an eye, you suddenly had a box of orange juice in your hands. Taking the thin, plastic straw between your lips, Jake watched the once transparent surface of the straw slowly turn a bright, artificial orange with your delicate sips. You craned your head to the left, as if to ask him if he wanted anything. In response, he shook his head, pretending to scroll through various internship listings and workshops.
In the corner of his eyes, your cooler would always capture his vision. There wasn't anything special about it—it was just a typical cooler that anyone could find in Woolworths. Its design had a standard, trademark blue finish with a white, hard plastic lid. Yours had foldable handles on top of the lid, but the point stands the same; in the end, it was just a cooler. What made it uniquely enigmatic was how your cooler was probably the most well-stocked cooler he's ever seen. It was smaller than the mini-fridge he had in his room, but all types of beverages were crammed in its small container. You also never seemed to run out of drinks, housing a bottomless, infinite supply of whatever you wanted to drink at any given moment. A few days ago, when he saw you take a call in your veranda, you had a bottle of mango cordial in your right hand, taking consistently paced sips as you enthusiastically talked to the other person on the line. Today, you didn't have any beers inside, but you had some cartons of various juices and cans of ciders and seltzers.
What are my special traits?
It was much easier for Jake to direct the question back to you, who now had a can of lemon seltzer resting next to your laptop. It wouldn't do much to help your resume stand out, but if you applied for a beverage company, he had a feeling you'd be hired immediately. Consuming every other beverage but water was, in retrospect, a rare trait, and it could undoubtedly count for a cool party trick or a fun, quirky fact about yourself. Say, if you opened a conversation by saying you could blindly tell the difference between five different apple cider brands, you'd amass a good amount of attention from everyone who happened to be around. If he had the chance to visit your apartment, he'd try swapping a few of your drinks with foreign or off-brand counterparts to see if you can tell the difference.
He tried to think about all the things that made him special in a certain way. He's played the violin for the school orchestra, he's been in both football and rugby clubs throughout his school life, and he was a part of the student council in the last two years of high school. Compared to his empty resume as a university student, his life in his primary and secondary years was more fruitful.
To think about it, many children that shared the same age and social class had all the opportunities in the world either directly handed down to them or forced onto their daily lives by parents who want what's best for their children. In Jake's case, he'd say it was the former. He never felt like his parents were pressuring him to do well in school or join a diverse range of extracurriculars, but it was always at the back of his head to do whatever he could to make his parents proud. When he was a toddler, it meant behaving well in pre-school and making a sizeable amount of friends—for instance, bringing home a perfect test score or a victory from a football match guaranteed a hearty dinner with some of his favorite foods in his primary years. When he was a teenager, each accomplishment he'd add to his school record garnered a burst of joy from his mother and a satisfied nod of approval from his father. Even if he knew they wanted him to "be happy," he was always aware of a looming counter scenario where his so-called "failures" would make them lose hope in him and his future—one where he didn't excel in sports or academics, simply living a mundane life of being as average as one can be. Would his parents continue to shower him with the support he's been receiving so far? Would he continue to unconditionally receive the so-called parental love he got right now if he didn't meet their unspoken expectations?
At that moment during the hot, December summer, sitting in his veranda adjacent to yours, he had an epiphany. One that rattled to the deepest depths of his bones, turning his tanned complexion into a ghostly pallor.
Throughout his entire life, all the way back to when he spoke his first words, he had never truly done something for himself. His affinity for math and physics mostly comes from a subliminal force that his parents pushed on him at a very young age—that doing well in math and science meant doing well in life, which, in return, means he's doing well in general. Sports? It just meant he knew how to cooperate in a team, giving his parents and his family the satisfaction that he knew how to socialize and work with others. In hindsight, all of these subtle pushes towards a path of financial security and broad notions of whatever "success" meant were what his parents thought would be best for him. That was technically one way to show their love and care for him—because what parent would want to see their child fail?
However, it left more room for Jake to think about all his hobbies, acquired tastes, and virtually every single aspect of the life he's lived so far. To what extent were his preferences dictated by his parents? How much of what he liked came from his parents encouraging him to go to football practice or enroll him in private violin lessons? What part of himself was truly, in essence, himself?
Here, he returns his thoughts to you. Although he knew nothing of your private life, family background, and hobbies, one thing he could quickly tell was how independent you were. He wouldn't call it childhood neglect, but he can guess that your parents gave you enough freedom and choice to find what you want to believe in and do what you feel is best for you. There may have been a slight hand in guiding you to a particular path, but your headstrong voice and sharp, hawk-like gaze unquestionably came from the assurance that you know what you wanted for yourself. Even a pastime as small as taste-tasting all the beverages Australia had to offer was, in a sense, something uniquely yours to keep. It was an affinity you decided to build throughout the years because you've grown to love the sugary drinks that you chose. If it were him, he would probably ask for his mother's recommendation, then his father's, then his brother's, then his friends' before making a decision of his "own."
Humans were wonderful creatures who had the extraordinary capabilities to learn and adapt from their surroundings. A further evolution from this survival tactic was the curation of inspiration and creation. People learn from others; then, they adapt what they learn to create and reinterpret something new. In a sense, no human was utterly original, because originality itself was a constant process of remixes and reinventions.
For this disruptive epiphany, Jake no longer believed he was human. He can learn, but he never interpreted anything in his life on his own terms. For instance, he learned to play the violin, but he simply follows the score without making his own slight changes in his playing style. The same can go for sports, where he knows the basics of the game, but he doesn't do anything to improve the team's strategies in a new way. "Go with what you know" was always a phrase that escaped his lips whenever the situation called for it—almost like a mantra to ground himself,
"So, have you thought about any traits yet?" You asked, interrupting his train of thought. The juice box you had in your hands was now lying idly on the surface of your coffee table. A soft, mesh pencil case was placed over the presumably empty juice box to prevent you from littering.
"I can't really think of anything off the top of my head," Jake said after a long, well-thought pause.
"Well, we got something to start with, so try brainstorming from there," You suggested, nodding your head in the rhythms of your movements. When you opened your laptop again, your head followed the momentum, arching slightly backward at the sudden brightness that overwhelmed your eyes.
Most of the friends that Jake has made so far often tell him that labels were reserved and changed depending on a monthly development. Sure, he didn't hit the month mark with you, but he was the type of person who called anyone he exchanged social media accounts with a "friend." With you, however, it was a different story. Your lack of social media aside, he still had no idea what to call you? He initially talked to you as a mentor figure of sorts, but that slowly delved into an empathetic connection that was too informal for a mentorship.
Sometimes, the two of you felt like the same person. One look in each other's eyes usually conveyed your respective emotions. This was usually in your veranda, where the two of you were content with standing next to each other in silence, sipping your woes away with watered-down beer. On other occasions—usually, when he asks you for career-related advice—you felt distant. Not too far away like strangers, but not as near as he wanted you to be.
Right now, you were at that specific distance that he didn't like—neither friends nor strangers; just two people on the balcony, nothing more, nothing less.
"Thanks, I feel proud of being exactly like every Korean-Australian engineering student." Jake bitterly uttered, rolling his eyes at the wanton prospect of marketing his ethnicity.
"Hey, if you think about it that way, you're not gonna get the position," You said, standing up from your seat to prop your elbows on your balcony's railings. "As I said, it's a matter of perspective. If you try to think of it as your strength, then your mind will naturally expand and think of other aspects of yourself as an asset."
Jake stood up and followed suit, leaning as far as he could to close the burgeoning distance he felt between you two. Now, you felt like a nostalgic friend again—a warm, cozy feeling of kindness that made him feel like it was okay to exist.
"Here you are telling me you got fired for no reason, but the board was probably just scared of what you'd bring to the table or something," He said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Your mouth was agape, too stunned to say a single word. There were moments like this where Jake showed effortless kindness in his own abrupt, arbitrary way—one that didn't demand anything in return. It was almost addictive, and you found yourself holding back, gripping the railings of your balcony as tight as you could.
"Earth to Jake?" You said. "You never compliment me, so I guess this warrants a break,"
Your sudden loss of confidence and calm was hard to tell in the summer, and you masked it with your own way of expressing thanks. Even with your eyes heavily squinting at the sky, Jake took your awkward way of thanking him with a burst of laughter. Maybe you'll throw him something in your cooler—better yet, a rather pricy can of good quality seltzer that he saw when you briefly opened it to get another juice box.
"Seconded, but tell me our current scoreboard."
"Let's see,"
You took your phone from your pocket, quickly scanning through apps and emails you've received in the past week. You then checked the texts that Jake sent you on each company or internship opportunity that rejected him.
"You got rejected from three internships, and I've received two emails from employers discussing interview dates and times." You said with a smile, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. Truth be told, you couldn't see anything due to the glare from the sun's rays, but you've scanned through your emails multiple times to memorize what was usually on top of your inbox. Though, to protect his ego, you held off on mentioning two more companies that gave you a call about a potential interview and a brief tour of the company.
"Fuck you," He spat with a smile, raising his two middle fingers in the air. Perhaps this was another way of him showing his kindness to you, and you returned the gesture with a large heart over your head.
"You're welcome."
Since then, another week had passed. Jake doesn't see you as much as he would like, and small glimpses of your reflection in business casual clothing didn't suffice to the casual balcony banter that slowly became a part of your daily lives. It took him a while to process that he was already one month into his summer vacation since most of his days were spent tweaking his cover letters and answering phone calls about interviews. However, when the Facebook posts about Christmas countdowns and house decor began appearing all over social media, he decided to call you to celebrate Christmas together.
Usually, he would book a flight to Brisbane to see his family, but, he thought of staying in Kensington this time. Most of the people he knew back home were already working full-time jobs, and those that were still in school probably had a lot to talk about. As much as he wanted to see his family, he was willing to wait another year until his graduation to face them with even a minuscule amount of honor and pride. The same could be said for his high school friends back home—reunions were events he regularly attended, but in his current state, he would much rather stay in Kensington than listen to the success stories of his childhood friends.
Most of his classmates went home for the summer, and some stayed behind to study for deferred exams or escape the harsh winters of their homeland. Awkward reunions and a lack of conversations aside, he mostly stayed behind after you told him you weren't going home.
"I can't really see my mom right now, especially now that I'm unemployed." You said on the phone when he asked about Christmas. Most of the people who lose their job in movies often go back home to their families to find their footing back. Usually, he would point this out to you, but he decided to nod along with your short call. Your voice felt so far away, owing to the slow pauses you'd often take whenever you talked about your family or your hometown. He didn't pry much into it; after all, he didn't believe he had any rights to do so. As your peer, he had to keep a sizable distance that didn't tread out of his impromptu mentorship with you. As a friend, he understood that you had your own set of boundaries that shouldn't be crossed. As your neighbor, he mostly stayed quiet about the soft sniffles he'd hear from the other side of the wall.
Now, as your holiday companion, he was walking next to you at the farmers market in Leichhardt, hoisting a large, canvas tote bag filled with fruits up his shoulder.
You got a juicer as a Christmas present from one of your friends, who came by to visit you since her family lived in Sydney. She moved to the U.S. after meeting an American international student who she fell in love with, and now she's making more than enough as a young professional in Wall Street. She's tried to talk you into moving to the U.S. or Canada, since the market for finance specialists and investment bankers flourished more in the North American continent. You've thought it through for a few months, but you couldn't bring yourself to move to another country. Adjusting to a different culture or being utterly homesick wasn't an issue to you—it was more so the horrifying scenario of being unemployed in a foreign country.
On Christmas day, Jake woke up to his phone's ringtone right by his ear. He knew who the caller would be without checking the caller I.D., so he threw on a shirt from the floor and rushed to the door. As expected, it was you, carrying a massive juicer in your hands. There was a wide grin plastered on your face, even if you struggled to carry the thing with both hands.
"Can I come in?" You asked, leaning your back against his doorframe. You propped your knees up in support, resting the bottom of the juicer on your thigh. The natural thing to do here is to help you carry the useless machine to his kitchen, but it was that masochistic urge within you to deal with things yourself that prevented him from lending you a hand. If he were to help you carry it to his kitchen, it would be when you gave up and asked him for assistance.
"Is that a freebie from your new workplace?" Jake asked, stepping aside to let you in. Though, judging from your rather casual outfit, you didn't look like you came back from a job interview. Accordingly, you shook your head, dragging your legs to his kitchen.
"It's a gift from a friend." You continued between huffs. "When she asked me what I wanted from the States, I told her to find the most American home appliance ever."
The juicer was now on his spare counter, adding a touch of minimalism to his empty kitchen. When he first moved in, he didn't feel the need to fill his kitchen drawers with tools and frying pans that he would never use. The only item he needed was a pot to boil instant noodles in and a microwave to heat up takeout or frozen meals. He did buy a spatula and a Teflon pan last year to start cooking scrambled eggs. A new addition to his pathetic excuse for a kitchen was a toaster—which he decided to buy after complaining about his frozen waffles and bread going too soggy in the microwave. Now, with the juicer in the corner, he can slowly see his kitchen become a useful part of his apartment. Who knows? After a juicer, he might go for a hand mixer or an air-fryer.
For now, though, the juicer alone served its purpose of allowing Jake to envision what a kitchen should look like. Contrastingly, the juicer was currently just a huge steel block of machinery. If there were no fruits to juice, then was it even a juicer?
"I thought Americans would rather use a blender," Jake said, looking at the magnificent, strange machine that blended into his apartment.
"I guess that works too, but many people here already use blenders," You replied. "Juicers are a bit different since I haven't seen anyone I know own one—not even the person who got this for me from the States."
"My mom used to have one until she threw it out for a blender," Jake said. There was a crumpled manual attached to the side of the juicer, and he slowly peeled it off to read it.
"Yeah, well, mine didn't. We just bought juice at the supermarket." You retorted, folding your arms to your chest as you watched him read the small instruction booklet.
"That's probably why she threw it away, because she realized that children don't really care about health or sugar content," Jake added, remembering a time when his mother would make him freshly squeezed juice. In hindsight, he appreciated the effort that his mother put into making him and his brother's lunches, but as a child, he never really cared much for quality. As long as something was delicious, he was content with whatever went into his palate.
"You know what? Let's get some fruit." You said out of the blue. Jake was too stunned to speak at the moment that he just went with your impulse, following in silence as you took his hand to drag him out of your apartment complex. He didn't take a shower, nor did he have the chance to change into better clothes, but by the time his head started working, he was already inside the bus, next to your side profile. You were watching the rows of tall buildings across the street pass by, each window emitting a pretty blue light. Your eyes trailed along, hypnotized by the alluring luster of the sunlight's reflection.
By the time the two of you reached the farmers market, you were already running off to one of the fruit stalls, carrying a large canvas bag that you impulsively bought along the way.
"Jake! Over here!" You beckoned, turning back with a large grin on your face.
You gripped the canvas bag tight as the summer breeze strengthened, blowing some of your hair off your face. Bathed under the blue skies and the colors of the sun's rays, you were a picturesque scene out of a movie that Jake had watched back in high school. He couldn't remember the title, but there was one part of the film where two people without labels go to a farmers market in the U.S., spending time together for the first time without the complications of lust.
What are you, my girlfriend? He wanted to retort, but kept his mouth shut instead to jog to where you were.
Once Jake had caught up to you, you pulled at his shirt's sleeve to drag him everywhere—to your favorite stalls, the flea market section that sold weirdly intricate trinkets, and of course, the produce section that seduced your noses with fresh fruits.
Throughout the day, there were definitely times where you've lost Jake somewhere. He would always make sure to call you whenever he ended up on the other side of the market or if he was caught up with another pushy salesman's pitch, but that still didn't make your job of finding him any easier. Precious time you could've spent on browsing more fruit stalls often had to be sacrificed to look for Jake, and whenever you did manage to find him, he had a look of joy on his face that was too difficult to turn down.
"So, you're telling me you've never been to Leichhardt before?" You asked, after chasing him down to a handmade jewelry stall. Jake proudly held a bracelet wrapped in petite packaging, carefully removing the tape to reveal colorful, childlike patterns with pearls and yellow smiley faces. Taking your hand in his, he wrapped the accessory onto your wrist, admiring his purchase. He showed off his own wrist for extra measure, which was adorned with a larger rendition of the bracelet he got for you.
"Nope. I mostly stayed in Kensignton because of school." He finally responded, after you had to repeat your initial question to him. "I never took you as a person that went out a lot."
You took your arm up to the sky, using the sunset's marmalade glow to watch the white pearls turn into a shade of bright, pale orange. Jake took his bracelet and did the same, taking his phone out to take a few photos.
"I didn't, but I used to go to the farmers market with my ex a lot when I was still in uni." You casually replied, pulling your arms back down to your sides. Jake stopped in his tracks and looked at you with wide eyes—something you initially took as an insult. Did you really think I was never in a relationship? You wanted to ask, but kept your tongue locked behind your teeth, anticipating whatever was going to come out of his mouth.
"Wait, you went to USyd?"
"Yeah? Why?" You answered, taken aback by the unexpected question.
You showed him a photo of your graduation ceremony last year to back up your claim. It was your run-of-the-mill set of pictures with family, friends, and classmates wearing the classic black graduation gown above your plain dress. There was one photo of you with a smile he's never seen before, displaying the laminated diploma with your name signed by the Dean. You were standing right in front of the campus lawns, arching your head to the side. Your eyes lit up in crescents, forming curvatures with the apples of your cheeks. Jake tried to picture himself holding his diploma with a smile as bright as yours, but he shivered at the thought of seeing himself graduate.
"I should be bowing down to you or something, mate." He abruptly uttered, catching you off guard. Although you should be used to the arbitrary and swift way Jake changes conversation topics, your mind was now filled with your memories as a full-time student. Sure, a year may seem recent, but graduation felt so far away from your current self. Until now, you were an official part of the workforce in national surveys. Currently, you were back to square zero, falling under a category worse than those who aren't considered employed. To think that you would experience your first steps into adulthood along with one of your biggest fears was surreal to you, and all you could do was heave a deep sigh. The least you could do right now was to hide your woes and uncertainties from the person who sought direction in you.
You slowly took your phone back into the canvas bag, which was now filled with all kinds of vibrant fruits. The last photo that Jake looked at before giving your phone back was a photo of you and your ex, smiling happily as you played catch with your diplomas in the sky. By then, the two of you had already broken up, but it was an amicable departure with no trace of bitterness or spite.
"Says the person who's gonna graduate from UNSW," You replied a little later, making up for the lack of comedic timing by impersonating a narrator.
"Why did you move to Kensington when it's a thirty-minute bus ride to your campus?"
Jake's question shouldn't have struck a nerve in you, but it did. By now, the sun had already set halfway, embracing the entire marketplace in a velvety glow. Streaks of violet that painted the afternoon sky harmoniously blended with the neon lights that began to shine in the looming darkness of the night. You pointed towards a nearby cafe, and he followed along, carrying a paper bag of fruits and freshly baked bread in his arms.
"I was gonna move in with my ex, who went to school in the same uni as you." You started once the two of you found an open seat. Taking the menu into your hands, you called for a waiter and ordered what you usually did when visiting this cafe. Jake decided to have what you were having on a whim, mostly because he couldn't look at the menu long enough to decide on something.
"It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it," Jake replied with a small, forced smile.
"No, it's fine! It's all in the past now." You replied, frantically shaking your hands in his direction. "Anyway, we broke up after I signed the lease to the apartment I currently live in. The rent was also cheaper than the rooms I was looking at in Camperdown, so I decided to stay."
He nodded at each word, noticing how fondly you talked of your past lover. How he wasn't a bad person, how both of you had naturally fallen out of love, and how in another life, you would still choose to date him despite knowing the eventual outcome. There was no hint of romance or affection, however, and your nostalgic tales of going on dates at cafes or turning his dorm room into a mini bar sounded more like your typical college montage than an ideal relationship.
Did you come here with your ex too? In this very seat, sharing the same drink, with that big smile on your face?
By the time your drinks had arrived, Jake had been staring out the window for what felt like an hour, watching people turn into a quick blur that blended with the shadows that expanded as the sun slowly descended back down to earth. At first, you tried to alert him—tap his shoulder, call his name, or even swap your drinks to see if he'd notice. However, after five more minutes of waiting, you decided to leave him be. A part of you had a feeling that he was going to bring it up in the conversation at some point, and another started to run several simulations on what might have triggered that response.
"You know, I didn't think of you as someone who'd be in a relationship." Jake blurted out after a long pause. He kept his eyes on the window, chin rested on his palm.
"How come?"
"I don't know? You seem like the type of person to prioritize work over anything,"
You laughed bitterly, forcing yourself to look at the man in front of you. Of course, you just began getting closer to him, so a few bumps on the road was to be expected. Even then, the reality of human complexity began to baffle you—one moment, the two of you felt attached to the hip, and all of a sudden, you couldn't even talk to him without worrying about the smallest details. Perhaps this was how people worked, or you were simply doomed to have all the personal relationships in your life end in a cold flame.
"Honestly, I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult." You muttered under your breath after a long, silent pause. You gave yourself the time to examine his features under the dim lights of the crowded cafe. With the way he sat right now, elbows glued to the table and gaze wandering off the mundane view of the window, you couldn't help but hold back another sigh from escaping your lips.
You really do remind me of someone,
"It could be both," Jake replied, sharply turning his head back to you.
"Both…" You repeated, nodding your head.
You took your cold coffee to your lips, pressing the liquid onto their surface out of habit before taking small sips. Jake did the same, realizing that his mug was still full. When you raised your ceramic mug to your lips, he flimsily repeated, causing both of you to laugh at each other.
And just like that, everything seemed to be alright again.
"How about you?" You asked between chuckles, carefully timing your drink so it wouldn't shoot up your nostrils.
"I think it's quite obvious,"
He put his drink down and flashed you a smile wrapped in layers of emotions. You slowly picked apart at each one, curating questions in your head based on the twitches of his cheek or the solemnity of his gaze. There was a refreshing air to him when he spoke about his previous relationships, and you nodded accordingly to each story he had to offer. Although reluctant at first, he was already an unstoppable chatterbox by the third sentence, as if he exhaled stories of endless summer flings, nights to remember, and relationships that were too short to be considered serious relationships. By the last girl, his breathing slowed into that of mild relaxation, and you understood well enough what he just went through.
Catharsis.
It was probably the exact reason why you decided to share your own previous relationship with him, despite the short time you've known him. Stories of exes between a cup of coffee should be something told after a few months of knowing each other, but with this version of Jake in front of you, you felt that you could share everything and forget about it the next day. Judging by the lightheartedness of his tone throughout his own lists of past lovers, you were relieved to know that he reciprocated the sentiment.
There was also a slight hint of envy in the atmosphere at your contrasting stories. Sure, yours didn't end up in a bonafide disaster like some of Jake's stories, but perhaps the amicability of it all made it even harder for you to process. There were no feelings of love and affection between you two anymore, and yet here you were, reminiscing over him like he was the best part of your life. For Jake, it was his supposed aloofness to it all. He was supposed to act like he didn't remember or cherish the drunken night-outs and temporary nature of his relationships, yet whenever he was asked about it, all the details came crashing down at once. The smell of the air, the distant sound of the sea, and the bright smiles of whoever was next to him at any given moment. There were a few hazy fragments that took more time to visualize, but everything else came in full clarity.
Was it nostalgia? I don't know.
"I don't even think I've ever been with someone for four months since leaving home," Jake said, reflecting on all the so-called relationships he'd been through. "I kept telling myself I didn't have time to commit, but when I think about it, I was probably just scared."
"Scared of?"
"Rejection? I don't know?"
"You don't wanna get dumped, so you dump them first, right?" You blurted out, then covered your mouth as a sign of apology. He gave out a small chuckle, taking his drink while slowly shuffling his seat. He nodded his head towards the window, and you gave him space to sit next to you. Once the two of you were side to side, brushing shoulders and sharing the same drink, he reached for the menu to refill your orders.
"Well, not really. It's more like I draw the line before things get too serious."
"When do things get too serious?" You asked too quickly. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
"Nah, it's fine." He replied, shrugging you off and giving your shoulder a light pat. "To be honest, I haven't thought about it. It just happens instinctively, when my gut tells me that I'm slowly going mad or something."
"Mad as in?"
"I start to think about her every day for no reason, or when I prioritize seeing her over my uni work or my friends. Things like that."
That's what being in love is supposed to be, dumbass, you thought, emptying your drink right before the waiter came to refill your mugs. Jake surprisingly kept his eyes off the alcoholic section of the menu, opting to order one of the cafe's cute lattes. Considering your order was a sugarless dark roast, you lightly hit his shoulder as an apology for instinctively ordering too fast. He offered you his drink, and the two of you took photos of it before clinking your mugs together. You didn't know what you were raising your glass for, but perhaps it was to recognize your camaraderie regarding hopeless romance and failing adulthood.
"Yeah, being in love is scary, isn't it?" You replied, feeling the warmth from your mug. "You start to lose track of everything around you, your judgment gets skewed, and you start to devote your all to a person that has the potential to call it quits and leave at any given moment."
"I mean, I can see how the struggle is worth it if the end goal is a wholesome, pure relationship based on hard-earned trust, but I don't really see myself going through the process to get to that sort of place."
The hums of Jake's voice resonated within you as he spoke, and you took his words to heart. Being in the middle of young adulthood and full employment definitely left both of you on a confusing, unnavigable threshold. By age, the two of you were technically considered young. Both of you had just turned twenty-two, and there were many years ahead of you to figure yourselves out. At the same time, you being out of university and Jake having to decide what to do before he officially enters the workforce adds a time limit to just how much you can continue living outside the shackles of adulthood. In a sense, you had too much time in your hands, but simultaneously, you didn't—and right now, you were feeling the dilemma in its entirety. There was all the time in the world to continue the race towards employment and a "stable" career, and yet each time idly spent together made it clear that time was running out.
"I kind of understand," You nodded, taking the mug to your lips. "Why get a boyfriend when I can have all the benefits and not get hurt with a friend, right?"
You gazed at the window, taking another sip of your bitter beverage. Feeling the weight of Jake's head on your shoulder, you took your hands to ruffle his hair, rubbing gentle circles on his temple. The sun was no longer present, and just like that, the night came with the vivacity and vibrance of the city. Both of you knew that in some part of your souls, you were using each other to fill a certain emptiness. Whether it was a lack of love or direction in life didn't matter so long as the effects were the same.
"Never thought I'd agree with you on stuff like this," Jake muttered under his breath. You leaned your head on the crown of his head, softly chuckling in response.
"Well, this is coming from someone who prioritizes my career over anything else,"
"True."
Deja vu had rushed into your system as you felt Jake's head hit your chin in a state of panic. He was juggling his phone between his hands to turn the blaring ringtone off, which turned heads in the entire cafe. Jake rapidly bowed his head as an apology, excusing himself to rush out the door. He then waved at your reflection in the glass window, turning back to finally pick up the phone.
"Hello?" Jake greeted his unknown caller, slowly lifting his phone right next to his year. He watched your reflection as you waved and ducked your head into your own phone, casually scrolling through whatever you missed. Through the corner of his eyes, he saw you gather the canvas bags of fruits and several groceries upright, leaning them on the seat's frame so they don't topple over.
"Jake! I haven't talked to you in a while! Is now a good time?" A familiar voice replied on the other end of the line.
"Ah, Prof Lewis! Long time no talk!"
How did you get my number? Jake thought. As far as he could remember, he only gave his professor his school email during his voluntary apprenticeship.
"I sent you an email a week ago, but I didn't get a reply, so I thought I'd call you." The professor's voice was slower and heavier than usual—perhaps it was the signal? Or maybe it was about his poor job as an assistant. Whatever it was, Jake held his breath in silence, heightening his senses to hear what the professor had to say.
Amidst the cacophony of the bustling city and the tourists who trotted around Leichhardt, all he could hear was his breathing and the shuffling of papers on the other end of the line.
"It's about your independent research and the thesis you wrote," The professor spoke after a long pause filled with the sound of rustling paper. "I was reading through it since your supervisor asked me for my input."
Shit.
Professor Lewis was one of the stricter markers he's encountered in university. Although he wasn't unreasonable by any means, he was notorious for giving out exams that tested his students' critical thinking rather than their memorization skills. He was the type of professor who often emphasized real-life situations and case studies in his lectures, adapting his stories into an exam about fluid mechanics or machine kinematics. Whenever he—not his T.A. team—personally called his students, it either meant they flunked his assignments or had an opportunity to work under him.
"Jake," Professor Lewis' voice started with a deep sigh. Upon hearing his name, Jake held his breath even more, anticipating the worst. In his defense, he did devote his all to his thesis—after all, academics were his only saving grace. If he lost all the opportunity to gain internship experience or work co-op jobs, then he had to have something commendable in his resume to prove that he was something with the theoretical skills and knowledge for his career path.
"You're one of the few students who have amazed me since you've attended my fluid mechanics class. You've blown me away again with this thesis, and I really think you should consider going into research."
One thing that Jake couldn't comprehend about Professor Lewis was his monotonous voice. He couldn't tell if his professor was serious, sarcastic, or downright cruel. By this point, Jake felt his head go dizzy with a barrage of emotions that swelled in his chest. Should he be happy that one of the toughest professors enjoyed reading his thesis? Or should he be nervous and scared at the prospect of taking his first step into adulthood? What if all of this was a joke? No matter how much Jake wanted to reply, all he could muster was a silent breath of awe.
"I've already worked with you before, when you helped me out with my own research. So if you need a referral letter for grad school, just come to me and we can work things out." The professor calmly said.
"I'm also looking for a research assistant again—this time, it's on electron flow in 3D materials. This position is also a paid opportunity, since we're working with other schools across the world."
"Of course, I'll give you some time to think about it, but—"
"When do I start?" Jake interrupted, failing to contain his excitement. It was easy to tell how difficult he was finding it to accept that all of this was really happening.
"Great! You're supposed to start after you graduate, so that's around March. You have two months to prep yourself, so I'll send some research papers and articles you can read in your free time." The Professor added.
"If you're interested in making money on the side, I can also get you a teaching assistant position in one of my classes."
"Thank you so much, Prof Lewis. I won't disappoint you,"
The call was over as soon as it had started. Jake rushed to you with a wide grin on his face, taking your shoulders inside his arms. Everything was happening too fast, so you didn't have enough time to react. Instead of pushing him away, you joined him in his own little celebration, slowly taking your arms to his shoulder blades and giving each wing a gentle pat. Jake was naturally warm, but there was something special to the temperature he exuded. The coziness you felt from his embrace was too infectious, and you found yourself cheering with him despite not knowing what to celebrate in the first place.
"What's up? Your mom?" You asked under your breath. You felt him shake his head on your shoulder, giving you a chance to let go.
"Nope, even better." He replied with a smile.
"Your ex who wants to get back with you?"
"Guess again,"
"That girl who ghosted you some time ago, who now wants to talk again?" You chuckled. When the waiter came with the bill, Jake stopped your hand and took his credit card out, giving you a sly wink. Despite your inner protests, you knew that there was nothing that could stop Jake in his current state, so you shrugged your shoulders as a sign of forced approval.
"That's not any better than an ex, but alright."
"So, you've scored a date?"
"No, that's not what I meant!"
This girl, I swear.
Jake took his card back in his tiny wallet, startled at your seemingly childish guesses. He would have expected a career-oriented person such as yourself to find out immediately, but he held his tongue, enjoying your somewhat subtle displays of youth. Taking both the canvas bags and his own paper bag of groceries in his arms, he held the door with his feet. You did a dramatic curtsey and grabbed one of the canvas bags, telling him that you needed to help.
"What is it, then?"
"It's that prof I used to work with."
"Hydrodynamics guy?" You replied, imagining the typical image of a mad scientist. You didn't even know what the word meant, but somehow, you were able to remember the conversation where Jake mentioned it.
"Yeah, he read my thesis, and he wants me to work for him again."
The sudden news almost made you drop your canvas bag of fruits to the ground. In the knick of time, you caught a bright, red apple that glowed even in the darker areas of the city streets. You should be happy for him—after all, the reason you started this was to help him out of his slump. As the person who graduated and entered the workforce first, it was your job to mentor him and guide him. However, you didn't expect him to turn the tides this quickly. Although his term ended, his graduation ceremony was later in March. Considering the time, you'd at least expected for him to rely on you a little more until he finally held his diploma in his hands.
On the surface, you forced yourself to muster a smug, prideful smile. Deep inside the depths of your heart, however, you knew that you had nothing to do with Jake's impressive accomplishments. When people mention the haves and have nots, all you can think of is the difference between yourself and Jake. Unlike Jake, who was naturally gifted with intelligence, you had to work to get to where you were back in university. Every prize and position you've held could've slipped away from your hands if you didn't strive to maintain your standing, and each day was a struggling battle of fighting against natural talent.
"Great! You're finally catching up to me!" You said, trying your best not to stutter. You continued to watch each step you took carefully, hoping you wouldn't fall any time soon.
Like a series of blurry shots taken by a moving camera, all the colors of the city faded—images of the buildings and the telephone poles flashed through your mind in a nauseating frenzy. You saw Jake in the distant future, working his way up the research and development ladder in a laboratory somewhere in North America. The thought alone sent endless shivers down your spine, and you did your best to snap out of it, filling your head with the Jake that was right in front of you.
"Oh, I think you need to catch up to me." He replied, returning your smug tone tenfold. "This position is paid, and he asked me if I wanted to become a teaching assistant for a bit."
"Two jobs?! Jake, that's fucking insane!"
Each word of assurance that came out of your mouth boomeranged back to you, filling your chest with an immense pain that made it too difficult to breathe.
"What happened to the three job interviews?" Jake suddenly asked. You halted again, quickly catching the fallen fruits back in the bag before they fell to the ground.
"Everything's next week because we're on holiday." You replied with a small smile, hiding away the pain that stabbed you more ferociously with each second.
"Anyway, what do you say? Pub crawl?"
"Nah, I've grown past the pub crawls and night outs after leaving uni." You muttered, passing off the chance to celebrate with him. "You can go if you want, though."
Please go alone, don't mind me at all. You wanted to say, but kept your mouth shut and went along with the usual tone. Without even realizing it, your fingers instinctively pressed themselves against the bag, leaving marks on some of the fruits that were inside. Kicking scraps of rocks in the pavement that led to the bus stop, you tried to hold back the tears that were waiting to burst out of your eyes.
"What, and celebrate with some randos? I mean, that's what I'd probably do, but what am I gonna do with all these fruits?"
"I can bring it home? We're neighbors, so I can just drop it off the next day and make you some orange juice to help you recover from your hangover."
Even though you kept saying the same excuses through different sentences, repeating yourself so often that Jake saw through your facade, your tone managed to remain opaque—with no hint of melancholy in it. Jake, who believed himself to be an observant fellow, can't even seem to notice that each second you spent with him suffocated you.
"Why can't we just test the juicer out together?"
"What about your pub crawl?"
"I'm not really feeling it if you're not coming with me."
Disguising your distraught tears as that of joy, you hooked your arms onto his, using his shoulder as a handkerchief to wipe all your pain away. By the time the two of you had arrived in your apartment building, you took the fruits to his room and made yourselves a terrible rendition of a strawberry daiquiri. Before you knew it, you've lost count of how much vodka you put inside the juicer, hysterically laughing while watching strawberries get crushed in the cylindrical, metallic plates of the machine. Jake, too, felt the four walls around him cave in, melting into one, fine puddle. The darkness of the night seemed too still, startling him—and yet amidst the void, you seemed more sharply visible than anything in his line of sight.
Jake didn't understand it, and he didn't have the power to think anymore. The floor to his veranda was slowly merging with his feet, turning into a tunnel that led back to you. He wasn't so sure with what he saw as of now; one second, you were extremely joyful, covering his cheeks with sloppy kisses and high-pitched laughter. In another, you would cradle his arms and bury your face in his shoulder, lamenting in incomprehensible bursts of anger, bitterness, and despair. With each emotion you showed, you grew more and more transparent—almost see-through in a sense. It was as if you would disappear into thin air if Jake didn't hold you tight or feel your rapid pulse on his nimble thumbs.
"C-can I—"
In the very balcony that brought the two of you to what could've been a path of camaraderie amidst the battle called adulthood, Jake's arms felt your shape with the cool breeze of the summer night, perfectly molding each crevice of your body with his touch. His warmth resonated with yours on a cellular level, dispelling any winds that caressed your bare neck. Holding his cheeks in your palms, you allowed yourself to surrender to his moon-shaped gaze, sloppily touching his forehead with your own. The sparkle in Jake's eyes was of someone who believed in dreams—that reality can manifest into one's hands with a single push. You closed yours and grazed your lips to his nose, then to his cheek, and then to his soft lips, hiding the terribly painful gleam with the sweetness of your tongue.
And so, fate had decided that Jake no longer needed you anymore.
iii. elephant in the room
"So, tell me about yourself,"
You heard the door close. In front of you were two suited men—one that looked fresh off the boat, and the other, who was probably a veteran hiring manager for at least a decade. There was an unearthly disquietude that loomed in the entire room, making the blazer you donned feel heavier than it already is. You've been through many practice interviews, and you've already memorized the patterns of the questions that were going to be thrown in your direction. Adding to that, you've recited all the "curveball" questions to your memory, crafting several idealistic responses to each and every one of them.
And yet, despite how much preparation you've done over the years, the first half of an interview always had the same, foreboding atmosphere that holds a firm, suffocating grip on your neck. In an instant, your mind goes blank, failing to recall all of the training and preparation you went through. Despite the rush of blood to your head, you mustered a small, gentle smile to your interviewers, folding your hands to your lap while fixing your posture. Then, you made sure to keep your eyes on the two men in front of you, recalling the importance of nonverbal first impressions.
"Well, I've been a professional finance analyst for over a year, specifically in the commercial sector. I previously worked for a large pharmaceutical company to provide business partners with investment analysis and sales strategies. Now, I'm looking to expand my experience across different industries, particularly the tech sector, which is why I am very interested in joining your company." You said, dictating every word of your story with a humble, yet confident tone.
"Pharmaceutics? That's quite rare for a young person like you," The veteran replied, flicking his pen back and forth to scribble nonsense onto a notepad.
There were industry secrets across several forums you've scoured regarding job interviews—how pretty privilege prevails for women, how the notes hiring managers to jot down are just for show, and how the questions being asked have a predictable, universal formula that is recyclable across all sectors. Using the weapon of femininity, you exuded a gentile, dainty air of sensibility, carefully timing your glances between the veteran and his timid assistant. Whenever you spoke, you made sure to widen your eyes a little, playing with the light to add sparkles to your irises. You also made use of your hands, keeping them at a level that emphasized your sentences, yet never disrupted the flow of the conversation.
"I've voluntarily worked as a finance analyst at the University Health Center for two years, which gave me the necessary experience and skill set to work in the medical finance field."
"I see," The veteran said with a hint of contempt. "Young professionals like you frankly intimidate me, because you lot are all overqualified!"
"Thank you," You replied, keeping your cheeks lifted in an inviting smile.
This HM's a fucking asshole.
When hiring managers use the term "overqualification" to reject a job applicant, it is usually out of an absurd inferiority complex. Suppose parents spend all their income on sending their children to a top-tier university without a guarantee of securing employment. What was the point of marketing the "perfect education" to produce useless overqualified children who have too many skills for a specific job? The more you wrapped your head around it, the more you realized how empty and outlandish the standards for hiring managers were. The current norm of company loyalty also made it harder for an "overqualified" person such as yourself to secure a job in your early steps into adulthood. It should be akin to common sense that people come and go, and as much freedom a company has laid off their workers; workers should also have the freedom to take a leave or find better pay when it suits their interests.
"So, why did you leave such a huge company to work with us? If I were you, I would've stayed and worked for a promotion!"
What a bitch!
Although you've anticipated a question like this to appear at some point in the interview, you were still taken aback by how it was asked rather early. Usually, questions relating to conflict or job complications came in the later phase of the interview, after the hiring manager has gathered enough information about their applicant. Nonetheless, you skimmed through the scenarios you've replayed in your head, finding the perfect solution to clear the challenge presented in front of you. In situations like these, it was extremely important to appeal your skills and expertise to the usefulness of your employer's company. It was also a crucial step in your direction to express genuine interest and intrigue with how the company's vision and mission align with your work ethic. With your thorough research on each of the companies you applied to, you eased yourself into the steel chair you were sitting on, maintaining your straight posture while brightening your smile.
"Well, your company paved the way for fintech in Australia, and I would love to be a part of the team that made financial products easier to access to the Australian population." You explained, tilting your head to the side and utilizing subtle body language to the fullest.
Hiring managers were always unreadable. They were either enthusiastic about your presence, or completely indifferent to you. From experience and the mentors you've encountered, you've understood that the attitude presented by a hiring manager during an interview did not guarantee employment or an acceptance of an application. It was the same story you've heard when your high school friends got rejected by some of the top schools in the world. Initially, they came home from their interviews gushing about how they connected with the interviewer, only to receive a deferral or a complete rejection from their "dream school."
The room was now flooded with a stuffy weight that made you lose your breath with each word. There was no use trying to read through your interviewer's face, yet you still tried, using a smile to cover up your intentions. Are they satisfied with my experience? Do they think I'm "overqualified," or is it the opposite? Should I have reduced some of my experiences in my resume? Have I done enough?
Have I done enough?
"I know that your team has started this company to help citizens become smarter with their home loans, helping millions of consumers worldwide to easily understand the complexities of finance."
The veteran tapped his pen to his desk in a predictable rhythm, each motion synchronizing with the rapid palpitations of your heart. You took some time to swallow all that was building up within your mouth cavities, hearing every gulp and swish that your body produced. His assistant gave quick glances between his laptop, you, and his superior, frantically typing the meeting minutes in the same rhythmic pattern as the veteran's pen.
"The part that spoke to me, in particular, was how this position has given me the chance to fully switch over into the fintech sector, showcasing my years of experience in data analysis and SQL."
You could've sworn there was magic within the veteran's pen, for each tap he made on the table's surface slowed time for you. Whenever you blinked, your lids would feel heavier than before, and the weight of your head was overbearing. At any rate, you anticipated your breath from stopping altogether, turning your vision into blurred dots and abstract figures of pure matter.
"Joining a fintech company like yours makes sense to me because I believe your position has given me the opportunity to combine my technical skills with my interest in finance and investing."
The veteran's pen had stopped, and time stopped with it. The small, circular wall clock in front of the desk was completely frozen, and the assistant had stopped typing on his laptop. All sound ceased to exist, .trapping you in a vacuum of nothingness. At this moment, you were heavy and light at the same time—feeling weightless yet too grounded on the cold tiles of the corporate office. You've practiced your introduction and your responses hundreds of times before, and yet your tongue was never accustomed to the tension that drifted in the spaces of the questions the hiring managers had asked you.
The veteran's mouth remained open, as if he wanted to interrupt. Instead, he put his pen down, idly staring into the crevices between your brows. There was a look of boredom on his face, which was cleverly disguised with an artificial, uncanny smile that made his lips turn in an unnatural angle. Despite the cheery, upturned structure of his cheeks, his eyes were duly impatient by your answer. Feeling the sweat trickle down your temple, you cleared your throat and allowed yourself to breathe, finding the perfectly concise way to wrap up what essentially became a show-and-tell presentation of all your superior achievements.
"Although I did say I was planning to leave medical finance, I believe that my input and prior experiences can boost your company's financial products by providing people with patient credit assistance. With this, I can confidently say that I am very excited to see how I'll be able to contribute to the firm."
"Interesting,"
You began to dig your nails inside your palm in an attempt to activate your nerves. Although you tried to suppress any form of pain or discomfort with your well-practiced smile, you dug further and further, feeling a trickle of blood gush out of your skin. Your breathing had slowly gone awry, and the veteran transformed into a person you've been trying to forget.
In an instant, the four walls of the office building melted down into the wallpaper that haunted your dreams, transporting you into an endless spiral of all the things in your life that made you afraid of continuing into adulthood. Even if there were only two people in the room that watched your every move, you sensed a hundred pairs of eyes that were currently peering right through your flesh and bones, tearing each muscle fiber apart until all that was left of you were fragmented scraps that were too broken to piece together. A high-pitched ringing started to grow louder and louder in your ear, making it difficult to hear what the veteran was trying to say. You tried to lean closer to salvage what was left of the interview, but instead, your hearing had worsened. The banging noise of the incessant ringing merged with the extremely rapid palpitations of your heart. You kept your heeled feet on the ground as much as you could, attempting to fix the sudden wobbliness that attacked your legs.
"Our country adopted a rather complex hybrid health system, and there are a good amount of people—such as expats and foreign residents—who might need the financial assistance." The assistant blurted out, resuming his inhuman typing on his laptop.
The veteran nodded along, taking his pen to his chin in pensive thought. He then took your file and flipped through your resume—just as he did when you entered the room. Adjusting his glasses, he leaned into his assistant's ear, whispering inaudible mumbles that were too soft from where you sat. The assistant nodded his head along, typing again on the keyboard while the assistant drew circles on a specific point of your resume.
"You did say that you left your previous workplace—am I right to assume that something happened? Perhaps a conflict with your boss or colleagues?"
Checkmate.
The veteran twiddled his pen while keeping his eyes on your resume, glancing back and forth between you and the sheet of A4 paper that practically defined your life. Swallowing all that was left in your mouth, you took a deep breath and rehearsed the answer you had prepared.
"Well, our department was working together to procure a logistics report on the company's new R&D project. My department head and I were arguing over the calculation of the projected budget, and this fight stretched into the day we were supposed to present our findings. Thankfully, we peer-reviewed our respective methods, and because the third parties mostly agreed with what I've calculated, we used my findings in the presentation."
The last thing you saw was the look of disappointment and disdain on the veteran's face, pictured in sharp clarity. Faint voices of the assistant's panic and the door flinging open entered your ear canals, but you were too quick to shut down, allowing your lids to close into a momentary peace. In the darkness, your head spun in an endless spiral that led to nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Flashing images of that fateful moment echoed in your head, replaying fragments that were buried deep into the back of your brain. While everything else remained patchy, you would eventually piece each fraction of the memory into a whole picture, reliving the same specific scene over and over again. You're not sure when you'll be released from the spell that locked you in, but at this point, you didn't feel like trying anymore.
You were immediately rushed to the nearby hospital, spending a few moments in the ER before going home. The assistant had stayed until you woke up, giving you his business card and signing off with a "you'll be contacted accordingly." This has been the third or fourth time you've collapsed during a job interview, and each time you recovered, you were given a sedative that amplified all the things you've tried to forget.
You could still hear the voice of your former department head bouncing back and forth throughout your whole body, calling you a bitch and more colorful insults, among other things. Your cheek still tingled and trembled from the harsh slap you received after the presentation that should have guaranteed you a promotion.
You think you're so smart, huh? Graduated from a top school with high distinctions, had internships for big companies, worked in a fucking hospital when you're not even a med major?
Who the fuck do you think you are?
I honestly wish I knew the answer to that. You thought, staring at the white ceiling of the emergency room. Sleep was coming to you again, along with the hysteric bursts of anger your former department head had subjected you to. You tried to close your eyes again, feeling the nurse's presence coming closer. Instead of counting sheep, you counted the number of insults it took for him to break you.
You didn't mean to do what? Make me look stupid in front of all our business partners and investors? Is that what you wanted to do, huh? Make yourself look like this prissy miss goody-two-shoes smartass bitch who's so special because you don't have a dick in the workplace?
Fuck. Off.
When you closed your eyes, the office came to a complete picture. It was a sunny afternoon, and you had been working for the company for eight to nine months. Although you were a new face, you had quickly climbed up the ranks for being an efficient worker who meticulously crafted every logistics report and went through all angles of a risk assessment. In a sense, you were the perfect financial analyst that any company could ask for. If you had taken mathematics, you would have been the face of what an actuary should be, over-analyzing everything from all perspectives to produce accurate, solid advice moving forward.
Picturing your former department head's face was a difficult task. No matter how hard you tried, all you could see was a dark cloud of pure matter, erasing any semblance of what a human face should look like. In some renditions, you could only see the silhouette of his body—his underbelly sticking out of his expensive, leather belt, the smell of nicotine and beer that twirled in his middle-aged breath, and the cold touch of his wedding ring as he twisted your wrist and launched his palm on your cheek.
You told them what? That you did everything right? That your boss can't even do his own fucking work and gets something as basic as statistical calculations wrong?
It was tiring, really. Arguing with yourself all the time, having all these different voices in your head replay the same scenario as you tried to convince yourself that you weren't at fault. You know you did the right thing, but if the right thing had barred you from ever succeeded a job interview, then was it truly the right thing?
Feeling all the air accumulate inside your lungs, you took in the scent of antiseptic and alcohol that filled the air. Ironically, your former workplace's headquarters had a similar, chemically-infused aroma throughout the entire building—especially when you passed by the Research and Development section. You often had to visit the labs to run through the logistics with the research team, and you also checked whatever costs and equipment they needed to ensure everything ran well. It was also your former job to gain more insight on what it took to develop a vaccine or discover a new flu pill, running the prices of chemicals and lab maintenance expenses in your head as the gas mask filled you with your own breath.
Women.
Would it have been different if you weren't a woman? If you were a man, would your former department head treat you better? Would he have praised you instead of firing you on the spot? If you kept your entire background the same but applied as a man instead, would he still lash out like that? Or would he give you backhanded compliments and watch you slowly climb the corporate ladder to success?
How much of a difference would it have made if you weren't you?
This is why I can't stand you. It could've been so easy to just shut the fuck up and let me do the talking, but no, you had to answer that one question about the process and tell the truth instead!
You can vaguely remember what had happened in the conference room. In a neatly pressed suit that you got dry-cleaned specifically for this event, you had a clipboard to your right, while a pointer to your left. When investors and business partners had asked about who calculated all the numbers to show a detailed prediction on where to take the next term's sales strategies, you quickly blurted out your own name instead of passing your work off to your boss, who desperately needed to keep his position. Unlike you, he was someone who got into the company based on his vast network and his social skills. Everything you lacked, such as naturally flawless presentation skills or innate charisma, was something he had. In turn, you were the one who had the theoretical skills necessary for your job and your department—the smarts that carried the team.
Here's my answer: you're fired.
"What the fuck?" You whispered, feeling your breath quicken again. The same nurse had rushed back to you, patting circles on your shoulders while helping you stand up from your position. On his hand was a couple of white, pristine tablets that he gently told you to drink with water. Bowing your head as thanks, you slowly took the pills onto your palm, tossing them inside your mouth in one, swift motion.
Your table's cleared, your stuff's in the trash, and you don't have a place here anymore.
Get lost.
I wish you the best in your future endeavors.
After a few more hours in the emergency room, you slipped your heels on and showed your health card to the receptionist, filling all the necessary paperwork. The hospital got back to you with a couple of blood tests and chest x-rays, showing you that your vitals were normal. The only thing that differed from your last few interviews was the recommendation of a checkup to discuss a potential detection of anemia in your system. You politely took the tests and stuffed them in your bag, waving goodbye as you wobbled out of the hospital.
When you regained enough composure to start seeing clearly again, you took small strides to the bus stop that led back to your apartment. As you walked along the jagged pavement, tears began to flow one after another. The streets, your footsteps, the eerily quiet buildings—everything seems distorted and warped. You felt your breath halt again, feeling a harsh, firm grip on your neck. The cool, summer breeze stung your eyes, and you wrapped your blazer to your shoulders to keep yourself warm.
Things that your eyes normally took in, like the city's skyline or the rows of trees and telephone poles on each block, were blurred with the watery residue of your tears. Everything came zooming in your direction, and you felt too powerless to stop it all.
It was rather pathetic to you that one man can hold so much power over your future. One man and his string of words could render you defenseless and frozen still, unable to move forward from everything that had happened. Wherever you went, no matter what company you applied to, and whoever you called for a job interview, all traced back to the one man that put a nail in the coffin of your first steps into employment.
Whenever you felt like giving up, you started to see Jake's face cheering on, encouraging you to stand up and try again. Who cares about what a dumb, fat boomer has to say? You know your worth! You heard him say right next to you, with the same, bright smile on his face as he tossed you a can of cold beer from his cooler. There was no denying that tomorrow would come, or the day after that—who knows? Maybe next week would arrive just fine, but it was so hard to keep living an endless cycle, and you were tired of feeling the same, sick feeling that muddled the depths of your soul.
You wanted it all to end, but for now, you decided it was time to go home. Seeing Jake wasn't on your list of priorities, but you just needed to be in your room. Nothing good would come out of it, and it was just another way for you to prolong your idle, still life as an unemployed citizen. The more you questioned everything, the more you flooded yourself with bigger waves of despair. Right now, you were utterly devoid of all hope in the world.
Before you could see the dim, distant glow of the bus' headlights, a nostalgic voice delicately said your name.
Jake?
You abruptly turned around and saw the person that once made you feel at home, gently waving his arms in your direction. The timber of his voice as it bounced back and forth between your ears tugged at your heartstrings, painfully tightening your chest with a wave of ease.
"Leo?" You cried out joyfully, remembering how it felt like to say his name again.
He slowly picked up his steps, dropping his backpack on the floor to give you a warm, tight hug. In one fell swoop, he lifted you off your feet, twirling you around with the hot, summer breeze. You nuzzled your head onto his neck; the two of you were past the point of awkward greetings and shyness.
"Wow," Leo said, taking your cheeks in his palms. His eyes were always so glassy, "It's been so long,"
"Yeah…" You replied, burying your head on his shoulder. It was a nice reminder to know that the crown of your head still fit perfectly by the crook of his neck.
"You got thinner, huh?" He said, hoisting you up in the air again.
"Work hasn't been the best, to be honest."
"Do you have time?" He asked, taking your cheeks in his palms. You took his sleeve and inhaled the aroma of coffee beans and vanilla that always surrounded him. What a timing, you thought to yourself.
"Yep! I was just on my way home," You replied, masking your tear-filled voice with one of pure happiness. Even if the two of you weren't together anymore, Leo always evoked a feeling of home whenever he was with you.
"Sweet. Wanna go to the usual place? For old time's sake,"
"Sure."
As the two of you walked to the cafe that witnessed your many firsts with him, you looked up at the sky, watching the sun slowly sink into the horizon. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that in this world, there was no place for sadness. Not a single one.
Leo loved any place that specialized in serving drinks. Coffee shops, tea houses, pubs, bars, smoothie shops—he loved all of them equally. According to his friends on campus, he could often be seen by the nearby cafes, drinking the recommended brew of the day. He used to frequent local boba chains until they suddenly gained popularity, making him resign to another type of daytime beverage. If you wanted to find Leo, you could just look at his Instagram stories to see the label of the cup or glass he was holding. He planned to use his platform to become an influencer at some point, but he decided to do one better and switched his major from biochemistry to dietetics with a minor in journalism.
"Many people talk about food, but nobody really focuses on drinks." Leo would often say. "I say they're equally as important—like, having the wrong wine paired with steak can completely ruin the taste."
For some reason, all the men you've encountered in your life had something to do with drinks or beverages. Your father worked as a senior marketing specialist in a large coffee company, then proceeded to target eateries and other foodservice establishments in his mad rampage. Your first crush was someone you met in your part-time job at a pop-up smoothie bar. Your first boyfriend saved you from a spiked drink, then proceeded to share his cup of seltzer with you. Leo was a man who wanted to write about the wonderful world of beverages—and now, you had Jake, who used to smell like energy drinks and beer. Now, he smelled like fresh fruits owing to his newfound obsession with your juicer.
No wonder he reminded me of someone, you thought, staring at Leo. A thick menu was covering half of his face at the moment, but the uncanny resemblance almost made you fall off your seat. Looks-wise, he had nothing in common with Jake; while Jake had the features of a golden retriever, Leo's sharp and glass-like eyes resembled that of a prized cat. Perhaps this was why he always smiled; it was as if the sun itself didn't exist when he didn't.
Unlike Leo, Jake didn't need a reason to smile. His lips were always curled into a wide, inviting grin.
Even if the two of you went to different schools, his friends were aware of who you were. Through the lens of his Instagram feed, the two of you were a picture-perfect student couple who complemented each other in every single way. You had a solemn, yet graceful aura, while he was always cheerful. Your dates were always documented in the form of covertly taken videos of you and polaroid pictures—which he would share online after asking for your permission.
He was always late to your dates, mainly owing to his lousy sense of direction. He'd often miss bus stops or ride the wrong route, so as a compromise, you offered to move to where he currently lived.
This day, too, you were able to catch a glimpse of Leo's phone on Google Maps, and you offered to send him to his destination.
"It looks like it's gonna rain,"
"Nah, I think it's just gonna be the usual hot weather." You replied, taking your hand out to feel the soft patters of light rain on your palm. "Tomorrow's a different story, though."
"Isn't it funny?" Leo uttered out of the blue, but with careful thought. This was one of the many aspects of Leo that reminded you of Jake—impulsive, yet pensive at the same time.
"What is?"
"We used to be so close, and now, we're talking about the weather," He said with a smile, easing all the pains your heart had gone through.
Although it wasn't the turn of events you had predicted, you were definitely grateful for having the chance to sit and chat with Leo again. After all those years of subdued greetings and busy deadlines, you were finally able to see him again, reminiscing all the memories you've made with him so far. You knew how much he tossed and turned in his sleep, remembering the time when he kicked your chin in the morning. You were always the first to witness his unruly bedhead in the morning, and you often helped him out with lathering unhealthy amounts of styling gel to keep some strands locked in place. It was a thought that occurred to you from time to time, but maybe if the two of you were still together, then you wouldn't be worried about your former department head too much. Perhaps you would just complain to him about how you accidentally mixed in your colored clothes with your whites in the laundry machine, thus tainting your work-related dress shirts in a poor rendition of a psychedelic, tie-dye design.
As always, once the two of you had started talking to each other, there seemed to be no end to your conversation. Leo had filled you in about starting his own coffee house, specializing in Vietnamese-styled brewing techniques. He then went on to ramble about how coffee takes time and effort to craft, while you listen, carefully sipping your drink. You then filled him in with the good parts of your former job, masking the fact that you got fired with stories of your accomplishments in a relatively short time.
While you were talking, Leo stared straight into his empty, ceramic mug. An upset look was on his face, which he quickly masked by flashing you his usual grin.
"I know that face, Leo." You said, heaving a sigh. Sometimes, you forget how much you've been with him.
"You know something, right?"
"Wel…. I have a friend in J&J's HR department who kinda filled me in with the brief details." Leo replied after a long, careful pause. "I've been meaning to call you about this, but I guess I just couldn't get the courage to."
"What a small world, huh?" You said bitterly, taking a huge sip of your latte.
"Anyway, I'm really sorry to hear about what happened."
"If you're worried about your reputation in the office, please don't." He continued. "Everyone was—and still is—rooting for you. They just couldn't really say anything bec—"
"Because they'll lose their jobs, right?"
"Finishing each other's sentences as always,"
In the old days, you fell in love with Leo's ability to turn bluntness into comedy. Right now, it struck you as obnoxious. You gripped your own mug tight, dragging the cold tea to your lips. Was he always this annoying?
"Oh, another thing I've heard through the grapevine," He added.
"Yeah?"
"Are you with Jake now?"
"Jesus Christ, I can never run away from you, can I?"
"I mean, if it were any other guy, I wouldn't really ask, but," He paused, swirling his cup of coffee in his hands. "This is Jake we're talking about. He's notorious on campus for being a party animal."
"We're just neighbors, Leo." You jokingly spat, masking your shock through the white, ceramic mug that covered your mouth. "Aside from seeing him in our apartment building, we don't really talk that much."
"Kyungmin saw you holding his hand at the bus stop going to Camperdown."
"I didn't know Kyungmin lived so close,"
"And it's really not a big deal, Leo. I was just accompanying him to my campus because he had a seminar to attend there," You quickly added, keeping your chin attached to the corners of the mug.
"Look, I'm sorry if I sound very defensive right now. Truth is, I just can't wrap my head around this—I mean, whenever I think I know you so well, stuff like this happens, and then, I can't understand you." Leo said, putting his drink down to stare at the window. You did the same, mimicking his stance to avoid eye contact.
"Personally, I really think it's good that you found someone like him. Sure, he's wild and all that, but you need someone to teach you how to go out more and have fun, you know?"
"Thanks."
After you dropped Leo off at the location he wanted to go to, you ended up on the other side of town. Before you knew it, you reached the familiar roads and alleyways that greeted you every time you came home. From where the two of you were, there was a good view of your apartment building through the foliage of trees it was tactfully hiding in.
"So, you live there, right?" Leo pointed. You nodded in response, hoisting your bag up to your shoulder.
"We were gonna live there together because there were many cute cafes and bars around the area,"
Leo was just the right height, but his confident, robust disposition always made you look up at him. The more you glanced at his side profile, the more you began to see yourself in Leo's shoes. What would you do in this situation if you were Leo? You would probably open a cafe on impulse—perhaps a bar? A resto-bar! Maybe you'd even start your own juice company or travel the world to write articles on beverages.
You loved how determined and goal-oriented Leo was—in a sense, you chased after it. Despite that, however, you knew you couldn't keep up with someone like him, and that was perhaps why the two of you were never meant to be together. When you were with him all the time, you grew to hate him for how he seemed to find his own wants and purpose in life.
You were always drawn to Leo's sunny, yet serious attitude—but right now, you needed to be alone. Not even Jake's enigmatic, magnetic charm could instill any form of tranquility in your heart, and you didn't even try to explain your relationship with Jake to him. Even if you did, Leo would just shrug his shoulders in confusion, giving you the same, bright, yet dumbfounded grin that he always gave you whenever he wasn't sure of things.
"Well, bye, I guess?"
"Bye."
Deep down inside your heart, you wanted to stop him by the sleeve, look him in the eye, and ask him he still felt anything for you? Did he love you like he used to? Did he find someone new?
"Cheer up, kiddo!" He exclaimed, grabbing you by the waist and twirling your around in the middle of the park one last time. Even if your laughter bounced around in the air, the sad gleam in his eyes said otherwise.
"Yes, sir."
By the time you took the elevator to your apartment's floor, it was already evening. Everything was back to its melancholic, lonely aura, and you swayed back and forth, allowing all the weight on your shoulders to push you further into the ground. You saw Jake's silhouette waiting by your door, and he jogged to you with the same, blinding grin on his face. Just like Leo, he took you in his arms, rubbing gentle circles around your disheveled hair as you keep your arms to your sides.
"So, how did it go?"
"Fine." You replied, laughing bitterly into his chest.
"I tried out the juicer for the first time on my own, by the way," He said. You buried your head further into his chest, guessing the fruit that he decided to mess with.
"Really?"
"Yeah, I have a pitcher of cranberry juice." He said, slowly pushing you in front of him to see your face. "Thought I'd make it so you'd have something to drink when you come back."
"It's fine. I'm not that thirsty."
You gave him a soft smile, taking his nimble hands off your shoulders. After giving him two pats on his cheek, you turned around, swaying back and forth to the languid motions of your body. Before you could reach your door, Jake firmly held your hand, stopping you in your tracks. Nothing came out of his mouth, but the silence was enough for you to know what he wanted to say.
"Can I go?" You muttered under your breath, taking one step forward to your apartment's door.
"Sure?" Jake replied, as if he'd snapped out of a spell. "I mean, you're probably tired from all those interviews, right?”
He immediately let go of your wrist, standing still as he watched you wobble to your apartment. It took a lot of strength within you to hold yourself back from running into his arms and crying to your heart's content. Sure, nothing was stopping you from doing so, but that was the problem—you weren't strong or ready enough to lay yourself bare to a man like Jake.
As you reached your door, you double-locked the door, slumping your spine on the hard, wooden surface. The pain had struck you with an unforgettable intensity.
Am I losing my mind? You pondered. It was probably the side effects of the medicine and sedatives you took in the emergency room, or the lingering feeling of Jake's touch. Perhaps it was Leo's sudden visit that cast a spell on you? Or, it could be the words that kept replaying inside your head. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could hear was your former department head's voice., growing louder and louder as the silence engulfed your entire apartment. Taking your bag to your chest, you curled up in your entrance with the dirty footprints and shoes aligned on your doorstep. Once you felt safe enough, you buried your head and cried.
Feeling Jake's presence behind your door, you sunk deeper into the leathery surface of your bag, remembering all that you could from the day you got fired. You weren't crying about the specific memory, but instead, you were crying for everything that went wrong in your life.
iv. following fools
Before Jake knew it, autumn came. He had been working for Professor Lewis for two months tops, along with his side gig as a teaching assistant for a kinematics and numerical analysis course. He would often check up on you by ringing your doorbell until you would peek your head in the small gap, greeting him with a weak smile. You had grown sickly, prompting Jake to use the juicer to make instant nutrition-packed smoothies for you to gulp down in one go. As expected, all of the job interviews you’ve been to rejected your application. Some said you needed to get yourself checked, and others mentioned how they didn’t want “baggage” like you to undermine the workplace. Of course, you took all of the rejections to heart, using the time alone to think about a new road you might start treading to.
By this point, you had already forgotten your race with Jake, kicking yourself out of the competition. You haven’t applied to a single job posting since your last visit to the emergency room, and you’ve spent your days idly resting inside your apartment, either listening to mellow music, drinking fruity seltzers from your cooler, or spending the entire day within the covers of your duvet.
Having Jake with you was a little nicer than being alone, but you often had to push him away so he could focus on his own career. After all, he was already turning the tides to his failures. He went from a lost, young adult, to someone who was set on going to graduate school in the States. He had briefed you on his decision, and you listlessly listened to him ramble, often finding yourself floating between the planes of existence. Most of the time, you didn’t know where you were anymore, nor did you even bother to figure it out. Being in a worn-out state of reverie had been your default, and sometimes, you would take your cooler with you in your sleep. It didn’t matter if the cooler had frozen your head off, because, in a sense, it was all the company you had.
At some point in time, you stopped letting Jake inside your apartment. Whenever he’d ring the bell, you would pretend you were asleep. You shut all your electronics off as well, barricading yourself within the confines of your room. You never frequented your balcony as much as you used to, and all you did was waddle like a fish gasping for air beneath your heaps of pillows and bedsheets. The only thing you had in your hands was your cooler—which was now empty. The ice inside had also poured out onto your bedsheets, and you rolled yourself in the freezing, tingling sensations that your nerves felt whenever your skin touched the damp fabrics of your bedsheets.
Without Jake or your busy life, your apartment felt too big—almost like a maze. There was no way around it, and you would lose yourself in the vast spaces that one felt too cramped to contain yourself.
Whenever you did try to move a few things around for a breath of fresh air, your joints would give in, and you would end up lying down on the cold, hard floorboards. The pain and discomfort didn’t matter to you anymore, since feeling such sensations in the first place were just enough.
Despite the rather reclusive and selfish way of life you’ve adopted, Jake still had the patience to visit your door after your shift. Each time, he would ring the doorbell about eight or ten times, then he would sit by your doorframe with a beer in his hand. You didn’t need a peephole to know he was there; like everything in your current, idle life, this was a part of your routine. Without opening your door, you would turn your back against where Jake was, silently communicating that you were still alive and well. Once he was either too tired or satisfied enough to know that your presence hadn’t left him yet, he would slowly get up, press his cheek on your door, and go back to his own apartment.
Time seemed to pass by slowly and swiftly at the same time. Days and nights merged into one for you, and you found yourself sleeping at random times of the day. Sometimes, you couldn’t sleep at all. Every time you tried to close your eyes for a good night’s—or day’s—rest, all you could see and hear were the echoes of your former department head. His thick, gruff voice was whispering right next to your ear, making you relive the entire scene over and over again. The sores on your cheek would flare up each time you took your palm and heard the same smack that he had done that day. Though, with the absence of the ring, you had to hit yourself harder to feel the burning, tingling tremors that activated your senses.
On days when you couldn’t sleep, you would suddenly crash for two to three days. It was a draining pattern, but your body had slowly gotten used to the poor treatment it had been receiving so far. In one moment, sleep would come crashing down on you like a tidal wave. No matter how hard you tried to resist closing your eyes, your body would surrender to the silent lullabies that wrapped you in an infinitely deep slumber—so deep that the white noise around you disappeared into an empty, dark void. You couldn’t hear the sound of your hair rustling with each move, nor could you hear the languid, heavy breathing that escaped your nostrils.
You were too used to waking up lonely, with nothing but your empty ice cooler or your fading duvet. You’d then look through the small gaps of your thick curtains, aimlessly attempting to count how much time had passed since you closed your eyes to drift off somewhere. The most bizarre thing about all of this was how you never even planned to sleep. The process of closing your eyes was a rather painful one due to all the flashing images you would see at once before your brain would shut off and reset into a blank canvas.
Sleeping the entire day made you feel as much guilt as spending each second awake, unaware of what time it was anymore. It was almost shameful in a sense, especially when you look back to how productive you were.
If I saw myself now, I would definitely punch myself in the face, tell myself to get up, and go fix my hair, makeup, and clothes to apply for another job.
You looked back at your days as a happier, livelier person. Sometimes, you longingly stared at the veranda, vividly seeing a happier, wide awake version of you wearing summer shorts and a tank top with Jake. The two of you would do what you always did with him, which was to share an ice-cold beer from your cooler while looking at the horizon from your high-rise view. At this point, you couldn’t even tell if it was recent, or if it was a distant past. The more you dwell on it, the further those memories treaded into ancient history.
One evening, you awoke to a familiar presence next to you. The darkness that filled your room had the same effect as the infinite abyss beneath your lids, and you felt around your bedroom, trembling in the half-darkness that engulfed your sanctuary. You felt the jagged, sharp corner of a leathery object and immediately tried to grasp it. Upon realizing that it was flat, you quickly stumbled out of the comforts of your duvet, blindly fumbling for the light switch. It had been so long since you’ve properly moved your joints, that standing up for a long period of time exhausted you. It was moments like these where you realized just how much the human body could survive. Sure, you were weakened to a barely functional state, but you were still able to pull yourself together and place your feet on your cold, damp floorboards.
Just as you found the light switch, a smooth, satin-like fabric grazed through your waist, circling you in a warmth that you’ve never felt for so long. Slowly turning your head around, you saw Jake in his graduation gown. It felt like it had been so long since you’d last seen his face, so it took more time for your memories to adjust and craft his face from scratch. You started from the mop of his hair, to the line that curved onto his nose, and then to the crinkles and crevices of his lips. Fragments of your time with Jake began floating back into your head one by one, and you lamented at how something so recent felt so ancient at the same time.
After tracing his face with your hands, you blinked several times, trying to figure out if the man in front of you really was Jake. To you, Jake was a man who always smelled like beer and instant noodles, having a clumsy air of youth around him. He had a permanent smile carved onto his face, and even if he didn’t know what he was going to do with his life, there was always an innate warmth that seemed to gently wash his woes away. This was a man who was fine no matter where he’d end up. He was a man who was loved by the heavens, who guided him into being the saccharine, overbearing, yet naturally kind man that he is today. In a sense, he was summer incarnate—impulsive, but carefully optimistic.
The Jake in front of you, dressed in a black graduation gown and a suit, had a different charge of energy around him. This wasn’t the unsure, lost, yet carefree Jake that you met in his veranda. The man in front of you was someone who had finally found himself an even footing in the journey called life, and he was taking one of the first of many steps that led him into a fruitful future. His lips still curved into the bright, familiar grin you’ve grown to love, but there was a maturity to it that you couldn’t put a finger around. He seemed more subdued than he usually was—which was highly evident in his much more relaxed breathing. Instead of the spontaneous bursts of energy and impulse he often subjected himself to, his inhalations and exhalations were controlled, almost as if he had finally settled himself into a direction he was satisfied with. This Jake, to you, was one that harvested all the ripe fruits of a summery youth. Now, it was time for him to shed all his outgrown leaves and start anew, letting the past die to start another spring.
You had started talking to him around the summer, when you lost your job, and he couldn’t find one. Now, it was autumn, and he had graduated with higher distinctions. You, on the other hand, have started regressing into a state of hibernation off-season, idly passing the time until the spring would miraculously come melting your ice-cold walls.
The leathery, flat piece you managed to feel was the cover of his laminated diploma. It was just as you had pictured—it has his name written in a gothic, Victorian font, and several scribbles of his university’s dean and board of administrators. The gold and red colors of his hood stood out in the dimly-lit lighting of your room, causing you to close your eyes and look down at your feet.
“Hey,” He greeted, forming your name on his lips. You can hear his soft, subtle smile through his voice. As your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness of your room, you noticed that some parts of Jake’s gown had been torn to pieces. He sheepishly attempted to hide the damage, curling the cloth beneath his fingers.
“Well, this is embarrassing,” You replied, looking out at your bedroom door. The details were something you would ask from him later, when you were better. For now, you were somewhat in a state of pure shock and awe at Jake’s willpower. Under the dim, yellow lights of your bedroom, you could now see the streaks of dried blood that shone with each move he made.
You’ve really outdone yourself, huh?
You groggily opened the door, beckoning for him to follow you to your balcony. The moonlight shone like fluorescent lights, reflecting the city skyline like the vivid, technicolor of television. You wrapped yourself in your duvet, letting the cotton mold into the shape of your body.
“Can I come over?” He asked, eyes tracing the path he took to get to your room.
“You’re already here, stalker.” You laughed.
Seeing Jake again under the moonlight made you lose all senses of reality. Now, the two of you were back to square one, and you fixed your slouched posture to mimic who you were before—a somewhat pompous, bitter, yet well-meaning woman who had too many goals and aspirations, but zero dreams.
To Jake, you were not in this world right now. Your eyes had lost their luster, turning cold and lifeless as you peered into him. Suddenly, all the time he’s spent with you seemed so far away. He didn’t know if climbing from his balcony to yours was a dream, but all he knew was that he was right where he started. It was here, in this very balcony, where he took his first, bold step into crafting a foreseeable future for himself, and it was also in your balcony where he finally saw how big of an influence you’ve had in his life. Maybe if he didn’t have the chance to meet you, he would still be lazily struggling through his internship applications, dragging a blank resume and a half-assed attempt to his thesis to his grave.
“Do you want something?” You asked, your voice a bit weaker than usual. He shook his head, taking a lukewarm can of beer out of his suit pocket. He reached into his back pocket and took another can of beer, letting its semi-cool surface rest on your cheek before he let you open the can.
Just then, he became aware of the heaviness in the balcony. It was as if he was sucked into the abyss that consumed you for weeks on end, slowly consuming him until he was lost in your infinite, dark void. He felt that if he stayed here beside you for too long, he would be completely erased from this plane of existence with your brooding, big gloom. From the corner of his eyes, he watched you steps slowly inch towards the metal railings, your legs gently kicking yourself to bend over and see the ground that was awaiting you.
“Shouldn’t you be with your friends and family?” You asked out of the blue. As your silhouette obscured the moonlight, Jake lunged forward to touch you, feeling as if you were going to disappear if he was too late. You felt transparent and cold to the touch, and he softly pulled you away from the railings of your balcony, gently guiding the crown of your head onto his chest.
“I told them I was tired,” He said, placing his head where he knew it belonged. “The graduation ceremony’s pretty long, you know?”
“What about the after-party?”
“I wouldn’t wanna go without you,”
You bitterly chuckled underneath his chest, slightly hitting him with all the strength you had left in you.
“You’re not missing much?”
Feeling Jake’s chin bob back and forth, you took his face in your palms, allowing yourself to take in all of his features. Even if your hands felt cold from the residue of the beer can and the autumn breeze, he took it as a kind of warmth that only you could exude,
“Drinking freshly squeezed juice or whatever you have in your cooler sounds more fun,”
“Weirdo.”
“So, what do you say? I can bring the juicer to your kitchen if you want,” He said.
You removed your hands from his cheeks, crossing your arms while pointing your feet on his mild injuries. He showed you his arms, which had sustained a rather large cut from dangerously climbing the brick, rocky linings of your apartment building. In the ensuing silence, he felt his chest compress tightly as he watched you take his scratched arm, softly tilting it from all angles to see just how much he had done to himself.
You had a blank stare, as if you didn’t understand what was currently happening. After heaving a deep breath, you stretched your weakened joints until there were at a movable level. Then, you eyed the spots of blood that added an abstract vibrance to the off-white, rocky material of the building you shared. In a swift, agile hop, you had jumped out of your balcony’s railings to grab onto the first pile of stone—then, you took another step, looking straight ahead to Jake’s veranda instead of the ground. Through the corner of your eyes, you felt Jake panic at the sight of your current self doing something as extreme as rock-climbing, but you tried to wave him off and reached for the next rock.
With a sudden level of determination swelling inside of you, you managed to make a rather stupendous effort to stretch your arm out to the rock above. Then, as you felt the weight of your body hang low, you pressed yourself against the wall, feeling its hard, textured surface tickle through your thin shirt. Without trembling, you found a footing you could work with, then hoisted yourself onto Jake’s veranda. Lifting half of your body to a level where you can kick yourself past the railings, your balance slipped from one rock to another, causing you to roll onto his tiled floor in all doors. You felt a shot of pain spread across your right palm, so you raised the unscathed one as a greeting. Despite the weather’s rather warm temperature, Jake saw swirls of white smoke escape the corner of your lips, and he quickly sprinted to his own apartment.
Frantically kicking his oxfords off to turn the lights on, he saw the blood gush through your palm—which you held high with a proud smile.
“Now we’re even, right?” You smirked, trying to mimic the former, fiery gaze you once had. You then made your way towards his refrigerator, pulling through all the drawers and sections until you found a pack of cranberries that were yet to be juiced.
He jogged to his kitchen, plugging the juicer and lifting its lid. He had to pinch himself several times to see if he was dreaming or not. Even if it was a dream, he was still ecstatic to see you alive and somewhat well.
Before you unwrapped the cranberries from its packaging, you rushed to Jake’s bathroom and scoured through every nook and cranny until you found rubbing alcohol and a pack of unused cotton.
“What about our celebration juice?” Jake asked, watching you slowly return to your former self as you tore through a box of band-aids.
“Your celebration juice, remember?” You replied, quickly returning to the kitchen counter.
Pressing the alcohol-soaked cotton ball into his injury, you watched the pristine, pure cotton turn into a maroon hue. Jake hissed at the sudden pain, and you patted his shoulder with the back of your hand. He then proceeded to do the same to you, and for a moment, the two of you were nursing each other back to where you should be.
After patching on the last piece of the band-aid on each other, the two of you quickly blended up a non-alcoholic, freshly-squeezed batch of cranberry juice that you enjoyed inside washed paper cups from his takeout. You took slow slips, weakly smiling as you tasted all the hidden flavors packed inside one, tiny berry. Who knew cranberry could taste this good, you thought to yourself while staring deeply into your cup.
“Aren’t you mad at me?” You started out of the blue. Jake had already finished his own cup of cranberry juice, and quickly went for a refill. When he came back, he gingerly shook his head and flashed you a big smile.
“What for?”
You slowly nodded, averting your gaze back to your slowly diminishing drink. You didn’t know if it was Jake or the juice that had a magical effect on you, but you strangely felt at ease—like the currents of the nightly breeze that gently swayed from Jake’s open veranda to his room. Nostalgia hit you, and you began to remember the details of the summer night you spent in his room. The two of you were getting drunk off strawberry daiquiris, and before you knew it, you woke up next to him with both your clothes scattered on the living room floor.
“I don’t know? Ignoring you for almost a month?”
“Two and a half weeks, plus four days.” Jake corrected, slyly raising his glass and taking another sip of the fruity beverage.
You placed your cup down on the tiled floor, watching the moon slowly hide beneath the murky, navy clouds of the night. Jake resisted the urge to take your hand into his, watching you from the corner of his eyes as you slowly adjusted into a more relaxed position. Now, you were lying down on his veranda’s floor, listlessly staring at the abyss that you were too used to seeing. Jake did the same, spreading his graduation gown’s hood for the two of you to use as a pillow.
“I don’t know why it was so hard to just, tell you about it, you know?” You started. He turned his head towards you, tracing your side profile with his hands as you continued to talk.
“It was just supposed to be one moment of my life, and I wholeheartedly expected myself to move on from it. I mean, it’s normal for your manager or boss to shout at you or lash out at some point—that kinda stuff comes as a part of a package we receive when we start working, if that makes sense.”
Jake nodded along, watching the curves of your face slowly morph into that of exhaustion. You were too tired of it all, and you were completely worn out.
“I say I can’t remember much of it, but it comes into full clarity every day. I see myself back in the conference room, after I had just finished my presentation. I see the faces of all the investors and business partners who were blown away by my work. In that scenario, I couldn’t possibly let my boss take the credit for something I spent sleepless nights trying to perfect, right?” You narrated the entire story like a comedy, raising your voice in annoyance and mockery towards the man that had scarred your employment life. However, underneath the layers of jokes and anger, Jake sensed your frightened self, one that hid beneath all those blankets to create a world of your own.
“I have all the necessary qualifications, so I thought it would be easy for me to find another job. But every interview I went through makes me see him in all the hiring managers that ask the same stupid question of facing conflicts in the workplace. No matter where I went, I saw his face and felt him slap me back and forth into failure. His words kept ringing in my ears, and even when I try to get back on my feet to try again, I remember his stupid face wishing me luck in my future endeavors or whatever.”
Turning yourself to face Jake, you held back the tears that began streaming out of your eyes. Your chest had tightened with each breath you took, and without hesitation, Jake gave you a soft kiss on your temple, letting your head rest on his chest. You gripped his dress shirt tight, as if doing so would transfer the immense pang of pain you felt on your chest.
“As cheesy as this sounds, you’ve been on my mind the whole time. I practiced lines and phrases by mumbling to myself, playing scenarios in my head where I was able to open the door and say, Jake, I have this thing I need help with. I tried to muster up the courage to call you. Whenever I felt that you were waiting by my door, or when you’d piss me off by ringing my doorbell so many goddamn times, I tried my best to just get out of bed and open the door—but somehow, I just couldn’t.”
You leaned your ear onto Jake’s chest, feeling each rise and fall. You then heard the consistently gentle beats of his heart, synchronizing with the calm rhythms of his breathing.
“Jesus, is that it?” Jake joked, making sure to check on your reaction to see if you were okay. You gave him one of your signature light hits, firmly patting his chest while stifling a burst of laughter.
“What? I didn’t want you to see me like this,” You retorted, curling into a ball and hiding yourself underneath Jake’s graduation gown. Slowly unwrapping you out of his long, dirtied gown, he held your face in his hands, watching your sadly cheerful face emit a radiant, ethereal glow. You leaned forward and closed the gap between you two, feeling the warmth of his lips flare throughout each vein in your body. You tasted the cranberry that remained on his tongue, smiling beneath the kiss as you crinkled your nose underneath his touch.
“I really needed you to make me laugh,” You whispered as you rubbed your eyes from all the tears that spilled out.
“So, does that mean I won this race?” Jake asked out of the blue, keeping his arms hooked onto your waist. You squirmed out of his grasp and raised two middle fingers at his face, hopping off to head out of the door.
“Don’t be too cocky, you Nobel Prize-winning motherfucker,”
“I suppose we’re doing a second round then, huh?”
You nodded, flexing the lack of muscle you had on your bicep. Before heading back inside your apartment, you waved goodbye, watching his smiling face through the gaps of his door. As you headed for your own door, you abruptly turned around upon hearing your name.
“If I wake up tomorrow, you better be right by your door, filling your cooler with all the canned drinks that Woolworths has to offer, yeah?” He teased, scrunching his nose into a wide grin. “I haven’t completed my transformation to become the Australian Spiderman yet, but if I feel like I’m gonna lose you again, you better expect me to rock climb my way into your house,”
“We’ve known each other for a short, somewhat long-ish time, and I wanna go to many different places with your or share whatever future work stories I might have. So take your time, and promise not to disappear on me, yeah?”
Tearing a portion of your shirt, you tied your hair into the exact same ponytail you had when you first met him. With a smile, you gave him another middle finger, heading straight to your door with no regrets.
Back in your room, you heaved an exhausted sigh, picking up the duvet you’d left on your balcony. You saw Jake take a breather from his veranda, and he tossed you a can of lime cordial. Raising your glass for the many more you’ll drink together, you said cheers and fuck it to the future, clinking glasses in the air and tasting the refreshing fruits of life.
v. on our own
It was early in the winter when Jake began to work under Professor Lewis full-time. While initially, he was doubtful about the direction he would take as an engineer, he had learned to discover the beauty of science, thus fully committing to continue his studies. In his university, Jake had been slowly climbing the ladder to success, earnestly working as the best assistant he could be. He would always stay after lunch breaks to talk with Professor Lewis on his new research proposals, and every off-topic deep dive into the future of Artificial Intelligence or scientific breakthroughs that can benefit the environment.
He had stopped working as a teaching assistant, but he would often stop by to see his previous students, quickly catching up with their lives or giving them occasional advice about the future. Whenever a young, impressionable adult shared the same doubts as he did in the distant past, he would tell stories of you, and how knowing the right person can definitely install motivation and push one in the right direction.
“Of course, it’s also important to recognize your own efforts and work for yourself, not for others,” Jake would always emphasize as his students gathered around him to talk about his step-by-step process into the field of engineering—especially at a relatively young age.
Although he had decided to pursue a master’s degree, he consulted with Professor Lewis for a potential deferral. When asked for a specific reason, he bluntly stated that he wanted to spend more time with you in Australia before he had to leave for the States. Adding to that, Professor Lewis’s research being nominated for the PM Prize’s for Science definitely held him back for a few more months to an entire year in Australia.
Despite the fact that it was a seemingly long process, Jake had slowly started to find more passion in his work, discovering the daily importance of his studies and how science can be used to help the world. While his focus was mainly on machine learning and robotics, he was open to knowing more about the sub-fields of what his discipline had to offer. One of the areas that piqued his interest was environmental engineering—something that Jake initially saw with scrutiny before he graduated from university. It wasn’t to say that he didn’t see the grave importance of environmental action. Rather, environmental science as a discipline was often seen as a joke in the STEM field, so he shied away from showing any form of intrigue or interest in the area.
Now, given his independence from the hierarchical toxicity of university, he finally began to delve deeper into his dreams to be an essential part of the R&D field. While you were the push that he needed to throw himself in a specific direction, it was Professor Lewis and his colleagues that truly added more insight and depth into the amount of work and effort that went into each journal article or independent research. Soon enough, he began helping other engineers with their own research as an assistant. When asked about whether he would conduct his own research or not, Jake would tell people like Professor Lewis that he needed a little more time to figure out his niche and start working up an interesting question to answer.
Other than his steady achievements, he had also built a steady network of amicably friendly colleagues who were more than willing to write him referrals to a company or a higher-level institution. In fact, it was thanks to his long relationship with Professor Lewis that he could get the opportunity to study at the University of San Diego, with a major focus on the field he’s particularly interested in. He had already been on a few business trips to the States, touring schools and seminars to familiarize himself with the country. For you, this meant Jake would come home with a bag full of tooth-rotting souvenirs that had too much sugar in a single piece.
It wasn’t to say that you weren’t busy either. Although some of the fintech companies you tried to apply for accepted your application, you decided to have a fresh, clean start and ended up using your high academic standing to make money as a private tutor. Whenever you had free time, you would work as a barista at a cozy, small cafe that Leo and his fiancé owned—though most of your income often comes from your private tutoring gigs. When you were lucky, you would usually get free meals that were paid in full by the family of your students, who were primarily wealthy business owners or foreign expats who settled in the country. Sometimes, you would help Leo curate new drink items that were bound to sell well, and the couple often paid extra for your financial inputs on sales tactics and logistics management. You still considered yourself unemployed, but you managed to get by just fine with the two jobs you juggled throughout the past few months.
On the weekends, you’ve decided to keep yourself as busy as Jake by working as an accountant at the Art Gallery of New South Wales. Compared to the arduous process of interviews that you had to go through, you were lucky enough to slip through via one of your former professor’s referral letters. Truth be told, you never really had an interest in art. To you, it was just something you couldn’t wrap your head around. If something looked beautiful, then it was art—and then, when it didn’t, it was still called art. You couldn’t comprehend how an intricate drawing of Napoleon riding a majestic horse could be in the same category as a canvas painted in black. One clearly took more time and effort than the other, and yet both were considered valuable to society.
It wasn’t until you had to write a report on the next Mucha exhibit that you began to grow an affinity for art. During your breaks, you would take the time to tour each exhibit for free, making an effort to read through the little blurbs that contextualize a piece of art. Although you’ve known many artists that were political in their goal of making art, you had never seen someone as dedicated as Alphonse Mucha. Even if politics weren’t something you greatly cared about, it was his perseverance and stubbornness that struck a chord in you.
You had initially known Mucha as the artist who made beautifully decorated posters of alcoholic beverages—such as his posters for Moet Chandon and Fox-Land Jamaican Rum. Mucha, who had been a victim of countless misfortunes, never gave up on his passion for creating. Even if he was too poor to go to art school, and even if his major client’s theater burned down in his early years as a struggling artist, he kept on pushing himself until an Austrian nobleman eventually discovered him. The latter offered to pay for his tuition at a critically-acclaimed art institute. Even then, misfortune seemed to follow him wherever he went—suffering through both world wars and was constantly persecuted for his Slavic background, he eventually succumbed to pneumonia, leaving a legacy of intricately decorative artworks to his name.
After reading through a collection of his masterworks in a single sitting, you then began to prioritize your gigs at the museum more so than Leo’s cafe or your job as a private tutor. Of course, managing three jobs definitely takes a toll on you, but the more you immerse yourself into the world of art history, the more your heartstrings tugged with a newfound passion that kept burning until you sacrificed some of your savings to begin your journey into art.
In the middle of the winter, you had taught yourself how to draw.
After earning more than enough by working double-time as a private tutor, you quit and devoted most of your time to the art museum. It was an exhilarating experience that managed to warm you up despite the cold weather. You bought three books about art—art history, basic techniques with all kinds of 2D media, and art theory. You went through them one by one, often keeping yourself up at night hunched over, mind suddenly filled with colors turning into vivid pictures that almost felt tangible enough to touch with your fingertips. You would read them everywhere—on your or Jake’s sofa, in the kitchen by the juicer, or in one of your balconies.
To have more space, you’ve impulsively sold almost all your furniture after a long talk with Jake. He had offered for you to live with him, potentially filling his extremely sparse apartment with some of your furniture. Since your lease hadn’t ended yet, you covered all the walls with newspaper and plastic, making sure each crevice had been targeted. Digging through your old newspaper and junk mail collection, you found a pile of Jake’s noise complaints—which you ended up plastering across the living room. Jake pitched in and decided to make half of your former abode his home office and laboratory, where he would tinker with a 3D printer he received from Professor Lewis as a graduation gift.
Most of your income would be spent on buying the right kind of paints, brushes, and tools that helped you ease into painting. Since you’ve never paid attention to any of your art classes prior, you heavily relied on the three books you bought, which grew tattered with every minute you started a new portrait.
Jake would often surprise you from behind after his work, watching you silently focus on mixing the right colors with each part of the picture. Sometimes, he would see you make detailed pencil sketches on a large canvas, and a part of his routine was to watch your hands repeat the same strokes to build an image that looked like it would leap through your canvas any time soon.
You poured all your earnings into fleshing out your skills, and you felt no remorse for how much material you had to waste to paint the perfect picture. It didn’t matter if you were angry, dejected, anxious, or happy—despite all your mood swings, you painted through them all.
Sometimes, you would situate your easel across the large, glass window that led to your balcony. Whenever Jake was free, you sat him down to paint still-life portraits of him, often snapping whenever he was too squeamish. In return, he would make handy little helpers for you, testing his tiny robots out to see if they could carry paintbrushes to you when you needed them. At one point, he made a sculpture using nothing but his 3D printer. On the one hand, you were in awe with the development of Artificial Intelligence, but on the other, you were somewhat taken aback by how uninspiring and simple everything had become. What was the point of going through the trial and errors of oil painting when a robot can do it well on the first try?
It was perhaps this sudden mismatch between you and Jake that drew you closer to each other. Jake had finally found the drive to do research, and you have found a hobby that can ease your heart into a tranquil state. A smoke alarm, a sentient arm, a portrait of Jake’s side profile, or an ink illustration of what you saw in your dreams—all of these were the products of the creative space that you and Jake had built together.
For a while, the two of you had lived in perfect harmony. By day, you went to your respective workplaces. By night you would sit by your easel and start a painting, while he would lock himself in his home office to work on editing and reading through Professor Lewis’ research or tinkering with app-controlled robots to mess around with you whenever he could. At heart, the two of you were just children living out the creative bliss of building a world of your own.
When it was late enough, Jake would usually be the first to call it a night, tapping you on the shoulder to eat dinner together and sleep. On the weekends, the two of you had tried to make a compromise and spent the day off—which was usually spent with you painting more portraits of Jake. When he asked why you chose him as your muse, you simply shrugged and kept your eyes on your brush, deepening the shadows below his neck.
No matter how romantic the scenario sounded, both of you knew deep down that it was a temporary fix. Perhaps that was why you cling to each other too much, spending each second off work with each other. Now that the two of you had found a certain path to take in life, it was just a matter of bidding farewell to move on to the next stage of your life. For Jake, he had already made it clear that he wanted to pursue his graduate studies in the States. You gave yourself more time to think about what country you wanted to go to, but your main concern was your budget. Unlike Jake, you didn’t have a scholarship or parental support to lean on. You were relatively independent your whole life, often taking part-time jobs throughout high school while doing your best to maintain your grades. It was the same outcome when you were a university student, where you sacrificed your leisure time at the expense of doing well in school and earning a stable income.
Now that you’ve managed to find a way to fuse your hobbies with a potential career, you decided to take up art history in the Czech Republic. The tuition was free for nationals and non-nationals who knew a good amount of Czech—plus, it was the home of Alphonse Mucha, so you decided that your next destination would be to relive your days as a student in Prague.
A couple of months had quickly passed by between you and Jake. Amidst the trial and errors of your portraits and his stable job working at his alma mater, the two of you grew a little distant. Sure, you’d crack the same jokes after coming home from work, feel your fingertips memorize each corner and crevice of your bodies, share a glass of juice or beer by the balcony—but all of that was to eventually vanish like a puff of smoke dancing in the sky.
It was towards the middle of August when you broke the news about moving to Prague. He had just come back from a business trip to Melbourne, and you had the acceptance letter set on the kitchen counter, right next to the juicer.
“When’s your flight?” He asked, using the rustling of his coat to hide the pain in his voice.
“Tomorrow night, actually.” You replied. “I’m living in a dorm, so they want me to be there a bit earlier.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, you’re very busy with work,”
Jake held his tongue from talking back to you. He hated it when things would escalate into a full-scale fight. Nowadays, along with the cold winds of the winter, he had fully felt the stagnant, cold air that formed between you two. Of course, the love and affection as still there, but it had become increasingly difficult to talk to each other without bringing up the sensitive topic of parting ways. Now that you were leaving, Jake took his frustrations aside and greeted you with a long, warm kiss that transparently flourished with all the complexities he was feeling.
Jake had called a day off for tomorrow, insisting that he had to take you to the airport. Fortunately, most of your art supplied had already been shipped to your dormitory, save for your sketchbook and a couple of portable watercolors you can use during your layover. For the first time in a while, the two of you were together again, reliving a distant past when your relationship was dictated by a race into employment. Taking the same bus to the farmers market, you gathered all the fruits that you could in the world, while Jake busied himself with all the ingredients to make your farewell feast. You could sense the subtle notes of pain in his eyes whenever he tried to hold your hand, as if letting go meant you would disappear from his sight forever.
Even if it didn’t seem like you reciprocated the sentiment, you, too, felt an immense pain in your chest at the thought of parting ways with Jake. The worst part about this entire ordeal is the possibility that the two of you will settle and never come back. Jake would definitely have more opportunities in the States, and you were convinced that you weren’t coming home anytime soon. Visits to each other’s countries were a rarity considering your schedules, and the vast difference in your fields also made it harder to plan a date or spend time together.
You stopped by the same cafe where Jake received a call from Professor Lewis, taking the same order and remembering as much as you could. Jake had joked about making strawberry daiquiris again, but you turned down the offer, considering the overwhelming hangover you got from that night.
As the two of you walked back home, you avoided talking about your flight or San Diego. For now, being together and spending time with just the two of you meant creating a warm, safe place where the past and the future ceased to exist. Everything was moving in the present, and time flowed in a loop that made this entire day last forever.
For Jake, however, he felt a looming premonition that evoked the same feeling as due dates and bill invoices. Ignoring it only heightened the feeling of never seeing you again.
As the night descended, the two of you combined all the fruits that you could fit into the juicer, potentially destroying it to pieces. Luckily, Jake made a few adjustments to its core before the two of you started your despicable experiment of making the best—or worst—juice in the world. It took hours to fit all the first in, and at some point, you had to take the blender and the food processor out to turn everything into a hodge-podge of slimy mush. For added flavor, you took a bottle of wine and poured half its contents inside, while Jake emptied three cans of beer and doused it all over the poor excuse of a beverage.
After a few hours, your promise of sobriety was broken, and you were extremely drunk. Right now, you were in a hypersensitive phase where a lot of things overwhelmed you to the point of shedding tears. He sat by you on the cold, tiled floor of his veranda, and you longingly gazed at the skyline, stretching your hand out as far as you could to touch the glimmering skyscrapers that blurred into phosphorescent rivers.
“Man, I’m gonna miss this place,” You muttered, slurring your words. Jake had prepared a glass of water right next to you, and he let your head land on his shoulders with a thud.
“Me too,” He replied. All of a sudden, staying in Australia or moving to San Diego didn’t make a difference anymore. He had initially wanted you to come with him to settle down and start a new life in the States, but you refused, telling him that art school was too expensive there. Even if he offered to pay for your tuition and expenses, you had firmly stood your ground, reinforcing your own so-called will in your typical fashion.
Jake had prepared for a scenario where you had stayed in Australia. Of course, he was still hellbent on pursuing his graduate studies in the States, but he was also open to the idea of staying with you and living your lives together. Sure, he had more opportunities to further his career, but there was really no point in doing all that when you weren’t there to listen to him about his thought process. In a sense, he envied how you showed your love for him.
In one fight that happened a week before, you were focused on a landscape painting of Camperdown Park, finding the right colors to replicate the tones and mood of the area. It was a sudden click of the tongue; an automatic trigger that escaped his lips.
“Why are you choosing a school so far away?”
Placing your brush down, you turned your head to look deeply into his eyes, which twitched with disbelief and pure disappointment. After watching your hands and hanging your apron to a coat rack, you leaned your body on your former kitchen counter, eyes sharp with a complexity of emotions that swirled in your irises.
“I didn’t ask you that question when you chose to go to grad school in the US.”
That was the first fight the two of you had in a long time. Although fights were, for the most part, rare between you two, those that happened tended to explode as quickly as they built up. In your case, it was how you didn’t have to be next to him all the time to prove that you loved him. Letting your voice get caught up in your throat, you didn’t hold back on all the words that stabbed his heart at once.
“I’m choosing my own path so I can return to you as a better woman—both for you and for myself!”
Looking at you know, head peacefully rested on his shoulder, he had finally learned to appreciate what you meant when you uttered those words to him.
“Think of it as a see you later instead of a farewell or a goodbye,” You’d often explain whenever Jake had the urge to bring up the complications of a long-distance relationship to you.
See you later,
In a blink of an eye, Jake was helping you weigh your luggage at the airport before check-in. He had bought you a couple of hangover pills to make sure you didn’t get airsick, and you treated him your last meal together.
Amidst the white noise of voices from all angles, all he could hear was your steady breathing in the space that you shared with him. The departure and arrival signs, flashy souvenir shops, and the rows of seats were all a blur to him, and the only thing he saw in full clarity was your nervous face. You would glance up at him from time to time, taking his hand in yours to give it a tight squeeze. Sometimes, you would rest your head on his chest, feeling the palpitations of his heart on a cellular level.
“What if I bring back a family when I see you again?” You asked out of the blue.
The two of you were now seated at one of the plane spotting areas of the airport. Tracing your fingers to patch that of the sleek, slim airplane that recently took off, you kept the corner of your eyes on Jake as he fiddled with his thumbs to find an answer.
“I honestly don’t know how I’d feel,” Jake replied after a long pause. “But, I still feel like I’ll love you the way I do now—even if you started a family somewhere.”
Nodding at his every word in satisfaction, you held back the tears that were beginning to trickle down your eyes. This could be the last time you’ll ever see Jake. Both of you were to live your new lives as adults in faraway places from here on out. Jake bit his lip in anguish, too, upon seeing the tears roll down your cheek. He took his thumb and wiped your eyes, while you took your sleeve to pat his tear ducts.
“How about me?” Jake asked, repeating the same scenario. “What if I find another girl? Sleep with other women? Won’t that be a problem for you?
“The Jake I knew wouldn’t be worried about keeping things casual,” You joked despite your cracking voice.
Checking your watch, you took your backpack and hoisted it over your shoulder, using the same sleeve to furiously dry your eyes. Jake took his arm around your shoulder, letting his nose memorize the notes of your cologne. Hand in hand, the two of you ran together until you reached the departure gate.
“I mean, in all seriousness, we’re obviously gonna need some form of release one way or another, and who am I to stop you from doing that, right? I don’t think it’s love to restrict your freedoms when I’m not physically there,”
There were already a couple of people lined up to pass the security monitors, loosening their shoelaces or removing their accessories. You started by taking off the bracelet that Jake bought for you at the farmers market, then removing the same old watch you’ve kept since high school. Stuffing both in your pocket, you beckoned for Jake to accompany you until the line was short enough for you to enter.
“Jake, listen,” You blurted, snapping your head to look at his eyes. Taking both his hands in yours, you fought back another flurry of tears with a large grin on your face, taking his hands to plant a soft, delicate kiss on both sides.
“How can I ever forget you? You’re single-handedly the most important person in my life. You’ve helped me get over a pretty big hurdle in my life, and without you, I don’t think I’d be able to be who I am right now.”
The line was getting shorter, and you swiftly pulled him down to give him one last kiss. Jake resisted the urge to lock his hands on your waist, pulling you closer at the risk of boarding late.
“Think about it this way: We’re obviously gonna meet other people in our respective countries. That’s how life is. We’ll fall in love, get our hearts broken, then rinse and repeat the cycle over and over again. All I want you to know is that despite all the people that I’ll see and meet, you’ll always be you, if that makes sense.” You said, tightly holding his cheeks on your palms.
“Like, I’m not gonna meet another Jake, because you mean too much to me.”
With two more people left on the line, you let go of Jake’s face, waving goodbye as you walked on. You began to take off your shoes on the other side of the room, putting your phone and all your variables inside a basket.
Before you could pass your body through the metal detector, your phone buzzed with an intensity that startled you. Allowing the person behind you to go first, you asked airport security if you could take this call, tiptoeing to see Jake’s face right in front of yours.
“I don’t care if you come back to me with all the accolades and prizes the world has to offer, or if you show up at my doorstep empty-handed. I won’t even care if you’ll be a mother with children or a senior citizen by then. As long as I can see you again with a proud, heartfelt smile on your face, content with what you’ve achieved so far, then that’s fine. That’s all I’ll ever want and need from you.” He said, both through the phone and to your face. After planting a quick kiss on your forehead, he tearfully gave you a heart-wrenching smile, causing all of your tears to flow down at once.
“So please, take care of yourself, yeah?”
With a nod and a wave, you placed your phone on the basket with all your things. No matter how hard you tried, you always found yourself looking back, tracing Jake’s silhouette as you passed through the metal detector.
epilogue: we just get by!
Vítejte v Praze!
It has been ten whole years since Jake had last seen you. Although the two of you would frequently call each other whenever you could, your busy schedules had prevented you from booking flights to your respective countries. Jake, in particular, had a busier schedule than you, owing to his career as a full-time research scientist specializing in machine learning at San Diego. You also kept your promise of carving out a successful career path for yourself, managing to become an art historian that traveled between Australia and Europe to either promote Aboriginal art or restore artworks that were destroyed during World War II. You also dabbled into the film industry, using your understanding of forms and shapes to create artistic, silent films that were surreal enough to confuse most of your audience. Funnily enough, your timing was always off when it comes to Jake, because by the time you'd have texted him about arriving in New York, he was already on a flight to Germany to attend a conference. Whenever you managed to catch a flight back home, you would also miss him at the airport. If Jake had arrived in Sydney, you would have already left for Europe. When you would send him photos of your old apartment building, he would reply with the hot desert sands of his new environment.
There were months—even years—when he wouldn't receive any contact from you, which often made his longing for you worse. No matter how much he tried to fill the empty, gaping void you left him, he was left unsatisfied and underwhelmed.
When he got the opportunity to go to Prague, you held off meeting him, saying that you weren't finished with your "magnum opus" yet.
"I need to be finished with this before I can see you!" You squealed on the other end of the line, failing to contain your giddy excitements. To this day, he can still remember the exact timbre and tone of your voice, wanting to share everything about this "huge" project you were working on while simultaneously keeping everything under wraps.
As such, you and Jake had made another promise to hold off from seeing each other until one or the other was genuinely proud of how far they've come. Of course, the two of you kept tabs on each of your accomplishments. When you saw Jake and his team get nominated as one of the candidates for a Nobel Prize in Physics, you took an entire video of his speech—which was inaudible due to your incessant screaming. In return, he would screenshot multiple articles where you would appear, either as a guest to an exhibit's opening night or the person being exhibited.
Sometimes, Jake would book flights to New York, admiring some of your artworks that were permanently being exhibited at MOMA or The Met. He would also watch your short films in local theaters, which he often never understood because it felt like there were no dialogue or story to follow. You didn't consider any of your projects as special, but he admired each brush stroke and lining you did, going so far as to overanalyze your works despite knowing nothing about art. You would also return the favor by forcing yourself to read through his published articles. Sure, they were incomprehensible combinations of numbers, letters, and graphs, but you nonetheless did all you could to show your support for his work.
As the years went by, the two of you had naturally started talking less. Especially in the years leading up to your late twenties, he had expected you to send him a photo of your child—perhaps even a marriage photo to show him what he missed out on with you. However, all you would do was send him a portrait of his face every year, signing it off with a ten-paged letter that gave him a small window to your life in Europe. When you turned twenty-seven, you had moved out of Prague to live in a village called Bavory, isolating yourself in a cottage with nothing but your painting supplies and poor Wi-Fi connection. You had resorted to sending Jake handwritten letters that often took months to arrive in the States, so you timed everything in advance, ensuring that your letters would arrive on the intended date.
While Jake wasn't used to the sudden shift into analog communication, he nonetheless started to return your long letters with that of his own—however, instead of writing them by hand, he bought a vintage typewriter and typed his letters back to you. There would always be a leap of joy in his heart whenever you said that you were still comfortably alone in the greeneries of a foreign village. He, too, would elaborate on how you were still the only thing on his mind, and that he was working towards furthering his career as a means to win against you in your ancient race.
To have a childish bet last for more than a decade continually showed Jake, and as he dragged his suitcase outside of the arrival gate, he checked the last handwritten letter you sent—which was two years ago. In it, you had briefed that you were finally finished with your "magnum opus," sending him an entire itinerary to follow. He smiles bitterly at the letter, watching the ink spread between the corners of the pages. Although he wasn't visiting Europe in his own free time, Jake was glad that he was able to stop by for a week—which he believed was enough to go through the itinerary you had prepared for him. In an old-fashioned style, you even drew him a detailed map of landmarks he had to pass by to get to your "magnum opus." For extra measure, Jake had crunched all the landmarks into his GPS, pinning all the destinations to his smartwatch so he would receive regular notifications on where to go.
As soon as he saw the duty-free shops that lined the entrance to the airport, there was a large, flower-wreath displayed right by a giant welcome sign written in a language he didn't speak. If you were here right now, then he definitely would've asked you to demonstrate your expertise with the Czech language, perhaps teaching him a few phrases or two to pass of as a decent tourist.
He stopped by the flower wreath, examining all the pictures of people that had fallen victim to the devastating plane crash of Qantas A380, which went missing in the North Atlantic Ocean. The first time he's seen the crash on the news, he immediately texted and called you about it. He'd spent days trying to contact you on the phone, clinging onto the hope that you miraculously made it. For the past year, it has always been his routine to take his phone and call your number despite hearing the automated voice instead of your own.
In a way where you taught Jake many things—from building his resume to pushing himself to reach further heights and gain satisfaction for his growth as a person—you also taught him how to grieve. In a sense, your death was the first one he had experienced, and to this day, he still couldn't wrap his head around it. He was still in a stunned state, where he spent a few months shutting himself inside his room. Staring into space became associated with tracing the outline of your side profile into thin air, as if you'd miraculously come back to life if he had done so.
In the second phase of his grieving period, he had surrendered to a life of work. Long gone were his so-called days of young mischief and debauchery, and he often slept within the cold cables of his lab, immersing himself in his research until everything around him started to fade away. Of course, your face lingered on in his head, and it often distracted him from his task. His colleagues had called for his temporary removal from the team, and he spent more months alone in his room. He did try to get help from the recommendations of his superiors, but all he did was fake a smile to his therapist, telling her that you were never coming back.
Some parts of him had blamed himself—what if he was more assertive? What if he had chosen to fly to the Czech Republic with you? Or, what if the two of you had communicated more, reaching a compromise to stay and settle in Australia. Such questions and scenarios often entered his headspace, giving him a picturesque future of what could've been. Would the two of you have gotten married? Started a family a twenty-seven or twenty-eight? Had your first child this year?
What happened instead was a promise that can never be fulfilled.
Then, he began to think about you. If you were to see him at his worst, when he spent days, weeks, and months doing nothing in his room, what would you have told him?
I thought you said you weren't gonna end up like me, and look at you now! Been there, done that, mate.
Even the way you died lived up to your misfortunes with the unexpected—you lost your job in the most absurdly ridiculous way, you took the biggest career turn of your life, and then, you died sinking in the middle of the ocean. What a life! He thought. Surely, if you saw him sulking in front of your picture frame, you would take endless videos of him or bully him about it.
Since the last time he'd seen you, he's met many amazing people he was proud to call his friends. He's even met many potential partners that he believes he had fallen in love with. However, every time he tried to enter a new relationship, he would always see your face, lurking in the shadows with a bright grin that cheered on him. Sometimes, he could see your silhouette under the moonlight whenever he held a woman that wasn't you. He would begin to visualize your face, often screaming your name whenever he was with someone else. He found it funny in a way—all his promiscuity and short games put to a halt by a ghost called you.
And so, despite everything, he forced himself to carry on. He knew deep down that it was what you would have wanted for him, and he was aware that moving forward was the only way for him to go.
It was currently summer in Prague, and the temperamentally warm winds wrapped Jake in tenderness as he slipped his bracelet off, hanging it right by the corner of your picture frame. To visit a place you called home without you was something he didn't think he would do soon, but he couldn't resist. After all, you did say that you were finished with your project.
Following the street lamps and rocky pavements, he ended up in front of a narrow, stone building with an oak green roof. The town around him was nothing like the empty streets of San Diego or the bustling student hub of Kensington—hell, he would even add that his hometown of Brisbane had absolutely nothing compared to the beauty that was right in front of him.
"If only you were here, right?"
He didn't know what type of architecture it was called, but he took some photos using a camera that he had bought before this trip, knowing that he was going to stop by Prague against the wishes of his colleagues. He then attempted to ring the tiny bell that was attached to the corner of the building, just as you had instructed. After fruitless attempts to find a rope, he looked up to find out that the bell itself was glued to the corner. Stifling a bout of laughter, he took another one of your ten-paged letters, skimming through the instructions you've written for him to follow.
As he went inside, he was greeted in an unfamiliar language. To his right, there were several brochures and pamphlets displayed in both Czech and English. He took the one that had your name on it, buying a ticket to follow the route of your exhibit. You had called it "14 Steps to a Better You: Self-Development and Growth in Art."
The first few pieces were once he had seen you paint in the former studio you shared. There was the painting of Kensington's skyline from your balcony, and the landscape oil painting of Camperdown Park that you had replicated into a fine, detailed image. Then, you had various pencil sketches of a man with a coffee machine, accompanied by a girl who always had her apron backward. Several action sketches seemed as though they were drawn on a whim, and Jake knelt down to read the blurbs to the pieces that caught his eye.
Then, he entered a darker room, where some of your short films had been on display. One of the films had documented your life of isolation in Bavory. It was a 35mm, still-shot of you sitting by your easel, painting whatever you saw in front of you. Sometimes, you would be seen fixing the wires to your Wi-Fi router, only to give up halfway. As he stepped closer, he took his letter out and saw that this very letter in his hands was the exact same one you were writing in the film. Once you were finished with the letter, you would go back to painting on your easel, looking out into the far open of your window.
He didn't know if you did on purpose or not, but your easel was faced away from the camera, making it impossible for the audience to see what you were painting. Considering that this was a fourteen to fifteen-hour-long self-produced documentation of your life in a rural village, some of the audience members were lucky to catch a glimpse of you switching the canvases in your easel.
After watching you sit around in your cottage, he consulted the pamphlet to check what was next. Since his eyes were too fixated on the pamphlet he held, he failed to notice that many eyes were now on him. As he looked up, he saw faces of strangers and random bystanders contort into that of shock, widening their mouths agape at the sight of him.
Compared to the last one, this room was well-lit, showing one, extremely large canvas with Jake's face depicted in various art styles and forms. Jake almost dropped his bag and whatever he held, but he managed to snap out of his daze before disturbing the peaceful quiet that engulfed the entire gallery. For a few seconds, he did his best to avoid eye contact with all the museum-goers that peered deep into his soul. Fortunately, the people in the room had begun to avert their eyes from him, going back to admiring the portraits of himself drawn by you.
Even if all of these portraits were supposed to resemble him somehow, he wasn't able to recognize the first portrait. You decided to you a smaller canvas, using harsh brush strokes to smear Jake's facial features. He wouldn't have known that this was him until he saw the details you put into drawing the neon glow of his room.
Upon checking the pamphlet, he saw that each section of the canvas was numbered from one to fourteen.
The section that was marked "one" had bright, neon colors that glowed in the dark. It was an outline of what he would have looked like in your eyes in his hay day of raves, music festivals, and nightly hangovers. Jake had tried to contain his laughter and shock, lamenting at the striking accuracy you had with interpretation. The section marked "two," which was slightly below "one," was rough, cross-hatches combined with smears of black and dark green acrylic paint. His facial features were hard to make out, but he could guess that the section represented the start of his slump—the realization that he was no longer as young as he used to be.
The ones marked "three" and "four" both had warm, sheer tones that had him drinking beer on the balcony. For "four" in particular, the beer can on his hand was replaced with a laptop and a box of orange juice. He stepped closer to examine the details of the enormous painting, praising you for having such a keen eye for the smallest things.
"Five" had a portrait of him carrying a canvas tote bag of fruits with the pearl bracelet he had just placed in the airport memorial. An intense ache began to throb throughout his chest, tightening it as he stepped back to view the painting in its entirety. He tried to control the warm, hot tears that began to roll down his cheek, and he took his sleeve to dab his cheek and eyelids until his entire face was dry.
"Six" and "seven" were him in his graduation gown. The former had his portrait phot from the yearbook replicated in a hyperrealistic style via colored pencils, and "seven" had the injury he sustained from taking the risk to climb over to your balcony. Rolling his sleeves up, he heaved a nostalgic sigh upon seeing the faded remnants of perhaps one of the biggest risks he's taken in his life.
"Eight," "nine," and "ten" were artistic renditions of him in his work. For "eight," he was in Australia, wearing a pristine white lab coat while working with wires and cables that were outlandishly drawn to create an eerie humanoid that looks like him from specific angles. "Nine" was the first photo he'd sent you when he arrived in San Diego, but with your own artistic touch to it. You had a giant version of him essentially build sandcastles that looked like androids and robotic arms. For "ten," you had drawn a rough, charcoal sketch of his speech when his team got nominated for the Nobel Prize in Physics.
"Eleven," "twelve," and "thirteen" presented alternate scenarios of who he would become in the future. All three were rather similar in nature, carrying a sci-fi aesthetic to it, but Jake held his breath and tried not to laugh at "thirteen," which showed him as one of the engineers that enabled human mass migration into Mars.
The last section, "fourteen," was right in the middle. Instead of an intricate, original piece of work, there was a square, glass mirror that had the words "you" written on top. The more Jake looked into the mirror, the more he could hear your voice right next to him, smugly introducing your piece with pride. If you had lived long enough to see the fruits of your project pay off, then you certainly would've been the victor of this little race between the two of you.
Soft sobs quickly turned into hushed, muffled laughter, and he covered his mouth with the pamphlet to control himself. He still didn't know if this was one, elaborate prank that took you almost an entire decade to finish, or if it was your own way of proving to him that you've never forgotten him throughout the decade you've spent apart. Who knows? Maybe, in some ways, you knew that your time was coming, so you wanted to leave a dramatic piece of work that showed him and the rest of the world that you had a message to convey.
To have him face-to-face with himself instead of you was a rather creative way of greeting him after ten years of absence. As Jake continued to look deeper into his own reflection, tears slipped down his face again one by one. He tried to sob quietly, while giving his eyes the time to breathe and let everything out. In the ten years of needing to see you—there you were, right in front of him. Truthfully, he was still wrought with an endless cycle of despair that twisted and turned inside his stomach, but the least he could do right now was to see you again.
There was no use in saying goodbye. Those were some of the many words you told Jake before leaving for Prague. Instead, he faced himself for the last time in the small, rectangular mirror, whispering a quiet, yet completely audible see you under his breath. As he walked out of the gallery, the summer winds turned, cold. He lovingly looked at the crumpled, tear-ridden pamphlet that was in his hands, and he mustered the courage to open it, reading the epithet below your "magnum opus,"
This piece is dedicated to the person who showed me how to grow and become comfortable in my own skin—to accept what made me who I am, and to learn to love the failures I had to go through. 14 steps are not enough to guarantee success or a fruitful future, but seeing his sheer motivation to better himself inspired me to do the same. What I want to share through these portraits is not the steps to betterment themselves;
I want to show how knowing the right person to grow with can start your own 14-step program to a better you.
an absolute masterpiece. ive read this about a billion times,, the realism and feelings and emotions and real life problems … everything was written so well . honestly this has me speechless , i love it so much and it truly changed my life and viewpoints on many things. a must read and def a fav forever <3
or, what do you mean you've never seen "blade runner"?
Early in the 21st century, THE BELIFT CORPORATION advanced robot evolution into the DILEMMA phase—a being virtually identical to a human—known as a Replicant.
The DILEMMA 7 Replicants were superior in strength and agility, and at least equal in intelligence, to the genetic engineers who created them.
Replicants were used throughout the entire Galactic Federation as slave labor, in the hazardous exploitation and colonization of other planets.
After a bloody mutiny by a DILEMMA 7 combat team in the Jupiterian colony of Amalthea, Replicants were declared illegal on earth—under penalty of death.
Special police squads—BLADE RUNNER UNITS—had orders to shoot to kill, upon detection, any trespassing replicant.
if time's elimination, then we got nothing to lose.
synopsis: Park Jongseong, also known as Agent Blue Jay, number 19-2000, former Blade Runner. After going through the disastrous events of World War V and suppressing the most violent uprising in the colony of Saturn, he had decided to retire from his life as a Blade Runner. Sick of all the violence around him, he was supposed to finally live a normal life where he can freely order ramen on a street stall without constant calls from his former boss. All was going well until you showed up next to him, holding a laser gun under the counter.
"A skin job’s on the loose again. We need you, Park."
cast: blade runner!jay x blade runner!fem!reader
launch date: april-may 2022
ACCESS GRANTED.
come on, shake and bake, do whatever it takes!
synopsis: Being born on Mars was a blessing that Nishimura Riki took for granted. He was living in one of the richest Off-earth colonies in the world, had a middle-class family that managed to give him a normal life, and he was far, far away from all the violence and wars that would constantly play on his telescreen. As he had begun to hone his hobby for spaceskating, he uses this as an opportunity to pester you every time you had your part-time job at a top-floor taqueria in one of Mars' moons. Meanwhile, you did whatever you could to turn the tides in your little prank battles with Riki—which all ended in utter failure. One day, after having enough, you decided to illegally order an outdated Replicant model that was designed to look just like you off the dark web. Surely, he couldn't see through the differences between your true self and an android, right?
cast: average space teen!niki x average space teen!reader
launch date: june 2022
ACCESS GRANTED.
some of us will never sleep again.
synopsis: Even with the vast progression of technology, inequality was still prominent in human society. The rich got richer, while the poor blundered into destitution worse than the treatment of discarded and outdated Replicants in the labor colonies. Park Sunghoon, a well-known socialite, was one key figure—hosting lavish parties in all the palaces and properties he owned. However, these gatherings had many complicated rules that had to be followed. Those who were worthy of an invitation must conceal their identities through the complementary VR Headset that came with each invite, and one must never catch a glimpse of the host—even in disguise.
With a tip from your bureau that Park Sunghoon might be a Replicant, you decided to investigate one of the parties he's holding in hopes of uncovering the truth.
cast: replicant!sunghoon x blade runner!reader
launch date: july 2022
ACCESS GRANTED.
it is love, that is the root of all evil.
synopsis: Jake had originally studied to become a bioengineer for the sole purpose of the betterment of humanity. He truly believed that the evolution of science would lead to a fruitful, abundant life of equality, happiness, and never-ending progress. Upon helping create the most recent model of Replicants, the DILEMMA 7, he had begun to open his eyes to the darker side of technological advancement. Wrought with the need for fame, greed, and money, he slowly begins to drown in the creation of androids for the sole purpose of war instead of peace, losing the very essence of what made him choose his career path in the first place.
cast: bioengineer!jake
launch date: august 2022
ACCESS GRANTED.
i'm a peace-loving decoy, ready for retaliation.
synopsis: Jungwon had intended for his life to be as mundane and normal as possible. He strived to get the best marks in his class, he put his all in his extracurriculars, and he yearned to become a student council president that everyone looked up to. Everything was supposed to go well until he had the displeasure of being in the same school with two troublemakers. The first one was Nishimura Riki—a boy who always brought his hoverboard in the hallways, zooming past lockers and doing unimpressionable flips that blocked people's way.
Then, there was you. Someone he couldn't wrap his head around no matter how hard he tried. You always snuck a laser gun in your pocket, keeping the safety on while fiddling with the trigger. Even if you never looked like you would draw the weapon on someone, he had a feeling that he needed to do something before the entire school would drown in mass hysteria.
cast: high schooler!jungwon x high schooler! reader ft. niki
launch date: september 2022
ACCESS GRANTED.
don't get lost in heaven, they got locks on the gate.
synopsis: One thing that Sunoo absolutely hated was the rather grotesque nature of his family's business. While humans who die receive a wholesome, lavish funeral to honor their journey into the afterlife, families like Sunoo's specialized in the retirement of Replicants. Sure, most of the dirty work went into the hands of Blade Runners, but herders like Sunoo had the task of retiring failed Replicants or androids that lost their purpose in human society. Even if he tried to convince himself that Replicants were mere electric sheep, he finds it impossible to retire you, a Replicant who believed you were human.
cast: herder!sunoo x replicant!fem!reader
launch date: october 2022
ACCESS GRANTED.
city's breaking down on a camel's back
synopsis: The Voight-Kampff test was a test used by the Police Force's Investigative Bureau to determine whether a suspect is a Replicant or not. This test measured psychological and emotional responses to questions that provoked its subjects, allowing people like Heeseung to measure bodily functions such as heart rate, respiration, and pupillary dilation. On average, it took about twenty to thirty cross-referenced questions to detect a Replicant. However, when Jake asked him to perform the test on you, Heeseung couldn't wrap his head around why he was tasked to do such a thing to a human. With each question and hypothetical scenario he gave you, a looming, dreadful fact had begun to take shape within the back of his head—at this stage, Replicants were more human than human.
cast: investigative agent!heeseung x replicant!reader
synopsis: If there was one thing Heeseung hated more than anything, it was growing up in a small, fishing town at the edge of Jeju Island. Sure, living in the sea seemed like an idealistic upbringing, but there was one person that made his life there insufferable—you. Growing up with you meant he had to deal with your selfish, rude, and foul-mouthed behavior while simultaneously taking care of you due to your frail body. When he finally has the chance to leave for the city, a twist of fate drags him back to the same, stuffy small town that he has to call home.
cast: heeseung x fem!reader
genre: coming of age, romance, melodrama, bildungsroman for the fancy folk, childhood frenemies (mostly enemies) trope
wc: 22k
warnings: profanity; mentions of food consumption; hospital imagery; implied sexual activity; can get existential; mentions and many discussions of death;
playlist here <33
a/n: angst hee is here! this one’s lightly based on goodbye, tsugumi by banana yoshimoto and only yesterday (yes, the ghibli movie). ALSO heavily inspired by “welcome,” an album by slaughter beach, dog. hee gives me such a small town, boy next door type of vibe so i thought this story would be fitting for him!
If there was one thing Heeseung was certain about, then it was the fact that you were an extremely unpleasant person.
After he’s finally had the chance to escape the town of his childhood and the mundane, endless cycles of fishery and tourism that sustained its economy, he was back to the place he wanted to run away from in the first place.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he thought, dragging his large suitcase to the rocky, unkept roads leading to the bus stop. The briny smell of the sea overwhelmed his nose, prompting him to hold his breath for as long as he could. Everything that reminded him about the sea made him sick—the warm sand particles that always managed to get stuck between his toenails, the shards of seashells that pricked his feet, and the never-ending cries of seagulls that always flew in the clear, blue horizon. All of the things that made the ocean a picturesque vacation spot were, to him, a suffocating reminder of his ties to his small town.
His parents named him after the Chinese characters for “acceptance”—not that he’s particularly like the word or anything. He believes he’s not, but the people in the city often describe him in that way. Calm, patient, generous, and levelheaded—all these adjectives were usually thrown in his direction whenever his friends would introduce him to a mixer or a party. In truth, he was pretty sure he was your run-of-the-mill human being, with flesh and bones to match the basic structure of everyone around him. If he thinks about it further, he’d even say that his temper is relatively short. In Seoul, he often ponders the meaning of all the adjectives his city friends throw at him. People who grew up without the inconveniences of steep slopes and threats of tidal waves often get angry about the smallest things—such as the rain, for instance. Like anything Mother Nature produces, rain is an arbitrary phenomenon that humans cannot control, yet the people of Seoul still throw a fit over forgetting their umbrella or having to bring one in the first place.
Perhaps there is something different about him, because when he loses his temper, he starts to feel the unstoppable hurricane build up in his chest, and then, he feels the anger comfortably sweep back and forth like a great wave crashing down into the shore. Ever since he moved to the city, he had always thought that his temper resulted from growing up in the countryside. Maybe it was just in his blood as a country person to remain cool-headed about trivial matters such as forgetting to charge his phone before going out or stepping on a dog’s territorial pissing.
However, he was able to experience such temperamental rage in the city. Just a few days ago, he had forgotten to buy a ticket to a concert as soon as it began selling. By the time he refreshed the page, the resale prices had quadrupled the initial prices of the general admission tickets he had longed to buy. It took all the nerves in his body to prevent himself from throwing his computer out the window, but as he glared into the sunset, it suddenly hit him—a wave of relief.
This rage was nothing compared to what you did to me.
disclaimer: all the characters depicted in my works are fictional. even if they are based on real people, these works do not reflect the featured person’s actions or personality in any way shape or form.
SERIES
JIDAIGEKI | A NIKI ANTHOLOGY
Ten historical pieces set in Japan starring Nishimura Riki. Or, read these if you need a bite-sized (kind of?) history lesson on Japan from the Heian Period all the way to the Reiwa era.
VOYAGER | AN ENHYPEN X BLADE RUNNER SERIES
Early in the 21st century, THE BELIFT CORPORATION advanced robot evolution into the DILEMMA phase—a being virtually identical to a human—known as a Replicant. The DILEMMA 7 Replicants were superior in strength and agility, and at least equal in intelligence, to the genetic engineers who created them. Replicants were used throughout the entire Galactic Federation as slave labor, in the hazardous exploitation and colonization of other planets. After a bloody mutiny by a DILEMMA 7 combat team in the Jupiterian colony of Amalthea, Replicants were declared illegal on earth—under penalty of death. Special police squads—BLADE RUNNER UNITS—had orders to shoot to kill, upon detection, any trespassing replicant. This was not called execution. It was called retirement.
THE MEMBER COLLECTION
a collection of works featuring individual members.
lee heeseung
FEEL GOOD INC. — coming soon.
PART OF THE VOYAGER SERIES.
SYNOPSIS — The Voight-Kampff test was a test used by the Police Force’s Investigative Bureau to determine whether a suspect is a Replicant or not. This test measured psychological and emotional responses to questions that provoked its subjects, allowing people like Heeseung to measure bodily functions such as heart rate, respiration, and pupillary dilation. On average, it took about twenty to thirty cross-referenced questions to detect a Replicant. However, when Jake asked him to perform the test on you, Heeseung couldn’t wrap his head around why he was tasked to do such a thing to a human. With each question and hypothetical scenario he gave you, a looming, dreadful fact had begun to take shape within the back of his head—at this stage, Replicants were more human than human.
SYNOPSIS — There was a small cafe at the edge of a residential district in Seoul that has been brewing coffee and serving delicious pastries for four decades. However, this cafe is peculiar in many ways—the shop only opens on Valentines’ Day, only one customer is allowed to enter at a time, and customers have the unique experience to spend one last Valentines’ with their dead loved ones. Heeseung, who had lost you to a car accident a year ago, decided to take his chances and enter the shop to reconcile with his grief and move on from his loss.
SYNOPSIS — If there was one thing Heeseung hated more than anything, it was growing up in a small, fishing town at the edge of Jeju Island. Sure, living in the sea seemed like an idealistic upbringing, but there was one person that made his life there insufferable—you. Growing up with you meant he had to deal with your selfish, rude, and foul-mouthed behavior while simultaneously taking care of you due to your frail body. When he finally has the chance to leave for the city, a twist of fate drags him back to the same, stuffy small town that he has to call home.
GENRE — coming of age, romance, melodrama, bildungsroman
jay park
19-2000 — coming soon.
PART OF THE VOYAGER SERIES.
SYNOPSIS — Park Jongseong, also known as Agent Blue Jay, number 19-2000, former Blade Runner. After going through the disastrous events of World War V and suppressing the most violent uprising in the colony of Saturn, he had decided to retire from his life as a Blade Runner. Sick of all the violence around him, he was supposed to finally live a normal life where he can freely order ramen on a street stall without constant calls from his former boss. All was going well until you showed up next to him, holding a laser gun under the counter. “A skinhead’s on the loose again. We need you, Park.”
GENRE — sci-fi, action, thriller
jake sim
14 STEPS TO A BETTER YOU — 40.1k
SYNOPSIS — “If you’re not in your middle ages but are already suffering through the pains of financial security, does that make it a quarter-life crisis?” Jake asked as he looked back on the last three years of his student life. He did have many unforgettable moments and sleepless nights, but the excessive consumption of beer and neon-lit raves came crashing to a halt after everyone around him decided it was time to focus on their respective career paths. Left with an empty to-do list and an uncertain future, he meets you, a person who was on the different side of the same coin.
GENRE — coming of age, slow burn, melodrama, romance, angst
HALLELUJAH, MONEY — coming soon.
PART OF THE VOYAGER SERIES.
SYNOPSIS — Jake had originally studied to become a bioengineer for the sole purpose of the betterment of humanity. He truly believed that the evolution of science would lead to a fruitful, abundant life of equality, happiness, and never-ending progress. Upon helping create the most recent model of Replicants, the DILEMMA 7, he had began to open his eyes on the darker side of technological advancement. Wrought with the need for fame, greed, and money, he slowly begins to drown in the creation of androids for the sole purpose of war instead of peace, losing the very essence of what made him choose his career path in the first place.
GENRE — sci-fi, psychological thriller, melodrama
park sunghoon
ELECTRIC DRACULA — coming soon.
PART OF THE VOYAGER SERIES.
SYNOPSIS — Even with the vast progression of technology, inequality was still prominent in human society. The rich got richer, while the poor blundered into a destitution worse than the treatment of discarded and outdated Replicants in the labor colonies. Park Sunghoon, a well-known socialite, was one key figure—hosting lavish parties in all the palaces and properties he owned. However, these gatherings had many complicated rules that had to be followed. Those who were worthy of an invitation must conceal their identities through the complementary VR Headset that came with each invite, and one must never catch a glimpse of the host—even in disguise. With a tip from your bureau that Park Sunghoon might be a Replicant, you decided to investigate one of the parties he’s holding in hopes of uncovering the truth.
SYNOPSIS — Miracle Aligner—the name itself is as mystifying as the man who bore it. Sunghoon was always aware of the magnetic attraction he exuded. Any woman would fall to their knees whenever he would grace them with his presence, no matter how hard they tried to resist. It’s not to say he looked down on the opposite sex, but his gift came with a mundanity that prevented him from experiencing the thrills he once had. Enter a woman with the exact opposite of his abilities. You were almost invisible to the human eye, and every single date you’ve subjected yourself to ended in an amalgamation of failures. From reading dating advice to religiously following magazine articles, you did it all—yet romance never came. By coincidence, you meet the so-called Miracle Aligner one night, and find yourself completely unfazed to his enchantment. He, on the other hand, is immediately intrigued.
GENRE — magical realism, romance, drama, thriller, crime, loads of sexual tension, alternate history set in y2k.
PIROUETTE — coming soon.
SYNOPSIS — Have you ever wondered how it might feel to dance with feet that weren’t your own? Sunghoon could vouch for that, because whenever he would attempt to dance his way through his short and free programs in a competition, his feet would automatically shift to a mysterious ballet’s pas de deux. Whether it was Giselle, Swan Lake, or Romeo and Juliet, his feet would begin dancing to the non-existent string ensembles of Tchaikovsky, doomed to hop with his tiptoes despite being on ice. His body and shadow would manage to contort and transform into that of a prima ballerina—as if something had possessed and bewitched his entire body. Little did he know, there was a ballerina nearby who went through the exact same thing, spinning triple salchows in the air instead of your usual jetés.
SYNOPSIS — One thing that Sunoo absolutely hated was the rather grotesque nature of his family’s business. While humans who die receive a wholesome, lavish funeral to honor their journey into the afterlife, families like Sunoo’s specialized in the retirement of Replicants. Sure, most of the dirty work went into the hands of Blade Runners, but herders like Sunoo had the task of retiring failed Replicants or androids that lost their purpose in human society. Even if he tried to convince himself that Replicants were mere electric sheep, he finds it impossible to retire you, a Replicant who believed you were human.
GENRE — sci-fi, melodrama, angst
MAGICAL BOY SUNSHINE SAVES THE DAY! (AGAIN) — 25.5k
SYNOPSIS — Whenever Seoul was in danger with the evil monsters and robot forces of Dr. Jay Why-Pee, there was always a beautiful, pink hero that would come and save the day. Meet Cure Pink Sunshine, a boy blessed by the heavens with psychokinesis and several magical powers to defeat Dr. Why-Pee’s tinkered machines and creepy critters! Beneath the glittery sparkles of his wand and his heroic acts, however, he lived the life of a normal, high school boy named Kim Sunoo. Since his hair color drastically changed the way he looked, he was sure that nobody would find out his true identity, right? R-right…?
GENRE — magical girl/boy genre, hero, action, fantasy (?), high school!au, student by day hero by afternoon trope
yang jungwon
DIRTY HARRY — coming soon.
PART OF THE VOYAGER SERIES.
SYNOPSIS — Jungwon had intended for his life to be as mundane and normal as possible. He strived to get the best marks in his class, he put his all in his extracurriculars, and he yearned to become a student council president that everyone looked up to. Everything was supposed to go well until he had the displeasures of being in the same school with two troublemakers. The first one was Nishimura Riki—a boy who always brought his hoverboard in the hallways, zooming past lockers and doing unimpressionable flips that blocked people’s way. Then, there was you. Someone he couldn’t wrap his head around no matter how hard he tried. You always snuck a laser gun in your pocket, keeping the safety on while fiddling with the trigger. Even if you never looked like you would draw the weapon on someone, he had a feeling that he needed to do something before the entire school would drown in mass hysteria.
GENRE — slice of life, sci-fi, suspense, thriller
GHOST GIRL — 33k
SYNOPSIS — It was summer in the 90s, and Jungwon was coming home from school. There was a railroad crossing between the roads back home, where a train would pass in six-minute intervals. One day, he sees an unfamiliar girl wearing his school uniform. Amidst the blue skies and the sun’s iridescent rays, your shadow remained invisible. As the train passed by, your figure was now in front of him. A gentle smile was on your face as the bright opal keychain on your shoulder bag dangled with the August breeze.
SYNOPSIS — The God of High School, an annual all-styles tournament with no limits to time and weapons used during battle comes to Seoul with a bang! Our first contestant is Yang Jungwon, a prodigy disciple of the renewal taekwondo style. While the boy looks as harmless as a sheep, he strikes with the strength and fury of a dragon, smoothly slithering around his opponents to deliver the final blow with his powerful kicks. With zero losses and a single draw, who could possibly outmatch him in a fight?
GENRE — action, sports, e2f2l
nishimura riki
A DISTANT JOURNEY — 10.2k
SYNOPSIS — Two years had passed since the March 11 Great Tohoku Earthquake. Riki, now turning seventeen, decided to embark on a solo trip to the North to visit the small port town that housed all of his summer memories with you.
SYNOPSIS — Being born on Mars was a blessing that Nishimura Riki took for granted. He was living in one of the richest Off-earth colonies in the world, had a middle-class family that managed to give him a normal life, and he was far, far away from all the violence and wars that would constantly play on his telescreen. As he had begun to hone his hobby for spaceskating, he uses this as an opportunity to pester you every time you had your part-time job at a top-floor taqueria in one of Mars’ moons. Meanwhile, you did whatever you could to turn the tides in your little prank battles with Riki—which all ended in utter failure. One day, after having enough, you decided to illegally order an outdated Replicant model that was designed to look just like you off the dark web. Surely, he couldn’t see through the differences between your true self and an android, right?
GENRE — slice of life, sci-fi
STUCK ON A PUZZLE — 51.1k
PART OF THE JIDAIGEKI ANTHOLOGY
SYNOPSIS — Riki is sixteen now, which meant a lot of things for a boy his age. While he tries to get the girl he wants, he begins to dip his feet into the waters of life as everything changes around him.
GENRE — coming of age, romance, some levels of angst, melodrama, set in the late 2000s, circa ‘08-09.
THE WARMUP COLLECTION
short, somewhat bite-sized stories (usually 1k min., always under 10k)
HEADCANONS
—enha as roomies i’ve had before
—jake as an ib student
—niki if he went to high school in japan
—overly pretentious analysis of en-’s music taste
WARMUPS
—bird of paradise; kim sunoo (4.1k)
SYNOPSIS — Bird spotting was supposed to be a fun hobby for everyone who decided they were boring enough to spend their time watching birds do absolutely nothing. You were one of those people, spending hard-earned money on fancy equipment to take beautiful shots of birds in the forest. One day, you decided to trek one of the highest mountain ranges your country had to offer, only to (obviously) find yourself lost in thick, dense fog and a high altitude. In what was supposed to be your final moments, you meet the legendary three-legged crow.
—the boy of the blue moonlight; yang jungwon (6.1k)
MAGICAL BOY SUNSHINE SAVES THE DAY! (AGAIN) bonus scene
SYNOPSIS — Several months had passed since the defeat of Dr. Jay Why-Pee at the hands of Cure Pink Sunshine and his good friends. Amidst the wreckage and the constant barrage of weaker villains, Seoul had managed to successfully build itself back up again. However, fate would have it that the earth would find itself another Galactic Cure just like Cure Pink Sunshine. A young boy nearby would also awaken his inner abilities and psychokinetic powers in a shade of blue as the newest reincarnation of Cure Blue Cool, the Emissary of Sapphire.
or, in memory of the 3.11 great tohoku earthquake.
synopsis: Two years have passed since the March 11 Great Tohoku Earthquake. Riki, now turning seventeen, decided to embark on a solo trip to the North of Japan to visit the small port town that housed all of his summer memories with you.
warnings: mentions of the earthquake and the disaster that occured; mentions of food; can get rather depressing; discussions and mentions of death; grief and recovery; underaged smoking
a/n: this work is in honor of the great tohoku earthquakes of march 11. inspired by landscape with flatiron by haruki murakami, and the home to which i cannot return by kazumi saeki i sound like a broken record but i can't stress this enough: you are responsible for the content that you consume. if you are currently going through moments of distress/are neurotic, then i highly suggest you skip over this fic.
The bus stopped at a decrepit sign that read Kami-Shishiori Ekimae. Riki promptly hopped off the slight inclination of the bus's exit, giving the driver a quick bow before allowing his eyes to settle on the rubble that was in front of him. He had departed from Okayama on the first bullet train to Tokyo, using up all his part-time earnings from his gigs as a backup dancer to pay for the expensive fair. Although upwards of almost three-thousand yen may seem like nothing to the average businessman or nine-to-five worker, the tickets to the train and bus alone comprised nearly half of his yearly earnings combined with the pocket money he received and saved up during the New Years. Now, the marmalade sunset settled into the horizon, bathing the entire town of Miyako in a dim, orange glow. The distant cries of seagulls penetrated his ears in a ringing frenzy—after all, he had spent the entire ride from home to Miyako in silence. No music from his MP3 player, no phone calls from his family, and no distractions from the handheld gaming consoles he'd left in his room. The only thing on his mind was to arrive right on time—precisely before the sun began to set, plunging its spherical body into the serene currents of the calm sea.
Riki allowed himself to check the compact, plastic flip phone that his mother had lent him for the sake of this trip. Skimming through several frantic messages from his mother and sister, he found the landline number to your family home. Even if ringing it was futile, he decided to click the call button and placed the cool plastic right by his ear, letting the mechanical ringing tune out the seagulls and the accumulating breeze. As expected, the dial tone was cut short with the robotic voice of a female operator. Heaving a sigh, he checked the time and hovered his eyes over the skies above him, watching its marmalade hues slowly blend into a shade of deep violet. For some reason, the sun sets a lot faster near the sea than it did back in the city.
After snapping a quick photo to send to his mother, he chucked the phone back into his pocket, hoisting his messenger bag up to follow the main path that led to the port's entrance. Had it not been for the disaster, he would be begging his entire family for his very own cellphone.
"Everyone in school has it—hell, even Konon-nee-chan got her first phone at fifteen! Fifteen! I'm sixteen now! Shouldn't I be getting my own phone?" Riki could hear himself lament in another timeline, throwing a fit in the kitchen as his father rolled his eyes while stuffing his mouth with miso soup.
Now, he couldn't care less about a phone. There was no point in getting one when the phone lines in the affected areas were still as shaky as ever. Riki has seen his mother ring your family home three to four times in one sitting, only to receive nothing but static or an automated operator in return.
And so, he decided to wait. He'll ask for a phone once your city has figured out what to do with all the washed-up telephone stations and broken electricity poles.
Two years of sitting idly by the television, watching rescue operations and firefighters dig through large debris and chunks of dilapidated houses did not help him process the reality of the ruins right in front of him. Allowing the aroma of brine, rotting fish, and rusting steel to reach his nose, he nervously made a step forward to the small, port town that he used to spend the eternity of his childhood summers in.
Prior to the earthquake, he had often visited the city of Miyako to visit your family, who held a significant share of Iwate's local fishing ports. Back then, he was too young to understand the intricacies of adult friendships, so he mostly took the long bullet train rides from Okayama to Iwate with childlike boredom and a moody bout of indifference. How could his mother continue to befriend a person that was all the way up North, and why make an effort to keep promises that were built long, long ago when his mother didn't have the responsibilities of managing a dance studio and raising three children? For young Riki back then, all he could do was grumble on about how he wanted to grow up fast to start staying home alone while his parents made an effort to plan and go on such a time-consuming trip.
"One day, you'll understand, Riki-kun, that some friendships are truly eternal." His mother would often lament with an achingly sweet nostalgia as she tended to her son's selfish tantrums.
Now that Riki was older—sixteen going on seventeen—he'd say that he can vaguely understand his mother's friendship with your family. While he tuned out most of the listless conversations as background noises that were exclusive to adults like his parents in the room, he tried to remember the tiny fragments and stories that illustrated a lucrative timeline of his mother's history with your family. From what he could recall, his mother met yours in their first year of university back in the late seventies. Both of them were fresh off the boat from their own respective small towns, entering the big metropolis of Osaka for the first time. The two of them immediately shared a close bond together through their shared status as two lost sheep in the howling canines of the city's pack. Since then, the two women have grown into responsible parents with their own respective versions of a picturesque family. While the Nishimuras had grown into a promising performance-based lineage of jazz ballet, hip-hop, and contemporary dance, your mother married into a fishing economy that is perhaps arguably older than the origins of Japan itself.
Riki still remembers the narrow, extensive dirt path and rocky roads that lead into your side of town. While back then, he had the pleasures of being in the comforts of a rental car and his father's steady hand on the wheel, he now had to cross through large cracks and craters that were big enough to sink him into the bedrock layers of the earth. Using the agility that he had harnessed through sheer practice and dedication, he gracefully jumped across each crack on the ground with the lightness of a bird, while examining the ruins of a once peaceful, quiet neighborhood. Houses that used to line the roads were now mere stacks of wood, steel, and cement. The port that overlooked the vast, blue seas and mountain ranges were decorated with flipped boats and cars that were slipped in half, along with piles of steel and lumber that formed tiny, organized pyramids of catastrophe.
The roads had been cleared out by the countless search and rescue operations that dug through all the clutter in the surrounding areas, making way for droves of relief vans, fire trucks, and ambulances to survey the area. Riki wasn't used to the blaring sirens that zoomed past him in a blurry haze, but in his current state of mind, he was engulfed in a tunnel of silence led by your younger, brimming voice.
"It's not that far, you know?" You'd often say when you were younger as you led the Nishimuras down from the nearest parking lot to the residential areas near the fisheries and ports. Back then, he had the company of his entire family and your petite figure in a white dress to navigate through the unfamiliar mazes of the North. Where he was from, the city was landlocked between riverbeds, lush greeneries of zen gardens, and historical sites that mirrored the ancient, cultural hub of the Heian period. On the other hand, the town of Miyako was right beside the high seas, facing the coastal areas that gave life to your otherwise idle, unchanging settlement.
As Riki looked over the rocky, inland coastlines that crashed with the pristine bubbles of white waves, his eyes were focused on a group of children that ran around amidst the destruction that surrounded them. In their hands were a typical fishing set that reminded him of his summers in the same shores, watching you reel in several sea critters while he kept his hands occupied within the plastic comforts of a digital world. His gaze fell on the giant bucket that four, tiny hands had hoisted up together, while one of the children lagged behind with the burden of carrying a handful of fishing rods. Sand lance, kelp wakame, and pollock—the more he tried to squint his eyes on the overflowing, metal bucket that was brimming with dead life, the more he thought of how strong you were for being able to carry a large net of king salmons with your father during the scorching hot summer days of July.
"PSP? What's that?" You asked, attaching a writhing earthworm on your fishing hook. Riki had always brought his PSP wherever he went whenever he visited your family, eyes constantly glued to the current game that occupied his tiny, nimble fingers. He was never a big fan of RPGs, but if he wanted to catch up with his friends from school, he needed to play through the most recent installment of Final Fantasy.
"It's something you play games with," He listlessly replied, using the corner of his eyes to watch your tiny body hoist your fishing rod into the deep depths of the ocean. While he continued to sit on one of the shingles of the beach, he always managed to sneak a few glances to you, anticipating your following catch.
Riki enjoyed fishing, but never with you. It wasn't to say that he didn't like you, but rather, his childish self couldn't fathom the idea of being worse at fishing than a little girl. To his eight-year-old self, fishing had always been associated with men, and to be bested by a girl—let alone a child his age—didn't sit well with him.
"Ah, my papa doesn't allow me to buy those. He says it's bad for my eyes." You replied, raising your voice to make sure he heard you. Keeping your body aligned to face the sea, you continued to whistle a familiar tune he's heard from your family's run-down radio, patiently tapping your feet to whatever rhythm was in your head. At the same time, the reel had quickly begun to spin in rapid succession.
There was a crystalline quality to your high-pitched timbre that tapped each syllable to your words with full clarity, and your voice was never too loud. It was always just the right tone for Riki to resume his game in sheer concentration while being aware of his surroundings.
That was one habit of yours that Riki always remembered. For as young as you were then, you always carried an air of consideration. It was present when you would automatically rush to the kitchen to make tea for his family, and it was even more potent whenever he was alone with you on the shoreline. Each uninterested shrug and click of a tongue was always met with a slight bow of the head from you as you shuffled your feet to keep a certain distance, waiting from afar until he would eventually give in and grumble about how annoying you were to your face.
Now, he can see it in the running children that were running ahead into the endless stretches of sand that lined the port, leaving the poor boy alone with the task of carrying the leftover items and equipment. Instead of seeing him complain, Riki was able to catch a glimpse of the boy's lips curl upward, momentarily stopping in his tracks as he watched his friends excitedly hoist the bucket with their combined strength. He had the exact same mannerisms that you did at around the same age, where you would simply stop and stare for a brief moment. Riki used to find it rather annoying, but over time, he's grown to admire your small bursts of silence.
"Why are you staring at people like that? It's gross, you know?" Riki often spat. Instead of mustering a reply, you would simply nod in his direction, tilting your head to the sea or the adults that were talking by the dinner table. Sometimes, your gaze fell on nothing—perhaps a blank space between the picture frames beside the television or the small gaps between the bookshelves that lined your entire living room. It would usually take him a few harsh insults or two until you would slowly, but ever so surely, tilt your head back in his direction, widening your eyes with a soft, gentle smile.
The same smile was etched on the boy's face, glimmering with the apples of his cheeks that shimmered in the spring sun. Then, the boy had bent down to pick up the metal toolbox that he had briefly placed within the safety of the sands, hoisting the entire weight of his equipment between his tiny shoulders. Riki tried to hold his tongue in place, stopping along with the boy to have a better view of what was going on. Sure, the little boy may seem like a pushover, but the bucket was not a size that even four children can carry with ease. Rather than a typical pail the size of a paint can, the thing resembled something akin to a drum that housed oil or other dangerous goods.
At this rate, it would be too soon until one of the children eventually loses balance from the weight of the bucket, causing the rest and their bountiful catch to fall into the beds of ochre sand. Before Riki could jump over the chipped, cement walls that lined the border between the seas and the main road, a teenage girl had suddenly rushed to the group of children that were making their way back home from their fishing trip, scolding the rest while helping the boy carry the array of heavy, smaller fishing rods and the presumably empty tin box that once housed live bait.
"Riki?" A familiar, yet distantly foreign voice had entered his ears. The only way he was able to recognize its owner was how the mention of his name had suddenly transported him back to a Miyako without the destruction and debris of the earthquake and tsunami. With one blink of an eye, all the clutter that he had grown used to seeing in the news had vanished into thin air, restoring everything into one, solid piece. The flipped boats that he passed by on the way to the port were now smoothly sailing above the currents of the sea, and the collapsed buildings had reverted to its pristine, off-white, and creme finish of fancy inns and local, gourmet restaurants. With your presence alone, the wreckage that surrounded him seemed to hold an indescribable beauty that made all of the ruins dissipate into the same, little town that he used to resent.
Ah, I really should've visited more often when I had the chance, Riki thought. With the difficulty of planning trips in an increasingly stagnant economy that favored white-collar jobs over his parents' passion in performative arts, his mother had cut down the long drives and train rides to Iwate. By the time he had reached the sixth grade, Riki had also busied himself with the junior high entrance exams—which made his summers filled with revision periods and cram school classes that ended in the violet dusks of picturesque sunsets overlooking his city's horizon. Though, he didn't care too much about sceneries either since his entire schedule was packed with dance practices that ended until he was too tired to think about you, his lack of a summer vacation, or the scores he'd have to achieve in order to enter a decent school that would make his parents proud.
As for you, he'd often receive short updates from his mother's rather long phone calls with your family about how you've been doing. Rather than keeping yourself busy with academic rigor, you continued to help your father and grandfather in the fisheries.
"She's caught more fish than Keisuke-jiichan. Isn't that amazing?!" His mother once exclaimed with joy while keeping her flip phone between her shoulder and her cheek. All that Riki could do then was respond with a curt nod and headed straight to his bedroom without removing his sweat-drenched practice clothes.
Before Riki could rush to the shoreline, he was met with a pair of glassy pupils that were now right in front of him. The scent of brine, sand, and fishes entered his nose in a barrage of nostalgia that flashed vivid, fragmented images of his childhood—the countless walks to the sea he would forcefully accompany you within the marmalade skies of the first sun, the heavy weight of metal buckets and even larger nets that reeked of live, flopping fish that he would carry with you from the boat to your home, and the endless hours of hide-and-seek he'd submit to whenever his mother had decided to confiscate his gaming consoles and his Weekly Shonen Jump magazines.
It was you, alright. A little bit taller, older, and wiser, but it was still the same old you from his summers as a child. Somehow, the white dress that he's always seen you in managed to fit your taller physique, with intricately handwoven laces trailing just above your knees. There was a rustic badge that was pinned right next to your chest, between the thin straps that held your entire dress together.
He couldn't pinpoint something so abstract, but there was certainly a slight difference in the way you carried yourself. He could chalk it up to the effects of puberty and four years of not seeing you, but there was something within him that realized it was something else. It wasn't the sudden distance he felt with his older sister when she got her first period, nor was it the realization that you were blossoming into a fine, young woman. There was a more mellow, passive, and somber charge around you that was covertly wrapped under the bright smile you wore around the children.
"How are you?" You asked, voice still as clear as ever. He noticed that your voice had dropped a pitch lower, carrying with an air of maturity that he's seen in his sister when she turned sixteen. The thick, Tōhoku accent that characterized your rural status seemed to disappear, blending into the standard Japanese dialect that many children were taught to speak. Though, as he repeated your voice in his head, he still managed to pick up a few tonal shifts and awkward phrasings that managed to bring you back into your childhood self. He tried to utter a reply, but his throat felt the lumps of adolescence acting as a cork that kept his vocal cords shut. All he could do in your glowing presence was slightly bow his head and fix the large messenger bag that adorned his right shoulder, keeping his gaze glued to the fishing rods you held between your arms.
"I'm assuming that you're doing good?" You asked again, giving him the same, bright smile that you always did whenever he would coldly tell you to leave him alone. That was another thing about you that he couldn't seem to forget. No matter how blunt or harsh he'd get, you would always leave him to his own accord with a small, gentle smile, running off to your grandparents, parents, or his sisters to talk or eat the snacks his family brought from home.
"Yeah, I guess. Yeah." He slowly replied. The group of children was now huddled behind you, peeking their heads at the tall, young boy that stood on the other side of the broken, cement walls of the shoreline. He curled his lips into a small grin when he faced them, kneeling down at their level to closely examine the bucket that housed their most recent catch. To his surprise, they were able to reel in a few bonitos and mahi-mahi—both of which could only be seen in the deeper areas of the coast. The last time he had caught a bonito was during his last visit to your hometown when he was ten. The two of you had to ride a small, motor-powered boat with your father and grandfather, and instead of a mere fishing rod, your father had instead pulled out a large amalgamation of nets that he hurled into the sea.
"Since the tsunami hit, some of the folks out here were lucky enough to catch salmons and large tunas right around the area!" You exclaimed gleefully, widening your grin as Riki continued to pick apart the children's catch with his eyes. "Though, because a lot of them reached the mainland, we weren't able to salvage them all—which kinda explains the rotting smell around here."
Perhaps the most endearing thing he managed to remember about you was how you always managed to keep your chin up no matter what came in your way. His earliest memory of you that continued to haunt him to this day was when you were six. Instead of reeling in a fish or two, you were instead met with the harrowing pulls of a large, tuna fish that your young body was too small to handle. Despite the resistance, you continued to pull at the rod, keeping your feet glued to the wooden floorboards of your father's boat as your eyes widened with the radiance of the spherical, summer sun. Instead of stopping you, your father stood behind you in silence, suppressing a widening grin as he watched you struggle with the rod.
"Aren't you gonna help her out?" A young Riki asked. Although he kept his indifference and boredom on the surface, he had suddenly placed his copy of Weekly Shonen Jump to his side, engaging in a childlike dilemma of saving you from your eventual fall or witnessing your first, big catch as the proud daughter of a fisherman. In response, your father mustered a small, monotonous hum, slowly nodding his head in place. The tuna's head was peeking out of the ripples of the blue sea, gasping for air as it flailed back and forth between your hook.
One more pull was all it took, but even Riki back then knew that it was too much for you. Instead of reeling the large, tuna fish into the boat, your flimsy grip had loosened, dropping the entire fishing rod with the giant fish back into the ocean.
Despite his five-year-old arrogance, he was more than ready to console you for your loss. He had even practiced a few lines in his head, repeating them in low whispers as his jaded footsteps rushed in your direction. However, instead of meeting your tear-filled eyes or a burst of demonic anger, all he saw was a calm, serene smile.
"It's okay, papa. He'll come again next time!" You softly retorted, turning your lids into crescent moons as your father picked you up and carried you into the air. "And when he comes back, I'll make sure to help obaachan make the best maguro-don that Miyako-shi has to offer!"
Maybe it was the clear difference between a city boy like him and a country girl like you. After all, the people of Miyako were never seen without a radiant grin on their faces. For as long as he could remember, his visits to your hometown had always been surrounded by the blinding light that characterized every humble, small town. Things such as video games, television, and the internet weren't necessary when the entirety of the high seas was your playground. After all, why stay inside when the bright, blue waves of the ocean shimmered with desire, pulling everyone into its waters for a quick sail around the borders, a surf or two, or even a thrilling swim that washed over all the trivial woes consuming humans in their robotic, daily routine of a future that leads nowhere. While the people in the city continued to live under the false promises of a better life with hard work, the folks of the sea never worried about the future. To them, everything was always in the present—how many fishes can they catch to feed their families for the week, what time did children have to wake up to engage in a daily thirty-minute bicycle ride to schools in the mountains, and anticipating when the rain would fall to prepare for a power outage.
"Where's your family?" You asked, tucking the empty toolbox to the other side of your waist. Giving the group of children a curt nod, they propped the giant bucket of fish and seaweed on top of a flat chunk of cement, hopping through the high, broken wall one by one. With a quick bow and a wave, they began running back to the dirt path that Riki had come from, turning their tiny heads back to the two of you as each, glassy beads of curious eyes remained on Riki's taller figure. He gave them a smile, watching their bodies disappear into the ruins and clutter that surrounded the entire port—and then, they were gone.
These days, it would often take Riki a few moments before he could ground himself into reality—which was the sole reason he begged his parents to visit the town of Miyako. With every single day passing by of fleeing news articles and weather reports, there was a part of him that couldn't accept that the disaster was real.
This was all one big dream, and eventually, we'll all wake up to see another day, he often whispered in the initial months of the earthquake. Sometimes, it would take a cold shower to wake him up. In more extreme cases, he had to exhaust himself in the form of academic rigor, endless practice at the dance studio, or playing soccer until dusk to allow his mind and body to process everything.
He can understand his mother's reluctance towards visiting your town in the aftermath of the disaster—after all, she, too, was going through a more severe rendition of what he had been feeling.
Riki knew the extent of the damage that your house had undertaken a little later, once the phone lines had momentarily been repaired. His mother had spent all of 2011 glued to the living room's couch, staring blankly at the endless flashes of tsunami waves, submerged houses, and live footage of earthquakes that caused entire skyscrapers, two-story houses, and leisure establishments to collapse into dust. Wrapped in a thick, layered futon, it became an hourly routine for her to flip through the same four news channels that constantly gave live updates to the death tolls, rescue operations, and missing person reports.
She would only leave the house to pick up the morning paper, mechanically scanning her eyes over the earthquake reports. In a given day, she would repetitively read through the paper, watching each, harrowing statistic rise, diminishing the bodies of the dead into a simple number. The main affected areas still had no access to water or electricity, and most of the food came from volunteers that drove all the way up north to deliver various goods. Many people—including your family—had lost their homes to the disaster, living in the cramped camps of run-down gymnasiums and decrepit city halls. Each news report on both the television screen and the newspaper had briefed a new tragedy every day, but the only thing both you and your mother could think of was the well-being of your family.
She had left her duties as the manager to their family dance studio to his father, keeping herself occupied with whatever she saw in the technicolor flashes of the television screen. This would go on until Riki had to wake up to go to school—and sometimes, he could hear the racing thoughts within her head that repeated the same prayer that she softly mumbled to herself.
Please, please, please let them be okay. Please. God. Please.
When the initial news about an earthquake hitting the Tōhoku region graced his television screen during one, fine morning, Riki had to blink several times and turn the volume up to digest the disaster in full clarity. Especially given his absence to your town in the last few summers of his days as an elementary schooler, he had never expected to witness a natural disaster that had anything to do with him in any way. When Riki learned of the Kobe earthquakes of 1995 and the Tokyo subway sarin gas attacks, he didn't think much of it for the simple fact that he wasn't born when those two separate incidents occurred. Sure, he's heard of stories from his grandparents about the gravity and toll that the earthquake of 1995 had on Kobe, but he didn't have any family there to care about the disaster. To him, it was just an event in history that illustrated mother nature's wrath—something to skim over and memorize in textbooks for a geography or history test.
To be alive and well while a devastating catastrophe unfolded in the background of his last day as a middle schooler added a looming uncertainty with how he treaded towards life. Even if his visits to your house all the way up in Iwate lessened throughout the years, there was always a reassurance at the back of his head that you would still be there, fishing with your aging father and living the same, idle life of skipping stones in the shoreline or creating delicious maguro-dons filled with your latest, freshest catch. To him, there was a permanent quality to the town of Miyako; no matter how old he'd get, or how long he'd take to visit you again, he always envisioned the wooden finish of your house or the same, decrepit boat you brought to the sea to remain the same.
It only took a day or two for an unprecedented earthquake to grind sturdy buildings into dust, and even less for a massive tsunami to submerge the entire city of Miyako into the dark, bottomless abyss of the ocean. The same thing could happen tomorrow, or perhaps right now, back home. There could be an earthquake, a burning meteorite falling down into the roof of his house, or a zombie outbreak for all he knew.
Nothing was ever going to stay the same—and in retrospect, that was the only thing constant about life.
"I… uh… kind of came here alone." Riki finally replied, keeping his gaze at the empty spaces between the chunks of splintered lumber and cement that the children had run past. He promptly kneeled down and rolled his sleeves to pick up the large bucket of fishes that had been perched on the flat surface of broken cement. To his surprise, it was definitively heavier than he thought it would be.
"Eh?! No way?! Don't you have school?" You asked, tilting your head in the direction that led to your house. While struggling to keep his balance, he hoisted the pile of dead fish up to his chest, holding his breath for as long as he could to prevent the pungent order from entering his nose. It has been a while since he's been greeted with the dull, lifeless, large eyes of fishes up close. His mother had stopped buying fish at the supermarket ever since the earthquake and the tsunami. He didn't question her decision, but he seemingly understood her the moment he laid his eyes on the infinite, wide orbs that resembled the rusted glass beads that he used to collect with you.
"Well… it's a Saturday today."
"Ah, but isn't it impossible to come back the same day you came?"
There was one, single dirt path that led straight into your neighborhood. Usually, there were several intersections and train tracks that decorated every block of two-story, wooden houses that lined a telephone pole or two. As he had expected, the clutter around the two of you continued to pile up—with a cluster of furniture split in half, rooms whose walls had collapsed, and mattresses adrift giving him a surreal version of your old neighborhood. Perhaps in another timeline, people slept in dilapidated mattresses that had all the springs up, located in bedrooms that were exposed for all the world to see. It was somewhat fascinating for him to find that amidst the messy wreckage, he could still piece together all the interiors of the broken homes into one, fine puzzle. The flipped shelf of junior high textbooks and worksheets, wet, scattered manga volumes splayed across the piles of splintered wood, and old movie posters Riki had just passed by gave him a picture of a boy that was about two to three years older than him. Two years ago, the owner of the now damaged room would have been about his age, living the life of an electric adolescent.
"Your New Year's Card said you finally got the house rebuilt, so I kinda came to check it out," Riki spoke out of the blue, keeping his eyes on the various houses of shattered glass windows and open doors that led nowhere. "Also, you haven't been on the phone whenever mama would call, so I wanted to see if you were okay."
"Ah, I see…." You replied, looking straight into the cleared-out dirt path that led into the main fisheries. "Well… it's definitely not what it used to be, but we're in the process of rebuilding everything—not just the family house, but also the entire city."
Instead of walking straight, you made a right turn into another area of the neighborhood. There was an old man waiting by a rickety chair, holding his cane between his fingers as he aimlessly watched whatever was in front of him. The same group of children was now drawing several cartoon characters on the cracks of the road, using a piece of wet chalk that they probably found in the heaps of ruins.
"Kanazawa-san," You called. Propping his cane up from his seat, he slowly stood up and greeted you with a formal, slow bow. You returned with an equally cordial act of filial piety, dropping the toolbox and the fishing rods by the wayward drawer. In what Riki assumed was a former dining table and kitchen area, all that was left were the busting, black chars of an erupted stovetop, some cupboards that piled on top of each other, and an array of broken tableware that was surrounding the place where he sat.
"Did the children catch anything edible?" He joked, heaving a disarray of laughter as his eyes skimmed through the contents of the bucket. Raising his glasses and securing them up to his nose, the old man gently took the toolbox on his lap. He then took a large tupperware container and began filling it with half of the catch, before gently kicking the bucket back in your direction. After exchanging another round of pleasantries and introducing him to Riki, the two of you bade the sweet, old man farewell and continued your journey back to your house.
"As for the phone… well… I don't really feel like talking a lot lately—even if I am right now." You replied, tracing your conversation back to where the two of you left off. Riki solemnly nodded his head, keeping his eyes on the dirt path ahead of him. From where the two of you stood, the full picture of the earthquake came to light. Riki tried to trace the former outline of the neighborhood and the little town, noticing that each pile of rubble matched up to the height of the horizon that once overlooked the entire area. As the two of you continued to tread onward, the cracked roads akin to volcanic eruptions started to lace around the streets in patterns of jagged dots. You took the other handle of the bucket and hopped over one of the cracks in a twisted game of hopscotch.
"I heard from mama that your family relocated to Sapporo for the time being," Riki said after another round of silence. The metal bucket of fishes was now in the safety of your hands, staining your white dress with splotches of faded blood as you hoisted it over your arms.
"Yeah! We were lucky enough to evacuate on time, but ojiichan decided to stay." You replied, keeping your eyes straight into his line of sight. "Something about his time coming up and wanting to be with the town he grew up in 'til the very end."
"Ah, sorry if it got a bit too dark?"
"It's fine. My condolences."
The two of you had finally arrived at the large cement walls that lined your family foyer. Despite the news of a renovation, he was surprised to see that everything in your house was replicated to perfection. Nothing about your newly rebuilt house felt new or foreign—it was just as he had pictured it in his daydreams on the way to your town. The garage that once housed your family boat and your father's aging, black car were absent from the entrance, but the beds of grass that led straight into the main entrance were just as it was since his last visit four years ago. The tall, mahogany trees that used to line your entire backyard had been uprooted due to the tsunami's impact, but given the sheer accuracy of replicating your old home, he was able to see its outline and foliage with a few, repetitive blinks.
Your family's backyard was a lot smaller than the rest of the neighborhood's, but it housed perhaps the most important collection of trees within its fences. From the day your grandfather was born, your family had kept a tradition of planting a birth tree that aged with the newest addition into your bloodline.
"When I was born, my ojiichan picked out a magnolia tree to plant in our backyard." You once said when you were little while watching him break off one of its smaller branches. "He said he wants me to be the kind of person that will never give up, just like this tree."
As he had expected, the magnolia tree that was planted during your birth had been uprooted along with all the other birth trees and various flowers that once filled your garden. All that was left were the gaping, empty holes that had been dug out. He didn't bother asking you if the various holes in your garden were to be planted again, because the way you stepped right into them made it clear that your former garden was one of the few relics of the past to never make a fruitful return again.
"Luckily, we were able to find his body, so we gave him a proper burial and whatnot, but things haven't really been the same for us since jiichan died." You continued, giving him a soft grin. Instead of going inside the house, you told him to come with you to the garage. While the house itself was fully reconstructed, the entirety of the interior was still lined with plastic and wads of newspaper. Allowing himself to press his forehead against one of the fine, glass windows, he realized that the insides still needed a few touches from the foreman and his team. There was practically no furniture inside, and every corner of the living room was walled off with more layers of newspaper scraps and plastic lining. The only thing that he saw was the silhouette of a circular, dining table that was also wrapped in several layers of newspaper and plastic.
You took a small, iron plate from one of the many cardboard boxes that lined your garage—the same one your grandfather always brought out whenever your family and his ate grilled fish by the sea. In those days, your father would try to stuff a measly, high-powered grill inside his car, only to put a dent in his trunk as he tried to shut the door.
"Masaki, just bring some skewers and we can light a fire somewhere! You can never go wrong with the old ways, no?" Your grandfather often retorted, carrying a giant bag of wooden skewers along with the same, rusting iron place that always found its way between his arms. "Humans have been creating fires since the dawn of time! Why bring all that fancy garbage when all you need is some wood and a lighter!"
"Ojiichan, I don't think cavemen had lighters before." You'd often reply, peeking your head behind your father as you watched the two, grown men argue about something so trivial.
Whenever he thought of you, the first few things that came to mind were how your father and grandfather were always beside you. Sometimes, they would shift positions, but they usually occupied the spaces right next to you, towering over your small, childish frame. It was your grandfather that taught your father how to fish, and it was a combined effort from the two of them when you were born. Initially, he's heard from his mother that your father was reluctant to teach you the depths of his trade—after all, you were a girl.
It was your grandfather that secretly taught you the art of fishing. Then, when your father found out, your grandfather stood his ground and told him to watch you swish the net towards the sea.
"Girl's better than you when you were her age! Would you look at that!"
Riki was there, too, when you showed your father that you were more than capable of his craft. He couldn't remember the exact details, but he was around three or four—too young to hold a handheld gaming console, but old enough to store vivid memories within his tiny headspace. Back then, Riki still had the same level of contempt that he always carried whenever he visited you. He treated every fishing trip with feigned nonchalance, and he declined every offer to hold the net or pull the abundance of fishes with you. Although he refused to admit that he wanted to try it out, he just couldn't handle being bested by a girl.
"I'm surprised that you decided to come all the way here on your own! You know… since you always looked like you didn't like it here." You said. Your head was now faced towards the distant shoreline. There was a small, rocky breakwater by the edge of the coastline, right next to the main port where your house was located. To his surprise, the stone lining still remained intact. The skies had begun to turn into a shade of deep, violet, and you snapped your head back in his direction, giving him a questioning gaze. He nodded his head in response, taking the bucket of fish off your hand while you fastened the iron plate between your arms.
Whenever the skies had cleared after a day of heavy downpour, your family has always made it a routine to eat grilled fish by the sea. Since Riki and his family always spent long summers in your town, they would try to help to the best of their abilities by stuffing their small, Honda Accord with foldable chairs, tables, disposable tableware, and various bottles of drinks that could readily be shared once his father had arrived in the usual parking lot. Initially, your father used to use an American-made griller, stuffing the poor thing behind the trunk of your family's relatively smaller van. Assembling the thing took more time than grilling enough portions for both you and the Nishimuras, so he began taking his father's suggestion of a bonfire instead.
The two of you would often gather around the fire until dusk, watching its flame flicker in silence. When it was dark enough, you took your hand out and intertwined your thumbs together, watching your tiny fingers flap with the seagulls that delicately soared through the skies. Riki would follow suit in a competitive strict, teasing you about how his shadow was bigger than yours. Instead of forming a bird with his fingers, he would clamp his hands down together like an alligator, clapping its sharp teeth right where the outline of your bird had flown. His sister was too afraid to go near the pile, and most of the adults in your respective families were too preoccupied with their own conversations to keep a watchful eye on the two of you. Every now and then, your grandfather would join your little games of shadowplay, using his longer digits to form the complex outline of an elephant.
The sun had perfectly set into the horizon, and Riki tried to remember the way your grandfather twirled his fingers to form the elephant. You had already marched on ahead, occupying the space that your grandfather once did whenever he would light the bonfire needed to start your summertime lunches together.
"Well, I don't know. I really don't." Riki replied, keeping his gaze to the floor as he stumbled on each word. "The only thing I know now is that I don't hate it here as much as I used to. Hell, I don't even hate it here at all, to be honest."
"You miss it, huh?"
"I do. I was planning on visiting two years ago, but the earthquake hit, so all the shinkansens and highways were closed."
"Ah, right." You replied. "Mama told me about that. Sorry that you guys couldn't come."
"It's fine—I mean, at least now we don't have to go all the way to the mountains to collect firewood to grill these by the sea," Riki said, swaying his head back and forth at the rubble that was scattered in the shoreline. "Plus, I think it's a good time now to light a bonfire, no?"
"You're right,"
Riki began to gather the wayward driftwood and clutter around the area. You sat down on your usual spot, rummaging through his bag to find a box of matches and a plastic lighter. There were two boxes of Marlboro menthols tucked under his jacket and several piles of clothes, causing you to heave a sigh as you took one carton and dangled it in front of him.
"I'm surprised you were able to smuggle this thing in the train," You asked. Riki rolled his eyes and dropped the driftwood he gathered in one, large pile, snatching the carton from your hands as he shoved it inside his pocket. Although he knew you weren't the type to smoke, he nonetheless hid the carton from you with a sheepish frown.
"Don't worry, I'm not telling your mom if you keep quiet about giving me a stick or two."
"Fine."
The spring breeze has come to a complete halt. The night was cold, and Riki jutted his chin towards the messenger bag on your lap. You took a sweater and hoisted it over your head, using your free hand to hurl a balled-up cardigan in his direction.
Riki tore several pages off his notebook and crumped them all in a single ball, tucking it between the piles of splintered wood and large, wayward tree branches. Admiring his rather lopsided craft, he stepped back and watched you strike a match, tossing the stick into the pile.
"Since when did you start smoking?" Riki asked, putting a cigarette between his lip.
"My senpais at the archery club in Sapporo used to have sessions after practice, so I naturally joined them a little bit later."
"How about you?" You asked. Riki shrugged his shoulders and averted his gaze from your glassy eyes. You had enough things to worry about, and he didn't want to add to that pile of woes with his own bouts of adolescence and peer pressure.
The two of you stared in silence at the mountain of splintered logs and broken branches in silence. The ball of paper had flared up, and Riki tore more pages off his journal to feed the fire. A bright, yellow flame swayed back and forth before it evaporated into a single, thin, grey line of smoke. You took a drag of your cigarette, occasionally puffing out some smoke. Riki did the same, using the plastic lighter to strike a flame between his lips. The two of you already knew the pattern that was going to unfold before your very eyes. The pile wasn't dead. It had already caught fire somewhere between the folds of paper that Riki had tossed, and both of you just had to wait a little longer until the flames started to spread between the wetter, wayward logs.
Once a few small flames had started to flicker at the edge of the pile, you inhaled the smoke and tar that filled your lungs, following the faint, crackling rhythms of the pile. Riki let out a long, drawn-out sigh, as if his life depended on the conditions of the bonfire. For the next few minutes, the two of you knelt down into the soft beds of the sand, silently watching the roaring flames as you took turns taking a drag off your respective cigarettes.
"Did you know that a massive fire like this one broke out when the initial tsunami hit?" You suddenly asked. Taking one of the wayward branches off the shore, you took a fish and stabbed its still, lifeless body with it. Then, you held your hand out and twirled the fish's body to the flames, filling the air with the delicious smell of a bygone past. Riki did the same, stubbing his cigarette before taking a medium-sized bonito in his hands. Instead of stabbing the fish with a branch, he instead propped up a piece of steel that he found nearby. Once the steel rod was close enough to the flames, Riki took the fish's body and twirled it around with his shoelace, letting the rod do the job while you keep your eyes on your meal of the night. The iron plate was idly placed between the two of you. It would be a shame to use it without your grandfather.
"Yeah, it was all over the news. Honestly, the last thing I expected to happen during a goddamn tsunami was a shit ton of fire or something."
Another round of silence loomed over the two of you. No one said a single word. The two of you hardly moved, taking a silent drag of your dwindling cigarette as both of you continued to watch the flames which had accepted all the things that were left unsaid.
"Right?" You replied a lot later with a widening grin. Riki had never seen such an expression on anyone before—not even his own mother, who had spent an entire year glued to the television screen during the onset of the disaster. You looked nothing like the cheery, optimistic girl that you always were within the confines of his memories. There was a deep, solemn charge around you that sucked him into an eternal void of darkness, and he flimsily took another cigarette from his carton, watching as the remaining sticks fell out of the box. Somehow, the bonfire was not doing enough to light up the sudden abyss that consumed him. If he didn't do anything now, he, too, would be snuffed out by your ever-increasing gloom.
"It's okay to cry, you know?" Riki said, watching your face contort from a smile to a thinly pressed line of pensive thought. There was something outright inhuman in the indescribable expression on your face as you longingly stared into the bright, yellow glow of the flames. It was as if all the pain and sadness that awaited him in the future amounted to nothing in comparison to how your cheeks and jaw were clenched into full rigidity.
"I'm trying, but none of my tears seem to come out lately. It's like, whenever I start to feel that really painful ache in my chest—the one where you know you're gonna cry, I try my hardest to let it all out. I'm so tired of living every second of my life with this heavy feeling that makes every step I take feel like so much, but it just refuses to come out somehow."
"I see." Riki replied, scooting his lanky, hunched body closer to yours while keeping some space for the iron plate lodged between your bodies. "I don't know if it makes you feel any better, but I cried a lot when I heard about the earthquakes and tsunamis. Mama and Konon-neechan did too.”
"I think that was the last time I cried too, to be honest."
"Gramps?"
With a single nod, you hugged your knees to your chest and watched the flames dance into the night.
Riki knew how close you were to your grandfather—after all, it was him who mainly took care of you when your father was out fishing or selling his most recent catch at the wet market. The two of you were too attached to the hip that Riki couldn't seem to visualize one without the other. Sure, as you and Riki got older, you would spend more time with him at the behest of his mother, but your grandfather was always somewhere in a certain distance, watching over the two of you with a benign smile as he read his daily papers or did his stretches. Despite his old age, your grandfather would even join the two of you in your silly, childish games of tag or hide-and-seek. Instead of letting either of you win, he would take each game as seriously as one could, exerting all the energy within him to match both of your much faster strides.
In a sense, your blinding, halo-like radiance had certainly come from your grandfather's presence. If Riki squinted his eyes, he could still see the little girl you once were—but your own glow had significantly dimmed down without your grandfather.
"It's like the moment he chose to die, the entire city died with him." You said, taking the fish out of the fire and letting it rest on the cool, iron plate. It was slightly burned, but the meat inside was intact. Riki did the same, taking his steel rod off the flames while letting it rest before he could untie the twine laced between the cooked fish's body. The flames were now eating away at the biggest log in the pile, and you quickly took the last fish in the bucket, piercing it with the same, burnt branch. Riki adjusted the pile altogether, using a small, wayward stick to poke at its sides. He continued to toss small chunks of wood, tossing it in whenever the flames roared in hunger.
"I think that's how everyone feels about this entire disaster, you know? It's strange, really." You continued. "It got me thinking about how this city always dies a little on the inside whenever one of its citizens die—like, even before the disaster, it just feels like the number of people being born into this place can't equate to the loss of life. Does that make sense?"
Riki nodded his head in response, keeping his eyes towards the flames. Once the last piece of fish had been thoroughly cooked, you placed it right in the middle of the iron plate—between the two burnt fishes that you and Riki had neglected for a while. Taking a pair of chopsticks from Riki's messenger bag, you began dissecting your burnt meal one by one, delicately taking each bone out and separating the meat and skin on the side. Riki had never smoked three cigarettes in a single day, but he allowed himself to indulge in one more, allowing the heat between his lips to fight off the cold that began to embrace his shoulders.
"I think it's all of Japan right now, to be honest," Riki spoke after leaving himself alone with his thoughts. "I don't know when it started, but it's like there's this big, gaping hole inside us that we can't fill no matter how hard we tried."
You slowly nodded your head and lifted your chin in his direction. The fish was now fully deboned, and you took an overflowing pile of meat into your mouth, thoroughly chewing it. When Riki looked at the plate, he was surprised to see that you managed to rearrange each bone around the body of the untouched, perfectly cooked fish in the middle. He asked for your chopsticks and pried his own meal open, quickly tossing a chunk of burnt skin and meat inside his mouth. The taste of cigarettes added an extra smokiness to the already charred fish, giving it an extremely bitter taste. Nonetheless, he managed to chew everything in one go, before taking another large piece to shove into his mouth.
"I think we're all born with a certain emptiness inside." You suddenly spoke, tapping onto Riki's shoulders for another cigarette. He pointed at the carton on his lap, and you took it with a bow.
"Most people manage to fill it up with love and all that stuff, and I think it's sort of our purpose to come close to closing that hole with whatever we could—you know, friends, money, hobbies, or whatever. But personally, I think I'm all cleaned out."
It took a few seconds for Riki to cough up the meat and bones that were suddenly lodged into his throat. You drew yourself closer and extended an arm towards his back, giving him gentle pats as he coughed up the remained of bones into the bonfire. Once he regained his composure, he promptly stood up to take the empty space right next to you. Now, the iron plate had a single, cooked fish on its surface. You chucked your pristine bones into the flames, and Riki's messy, half-eaten ruins were unsalvageable given the blackened marks around what would've served as his dinner.
"What do you mean?" Riki asked.
You looked up the sky to see that the sun had disappeared entirely. The two of you didn't know what time it was, but the deep, dark void of the skies above gave both of you a vague idea of how much time had passed. Within the flickering crackles of the flames, it was hard to tell what went on in your surroundings. All at once, the shoreline, the waves, the people that passed by, and the seagulls would disappear. The only thing that mattered then and there was keeping the bonfire lit. So long as the fire was being fed, it would accept everything within its embers, taking it all in, and letting it all out in soft whimpers for more driftwood.
"I'm completely empty." You repeated, voice growing hoarse with each word. As you closed your eyes, you felt the bone-chilling, cold tears trickle down your cheeks. Riki placed a firm arm around your shoulder as you suddenly hunched yourself over, gripping his knees as hard as you could. He had thrown the last piece of wood into the flames, and the ocean began to roar louder than the fire in front of you.
“There’s nothing in here anymore,” You continued, giving your chest a firm pat.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Riki drew your body closer to him, rubbing circles in the small of your back as you continued to nestle yourself into his arms. A long, smoky line of steam had decorated the dark air with ribbons of grey streaks. He kept himself silent for a while again, watching the crown of your head bury itself within the soft fabrics of his sweater.
"Wanna head back after the fire burns out?" He asked. Riki felt you nod between his chest, and he placed his head on top of yours.
"Ojiichan won't be too happy if we left the fire alone." You whispered, trying your hardest to suppress a yawn. "Plus, he still has to finish the fish we cooked for him."
"True."
Wrapped within his arms, you began to close your eyes, drifting into the first proper sleep you've had in what felt like an eternity. Even his own, light pats felt like they would break you in a second. You were too delicate, too fragile in his arms, and all he could do was keep his arms around you, blocking the wind from knocking you over into the dark abyss of the ocean in front of him.
He took his wayward messenger bag and draped a wrinkled shirt over your legs and shoulders, cautiously keeping an eye on the flames. Most of the wood was now mere, powdered ash—but the biggest piece had still glowed with an ethereal, dim radiance.
"Can you wake me up once the fire's all burned out?" You asked sleepily. Riki patted your head and slipped another cigarette between his lips.
"You'll probably start feeling the cold once the fire fully goes out, so don't worry about it." He replied. As you curled yourself against him, you succumbed into a fleeting, yet ever so deep sleep. Riki dug his hands through his messenger bag again, fishing out a small, plastic flip phone. After skimming through several missed calls and messages from his family, he allowed himself to look at the time and date that was etched on his phone.
0:00, March 11, 2013.
Whether the two of you liked it or not, the fire would eventually die. The cold air of the spring breeze would start to simmer down into your skin, jolting both of you awake from the first and perhaps last sleep you'll ever have.
𝗦𝗧★𝗥ㅤㅤ’ ㅤ 𝑓𝘪𝘭𝘮────flirty neighbour jungwon x fem readerㅤㅤ❀ㅤㅤteasing, skinship, reader is described as someone shortㅤ 2O4Oㅤ REQUESTED
jungwon has been waiting.
with squinted eyes and frequent sighs, clock ticking on the wall and yet, he checks the one on his wrist every minute. his patience runs thin with every tick of the second hand that is in synchrony with the tap of his foot.
a minute passes. then another.
he gives up.
“you should get down and let me do that,” there’s an edge to his voice, one laced with irritation.
“i can do it—” and you speak of determination as you reach out for the bulb on your ceiling, only to miss it by a brush of your fingers. “—shit,”
it’s all out of spite.
you’re not half interested in talking to your very hot neighbour and asking him to change the fused bulb. it simply slipped out of your lips and jungwon, being the lovely guy next door he is, waltzed inside your apartment as if it belonged to him.
the light is barely within your reach and his eyes are going back and forth between you and the stool, afraid you might fall. “your stubbornness is going to land you in a hospital,”
you shoot him a glare from your periphery. “i said, i can do it!”
worse, he shouldn’t have undermined your ability to change light bulbs, despite your height, or rather the lack of it— as he says it— because now you’re set on doing it yourself.
you’re not that short, never felt it until jungwon moved in next door with his habit of patting your head every time you pass by, until he started leaning down to hear you talk knowing well he isn’t much taller than you.
it’s all his fault.
“get down. i’ll—”
“if you keep your mouth shut, i might actually be able to focus,” you cut him off sharply, barely balancing yourself on your tippy toes over the wobbly stool that’s supported by his hands.
just a little bit more.
and you aim to reach higher, extending every single muscle in your limbs if it’s even mortally possible. almost there, and then like a wisp of air, his arm wraps over your legs, the other holding your waist securely, bringing you down to the floor as if you weigh nothing.
“i almost did it, idiot!”
he scoffs at your whines, the huff in your cheeks and at the way your brows furrow in annoyance. “yeah, i’ve been seeing that for the last thirty minutes,”
the proximity between you two doesn’t even cross your mind until his arm tightens around your waist and he effortlessly moves you to the side in one swift motion.
he pushes you down gently against the nearest chair, taking a good few seconds to look at your pretty face. “you look mad,”
and it’s like he is stating the obvious. “i am mad. i would have done it on my own if you hadn’t interrupted,”
he huffs at your insistence, half annoyed half admiration. there’s that bark in your words even when you’re sitting with his hands on the arm rest, caging you in between. “give it up, shorty,”
you squint your eyes. “shut up,”
“make me,” he bends closer, head hanging dangerously low for your sanity and his too, in fact. you look attractive when you’re mad. “make me shut up,”
you want to wipe that shit eating grin off his face, to strip him off that facade and make him feel out of place just the way he does to you. your eyes move down to his lips that are slightly parted, almost invitingly.
it would be crazy to kiss him. you can do it— you shouldn’t, but then you gulp, gravitating towards him on your own, slow, hesitant, with a tilt in your head.
“oops!” and he backs off with a laugh, hands up in the air almost mockingly. he stands up on the stool to fix the light, acting ever so smug and insufferable. “duty calls,”
although, you don’t miss the way his ears turn red.
STARRING: potter!Park Sunghoon x florist!fem!reader
RUNTIME: 7.7k
SYNOPSIS: Your relationship with Sunghoon was strictly professional, albeit amicable. He would create beautiful ceramic vases that you'd commission for your display, and you supplied him with a collection of seeds he’d use to grow his own personal garden on his balcony. Sunghoon always felt like the two of you were walking around a glass vase that would break with a single wrong step, but sometimes he feels like he needs to make that first step into finally knocking it over.
GENRE: Romance, some levels of angst, magical realism, soulmates!au
WARNINGS: PG13+ | Slight mentions of familial death
DIRECTOR'S CUT: Another @/dhoya repost because I couldn't let this one go. Made minor changes here and there, and in a way, this was a little bit of a warmup when I initially wrote it like two years ago. I'll be producing shorter works called "short films" which will mostly be my writing warmups to take a break from my longer works. Expect more soon (i.e. Birds of Paradise Sunoo but imo that's gonna be refurbished into a full longfic because there's so much lore). Who knows? This might be refurbished into a longfic someday, but I have my priorities and I'll complete them accordingly before expanding on this one.
COPYRIGHT OROCHXI 2023. DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.
The place where Sunghoon feels the most ease is in his studio. The low hums of the pottery wheels reverberated across the vast emptiness of his four white walls as he continued to shape his recent work. A string of sighs escaped his lips as he continued to dirty his fingernails with the smooth batter of clay. He’s shaped a myriad of ceramics, but his fingers can never be satisfied. Did he put too much clay? Was it not enough? Is the shape suitable for the design he thought of painting?
He was always a perfectionist—even more so after meeting you.
Dates were never something he bothered to remember unless they had to do with his job. He was quite terrible with birthdays, but he always had specific exhibitions and showcases etched on the back of his head. Sunghoon has always surrounded himself with the earthy smell of clay to the point where he didn’t bother leaving his studio for trivial matters such as restocking his endless cupboard of instant food. He was a man that breathed his craft to a dangerous degree—and if it meant sacrificing some basic necessities, he didn’t mind.
The same went for romantic partners. He wasn’t too big on love like many artists, and he’d go as far as to say pottery was his first love. Ever since feasting his eyes on the pristine porcelain finish of a Joseon Dynasty vase, he devoted his life to perfecting his skill as a potter that upheld tradition. He was aware of his appearance and charm, considering how many exhibition patrons lined up to say a word or two to him. Some of them caught his eye, but his innate stoicism took over, often dismissing these encounters with a humble smile.
The date was an event that he had tattooed on his upper forearm. 23.12.08. Ironically, it was his own birthday, but that wasn’t the first thing that came into his mind when he looks upon the Korean characters on his arm.
How he hasn’t made a major move since two years of meeting you completely baffled him. After all, he was a smart talker. He was quite confident in his stride, and he carried himself well. It was one of the biggest reasons why he had regulars in his little shop—he won them over with each sales pitch, a cup of warm tea, and an inviting grin. Sure, he often disregarded his patrons as mere customers that would pay his rent, but he knew they thought otherwise.
He wasn’t too sure, but a growing part of him began to convince himself that it was the opposite when it came to you.
His first meeting with you was when his doorbell rang three times. It was a moody afternoon, and the clouds were grayer than his current concoction of loose clay. He was in the middle of creating the last batch of ceramics for another showcase he was invited to, so he considered anything outside of his work on this particular day an interruption. In times like these, he tuned everything in his environment out—focusing his entirety on nothing but his craft. It was an automatic process of fishing out wet clay and shaping it with the wheel until he gets the shape that he wants. Sometimes it would take a few spins, but it would often take him the whole day to stop himself from overworking the clay—even then, he never went too far. Clay dried out quite quickly, and he was more than willing to sacrifice artistic integrity for efficiency.
He was a quiet worker, so it was natural for him to ignore the doorbell. The shop was usually closed for a long period of time when he was working on a set of exhibition pieces, and today was such a day. However, the doorbell continued to ring until its whiny chimes were replaced with light knocks on the door.
“Hello? I know you’re in there, Park-ssi. Please let me in or these flowers will die.”
His head jerked up in annoyance. He didn’t mind sociability, but he didn’t like disruption in any form.
Despite the mildly aggressive tone, he didn’t hear any malicious intent in the voice outside of his door. For the loud motors of his electric pottery wheel, the voice was audibly loud and clear.
“Come in, the door’s unlocked.”
Sunghoon had a bad habit of keeping the doors to both his shop and studio unlocked. It used to be convenient, but ever since making a name for himself, it became a huge problem. He’d often be met with the pushy demeanor of his so-called “fans” that asked him about his private life more than his work.
The click of the door was completely drowned by the hums of the pottery wheel as he continued to spin his craft. He didn’t bother to look behind him since his priorities lay in perfecting the shape of a vase he was planning to showcase at the exhibit. While he was known for reviving traditional Chinese porcelain pottery, he decided to fuse the intricacies of its painted finish with a futuristic, angular shape. After all, even he found it boring to stick to the same thing—no matter how beautiful a classic, old-fashioned design can be.
After what felt like hours, he took the weight of his foot off of the wheel’s pedal. The quick gears of the wheel’s motors stopped in a second, engulfing the entire empty studio in sheer silence. A satisfied hum escaped his lips as he admired his new vase. It wasn’t anything special, but visualizing how he’d paint it gave him a burst of energy that recharged him instantly.
“That looks like it’s gonna be a nice vase! I’m sure it will look good with these flowers!”
This time, he jerked his head towards the voice, almost dropping what he spent the entire day working on. He couldn’t tell the age of the person in front of him, but there was a unique glow that surrounded you as you held a basket full of flowers tight. At the time, he placed the blame on the marmalade hues of the afternoon skies, but now he begs to differ. Maybe you truly had an innate brilliance to you.
He held his clay-ridden palm in the air before jogging towards the large glass window of the studio. In front of it was a bundle of flattened newspapers laid out with an assortment of plain, ceramic vases that bathed under the spring sun. He made some space for the vase in his hand, and then gently placed it next to a spherical clay sculpture. Once he was done, he haphazardly took his apron off, throwing it on top of a nearby chair.
“My hands are a bit of a mess right now, but who are you, and why are you here?”
He did his best not to touch anything. You placed the basket on a table by the glass window, making sure the sun’s rays hit each petal.
“I’m a florist. A woman named Madame Mo stopped by and told me to deliver these to you since it was your birthday. She said she would’ve done it herself, but her duties as a so-called “socialite” eventually won her over.”
There was a hint of disdain in your voice as you continued to describe Madame Mo—which was something he somewhat empathized with. Madame Mo was someone who was aware of her “old money” privileges amongst the Korean elite, and she had an air of haughtiness to her—as if she could buy Sunghoon whole. He felt bad for her status as a widow and understood—to some degree—her overbearing attraction towards him, but customers were dealt with professionally. It’s not like he’d go for her if the circumstances allowed it, but he would’ve allowed her to at least be his friend.
A drawn-out, monotonous hum escaped his lips. He completely forgot about his own birthday. He also forgot that there was a flower shop near his studio. As if you saw right through him, you tried to stifle a laugh.
“Working on your birthday sure seems tough.” You said, admiring the bouquet that you picked out for him. “I usually take a day off on my birthdays, unless funeral-related orders happen to be on the same day as my anniversary on this planet.”
You gave him a warm smile, and he felt his heart race. He couldn’t wrap a finger around it, but there was a strong magnetism in your presence that pulled him towards you. At the time, he attributed it to your face and occupation—you had the features of a person he’d find extremely attractive, and you were in the same field as him to some degree. Aesthetics were an integral part of both of your occupations, and so he was aware of beauty when he saw it.
He cleared his throat, finding ways to make you stay. His eyes scanned through a shelf of vases he’s made for himself.
“It’s my birthday, huh?” He mumbled. He already had a scenario in mind—being the idealist that he is. The only thing that bothered him was the execution. Even if he loathed social gatherings and after-parties, he was thankful that they helped him foster his charisma through sheer trial and error.
Your eyes followed where he stared and admired his craft. A sigh of awe echoed in the studio, bouncing off of all the walls that encased his artistic outlet.
“Do you want me to help you transfer the flowers to one of those vases or something?”
His eyes widened as he snapped his head in your direction. You were now beside him, eyeing each vase with a pensive gaze. There was a telepathic wire that connected your brain to his, and it took some time for him to realize that it has always been there from the start.
Nonetheless, things were going the way he pictured it. In a common occurrence, expectations never match up with reality—what unfolded right before his eyes was too good to be true.
“Yeah, if that’s okay with you,” He replied, swallowing a stutter that was emerging from his throat. “Also, can you help me pick a vase? I only make them, so I don’t know what type of flowers can complement the design and whatnot.”
You beamed with an infectious joy that day, which he inferred to as the “artist’s pursuit of happiness”. It was every artist’s pride to share their expertise, skill, and knowledge with any audience, no matter how big or small. He was well aware of this, being a victim of the phenomenon himself.
The two of you stayed in his studio until night. Before you said goodbye, he offered you a glass or two of Chianti from his vast collection of wine in the kitchen cupboard while you sat on his balcony outside of the large glass windows. You suggested ordering a cake as a celebratory gesture, but he gently declined, saying that he wouldn’t be able to finish it on his own. He liked that you were careful whenever you opened the glass sliding door that led to the balcony, with each step memorizing the positions of the drying ceramics laid out right beside the window. He also liked that you wished him a happy birthday throughout your time together, even when you’ve just met him.
Sunghoon never allowed anyone to touch his unfinished work, but that day he let you assist him in firing up the remaining pots he needed to complete his exhibition pieces. Of course, he didn’t tell you this, but what he did tell you was that you had a good eye for color. There was a certain humility in you accepting his compliment, but he also admired the layered sense of achievement that slipped out of you as you continued to share how being a florist naturally broadened your grasp on color theory.
When you said goodbye at his door, he promised to see you at your flower shop the next day—even if he didn’t have any interest in gardening. He doesn’t regret this though, since he’s learned to appreciate growing his own flowers throughout the two years he’s known you.
Since then, he formed an unbroken routine with you. He’d often visit your flower shop to ask for seeds and fertilizers, while you commissioned vases for him to use as a display for your flowers. When he had the time for it, he’d offer to teach you how to make and paint your own vases, while you would return the favor by showing him the art of flower arrangement. It was an almost daily occurrence for him to walk into your shop, even when he had more than enough tools to expand his newfound hobby.
“Didn’t you buy a kilogram of fertilizer yesterday?” You asked one day with a light chuckle while spraying a bouquet of roses with water. He did his best to regain his composure and told you that he forgot. That was the first time you came to his house for the sole purpose of giving him a crash course on gardening. A part of him felt guilty that you offered more than he did when it came to your respective fields, but another part of him took every chance he had to spend time with you. This, in turn, formed a part of his routine with you—where you would visit him to check on the flowers he began growing at the edge of his studio’s balcony.
Some days, you’d come to the studio with a sketchbook, and the two of you would spend your time together in comfortable silence. Ever since you taught him the language of flowers, the two of you began to switch roles in the still-life sessions that you shared together. He would pick which flower he wanted to draw that day, and you matched it up by picking a vase from his array of fine works that would benefit the vast collections of your shop.
Usually, he’d end up eating dinner with you with a glass of wine, often dropping you off at home. The silent walks under the dim street lamps were the best and worst parts of his days with you. While he was able to stay close to you, he would never get the courage to either hold your hand or tell you how he felt.
He’d religiously invite you to every single showcase he attended, even going as far as to offer you a job to help decorate each venue with your floral prowess. Two years had passed since he first tried to persuade you to come with him to an auction, but you still managed to shy away from these events.
This was another thing he liked about you.
In fact, there were too many things he liked about you. The way your eyes would shine under the fluorescent lights of his studio; the way your nimble fingers cut the stem off of his flowers; the way your footsteps lightly trudged whenever you drank too much wine—the list would be endless.
Perhaps his status as a renowned potter shaped his personality today, but he’s begun to realize that it wasn’t a good thing regarding his qualms with you. For one, he was too careful. He treated you like fine China, nimbly avoiding hazards that would tip what he currently has with you off and break all that he’s built with you up to now. He was too afraid to ruin the delicate details of everything that made his relationship with you so beautiful—so he left it untouched, only walking around the hypothetical vase between the two of you.
Another thing he dreaded was how difficult you were to read. In the same way that he treated his patrons with charismatic benevolence, you greeted every single customer with a bright, inviting smile. You shared your knowledge of flowers with regulars the same way you taught him how to arrange them in his vases. He knows he’s being selfish, but the idealistic thought of keeping those memories exclusively between the so-called enchanting secrecy that he’s built with you chipped him away with each passing second. The line between his self-doubt and reality was blurred like a piece of clay spinning in his wheel, and he couldn’t step on the pedal to stop it altogether.
This time, it was going to be different. He knew he couldn’t keep on working on the same vase for too long—the clay would be too dry, and he’d just keep on adding more wet clay to the amalgamation until it was too large to handle. Like all his failed attempts, he needed to tip it off and allow it to break before it was too late. Only then would he be able to create a newer, much better vase.
He woke up earlier than usual today, even though he didn’t have anything to do. It was probably around half a year ago, but he’s been gripped with fever dreams that leave him with a temporary level of high body heat. It would often die down later in the day, but the severity of these fevers made him routinely check his temperature the moment he woke up.
Today was an all-time record of 38.5 degrees Celsius.
The haze that came with the heat left his reverie blurry, but your face was always unforgettable. Most of his dreams left him breathless with all the sensations in his mind and body activating all at once, and all of them gave him an indescribable feeling in a vast spectrum of positive emotions. Each dream was also different than the last, but he never seemed to remember exact details other than your sheer presence. All he would remember when he woke up was the afterimage of his silhouette and yours seemingly pacing a vase in the middle, as well as a haunting melody that was distorted by an aging record player. He didn’t know what the song was called, but at this point, he could perfectly hum its tune—which he unconsciously did throughout the day.
This time, he remembered every single detail. It was almost too picturesque, and the entire scene made him wish he could just dive back into his covers and relive his reverie—but alas, he couldn’t live like that. Idealistic trances that came with an eerily deep slumber left him in a state of euphoria, but he wouldn’t trade it off for the exhilaration of meeting you face-to-face. After all, he always prided himself in having an affinity for authenticity.
He quickly got out of bed and darted to his shower room, allowing the ice-cold water to ripple on his skin. He was never one to take a bath in the morning, but ever since his episodes of fever-inducing dreams got worse, he felt that it was a necessary step in regulating his body temperature. Once he was finished, he wiped himself with a large towel and wrapped it around his waist, before visiting his balcony to bask in the morning winds. The season didn’t matter to him—in fact, winters work best with his current condition. Despite being somewhat naked in broad daylight, he never seemed to succumb to a cold. No matter how harsh the winds were, he managed to pull through the teeth-clattering chills. Although behavior like this seemed counter-intuitive, what worked for him worked.
Ever since he began growing his own flowers, he would always be greeted with the floral notes of his seasonal home garden. While he initially started the hobby as an excuse to see you more often, he began to steadily see the beauty in its meticulous intricacies. Unlike clay, flowers had life in them; a single shard of porcelain can be revived into a postmodern piece for the rich, but a stem stepped in half was practically dead. In the same way, dry clay can be fixed by adding water, flowers had a tiny margin of error when it came to feeding them their necessities.
The marmalade rays of the sun were perfectly aligned with the semi-large pots of flowers that began to bloom with the seasons. you initially picked out a starter set for him, which included marigolds, pansies, and daffodils. After he got tired of their vibrant, yellow hues, he opted for a batch of tulips, carnations, and azaleas.
“Do you know what these flowers mean?” You asked, elegantly cocking your eyebrow at him. You were wearing your shop’s apron, which complemented your figure in his eyes. Perhaps he was too used to donning the same apron each time he met you, or maybe it was the apron itself becoming a part of his renditions of you.
Of course, he knew what they meant—but he was used to pretending when it came to you. Feigning ignorance was a relatively easy and safe way for him to go around his feelings for you in repeated circles, but it was getting harder and harder for him to continue when the thought of you subjected him to blissful vertigo.
“No,” He answered, maintaining his cool exterior.
“I just wanted to get them since they looked really nice.”
After that, you helped him sow the flower seeds into a bed of soil by his studio’s moderately sized balcony. You gave him a run-through of each flower and its meaning; tulips when they were red meant deep love; carnations when they were dark red signified love and affection; azaleas represented a gentle kind of love. You teased him about it by referencing several people you’d seen at the exhibitions he’d invited you to, and he did his best to restrain himself from proudly dedicating each batch of flowers to you.
It was currently the middle of spring. Being an artist, he had an appreciation for all four seasons of the year. His sensitivity to the weather and changes in his surroundings were often reflected in the painted finish of his ceramics—for spring, he’d use finer brushes to bring life to the blue hues of the petals that adorned each vase he made; for summer, he would draw faded clouds that captured the iridescence of the light blue skies; for autumn, he’d experiment with colors and use a warm, gentle palette to accentuate the dead leaves that he often saw strewn around the roads; for winter, he created delicately designed plates that were adorned with snowbells.
He closed his eyes and felt a flurry of cherry blossom petals stick to the moisture of his freshly washed skin. Unlike the maple leaves of fall, he enjoyed the satin finish of each petal as they lightly caressed his exposed body.
As he tightened the towel on his waist, he was met with your figure sitting down on one of the studio’s stools. He did give you the keys to his house, but he didn’t expect you to come this early.
“Good morning! Aren’t you cold?”
Sunghoon greeted you with a gentle smile like he always did. He chalked it up to the orange tint of the rising sun’s rays, but there was an inkling of hope in him that blossomed as soon as your cheeks emitted the warm dyes of the weather. You offered him a steaming cup of coffee, but he politely refused. After all, he had already gotten rid of the heat in his body—he didn’t need another source to add fuel to the fire.
“I do this every morning, it feels nice.”
Your eyes wandered around the blooming pink hues of the potted flowers you helped him tend, which were now covered by a small flurry of cherry blossom petals. Carefully obscuring his barely covered form, you occupied yourself with marveling at the care he’s given them.
There was a look of concern etched on your face at his remark, and he hastily excused himself to his bedroom. Before he was able to leave, you took his hand and pulled him towards you.
“Hold still,”
You turned him around, picking the stray pieces of light pink petals that stuck to his back. A single touch of your fingertip managed to electrify him—which prompted him to exhale in jagged breaths.
“I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose or not, but wouldn’t it be uncomfortable if you dressed yourself with petals stuck to your body?”
Through his peripheral vision, he saw a pile of cherry blossom petals increasing in size beside him.
“I thought it’d be nice body art.” He replied with a chuckle. It’s been two years now, and yet his heart always leaped whenever you laughed with him.
“Well, you should’ve told me! It would’ve been a nice source of inspiration for your spring-themed collection, and I could’ve helped you pick out which flower petals worked with your skin tone!”
You tapped his shoulder, and he automatically faced you. He noticed and admired the gradual agility in your fingers as you continued to pluck the stray petals off of his chest and neck.
“You know, maybe you’re right about the whole body art thing. This looks gorgeous! They look like scales or some half-human hybrid off of a fantasy novel.”
The palms that firmly held his shoulders were warmer than he was used to. He hummed in response, staring at your focused demeanor. It was the same one he’d see whenever you arranged flowers back at your shop, or when you’d immerse yourself in painting a vase in one of his free lessons for you.
“Love, flattery won’t get you anywhere.”
He reserved pet names for you, despite telling you he had a nickname for each of his friends. The last petal was formally removed from the left side of his collarbone, and you gave his shoulders a soft squeeze.
“Darling, I mean it. Now go get changed before you catch a cold!”
You gave him a light push towards the hallway that led to his bedroom, careful not to exert too much force. He hoisted the towel up one more time, and waved you a quick goodbye. He never dared to ask you if you reserved pet names exclusively for him or not.
“So why are you here so early? Don’t you have a shift today?”
Sunghoon was now dressed in his usual garb, and he slowly leaned his body on the elongated table of his studio. He always delved into the smart casual style, and sported a loose cream turtleneck with a checkered suit jacket.
“I took the day off. I thought it’d be nice for you to have a companion since every call we’ve had this month always ends up with me being busy.”
Oh, the things you did to him. He’s perfected the air of nonchalance that surrounded him, but it didn’t mean the beatings of his heart eased by any means.
“I mean, it’s funeral season. I’m pretty sure your services are needed to provide the appropriate flowers for the ceremony.”
Ironically, many deaths occurred in spring. Most of his commissioned urns were requested right before the vernal equinox, and seeing you running around in a sleek, black suit was a sign that spring was here. Today though, you were wearing what you usually wore, albeit a little more fashionable.
“Well, today, there were no funerals scheduled, so I had some liberties in taking the entire day to ourselves. I do have someone I want you to meet though, if that’s okay with you.”
A smile wasn’t appropriate for the conversation topic, but you managed to muster a small one towards your companion. You took the cold cup of coffee you brewed for them and slowly sipped its contents. Sunghoon left his own cup untouched—caffeine was unnecessary when you were in his line of sight.
“Who?”
You placed the mug down as you fidgeted with your seat. You then tapped your finger on your lips and gave him a cheeky wink.
“It’s a surprise!”
Although your playful attitude was refreshing to him, his curiosity won him over. Each plea from him to reveal the mystery guest he was going to see was only met with you doubling down on your secrecy. He eventually gave up, huffing to the side as he crossed his leg on one of the stools.
Timid patterns of your fingernails tapping onto the surface of the ceramic mug filled the air. The ticking of the clock continued to echo across the entire room. you whistled a tune that sounded familiar and unknown at the same time, which made Sunghoon ponder its origin. He wanted to believe that it was the same tune he’s heard in his dream, but such a twist of fate seemed too far-fetched. Silence was usually something he didn’t mind when he was with you. Being next to you and feeling your presence was enough for him, and there was a part of him that found earthly comfort in you.
“I,“
You heaved a sigh. He didn’t know what it meant, but what he knew at the moment was how rare it was for him to see you distressed in the slightest. False hope was a deep kick in the brain, and he raveled in the myriads of possibilities that started with the word I from you.
“You?”
On cue, you stood up to occupy the empty stool next to him. Taking a neatly wrapped cloth out of your tote bag, you untied it to reveal shards of porcelain that were all too familiar to him. There were clusters of rich soil and plant roots that stuck on the sharp corners of each shard. His entire body contradicted himself. For one moment, he yearned to get closer to you, and in a second, sudden tremors overwhelmed his nerves, leaving him gasping for a single sliver of air.
“Please don’t get mad at me, and please believe me when I tell you this, but the first vase we made together accidentally got knocked on the floor while we were cleaning the flower shop in my dreams. It means a lot to me since it’s the first vase we made together, and I was wondering if we could maybe spend time today gluing it back?”
Your breath was audibly jaded. His eyes widened, and his mouth went agape. A sudden sensation froze him, preventing him from moving a single muscle no matter how hard he tried. Shock would be the closest phenomenon he’d describe it, and the layers of self-doubt that he’s built throughout the duration of knowing you began to peel off one by one.
“In your dreams?” He couldn’t hide the astonishment in his voice.
You gave him a slow nod after gulping. He leaned closer to you, lips forming a thin line. There was a visible plea in your gaze, which he returned with curt reassurance. You allowed your body to rest on the table’s surface, using your elbows to support your weight.
“It might seem unbelievable at first, but it’s true. In my dream, we were together in the shop, dancing to some old hits while cleaning. I think it was around nighttime, since the skies were dark and the shop had the closed sign displayed outside.”
You closed your eyes and began humming the tune whilst dangling your feet to a moderate rhythm. Sunghoon’s eyes began to grow wider, his body stiffening with every second that passed.
“Were we dancing with brooms while that vase was right in the middle?”
It was your turn to exhibit a state of bewilderment. You neatly piled the shards of ceramic back into the cloth, wrapping it in a different knot from when you first brought it in. While doing so, your shaky hands pricked themselves on one of the shards—but the pain didn’t seem to faze you one bit. Your entire body was undergoing stupefaction, and you were solidly upright like a marble statue. You tried to continue talking about your dream, but a mere croak was the only thing that escaped the invisible clasps of your throat. It took all of Sunghoon’s current strength to prevent himself from breaking contact with your dilated eyes.
“Was I the person that knocked the vase over?”
You gave him a firm nod. Placing a hand on your heart, you subjected yourself to a few rounds of deep breaths. He hesitantly took your free hand in his and gave it a firm squeeze.
“You knocked the vase over with the tip of your broom, causing all the soil and flowers to come out. And then, I woke up to the sound of clatter downstairs at the shop. The vase was broken, the flowers we planted together were also on the floor, and I immediately thought of coming here to fix it together. Maybe harvest the flowers on your balcony to regrow them in the repaired vase.”
He felt your fingers curl on the back of his palm, and he returned the gesture with a beaming grin. Your feet were now sporadically dangling on the height between the stool and the studio’s floor.
“Listen, in the end it’s just a vase, and we’ve made a lot of that together.”
He used his eyes to point at the shelf behind them. you follow his gaze, keeping your hand on his. Sure enough, the collection of ceramics he’s made with you was triumphantly displayed on a glass case right next to an endless shelf of failed pottery. Each vase and plate were arranged in chronological order, and a wave of nostalgia washed over him as he continued to stare at your rather quick progress. While you had an eye for color, you didn’t have agile enough fingers to operate a pottery wheel—the same could be said for him. While he was great at drawing flowers on his sketchbook or painting them on the ceramics he crafted, he was initially terrible at soil cultivation and maintaining flower beds. It was the parallel yet extremely complementary nature of your respective skill sets that allowed for such a relationship to blossom in the first place.
He took your hand and led you to the glass case. As your eyes hovered over your earlier works with him, a certain embarrassment began to surface in the form of tinted, rosy cheeks. On the other hand, he did his best to hide the ever-growing pride that consumed him. you averted your gaze from the entire glass case, and he used his thumb to soothe the shakiness of your hand.
“See? I don’t think we should dwell on a single vase for too long. If we glue that vase back together, the crackles are just gonna ruin the glazed finish it once had. There’s also a high chance that water might leak out of the vase since glue doesn’t specifically fix cracks in fragile things.”
The two of you were still in front of the glass case. He felt a strong aura of energy around each vase that was displayed under its glass casing. He took a deep breath as he tried to control the tremors in his body. Taking your other hand in his, he interlocked your fingers with his, feeling a perfect fit. He’s always wanted to do this.
“So, we should make another one by scratch?”
Your voice wavered, as if you were in a hurry. He tried his best to hide his looming dejection. Of course, events like this were too good to be true.
“Well, we already have a fired glazed model from last week. All we need to do now is to paint it.”
Taking his word, a grin lit up your eyes in radiant sparkles. You picked out a cylindrical shape from the batch of dried pots you shaped with him, and he added a mental tally to the chances he’s missed.
By the time the pot was ready, the sunrise that Sunghoon woke up to retained its same hues, save for the presence of a violet trail in the sky. While he added final touches to the intricate designs of the cylindrical pot, you trimmed some flowers from his home garden and arranged them in a lovely, pink bouquet. Each bud wasn’t overcrowded, and you balanced the vibrance of the petals with a fair share of leaves. As an added touch, you placed some fallen cherry blossom petals on the bouquet, giving it a youthful yet transient glow. While waiting for the paint on the pot to dry, he continued to pry you on with the identity of the guest.
“You’ll meet him soon,” You’d often reply, with a gentle smile on your face. He knew he was overthinking, but a part of him insisted that you were going to introduce him to a new significant other. The thought alone to him was extremely ridiculous and downright impossible, but nonetheless, a wave of apprehension continued to float above his head as he waited to finally have his guest revealed.
The tote bag you brought with you was large enough to fit the newly crafted vase, so you carefully wrapped its entire body with excess newspaper before gently placing it in your bag. As for the bouquet, your hand carried it with you.
“What should I bring?” He asked, while turning off the lights in his studio. He gave the flowers on his balcony one last spritz of water before locking the glass sliding door to his balcony.
“You don’t have to bring anything, really.” You patted the side of his shoulder as you said this, whilst securing the ceramic in your tote bag.
He opened the door for you, before leaving himself. Usually, you would say a snarky comment or two about him being a “gentleman” and whatnot, but that youthful manner was replaced with a gentle smile of pure gratitude. He didn’t mind this side of you—in fact, it gave him more reasons to yearn for you. The endless dimensions of your character were as multifaceted as the endless spirals of his pottery wheel, and he never wanted to lift his foot off of the pedal that unraveled each and every layer of your soul.
The pavement outside the city was lined with fading cherry blossom trees. The spring winds blew eastward, and a flurry of light pink petals would caress your faces with a touch of tenderness. There was a small river beside the pavement, which had a stone bridge perched right in the middle of it all. Sunghoon himself has visited the park countless times, but he limited himself to the bench near the entrance—where he’d have his sketchbook opened to paint still-life watercolor illustrations of the fleeting people that ebbed and flowed with the flows of the river.
You hoisted your tote bag tighter, gripping its strap as you continued to walk. You were approaching a slight inclination that led to a miniature stone bridge that separated the river. He continued to follow you, watching your unwavering, determined figure with awe as you walk past all the greeneries, flowers, and marble headstones that he suddenly felt himself drawn to.
The entire walk from his studio to the park was in sheer silence. There were many questions that plagued his head, but at the same time, he took note of your secrecy. He couldn’t feel any malice to your slight stoicism and withdrawal. However, the curiosity that continued to consume him persisted.
Before walking away from the bridge, he took a mental note of the location. It was constructed in a typical ancient Korean fashion, which gave him several ideas for his next exhibition. Most of his works centered around floral themes ever since he met you, and he realized the redundancy in his craft. Maybe adding a body of water amidst the flowers he’d often paint would accentuate his vases and pots.
“You know,” you began, keeping your eyes in front of the road. Tall marble slabs began to appear in his line of sight, and he admired each of their craftsmanship. Perhaps, in another life, he would have chosen to become a marble sculptor. There was an allure in the macabre nature of funeral proceedings, and he was sure that each headstone he would produce would harbor an even graver symbolism than the urns that were commissioned to him.
“I don’t know if I told you this, but you’re always in my dreams.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Rows of black and grey marble headstones bore Chinese characters. In the corner of each headstone, there were greyscale photos of faces that each told a different story. You were an amazing florist to everyone else, but to him, you are a professional at subjecting his vitals to rigorous gymnastic routines.
“What do you mean?” There was no point in asking this. He predicted the answer to bear an uncanny similarity with his own nightly experiences. There was also a part of him that didn’t feel the need to tell your his side of things—there was always a telepathic connection between them, and some parts of him believed that you already knew he experienced the same phenomenon.
The two of you were approaching a colorful gateway that smelled like paint thinner. The primary colors were flashy, which was almost ironic given the monotony that existed past the gateway. The golden sign shone with the setting sun, and the watchful eyes of the two guardian lions on each side of the gate stalked your every move as the two of you walked inside. While it was his first time entering such a place, your automatic strides juxtaposed his wandering eyes.
“When Madame Mo called me to arrange your birthday bouquet, I began seeing a face that looked exactly like yours. That time we didn’t know each other, so I did my best to memorize your facial features in case I’d forget them when I woke up.”
You stopped in front of a little wooden stall by the entrance. Taking your wallet out, you temporarily handed the bouquet to Sunghoon. you thanked the monk, receiving three thin incense sticks and a candle with a matchbox in return. He offered to continue holding the bouquet, which you apologetically agreed to. you slipped a single incense stick into the breast pocket of Sunghoon’s suit jacket, patting it in place before resuming your stride.
“Anyway, I’d get these crazy fevers whenever I dreamt about you, and I never really remember what I saw in my dreams aside from you and a vase between us. I still don’t know what it means, but maybe he might have the answers.”
He?
Your footsteps came to a halt. The two of you were now in front of a wide, obsidian headstone. Unraveling the cylindrical vase from its newspaper wrapping, you positioned it right next to the headstone. Then, you gently placed the bouquet of flowers inside the vase, using a bucket filled with water nearby to add its contents inside the vase. There was a photo of a man that looked like he was in his late fifties. He had a gentle smile on his face, and he bore a certain resemblance to you.
You took the matchbox and lit the incense sticks. Sunghoon hastily pulled his own stick out of his pocket and used the heat of your two sticks to light his own. The floral notes of the sticks wafted into the air, followed by a spicy undertone that gave your nostrils a light kick. You clasped your hands in prayer, closing your eyes shut. He followed suit, bowing at a slightly steeper angle than you. A few minutes of silence filled the vastness of the cemetery. A soft clap signaled the end of your prayer, and the two of you lifted your heads up in unison.
“Dad, meet Park Sunghoon, the man in my dreams.”
All at once, the suspicion that Sunghoon bore dissipated into thin air. It was now replaced by a tinge of guilt that bore holes in his heart. On cue, he gave the headstone a long, steep bow.
“Dad, you told me that I’d know who my soulmate is if I get a high fever after dreaming of them. Here he is, and I hope you’ll watch us from above.”
Sunghoon continued to keep his head down. The sudden shock of it all was hard to contain. you tapped his shoulder, telling him it was okay to raise his head up now. you waved a quick goodbye to the headstone, before walking back to the gate of the cemetery.
The winds continued to blow eastward, with distant petals of cherry blossoms caressing your cheeks as the two of you walked on.
“I originally wanted to use the vase we first made together, since I’d imagine that held more longevity between us.”
Instead of looking forward, your eyes were now towards him. He kept his hands in his pocket, but he returned eye contact nonetheless. Even if he was extremely satisfied with the outcome, he still didn’t know how to go about it.
“I guess you were right about the vase. It had to break for us to make this new one.”
He nodded in agreement. The two of you shared a smile as you walked past the colorful gates of the cemetery. There was no need for physical contact anymore, as the two of you felt the clays of your hearts spin into one, intricate vase.
SYNOPSIS: All the clocks have stopped, and the only things in the universe that seems to be moving were you and Jongseong's heartbeats.
GENRE: Magical realism
WARNINGS: PG13+ | Drinking
DIRECTOR'S CUT: Another @/dhoya warmup that I personally think is too good to rot in the docs. I think it's also one of the few instances where I achieved a lot for such a short word count—which is something I normally never do because I have a bad habit of expanding and expanding until I'm stuck with an uber long fic that will take me another hellish week or two to edit.
COPYRIGHT OROCHXI 2023. DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.
The refreshing fizz of beer permeated the silent streets of the night. Your lips hovered over the cool surface of the can, taking in the fleeting, malty aroma that filled your nostrils. It’s been a while since you’ve tasted beer, but it was a classic and familiar flavor that tingled your tongue with the images of a transient youth.
The time on Jongseong’s phone read 01:49, but with him, the concept of time seemed to defy all laws of physics. You couldn’t tell if time accelerated in synchronization with your rapid heart rate, or if it slowed down to increase every second you spent with him. Maybe it stopped altogether, as if the universe wanted you to drown into an eternity akin to purgatory with him.
His brows furrowed at the sight of you slurping the cold can of beer in your hands. You promised to stay sober for the year, but here you are now. The streetlights glowed brighter as the two of you continued walking in the direction that the wind blew—after all, these streets were a product of your feet’s muscle memory. To get lost in them was a phenomenon that was outright impossible. Even if Jongseong were to lose himself in such a familiar place, he always knew how to get himself back on track. Maps and directions were a thing of the past to him—all he needed was your soft hair swaying back and forth with the wind. It was like a compass to him, directing him towards a path that led him straight back to you.
“Aren’t you cold?” He asked. Drawing the fleece cardigan closer to his neck, he watched as you casually continued your stride, elegantly timing your sips with an invisible metronome that ticked with the skies. Even if he hated seeing you like this, he couldn’t help himself. You were a sight to behold, even if your lack of sleep added an extra shade of violet under your eyes.
“I don’t know,” You replied with a nonchalant shrug. Your sips came to a jagged halt, and you began twirling the can of beer between your fingers. The viscosity of the liquid swirled with life, stirring an enigmatic episode within the cages of your heart.
“You don’t know a lot of things,” He said.
Bubbly.
That was a funny word—and yet, it was the perfect fit. Your stomach breathed in gassy gasps of air that gargled in acidic tones, just like how your heart hiccuped with the blurred, hazy sight of Jongseong’s shadows.
“I sure don’t.”
A sip of beer usually didn’t do anything to you. Being numb to the effects of alcohol was something that you prided yourself in—and yet, as you walked side by side with Jongseong, you began to feel light-headed. You felt your strides lose their natural balance as your body swayed back and forth. Feeling his worried gaze gleam over you made you exaggerate your intoxication even more. What can you say? You were always a callously sly one.
You held the can to your companion of the night, who shook his hand.
“I’m trying not to drink too much.”
Jongseong was never a heavy drinker. He was also someone who didn’t spend too much time socializing, keeping his small circle contained in a tin of sweet, assorted cookies with different tastes and shapes.
The sound of the river was coming closer, and you suddenly picked up your pace. Looking back, you saw that Jongseong didn’t do the same. There was a gentle smile on his face as he trailed behind you, eyes focused on the entire scene ahead of him.
Being the theater kid that he is, he was rather selfish when it came to the spotlight—but that all changed when he met you. In his life, you were always in the lead.
At first, this was something he loathed. Why did someone like you have to ooze an innate charisma that he spent his entire career practicing for? It was unfair, considering your lack of experience with dramaturgy. The way you simply pulled everyone in with your smile and energy—of course, this was all before you mellowed down into the state that you were in now, the “you” that he was currently at odds with.
It was only when he lost that part of you where he realized how much he missed seeing you the way you were then—bold, energetic, and assertive.
Nonetheless, he didn’t mind where you were now. If your iridescent disposition put you at odds with him, then your calm, solemn gaze was what pulled him in even further from his grasp. It was perhaps in his later years of friendship you, when you began to listlessly live your life. Floating across time and space in an apathy that made your lips firm, he had to admit that your sudden pensiveness put him in a trance that stopped all the clocks around him. Which side of you was your true self was a question he didn’t bother answering—real or not, it was putting two and two together that snapped a line of rationality within him.
An actor had to have dimensions, and you had all of them.
“Jay, take my hand.”
Your voice was like a spell that couldn’t be broken—enchanting, unwavering, and ever so alluring. There was a certain mysticism that he found himself inebriated by (that was probably why he refused to drink whenever he was with you).
The few people that walked around the streets seemed to stop—in fact, everything seemed to stop around him. The cold air that cut through the distance between the two of you turned warm. As his hand met your, a shiver of clashing temperatures gave him an electrifying shock all the way down to his spine. The icy sweat that protruded from his palms mingled with the residue of the canned beer that you grasped onto throughout your nightly walk beside him. He was sure he was supposed to feel even colder, but everything was on fire. Temperature was a lost concept now, and the thermometer of his body shattered in an instant. It was as if endless liquids of mercury had poisoned him all at once, rendering him into a state of hypnotized rigor mortis.
The moment he took your hand, you yanked it towards the stairs that led to a meadow that overlooked the large river. He was no longer lagging behind you, and you were no longer in front of him. Your feet synched up with his in a BPM that he couldn’t recognize—in fact, he wasn’t aware if such a tempo existed at all in the history of music. Every aspect of you was all over the place, and yet it all aligned in perfect synchronization; your heartbeats were one, the speed that both of you sprinted in collided into a uniform acceleration, and your breaths circulated oxygen in unison.
Your footsteps came to a halt the moment he felt tall bits of grass tickle his ankles. Words weren’t necessary anymore when the flow of the river was enough to feed the starlit evening. Even if the two of you were standing, the river carried your bodies back and forth, swaying them with the gentle breeze of the night. As his hand continued to hold yours, he felt your veins connect into one; the hot flows of foreign blood entered his system, circulating all over his body.
If this was all a dream, then Jongseong never wanted to wake up. He followed the direction of your eyes, which was towards the dots of shining stars that glowed in the abyss of the dark skies. Even if the moon was absent, he saw his shadow merge into yours. The can of beer that you held was nowhere to be found. A notification popped up on Jongseong’s phone. The time etched on the screen read 01:49.
SYNOPSIS: Jay and his workmate were wrapping up their shift at the local ice cream truck by the beach. All of a sudden, the car radio starts to produce an amalgamation of static screeches, screaming, and patterned beeps. Someone was crying for help.
GENRE: Mystery, supernatural, thriller
WARNINGS: PG13 | A lot of profanity | Mentions and depictions of recreational drug use | Some graphic depictions of injuries and blood | Can get surreal from time to time so it may be difficult to follow | A lot of food because they work at an ice cream truck | Lovecraftian lore if H.P. Lovecraft as a person triggers you because I get it, he's awful
DIRECTOR'S CUT: For the nth time yes, this is camille/vivian formerly @/dhoya @/sonatatine and @/orpheyeux. this is the completed version of a wip that I posted in this hellsite two years ago. It was inspired by Robin and Steve's dynamics when everyone kept talking about Stranger Things like in 2021. For context without spoiling the story, Jay and mc are uni students in America, so they're not going adhere to Korean/East Asian mannerisms of saying their last names first (if that, in any way, bothers you for some reason).
COPYRIGHT OROCHXI 2023. DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.
PROLOGUE: SLOW ANIMALS
Within the small bookshelf of the owner’s truck was an ancient book written in an alien, extinct language that nobody—not even him—understood. As he leafed through the text’s pages, he turns a blue light lamp on, positioning the book right below it. Beneath the iridescent glow of neon waves were the hidden writings of the old ones, finely etched in aging parchment paper that surprisingly stood the test of time.
The owner knew of the old ones and what they did. To gain knowledge of the old ones required complete devotion of any form—this was attained through a blood pact that garnered eternal life. Now, to be immortal is a quest that all humans have desired to achieve. Living forever, staying young for more than a lifetime, and witnessing the gradual passing of an era were all benefits to people like the owner. However, the owner had no time to revel in such things. This wasn’t why the owner formed a pact with an old one.
For when he gave his blood to the depths of the ocean, he didn’t wish to live forever; he wished for the truth.
To seek the truth, you must live long enough to continue searching for it.
When the old one spoke of this, the owner came to a solid understanding that the truth came in infinite waves of obstacles and hardship. His meager life would not suffice at all for a quest of this nature—if he should seek the truth, then he must devote all the time in the world to the cause. This, of course, meant all of time altogether. When bestowing immortality on the owner, he was aware of the old one’s tricks. By granting him eternal life, the old one was trying to tell him that the truth could only be found through infinite searching. Even then, the owner was persistent. If it took all of eternity for him to attain supreme enlightenment, then the price of immortality was a hefty one. Even as he saw his wife, children, and grandchildren slowly wither away into the hands of death, he marched onward. He was well aware of ouroboros and the cycle of life, and he was willing to persevere through the pains of loss to achieve the impossible.
I: WELCOME TO INLET WAVES
Ah, yes. Summer vacation. It was a time for students and all those that are unemployed to enjoy themselves. The sun was out, the beaches were shimmering, and sweaty pools of odor and musk were pretty much unavoidable. For Jongseong—or Jay, as he would like to call himself since he moved to Florida—it was a delightful occasion to look forward to. He could finally stop getting brain-freeze and indulge in copious amounts of ice cream without worrying about his figure. After all, it was bulking season, not cutting season. The only way he could show his guns out to everyone that seemed to care is if he had the energy to sustain copious amounts of hours at the gym performing the same, six exercises that he knows. He didn’t care if he looked ridiculous doing so; he looked great.
Apart from maintaining a Promethean physique alongside a Sisyphean work ethic, he believed that the summer season was also a period of self-reflection and catering to his parents' demands of academic excellence and a six-figure job by the end of his degree. Though he wasn’t necessarily struggling with his courses (he was told he could graduate early if he concentrated more on coursework during the summer semester), he didn’t want to live that life. That was the reason he didn’t pursue engineering or medicine; he wanted to live a little. It wasn’t as if his parents were aware of it, anyway—so long as he told them that he was attending summer school and he was actively looking for a part-time job or an internship to fulfill the emptiness of free time, he was pretty much in the clear.
That doesn’t mean that Jongseong was truly free, though. The paradox that university students often go through is the mind-boggling liminality of having too much free time while having no time at all. Sure, he was free of all his academic obligations and did deserve a much-needed break, but was he really free when he had to look for work to pay rent and make ends meet? His allowance was already cut off after his parents found out he saved them up to attend music festivals, and cryptocurrency was a one-time venture that resulted in near bankruptcy and potential homelessness. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he didn’t want to get an internship that restricted him to a blank, boring office. Sure, he’d earn more money, but it wasn’t in him to sit still and type his entire summer vacation away. Even if he had enough credit to spend five months of leisure under the sun, his parents’ insistence on taking summer courses already made him use his brain too much. He needed a job that didn’t ask for him to do things beyond his status as a first-year university student; he just wanted a job where slacking off was part of the paycheck. After scrolling through hundreds of listings online, he found an ice cream truck by the local beach willing to take one more employee. The thought of working at an ice cream truck never really occurred to him, but it was a job that seemed harmless. No uniform? Employee’s access to rental surfboards by the beach? No need for a CV or a resume? An hourly wage of $35?
It was like a dream come true—but even then, Jongseong knew dreams couldn’t possibly be real. Even if he was prone to impulsive decisions, he was still cautious enough to save himself from being scammed. So, just in case, he’s prepared a resume and given the place a proper call.
With the blessings of modern technology, he had easy access to free templates online. There were many to choose from, but he didn’t need anything too flashy. After all, this was a resume for a job at an ice cream truck and nothing more. Some of the skills he’s written were deliberate lies that seemed true given the current program he was enrolled in. Heeseung was against the idea, but Jongseong reassured him that it was just a job for an ice cream truck, hence background searches weren’t as extensive as that of a multi-million enterprise or a non-profit organization.
“Hello? Is this Inlet Waves?” He asked. Keeping his smartphone between his cheek and his shoulders, he comfortably sprawled himself on his bed. He lowered the volume of a wayward episode of Black Mirror on his laptop, saving all of his documents before closing it altogether. Professional jargon wasn’t particularly his forte, and for someone like him, he dreaded his eventual future career of offices and formalities.
“Ah, yes! Are inquiring about the job offer?” A gruff, low voice replied in a hurry. Somehow, this tone was what Jongseong would have expected of an ice cream truck owner. It was rather standoffish and raspy—probably due to excessive smoking or alcohol consumption. Either way, he pictured a man who lived in a trailer, chain-smoking Parliaments while listening to a dying FM radio station that people his age would frequent.
“Yes, I am.” Jongseong curtly replied, maintaining a neutral, yet subtly ecstatic tone. From Heeseung’s advice, it was better to sound optimistic when calling an employer. That way, the eagerness to obtain the job would be transparent. It was also a great way to make a first impression before the interview, since, a friendly voice would raise his chances of getting hired. After all, it was always better to work with those that were receptive to sociability.
“Can you please state your name? Just to make sure we’re talking to the right person.” The clicking of a mouse was heard in the background, followed by the shuffling of papers. Jongseong took the phone out of his ear and held it away from his face to swallow a lump of saliva that was building up in his mouth. Could an ice cream truck have that many applicants? Considering the rather high hourly wage, he was sure there were many like him who wanted a quick buck during the summer. He believed he had an age advantage, but in terms of work experience, he was pretty much on par with a desperate high schooler who wanted pocket money.
“Park Jongseong.” He paused for a while, then pondered if he should correct himself. To live in a country where he stated his first name first was still a habit he was trying to build, and often more than not he’d find himself slipping into the syntax of his mother tongue. There were one too many occasions when a friend or a professor would call him “Park” instead of “Jongseong” or “Jay” due to his habit of saying his last name first. It wasn’t like he cared, but he would rather hear his peers butcher his name than be called “Parks and Recreation” or any joke that had to do with the English word park for the rest of his life. Before he could correct himself, however, the other end of the line hastily spoke with a flurry of papers aggressively strewn around in the background.
“Great! So, when can you start?” The man’s voice was clearly in a rush, and each sentence during the call gradually quickened until Jongseong was sure there were no spaces in his words.
“Whenever?”
For a brief second, Jongseong muted the phone and began to cuss himself out. One of Heeseung’s advice regarding the call was to never show hints of uncertainty. In his own words, showing uncertainty is an immediate blunder that results in a high chance of rejection. From an employer’s standpoint, uncertainty in a phone call, or worse, an interview response, shows that one isn’t too sure of themselves. To make a conclusion based on assumptions alone was rather unfair, especially to first-timers such as Jongseong, but unfortunately, that was how employment worked. Time was never in an employer’s favor, and with the gradual shifts in the job market came a stricter standard of polishing the future workforce.
Then again, this was just a job for an ice cream truck. In comparison to the tough competition of Ivy League applicants at a multimillion company, he would just be scooping ice cream and serving pre-packaged popsicles. It was no big deal, and he would probably get the job if he pushed his alma mater in the interview. With one, deep breath, he unmuted the call and apologized for taking his time. When asked about why he disappeared for a few minutes, the best alibi that Jongseong could come up with was the age-old lie: My dog ate my homework and I was trying to save bits and pieces of it before it was too late.
“Are you sure?” The man asked. Jongseong wasn’t sure if he was questioning his alibi, or his availability for the shifts, but the answers for both were all the same.
“Positive, Mr.?”
“Williams. Just call me Williams.”
Williams. That was one of the names he was expecting. Williams’ voice sounded more like a Jones or a Smith, but nonetheless, he was oddly satisfied with his guesses coming true. Suddenly, he began to wonder what Williams’ first name might be? Was it John? John Williams? Or Michael? Perhaps it was William, then he would be called William Williams. Jongseong quickly opened his laptop back up to see if Williams’ first name would be listed on the site he sent his application to, but in the end, all that he found was the listing and the phone number he was connected to right now. He would ask Heeseung if it was normal for a listing to leave out a representative, but upon checking the other entries on the site, he realized that the representatives usually had their names signed below the recruitment email they’d send out once one applied for a certain job.
“Okay. So, yeah, I can start whenever, but are you sure you don’t need to interview me or something?”
“Nah, come on. You’re gonna be working for a goddamn ice cream truck. You don’t really need any fancy qualifications to scoop shit up and put it on a cone.” Williams replied, followed by a chuckle that sounded more like a choke than anything. It was reassuring to know that his future boss had a hint of self-awareness and humor.
“Right…”
He suddenly felt a premonition about Williams’ character. It was definitely jarring for him to break his monotonous, hasty tone for a rather lax, easygoing attitude. Heeseung has told him that if an employer were to crack a joke or two during the recruitment process, it was required to laugh at their jokes. As such, Jongseong did his best to cover up the eery hunch that consumed him with a light, airy chuckle. When it comes to pretending a joke was funny, he was confident in his abilities to a certain degree. By being in a circle of frat boys who recycled the same, misogynistic jokes over and over again, he’s managed to survive by faking engagement. Sure, he found these jokes slightly funny when they were cracked for the first time—but to hear the same bit every day? They should thank their jacked physique and devotion to the gym. If it were any other scenario, Jongseong would have shut them down immediately and done the unthinkable, namely, hurt their ego by putting their sense of humor down to the lowest levels.
“If it’s too much, you can take your time and start next week—but if you’re eager to start working immediately, then you can come by the beach tomorrow in whatever you want. Just make sure to sanitize your hands and wear gloves.” Williams said, regressing to his former, rushed tone. It was getting harder and harder to catch each word he said due to his raspy voice, but Jongseong remembered another one of Heeseung’s advice when it came to phone calls and interviews—do not ask for clarifications. Although coming clean with a lack of clarity or understanding can be seen as honesty, it wasn’t in an employer’s best interest to hire someone that couldn’t comprehend a task the first listen. Efficiency was a top priority for many employers, and efficiency meant speed.
Just now, Jongseong already forgot if he could start tomorrow, or if he had to wait until next week.
“Gotcha. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Williams.”
“Oh, you’re not seeing me tomorrow. I’ll call you or send you a text if I’m coming by, but for now, I’ll pass it down to a fellow employee.”
The first sentence was enough to make Jongseong lose all the oxygen that was stored in his lungs. As his breath hitched, he listened in on the next part of Williams’ instructions, heaving a sigh of relief that his unasked question was subtly answered. If he wanted to make money as soon as possible, then he was more than welcome to go to the ice cream truck by tomorrow.
“Any other questions?”
Williams’ abrupt, hasty speech has grown on Jongseong, but there was a floating air of suspicion surrounding him that made him question if the job was worth it or not. What was outright ridiculous for him too was the hilarity in feeling a wave of apprehension over a rather simple job. For instance, why was Williams’ in a hurry? Is it the wave of applicants for a measly ice cream truck? Or was it something else? Another thing that continued to surprise him was the lack of an interview. He was aware that even in jobs at a fast-food chain or a supermarket, the presence of an interview was an essential aspect of the recruitment process. The most pressing thing that both acted as an advantage and a looming premonition of unknown fear was the hastiness of it all. Did he really have a lot of competition? Or was he sent to work the very next day due to a lack thereof? In the end, despite all these questions swimming around his head, he could only muster a nod of approval to Williams’ instructions.
“Nope, not really.”
“Great! Good luck!” Before Jongseong could say goodbye, the call was abruptly ended. The phone number was directly staring into his soul, tempting him to call back for follow-up questions. Upon exiting the phone app, however, the number completely disappeared from his recent contact list. He tried repeatedly closing and opening the app, but all he saw was anything but Williams’ phone number. He even restarted his phone twice, only to have both the phone number and the job listing opened up on his laptop disappear into thin air. No remnant of the ice cream truck was detected in his contact list, and what was reflected on the screen of his laptop was the host site’s home page. He tried to look for Inlet Waves but all he could see were unrelated job offers that didn’t house the specific address or phone number that he was looking for.
Good luck.
Despite all the oddities, why should he be worried? It’s just a job at an ice cream truck. There was no scenario he could think of that could possibly go wrong other than a natural disaster that was out of humankind’s control. As long as he was getting money, he reassured himself that he’d be fine for the most part.
Good luck.
He set his alarm for about nine in the morning, charged his phone and laptop for his classes, and closed his eyes. Good luck.
When Jongseong would go to the beach, it was often out of celebration rather than employment. He remembers the long trips in the confines of his car listening to German radio hits with his family, impatiently waiting with a PSP in hand to arrive and start swimming. The smell of brine was often accompanied by childhood memories of melted fruit ice pops and falling off a surfboard. Whenever the family decided to go to the beach, it was always during a holiday that made sure every single family member had all the time in the world to let loose and have fun. When he became a high schooler, the summer was spent on the beach with friends, drinking infinite bottles of beer and waking up with sand in his eyes. Upon moving to the United States for university, the coast was also a car ride away—something he factored in when he was deciding which school to enroll in. While he would have enjoyed a change in scenery, he’d much prefer the company of the sea. In a sense, the ocean was always with him throughout all the wakes of his life. It was like home to him, a reminder of a familiar place when things were too alienating or culturally shocking for him to handle.
While the beaches in Mykonos or Jeju did remind him of all the times he’d bravely let his small body float into the depths of the sea, Los Angeles in the summer was a different scene that couldn’t possibly match any of the beaches he’s grown up in so far. For one, it was packed with people. Sure, it was the summer season, and everyone had it on their bucket list to visit the sea—but Jongseong didn’t expect the shores to house an infinite population of bare skin and sunscreen. Usually, there would be enough space for him and his friends to lay out a picnic mat on the stretches of sand that defined the lidos of Europe. In Taiwan, there was often an area for a family or two to enjoy their time together without the woes of a dense crowd. Los Angeles, on the other hand, felt like a meat grinder for him. Every step was an accidental bump with shirtless men or bikini-clad women, and the more he treaded further, the more he felt the need to profusely bow in apology.
It would have been fine for him if the weather was windy—but it wasn’t. The hellish combination of intense heat waves and a tightly-packed population density made him give up a lot faster than he would have anticipated. Each step added an extra gallon of sweat that stuck to the surface of his skin, rubbing friction against a stranger’s bare skin and his T-shirt. Contact of this kind under any circumstance was undesirable, but the sweat which was supposed to act as a barrier between him and the people on the sand instead heightened all his senses. It was never good to be too alert with a single touch, especially when the oils of sunscreen intermingled with his sweat added significant weight to his entire body.
He passed by several stands that housed surfboards, finger foods, and several handmade souvenirs. The crowd of half-naked people got denser and denser with each step, prompting him to tiptoe to see if his new place of employment was nearby. To his luck, he was able to see the bright, pastel blue finish of a truck amidst the flurry of various hair colors that blocked his view. The truck—or so he assumed—was a rather far distance from the entrance of the beach, which slightly unnerved him. Most small business would usually situate their shops near the entrance of the beach, since customers would have easy access to their goods. Some of these shops sold necessities such as sunscreen and inflatable floaties in case a family forgot, so the lack of an ice cream truck around the area was inconvenient in terms of profit. If he were to own a business pertaining to ice cream, he would definitely set the stall up near the entrance or the parking lot, so that children would gravitate towards it immediately. The entrance was also a place that many patrons were already familiar with, so the trail back to the shops would have been a lot easier to tread than having to aimlessly search for the truck across a wide stretch of sand and saltwater.
With a final push, he was able to see the truck parked right in the middle of the sand, with just enough distance between the shore and the stone fence to allow beach patrons to pass by. The location itself was nearing the edge of the shoreline, where a distant lighthouse was perched on a man-made island of stone. He checked his phone for the time and heaved a long, exasperated sigh. It really shouldn’t have taken him forty-five minutes to navigate perhaps one of the biggest beaches in the world for the sake of an ice cream truck—but here he was, drenched in pools of sweat and secondhand sunscreen.
Given the location of the truck, his expectations rang true. There were no customers lining up, and the only person present was inside the truck. You perched your chin on your palm as you rested your elbow on the counter, tapping your fingers to a rhythm that was too difficult for him to recognize. Upon first glance, it was easy for anyone to recognize who you were out of notoriety alone. For one, you always had a full sleeve of tattoos on display, accompanied by one too many piercings on each of your earlobe. You wore heavy leather boots even in the heat of the summer, refusing to take them off even if it was extremely difficult to traverse through sands in such a tacky pair of shoes. You looked like someone that would listen to the type of music he’s never heard of—and for that reason alone, he dreaded the potential of becoming your workmate. Taking your hand to your ear, you plucked a wireless earbud out, waving it in Jongseong’s direction. He looked behind him to see if there was any other person you’d wave to, but you answered his silent question for him by beckoning for him to come closer. When his feet wouldn’t budge—either from post-gym drowsiness or beach fatigue—you called his name out loud three times.
“So the Jay Park has decided to work for a fucking ice cream truck, huh?” You said, meeting him halfway from the truck to where he stood. As you handed him an ice pack, you gently pushed him towards the truck’s door—which was left swinging ajar. The sudden drop in temperature on his cheeks made him shiver, but it was the perfect energizer he needed to start his first shift.
“Wait, how do you know me?” He asked, allowing his senses to overcome the heatwaves. Your face was definitely one that he’s never seen on campus, and he was sure that he knew most of the first years in the university via social media and daily nights at frat parties. You scoffed in response, then handed him a pint of ice cream from one of the large coolers in the truck. Instead of accepting the generous offer, he runs to the cooler and plunged his head inside. Whether he was violating health codes was a worry that went right past his head—what mattered now was to get rid of the scorching heat that permeated across his body.
“Everyone knows you, dude. You made a startup with a bunch of boys in business management,” You started, crossing your arms while thwarting off the heat with an overpowered electric fan that whirred in your direction. “I didn’t donate to the cause, but I’ve heard it went pretty well.” You left your body hanging around the cooler, taking in all its chilled sensations as you grabbed your phone out of your pocket. You began scrolling through it while keeping your eyes on the ice-starved boy. With a specific angle in mind, you clandestinely opened the camera app to position it right by his face, taking several shots in silence before tucking it back into your pocket. Once he felt like his sweat has frozen up into solid dollops of tears, he took his head out of the cooler and tended to the conversation you started.
“Oh, you mean the app we were trying to make?”
Jongseong couldn’t form words in his current state, but he was sure he was conscious enough to comprehend what came out of your mouth. As if the heatwave hadn’t impacted him enough, the cooler’s freezing effect managed to seep into his brain, turning all his nerve receptors into numb remnants of thought and memory. Shaking his head back and forth, his cheeks suddenly felt another wave of cool sensations caused by a plastic water bottle. You nodded your head and waited until he took it, gulping its content down in one go.
“Yep. A knockoff Tinder, right?” You asked, grinning smugly as you remember the buzz around the app a few months ago. “But instead of having people’s profiles to swipe you reduce them to sex machines—kinda like legalizing prostitution at the tips of your fingers!”
“Wow. I don’t even know your name yet and you’re already pissing me off.”
A look of annoyance from your new workmate was a sign of victory to you. Much to Jongseong’s chagrin, you proudly held your phone up to show him the embodiment of his bad ideas. How you were able to create a fake account without the proper verification process was beyond him, but he supposed it was a testament to how flawed the app he and his friends created truly was. In a similar fashion to Tinder and Bumble, one had to register via a photo of their university ID along with a passport or a driver’s license to solidify their identity. The accuracy of the app’s security system was a process he didn’t partake in, but if you were right, then it wasn’t as secure as he’d have hoped for. To be fair, he didn’t really want to take part in the project to begin with, but with a promise of a solid friend circle in an era of lost young adults, he didn’t really have much of a choice. In a sea of trying to find themselves, it was always helpful to follow a crowd. Networking was definitely a lot easier that way, and even if he wasn’t inaugurated in one of the many fraternities of the university, it was a solid foundation to familiarize himself with seniors that had some form of connection in the private sector.
“Good.”
You continued holding the app, eyes lighting with excitement as soon as you received your fifth or sixth match of the day. He wasn’t able to recognize the face on her profile picture, and it was still beyond him as to how you were able to fake a university ID. Maybe it was a lot easier than he thinks? Or perhaps you received some help from a computer science major—but then again, you didn’t look like the type to hang out with the tech-savvy crowd. With your dyed tips and somewhat heavy eyeliner, you could easily pass off as a faux-woke social justice warrior who spends your time on Tumblr or Instagram spamming your followers with slacktivist infographics. Or you could be in an all-female post-punk band that swears to overrule the so-called patriarchy with blaring guitars and hoarse lyrics about freeing the nipple. Either scenario works for Jongseong, and vividly imagining these scenarios alone made him recover from the fiery depths of Los Angeles’ summer.
“Anyway, what are you doing here? Aren’t you in like, a band or something? You look like the kinda person who’d be in one.” He asked, suddenly picturing her with a bass guitar. The instrument would probably be filled with stickers of all varieties, but that could be his creative liberties coming to play. It wouldn’t surprise him either way if you told him you played an instrument, especially if it was the bass.
“Thanks, but nah. I just organize shows since my friends were the ones that played. Most of them are dumb potheads, though, so we’re not getting any local shows unless they miraculously boost their grades up.” You replied, stuffing her phone back in her shorts’ pocket. Tapping her chipped nails on the counter, you eyed the open truck door to see if there were any customers lining up. Jongseong did the same, and drew himself closer to the truck’s air conditioning unit. Summer heat waves and a snarky co-worker aside, he could see himself liking his new job. The view of the coastline was immaculate, and it wouldn’t be too long until he could pick up a bikini-clad bombshell or two.
“So you’re in that type of crowd.”
“Marginally better than yours, I’d say.” You snarkily replied, grin widening as Jongseong’s thick brows furrowed within his lids. “You business management kids are insufferable.”
You occupied the passenger seat of the truck, turning the air conditioner’s temperature down to freezing heights. Below your seat was a tie-dye backpack with band pins he couldn’t recognize, and you pulled it out to grab a lukewarm bottle of water, gulping it down in one go. Putting the bottle on one of the many cup holders behind the gear stick, you leaned your legs above the glove compartment and began to focus your eyes on the colorful plastic of your Nintendo Switch. Jongseong tried to peer into your screen, but the sun blocked his view, permitting him to see a black screen instead of the game you were playing. With his phone barely surviving the heat, he decided to keep a close eye on the scenic view behind your side profile. It wasn’t to say he was doing his job, but rather, he was on the lookout for a girl or two he could talk to. Upon seeing a good concentration of red, sun-tanned dad guts and children running around building sandcastles, he quickly gave up. The lack of beach patrons walking towards the truck was another factor that made him revert his attention back to the run-down air vent of the truck. If customers aren’t coming anytime soon, then might as well mind his own business and cool down while abusing the truck’s rickety air conditioner.
“Yeah? And I bet you’re just a rich, entitled asshole taking political science or something,” He snapped back, allowing his sweat-drenched shirt to stick to his back.
“Close call, Jay. Close call.” You started, keeping your eyes focused on the bright, neon colors that flashed through your rectangular screen. “I’m actually a biochem student. I do consider myself a socialist, though,”
It took all the patience and restraint in you to prevent yourself from throwing the console out the window—and in the end, you angrily, but carefully tossed it above the glove compartment, hitting your toes in the process. Jongseong boisterously laughed at your face, mimicking the twists and turns in your mouth and eyes as you massage your toes. You gave him the middle finger in response—something he took as an act of affability rather than an invitation to fight as enemies.
“Why are you working here, then? Don’t you have a shit ton of opportunities if you’re in that program?”
“Yeah, but most of them have dogshit wages. To top it all off, they’re only looking for post-grad students, which is understandable. I don’t think they’d want freshies like me running around a hospital or something,” You replied while heaving a sigh. From the look on your face, it definitely was a given that you’d feel dejection. For people in your major, it was absolutely necessary to start networking as soon as possible. Sure, you could secure a fruitful career, but the market was a tough competition that required you to be at the top of your game. The arduous and extremely long process of entering the medical world also made him understand that you’d want a head start.
“Makes sense.”
It was all he could say. You defeatedly nodded along, staring at the nonchalance of the beach patrons having all the time in their world to lounge around, forgetting the woes of everyday life for once in a while. You pointed at a child who fell face-down into the ocean, his tiny head twisting from everlasting happiness to an anguished cry for help. In a matter of seconds, the child’s mother scuttled about, fishing her child out of the sea and carrying her in her arms. Both of you laughed in unison at the sight, but there was a bitterness in your chuckles that alluded to a certain type of childhood nostalgia. While both of you were still considered young, it was natural to feel old in your current generation. Everything moved too fast, and all you could do is autopilot your way into adulthood without fully comprehending what an adult was in the first place. In this little moment of mutual understanding, all you and Jongseong could do was stare at the children who built sandcastles and heave a sigh in unison.
“Damn. To think that working part-time for an ice cream truck pay higher than a residency at a hospital,” You lamented, slumping your shoulders on the ragged cushions of the truck.
“Absolutely abysmal, right? The economy’s fucked, I tell you.” He replied, lowering the temperature of the air conditioner. He stood up and stretched for a few seconds, before leaning his body on one of the coolers. You did the same, groggily picking yourself up to check on the open window. Shrugging your shoulders at the lack of customers and general traffic that the store went through, you took a popsicle from a smaller ice box and tore it open. He tilted his head, and some form of mental telepathy prompted you to toss another popsicle pack in his direction.
“Dude, totally. I don’t think I’m getting a job anytime soon.”
“The app failed?” You asked, biting on the vibrant block of ice.
“Nah, it’s doing okay, but I don’t really want anything to do with it anymore.” He replied, letting the cool temperature of the popsicle’s plastic wrapping ease the unlimited amount of sweat that oozed across his entire body. Summer was supposed to be his favorite season, but he didn’t know if global warming would continue to make him want to look forward to the middle of the year. “
Tinder’s got a bunch of criminal cases connected to the thing, and the last thing I want is to be a shareholder of something potentially dangerous.”
He opened his own popsicle and stuffed the sticky wrapping in his pocket. While the notes of cherry that wafted up his nose weren’t what he wanted, he decided to suppress his complaints to devour the much-needed dose of sugar.
“I didn’t know you were the type to think that way, Jay.”
One thing that made an impression on Jongseong was how fast you ate. All that was left between your fingers was a measly popsicle stick, while he still had his own share intact. While you did have a slight head start, there wasn’t much of a time difference between you opening your own popsicle pack and offering him his own treat. What also drove him insane was the seeming lack of sensitivity in your teeth. How were you able to bite into it without flinching? It was practically like biting into ice cubes; the thought alone was enough to make him question the limitless possibilities of humanity.
“Well, you talk like you know me when I’ve never even seen you around campus,” He said with disdain.
“Ouch. I’d be hurt, but I’m not. For your information, though, we do share a couple of courses,” You replied, pressing your hand to your heart to ease the absence of pain.
“Wait, really?” He asked, quickly scrolling through his phone to check all the group chats and discord servers that he was in. Upon realizing that one server had more than a hundred students with varying handles from their real names, he begrudgingly chucked his phone back into his pocket. There was no use in fishing amongst usernames like tOnYbAbaBOuie or 2B’s cum slut to look for you when you would probably have an obscurely obscene handle that blended in with everyone else.
“Yeah. Precalc and stat.”
You took your phone out and showed him your timetable, zooming in on the two courses that you claimed you shared with him. The slots aligned with his own calendar, and he stared at you in disbelief. To think that he would share classes with a biochemistry student—especially with someone like you—was something that never crossed his mind. The two courses were integral to his future economics courses, but it was just beyond him to share classes with someone in a completely different department. It was almost akin to that one time he showed up in an advanced Mandarin course only to be surrounded by native-speaking engineering majors who needed an easy elective to fill their general education requirements. It was, for lack of a better word, one hell of an experience for him. While he genuinely had an interest in picking up the language, he was surrounded by those who pretty much spoke the tongue the moment they were born. It was also rather amusing to see professors look at him and assume that he was Chinese.
“Korean, sir. Korean. My last name is Park,” He’d often had to repeat in English. The professor—Professor Xu, he believed—would only squint his dull, droopy eyes and muster a tiny chuckle that was often drowned out by the large class.
“Sorry, sorry.”
The bit became an inside joke among the Discord server for a while, and he looked back at the time with fond memories of seeing an elderly Chinese man photoshopped in videos of Super Junior dancing to the same song.
“Oh, damn.” He mustered. It was all he could say.
“I mean, both classes are huge so I get that it’s hard to know everyone,” You started with no attempts to console him. “But people around me like to talk a lot, so my impressions of you only come from what they have to say.”
Taking another popsicle out of the cooler, you stuffed it in your mouth as you took the empty space next to his. For a moment, both teenagers on the cusp of young adulthood lay silent in the emptiness of the truck. If this were to be you and Jongseong’s fate after four to five years of university education, then it would be rather unfortunate. Of course, it was in everyone’s dreams to reach the heights that their career path could offer. To own a successful company and be at its forefront, or to earn prestige and wealth via biochemical research both secured a life of prosperity for the two young students by the cooler—but in the end, dreams are just dreams. The dreaded fact of reality is that aspirations often fall short, no matter how hard one may try. Luck was a phenomenon that spontaneously worked without reason, and hard work did not mean anything without a certain amount of random chance. It didn’t even take skill or mastery to solidify employment—one just had to know the right set of people, and they pretty much had an easy footing into the world of adulthood.
“Wait, so you’re in Mannat’s circle?” Jongseong asked, suddenly shifting the conversation away from the impending dread of his future. You cocked your head with disdain, as if associating yourself with the name was the biggest insult that you’ve ever received.
“Bro, I do live shows and basically live with potheads. I’m not in a fucking sorority.”
“But from what I know, those dudes are too high to think about anything.”
You paused to recuperate your thoughts. He did have a point, but gossip was a wretched vice that all levels of young adulthood managed to revel in. Everybody talks—that was the rule in all levels of society. The stereotypes often associated with certain people in higher education didn’t cease to limit the amount of gossip that would range around the residence halls and other shared domiciles. Just like a fly, these stories were difficult to catch and kill; once its wings began buzzing out the window and into the next house, there was no telling where else it would go.
“I mean, yeah, but they still talk. You’re not the bigshot of their convos, but you’re buds with Luca and co., so naturally, your name comes up sometimes.”
He took the statement somewhat begrudgingly, twisting his eyebrows at the thought of being a sideshow to the main man himself—then again, this was Luca Fahy they were talking about. The man was three years above them, and he had enough time to cement himself as the father of dangerous party tricks around campus. The bad outweighed the good whenever he was brought up in conversations, but it was more so about his lack of intellect and brooding alcoholism rather than anything too scandalous or controversial—an antithesis of what a hard-working student should be. For one, he was a scholarship kid that slipped past the rigorous academic requirements with a sports grant. In their world of tiger parents and strict maintenance of high grades, students like Luca were met with a disdainful eye. In that sense, Jongseong could understand where her peers came from. Although Luca was certainly harmless with or without inebriation, it’s his existence as an “easy way out” that was a thorn in many students’ side—a constant reminder that people like him didn’t have to work half as hard, and in some ways, were gifted with athleticism.
“What do they have against Luca?” He asked, with a glint of genuine curiosity. He knew some of the answers, but he too was a young man. It was in him to delve into rumors and gossip—just like everyone else his age.
“Nothing, really. They just like to shit on him for being a stereotypical white frat boy,” You answered, shrugging your shoulders to an unknown, non-existent rhythm.
“You made it sound like they’ve got beef with him or something.”
“Trust me, that’s the last thing they want. It’s just fun to shit on people like that, you know?”
You backed away from the cooler to raise your arms in mock surrender. In your small friend group, it was usually the others that tend to talk more than you, but you were still a bystander. In the eyes of people like Luca, everyone who was involved in that crowd regardless of the degree was an automatic suspect. While you may perceive all of it in good fun, it wasn’t in your best interest to experience the wrath of gym devotees spiked with ubiquitous amounts of testosterone, creatine, and protein.
“I don’t, but I kinda get it.”
Both of you nodded at each other in unison, before subjecting yourselves to another round of silence. Jongseong didn’t know what occupied your mind during these intervals, but he was adamant about figuring out your circle and the weird stories they might tell. In the world of young adulthood, one way to find a form of identity is to align oneself with an archetypical friend group. Even if Jongseong wasn’t the typical frat boy, the fact that he associated himself with that crowd allowed people to infer the worst of him—at least from the perspective of someone like you.
He tried to fish through the myriad of societies and circles that existed in the vast pool of young adults like him who were rich enough to pay for higher education. Now that he was aware of your lack of ties with sororities, he managed to tie down a handful of groups. One was the aforementioned “potheads,” who usually spend their time listening to obscure old music in a rented shared house, filling their lungs with the devil’s lettuce until all consciousness is surrendered to the endless rolls of weed. It didn’t have to be limited to a sprinkle of Mary Jane—everybody had their vices, and it was usually this group that had an abundance of magic mushrooms and DMT within the basement of their crack den. This group of people is usually tied to the underground musicians, who play live shows in aforementioned share houses or in discreet locations that are either in someone’s decrepit basement or located around the outskirts of town. You did mention your former job as a live house assistant, so his list of people was narrowed down even further to a single, notorious student around campus.
“Wait… Are you friends with Dan?” He asked, hoping he hit the jackpot on your mysterious identity. You tilted your head to the side before unfolding your arms to fetch another popsicle pack.
“Which Dan?” You asked, now putting all your attention on the conversation.
“Daniel Ivy. He’s one year above us and he’s doing IR, I think.”
With one mention of his full name, you gave him a half-assed round of applause. He could never get used to your insensitive teeth, but the wave of pride was enough for him to swallow the discomfort down.
“Bingo! Dan’s fun.” You laughed.
A word about Daniel “Dan” Ivy. He was an unusual sort of person, in his sixth year of astrophysics. He was initially a star student that checked all the pages of what a model student should be, but after discovering cocaine at one of the frat parties he was invited to, he turned himself into a full-blown junkie. You’d remember joking about bringing a gas mask every time you visited him. Though you weren’t opposed to the consumption of recreational drunks, Dan’s habits were too much for any sane human being to handle.
“And he’s an absolute druggie,” Jongseong spat, rolling his eyes at the stories he would often hear about him. Luca had a complicated relationship with Dan; he was prone to avoid and detest his habits while saving his contact information for his weekly supply.
“That’s why he’s fun. Man’s a musical genius when he’s out of it.” You replied, pointing your fingers and jabbing them at Jongseong’s chest to emphasize your point.
Stories from around campus like to paint Dan as a misunderstood musical genius who can only work once he’s blazed out enough, but one cannot deny the talent he has for music. A popular story that immortalized him into a legend is how he was able to craft an entire EP in one night, with nothing but an acoustic guitar, a shoddy microphone, and an entire bag of hash. It was an overnight hit in the DIY community, but the problem with the sudden fame came with his lack of stage presence and memory. Most of the songs he makes come from his subconscious, so when he did get performance opportunities, the best he could do is turn them down unless he could play in front of a crowd completely inebriated. In the few moments that he did show up to perform, he wouldn’t even sing. He would simply stand in front of the stage and apologize profusely, laughing at himself while offering the audience some of his homemade DMT.
“Are you guys open?” A nasally, shrill voice suddenly interrupted their brief celebration.
Both of you turned your heads to the open truck window to see a sun-tanned, red-faced mother with a pixie cut. She had sunglasses on to hide her eyes, but you and Jongseong could imagine what someone like her would look like without them—a typical suburban mother who was probably a religious conservative.
“Uh… Yeah. We are.” Jongseong replied, while you hastily scuttled to the front of the counter.
“Great. My kids have been in line for like, three minutes, and we were wondering if you guys were employees or not.”
She raised each vowel with a nasal quality that scratched both of your ears, and it took all of you and Jongseong’s restraint to prevent yourselves from physically covering them. You skimmed through the glovebox to put on a pair of transparent, plastic gloves, then you skipped around the coolers to get the ice cream ready whilst simultaneously opening the countless containers of toppings to choose from.
“Sorry for the wait.” You said, giving the customer a cheeky, ear-to-ear smile.
“Oh, it’s fine. I’m sure you two had such an important conversation to the point where you’d ignore your customers!”
The mother had a smug grin on her face, and she ushered her two children to the front of the truck. One was a little girl who tiptoed towards the counter, giving her server a wide grin. The other was a bored, pre-pubescent boy who spent his time in the shade playing with his phone. Returning the mother’s grin with an equally condescending smile, you gripped the metallic scoop as tight as you could to prevent yourself from getting fired.
“So, can I get your order?” You asked, in a tone that was too saccharine.
“The little one would like a… what’s that sweetie? Oh, right. Okay.”
The mother crouched to pick her child up. With bright eyes, she pointed at the tub filled with chocolate ice cream. The mother then screamed at her bored son—whose name was either Clark or Mark—and scoffed at the lack of attention she received.
Kids these days, right?
“The little one would like a single scoop of this one, and the boy right there would like two scoops of this one, and this one.”
“So that’s a single scoop of Kokomo, and two scoops of Barbara Ann and California Girls?”
The mother cocked her head to the side in confusion, probably trying to conjure up a smart response. In the end, she resigned to her lack of knowledge of the flavor system and heaved a small, dejected sigh.
“Yeah… one scoop of the chocolate one, and two scoops of the berry-flavored ones.” She repeated, adding weight to her cadence as she watched you effortlessly mark each flavor down with the tip of your metal scoop.
In a swift motion, you prepared two waffle cones on the premeditated stand. Then, you washed the scoop with ease as you quickly filled the cones with the necessary flavors. As a treat, you placed a tiny Oreo cookie on the little girl’s order for being the only nice customer out of the three in the family.
“Here you go!”
With the force the mother grabbed the cones, you were surprised that they didn’t break in her grasp. The little girl hastily took her share and thanked her server, while the son gave the truck employees a quick nod of approval before stuffing his phone in his shorts’ pocket. Before you were able to turn back to your new workmate, the mother cleared her throat.
“So, is your manager around?”
Ah yes, the dreaded question.
While you were somewhat nervous, to say the least, you masked your apprehension with the professionalism of an actor. Serving her another condescending smile, you leaned on the counter to meet the mother at an eye-to-eye level. Jongseong watched the intense staring contest from behind with a perfect blend of interest and fear. It was his first part-time job, and he was already getting a complaint. Luckily, Williams didn’t seem to be a guy who cared. The only thing that overwhelmed him at the moment is the irrational fear of failure that every East Asian had to go through under the cages of their tiger parents.
“No, ma’am.” You sternly replied, keeping the same smile on your face. The mother tried to hide her frustration, giving her a nod of understanding.
“I see. Well, I’d like to have a talk, so can you pass this number up?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As the mother’s figure shrunk into a mere dot in the vast ocean of beach patrons, she tore up the paper and shoved the pieces in her pocket. In an instant, her overtly friendly smile turned into a scowl, which induced another layer of fear in Jongseong.
“Wow…” You whispered and sighed at the same time, whistling a tune that sounded like a deflated balloon.
“What a fucking bitch. Karens, I tell you.” He replied, sharing the sentiment. The scowl that was painted on your face was now replaced with drained fatigue.
“I get a Karen on my first shift. Great.”
“Wait, this is your first shift?” Jongseong suddenly asked, prompting you to regain some of your energy back. You gave him a curt, yet confused nod, almost as if you weren’t sure if this was your first shift or not anymore.
“Yeah? I opened the truck at around nine in the morning, and then you came by about two hours later.”
“So we’re both first-timers today, huh,” Jongseong replied, softening his gaze at the rare moment of solidarity that the two of you shared.
“Yep,” You answered back, raising your fist to bump it between his bony, calloused knuckles.
The two of you decided to put your differences aside and shared a high five of newfound friendship, crossing each of your fingers in prayer to thwart the plague of Karens that occupied the beach. While his first customer was an undesirable one, he could see himself working like this for two months straight. He always had a co-worker to complain to, and a bottomless pit of popsicle packs to devour as a relief method—overall, a fine first day.
Thankfully, the two of you only dealt with a single Karen for the day. Most of the customers were patient enough to wait when the two of you weren’t paying attention, and half the time, you and Jongseong retained a sense of awareness to automatically cease all conversation as soon as one of you sensed an incoming customer. Both of your quick adaptability to the job can be rationalized by your respective youthfulness, but it surprised you and Jongseong to know that your intuition was still reliable. In the digital age, many young people are rather tone-deaf to basic social cues—and for the two of you, it was a celebratory event to witness your primal instinct retain its ancient abilities.
Before you and Jongseong knew it, an entire day had passed. Dusk was slowly turning into evening, and the marmalade streak of clouds transformed into a deeper shade of vibrant violet. The sun’s beaming rays were no longer visible, save for the sudden rise of the earth’s natural satellite serving as a beam to ease humans into the enigma of nighttime. There was a distant lighthouse by the end of the shore that ceased to turn on its artificial beam, and for now, the building served as an idle attraction that conjured an eerie air of mystery around its dark perimeters. It took a while for the two of you to notice the dull, off-white tower, but you and Jongseong quickly diverted your attention to the act of closing the truck.
In a single day, the two of you were able to find a lot in common with each other. One would be your utter hatred for Karens, but another rare similarity was your love for childish pranks. The entire day was spent turning the car radio on for a spooky thrill or two, or adding wasabi-flavored ice cream inside a can of Mountain Dew. Penalties for succumbing to the prank led to embarrassing, yet extremely vivid memories that would stick with you and Jongseong throughout the summer and beyond. In an imaginary tally that both of you kept within the back of your heads, it was you who raked in more victories than Jongseong. At this point, your camera roll was filled with Jongseong falling face-flat from his surfboard, his failed attempts at flirting with a beach bombshell that was way too out of his league, and his improvised rap song about ice cream whilst serving two scoops to a group of children.
“Do it like the people at Coldstone!” You screamed while holding your phone upright, slowly zooming into his reluctant face as he tried to rhyme simple words together. The kids seem to share the same sentiment as you, ridiculing him as he did his best to spit decent bars that would probably end up in a top-ten list of impeccably terrible freestyles. You reckoned his poor attempt at becoming the next Eminem would rival that of a notorious YouTuber rapping about being a misfit and banana splits.
Despite you and Jongseong’s seemingly ill-natured games, the two of you managed to strike an odd friendship that would help him get through two months of serving ice cream in the hellish heat of Los Angeles. It’s gotten to a point where both of you were entirely synchronized with your respective movements. While you were the master scooper of the duo, Jongseong had a unique eye for decorations. While some of his designs can be considered crude, it was the reaction of the children that mattered. For the most part, they loved his failed attempts at dotting a smiley face with sprinkles or using crushed walnuts to decorate the perfectly circular surface of an ice cream scoop with a so-called “rocket ship.”
With both of your first shifts filled with embarrassing videos of each other on your phones, you and Jongseong ended the day by scanning through a set of rules that Williams had left hanging on a gift shop magnet by one of the many iceboxes in the truck.
Welcome to Inlet Waves! Unfortunately, I’ll be absent for most of your time at the truck, so here are some ground rules that I need you to follow:
Stay sanitized. We don’t want a complaint now, do we?
For as long as you have the keys, don’t open the doors to customers or strangers. The inside of the truck is only accessible to employees and employees only.
This truck was designed to accommodate two employees, so please follow the third clause.
Do your job, and stay on time. You usually have one hour dedicated to breaks, but make sure to come back around three to five minutes before your break ends.
Once you close up the truck, please don’t come back until your next shift. Even if you forget a valuable item, wait until the next day to retrieve it.
Make sure to use the triple lock function when you close the truck. All windows have to be closed shut.
Failure to do all this will result in immediate unemployment. Trust me, I’ll know.
You took the piece of loose leaf paper stuck on the icebox, pointing at the third and sixth points in the impromptu handbook that dictated your life at the truck. Jongseong simply shrugged the rules off, eyeing the truck’s interior one last time before exiting through the back door.
During the day, the ice cream truck blended well with the summer scenery. It was an integral piece of decor in the painted blues of the clear skies, and the sweet treats that it served were the pinnacle of the season’s cuisine. At the dawn of dusk, however, the entire atmosphere surrounding the truck took an ominous turn; instead of laughing children that buried themselves in the sand, silence filled the air with the ambiance of crashing waves; the reflection of the sun’s rays on the sea’s surface was now a singular, low beam that guided lost ships in the absence of the rundown, dilapidated lighthouse; the vast, beige stretches of sand were dyed in a shade of murky gravel; the dispersal of concentrated crowds left the shoreline in an emptiness that accentuated the minuscule size of the human body. All in all, it was a different dimension separate from the shackles of reality—a world of its own that lives and breathes with a certain sentience, looming with the dark veils of the unknown.
By this point, the sun has completely set, and the only human beings that occupied the beach were the two employees of Inlet Waves. The only noise that could be audible aside from your small footsteps were the crescendoes of the roaring waves. Each interval signified the passage of time, dying the grey sands in a darker shade along with the diffusion of deep, navy hues in the sky.
“Any others aside from us?” Jongseong asked, clasping the truck door with a rusted padlock. He entered the combination that was hastily written beside the set of rules posted on the icebox, releasing it entirely once a click echoed throughout the entire coast.
“I asked Williams about it, but he said we’re the only ones running this truck.” You replied, remembering the second point in the impromptu rulebook.
This truck was designed to accommodate two employees, so please follow the third clause.
Sure, an ice cream truck could be operated by a single person, but you couldn’t pinpoint a specific reason why there had to be two people in the truck. You didn’t mind your workmate, and you certainly enjoyed his company. What bothered you about the vagueness in Williams’ pointers was the emphasis on two employees. The truck was large enough to accommodate a dozen people at maximum—and to your understanding, there was certainly no harm in allowing children to experience the inner workings of the truck. Sure, parents were always cautious of a big white van, and cases of kidnapping have persisted along the shoreline for as long as the beaches existed. You wouldn’t blame Williams for exercising caution and saving himself from bad business, but you still found it odd that he, the manager of the truck, couldn’t be with you and Jongseong to actively monitor your performance and see if both of you were doing your job or not. What Williams meant by two employees also left a lot of questions that you wanted adequate answers to. For instance, were you and Jongseong the only employees? Or did the truck’s shift work on a rotational basis, allowing two people per day to occupy it? The absence of a timetable detailing each employee’s schedule could only point to a single oddity—in particular, you and Jongseong were the only employees for two months.
Two whole months.
“Really?” Jongseong asked aloud, sharing the same bewilderment as the pulsating inner thoughts that zoomed in bolts within your head.
“Yep. Just us,” You answered, scratching your head in confusion as you continued to look for anything that resembled a schedule or a timetable.
“When I applied for the job, I initially thought there were only two spots left because of how popular the job is. I didn’t think that two spots literally meant just two spots.”
You tried to recall the conversation you had with Williams during your application process. The old man was extremely vague and hasty with his answers to all of your questions—and to this day, you still couldn’t comprehend what he meant when he added an extra emphasis on the “two employees” aspect of the job.
“Same, dude. That’s probably why they increased the wages, since no one was applying.”
In unison, the two of you craned your necks backward, eyeing the dwindling figure of the truck with suspicion and heightened wariness. Without the presence of sun-tanned bodies of all sizes, the air around the truck gained a subtle hint of solemnity. The entire scene was almost out of a cliche horror film, where the truck—which was strategically placed in the middle of the shoreline—would hungrily wait for innocently imbecilic youths to succumb to its enigmatic allure. The two of you tried to convince yourselves that in the end, the truck was just a truck. Its keys were safely tucked within the confines of you and Jongseong’s respective pockets, and realistically, nothing can activate it so long as Williams returns with the car keys. Even then, the two of you couldn’t shake off the trickling fear that climbed up each of your spines, anticipating the sudden double beam from the headlights or the aggressive hums of an engine rearing up into action. As such, both of you began to pick up your pace whilst wearing a mask of false bravado. You and Jongseong’s moderate tempo gradually turned into a slight sprint as both of you scuttled towards the entrance to take refuge within the artificial lighting of a sparse parking lot behind the City of Angels.
“Apparently, the wages have always been like that,” You said, catching your breath. From both of your current views, the truck was no longer visible. The only thing in your line of sight was the off-white rustic finish of the distant lighthouse and the dark sea that reflected the moon’s low beam.
“Really?” Jongseong asked, hunching down to hold and calm his shaky knees down. For someone that enjoyed the occasional visits to the gym, he was surprised by his sudden lack of stamina. You kept yourself right next to him, eyes quickly glancing back between the wooden docks that led back into a horizon of artificial, neon stars and the traces of sand that led back to the truck. Despite the irrationally spine-chilling situation that you got yourselves into, you tried your best to make the most out of it. The image of someone like him standing next to a behemoth like Luca certainly uplifted your current apprehensive state. You stifled a bout of laughter that threatened to escape your lips, grinning at the thought of Luca as a monster from the sea chasing Jongseong out of the beach.
“When I called him, I kinda wanted to clear out any suspicions to make sure I didn’t apply for a scam or something. He said that the hourly wage has been like that since he started the business and that every year, he only needed two employees to get the job done.”
You replied, tracing your memories back to the initial phone call you had with Williams. The pressing concern of his heavy emphasis on “two employees” still plagued your head with endless questions, despite having your initial qualms hastily and vaguely answered with a gruff timbre. Two employees seemed adequate in the eyes of a mom-and-pop ice cream truck, and the high hourly wage certainly limited a small business to hire as few employees as possible. So far, the truck itself didn’t seem to be crowded with a plethora of customers, so you initially believed that you could manage with Jongseong just fine. The only thing that continued to push your buttons was the sustainability of it all. If, in the case of an emergency, both of you were unavailable, then will that lead to the truck suspending its activities for the entire day? Or will Williams take matters into his own hands and cover you and Jongseong’s shift? Life was filled with surprises, and one cannot necessarily predict a car accident or a bad case of heatstroke.
“Damn. If he only needed two, I wonder why there aren’t any repeaters? I’m sure with such a high wage, people would be willing to work as ice cream scoopers forever.”
“Well, yeah—but then again, this is a short-time gig. I don’t think you can make a stable income off of something that only happens in the summer or something.”
“True.” He nodded. Once the two of you managed to recover from your arbitrary sprint, you made your way to the only sanctuary that the two of you knew—the golden arches. The sight of the sign alone made you and Jongseong’s stomachs impatiently grumble for sustenance—clearly, ice cream and popsicles weren’t the best substitutes for a full meal.
“So that’s about two-ish months with you, huh?” He suddenly asked, hovering his feet to the automatic doors that led them to a cornucopia of oily, deep-fried finger foods.
“Yep.” You replied with a curt nod, feasting your eyes on the picturesque, neon-lit menu above the counter. Taking your phone out, you hastily scrolled for a coupon you could use. Even if fast food was cheap, the hardships of a tight budget got the best of you. What can you say? You’re just one of many first-world youths who didn’t have enough money to buy proper groceries.
“You know, you’re not that bad as a co-worker.”
Jongseong took his wallet out and prepared his credit card. The last time he checked its balance was about two weeks ago, when he needed to repair his phone’s screen after a hazy night. How he broke it was a mystery he still couldn’t solve to this day, but his mind wasn’t in the right place to think about the event at all. What mattered to him right now was to stuff his face with meat that came from who knows where.
“Woah, no deal dude. No deal,” You replied with disgust, shaking your phone in the air as you slightly stepped back to exaggerate your point. The glows of your smartphone revealed a buy one, get one campaign for regular fries. Jongseong should definitely get the app sometime; he was already an advocate and a regular customer for the shitty coffee they brewed using unethically-sourced beans.
“Bro, calm down,” He exclaimed, widening his eyes and returning your disgust tenfold. “I’m not trying to get into your pants or anything. You’re not my type at all.”
“Thank fuck!” You celebrated, throwing your hands in the air as the neon yellow sign laced with curves that formed the letter M drew closer and closer. “Anyway, if it’s not the pants, then what do you want?”
Taking a few seconds of silence for dramatic effect, you huffed a sigh of immense relief. Workplace romance wasn’t in your best interest, especially with a boy who aligned himself with the buffoonery of a fraternity.
When you and Jongseong entered the establishment, the line stretched up to the tip of the door—which opened and closed with each movement the two of you made. Now, it was your turn to order, and you slightly bowed your head before shoving the digital coupon on the cashier’s face. This was understandable—even if the body of a college student survived a few days of dry fasting. The combination of intense heat waves and a relatively high sugar intake naturally spiked both your appetites a lot faster than usual.
“Your name?” He asked. “We’re working together for a while, so might as well give me something to call you, or else I’m gonna have to resort to ‘pothead’ or ‘Dan’s bitch.’”
You tossed your backpack on top of a nearby seat, keeping a watchful eye in case it miraculously disappears. While your phone and wallet were in the safety of your short pockets, your backpack had a precious commodity that would plunge you into an endless era of depression if it were to suddenly vanish. It wasn’t the collection of hand-drawn chemical formulas within the thick binders of her notebook, nor was it the bomber jacket you recently purchased from a nearby thrift store—it was, of course, your Nintendo Switch. How else were you going to keep yourself busy on the bus ride home? What would happen to your infinite hours of Dark Souls or Mario Kart on the console? The thought alone made you shudder, for you were well aware of your looming, brooding addiction to the game.
“Ew to both,” You replied, keeping your neck craned towards your unprotected backpack. With hawkish glued to the empty seats occupied by your bag, you stuffed your hands in your pocket and fished out your university ID, giving him a couple of seconds to read each alphabet of your name. Once you heard him heave a satisfied hum, you placed your ID within the linings of your phone case, patting it twice to ensure its safety.
“Yep, definitely never heard that name around campus,” He said. You shrugged once for acknowledgment and twice to massage the tenseness that developed around your shoulders. The two of you took your trays from the counter and plopped yourselves on the hard, plastic chairs of the restaurant. For an added measure of security, you placed your tie-dye backpack on your lap, hugging it with one arm to convince yourself that all was not lost.
“I like to lay low,” You finally mustered under bated breath.
“A+ for effort then.” He replied, waving a fry to your face.
In a world-breaking record of speed eating, the two of you have managed to finish your meals. For Jongseong, it was no surprise that you devoured your burger in one go. After all, this was the same girl that bit into popsicles; your teeth were probably numb to all forms of culinary textures. On the other hand, it was somewhat entertaining for you to see your lean, yet muscular workmate stuff a Big Mac in his mouth. Even if he didn’t have Luca’s exact physical build of bulky masculinity, his appetite was probably enough to propel him into the stratosphere of the fraternity.
“Wait, if we have to be here every day, then what will happen to the rest of my summer?” He suddenly asked, folding an empty burger wrapper into a lopsided airplane. Jongseong had already reserved tickets to Coachella, spending at least half of his allowance to see his favorite rappers live.
“You can attend those and just stop by whenever you’re free,” You replied with a reassuring smile. Your schedule was pretty much a blank canvas. There were a few basement shows and tavern gigs lined up that you had to attend, but you could cancel those anytime. There was only so much you could do to support your friends, and it wasn’t like they took things personally. In fact, your free spot could probably turn into extra profit if you decided to take your name off their RSVP list.
“I don’t have a lot going on so I think I’ll be working nine-to-five every day.”
Your face suddenly twisted into a frenzy as you took your phone out of your pocket. In an immediate act of empathy, Jongseong lent his power bank—something you took with fervent gratitude. It was a testament to your generation to automatically know when someone’s phone was hanging on its last life, and you commended Jongseong for having basic levels of contemporary common sense. Once you started to feel the electric buzz that permeated from your phone, you opened your calendar to show him your sparse schedule. He eyed each date with envy, prompting you to physically rub your phone screen on his long, protruded nose.
“I thought you were doing premed.”
“Biochem—but anyway, I want a proper summer vacation, you know?” You corrected, rolling your eyes at the common mistake. “I can’t be assed to study every single day, first’s year’s already been so tough.”
In a moment of silence, both of you extended your prayers to a bleak future of dedicating your youth to academic excellence and corporate slavery. The transition from general education into a narrow, more specific route certainly caught both of you off-guard—but it was a matter of committing to a specialized path that continued to overwhelm your age group with doubt. Humans were spontaneous creatures, and especially with the emphasis on self-discovery, it wasn’t out of the question to impulsively switch majors or drop out of university altogether. Although not a single word was uttered between you and Jongseong, both of you were fully aware of the heavy weight that tipped your scales in favor of the path you’ve chosen for yourselves at the very start—even if, eventually, the trials and errors you’d faced with would prompt you and Jongseong to yearn for an escape.
“Man, if only I wasn’t caught high out of my mind by my parents, I wouldn’t be stuck with this stupid job.” He said, heaving a sigh to end your momentary period of prayer.
“I’m not your therapist, dude. Take that to the uni’s counseling services or something.”
“Rude.”
With a single shrug, you hoisted your backpack strap to your shoulders, carrying your empty tray with your free hand. Jongseong gave you a puzzled look, before succumbing to peer pressure and picking his own tray up. After the two of you dumped your trash into its designated area, you stacked your trays up, causing most of the restaurant’s patrons to eye the two of you with a blend of curiosity and bewilderment. You slightly bowed and mustered a quiet sorry to the employees stationed at the cashier, tightening the straps of your backpack to make sure it doesn’t fall off your back. You took your phone out to search for the nearest bus stop, prompting Jongseong to shake his hand towards it. He pointed his thumb to the bus stop right in front of the restaurant, and you offered to walk with him—this was met with boisterous teasing on his end, but you managed to thwart each attempt with petty blackmail.
“So, what’s Williams like?” He asked, stuffing his hands in his pocket. The next bus would arrive in thirty minutes, allowing both of you to do as you please with your sudden abundance of free time. You clandestinely took a cigarette box out of your backpack, checking your parameters until you could securely revel in the act of damaging your lungs.
“Never met him.” You replied, lighting a cigarette against his direction.
“Really?” He asked. You offered one to him, but he turned it down with a polite nod. Something about his mother raising him to never partake in smoking even if he drank to the detriment of his liver drove the point in you to continue huffing and breathing the murky smoke in your mouth.
“Yeah dude, I don’t think we’ll ever see him. It’s one of those rare jobs where you just get paid and never see the boss.”
You momentarily turned your back on him, huffing a swirl of smoke that danced in the humid summer air.
“Is that even possible?”
“I don’t know—then again, I don’t really care. As long as I get the money I’m pretty much set.”
A police siren was heard from the distance, prompting you to stuff your lighter in your pocket. The half-lit cigarette was now on the ground, which you stubbed with your sandals’ heels. In an effort to contain your bad habits, you zipped the cigarette box into the safety of your backpack’s front pocket.
“I don’t blame you, dude. I feel the same.”
“Anyway, what time are you coming tomorrow?”
The police car, painted in anti-colors, zoomed past the bus stop in a frantic drive. Jongseong pulled his phone out to check his timetable, then relayed the necessary information to his new co-worker.
“Around eleven-ish or twelve? I have brunch with some of the brothers, so I could drop by at around noon or something.”
“Aight, gotcha. See you, dude.”
The bus’ engine whirred with fervor, giving her the cue to leave. With a quick salute, you pulled a compact, plastic charging case, stuffing your ears with two, white buds. Jongseong hopped into the bus, returning your gesture of farewell with a traditional wave. As the bus closed its doors and regained momentum, he realized he’s forgotten the most important aspect of a newfound friendship.
Your number.
Eventually, Jongseong was able to obtain your contact information through a slew of awkward questions and fervent teasing on your end. As an added bonus, he also received your Playstation ID, adding a nightly routine of Destiny raids and Warzone matches to his timetable. While you vehemently refused to join his team due to your complete aversion to frat boys, he, on the other hand, managed to put his preconceptions aside to join your Discord server full of potheads. Truth be told, your circle did have the better players, so he found himself making excuses to abstain from attending frat-organized game nights of beer and pool. It also didn’t help that their brand of humor tickled him to infinite depths in comparison to his current group of friends, further tempting him to switch allegiances once and for all.
Breaks and any type of free time the two of you had at the ice cream truck were spent playing PUBG or—dare you say it—Clash of Clans on your phones until your battery died out—which eventually led to anger-fueled Smash Bros matches on your Switch. The game was notorious for being the harbinger of doom in friendships and relationships alike, so naturally, each match almost always ended in either one or the other rage-quitting. Both parties managed to exercise restraint, but the urge to hurl the controller out into the beach increased with each decisive loss. Between you and Jongseong, you were more adept with the roster of characters the game had to offer. In your case, however, you had more time to practice by fighting against CPUs on bus rides to and from campus. Your fingers were also extremely familiar with the location of the buttons, so it was a matter of muscle memory and a heightened reaction time that aided you in your quest for victory. Acknowledging the lack of balance between you and Jongseong, you initially offered to play your worst character, Bayonetta. In exchange, you gave him time to practice and experiment with the roster until he could find someone he was comfortable with. Despite this, however, you managed to win four consecutive matches before he reluctantly forfeited.
“I’ll get my own Switch, and I’ll avenge Samus with all my heart.” He said, balling his fists with faux fury.
“If you do get your own Switch, you better start practicing ASAP. I’ve been too nice to you in our matches.” You replied, tucking your Switch back inside your signature tie-dye backpack.
Of course, the two of you managed to do your job despite the many distractions. Your peripheral vision never ceased to betray you, so you’d usually pause a match five minutes before a customer walks to the counter. You and Jongseong also set timers in your phones—if the battery was safely charging in one of the truck’s many outlets—to give your brains some rest. Dormancy aside, the unbridled rage that came with losing a Smash Bros match made Jongseong’s blood rise faster to the head than the hot and humid weather of Los Angeles. If he didn’t want to risk a potential stroke, then he had to allow his mind to cool down from his expected defeat against your years of skill.
He’s already suffered enough from the embarrassing penalties you’d often subject him to in your ongoing prank war with him, but the added weight of losing against you in games doubled his suffering tenfold. At this rate, your phone was filled with snippets of Jongseong’s penance—such as, but not limited to: Serenading a group of bikini-clad teenage girls with a toy ukulele from the gift shop; improvising cringy raps that paled in comparison to the professionals at Coldstone Creamery; cracking a “deez nuts” joke whenever a customer chose cashews or pistachios for their toppings; walking around the beach in daisy dukes for a solid hour; reading “The Communist Manifesto” out loud in front of a beach patron that sported a MAGA hat; shouting the lyrics to “I Want it That Way” by the Backstreet Boys on the way back to the ice cream truck after getting temporary frosted tips at a nearby salon.
Next to the set of rules that Williams pinned on the ice box was a compact whiteboard with a magnetic pen attached in its corner. The lines that etched the once pristine canvas of the whiteboard encompassed all of Jongseong’s cringe-worthy moments. One may think that most of the tally detailed the relentless social torture that he was subjected to, but it’s an equal balance between your cruelty and his failed attempts at basic flirting. Whenever a woman that looked your age managed to stop by the truck, he would always try to strike unnecessary conversations that eventually lead to first-degree second-hand embarrassment. One time, he tried to compliment a girl by calling her “shawty”—which didn’t end too well. The girl called her boyfriend, and if it wasn’t for your act of mercy, he would’ve been pummeled to death. Charity wasn’t the sole reason for your sudden act of kindness either—you were just following company policy, i.e., rule number three in the loose leaf paper of Williams’ sloppy handwriting. Either way, this somehow didn’t stop Jongseong in his pursuit of a summer fling, and he would continuously use his time at the counter to prove that he was perhaps the worst casanova in town.
“Do you want the tally, bitch boy?” You asked, taking the whiteboard out from the ice box. As you added another line to the whiteboard, your eyes trailed behind a group of girls walking away from the shop in shorts and crop tops, each carrying a waffle cone with vibrant scoops of fruity ice cream. The two of you huddled in a corner to take several pictures of their order—which eventually ended in unsatisfactory shots and a melted pool of sticky sugar. Jongseong had made a miserable attempt at trying to obtain their social media, with the forbidden tactic of dad jokes utilized in his pursuit.
Today was a Sunday, and to you and Jongseong’s surprise, both of you never got an influx of customers waiting to buy a scoop or two of ice cream. A Sunday also meant that the two of you had nothing going on, so you spent the entire day lazing around the truck, either playing PUBG with Jongseong on your phone or pulling childish pranks on each other. It was a slow day like usual, and approximately seven days were enough for Jongseong to fully retire from his quest to defeat you in Smash Bros. He decided it was best for him to wait until his paycheck arrived, so he could get his own Switch and practice with Zero Suit Samus—no, not the regular kind. Zero Suit Samus.
“Fuck off.” He replied, abruptly taking his latex gloves off and tossing them in a nearby trash can.
“I wrote you a tally, Jay. Come on, look,”
YOU RULE:
YOU SUCK: IIII IIII I
“That’s not fair!” He exclaimed, trying to take the whiteboard off your hands. You held it up high while hastily backing away from him, feet memorizing the truck’s interior. In a short game of cat and mouse, you were the victor again, using the complementary strings behind the compact whiteboard to hang it in a location that was too high for both of you to reach into. Your vehement, gaudy cackles gradually replaced the mellow tones of The Beach Boys that were playing from the truck’s rundown radio, which seeped out from the open windows and into the vast stretches of sand. A few patrons nearby turned their heads towards the two, causing you to cease your laughter with a polite apology and a wave of amicability.
“Nothing’s fair in life, Jay. Suck it up and accept that you suck.” You said with a kick of venom in your cadence, pointing to the tally above one of the truck’s shelves with pride.
“Well, if I suck, you swallow.” He replied, using his fingers to imitate a blowjob.
“At least I won’t get pinkeye.”
“Fuck you.”
He held the sacred middle finger in the air—which you politely returned with two of your own. Using your proximity to one of the coolers in the truck, you absent-mindedly opened its doors to satisfy your daily popsicle intake.
“I still get the last word, since that doesn’t count as proper banter.”
“Whatever. There’s someone walking towards the truck so we should probably stop talking.”
From the corner of you and Jongseong’s eyes, you could see a couple walking toward the counter. In a quick game of rock paper scissors, you heaved a sigh of defeat. You didn’t mind the role of serving customers at all; it was more so the fact that your succession of victories was finally broken. Fetching a pair of latex gloves from a box, you rolled your eyes at your co-worker, who was currently doing his best to retrieve the whiteboard. Once it was in his hands, he flipped it on its empty side to start tallying your losses.
YOU SUCK ASS: I
YOU SUCK DICK:
“Yeah, but it’s not a Karen, so we’re good I guess.”
Before the couple arrived to take their order, you gave Jongseong one more measly middle finger. He covertly returned it in the tiny gaps of the corner, plotting his revenge for all the times you’ve made him suffer. Maybe this time, he’ll finally have his own camera roll filled with your embarrassing moments.
Maybe.
What would have been a slow day was replaced with a surge of patrons taking refuge in the cool sensations of freshly-served ice cream. Before the two of you knew it, you were speed-serving waffle cones and cups in quick succession, maximizing the wideness of the counter to its fullest. Perhaps this was what Williams meant when he specifically stated his need for two employees and two employees only. If there were four or five people in the truck, the counter would be crowded with scoopers trying to do their job. In a sense, two people were just enough to allow maximum arm span utilization.
“Hey, do you know why Williams tells us not to go back to the truck once we officially close up?” Jongseong suddenly asked, heaving a sigh of relief upon the hypothetical end to their version of a rush hour. He pointed at the loose leaf paper pinned on an ice box, idly fluttering to the hums of the truck’s blizzard of an air conditioning system.
You quickly shrugged your shoulders, covertly holding a palm up below the counter. Mouthing the words ‘wait,’ you diverted your attention back to the line of customers that waited for their order. He flashed you an ‘okay’ sign, and checked the time on an analog clock sitting idly by the glass containers filled with colorful flavors. Using his chin to point at the clock, you nodded your head in his direction, arms already on autopilot as you scooped up the last remains of vanilla and rum raisin ice cream.
“No… Should we ask him?” You replied after serving two waffle cones to a pair of men in vibrant speedos. From their accent and rather skimpy attire, you were able to infer that they might be from Europe, where nudist beaches existed en masse.
“Dude… I have a gut feeling he won’t tell us.”
“True. He seemed kinda dodgy on the phone call about me asking too many questions.”
You took your phone out to scroll through your contacts, only to find that Williams’ number had completely disappeared. Jongseong explained to you that he experienced the same thing, and opened up the site where he found the job listing for the truck. He brightened his screen for you to see, and typed Inlet Waves on the search bar. Upon three to four refreshes, both of you found nothing at all. Not a single trace of the initial listing, nor the contact information could be seen on the site. He then tried searching the words ice cream, only to have a slew of listings for Coldstone Creamery or Baskin Robbins, followed by a handful of mom-and-pop businesses that didn’t have the same name as the truck they currently work for. The need for another employee could rationalize the sudden disappearance of the listing on the site, but the qualm about Williams’ number couldn’t possibly be answered by such a simple reason.
How did his number magically disappear from both of their phones? To their knowledge, the only way to erase a number from their contact is to manually do it themselves—both of which had a clear recollection that they didn’t.
“What the fuck…” The two of you exclaimed in unison, going so far as to restart your phones to redo the process. After a few minutes of opening and closing the contacts app, the two of you realized that all attempts were futile.
“How the hell do we talk to him about emergencies, then?” You asked in frustration.
Jongseong knitted his brows in apprehension, shrugging his shoulders in response to your question.
“I mean we’re sacrificing some of our break time, but we could try looking for it? Like, open up the drawers or something?”
You nodded your head to his suggestion, and the two of you set a timer for thirty minutes. A part of you knew it was a lost cause, but on the offhand, if one of you eventually finds his contact laying around somewhere, then he could finally be reached to answer all the questions boiling in both of your heads.
“You search that part, and I’ll search around here.”
You proceeded to board the shutters down on the counter, stepping out of the truck to prop up a foldable with the words “closed” etched in white chalk. Once you returned, you found Jongseong on your side of the truck, flipping through the loose leaf paper that acted as your general handbook for the job. He beckoned for you to come to his part of the truck, and you shuffled your feet to the ice box. Hidden behind the loose leaf paper of rules were a set of contacts that detailed several landline phone numbers. Pausing the timer on your phone, you pinched your nose in dejection at the extremely simple solution to their overblown woes. Jongseong tried to stifle a bout of laughter, but ended up covering his face with his hands, shaking his head at the unforeseen revelation.
USE FOR EMERGENCY CONTACTS ONLY:
213-555-0127
213-555-0117
213-555-0825
To think that the answer was just right there, within the confines of the loose leaf paper plastered on the ice box that the two of you see every day, made your blood boil with embarrassment. Truly, you’d traded off your common sense with the prestige of higher-level education.
“Holy fucking shit forty-thousand.”
“I know, dude. I know.”
Disappointed that Jongseong didn’t get the reference, you hastily pulled the loose leaf paper out from the magnetic confines of a cheesy gift shop souvenir. Jongseong took his phone and dialed the first number in the list of digits written in the corner. After five rings, the two of you were greeted by William’s gruff voice.
“Why did you call? Shouldn’t you be at work?”
Jay muted the phone for a brief second, trying to process the fact that his boss actually picked up. This wasn’t a ruse, and the two of you finally had the opportunity to interrogate him. The only problem though, is that your minds were completely empty upon hearing Williams’ voice. Despite the fact that a comprehensive list of endless questions plagued your heads, all of them seemed to evaporate in an instant upon the phone call’s initiation.
“Keep it on speaker. I need to hear it too.” You whispered.
“Aight.”
You began to type up several questions that you tried to remember off the top of your head and gave Jongseong the cue to unmute the call. With a deep breath, he shakily pressed the ‘unmute’ button, eyes steadily kept on your phone to integrate the questions into their conversation.
“It’s a slow day today, Williams. Break just started too so I’m free.”
“Oh, right. Anyway why did you call?”
For a brief moment, the two of you stared at each other in a state of suppressed panic. You zoomed in on the question about closing up, and he gave you a curt nod before turning his attention back to the call.
“Uhm… I was just asking about the last rule? About forbidding us to go back to the truck once we close it?”
“Yeah, why?”
You tried to restrain yourself from interrupting the conversation. Clearly, you were the better improviser between the two. Biting into the tips of your nails, you mouthed the word ‘forgot’ to Jongseong, who thankfully understood what you implied.
“Well, for example, in the scenario where I forget something important, like a phone or the house keys, what do I do?”
You breathed a sigh of relief, covering your mouth to make sure your breath stayed within the confines of your palm.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait it out until the next shift."
“Well, why? What if I have class the next day, and I leave my laptop in the truck?”
Williams’ end of the line had the typical shuffling of papers that both of you experienced when you individually called him during the application process. He huffed with the breathlessness of a chain smoker, then proceeded to clear his throat. Jongseong did his best to stop his hand from shaking, and both of you peered at his phone screen in anticipation.
“It’s just the way it is, Park. Once a store closes, you don’t go back to get your stuff until the next day, right?”
Jongseong bit his lip to prevent a chuckle from escaping his lips. As he expected, Williams—just like a myriad of middle-aged professors in his university—would refer to him by his last name, thinking it was his first. At this rate, he didn’t know if “Parks and Recreation” was a better misnomer than “Jangsang.” You threw your head back in silence, balling your hands into fists as you chewed on your nails again.
“I’ve never worked a retail-related job, so to be honest, I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh. Well, that’s usually how it is. I’m just following protocol.”
“I understand. Thanks.” He curtly responded, masking his frustration with an audible smile.
“Anyway, bye, you two. Be sure to go back to work on time.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once the call ended, you frantically paced the truck back and forth, searching through every nook and cranny for a security camera. Jongseong caroused in a moment of silence, head buzzing with a million suspicions that were too alarming to confine within his skull. He tried to calm his co-worker down, tapping on your shoulder to dispel your agitated trance. It wasn’t until he threatened to break your Switch in half that you halted all movement, abruptly getting your arm stuck on a tiny slither before dusting your shorts off.
“He definitely knew I was listening in.” You said amidst breathless pants. He vigorously nodded, eyes scanning the entirety of the truck for added measure.
“Yeah, that’s kinda weird. I mean, I think I did say ‘us’ at some point, so he probably just assumed it or something? I hope?”
“I guess—but still, it’s kinda weird that he immediately knew I was there or something.”
To stay inside the truck after that entire ordeal was suffocating, to say the least. Although the two of you were the only employees, and you did call Williams on the job, it was still dubious to you and Jongseong that your boss specifically address the two of you. As such, you jogged to the back door of the truck, jingling your keys as a way to hurry your workmate up.
“To be fair, we’re the only ones working for the truck, but yeah, it is weird.” He said, once his feet touched the hot sand of the coast.
Using the triple lock function, you padlocked the handles tight, twisting the key to each designated area. Both of you attempted to open the door in unison, nodding to each other once you were sure that it was fully locked. You stuffed the keys in your shorts’ back pocket, eyeing the doors to the truck one more time before sprinting to the beach’s entrance. He followed suit, running as far as the winds took him. In some ways, this sudden sprint served as a method of anxiety relief, where the remnants of his doubts translated into an adrenaline rush.
The two of you rushed past scantily-clad patrons, reveling in the surge of energy that consumed them. With ten minutes of your break wasted on getting zero answers, you knew you had to spend the rest of your free time wisely.
“Do you think he’s watching us through a camera?” You whispered amidst heavy pants.
There wasn’t a need to check considering how far the two of you were from the truck. However, you reminded yourself of the seventh point written on the loose leaf paper by the ice box, bringing your unbridled fear back to the surface.
Failure to do all this will result in immediate unemployment. Trust me, I’ll know.
Mass surveillance across the entire shore was realistically impossible, and it was outrageous to do so for the sake of a mom-and-pop ice cream truck. Despite all your efforts to be pragmatic, you couldn’t swallow the effervescence of uncertainty that overwhelmed you.
“We’re working for a fucking ice cream truck. I doubt he’s gonna care.” He replied in a failed attempt to console your woes.
The two of you were now in front of a stall that displayed vibrant surfboards, each sporting its own distinct design. The colors swirled in a homogenous mixture akin to an acid trip, which led you to lean on one of the surfboards. A loud ‘thud’ echoed across their section of the beach, prompting an employee to slither out of the stall.
“You good braddah?” He asked. He was sun-tanned like most of the beach patrons in the vicinity, sporting a janky pooka shell necklace that gleamed brighter behind his skin. Jongseong greeted him with a shaka sign, showing his employee card afterward.
“We’d like to rent two surfboards if that’s okay.”
The employee, who fits the stereotype of a typical surfer, pointed at you with concern.
“Braddah, is she alright?” He asked, crossing his muscular arms in front of his equally well-toned chest.
“Yeah, she’s fine. I think it’s period cramps.”
You weakly stood up from your rested position, handing the surf shop employee your own card. Once he confirmed the authenticity of both cards by comparing them with his own, he led the two of you inside.
“Take your time braddah. Just pick a board that’s callin’ to ya,”
In an instant, you regained all your energy back and stood upright, waving the employee off with a smile. You grabbed a simplistic board with linear patterns of blue and yellow, safely tucking the flat, heavy plastic under your arm. Meanwhile, Jongseong is still struck by your rapid recovery, but he eventually shrugged it off to examine the plethora of board designs in front of him. While he wasn’t too well-versed with the types of surfboards and their functions, looking like a meticulous surfer in the eyes of the public was good enough.
“Well, I’ll try to ask Dan about the retail thing. He’s worked at Trader Joe’s and Coffee Bean, so he might know a thing or two.” You said, repeatedly poking Jongseong’s back with your board. He kicked your leg in retaliation, finally settling for a wooden board that was twice his height. Admittedly, he has surfed before, but he acknowledged that his current choice wouldn’t match his lack of skill at all. Nonetheless, he reckons that the sheer size of the board would make him look good—that is, of course, if he doesn’t fall off.
“Gotcha. I’ll also ask Heeseung to see if he knows anything about retail.”
The two of you performed a shaka sign as a gesture of farewell, which the employee returned with vigor.
“Catch the waves, braddah!” He shouted, clasping his large hands around his mouth as a makeshift megaphone. You flashed him a thumbs up before rolling your eyes at the cheesiness of it all.
In a sea of people that crowded the entirety of the beach, the two of you tried to find a spot that had enough space for you to cement your boards in the sand. The population density in their current area was so bad to the point where you eventually whacked the exposed backs of vacationing people with the hard plastic of your board. In this act of violence, it was Jongseong who measly bowed his head to muster a string of apologies, eventually slowing the hot-headed girl down with his own attack.
The two of you reach a part of the shoreline that was near your place of work, agreeing that you’ll return the boards when you close up the truck. Jongseong allows his board to fall flat on the sand, kicking it toward the gentle waves of the sea. You kicked your board upright, pensively gazing at your co-worker.
“Wait, you mean the Heeseung? As in, Heeseung Lee?” You asked, brows knitting with disbelief.
“Yeah, why?”
“You have links with someone like him?”
To emphasize your point, you took your hands and hoisted one of them up to a height that was remarkably taller than you. Then, you plunged your free hands as low as your mid-thigh, staring at him to indicate his moral standing against Heeseung.
“Well, he and I kinda go all the way back, so yeah, I guess.” He replied with a quick shrug.
“Jesus Jay, you surprise me every day.”
Kicking your own board down, you dropped the topic off as a truce between the two of you. Jongseong pushed himself further into the ocean, paddling his hands with the currents. Your dwindling figure was now a mere dot in the entirety of the coastline—which gave him the cue to stand up. Step by step, he familiarized his feet with the calm waves of the shore until he finds a workable point of balance that was comfortable enough for his stature. Surfing was something he hasn’t done in a while, and an expert could easily mark his lack of skill. For one, despite his perfect balance, his arms were too rigid. His posture wasn’t the best as well—with his stance embodying a skier’s rather than a surfer’s. You eventually caught up to him, poking fun at his odd form.
“You on?” Jongseong asked, constantly shifting his feet to prevent himself from falling.
“Loser has to close up,” You confidently replied. Judging from the way he looked, you were sure you could secure another victory to make up for your loss at rock paper scissors. It was the same outcome as his plight with Smash Bros—since you were someone who had enough hands-on experience with the board.
“Aight, fuckface.”
In the count of three, a wave began to break. You quickly paddled to the area, seamlessly standing up to face the shore. Keeping your eyes forward, you smoothly navigated through the wave with ease, holding your arms out to feel the air. The roars of the ocean hindered your hearing by a small margin, so the only way you could know of Jongseong’s current status was to trust your intuition. Once the wave had calmed down, you gently fell on the surface of your board in relaxation, paddling closer to see how Jognseong was faring. Your partner, workmate, new friend—or your favorite term of endearment, bitch boy—had failed to catch the wave.
After Jongseong’s catastrophe with surfing, the two of you decided that it was time to retire from the sea. It wasn’t the first time he fell face-flat on the briny waters filled with sodium, but it was perhaps his worst one yet. He only had himself to blame for picking a board that was twice his size, but stubborn pride isn’t always easy to dispel.
Both of you managed to end your respective surfing session on time, but it was a cold sensation between your feet that prompted you and Jongseong to officially experience your first ever tardy; in what would have been a safe, punctual trip back to the truck, a sharp jolt of pain electrified your bare heel, causing you to drop your surfboard and yourself on the sand with a loud ‘thud.’ Jongseong, who was a few steps ahead of you, quickly cemented his own board by the truck and rushed to his friend’s aid.
“You aight, dude?”
“You think?” You replied through gritted teeth and intensely furrowed brows.
There was no simple way to describe the pain that you were going through. Perhaps the worst aspect of your current crisis came from the mystery that laced its origin; no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pinpoint the source of injury. If it were a sting from a jellyfish, you would have felt the electrifying shocks in your veins at sea, for jellyfish were vulnerable on land. Had it been a broken seashell or a shard of glass, a crimson hue would have already seeped into the pristine beige hues of the sand. No physical indicators were present, and when Jongseong elevated your feet to rest them on his thigh, he couldn’t see anything—no bite marks, no scars, and no bruises. All he could see were bits of sand that stuck to your toes, and the surface of dry, callused skin that lined your feet with an individualistic print.
“Hey, what’s this?” Jongseong suddenly asked. In a single motion, he twisted your ankle to a certain angle, heightening the levels of pain you were already going through. A string of curses permeated the air, followed by another endless line of profanity from your personal nurse of the day.
“What the hell?!” He exclaimed, upon having your foot kick his cheek. Before you were able to reply, a metallic ‘clunk’ reverberated amidst the white noise of beach patrons and sea waves, causing both of you to turn your heads in the direction of the sound.
There was a wayward, broken seashell in a pearlescent shade of gradating violet, half-buried on a stretch of sand by the shoreline. What caught both of your attention, though, was a fluorescent beam that glowed with the essence of artificial lighting. Jongseong tried to kick it over, but ended up feeling a trickling tremor that numbed his foot altogether. Upon coming face-to-face with the one thing that contributed to your rather short-lived misery, you used the tip of your keys to flip the culprit out of the sad, digging it out to reveal a rusted, circular coin. It acted as a magnet upon contact with your keys, moving wherever it jingled, but never fully fusing with the bundle of stainless steel.
“Dude. What is that?” Jongseong asked, watching the coin float in the air alongside your keys. There was a low hum that reverberated from its perimeters, something akin to the sound of a continuous vibration coming from a smartphone. He taps his ears to ask you if you heard the same bizarre noise that he did, and you nodded in response, tracing the troughs and peaks of sound waves mid-air.
“Kinda looks like a medal or something.”
Tilting your keys in various directions allowed the rustic, circular medallion to follow along, revealing its faded design to the two curious onlookers who bore witness to its rarity. One side of the medallion had two to three lines of writing in what looked like runic characters. You did your best to recognize the hypothetical language it was written in but to no avail. Your slight grasp of Yiddish failed to act in your favor, and your decade-length journey into video games pointed to the Dovahzul from the Skyrim franchise. What frustrated you the most was the fact that your supposed wide scope in general knowledge owing to your chronic video game addiction led to no conclusive culture or language in today’s world—was it Pre-Christian Slavic? Or perhaps Ogham? If it was indeed Cuneiform, then how did such a coin end up on the shores of Los Angeles? As far as you knew, medallions and coins of this variety didn’t exist during the Bronze Age.
With the blessings of modern technology, Jongseong took his phone out to take photos of both sides. You continued to tilt your keys in the direction of his phone’s camera, allowing him to capture several angles. He then opened Google Images, uploading the other side of the coin to its search engine. In contrast to the rune-filled surface of the medallion, the other side depicted an intricate engraving of a mythical sea creature. Its wide tentacles circled around the entire surface of the coin in delicate curves, vaguely reminding Jongseong of the Starbucks logo. In a surprising coincidence, the first set of images that appeared on the search engine was, indeed, the deep green and white simplicity of a mermaid with two tails. He continuously scrolled through each image, occasionally pausing to show you the results. After what felt like hours of endless scrolling, only to find campaigns for overpriced sugary coffee and watered-down tea, the two of you gave up and retired to the confines of your workplace.
“Is that an octopus?” He asked, intensely staring at the medallion that can’t be touched.
Even if the two of you were supposed to be on the job, they boarded the windows up with the truck’s complimentary shutters, ensuring that no amount of sunlight could seep inside. They locked the truck’s back door from the inside for added measure, then focused on creating a makeshift investigation room with the boxes of coolers surrounding them. You closed the windows to the driver’s seat, while Jongseong occupied the passenger’s seat to do the same. The space behind the gears, where the cupholders were supposed to be, was now filled by a bright red mini cooler filled with their favorite popsicle flavors—after all, what’s a spontaneous investigation supposed to be without the sweet, fruity notes of artificial flavorings, right?
“Looks like Cthulhu to me.”
“What the fuck is a Cthulhu?”
In an instant, you quickly placed the bundled keys on top of the mini cooler, which brought the rusty medallion with it. Coincidentally, the side that was facing up depicted the Leviathan-like creature in all its glory—and to a certain extent, Jongseong could have sworn that its intricate tentacles moved with the rhythms of the medallion’s low hums. Your mouth was currently agape in disbelief at the boy’s lack of knowledge, fingers twitching with visible shock.
“You don’t know? H.P. Lovecraft? Tentacle monster that inspired Ebrietas from Bloodborne?”
Taking your phone out of your pocket, you quickly typed what you were looking for and shoved a picture of a bulbous, gigantic octopus with glowing, red eyes and bat-like wings. Its enormous figure towered over the silhouette of a man who was carrying a torch, spreading its sharp devilish wings—which were perhaps wider than the entirety of the shores they were currently in. He shrugged his shoulders in nonchalance, eyes twisting in a puzzled expression. Shaking his head along with the slow movements of the medallion, you drew your phone back, placing it above the steering wheel.
“Okay, who the hell is H.P. Lovecraft, and what the fuck is a Bloodborne?”
“Jesus Jay, really? Aren’t you playing for our uni’s Siege team?” You replied, heaving a sigh of disappointment as you pinched your nose.
“Well, yeah, but I don’t play nerdy games like you or your D&D basement-dwellers.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes in the process.
To this day, he’s never understood how Dungeons & Dragons—or any table-top system—worked, let alone the mechanisms of the game. The rules were too complex, and upon hearing that something akin to Monolopy to him required some levels of mathematics, he’s decided that it wasn’t for him. Sure, the illustrations looked pretty enough for him to consider playing it, but aforementioned, he didn’t really want to be associated with the stereotype that its players were associated with. His acne was recovering, and he certainly didn’t have a goatee.
“Whatever. At least I’m not the one with an embarrassing video of someone singing The Backstreet Boys on the streets of LA with a full boyband getup.”
“Don’t forget that we’re now on equal grounds. If you post that video online, then I’m more than willing to unleash your slip n’ slide adventures at McDicks.” Jongseong snapped, quickly equipping his phone in his hands as an act of retaliation. “I also have that one video of you that Dan sent on Discord, so don’t think of doing anything stupid.”
This was the first time you had resigned your pride—especially concerning Jongseong. In your endless victories, this was the only time you would consider shutting your mouth to let him win. Dan and Jongseong’s blossoming friendship was an oddity amongst all other things, but you didn’t expect your dear, deadbeat friend to support your co-worker in his revenge plot. The video was as forbidden as the medallion hovering between you and Jongseong, and you would do anything in your power to prevent it from being leaked.
“Fair enough, fucko,” You sighed, putting your phone back within the safety of your pockets like an unsheathed gun.
“Anyway, back to the point. Should we return this somewhere? Like, to the lifeguard or something? It feels expensive.” You suggested, carefully placing your fingers on the tip of one of the keys, moving it around to see where the medallion would go. In the absence of sunlight, it was but a rusty, ancient relic. The iridescence that glowed within the medallion was gone, even if Jongseong illuminated it with the fluorescence of a flickering courtesy light. You turned the bright, white flash of your camera towards the medallion, and somehow, the rust that surrounded its surface was beginning to fade away. With the combined efforts of the car’s light and your phone, the rustic relic transformed into a fresh, shiny version of its former shadow. Although the rust would have attended a sense of antiquity, the medallion in its pristine condition definitely looked the part of an aristocratic coat of arms. Both of you shared looks between yourselves and the hovering medallion, with a glint of greed sparkling in your eyes.
“Well if it feels expensive then maybe—“
“Oh no you don’t, Jay. No no no,” You interrupted, jutting your index finger on the curves of his lips. “We are not selling this to the pawnshop and splitting the cash!”
“But—“
You placed your palms on his shoulders with determination, grounding him further into the worn-down cushions of the passenger’s seat.
“Instead, we’re gonna sell this on eBay. The folks there throw cash on anything that looks old enough.” You whispered. Although you’ve forgotten why you had to keep your voice low, you felt that it was necessary to do so.
“And here I thought you were the goody-two-shoes between us.”
“Jay, you call me a fucking pothead. What do you expect from someone like me?”
“Good point.” He repied, lips pursed in agreement. You rolled your eyes in response, eyeing the floating medallion with hope.
Slowly taking the keys off the mini cooler, he tossed it towards you, who nonchalantly caught it with both hands. All memories of the incessant pain in your leg left your head with this newfound venture for profit; if a jolt of pain was what it took to earn money, then you’d gladly suffer tenfold for it. You were already on the road to suffering student debts due to the expensive nature of your major of choice—that in itself was more painful than an electrifying shock that numbed your veins. As you gazed at your co-worker, you noticed the same amount of passion in his eyes. If the hypothetical auction were to happen, then there would definitely be a bored, rich person out there willing to throw money at all the odd trinkets the world has to offer.
“So, who’s keeping it?” He asked, tearing a popsicle pack open. This time, he picked a flavor that you often ate—cherry cola without any of the sparkling fizzes. To him, it tasted like cough syrup, but he didn’t care. Cough syrup tasted like the nectar of the gods when money was involved.
“I don’t know? We’ll take turns, I guess?” You replied, returning the sentiment by taking the variety of popsicle flavors that he always picked. You couldn’t understand the appeal of anything watermelon flavored, but nonetheless, you were feeling fearless enough to try new things.
“How?”
“Well, I’ll take it home first to see if there’s anything I could find about it, since apparently, you don’t know about Lovecraftian lore or whatever.”
Slowly, but surely taking the keys back into your hands, you slithered out of the driver’s seat to look for your tie-dye backpack. As you passed by the car radio, a screeching static began to permeate across the interior of the truck, prompting you to drop the keys and your popsicle on the floor. From the confines of your peripheral vision, the medallion hovered right in front of the car radio before following the fallen trajectory of the keys. A ring-like beam of white light began to grow brighter and brighter alongside the insufferable noise that bounced between the walls of the truck. At some point, an operatic, blood-curdling scream akin to a horror movie heroine sliced through the blend of static and distorted pop music, causing you to lose your balance and fall to the floor.
“What the fuck, Jay!” You exclaimed once the ear-bleeding noises subsided.
You peeked your head around the passenger’s seat, only to find a lack of spiky, gelled jet-black hair behind the headrest. Covertly taking each, light step back to the front of the truck, you screamed in terror at your workmate’s curled-up state. Under the glove compartment, Jongseong’s fetal figure had his knees tightly compressed to his chest, head buried within the small slithers of space between the two of you. Slowly arching his head up front, he stares at the car radio in fear before jolting up and hitting his head on the plastic walls of the car.
“You didn’t see anything, okay?” He whispered, clearing his throat and dusting off his shorts.
“Jay, whatever. Are you messing with the fucking radio or not?”
A part of you knew that Jongseong wasn’t the culprit behind the incident—especially when he retaliated with a much more frightened expression than you. Nonetheless, you refused to believe in the paranormal. In a friend circle filled with conspiracy theorists and believers, you were the pillar of rationality that outright rejects the idea of ghastly creatures roaming around the earth. To you, tales of a giant octopoid god were just tales—something that was conjured up by a bored, racist man in the dawn of America who had nothing better to do with his life. There was no way any of his stories or ghosts could exist. You would give aliens and extraterrestrials a leeway because space exploration hadn’t evolved to certain heights, but the paranormal was an old midwife’s tale conjured up to teach children about the dangers of the world.
“The dead stay dead. There’s no fucking reason for souls or whatever to stay on earth when their expiration date has passed.” You’d often say. This was always met with counter-arguments of retribution or purgatorial damnation—both of which you found absolutely ridiculous. If you had died, the last place you’d want to be in was earth. Death to you was a release from the hellhole of a planet humankind currently inhabits, so why would any ghost want to come back?
Now, the tables have turned. You won’t ever mention this incident to your friends, but you’ll remember it for the rest of your life—hell, you were more than willing to take this entire experience to the grave with you. There was still a probability that Jongseong was behind the elusive “prank,” but you refused to acknowledge the possibility that he might be a great actor. The man couldn’t even say a single word to a beach bombshell and a group of sorority girls without stumbling on his sentence—that being said, how could he have pulled off an elaborate, thorough prank? Just like your disbelief in ghosts, you knew that someone like him would never pull something so meticulously well-crafted.
“How could I mess with it when I was all the way down there.” He replied, masking any remnants of fear with a forced notion of bravado.
“Dumbass, you crouched right after the radio went nuts. You probably had something to do with it since hypothetically, you’re right next to the goddamn thing.”
No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself to believe in Jongseong as the mastermind behind the sentient radio, you’d rather surrender and accept the paranormal’s existence.
“Listen, this is an oldass radio. I can’t magically take a remote controller out of my ass to mess with the signal or something. Plus, I don’t know shit about radios—all I know is that if I turn the knob or whatever, the channel changes or something, right?” He said, trying to leave the narrow confines of the passenger’s seat.
“Well, yeah, but—“
The screeching sound of the radio returned tenfold, followed by Jongseong’s endless exclamations of pain. He leaned on one of the ice boxes for support, bringing his leg up to his chest while trying his best to maintain his balance. Your bundle of keys was accidentally kicked back to the front of the truck, and the radio roared louder than ever. In a sea of static, distorted voices and high-frequency pitches, a set of patterned beeps permeated from the senseless, ear-grating cacophony that occupied the entirety of the truck. Once the pain oinJongseong’s leg subsided, he looked at the glistening group of stainless steel. The medallion now hovered in front of the car radio, an iridescent glow engulfing the interior of the truck in its intense beam. With the combined, dim rays of the courtesy light, both you and Jongseong had to shield your eyes, bracing yourselves from the sudden burst of bright, white light that could have only been explained by the strange medallion.
“Oh.” Both of you said in unison, resisting the temptations of the light.
The patterned beeps amidst the racket of blaring, layered white noise seemed to repeat itself in intervals of thirty-three seconds. Jongseong hit you with his elbow, senses overwhelmed by the light that was too blinding to see with his eyes opened. You firmly grabbed his upper arm in retaliation, heaving a sigh of relief upon feeling his presence.
“Jay? Can you hear me?” You shouted in a failed attempt to defeat the wrath of the radio.
“What? Kind of? Hello?” He replied with equal fervor. He did hear your voice, but at this rate, he wasn’t sure if it was your voice or not anymore. With the unharmonious mixture of all types of sound and noise that the earth could offer, his sense of hearing had entered a state akin to senility—or perhaps paranoia.
“Okay, Jay. Listen to me carefully. I want you to record the car radio. Now. With. Your. Phone.”
You made sure to enunciate each word with a piercing volume—which backfired instead. As a person who didn’t enjoy wasting unnecessary energy, Jongseong waving his arms back and forth whilst screaming “what’s” and “huhs” didn’t help your case at all.
“Phone. Record. Audio.” You tried again, this time slowing each word down to the point where each syllable lasted five to six seconds. This time, he responded by prying his arm away from your stronghold. The rustling of khakis added another layer to the clamor of noise that continued to play its deadly symphonies. If the two of you were to make it out of this entire ordeal alive, you’d be more than grateful to have your hearing intact.
Along with the repetition of monotonous beeps akin to Morse code, the light xylophone of the record button momentarily sliced through the static screeches of the car radio, giving you enough time to stretch your feet out and locate the keys. With each second that passed, the radio grew louder and louder, practically bursting both of your eardrums with all the signals that jumbled up into one, sonorous mess. Crouching down, you felt through the carpeted floor of the truck until the familiar shape of a key molded into your palms. While your hearing was completely unreliable, your sense of touch was somehow still there, aiding you in hopefully shutting the radio up for good. The circular shape of a keyring curled between your fingers, and in one, quick motion, you opened your eyes to blind yourself for a brief second. Despite this, the white light of the medallion overwhelmed your sight. In a streak of luck, the trajectory of the keys successfully knocked the medallion from the car radio.
While the radio itself plunged the truck into an immediate, deathly silence, a continuous, high-pitched ringing was still throbbing in both of your eardrums. The familiar, sweet jingle of the record button echoed within the truck, rendering you and Jongseong in a trance-like state of unknown emotions; the relief that came from the abrupt halt of the car radio into a period of serenity; the fear that came from the uncertainty of what’s to come; the frustration that came from the nausea boiling into your stomachs; the incessant, unstoppable ringing within your ear canals.
Perhaps this was madness, or perhaps not.
“Dude, slap me.” You requested out of the blue.
You took your hands off your ears and peeked your head in the direction of a distant glow. The medallion retained its ghastly luster, luring you closer to the driver’s seat. You felt through the ragged cushions of the headrest, then slithered your hand down to the bottom of the seat. Wool and polyester—whatever car seats were made of—still felt the same under your touch. Somehow, this didn’t ease the rapid palpitations that overwhelmed the entirety of your circulatory system.
“Why the hell would I do that?” Jongseong replied, body still hunched down to his knees. His fingers throbbed with a tremor that came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and he did what he could to massage his temples. Grazing his knees on the rough, carpeted floors, he peeked his head to where your keys landed. The sight of the floating medallion made him sick to the stomach, prompting him to hastily unlock the driver’s door to empty a sticky sludge of melted popsicles from his system.
“Because, I need to know if we’re still here, you know?”
You stretched your torso to where Jongseong was, patting gentle strokes of comfort around his back. After a few minutes of coughing, heaving, and sneezing, you ripped a portion of your band shirt and shoved it in his hands.
“I mean, see for yourself.”
Opening the car door to its fullest, Jongseong dropped his body to the coastline. His head was throbbing in circles, and the sensations of tiny sand on his bare feet did little to ease the state of panic that he was in. Nonetheless, he tried to help you get out of the car, using what was left of his strength to pull you down.
Although Jongseong could blame it on the subtle ringing that dwindled with each passing second, there was definitely something off about the beach. For one, it was empty. When the two of you finished your quick surfing session, the shoreline was still packed with vacationers and nuclear families. Adding to that, it was a weekend, which meant that the beach would have been filled until the onset of a summer evening—speaking of the evening, it was bizarre to both of you that the sky was completely dark. The last time you and Jongseong were conscious, the sun was at its brightest. Time as a construct is too complex of a concept to properly track, but it didn’t occur to both of you that more than half a day had passed. Sure, the hellish screeches of the car radio felt eternal, but at the same time it felt quick—for a basic estimate, an hour or two was something both of you could agree on.
“So we’re not here.”
The initial bout of nausea and fatigue quickly evaporated into a surge of panic-induced adrenaline. Each wave from the sea roared with a crystal-clear volume that made you and Jongseong feel its waters on the tips of your toes—even if both of you were far, far away from the reaches of the shore. The temperance of the winds furiously blew both your hairs upward to the point where you and Jongseong could feel a pair of large hands rip it off your respective scalps. The sands too, began to melt beneath you, plunging both of you lower and lower until you could taste its glassy particle on your tongue.
While the world as both of you knew it crumbled into a swirl of colors, symbols, and signifiers, the only thing that Jongseong could hear was the sound of a phone being picked up, followed by a familiar male voice that asked him where he was.
“Inlet Waves. I’m in Inlet Waves.”
II: PARTNERS IN CRIME
The first thing that Jongseong saw when he opened his eyes wasn’t the sandy coasts of the beach, or the cramped, cooler-filled interior of the ice cream truck—it was the plain white walls of the university’s residence halls. What felt like a soft duvet engulfed him in a warm, tender, embrace, sinking him deeper into the aromas of fresh laundry and floral soap. Sleep came easy to him until his peripheral vision graced him with the blurry silhouettes of two people sitting by a circular, wooden table—one, the familiar silhouette of someone he sees at work every day, and the other, a man that slowly eased into clarity. He rubbed his eyes a couple of times, but at this rate, he wasn’t too sure if he was still dreaming, or if he was truly awake.
“So you’re finally up, fuckface.”
“Is that really what you call him?” An all too familiar male voice replied.
It took some time for Jongseong to attach a name to the voice, but when he did, a rush of comfort roared into his stomach. In small steps, he trudged towards what he recognized was the living room of an old friend, feeling the wall’s textured surface as he dragged his languid body forward. Once he was out of the room, he shielded his eyes from the intensity of the dimly lit candles, their bundled-up shape slowly burning by a wooden bedside drawer. He gathered enough strength to blow at the wick, encasing him with intense darkness that immediately wrapped itself around his vision. The only thing he could see was the distant, ominous glow of an all too familiar source of alien light, coupled with your traceable silhouette and a man that he initially couldn’t recognize. The screech of the wooden chair reverberated in Jongseong’s ears as he felt a pair of hands pat gentle circles on his back, pushing him down into a hardwood chair.
“Wait…”
Jongseong waited for his eyes to adjust until Heeseung’s face greeted him with utmost clarity. Mustering a small wave at his old friend, he then darted his eyes to your nonchalant position. In front of Heeseung were a plethora of notes and his open laptop, which had symbols Jongseong couldn’t recognize. The medallion was floating in the middle of the table, acting as the room’s only source of light as it gleamed with the brightness of a full moon. A worn-out shoelace had been tied around a punctured hole in the medallion, which presumably had a connecting chain attached to it right before it possibly drifted to the shores. Under it were the keys to the truck, which continued to act as a magnetic field from which the medallion could float. The two of you quickly walked over to Jongseong and acted as his crutches, hoisting him from one arm to another and gently lowering him down to a cushioned seat. There was a batch of leftover cookies in a tin tray in front of him, and you quickly trotted to the kitchen to bring him a large glass of water.
“You two know each other?” Jongseong asked, ignoring the anomaly that was in front of him. You sat back on your hair and tossed a cookie inside your mouth, exchanging questionable looks with Heeseung.
“Kind of…” Heeseung replied, fumbling at his own words.
“We fucked.” You interjected, resting your chin on your elbows. You took another cookie the size of your hand and bit its corners. Your snack was almost as circular as the floating medallion in the middle of the table.
“Wait what—“
“Hey!” Heeseung practically screamed, face flushed in a shade of red. At first, Jongseong was fully confident in your bluff, but Heeseung was the type of guy to never lose his cool. His sudden high defenses raised more alarms in Jongseong’s head, and he took the time to look back at his workmate, who remained calm and quiet to Heeseung’s harmless nudges.
The smile on your face wasn’t too prideful. For the short time that he’s known you, one of your many trademarks was your snarky sense of humor. Even then, the deadpan in your voice, as well as your bold, yet small smile implied otherwise—that this wasn’t supposed to be a joke.
You were also known to be unpredictable, so the probabilities in your statement were endless. It would relieve him to know that someone like you didn’t open your legs to an overqualified man like Heeseung—on the one hand, it upheld the unseen levels of respect he had for his old friend, and on the other, it also gave insights on you as a person. You had relatively high standards, and although Jongseong refused to admit it, the action in itself would have earned his unbridled respect. In a sea of druggies and potheads that you called your friends, selecting a studious, reputable man also gave Jongseong his much-needed wake-up call to raise his own standards. That being said, it was also probable that someone like you would make such a crude joke. Clearly, Heeseung was out of both your reaches combined, and it wouldn’t surprise him to know that you were ultimately lying through your teeth. Just to be on the safe side of things, Jongseong split the gamble in half—that way, all the scenarios that began to cloud his head wouldn’t be too jarring to swallow.
“Really? You two?” He asked, darting his eyes between both parties. Before you could say a single word, a third cookie was suddenly shoved into your mouth. Heeseung cleared his throat and vehemently shook his head, watching you slowly chew on the soggy, cold state of what could have been a fresh batch of sugar cookies.
“No, we didn’t. I was just her first-year peer.” Heeseung explained, taking a deep breath. For added measures, he pushed another cookie inside your cheek, filling it up like a chipmunk.
“Yeah, don’t worry about it, Jay. I won’t steal your boyfriend from you if that’s what’s bothering you right now.” You interrupted, once you chewed through every single cookie that was stuffed in your mouth. Although there were only two and a half chunks inside your cheeks at the moment, one cookie was bigger than your hand, making the whole thing run your mouth as dry as the Albuquerque deserts. Taking Heeseung’s glass of water nearby, you drank it in a single gulp, preventing your stomach from processing the sudden, large intake of sugar.
“For fuck’s sake. I wake up and get greeted by this instead of a proper good morning.”
“It’s not even morning. It’s like, midnight, dude.” You replied, jutting your chin at a nearby window. Although the curtains were fully drawn, the lack of light gave Jongseong enough to work with. The utter silence surrounding the room save for the low hums of the medallion also spoke the language of ungodly hours, and the final nail in the coffin to him was the time etched on Heeseung’s phone after a notification popped up.
3:32 A.M.
Even if Jongseong didn’t believe in anything that the eyes couldn’t see, the closeness of the current time to a so-called “witching hour” was enough to unnerve him. After all that he could remember with the ice cream truck’s radio and the odd rules that Williams left for the two of you, it wouldn’t surprise him to find a group of cliche, robed people waiting outside of Heeseung’s apartment. If he was unlucky enough, the octopoid monster depicted in the medallion would have awoken in the depths of the beach, hunting the two of you down for skipping out on your shift. At this rate, anything was possible to him, and the idea of Williams hiding in plain sight to conceal his monstrous eight-legged figure seemed plausible enough. If that were the case, it could definitely explain why the man was too cautious about his identity, concealing it at every chance he got.
“Yikes, Jay. That’s another tally in the whiteboard,” You interrupted his thoughts, snapping him back into the safe confines of Heeseung’s living room. Jongseong closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reminding himself that nothing will happen yet. He was still alive, and for good measure, he rapidly blinked to see if, at some point, the three of you along with the entire apartment would disappear. To his relief, everything was still intact. Both you and Heeseung were still sitting in front of him, and he could still see you waving your hands right by his eyes. He immediately swatted your hands away with a weird mixture of annoyance and calm, leaving you to grumble back in your seat.
“Well, your existence alone would add twenty more bars to the tally, to be honest,” You hummed, giving him the middle finger. “You’re lucky that I’m only counting the things that happened in the truck, or else every single breath you take would be a mark on that whiteboard.”
You took a wayward piece of paper nearby and made a makeshift tally that closely resembled the one you made back in the ice cream truck. This time, you added an infinity symbol where YOU SUCK was written, resulting in Jongseong returning the middle finger in your direction. You retaliated with a crude gesture, graphically mimicking a poorly-done blowjob while pointing at him and Heeseung to add more substance to your imaginary picture.
“Fuck off,”
“Hey, break it off, you two. Aren’t you guys here for my help?” Heeseung interrupted, holding both his hands out. His voice was enough to quell the childish anger between you and Jongseong, but the latter continued to keep the look of subtle confusion that was permanently etched on his face since he woke up from whatever form of slumber or temporary coma he fell under.
“Wait, what?”
“Apparently, you called Heeseung when we were fucked over by the radio,” You explained. “He told me we were going through the effects of an auditory hallucination.”
You took the now crumpled makeshift tally to add another line in the YOU SUCK section.
“Did I…?”
Jongseong rubbed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to quell the nauseating episodes of blurred visions that plagued him since he woke up. The medallion’s low hums took the form of a high-frequency buzzing that reverberated in his ear canals, which he drowned out by rushing back to the room he came from. His loud footsteps in the middle of the night alarmed Heeseung, but you put your differences aside and jutted your chin to the medallion. For all its mystifying qualities, Jongseong wondered if you were currently experiencing the same thing—a disjuncture of movement in separate frames rather than a singular, fluid flow of motion; the incessant chimes of echoed screams in the form of deafening sound waves; a fear of uncertainty molded into the rusted medallion that shone an otherworldly, soft beam; ever-inviting, yet all the more nauseating to look at.
“Check your call logs, Jay-ah. You called me thirty-two times when I was out running errands.”
Heeseung’s voice was the savior that managed to pierce through the medallion’s effects, and soon enough, Jongseong was able to safely navigate through the foreignly familiar room, locating his phone and earbuds in the nick of time. Popping one in his right ear, he hoped that his favorite songs would successfully combat the mild case of temporary tinnitus he was currently subjected to.
“Oh, my bad.” He murmured, scrolling through his call logs. In total, there were thirty-two outgoing calls directed to Heeseung—none of which he remembered dialing. The bright red that indicated his missed calls momentarily stung his eyes, but with enough patience, the characters to Heeseung’s name came to clarity. Thirty-two outgoing calls and thirty-two missed ones in return.
“No, it’s fine. Had I not picked up, you two would have been totally dead on the job or something.”
“Wait, so you picked us up?”
Hypothetically, there was no other answer to why the two of you crashed into Heeseung’s apartment. With the seemingly endless lines of call logs, it was the natural assumption to make that Heeseung went all the way to your workplace, picked the two of you up, and safely nursed you and Jongseong within the confines of his humble abode. However, there was an inkling of possibilities that plagued Jongseong as his mind wandered to the viable situations that brought them to where they were now—perhaps it was an ambulance that rushed the two of you to a nearby hospital? Or maybe it was a stranger who saw both of you passed out on the sand, calling Heeseung’s number by themselves? Amidst all the possibilities, there were many ways to go with what could have happened, and the chances of a successful rescue from his trusted friend seemed too good to be true.
Could all of this be an illusion?
Perhaps, perhaps not. With the constant blurry haze in his vision, he wouldn’t be surprised if this was all a visual hallucination. The medallion’s supernatural allure could have made him see what he wished for, and in actuality, he was probably still lying unconscious on the sandy shores of the beach all along.
You and Heeseung leaped off your seats, witnessing Jongseong’s languid steps. Heeseugn’s touch ceased to quell any uncertainties he was currently feeling, and your attacks of unbridled pinches momentarily convinced him that he was within the safety of his old friend’s apartment. In an attempt to truly ground himself in whatever realm of reality he was in, he pushed his palms on each of your faces, feeling every single feature and detail to familiarize himself with the sense of touch. It took a few nudges and awkwardly harsh jabs at both you and Heeseung’s nostrils for him to finally convince himself that he was indeed, in safe hands. The final touch to his confirmation of grounded existence was the act of you biting down on his fingers hard enough for everything around him to gain clarity. In a moment of eureka, the medallion’s effects evaporated into thin air, leaving him with the sheer silence of Heeseung’s apartment. He was seated in the chair he had previously occupied, with a different rap song blasting too loudly in his ear. Your stares bore deep into his body, piercing through it with confusion so great that you and Heeseung hastily pushed your seats back in unison, fearing for what Jongseong might do next. While he stared at the reddish bite marks that you left on his fingers, Heeseung rubbed his nose in an attempt to straighten it, as if Jongseong’s palm had flattened his nose bridge down to his face.
“Anyway, yes, I did pick you both up. Rushed to the beach by car, tried to look for the truck, and saw you two lying unconscious on the sand. Luckily, some surfers took you guys to the lifeguard or something, and from then, I took you two to my apartment.” Heeseung explained after clearing his throat.
“Wait, so how long were we out?” Jongseong asked. He woke up at the crack of dawn, but it was just a matter of how many hours had passed since both of you seemingly passed out. For all he knew, he could have spent an entire week sleeping, or in the best-case scenario, a few days.
“A solid eight hours,” Hearing this answer from you, Jongseong heaved a sigh of relief. It was too soon to celebrate but to have woken up as fast as eight hours superseded the best-case scenario in his head. Who knows what could have happened to you and Jongseong in two to three days of uninterrupted slumber?
“The surfers found you guys unconscious at around three or four in the afternoon, and they took you to the lifeguard, where you rested until I came by at around nine in the evening. Now, it’s two-thirty in the morning, and she woke up two hours earlier to brief me about the radio and whatnot.” Heeseung continued as if re-telling his side of the story in full detail would calm the young man down. It had worked on you when you woke up, so it could possibly aid in relieving Jongseong’s woes about the entire ordeal.
“Oh. Damn.”
“Damn indeed, Jay.”
“So, what have you two been up to while I was sleeping or something?” Jongseong asked, staring at the opened laptops and messy piles of paper on the circular wooden table.
Next to the now empty tin baking tray was a large notebook written in messily written scribbles of an unknown script, followed by what could only be inferred to as a rough translation of the strange writing. Jongseong traced the patterns and lines in his head and pieced them into the writings on the medallion. Judging by the rather unreadable cursive, he judged that this was your penmanship. Heeseung’s was too neat and readable as reflective of his demeanor, and the lopsided, slanted jottings of rushed Latin alphabets heavily connected to your character—quick, impatient, and never one to write anything down on paper. At this rate, he wasn’t sure of the difference between your supposed rendition of the Latin alphabet and the strange scriptures of the medallion. To him, it looked all the same due to the connected lines and diagonal nature of the way you wrote. The only thing that made him sure of the English translation beside the medallion’s secret language was the discernible curves of the vowels—which were written in a type of cursive that looked as old as a Jacobian parchment archive that he saw in an elective political theory course he took last semester.
“She told me about the medallion and the car radio, so the first thing I did was turn off all our electrical supplies in case something like that happened. I’m borrowing our neighbor’s WiFi at the moment, and my laptop’s charged via a power bank strong enough to support the battery.” Heeseung explained, pointing at the entirety of his apartment with his arm span. Sure enough, the only source of light at the moment was the medallion, glowing ever so brightly in the middle of the table akin to an occultist ritual.
“I told Heeseung about the medallion, and we’ve finally cracked the code to the language and what’s written on it. Now, it’s just a matter of you playing the recording to him so he could decipher whatever he could.” You pushed the notebook in his direction, fumbling about nearby for a box of matches and a thin, wax candle. Once you found a glass that could hold it in place, you lit the match with a single strike and ignited the candle, giving Jongseong enough light to attempt reading whatever was written in the notebook. Even with the ghastly glow of the medallion, what he assumed was your handwriting was completely illegible, causing him to return it to you with a visible scowl and an added touch of gratitude—his signature middle finger—which you returned twofold while mocking his supposed illiteracy.
“Enochian. Some occultist, angelic language, or whatever.” You started. “But yeah, when Heeseung deciphered the symbols, he concluded with this,”
One of the sentences he was able to read was a neatly-written transcription of the jagged lines and geometric patterns of the Enochian script—something he credited Heeseung for instead of your terrible handwriting.
Solidarity in the truth. The old ones seek to find those that are worthy.
“Huh. If we found the medallion, does that mean we’re the worthy ones?” Jongseong asked, circling the sentence with the tip of his index finger. To him, the words would have retained their chillingly ominous enigma, but now that it has been translated into a script that he could fully comprehend, all he could do was scoff at the cliche nature of the medallion. While some of his apprehension has been alleviated, the lack of explanation behind the medallion’s otherworldly glow continued to unease him.
“Dude, really? Us? I doubt it. It’s probably just random chance that we came to find it, but if the medallion’s right, then we should definitely be experiencing all sorts of weird shit by now.” You replied, returning the lighthearted sentiment. If you and Jongseong were the so-called “chosen ones,” then the two of you would’ve been anywhere but in the safety of Heeseung’s apartment. The possibilities as to what would have happened to both of you were endless, and the thought of you as a virgin sacrifice was the funniest and simultaneously scariest thing that crossed Jongseong’s mind. To remain a virgin after surviving one year of university completely baffled him, thus confirming that the two of you couldn’t possibly be the chosen ones. Even if they were to be fed to the octopoid varmint engraved in the medallion, whatever cult that worshipped this strange brand of religion would have avoided the risk of awakening a god’s wrath. He may be giving cult followers more credit than they’re worth, but it would make sense to do the necessary preparation and research for any type of ritual or custom.
As far as Jongseong knew, anything related to the occult had to have a sacrificial ritual in the list of cliches that he’s encountered in horror films—if anything, being the “chosen ones” would have immediately warranted their death or a slow, medieval form of torture that involved magical potions and incantations in tongues. The typical engravings of a ritualistic rune on the floor or being crucified in an upside-down cross didn’t seem to take place at the moment, which meant it was safe for him to laugh it all off so long as he stays within the white walls of Heeseung’s cozy apartment.
One last thing that reassured him was the absence of the “old ones” or any large, ancient creature bigger than the tallest building on the planet. It was currently a quiet dawn with all of the megacity’s population cuddled up in deep slumber. The rowdier parts of the city were probably awake with an adrenaline rush fueled by strobe lights and booming techno music—which only confirmed to him that the world was at peace, and the octopoid god is nothing but an image conjured up within the pages of a make-believe bible of darkness.
“Did you get anything?” You asked, your voice calmly seeping through Jongseong’s stream of thought. He directed his attention to Heeseung, who was now crouched up in the soft cushions of his sofa. He took his headphones out and hung them on his neck, monitoring whatever was projected on his laptop’s screen.
“Give me a few days. It’s really hard to tell with all the noise. We have our first sentence though,”
“Really?”
You and Jongseong immediately jogged towards Heeseung’s sofa, squeezing in to see what was going on. There was a cluster of wires, equipment, and sound-related devices that both of you were unfamiliar with, but Jongseong seemed to recognize a red audio interface that some of his friends used. He didn’t know what the purpose of the device was, but he knew that every musician—professional or independent—had this essential tool in their list of equipment.
“Yeah, let me remaster it on my laptop. I can probably isolate the sounds and pick out the Morse code.” Heeseung said, putting his headphones back on to work on the mysterious layers of the ice cream truck’s car radio.
“Wait, Morse code?” Jongseong asked.
Morse code was something that he knew based on general knowledge, making the entire ordeal gain another layer of mystery again. The code itself could be a result of hidden channels from the myriad of military bases across the United States—after all, there was a separate enigma about military cover-ups that fuel every conspiracy theorist’s sugary highs of delusion. He refuses to align himself with the likes of their tin-foiled hats, but he also couldn’t get himself to believe in the identity of a cult that believes in the eventual awakening of a giant octopus monster. Both cases seemed too surreal for him to comprehend, and so he decided on the prospect of neutrality. Who knows? Everything might be a ruse or a sick prank made up by bored students with enough knowledge of technology. If he were to have such a brain, he would definitely mess with radio signals for a cheap thrill or two.
“Yeah. If you ignore all the static and screaming, I could definitely hear some Morse code going on.” Heeseung replied, hanging his headphones around his head to allow a single ear to hear what both of you had to say.
“Sweet. That’s something I can help with, I think.” You interrupted, squeezing in even further towards Heeseung to see what he was doing on the laptop.
While Heeseung was bothered by the sudden invasion of personal space, he was quite satisfied with the added assistance. Open to your help, he decided to unplug the headphones from his laptop and connected them to a large studio monitor instead, allowing both you and Jongseong to hear the process unfold.
“Jesus, what are you? Some kind of war vet?” Jongseong suddenly asked, causing you to snap your head in his direction. As both of you were separated by Heeseung, you communicated by stretching your heads behind his back.
“Nah, just someone who would do anything to cheat on a test. A friend and I learned the basics to tap the answers to each other back in high school.” You replied with a nostalgic smile on your face, lighting your aura up in the form of childlike wonder. You continued to keep your ears open to the sounds that came out of Heeseung’s studio monitor, but your head was conjuring an image of a simpler time in your teenage years.
“No way.”
“Yes way, but it didn’t work. The invigilator told us to shut the fuck up, so we managed by prolonging the beeps to make it look like we’re tapping our pens out of habit or something.”
You took a pen from the cluster of Heeseung’s coffee table, demonstrating the event right before his eyes. You tapped once for an ‘A,’ tapped twice using both ends of the pen for a ‘B,’ and so on. Jongseong nodded along, envisioning himself as the very student that you used your secret code on. The strategy was complex, but it was an inefficient form of cheating on a test. Most exam halls that he’s been to were deathly silent, with nothing but the invigilator’s heels clacking with the ticking of an analog wall clock. Occasionally, there would be a form of speech from the invigilator announcing the time they had left to sit the exam, but he’d rather print the answers on a plastic water bottle’s label or hide formulas behind the battery box of his calculator than go through with the grating noise of pen tapping.
“Okay, that’s kinda smart, but why don’t you just study?”
Jongseong did imagine you as the type of person to attempt cheating on a test, but if it took both parties to learn the basics of Morse code, then the plan itself was a waste of time. If he were in you and your friends’ shoes, he would have just used those hours spent studying for the content, even if his best would result in a mediocre score. The prospect of getting caught in a highly-invigilated exam wasn’t worth the attempt—which he saw when one of his classmates was awarded a zero for AP Physics.
“Good question, Jay. That’s something I would’ve never heard you say.” You joked, rolling your eyes at the prospect of showing any ounce of respect toward Jongseong. Although his academic moral code was admirable, you still refused to acknowledge that he had a higher moral ground than you.
“Jongseong might look like the type to hate studying, but for as long as I’ve known him, he puts a good amount in trying to maintain his grades,” Heeseung added, continuing to isolate the sounds into individual layers. He currently played through a distorted song muffled with static and constantly changing frequencies.
“I mean, if you say it, then I’ll believe you.”
“You’re taking Heeseung’s word over mine? Really?” Jongseong dramatically scoffed, rounding his eyes into enlarged, bulging pupils that were about to pop out of his sockets.
“To be fair, anyone would take Heeseung’s word in a heartbeat,”
Upon hearing his name, he jerked his head towards you and Jongseong, then continued to work on cracking the layered code hidden in the ice cream truck’s radio.
Anyone would take Heeseung’s word no matter what he might say—that was how good his reputation was around campus. From being the president of the Economics Society to helping younger students find internships at companies, he was an ace up everyone’s sleeve.
“Okay, so it might take some time for me to isolate each sound; while you’re at it, I think you should tell Jongseong what we’ve found so far.”
“Yes, sir!” You saluted, standing up to take your laptop. You took a seat on the soft carpets of Heeseung’s living room, plugging your laptop into a power bank to make sure that the device could withstand your investigation.
“What’s up?” Jongseong asked, moving himself to the floor to see your laptop screen.
“Okay, so thanks to my video game addiction and Heeseung’s intelligence, we managed to find something that might explain what we’ve been through. Now, before I dive into this shit, I just wanna let you know that I too, was a firm non-believer, so don’t fucking doubt me, okay? I didn’t believe in anything surrounding the occult or whatever until the signs pointed towards it.”
After Jongseong gave you an affirmative nod, you opened an amalgamation of tabs displayed on a web browser. Clicking one of them led you to a site with an outdated design akin to one that was made in the early days of the internet. There was a cheesy pentagram displayed in sparkles of bright red, followed by the presumed name of the cult that read “People of the Sea” right below the emblem. Beside the pentagram was the familiar insignia etched onto the medallion, depicting the same octopoid monster in a menacing design. Its eyes glowed with an ominous, deep red radiance that flickered in intervals of a few seconds. You scrolled down even further to visit the site’s membership application, as well as a link that redirected you to a plethora of bite-sized information on the cult’s ideology.
“So here’s the deal. Heeseung and I had to go through the deep web for answers, and we eventually found this recruitment site that had the same symbol as the medallion. They call themselves the Seekers—which I think is a stupid name,” You explained, zooming into a section of an article that detailed a cult member’s obligations once their membership was accepted.
When you scrolled further, there were several photos showing supposed rituals that the cult has conducted. The photos resembled stock images Jongseong had seen on search engines, and the classic attire of a long, velvet robe with a heavy hood looked too typical to be considered authentically real.
“So they’re believers of these octopus thingies?”
“Yeah. They’re firm believers of these creatures and pray to them as gods or whatever,”
You zoomed into several pictures of the octopoid creature in question, showing him several artistic renditions throughout time. While most of them had an ancient touch to them, there were several images that stylistically resonated with modern evolutions of photography. Either way, all of the pictures had the same motif of a giant, menacing creature with more than eight tentacles hovering over the sea, terrorizing sailors, or looming above a city skyline. Some drawings drew added bat-like wings behind the creature’s back, while some portrayed the creature with two humanoid legs akin to a reptilian giant instead of tentacles. The most terrifying image in the collection was described as “The Wrath of The Old Ones,” showing a city obliterated in huge tidal waves. A handful of citizens were under the grasp of the creature’s tentacles, while some unlucky people had the pleasure of being punctured right in the stomach. The vivid details of the work sent goosebumps down Jongseong’s spine, and you poked him in the waist to add to the chills that riddled his entire body.
“I think you missed something,” Jongseong said once he collected his breath from the sudden attack. He took control of your laptop and rapidly scrolled through the sections, finding more details on the cult’s ideology.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, check this page out,”
The header below all the artistic renditions of the octopoid creature led to detailed accounts of the cult’s lore and ideology. While you didn’t bother reading through each word, you skimmed through important keywords that might give you a full picture of the cult’s end goals.
The Old Ones: A Comprehensive Story
Stories of Leviathan and the Nephilims written in the Bible are skewed testimonies of the Ascha. In reality, the Ascha Drilpa Zodinu is the supreme creator that divided the land from the sea. We all descend from the oceans down below, and after Doalim, the squid disciple, had angered Ascha Drilpa Zodinu, she cursed the fallen El with legs and a set of cursed lungs so he wouldn’t be able to breathe underwater anymore. We, the followers of Ascha, aim to bring us humans, who originally come from the sea, back to where we came from, to serve the Ascha and live out our destiny in the ocean.
In order to appease the Ascha and fulfill our goals, the Ascha must be routinely fed with two people of vitality—one male, and one female. The male represents the creature of the squid, one with four tentacles and a phallic body. The male phallus is originally derived from these giant squids who still reside underwater to eternally serve the Ascha, acting as the Ascha’s disciples. The female represents the creature of the octopus, one with eight tentacles and a uterine body. This is why the fallopian tube and the uterus resemble the shape of the octopus because all females are direct descendants of the Ascha. The females are of most importance, acting as those who protect the Ascha—revered guardians of the sea that fend off the Amma, or shark people.
The male and female sacrifices must be pure of any knowledge of the Ways of the Sea, which means they must be fully assimilated into the land’s rule, created by Doalim, the fallen squid disciple. This gives Ascha the obligation and urgency to awaken and purify the people of the land, who have been rotten by Doalim’s ways. If any of the sacrificial individuals are to hold knowledge of the Sea, Ascha will resist the urge to awaken, believing that the ways of the land still pertain reverence to the Sea. This will prevent us, the Seekers, from achieving our goals sooner, further hindering us a hundred years more.
“What the fuck…” You silently exclaimed under your breath as you continued to skim through the section that Jongseong had directed you to. Jongseong scrolled down even further, showing detailed accounts of individuals that have been sacrificed to Ascha.
Profiles of Previous Sacrifices:
YEAR: 1819, August 7th
MALE: Sir John Howard Taylor
FEMALE: Mary Elizabeth Smith
YEAR: 1919, August 7th
MALE: Lorenzo Agosti
FEMALE: Linda O’Brien
Potential Sacrifices:
YEAR: 2019
MALE: Jongseong Park
Upon seeing your name written on the site, you immediately shut your laptop too loud, causing Heeseung to jerk his head in your direction.
“Guys?” He asked, leaving the sofa to sit on his carpeted floor. You were visibly shaken up, teeth clattering in endless jitters. Jongseong, on the other hand, continued to stare blankly at the laptop’s cover, doing his best to ease the rapid palpitations in his heart. Heeseung kept both of his hands on each of your backs, drawing gentle circles to calm you and Jongseong down.
All three parties were enraptured in a state of pure silence, each trying to forget the damning information that had just been uncovered. While Heeseung kept his mouth shut and continued to comfort the two of you, he was itching to reveal what he had found hidden beneath the layers of the ice cream truck’s car radio. Although his work was currently incomplete, the first few sentences were enough to rattle his bones.
“You might want to lay low for a while,” He finally whispered, breaking the moments of silence that hauntingly screamed into you and Jongseong’s very core.
“No shit, Mr. Obvious,” You replied through gritted teeth. You quickly grabbed a wayward blanket on the sofa and draped it over your shoulders, as if hiding beneath the layers of Heeseung’s duvet would make everything go away.
Heeseung, in an impatient fit that was rare for his persona, took his laptop to the carpet and played the isolated audio via his studio monitor. What followed was perhaps the most disturbing thing that all three of you have ever heard in your lives. Rapid, whispered incantations in tongues were looped over and over again, followed by a collective group of people humming in low pitches that surely vibrated the very ground they were sitting on. A monstrous growl could be heard across the distance, moaning in fried, otherworldly voices that reminded you and Jongseong of a famous Japanese horror film riddled with dark-haired ghastly women and hauntingly pale children with black cats. You dove further into the blanket, praying for the audio to stop, while Jongseong plugged his ears as much as he could. The medallion responded to these incantations by slowly floating higher and higher, emitting a demonic glow that flashed right before all three of your eyes. Once Heeseung had paused the audio, the medallion sank back to the surface of the kitchen table, retaining its former position. The glow of the medallion had also diminished into a flickering radiance that provided them with enough light for the remainder of dawn.
“Okay, I knew that $35 per hour at an ice cream truck was too good to be true.” Jongseong sighed in fear, eyeing the alluring medallion as it continued to hover over the kitchen table.
“I can lend you two some money to escape at a nearby motel or something, but I don’t think it’s safe for you two to be here anymore,” Heeseung said, gruffly scratching his head as he exhaled the remaining oxygen that clogged his throat.
“Shit. What do we do?”
“I’ll contact some helplines nearby to see if they can get you out of this, but for now, you two should probably lay low. Stay in for a few days or so until the coast is clear.”
“Wait, so what about our job?” You interrupted, pulling the blanket even closer to your body.
“Forget about it. For as long as you’re in that truck, something’s probably gonna happen.”
“Like what?” Jongseong listlessly asked, praying that none of the scenarios in his head would come true. There was a part of him that refused to believe in anything that was currently happening to the two of you, but Heeseung’s fear added a sense of realism to what you and Jongseong were going through. It was better to be safe than sorry, and if moving from state to state was what it took to avoid the occult, then he was more than willing to live a nomadic life.
“I don’t know? Us getting kidnapped by a fucking cult?!” You screamed out of the blue, harshly tossing the blanket in Jongseong’s direction. Heeseung immediately began to fill a glass with water, handing it to you as he continued to rub gentle circles on your back. You drank its contents in one go, putting your hands to your chest to feel the extremely quick tempo of your heartbeat.
“Okay true, but what if the entire thing was just a ruse? You know, you can’t really believe everything that’s written on the internet,” Jongseong explained, trying to persuade himself more so than easing the unbridled fear that plagued the other two people in his vicinity.
“Jay, did you hear the fucking radio?! If it was that crusty ass website alone, then yeah, I get it. The whole thing looks like a goddamn joke—but the radio, Jay. The fucking radio. That shit doesn’t sound like some signal that the military bases can produce, and it sure as hell doesn’t sound like your typical radio station to me. Don’t even get me started on that thing on the goddamn table. Do you think people would have some sort of high-tech bullshit that could make it float? Don’t you ever forget that that thing was able to electrocute me. Electrocute. Me. Don’t you see?! We’re fucked, Jay! Absolutely fucked!”
Your screams echoed across Heeseung’s apartment, causing both of them to cower down and cover their ears. You took the time to catch your breath, causing Heeseung to get you another glass of water. Jongseong didn’t take you as the type of person to—for lack of a better word—lose your shit over something so surreal.
But if you were shaken up to this degree, then the chances of it all benign true were within Jongseong’s reach. You and Heeseung—both whom he believed were rational beings that lived within the human definition of logic and reason—had aligned your fears and beliefs of impending doom in the hands of some cult from the depths of the dark web. No matter how hard he tried to appease the rapid rise of fear within him, it was all futile. The only thing for him to do now was to believe that he was in danger and to act accordingly.
“No, but I’m just saying, you know? We’re just two struggling students, I doubt they’d want anything from us.” Jongseong continued, letting out what little fight he had in him left. You gave him a cold stare and surrendered to the safety of the soft blanket over your shoulders, while Heeseung slowly shook his head, heaving a sigh at Jongseong.
“That’s probably why they targeted you two. Desperate students are easy bait, you know?”
“Okay, good point. So, hyung, you’re saying we just stay here for a while?” Jongseong asked, finally surrendering to the prospect of being in danger. If all the evidence pointed to an otherworldly scenario that seemed too fantastical to be true, might as well believe it instead of living in constant denial. That way, he would have at least saved himself from being eaten by a giant octopus monster.
“I’ll drive you two around if you need to go out or something. All I’m asking is for both of you to stay low.”
“Alright.” Jongseong agreed, nodding to seal the deal.
After giving you a dose of sleeping pills, both men carried you out of the soft cushions of Heeseung’s sofa, gently draping the blanket you had held onto so fervently over your entire body. As your jagged breaths eased into smooth, deep inhalations, Heeseung dismissed Jongseong to resign back to the spare bedroom he had woken up in. Jongseong, realizing that any sense of sleep was impossible to him now, had decided to wait out the first sunrise, setting a reminder to wake you up. If that was the last sunrise that he’d ever see, then he might as well spend it with a co-worker he would soon call his close friend, and a reliable adult that he’s grown to call his older brother.
For the remaining half an hour before the clock’s handles reached the big six, Heeseung and Jongseong alternated between power naps. At some point, Jongseong fell into a deep slumber, leaving Heeseung with all the solitude he needed to decode the remaining layers of the car radio’s recording. It was easy to isolate the growls from the group incantations that repeated the same few phrases over and over again, but the hard part was discerning the language itself. Enochian was rather difficult to pick up when spoken in fluency, and the more Heeseung tried to listen, the more he found himself lost in the mumbling enchantments of the supposed cult. Each word rendered him in a trance-like state, which hindered his progress to the point where a single word took about fifteen minutes to decipher. The drowsiness slowly began to take its toll by warping his vision, turning the hummed collective incantations in tongues into sweet, melodic lullabies that reminded him of a time when everything was alright.
Don’t you want a life of bliss? Aren’t you tired of everything around you?
Heeseung knows that what he’s hearing is an illusion. It’s not real. The saccharine voices lull him into a euphoric image of paradise: For Heeseung, that meant a stable career, a long life full of prosperity and endless achievements to his name, and a large property on the beaches to fulfill his full circle into retirement. It was not much to ask, really, but the idea of it being crystal clear—practically within the grasp of his reach—tempted him nonetheless. He was tired of being a student; tired of constantly scavenging the seas of life with uncertainty and high risk; tired of the unwavering eyes that lingered on him; tired of the insect-like people that crawled into his life to bite him in the neck; tired of the permanent itch that he could never seem to scratch; tired of the doubt that tickled him to no end; tired.
Come to me, oh troubled youth.
The medallion was not on the kitchen counter anymore; it floated above Heeseung’s eyes. The once ominous glow that it reflected suddenly transformed into an alluring, iridescent ivory that taunted him. The octopus engraved on the medallion now seemed real; his arms were encircled by the comforts of its eight legs.
Go on, come closer. Come a little closer, and you’ll see.
What did he need to see? He didn’t know the answer to that quite yet, but the octopus—with its holy, angelic, bat-like wings and white, dim eyes the shape of crescents—approached him, descending from above and into the earthly discomforts of his world.
Go on, take my hand.
Its bulbous tentacles shifted and warped into a hazy rendition of a human hand, emitting the same, sanctified aura of ephemerality. He felt the rift between his current world and the gates to whatever awaited him open, and in one, single motion, he placed his gentle palm on the blurred afterimage of a god that glowed with such intense magic—a hypnotic, dream-like trance that he wished he could never wake up from.
You are one of my children now, Heeseung. Sleep ever so gently, and leave the rest to me.
When Jongseong woke up, Heeseung was gone.
He didn’t keep track of how long he was sleeping, and at this rate, he couldn’t tell time apart from its preconceived intervals. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. Days felt like months, and months felt like years. Sometimes, hours seemed to fly by in seconds, ushering in another ray of sunlight that seeped through the transparent, sheer curtains of Heeseung’s apartment.
“Hyung?” He called out. Heeseung’s workstation was intact. The monitor was just as he left it before he took a nap, with the audio interface reflecting sound waves and several controls that he couldn’t wrap his head around. The mouse was slightly tilted on top of his purple mousepad, its accompanying cursor reflecting idleness in the corner of his screen. His prized swivel chair was empty, and Jongseong could have sworn that a meek, thin outline of Heeseung’s silhouette could be traced with the grogginess of his eyes. It was almost like a ghost—hollow, airy, and barren. He thought that all of it was just a hallucination—a mere slip of the memory that caused his eyes to create images from the shadowplay of light and dark that flickered across the white walls of Heeseung’s room. Upon blinking several times, he figured he was wrong. There was a presence that could be felt in the room other than yours and his. There were three people that moved, and yet he could only see himself in the reflection of Heeseung’s glass windows and your still, sleeping figure.
“Hyung? Are you there?” Jongseong called out again, this time with a gravity that was only reserved for moments of absolute fear. Still, there was no response—not a single one that graced the narrowness of his ear canals.
He turned towards you, watching your peaceful face breathe in and out as you clutched the blanket to the helms of your chest. If he hadn’t known your true demeanor, he would’ve expected you to embody the very essence of calm.
“Wake up,” He whispered, drawing his face closer to the sweat-ridden pools of your cheeks. He heaved a sigh of relief upon seeing your body stir into motion, joints slowly animating into that of a conscious human being.
“What’s up?” You asked.
“Heeseung’s gone,”
Your mouth was agape. Your head snapped awake into a sobered rendition of panic, eyes fluttering across all the corners and crevices of Heeseung’s apartment. Surely enough, there were no signs of Heeseung in the room.
“What?!”
“Yeah, Heeseung’s gone.”
Shoving the blanket into the couch, you stood up and marched around the apartment. You checked the kitchen, Heeseung’s room, the workstation, the extra room that momentarily housed Jongseong—everything. When you couldn’t find a single trace of his existence, you repeated everything again and again. Frantic feet fluttered and flew across the entire floor plan of the apartment. You refused to believe he was gone.
“No fucking way,” You whispered. Jongseong didn’t attempt to stop you from examining the entire apartment again, and he joined you, scouring through every nook and cranny for a single trace of Heeseung. After hours of living in a constant state of denial, the two of you retired to the couch in ultimate dejection, the only thing giving Jongseong hope being the medallion that was now dull and lifeless.
“He’s not here,” Jongseong said, eyeing the medallion.
“What do we do, then?” You asked. Traces of violet began to appear in the sky, announcing the return of another day.
“I don’t fucking know,”
“We have to go back,”
“Are you crazy?”
Maybe. If your intuition was correct, then the ice cream truck was the only place with definitive answers. Sure, it seemed like a bogus trick; an invitation into completing a ritual that none of you anticipated.
Before Jongseong could utter another word, you stood up and jogged to the monitor, breathing a sigh of relief upon seeing all of Heeseung’s efforts still intact. For a mysterious cult that kept its secrets under several layers of the deep web, you were surprised at their lack of attention to detail. If you were their leader, you would erase all traces displayed on the monitor, wiping Heeseung’s computer empty. You took your laptop and plugged it into Heeseung’s CPU, transferring all the files necessary for you and Jongseong to complete your task. Then, you took Heeseung’s headphones and replayed his progress in intercepting the code of the radio from the ice cream truck, listening to every beep that he managed to isolate in the few hours that he was present.
33.7931376,-119.6730857,9.07z
Once the numbers were clear, you took a pen from Heeseung’s drawer and began writing each number in clarity, spraying the surface of your skin with sunscreen and waterproof spray. Then, you gave Jongseong a nod of confirmation, beckoning for him to get up from his slump to gather his things.
“What does that say?” Jongseong asked, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder. Before you could reply, you heard the door break down, splinters and bits of wood flying everywhere with an inhumane force. There were three suited men with opaque, black-tinted sunglasses, each with their own earpiece coiled in curled wires stuck to their ears. They didn’t need to introduce themselves; you and Jongseong could already figure out who they were.
They stepped in with heavy, languid steps, messing Heeseung’s apartment up one by one. They started with his room, turning it upside down in a pile of papers, clothes, and items. Then, they split up to scavenge each and every crevice of Heeseung’s apartment, opening every drawer they could find with gloved professionalism. Once they were done, they walked in unison, footsteps matching each rhythm and arms swaying to a marching beat. One of them—who was coincidentally in the middle—showed you his badge with a stern face. Encased within a sleek, black leather card holder was a shiny, golden insignia with an acronym that you were all too familiar with. At the bottom, there were more details about the man under laminated plastic.
“We’re not here to arrest you, ma’am,” The one on the left spoke up. It was difficult to tell the difference when all of them had the same facial features, the same height, and the same demeanor. A part of you wanted to bark back and respond with all the questions that began to swarm within your head, but nothing came out of your mouth. You simply stood in front of them, keeping your arms up. Jongseong began to lower his arms, quickly exchanging glances between the three men in front of you and your still, unwavering, yet apprehensive figure.
“Then why are you here? Jongseong asked. The man on the left stepped in and began patting Jongseong’s body down, snatching his backpack and stuffing his gloved hand in every single pocket he could find. He gave his colleagues another silent nod, and the man on the right did the same, taking your backpack from your firm grasp to plunge into its contents.
“We’re here for an investigation,” The man in the middle replied, fiddling with his earpiece as he watched the other men give him a clear okay sign. They took your backpacks and secured them in a large, plastic container, using a small device to vacuum seal everything in one, tight space. “We will need both of you to come with us and answer a few questions.”
“About what?” Jongseong retorted, knowing that he won’t get any answers anytime soon. The man stood still, using his chin to point at the coordinates written on your wrist.
“About that.” He replied. “There have been several reports of suspicious activity around Venice Beach, and we want your testimony and cooperation to complete this investigation. Unlike the FBI or the forces, we’re not taking silence as a right. Failure to cooperate will result in immediate detainment until further notice.”
“So there’s no way out of this, right?” You finally spoke, breaking your silence to eye the three men with a newfound, boiling anger. “Were you the ones that took Heeseung?”
“We have no obligation to answer.” The one on the left replied, keeping a firm grip on the vacuum-sealed backpacks. In unison, the rest of the suited men nodded.
You stared at Jongseong with wide eyes, helplessness overwhelming the ticks in your lids as you watched him return the same sentiment. At this rate, there was nothing the two of you could do to confirm or deny what was going on. Even if the men in front of you were, indeed, real CIA operatives, there was no guarantee of any of your safety. You’ve heard and read through many stories of the CIA’s interrogation tactics in myriads of open, true crime forums across the internet. Regardless of what would happen, it was bound to be a lose-lose situation for you and Jongseong.
Before taking your hands to the three men, Jongseong suddenly made a break for it, using the small gap between the three men to knock one of their rigid bodies down. Then, he stepped on one of their hands in retaliation, kicking their arm over as he sprinted straight to the demolished door.
It was now or never.
And so, you did the same, only to hear a piercing gunshot that sliced through the silence of dawn. The two remaining men didn’t even bother to chase you, simply standing still as they watched you slowly step out of Heeseung’s apartment. They already knew that this was going to happen, and their expressionless faces broke you into a cold puddle of sweat and tears. Jongseong was now on the floor; there was no blood around his body. An empty syringe was stuck to the nape of his neck, combined with a man in a hazmat suit attempting to pick up his lifeless body.
Now that you were conscious enough to register what was going on around you, you put your arms up in surrender again, this time letting the gruff roughness of the three men behind you force your body into a large black van. As the car began to move, your eyes traced the surrounding area of Heeseung’s apartment, noticing how nobody was awake even after all the commotion. Curtains were drawn still despite the rising sun inviting the eyes and the body to wake up and start their day; a grating silence engulfed the remnants of a college town that was supposed to be bustling with activity; the stillness of the sky stopping all motions of the clouds into a picturesque halt; the emptiness of the parking lot by the apartment complex when there were supposed to be several cars coming and going; the absence of the receptionist’s tiny silhouette as the car continued to take you away from what you supposed was your last taste of freedom and the outdoors. You felt a small prick in the side of your neck, and you snapped your heavy lids at the hazy outline of a man in a hazmat suit, slowly fading into a fleeting, peaceful darkness.
When you woke up, you were tied to a chair in a dark, murky interrogation room. There were tinted silhouettes of several people behind a translucent glass window, each carrying a notepad and a pen in their hands. The three suited men were nowhere to be found, and instead, the scent of coffee and antiseptic overwhelmed your nose. You tried to test the strength of the notes in the ropes with what you learned from several online videos of escape artists, but the waves of fatigue rendered your body into a weak, former shell of what you were once capable of. You directed your eyes at the two people in front of you—a man who looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly and a woman who had the aura and tact of several war veterans wrapped in one.
“I’m really sorry if you’re uncomfortable, but we need to do this to make sure you don’t run away or try anything in this room,” The man sheepishly explained, his freckles aligning the tall bridge of his nose and his slim cheeks. You mustered a small, weak nod, using the back of your hand to feel the material of the rope before heeding the man’s advice.
“My name’s Detective Ryder, and this is my partner, Detective Wong.”
Instead of responding to her name, the detective folded her arms within her chest and gave you a stern, menacing look. Her sleek, short, jet-black hair lined the sharp angles of her jaw and chin, evoking an intenseness that you’ve never seen in anyone before. Her heels bounced back and forth in timely clicks, matching the fast movements of the small handles on her silver wristwatch. Once she was able to finish her observation, she took a bottle of water from her pocket and slid it in your direction, opening it with a swift twist.
“I can’t drink this if my hands are tied,” You whispered, trying your best to ease the stutters in your voice. Detective Wong looked up at the ceiling, then shifted her gaze back to you with reluctant apologeticness. She then used an earpiece on her right to page someone into the room. In what felt like a single second, a man clad in camouflage busted into the room with a plastic, red bendy straw. She gave the soldier a bow, then gently placed the straw at the opening of the water bottle. You muttered a small thank you under your breath and craned your neck to take a few sips. Perhaps hydration was what you needed to get rid of the permanent haze entrenched in your vision.
“I also wanted to disclose this since it’s sort of like company policy to us, but we injected you with a truth serum before this.” Detective Ryder said, twitching his eyebrows to convey guilt.
Maybe water wasn’t the cure to your grogginess after all.
Detective Ryder cleared his throat, exchanging glances with his partner before taking the empty seat in front of you. Detective Wong did the same, taking a large, hardcover notebook from her leather briefcase and a metallic, silver pen. She flipped through several pages and folded an empty, lined sheet, taking a folder from her briefcase that looked like it had your details on it. Through the corner of your tired eyes, you saw a small clipping of what looked like a passport photo you’d taken a few years ago—a default picture you used for every government paper and visa application you’ve done as of late. Using her long, nimble fingers, she etched each detail of your profile into a new entry in her notebook, giving a curt nod to Detective Ryder once she was done. You tried your best to read the little notes she added, but her penmanship was akin to a continuous, curved line with no form or substance.
“Alright,” Detective Ryder started with a smile, “just so you know, I don’t want to use violence in any shape or form. I’m against it myself, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to get hurt as well. So, for both of us, I really hope you’re willing to cooperate and tell us everything you know,”
So far, it was easy to tell which one was the good cop; Detective Ryder was not the nice one out of the two. He may be the more outspoken one, but you knew that this was an easy trap. From your hours of consuming true crime cases and documentaries on the internet, it was common knowledge to you that the silent ones were the most forgiving. People that tended to be more extroverted in these types of professions often exhibited borderline sociopathic behavior—which isn’t something you would’ve liked to remind yourself in your current situation. Then again, who were you to judge? The people online were just as clueless as you when it came to the realities of criminal justice.
“I’m scared of you.” You suddenly blurted. To your surprise, the two detectives were right about the truth serum.
“You shouldn’t be!” Detective Ryder reassured with an eerily wide smile. Detective Wong heaved a sigh and continued to switch glances between her notebook, her pen, and you, jotting everything down in quick, rapid succession. “I’m just like you! I have a job to do, and I just wanna do it right.”
“Speaking of jobs, you were working at the Inlet Waves ice cream truck down by Venice Beach, right?” He asked. You nodded. The truth serum did more to you than you would’ve liked.
“When did you start working there?”
“Literally like a day,”
“Who was your employer?”
“Williams. I don’t know if that’s his first name or not.”
“Okay,” The pen scratches from Detective Wong’s notebook permeated and echoed back and forth between the stuffy, ventilated enclosure of the room. Detective Ryder nodded his head to every single question you answered, gleefully scrolling through a notepad that magically appeared out of thin air.
“Who’s your co-worker?”
“Park Jongseong.”
“Your affiliation with him?”
“I just met him.”
“Anything more?”
“No,”
Maybe the water did help after all. If it didn't, then you would've had the immense displeasures of confessing your amicable feelings towards your new workmates to the detectives. He was your friend now, and your stubborn pride was lucky enough to thwart the possibility of it becoming a sense of verbal reality, entrenched in the embarrassing—albeit memorable—time you've shared with him at the truck. It was something you couldn't accept or believe in, but the thought of protecting Jongseong mixed with the dilutive effects of water did, in some ways, help you recall some of the pharmaceutical knowledge you retained from your classes.
There was no such thing as a truth serum, and barbituates essentially produced the same effect that morphine or any anxiety-reducing drug delivered.
Morphine hits the back of the legs first; your legs were numb. Then, the back of the neck; your neck was solid and still. A spreading wave of relaxation slackening the muscles away from the bones so that you seem to float without outlines; fatigue didn’t stop you from feeling as light as a feather. All at once, you felt your wrists loosen from the tight knots of the ropes around your arms, gently tugging at the bulbous lock until you could feel the tension in your hand disappears. Like lying in warm salt water; the air was briny and your body was afloat. You swam through the two detectives, who slowly drowned in a dark, bottomless abyss. The people behind the glass borders now embodied all types of fish and critters in the deep sea, wandering in wavering bouts of random confusion. To them, you were a large, majestic whale—a sight to behold and fear as you slowly kicked the seat that kept your massive fins captive. As this relaxing wave spread through your tissues, you experience a strong feeling of fear; the fear that you felt was knowing you were now unstoppable. A series of pictures passed your head in fleeting, rapid screens, repeating and rewinding a vision of metallic hallways, a basement, several bolted doors, and a scene of Jongseong in vivid technicolor, taking the driver’s seat and driving you back to where it all started: Venice Beach on a hot, summer day.
Anything more?
The walls started to crumble, its silver linings, nuts and bolts, and metallic surface transforming into the vast, endless sea that constantly called your name. Detective Ryder and Detective Wong were no more; they were just a bunch of fish that you could devour at any second. After all, what could stop you? You were a whale—the apex predator in the aquatic ecosystem. You were the biggest, most powerful being that inhabited the oceans, and no creature could stop your rampage.
That is, no creature but the Old Ones. The Old Ones were waiting for you, the last addition to their council. There was the squid and the octopus; Doalim, the squid disciple and Ascha Drilpa Zodinu, the supreme creator of all beings.
Come to me.
In a quick, bright flash, you, the whale, joined the Old Ones, travelling up to the infinite skies dyed in red to become the third moon that looked over the earth. It was your calling, and you replied. Soon enough, nothing will matter anymore; the earth was in the hands of Ascha and its loyal disciples.
“Let’s get out of here, come on!”
Jongseong pushed you into the passenger’s seat of a red, vintage Mustang. You looked back, and the skies had suddenly turned into a deep, dark shade of red. There were three moons in the sky, each hosting a different shape and a different type of glow. Jongseong had several bruises and scars around his face and body, lopsidedly treated with several band-aids and dirty cloth that probably came from tearing his shirt apart. In the backseat, there was a hazmat suit with two gas masks, along with Heeseung’s peaceful, sleeping figure. You looked back and watched Jongseong stomp on the accelerator, causing your body to flail back and forth until you hit your head on the glove box.
“What the hell happened?” You screamed, massaging your temples to ease the bruising. Jongseong took a deep breath, eyes concentrated on the red-tinted roads ahead of him. In fact, the entire city of Los Angeles was dyed in an ominous shade of red. You rolled your windows up to take in some fresh air, only for Jongseong to slap your palm away with his free hand. Rotten eggs. The stench of rotten eggs was everywhere.
“Wear that if you want to breathe,” Jongseong replied, raising his voice to defeat the noise from the car that was slowly starting to fall apart. He jutted his chin at the gas masks next to Heeseung, and you immediately took one, securing its massive shape within the confines of your tiny hand. The medallion that seemed to have caused all the trouble that you and Jongseong went through was protected in the safety of the cup holders next to you, emitting a bright, reddish glow that acted as your only source of light for the entire trip.
“You didn’t answer my question, Jay!” You repeated, a shrill shriek escaping your lips when Jongseong stomped on the breaks. This time, you didn’t flinch. Your body was encased in the tight safety of the seatbelt, and you prepared yourself by holding onto one of the railings in the car. “What the hell happened?!”
“To be honest, I don’t fucking know either,” Jongseong spat. “I woke up, got punched in the gut, then got told to answer some questions, and before I knew it, some freak shot the entire room up with laser beams coming out of his eyes—like Superman or something, but evil.”
“I think you’re high on morphine, because they put a truth serum in us, bozo.” You replied, refusing to buy Jongseong’s statement. Even if being caught in the mess of a cult and the CIA was the last thing you wanted, you at least hoped for a cool escape plan that you would remember for the rest of your life—not some form of deus ex machina that played to your benefit.
“Well, you better believe me, because that giant octopus thingy is right in front of us,”
As if on cue, a large, gigantic tentacle descended from the skies, dusting a flurry of sand in all the windows that the car could offer. Jongseong quickly took a gas mask and bolted out of the car, leaving you and an unconscious Heeseung in a state of panicked uncertainty. You climbed to the back seat and put on the extra gas mask, shaking Heeseung with what strength you had left. Once it was clear that there were no signs of him waking up, you swallowed a large, gulp of saliva that accumulated in your mouth. Taking a single deep breath in, you closed your eyes and counted to three, hoping that everything would disappear once you opened your eyes. Upon seeing the same, decrepit car, the smell of leaking gasoline filling your nose, and Heeseung’s chest falter into a rigid state of stillness, you opened the car door and slammed it shut, standing next to Jongseong as you eyed the large, octopoid creature fully ascend from the erratic, red waves of the blood-ridden ocean.
III: ONE WAY TRIGGER
Jongseong never believed in monsters. Hell, he wasn’t even the type to believe in anything that he deemed too nerdy for his liking. As an only child, he was surprised that he didn’t succumb to what he perceived as the loner’s guide to becoming anti-social: tabletop games, the allure of the supernatural, a firm belief in aliens, and an abundance of fantasy or horror novels that fed wild visions of creatures that were too grotesque for the human eyes to see. It was often a rarity that he prided himself in; he wasn’t odd or weird by the standards that most only children seemed to face. He was, in essence, what was supposed to be a normal person with normal interests. He had a watchful eye on his health; he was in a fraternity; his life was dictated by alcohol-ridden parties that would render him nauseous the next day; he didn’t read too many books; he was a business major; he invested in stocks; he had a childhood filled with memories of playing rugby with his friends from all over the world; he only dabbled into philosophy to impress a girl he found attractive in his ethics elective.
In short, Park Jongseong was never the type of guy to imagine himself involved in a catastrophe centered around a giant, octopoid creature that ascended from the deep depths of the ocean, hungry and angry at the world for disturbing its slumber.
The creature called Ascha Drilpa Zodinu was, in all its glory, something straight out of a horror film that Jongseong has probably seen a few times as a test of courage with his friends. He didn’t remember all the details, but he could recall the ominous, menacing, and ever so brooding fear that bubbled inside of him as a young child. He’s seen Godzilla—both the original version and the American remake—enough to know that it was a metaphor for the prospects of an all-out, nuclear war. Things like Godzilla weren’t meant to exist; they were just tell-tale folklore meant to correct the errs of humanity. Allegories, as his film professor might’ve said in a lecture that he was too tired to pay attention to.
It was difficult to comprehend the sheer monolith of the monster right in front of him. Even if Ascha Drilpa Zodinu did have the general shape of an octopus, its size was what put Jongseong off. For one, the medallion and the illustrations he saw on the cult’s website didn’t do the creature any amount of justice. Despite its grotesque, hideous look, he had to admit that there was a mysterious, magnetic allure to the creature that drew him in. It was terrifying, but that’s what made it oddly beautiful. Its eight tentacles were spread out of the mass surface of the ocean, covering the horizon with spiked, bulbous curves that trickled and oozed with a green, slimy texture that made him dispense what little he ate into the hot beds of sand. The red, ghastly glow of its crescent-shaped eyes was brighter than the sun, dyeing the entire city in a tantalizing, neon, red glow that hurt his eyes. Its bat-like wings covered the entire sea, fluttering with a heaviness that shook the earth and the waters into a tsunami that threatened to succumb all of Los Angeles into a second Atlantis. He didn’t know if the creature had eight or ten arms, but the wings had a sentience of their own, retracting sharp claws that gnashed and trembled at the roaring waves. Its body whirled around in patterns of inconsistency, creating hurricanes from the tip of its nails with its wings and bringing a thunderous clap that engulfed the beach in throes of thick, green goo. Through the blurry lenses of his gas mask, he managed to examine the goo with his fingers, flinching at its hot temperature.
In some ways, he wished he lived the stereotypical life of a nerdy, lonesome only child. If he lived out his life in the fantastical world of make believe, then he would’ve had a chance or an inkling of preparedness for the unlikely situation that he currently found himself in. Perhaps defeating a dragon in an intricate Japanese RPG would have given him the knowledge and know-hows in finding the weakest part of every monster. Maybe if he read more fantasy novels, he would’ve known the secret to appease an angry god in a rampage to destroy all of humankind. If he accepted the invite to the tabletop society in his university, playing a single round of Dungeons and Dragons, then he would’ve been able to predict and control the outcome of having an old, supposedly wise monster suddenly show its face in the mundanities of earthly desires. All of the outcomes that Jongseong could’ve chosen played at the back of his head in repeated scenes of a childhood lost to the expectations and pressures of normalcy and sociability, continually haunting him in a loop that made him regret all of the choices he made up to now. Jongseong didn’t know himself any better than he would’ve if he caved into his own interests, and in a sense, he was ashamed that it took the awakening of an old beast to realize that he didn’t need to prove himself to anyone. He didn’t need to get along with other people to create a facade that would bear a heavy weight on his shoulders for the rest of his life, and he certainly didn’t need to fake a smile so he could reach the satisfaction of what status and popularity had to offer. Now that he’s given himself some time to think about everything (the concept of time didn’t seem to exist anymore once Ascha Drilpa Zodinu decided to wake up and wreak havoc in Venice Beach), he realized that he could’ve found a better source of happiness playing tabletop games in a dingy basement where superficial notions of human character ceased to exist.
He looked at your slumped figure—a gas mask covering the top of your face and your body protected in a neon yellow hazmat suit that contested the monster’s red, beaming eyes. You slowly trudged forward, meeting him halfway before collapsing into the soft beds of sand that engulfed you in its warm, tender embrace. Jongseong immediately rushed to your aid, taking his gloved hand and checking your wrist for any signs of life. To his luck, he didn’t lose another friend.
You slowly raised your hand and curled your fingers opened, revealing the medallion that started it all. Jongseong immediately picked it up with fragile delicacy and gently tossed it to the side, watching your body slowly animate in its absence. Another thud boomed across the entire shoreline, accompanied by a large wave that momentarily splashed the two of you in lukewarm trails of blood, goo, and briny seawater. Time was of the essence, and there was no telling when the octopoid monster would reach the shores.
“What do we do?” Jongseong asked, momentarily taking his mask off to breathe in the stench of sulfur.
“You tell me, bitch boy,” You replied, doing the same as you stood up and watched the creature in awe.
Unlike Jongseong, you took the route that he could’ve taken in his life, spending your time playing video games with your brother and reading pages upon pages about monsters. The only difference, though, is that you never believed in any of those things. To you, they were a source of entertainment—a fun escape from the grueling realities of academic excellence and a tight schedule of embodying the tropes of a model student. It was, in essence, something that you could fall back on whenever you were tired of the world. Now that you thought about it, though, you would much rather suffer through endless hours of studying at the academy than go through the troubles of fantasy protagonists in a whirlwind quest to find treasures beyond the earthly values of money and power. With the creature coming closer and closer, all you could think about was how unlucky those so-called heroes were. Why waste your youth on the pursuit of glory when it was futile? You would much rather live a life of ignorance; it was a merciful blessing for humans to have the inability to correlate all the world’s contents. No one was ever meant to voyage far into the unknown, and in a way, the call of survival was to know where the borders and limitations of curiosity were. Now that you’d known too much, you felt that you would go mad from opening up the terrifying vistas of reality—a revelation that immediately destroyed the safety of peace and safety for a dark age that you were sure you didn’t want to witness.
Through the corners of your eyes, you saw the outline of the truck that you once called your workplace. With all the strength that you could muster, you began sprinting towards it, taking the medallion with you even if it sucked out all of your energy. Jongseong reluctantly followed suit. He didn’t question anything when there was nothing for him to question. In such a dire time, all he could do was act on whatever he saw. If he saw you run, then he’d follow. It was better to die with someone else than to die alone.
To your surprise, the sprint to the ice cream truck was short. The rustic paint job of the truck was now within your line of view, coupled with the stench of rotting eggs becoming too strong for you to ignore. You put your gas mask back on, and Jongseong followed suit, momentarily stopping behind you to see the mountain of corpses clad in dark, velvet robes. If his intuition was correct, these were the last remnants of the cult that worshipped Ascha Drilpa Zodinu—the so-called chosen ones who didn’t make it despite their devotion to their god and savior. It was all ironic, in a sense. Jongseong didn’t think he would feel empathy towards a group of people that endangered his life, but seeing himself in the same position made him feel a bottomless well of pity that struck a chord in his heart. Just like them, he was a person who devoted his entire life to the societal notions of affability and success, rendering him a prisoner in the game of life. Regardless of who he was as a person, he was bound to become a product of a stagnant, dying system that required all of his hard work and devotion, only being repaid with a salary that could barely sustain his life and his pursuits of happiness.
You stepped over the bodies with shaky ease, climbing on top of each with the soles of your scuffed sneakers. Once Jongseong was inside, you kicked some of the cloaked bodies inside the truck out of the vehicle, closing it shut once you were done with your task. Jongseong assisted you with the heavier bodies, and the two of you worked in unspoken coordination as you got rid of them one by one.
“Do you think that’s Williams?” Jongseong asked. The body in question was rotund, with slabs of fat seeping out of the heavy, velvet cloak that covered his entire body. You unsheathed his hood and examined his features—a bearded man with a round face sporting thick, rectangular frames. He looked about fifty, with some of his hair thinning out and turning into an oily shade of white. As you continued to examine his body, you found a tattoo on his arm that had the same insignia as the medallion.
“Probably,” You replied, “He looks like someone who’d die from lung cancer, and he did have the voice of an old, obese man with heart problems.”
You took the medallion and tossed it into the cup holders by the driver’s seat, leaving the disposal of the body to Jongseong. To your luck, the key to the truck was right by the glovebox, and you took it to start the vehicle. Jongseong reconvened with you and took the passenger’s seat, heaving a choked breath once he removed his gas mask.
The stench of rotten eggs persisted, but the sweet aroma of vanilla and an assortment of fruits managed to make everything in the truck somewhat breathable. You owed it to whoever was in the truck last—presumably the cult—who left the coolers of ice cream and popsicles open to allow its thick, melted contents to waft into the air. With a few tries, the truck’s engine began to roar, and you gave Jongseong a quick high-five before keeping your eyes on the blood-ridden windshield.
“What the hell do we do now?” Jongseong asked again. The medallion began to float in the air again, fighting the vast darkness of the truck with its red glow.
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because you’re the nerd out of both of us, dipshit.”
“Well…”
You stared at the medallion, eyes tracing its trajectory. Before it could hurl itself against the window, Jongseong caught it mid-air with his gloved hand. He tore off the hems of his shirt and tied some of its string around the punctured hole at the top of the medallion, letting it dangle near the glovebox as he waited for your answer.
“What are you gonna do with it?”
“I still don’t know, but I think if we try to let it know we have it, it might stop its rampage,”
“Isn’t there a chance that it gets even more erratic than it was before?”
Usually, artifacts were a good sign in video games—at least, when they were used right. Most of the plots you’ve seen unfold in your endless pursuit of action RPGs had an architect or a group of scientists mistakenly experiment on an ancient artifact, leaving it up to the player to return it back to where it came from. Since the medallion supposedly came from the sea, then perhaps tossing it back into the ocean would finally put the creature back to rest.
“Yeah, but there’s no harm in trying. I hate this city, but that’s why I love it. I’m not about to let some goddamn octopus ruin my chances of getting a degree. My parents paid a shit ton of money to send me here, and the scholarship can’t go to waste, either.”
“Same,”
Before you could reply, your stomach started to grumble, reverberating its moans and groans across the entirety of the truck. You nodded your head to Jongseong, stepping out of the driver’s seat to let him take the lead. As much as you hated to admit it, he was the better driver out of the two of you. The fact that he managed to narrowly escape a high-security facility with a run-down Mustang made you reconsider his perceived lack of skills.
“There’s probably some ice cream in the cooler if you’re hungry,” Jongseong muttered. He reversed the truck from its parked position and began to drive forward, plunging its tires into the shallow entrance of the sea. You felt your body move with the waves, prompting you to cover your nose to quickly cure the nausea that began to overtake your body.
“Ew, I guess I can’t have a snack now,” You lamented, eyeing the groups of coolers with a mixture of seasickness and hunger. There was no harm in searching the entirety of the cooler to fish out an unmelted pot of ice cream or a berry-flavored popsicle. After all, you had every right to treat yourself with what could be your last meal of your lifetime.
“There’s no time for that!”
“I know, I know.”
The octopoid creature turned its eyes toward the truck, the radiance beaming from its massive eyes illuminating the entire vehicle in a tint of dark red. Instead of flailing its tentacles toward the two of you, it stopped in its tracks, calmly laying down eight of its tentacles. Using the flow of all of its arms, it managed to create a gentle ebb and flow that lulled the truck forward. The medallion ceased all motions, now swaying with the same rhythms of the ocean like a metronome dictating the melodies of a calm sonata.
“So, what’s the plan?”
“We’re using the medallion as bait, getting it closer to the truck so we can ram this shit inside its mouth or something,”
“Gross,” Jongseong whispered, eyes still focused on the unexpected event that unfolded before his very eyes. Tiny dots of helicopters and airplanes began to form a constellation in the dark abyss of the ominous skies, and he stopped the engines of the truck all at once.
“Then, we’re gonna play the recording of the radio that Heeseung managed to salvage, using your laptop to plug it into the system,” You explained, scouring through the truck before realizing that all of your stuff was with the CIA.
“Fuck!”
Jongseong heaved a sigh, closing his eyes to mourn the scenario of hope that was pictured in his head. If fate had it that he was to become the sacrifice to appease the rampages of a lonesome god, then so be it. At this rate, he had nothing to lose.
“Jay, your phone!” You suddenly screamed, eyes glimmering the same way they did whenever the two of you would play a round of Smash Bros in the same truck that was to be your coffin.
“What about it?” Jongseong asked.
“Do you have it with you?”
“Yeah, it’s in my pocket, but I need to charge it,” He said. He slipped his sleek smartphone on top of the glovebox, watching you tirelessly search through the truck for anything that could salvage your plan.
“There’s a charging port right there!” You exclaimed with jovial delight, pointing at the USB ports below the air conditioner and the car radio. “I think we’ll have enough time to distract that thing until your phone turns on. Then, we can plug that into the system and play the recording that you took when we were back here—you know, before Heeseung picked us up.”
“Sweet,”
You took Jongseong’s phone and a USB cable from one of the compartments of the truck, quickly plugging his phone into the port. Once the image of a battery began to pop up, you breathed a sigh of relief and gave Jongseong another effortless high-five.
“Start the engine again, and drive straight into that fucker,”
“Gotcha, captain,”
Through the corner of Jongseong’s eyes, he could see the metallic surface of several military-grade submarines appear underwater. The helicopters and airplanes finally came into view, circling around the behemoth of a monster. Sparks of orange and white began to emerge from each air-borne vehicle, disturbing the momentary peace that the two of you had with the monster. In an instant, the calm seas began to roar with the rage of a tempest, rocking the truck back and forth with an uneasy tremble. You took Jongseong’s phone the moment it showed his lock screen—a photo of himself and his father at his high school graduation. After letting Jongseong enter his password, you scrolled through each of his recordings in his files, playing the most recent one.
“Brace yourselves, boys,” You signaled, covering your ears before hitting play.
A cacophony of shrieks, patterned beeps, and cries for help began to emerge from the old speakers of the car radio. You reluctantly turned the volume even louder, immediately covering your ears to the of your best abilities. Jongseong turned the keys to the car, stomping on the accelerator to beat the submarines and reach the creature first. The closer the truck got to the octopoid creature, the louder the recording became. The octopoid creature immediately softened its rampage, letting out an otherworldly cry as it used its wings to pick up the truck.
Now, the two of you were face-to-face with the creature that was meant to devour the two of you. You closed your eyes and said all your goodbyes in a hasty eulogy, and Jongseong kept his feet on the accelerator, breath hitched as the face of the monster drew closer and closer to the windshield. There was no time for you or Jongseong to study the creature and memorize all of its features, but it was rather difficult to not be faced with the presence of a being that could only be seen once in a blue moon. You took all of its shapes and curves in—the slimy sheen that covered its entire body; the brittle scaliness of its tentacles; the beaming eyes that constantly emitted a bright, red glow; its bat-like wings that scraped and sliced through thin air; claws large enough to cut the earth in half; floating bubbles of what could be blood from all of the sacrifices it had the pleasures of eating; a red, ring-like halo around its entire body that reminded you of Saturn; the way it moved against the laws of time. You tried your best to picture all of it before you were bound to forget.
“Do it,”
You couldn’t hear Jongseong at all. The truck was wrapped in a momentary halt of radio silence, and the driver’s seat was now empty. You took the medallion from the glovebox and opened the car’s window, muttering a string of curses before tossing the medallion in the creature’s direction. Time seemed to stop as the helicopter’s wings and the airplanes in the sky were suspended in a lack of motion, with strings of bullets and bombs seeping through the air in an untimely flurry, stopping right before the creature’s massive body. Some of the submarines that were once submerged in the ocean arose into full view, accompanied by flights of aircraft carriers and large gunboats that also fired their rounds at the monster. The only thing that seemed to move despite all the commotion was the medallion that slowly made its way to the monster, slowing down time into fragmented frames that made its trajectory a series of picture slides that your mom often showed you as a young child. The moment the medallion reached the octopoid creature, a female, human shriek pierced through your ears, mumbling and screaming in an ancient, incoherent language that was lost to time. You didn't bother trying to decipher what the voice was saying; you couldn’t feel any sensation in your limbs or your legs. The octopoid creature was now bathed in bright, heavenly lights—almost like a halo that encased it in an exorcism. This very light blinded you, and for a moment, you thought that heaven was within your reach—palpable, soothing, and tranquilizing. You closed your eyes one last time, basking yourself in its divine glow.
SEVERAL DEAD IN A LARGE FIRE: VENICE BEACH’S FIRST TRAGEDY SINCE THE BURNING OF THE BOARDWALK
Luca Fahy was never someone who checked the news. He didn’t really care about the world, and he cared even less about what happened outside of the comforts of his own life. To him, the news was a reminder of the old country—a place he escaped to start over and reinvent himself and his cultural identity. Sometimes, his parents would tell him stories about Belfast, but that didn’t matter to him. Belfast was as far away as Antarctica to him now; nothing in his current lifestyle brought any ties back to the city that marred his childhood.
Perhaps the news was something that reminded him of Belfast—which was why he didn’t want to read it at all, even if it undermined any forms of social banter that often accompanied his circle and beyond. To his misfortunes, the news played center stage in the everyday conversations of the average American person. This was probably because there was nothing newsworthy about the country for them to want to tune out and forget about the ills of the world. For a country like the United States, Luca saw how events that transpired around the world—wars, famine, disease—were trinkets of misery that fueled the lack of entertainment for a group of people that seemingly had it all. If he grew up in America, he would most certainly see the Shankhill Road bombing as a suspense film more so than an event that he wanted to forget.
“Hey, you’re Luca, right?” A familiar accent that he hated rang in his ears. He turned his head around and saw the only person he could tolerate that came from the same place that he did.
“I’ve been telling you my name for the past seven years now, Dan,” He snarkily replied, crushing the newspaper into a fine, small ball before tossing it into his overfilled trash can.
“You’ve been my supplier since we both migrated here, remember?”
Dan gave Luca a goofy, air-headed smile and sunk his body into Luca’s sofa. Luca could never tell if Dan’s forgetfulness was something that was always with him, or if it was a product of his problems with addiction. There was another part of him that thought of Dan doing all of this on purpose, but he chalked it up to one of his egotistical tendencies. It was better to think of Dan as a person that would deliberately forget things to talk to him—that way, he would feel better about seeing Dan more often.
“My bad,” He spoke in their mother tongue. Luca thought his ears would fall off.
“So, why are you here?” Luca asked. Dan was never serious, so it was pretty obvious to Luca or anybody else that had the pleasures—or displeasures—of knowing Dan to see the signs of his sobriety. Right now, he was standing upright, eyes wide awake in the absence of whatever illicit substance he managed to get his hands on.
“You saw the news, didn’t you?” Dan said, pointing at the crumpled newspaper that rolled out of Luca’s trash can.
“One of our brothers worked at Venice Beach—a Korean named Jay Park.”
“I know,”
This surprised Luca. To his knowledge, Dan was never the type of guy to interact with any of the brothers of Sigma Phi Epsilon unless he was making a drug deal. Even if Jay was a new face, Luca could never forget him. He was the only brother who never talked to girls during parties, and he was certainly the type to steer clear from drugs, only opting to consume copious amounts of alcohol whenever he saw fit.
“One of my friends also worked with him. That’s how I got to know him. He was a pretty chill dude, and we played a bunch of games together for a short while.”
“Oh?”
Jay was at the hospital. Luca had managed to visit him from time to time, but lately, he was overwhelmed with the prospects of graduation. In a sense, Jay’s unyielding determination brought the fraternity with positive reinforcement. After his initiation and ascension into the position of the new scholar chair in such a short time, he managed to raise the average GPA to record-breaking heights. This included giving Luca the motivation to sort everything with his life out and accept that it was high time for him to resign as a student. There was no point in living a fairytale of endless parties and drug abuse when eventually, it was all bound to disappear.
Now that Luca has thought about it, Jay was the only person he talked to that made the news sound bearable. Every time he would catch Jay in the house, he would always bring up whatever headline he saw on his phone, letting Jay fill in the details. To this day, he didn’t know what it was about the boy that made him want to hear the news, but it was a refreshing routine that he looked forward to.
“What do you think really happened at Venice Beach?” Dan suddenly asked, taking the question out of Luca’s mouth. Though he didn’t want to admit it, nor was he suspect of conspiracy theories and the paranormal, he found it rather odd that you and Jay disappeared before the incident transpired. It was not like Jay at all to miss meetings and parties without notifying the other brothers first, and the lack of burn marks on his body didn’t convince him that Jay fell victim to the so-called fires.
“Beats me, mate. Some smog or something innit,”
Dan gave Luca another shrug, resting his head on the hilt of Luca’s unwashed pillow. Luca turned to face Dan and crossed his legs, eyeing the man with a newfound appreciation. It already surprised him that he cared about the incident, and he was left flabbergasted at the thought of someone like Dan showing any signs of empathy at what he might’ve called a measly fire. The two of them have seen worse things back in their home country, so why would he care about a small event now?
“Yeah, it’s probably the smog…” Dan replied, the picture of pensiveness etched on his thin, straight lips. “She didn’t have any burn marks either—you know? My friend who worked with Jay. When I went to visit her, she was unconscious. Sleeping as peaceful as a baby. I went and gone asked for the autopsy, but the nurses refused to give it to me. Isn’t that weird?”
“Maybe it has something to do with privacy,” Luca interrupted, his voice faltering into the trenches of doubt. “You know people here aren’t like what we were. Client confidentiality and all that bullshit.”
“She had some sort of tacky necklace on her, one that I’ve never seen before. It looked like a really old coin or something, like the shit that Indiana Jones would try to look for in one of his movies.”
“Dan, I don’t watch movies.” Luca hastily rebuked.
“My bad, mate.”
Dan got up from his position and headed straight to the door, waving Luca goodbye as he disappeared into wherever he went. Luca craned his neck and peeked his head to his door, checking for any trace of Dan in the building. He then stood up to lurk around his window, slightly opening his curtains to see Dan’s hooded figure leaving the premises of the frat house. Once he was gone, Luca closed the door shut and picked the newspaper up from his carpeted floor, opening it once more to skim through its contents.
(CNN)—Another wave of wildfire smoke has drifted into the state of California, turning the summer into a smog-ridden dystopia of trouble and the impending doom of climate change.
In what started as a small, mom-and-pop ice cream truck, two employees saved the day by alerting officials and calling the wildfire team to dispatch the fire immediately. So far, more than three million people are still under air quality alerts across the entire state—stemming from all the way to the Bay Area down to the North of San Diego. Conditions are expected to improve slowly into the first few weeks of July, and scientists continue to reiterate warnings on the potential connection between the Venice Beach fires and the onset of climate change.
Luca heaved a sigh and kept the newspaper clipping under the depths of his desk drawer. He put his letter jacket over his shoulders and headed out for the door. If he was lucky, then rain would start to pour some time later, when he was bound to come back from the hospital. So far, he had only checked up on Jay, but he figured he should visit you as well, examining the necklace that Dan talked about once and for all.
EPILOGUE: 80S COMEDOWN MACHINE
Ah, yes. Summer vacation. It was a time for students and all those that are unemployed to enjoy themselves. The sun was out, the beaches were shimmering, and sweaty pools of odor and musk were pretty much unavoidable. For Jongseong—or Jay, as he would like to call himself since he moved to Florida—it was a delightful occasion to look forward to. He could finally stop getting brain-freeze and indulge in copious amounts of ice cream without worrying about his figure. After all, it was bulking season, not cutting season. The only way he could show his guns out to everyone that seemed to care is if he had the energy to sustain copious amounts of hours at the gym performing the same, six exercises that he knows. He didn’t care if he looked ridiculous doing so; he looked great.
Apart from maintaining a Promethean physique alongside a Sisyphean work ethic, he believed that the summer season was also a period of self-reflection and catering to his parents' demands of academic excellence and a six-figure job by the end of his degree. Though he wasn’t necessarily struggling with his courses (he was told he could graduate early if he concentrated more on coursework during the summer semester), he didn’t want to live that life. That was the reason he didn’t pursue engineering or medicine; he wanted to live a little. It wasn’t as if his parents were aware of it, anyway—so long as he told them that he was attending summer school and he was actively looking for a part-time job or an internship to fulfill the emptiness of free time, he was pretty much in the clear.
As he stood in front of a surf shop by the shores of Venice Beach, resume in one hand and sheer determination in another, he stepped inside, his spine shivering at the sound of the wind chime welcoming him inside the premises of the sawdust-scented store. He was proud of himself—not because he finally got his ass up and decided to get a job, but because he was earlier than you for the interview. He didn’t deny that you were the more punctual out of the duo, but he couldn’t accept the fact that you had more things to brag about in your resume than him. You had several years of experience managing small concerts in tiny venues under your belt, which apparently qualified as customer service in the eyes of every interviewer. It was somewhat embarrassing for him that his resume was extremely empty, and the fact that he didn’t even consider working for a fast-food joint or in retail continued to surprise him. To be fair, he wasn’t lazy, per se—he was just irrationally worried at the prospect of sacrificing academics for disposable income. Additionally, he didn’t really need a job. His parents continued to send him his allowance, and luckily, his rent stayed the same. The only reason he decided to get a job in the first place was to keep himself busy—and, of course, to prove you wrong about one thing: his flirting game.
Instead of triumphantly entering the shop to ask for an immediate interview, however, he saw your ecstatic silhouette leave a hidden back door with what could only look like the embodiment of a serial surfer. He had spiky, golden hair flat to the sheen with too much gel, a pooka shell necklace that was ten years too late, and a spray tan that made him look like a withering tomato more so than the pinnacle of a Greek god. You passed by Jongseong with a large, smug grin on your face, giving him a smooth high five before dragging his shoulders and whispering right into his ear.
“I got the job,”
“Fuck you,”
The withering tomato gave Jongseong a weary shaka sign, followed by a warm handshake that almost sent him flying across the other side of the shop, potentially crashing into the neatly lined surfboards of all sorts of colors and shapes.
“Braddah, I’m sorry but slots are full,” He said, with an offensively fake accent. “The yogurt shop next door is hiring doe,”
“No thank you,” Jongseong quickly replied. You shared the same sentiment, nervously laughing it off as an automatic reaction. There was no way the two of you would ever work for an ice cream truck ever again.
“Do you know Luca?” You suddenly asked. The man promptly nodded, looking at you with newfound confusion.
“He’s my homie brah,”
“Cool! Because Jay’s homies with that guy, too! He’s in Sigma Phi Epsilon, and he’s pretty close with a lot of the brothers there!”
The man then embraced Jongseong in a warm hug that reeked of body spray and deodorant. Jongseong reluctantly returned the gesture; his employment depended on it.
“Jay’s also pretty close to the sorority girls in our university, so he’s a valuable asset for your surfing lessons!” You chimed in, watching Jongseong’s face contort from utter shock to faux bravado. The man’s eyes widened as he circled his large, muscular arms around Jongseong’s neck in a near chokehold.
“You’re hired, braddah! I used to be a braddah like you when I was still in school, braddah!”
If Jongseong could earn a penny for all the times his new boss said brother, he would have about ten by now. It’s not much, but the value would mature over time, eventually pushing his salary outside the boundaries of the minimum wage. You gave Jongseong a subtle wink and took one of the surfboards from the shop, tucking its large frame under your arms as you adjusted the straps of your bikini top.
“You on?” You asked. Somehow, Jongseong felt like he’s seen all of this before.
“Loser has to close up,” He confidently replied. Judging from the way you looked, he was sure he’d work overtime on his first shift. Even if he knew there was no point in trying to win against you—whether it was a game of Smash Bros or an impromptu prank war—he nonetheless rode the waves to a lifetime of defeat.
“You’re on, bitch boy.”
The silver medallion now dangled around your neck, softly emitting an otherworldly glow as it basked in the rays of the hot, summer sun. It was quite funny to him that a being that pretty much towered over the ocean was now trapped within the small confines of a coin, forever trapped as a unique accessory that you would flaunt to friends and acquaintances alike. Of course, you didn’t tell them the full story behind your new necklace. Even if you tried, you didn’t know if you could find the right words and sentences that could perfectly piece everything in the same, vivid way a fever dream might induce prophetic visions of evangelic disaster. Jongseong, too, stayed silent about the entire thing—mostly because the CIA threatened to deport him back to Korea if he spoke out.
None of that mattered now, though. Who was he to be concerned with anything beyond the realms of being a young adult? He got a part-time job for the summer, he gets to practice his surfing skills, and he has all the time in the world to impress the beautiful ladies of the beaches with the progress of his new workout routine. Life was great, and being called bitch boy (he’d rather be called bitch boy for the rest of his life than relive the wrath of a giant, octopus monster out of his friend’s dirty comics from Japan) cannot stop him from his so-called journey into being the best bachelor that Los Angeles had to offer.
➥ Boys' Love, Angst with fluff frosting, Childhood Friends to Lovers
➥ The author chooses not to issue tags for everything that takes place in this work to preserve tension and some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to read at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.
⚠ — Juvenile delinquency, references to domestic violence (non-graphic), violence, explicit sexual content
➥ Neither of them cares about much in this life, but even then there are things they will never ever give up.
Such as the only places that feel like home to them.
The sky is burning.
That was what Hyunjin called the azure sea above his head when it took on a fiery hue. Sunsets were his most cherished time of the day; he found comfort in the blood sun for some reason. It felt harmless in the evening hours, possibly because it didn’t hurt his eyes to directly look at it. It felt like a declawed tiger.
Today, the sky was burning, but that comfort was missing. He thought spring was just around the corner, but today it was snowing. His teeth were chattering as he was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, shriveling into a ball like a hedgehog.
“Don’t let go of my hand,” Chris interlocked his fingers with Hyunjin’s and squeezed his hand tight. “You have me.”
Today it was snowing.
But it wasn’t snow falling from the burning sky.
“Mom, I want to learn sign language.”
Molly’s eyebrows formed the highest possible arch when her ten-year-old blurted that out at the kitchen table out of nowhere.
“Where did that come from all of a sudden, baby?” she continued to peel potatoes.
“The boy nextdoor,” Chris rested his chin on his hands. “He never talks. I saw him do stuff with his hands at the grocery store, so I’m gonna learn how to say I want to be friends with him.”
Her heart swelled to the point of combustion. She hadn’t been able to give much to her baby, but the conscience he had was her most proud achievement whether she had anything to do with it or not.
“We will go to the community center tomorrow morning, okay?” she ruffled his rebellious curls.
The boy nextdoor was very reserved, not leaving the house much, but once Chris started signing him the things that he learned, the boy started to come out of his shell a little. A little more. A little bit more every day. At one point, he even started waiting outside when it was time for Chris to come back home from school. Even though most of their communication took place on an Etch A Sketch, it didn’t prevent the two boys from merging into conjoined twins.
Molly wasn’t home much with all those double shifts she was working, naturally failing to notice this boy sooner. Turns out there were a lot of things she hadn’t been noticing, and everything forced itself into her field of vision when she suddenly got laid off one day.
“Here, baby,” she put headphones on her boy to allay his fear and hugged him tightly. “I’m right here, okay?”
It was a miracle how that tyrant nextdoor still had his vocal cords intact with all that drunken yelling, and yelling wasn’t the only thing he was doing. She was trying so hard to calculate the chances of Chris becoming an orphan if she were to intervene herself because a call to the police was not going to yield any result. Just the usual slap on the wrist and they were going to fuck right off. Who would give a damn about what was happening in the wasteland that was the South Side anyway?
She was about to go crazy with how helpless she felt.
If it was her son in there, there was no way anyone could stand in her way. She felt ashamed. She felt ashamed of her fear. Her shame slowly morphed into a tumor in her heart and eventually popped, splattering the puss of rage everywhere.
“ENOUGH!!!”
She leaped off the bed and raided her closet to find the gun she’d been hiding with the hopes of never having to use it. She barged into the house nextdoor through the back door, immediately cocking the hammer when her eyes found the man.
“Get the fuck away from the kid, or I’ll blow your brains out,” she threatened, eyes maniacally wide, then kneeled and extended her hand towards the boy.
“Bitch, what are yo—?”
She shot at the bottles lying on the coffee table, thankfully managing to scare the man. This was good. If she played the crazy bitch card, she could maintain the upper hand.
“I said away!” she spat through her teeth and turned to the boy again. “Come, sweetheart. Chris is waiting for you.”
As soon as he heard the name, the boy ran into her arms, and Molly’s maternal instincts went into overdrive. In a momentary lapse of sanity, she dashed to the front door, turned the keys dangling in the lock, then rushed to the back entrance with the boy holding onto her for dear life and locked the door from the outside.
“Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, baby, Auntie Molly’s here now,” she kept kissing the boy’s head, leaving the angered screams and the bangs on the door behind her. The second she crossed the threshold of her own home, she put the kid down, and her knees gave way with an overwhelming sense of relief. Once she managed to muster enough strength, she brought a small kit from the bathroom and sat down to clean the boy’s wounds with Chris watching everything in silence.
“T–Thank… you.”
The mother and son froze solid in shock, looking at each other to see if the other heard the words, too.
“Sweetheart, you can talk?”
“He… h–hurts me when I say words,” the boy spoke in an almost nonexistent voice, refusing to make eye contact at all costs. “I don’t say words anymore.”
Molly could hear her heart breaking, fighting so hard to swallow the knot growing in her throat. She smiled at him brightly to shoo the tears away from her eyes.
“What’s your name, dear?”
“H–Hyunjin.”
“What a beautiful name,” she caressed his cheek. “Come, it’s time for bed now.”
She tucked both boys in, giving a kiss on each of their foreheads, and wished them sweet dreams. When she turned off the light and closed the door, Chris turned to his side and hugged Hyunjin tightly.
“You have me,” he whispered like he was sharing a secret. “I’ll protect you. Just follow me, okay?”
Hyunjin nodded. He didn’t have many good memories, but he was surely going to remember that night he got a peaceful sleep, probably the very first one ever since he was alive.
Nevertheless, that peace of mind was extremely short-lived with a knock on the door the very next morning right after Chris left for school.
“We received a report,” a police officer addressed Molly. “Are you detaining someone else’s child here, ma’am?”
She was utterly aghast, mouth agape as she stared at the man. They wouldn’t give a rat’s ass even when literal murderers were running loose on these streets, and suddenly they were the epitome of sense of duty?
For a false claim?!
“No one is being detained, officer. I only opened up my home to a child in need,” she heaved a deep sigh, slightly annoyed. “Actually, now that you’re here—”
“Did you harm this boy?” the officer’s eyes widened when he saw the bruises on the kid hiding behind her.
“WHAT?! NO!”
“You’re coming to the station with us.”
“What are you talking about?! It wasn’t me! He’s the one you should—”
“Less talking, more walking.”
“Have a good one, Dave,” the man nextdoor waved at the officer, immensely satisfied watching the neighbor bitch get into the police car. His sinister smile vanished when his eyes landed on the boy still standing at that doorstep as if he had turned into stone.
“Hyunjin,” he called out, teeth clenched and nostrils flaring. “Inside. Now.”
This was Chris’ third time repeating the senior year of high school.
The first time he flunked, his teachers were almost expecting it due to his mother’s sudden passing, but everything that followed, they didn’t have an explanation for. Once a decent kid with more than decent grades, he had turned into this aloof vandal with zero intention of carving a future for himself, the front row center audience of disciplinary hearings with his absenteeism through the roof. Every time the guidance counselor wanted to talk to him, he promised not to cut class anymore, just to cut class right after leaving that office. He had no idea why she kept insisting on seeing him this much anyway. This was a trash school in a trash district where trash people lived, and if it weren’t for his irrational desire to graduate alongside Hyunjin, he would have dropped out long ago. He knew nobody actually gave a fuck if he ‘made something of himself’, so why the unnecessary theatrics of ‘I’m worried about you’?
Eh, maybe she had some quota to fill, who knows?
There was something Chris liked about this school, though. The unused music room-turned-storage in the basement. He brought Carl the janitor his weed at a ridiculously discounted price in exchange for the keys to the secret corner that only belonged to him and Hyunjin. Their little Haven where they got to escape from reality even if it was for a couple of borrowed hours.
“What happened to your lip?” Chris greeted Hyunjin that afternoon with furrowed brows, the worry crawling under his skin turning into rage in record time.
“I fell down.”
“I think the fuck not you did not,” he jumped to head towards the door, fuming out of his nose.
“Chris, stop.”
“I’m either stabbing him to death or calling the police. Take your pick.”
“You know it’s useless.”
“I don’t give a fuck, I’ll do it every day!” he gently cupped Hyunjin’s cheeks, eyes softening with each moment he spent gazing at his beautiful face. “Every second he’s away from you is a win for me.”
“Don’t,” Hyunjin stared at his shoes. “It gets worse when he comes back home from the station.”
Chris instinctively pulled him into his embrace as if nothing would happen to Hyunjin if he just kept him there. And Hyunjin really believed it. He wished he could just live in Chris’ arms, the only source of respite from his perpetual suffering.
“Let’s just forget about it. I came here to be with you,” Hyunjin gave one of the joints he hid inside his jacket.
“To be with me,” Chris smirked.
“I–I mean to… to hang out and… whatever.”
Chris didn’t say anything and lit up the cigarette smiling like an idiot, lying down on the old desks he put side by side. Every time Hyunjin let slip things like that, he found himself on the very brink of passing away from endearment, and one of these days, he really wasn’t going to be able to practice restraint anymore. Trying to conceal his devastating longing for him was the hardest thing he had to do, and he had to pull a trigger once. But it was fine. As long as Hyunjin stayed by his side, it didn’t matter if he starved his heart.
It… had to be fine.
“Hey, are you gonna ask anyone to the dance?” Chris asked nonchalantly while making a perfectly shaped smoke ring, to which Hyunjin cackled like a witch.
“That was fucking hysterical. Thanks.”
“What’s so funny?” Chris frowned. “The entire senior floor is drooling over you so much, the corridors always look freshly polished. They’re gonna fire Carl because of you.”
“Fuck the dance, man. Let’s just go get trashed by the river instead.”
“You’re passing up on swiping your V-card?” Chris cocked a brow with a shit-eating grin.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb. Everybody knows what happens in the parking lot on the night of the dance.”
Yeah, no shit! Yes, he knew, thank you very much. That was exactly why Hyunjin didn’t want to be in the parking lot. He wanted to be alone with Chris at their spot by the river. It was an insane idea when he couldn’t even muster the courage to kiss him, and yet he wanted to ask him to…
“Are you gonna ask anyone?” he hesitantly questioned.
“Nah, I’m busy that day.”
“With what?”
“I got invited to get trashed by the river.”
They lazily smiled at each other. If only things were different. Chris would definitely ask Hyunjin to go to the dance with him. They would obviously be the hottest couple of the night, making so many bitches die of jealousy, but he wouldn’t take him to the parking lot afterwards. He would take him to their spot by the river, kiss him for hours, then beg Hyunjin to end his misery, to release him from this prison of yearning. He would whisper how he was all Chris could see when he closed his eyes. He would whisper how he wanted to be the first and only person to kiss him, to touch him, to make him cum, and then ask him to hold his hand for an eternity.
If only…
“I uh… I got you something,” Hyunjin rose to his feet to walk towards the dusty lockers at the back of the room. “Close your eyes.”
“You fucking care about me!” Chris dramatically gasped. “My birthday was months ago. Where did this come from?”
“Well, I didn’t have the money yet on your birthday.”
“What money? Bagel sandwiches cost like five bucks.”
“Well, that stupid thing you like so much costs a bit more, so…” Hyunjin returned to the desk, his throat experiencing acute drought for some reason. “Alright, you can look.”
Chris opened his eyes, and his heart did a kamikaze dive to the ground, vanishing the smile on his lips in an instant.
Every time they passed by the record store, he always insisted on going in although he was never going to make a purchase. The store owner was at least nice; he allowed them to hang out and even let Chris play one of the guitars on display. It was the cheapest one of the lot, but Chris still lost his mind over it.
And now ‘his girl Roxy’ was standing right before his eyes.
“Hyun…”
“If the dramatic pause is to ask if I stole it, no I didn’t,” Hyunjin responded to his questioning gaze. “I’ve been working at the gas station after school.”
“You what?” Chris’ eyes started welling up uncontrollably. “For–For this?”
“Don’t fucking flatter yourself,” Hyunjin scoffed, but his fingers were scratching his nape out of nervous habit. “I get to not go home and stuff, too, you know.”
Chris wanted to cry a little bit. He wanted to ask why the absolute fuck Hyunjin was the purest thing in this cesspit of a world that didn’t deserve him. He wanted to hold him a little bit. Drown him in kisses, inhale his scent from the intersection where his ear met his neck. Tell him to never ever let his hand go and please please love him back.
“I will guard this with my life,” was all he could say.
The light in Chris’ eyes was so bright that Hyunjin couldn’t help contracting it. He loved making Chris smile. He was so easy to make happy, so easy to fall madly in love with, and so easy to love. It made Hyunjin’s heart stop every time he saw those dimples. It violently killed Hyunjin when he heard Chris’ giggles. It wasn’t the worst idea to spend the rest of his life hearing that sound in his ears every day.
And when the most beautiful man in the entire universe smiled at him like that, Chris finally lost his last drop of patience, and his lips clutched Hyunjin’s for dear life.
Time stopped.
Hyunjin was convinced he had categorically gone crazy. He had been imagining this moment so concerningly frequently that he was having a full-on psychosis. He could actually feel Chris’ lips on him as well as the rhythm of his heartbeat pounding loud within his own body. He was overwhelmed to the point of paralysis, unable to move an inch.
When his kiss wasn’t reciprocated, Chris pulled back to see a frozen Hyunjin, his eyes wide open in shock, and an immediate wave of panic washed over him.
“I–I’m sorry. I thought… That was stupid. I’m so stupid. I’m sorry. I’m… Fuck!”
Chris bolted out of that place towards the restroom, dying of embarrassment and incredulous of what he had just done. He couldn’t fucking help himself, and now it was going to get awkward as hell. Was Hyunjin going to avoid him now? Was he disgusted by him? Was he weirded out? How could he make things right again? Should he say he was too faded and didn’t remember? Should he not talk about it at all and act like it never happened? Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!!!
Meanwhile, Hyunjin just stood in the middle of that room with his fingers pressed on his lips for god knows how long, his first kiss still ablaze on his skin like an open wound.
Seventeen years. Eleven months. Twenty-nine days.
Hyunjin had been counting, and after what felt like several eternities, D-Day had finally arrived.
“I’ve kept this from you all along,” Chris spoke with profound seriousness as they got out of his mom’s faithful Camry, “but I’m actually a genie.”
A lot of people had their spots by the river, but they were out in the open somewhere on the lush lawn, strategically occupied by couples to remind the passersby of how lonely they were. Being highly allergic to crowds, Hyunjin and Chris picked their spot at a godforsaken location, still by the riverbank but somewhere they could at least pull up with a car. It was a literal underpass slightly reminiscent of an abandoned junkyard, but at least it was secluded, quiet, and had a killer view at nighttime. It was Haven the sequel.
And on the night of the school dance, Haven the sequel was hosting Hyunjin’s birthday.
“Have you finally lost your mind?” Hyunjin contorted his face.
“What do you mean finally?” Chris widened his eyes with not-so-make-believe lunacy and walked to the back of the car. “Remember when you said the only way for you to find peace was if you could wipe out the entire neighborhood?”
Inside the trunk lay the two sledgehammers that Chris borrowed from the body shop down the street. He took them both out, then led the way towards the left where the moonlight ricocheted off some shiny surfaces in the distance. Once Hyunjin’s eyes got used to the darkness, he could finally make out what he was looking at. There was a bunch of stuff lying around that wasn’t there before—old monitors, an empty cooler, a TV, various furniture about to fall apart if someone so much as sneezed…
“Close enough, yeah?” Chris handed one of the sledgehammers to Hyunjin. “Happy birthday.”
When Hyunjin felt that sturdy grip under his touch, he felt weirdly… in control. Something he never once was able to feel in the seventeen years, eleven months, and twenty-nine days he was alive. Every single piece of junk standing before him was slowly shapeshifting into his demons, reminding him of everything that was stolen from him, and derisively laughing at his face. He could hear his blood rushing in his veins. His chest was heaving as if he had been running for hours. His breathing was quickening beyond his control. Then some more. Then some more, and…
With an ear-piercing scream, he bolted towards that cooler at full speed and slammed the sledgehammer like he wanted to gut it alive.
Both boys consumed with the raging urge to destruct, they broke, they shattered, they smashed, screaming their lungs out, maniacally laughing for no reason, just letting it all out. Letting out all the poison gangrening their existence. All the suffering sinking its teeth on their shoulders. All the tears they couldn’t cry. All the broken dreams they dared to dream once. At this very moment, they were elsewhere, far, far, far away, living other lives as other people.
And they were deliriously happy.
“That felt so good!”
When they returned to the car and got inside, Hyunjin was still smiling, completely unable to control the curls on his lips. Witnessing such a miraculous sight multiplied Chris’ happiness infinityfold. After taking a long sip from his flask, he handed it to Hyunjin to quench his thirst and started watching the nightscape stretching before them. Bright lights, tall buildings, home to some lucky bastards’ lives.
He didn’t have much maybe, but as he gazed at Hyunjin’s lost-in-thought silhouette, Chris could see what his luck was spent on, and he couldn’t be any more content.
“What?” Hyunjin looked back when he noticed Chris’ eyes on him.
“You look like you want to say something.”
It all had boiled down to this.
After the incident at Haven, neither of them talked about it even though that was the only thing both were dying to talk about. As Chris was experiencing back-to-back existential crises, Hyunjin was floating in a cloud of bliss with the gigantic green light he received from Chris. He wanted to do it again but properly this time. And he wanted to do much more than kissing, but he had to time it just right. It had to be at a time and place where no soul-crushing ‘We can’t’ could be uttered. When they were alone. When they were close.
Where nobody could interrupt them.
“You… had sex before, right?” Hyunjin stared at his fingers.
Tremendously blindsided, Chris burst into laughter so hard that it came out as a wheeze. It may have sounded like joy but the singular emotion riddling his existence was suffocating nervousness.
“Why are you asking?” he spoke with perfectly intact composure.
“Nothing, I just…”
Chris examined every single twitch on Hyunjin’s face. He didn’t want to spectacularly misread him again, but he just had this undeniable feeling. Something exuding from Hyunjin was condensing in the air, and every time it rained on Chris’ heart, it beat a little harder in his throat.
“Did you… change your mind about the dance?” Chris lowered his head, trying to hold Hyunjin’s gaze.
“No, it’s not… it’s not about the dance.”
“Then what is it about?”
Hyunjin was uncontrollably blushing, trying to pick the right way to word this. Even though he wanted Chris in extremely disrespectful ways, the last thing he wanted to come across was crass.
Because as much as bodily fluids, he wanted to exchange hearts with the exclusive owner of his soul.
“I’ve been… waiting,” he started with a small voice, “for–for us to…”
Oh god, is this…?
Because Chris had been waiting, too. He had been patiently waiting ever since he noticed that thing he felt whenever he caught a glimpse of Hyunjin was nowhere near brotherly. He was thoroughly consumed by his love for the kiwi boy who sported a buzzcut his entire life, and he would burn this world down for him if he asked. He wanted him to ask. Right fucking now.
But he would rather die than force Hyunjin to do something he wasn’t ready for.
He smiled instead and reached for the backseat to pick up a small box that looked like a cube. Hyunjin instantly knew what was in there because of the signature packaging. Something they got to have only twice in a year. Chris picked up the singular candle resting inside, stuck it into the creamy frosting, and lit it up.
“Make a wish,” he held the red velvet cupcake before him, excessive adoration beaming out of his eyes.
Hyunjin closed his eyes, made his wish, and blew the candle. Then he broke the pastry in two and fed Chris one half.
“What did you wish for?” Chris asked licking the frosting off his lips.
“I want to be happy,” Hyunjin responded without a beat.
Those eyes… Those angelic eyes writhing under broken wings… It shattered Chris’ soul. He only wanted to see lights in there, but they were so dim. He wanted to rip his own heart out and give it to Hyunjin. He wanted to give whatever granular happiness he was able to taste to him. He wanted to shelter him. He wanted to love him.
He wanted to give him everything.
“I can… make you very happy,” he spoke somewhat abashed, eyes lowered to his own hands, “if you let me.”
He flinched in his place when Hyunjin unexpectedly reached for his face. Those long, slender fingers brushed against his lips, immediately coercing a sharp exhale out of Chris just with that simple touch. All Hyunjin could think about was how Chris had the most kissable lips in the world. So full, so inviting parted like that, begging him to come taste him. Fallen slave to his maddening desire for this man, he slowly closed the distance between them and spoke against those lips he had been violently daydreaming about.
“Do it again but don’t pull away from me this time,” Hyunjin whispered.
Bolts of lightning started to strike that car back to back.
One hesitant peck became two, then three, four, each staying a while longer than the last. One pair of lips hugged the other, extremely persuasive to go skinny dipping in the ocean of passion.
They got their toes wet in the shallow end first.
Just a kiss, but it was a promise. It was an abyss, making a man in love want to fall into it forever. A kiss, but it was a wordless confession. It was a heartless conviction, making a man in love want to become a prisoner for three life sentences straight.
That kiss was two souls merging into one in fate.
“You make sense to me,” Chris whispered breathlessly. “You are the only thing that makes sense in my insanity.”
Hyunjin felt so lost but he was right where he was always supposed to be. Nowhere felt as safe as Chris’ lips kissing his pain away, his arms the safest haven, his touch the only ointment to soothe the burn marks all over his charred soul.
He wanted to say it all out loud, but every pause felt like an utter waste of time he could be spending loving him instead.
Chris snuck into the back seat, pulling Hyunjin with him. They were cursing at themselves for deciding to put on so many layers that night, but when they finally reached the last one and stood bare before each other, Chris was moved to tears by Hyunjin’s beauty despite the bruises covering him all over.
“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he caressed Hyunjin’s face. “I can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”
Hyunjin held the hand breathing life into him and kissed each of those fingers like they were his savior and he was expressing his heartfelt gratitude. He kissed that wrist like the elixir of life was flowing in those veins. He pressed that palm on his chest like it could jumpstart his heart back to life again, then slid it down towards his crotch.
“Touch me.”
Chris thickly swallowed. He had imagined this moment embarrassingly often, but now that it was about to happen for real, he was having a little trouble breathing. He lay Hyunjin down and unbuttoned his pants, heartbeat going crazy in his ears as he stripped him bare. At long last, when he finally laid his eyes on what he only saw in his dreams…
“Oh, fuck me!”
“I’m trying to,” Hyunjin responded with a straight face.
As they chuckled at each other, Hyunjin reached for Chris’ waistband and tugged on it, silently making a wish to be on equal grounds. He couldn’t help the throb between his legs when he witnessed the man of his dreams in all his glory, fully hard and begging for his touch. Chris lay next to him, basking in the unreal beauty, and sneaked a hand between Hyunjin’s legs, kissing him lazily as he gently stroked his girth.
Someone else’s touch. Chris’ touch. Something he always longed for but was too scared to verbalize even to himself. He was having the hardest time comprehending Chris was right next to him, naked, body ablaze, quietly moaning into his mouth while pleasuring him.
Starting from his shoulder, Hyunjin traced the outline of Chris’ body with his fingers and stopped when he reached his waist, taking a turn towards his crotch. The heat he felt under his touch suddenly condensed, and Chris moaned louder when he felt Hyunjin’s fingers wrapped around him, rubbing his cock against his own.
“Do you feel it?” Chris pressed his chest against Hyunjin’s a little more. “How you make my heart race?”
Hyunjin fervently nodded. He couldn’t tell whose heart it was anymore, but it was pounding loud like it was about to burst, sending waves after waves of headrush straight to his brain, making all his thoughts go fuzzy.
“You have me. You’ve always had me,” Chris kissed Hyunjin’s palm, then pressed it on the left side of his chest. “Right here.”
Hyunjin was so overwhelmed that he was on the brink of crying.
When Chris’ rhythm quickened, Hyunjin matched his pace, and all hell started breaking loose around them. He was running to the finish line at full speed but got sidetracked when a drop of Chris’ precum landed on his hand. He stared straight into his eyes, making a complete show of obscenely licking it clean, diminishing Chris into a panting, moaning mess just with that little display of what he was capable of doing with his tongue.
“Let it out,” Chris urged him through his own moans. “Give me all of you.”
“Faster.”
“Cum with me.”
“I love you.”
“I love you. FUCK!”
The tremors traveling from one body to the other transformed into wet debris when they reached their destination. Gasps for air were silenced with lips crashing into each other, holding on tight until they safely landed. Neither of them cared about the mess; if anything they wanted more of it as ink to sign one another under their names. They held each other tightly, overdosing on the happiness and satisfaction they didn’t even know existed, sure to turn into instant addicts momentarily.
“Don’t you just love the sound of silence?” Chris dreamily smiled as he gazed into the neon silhouette framed by the window, fingers running on Hyunjin’s porcelain skin. The only response he received was a content chuckle and a kiss on his chest.
They listened to the city singing in the distance. They listened to each other’s heartbeats. Then listened to the silence cradling both of them.
It was all they needed besides each other.
“Come with me,” Chris repeated his earlier request, tangling his fingers within Hyunjin’s.
“Where?”
“Away,” he lifted his chin to look into his eyes. “Let’s escape. From this shithole. From all our misery. It’ll be an adventure!”
“Where are we even gonna go?”
“Somewhere nobody knows. It’ll be just you and me,” Chris shoved a thousand pleas into his voice. “I promise I’ll take all your pain away. Just promise me you’ll love me a little more every day.”
Hyunjin pulled himself up and sealed his promise with a kiss. Chris didn’t need to ‘take his pain away’; every time they were breathing the same air, Hyunjin was unable to feel it anyway.
“I promise I’ll love you a lot more,” he ran his fingers through the unruly curls he loved so much, “but in exchange, you will promise to give me all of you.”
“Please let me come in with you.”
“It’s fine. Just wait for me here,” Hyunjin reassured him. “He hides the money in the living room. I’ll be in and out in two seconds.”
As soon as that back door closed, Chris started chainsmoking out of sheer nerves, lighting one cigarette before he even fully finished the other. No need to think about the worst, it was going to be fine. Hyunjin said he would be in and out. He would be out any second now, and they would leave to never come back.
But then he heard the sound of glass shattering inside as well as a loud groan, something possessed him entirely.
“You fucking DID NOT!!!”
He barged into the house ready to kill, frantically looking for Hyunjin, but instead of a commotion, there was a bone-chilling silence haunting the place. His heart was about to jump out of his chest when he made it to the living room, terrified of what might be waiting for him inside.
“H–Hyun?”
Hyunjin was looking at the lifeless body lying on the floor with glazed eyes. The coldest stare Chris had ever seen. No emotion on the face whatsoever, clearly struck with shock, beautiful hands covered in blood with one of them tightly gripping a large kitchen knife.
“Are you hurt?” he immediately kneeled before Hyunjin, quickly checking for an injury. “Look at me. He had it coming, you hear me? For years.”
Hyunjin turned his blank stare to Chris, unable to snap out of it even though that was all he wanted to do, uncontrollably shaking.
“You have me,” Chris hugged him tight. “It’s over now. You have me. I love you.”
It was as if Hyunjin had teleported to Chris’ childhood bedroom. He remembered the night he was there for the very first time. How he slept the most peaceful sleep of his life in that bed, the heart beating next to him the safest blanket.
I’ll protect you. Just follow me, okay?
Something in the back of his head suddenly snapped, vacuuming him back into reality through the vortex of memories, and the second his feet touched the ground again, a gut-wrenching wail ripped from his throat. No regret. No grief.
Just pure, unmitigated relief of being unchained from his darkness.
He heard all his shackles loudly break, and years of pain drained from his body with every tear he shed. In the arms of the only man that could comfort him.
And it would take a while for Chris to burn down the world for him, but he could still burn down something.
He turned the keys dangling in the lock of the front door first, then went to the basement to pick up a gallon of gas, pouring it all over the place as he walked back to the living room. Then he grabbed the lighter on the coffee table, held Hyunjin’s hand, and headed to the back entrance.
He took out his own pack from his pocket and grabbed one smoke for himself and one for Hyunjin. He clicked the Zippo to light both cigarettes, then threw it inside the house and locked the back door. They smoked in silence as if they had all the time to kill, listening to the savior phoenix growing even more majestic inside with loud crackles. As the rampant blazes consumed Hyunjin’s den of nightmares, the strangest feeling of serenity enveloped both of them.
The sky was burning, but it wasn’t the blood sun. It was the flames rising above Crown Street, 21.
It was snowing, but it wasn’t snow falling from the burning sky. It was the ashes of a childhood burnt, a soul scorched, and shackles on fire scattered all over the South Side.
“Sometimes I get scared that you’re not real and I’m making you up in my head,” Hyunjin spoke with pensive eyes.
“Just because you’re making it up why would it mean it’s not real?” Chris smiled at the love of his life.
They leisurely walked to the car they made love to each other for the first time and settled in their seats with endless peace painting a genuine smile on their faces. Chris interlocked his fingers with Hyunjin’s and squeezed his hand tight.
“Don’t let go of my hand,” he pulled him closer for a kiss and looked into those beautiful eyes that harbored a newborn flicker of light in them. “You have me.”
He slammed on the gas pedal, and the two lovers drove away into the night. As they disappeared to a place nobody even knew, Chris thought to himself there wasn’t much he wanted from this life, nor did he need much to be happy. He could make do as long as he had three things only.
DAY 23: PASSION
➥ Hyunjin is properly losing it over you.
➥ 1.7k (~7 min. read)
⚠ — Explicit sexual content (see masterlist for more before reading)
Hyunjin had heard the word muse before, but he thought it was something only the greats had. As in people who were born gifted. Who would look at the most ordinary things and manage to scrape an entire creative work from it? That was why they were so great after all, weren’t they?
The moment he realized he had his personal muse was when he caught himself doodling your name on his papers during a lecture.
The greats were that great for a reason. There had to be someone like you in their life to inspire the heck out of them. Someone they thought about day and night, even in their dreams, even when they were right next to them maybe.
There was something about the way you smiled that awakened something violent in Hyunjin. When you smiled at him, he felt so overwhelmed that he felt the urge to land a punch on the nearest hard surface for some reason. Your eyes… Your deep, deep eyes that were constantly whispering him secrets… Your lips he could spend hours kissing… Or just listen to words spill from them. There was always a tinge of that powdery essence in your wind when you walked by. It was fucking powder, for fuck’s sake, why did that suddenly become the world’s most seductive scent for him? Why was your skin that warm to the touch every time he was close to you? Why was your voice the most titillating thing that had ever landed on his ears? Why? Why? Why?
Hyunjin… Call me darling again.
Drowned in his thoughts, he suddenly found himself raising his hand to attract his professor’s attention.
“May I be excused, please? I feel very queasy.”
The second Hyunjin left the lecture hall, he made a run for the restrooms at the end of the corridor. He might have sold it to his professor because he was excessively sweating and heavily breathing, but the matter of the fact was…
He stormed in and punched each door open to confirm they were all indeed empty. Then he threw himself into one, dropped his slacks, and started stroking himself just like the way you taught him.
“Oh, Jesus fucking—!”
He slapped his hand over his mouth to muffle his cries of pleasure, but he wasn’t able to control how vigorously he was stimulating himself. He was supposed to do this when the urges crept in, wasn’t he? He needed to know how to take care of himself, didn’t he? You told him not to fall victim to temptation, so if you didn’t want him to march back home and bend you over wherever the heck you were, he had to relieve himself right here right now. Now. Now.
You can ask your lady to do this for you, too. It’s not solely to be enjoyed when you’re alone.
“Do it for me. I want you to do it for me,” he whispered to himself with his eyes closed and started to stroke himself even more fervently, “Fucking crush me. Own me. Kill me. God!”
The more you prolong it, the better it will feel.
He slowed his ministrations down a notch and started to submerge himself in the most obscene thoughts he was having about you.
He was dying to know what his cock would feel like inside you. He just knew it was going to be the most sublime feeling in the whole entire universe. All warm and slippery around him just like you felt around his fingers. He would get your pretty cunt soaking wet in his mouth just the way you liked it, but you would still struggle to take him in even after he ate your pussy three times in a row. You would tell him to please please go slow for how big he was, moaning and whimpering his name over and over again, but that would only get him even harder for you. Of course he would go slow if you asked nicely. Of course he would fuck you with very shallow thrusts. At least until you got used to how full he was making you feel inside.
But what if… What if you weren’t like that at all?
What if you told him to run you over and have his way with you, treat you as nothing more than an object of white-hot pleasure? What if you dared him to fill you up through all your holes? What if you asked to eat his cum, and what if you fucking liked it?
He had to experience you fully just once before he departed this world.
“Once. Just once. Please. Let me. I love you. I love you. I fucking love you.”
He pressed one hand on the wall against him as he came very hard. Surprisingly enough, this was Hyunjin’s most intense orgasm yet; he came even harder than when he was with you. Once he gathered his wits back again, he started questioning what the heck was different this time around. It couldn’t be because he was pleasuring himself since you were quite literally the reason he threw himself in that tiny space in the first place. Was it any better than when you made him cum? Not necessarily. This just felt… different. A good kind of different, but different nevertheless. Then he tried to picture the night he experienced his very first climax with you.
It was… very loving. Tender. Still lustful. He was aroused out of his mind in your lap as you walked him through it. If he had to pick a color for this, it would be a darker shade of hot pink. What he just experienced, on the other hand…
It was reminiscent of the night you threw him on the bed and almost ripped your dress open on top of him. The color was nowhere near anything rosy, though. It was a deep, deep, blackish shade of red. You were angry at him. You were enraged. Furious. But it was still the most passionate thing he had ever seen. Not in an amorous way maybe, but still in a vehement way. In a fiery way.
Passion was dripping off of you.
Caught up in his thoughts and trying to make sense of all these new things he was experiencing, Hyunjin walked out of that stall to splash some cold water on his face before he got another painful erection on the spot, and made his way home.
“Oh? You are quite early today, my lord,” you welcomed him in the kitchen, “Are you feeling well? You are sweating a lot.”
“Yes, I’m–I’m fine. Just dehydrated, I think. It is very hot outside,” he darted towards the copper pitcher that contained cold water.
“Are you quite sure?” you tilted your head with slight concern, “I had arranged a visit for today, but we can postpone it if you like.”
“What visit?”
“To the Lees. Her Ladyship has recently given birth to a baby boy.”
“Oh,” Hyunjin sat down at the table and filled himself another tall glass of water, “What’s the purpose of this visit exactly?”
“To give you a little taste of fatherhood, my lord,” you smiled at him brightly. Hyunjin, on the other hand, almost blacked out for an unknown reason.
It was happening again. Those thoughts were taking over him again.
“I want to ask you something,” he softly uttered.
“Yes?”
He took a moment seemingly to gather his thoughts and spoke with his eyes keenly on the cold liquid at the bottom of his glass.
“Sometimes I get this sudden rush of… feelings for you,” he briefly paused to choose his words correctly, “but they seem to be a bit different.”
“How so?” you raised your brows and encouraged him to continue.
“They are… still very affectionate but… but too affectionate. Maybe violently so,” he refused to look at you at all costs, “It’s like I… I liked it when you were… when you were…”
“Please be comfortable,” you held his hand on the table with a smile, “You are not going to offend me.”
Hyunjin glanced at your hand on his spreading your warmth all over him as if he wasn’t burning enough and finally managed to look at you.
“When you were quite rough with me. On our very first night.”
It caught you by surprise. You weren’t offended; it even stroked your ego a little bit, but it was… entertaining, so to speak, to witness how he was discovering things about himself.
“I feel very ashamed for feeling this way. It’s like there is something wrong with me,” he downed the remaining water in his glass as if trying to muster courage from it, “How do I make this stop?”
You couldn’t help your endearment over the layer of innocence coating his words. You finished the lukewarm water sitting on the table for some time, as well, and pushed your glass towards him to ask for a refill.
“It is not necessarily a bad thing to desire your lady in unconventional ways or for her to want you so,” you calmly explained, “Within the confines of your marital bed, you are free to explore pleasure together as long as there is consent.”
Hyunjin felt himself excessively tingle. He remembered the absolutely unhinged surge of thoughts infesting his imagination when he touched himself to you as though he was possessed by something.
“What do you mean by… unconventional ways?” he pushed your glass back to you.
You examined his face for a moment. He legitimately looked like he was on the very edge of his chair, dying to know the answer you were going to bestow upon him.
“Passion is a beautiful palette, my lord, never a single color. But that’s the talk of another day,” you smiled and stood up to your feet instead, “For now, I shall send word to the Lees that we will be visiting tomorrow instead.”
Another day, Hyunjin thought to himself as you left your powdery breeze behind you, Of course, another day. If I can survive myself.
SYNOPSIS: The mystery behind whoever orchestrated the incident has yet to unravel, and the very same incident is the start of the palpable rift in your relationship with the four leaders. Things get gradually worse, and problems after problems keep piling up, especially having discovered a shocking revelation that causes you to develop mistrust towards them, but at the same time, you are caught in a dilemma where your mind and heart are in dissonance. In spite of it all, your heart still desires for them — the ones whom you have given your heart and soul to.
PAIRING: non!idols enha hyung line x fem!reader
GENRE: 18+ (mdni), semi-college au, adulthood, reverse harem, dark themes.
WARNINGS: mentions of christianity, profanities, explicit themes, dramas, angst, sexual assault, coercion, violence, blood, mention of death, manipulation, corruption, toxicity, lots of crying, dubcon theme, unprotected sex (no!), name calling, degradation, manhandling, mild bondage, blowjob, fingering, pussy slapping, edging, crying, squirting, creampies, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, threesome (kinda)
DISCLAIMER: this fic is inspired by devil's night series written by penelope douglas! also, i am not a Christian, and i didn't bother to do thorough research on the religion, so pardon any false facts or errors.
PLAYLIST: Disturbia - Rihanna, Animals - Maroon 5, RUNRUNRUN - Dutch Melrose, Gods & Monsters - Lana Del Rey, Poker Face - Lady Gaga, The Heart Wants What It Wants - Selena Gomez, Church - Chase Atlantic, Right Here - Chase Atlantic, Circles - Post Malone, Kiss It Better - Rihanna.
RUBY'S NOTE: the smut here is not much and not as intense as the next part so hold your horny horses until then <3
PART 1, PART 2, PART 3.1, PART 3.2, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6.2, PART 7
✘ SERIES MASTERLIST ✘
An excruciating pain plummeting into your head precipitously pulls you out of the dreamless slumber, drawing out a wince from your lips, while the gradual return of your consciousness enables you to feel an indescribable affliction that aches tremendously in every part of your body.
You force your heavy eyelids to pry open, and once you do, your vision slowly adjusts to the red neon luminosity that provides such dim settings of your surroundings before you finally gain clear-sightedness, in which the view beholds stagger you. Though you remain immobilised with your cheek pressed onto the floor, you are acutely aware that there are dozens of mirrors ahead of you.
Soon, the confusion fuzzing your head is eclipsed by fear, impelling you to hasten away, but even the simple task of lifting a limb exhausts you as your body feels like it weighs a ton. You can feel your immobilised body shivering from the sheer coldness despite being adorned in a wool cardigan, denoting the protracted duration of your unconscious arrival at this unknown place.
As you remain motionless on the numbing hard ground, questions begin to surface in your muddling mind ─ who was responsible for knocking you out cold ruthlessly and why have they brought you to this place? Most importantly, what did you do wrong to deserve this?
For a moment, you nearly fall tempted to concede defeat and succumb to the inviting darkness that threatens to consume you once more, but when you immediately spot your phone just a reach from your outstretched arm, determination sparks in your eyes before you decide to rally every strength and courage from your inner core. The next thing you know, you force your upper body to rise from the ground despite the incessant aches.
You quickly retrieve your phone while silently thanking whoever is your kidnapper for being foolish enough to leave your phone with you, be it intentionally or not. Your eyes are fixed intently on the phone screen while your trembling fingers are trying their utmost to remain cooperative with the firm resolution to call the first person that comes to mind.
“Come on.” You mutter to yourself as you press on Yunjin’s contact, desperation lacing in your tone before the sheer disbelief comes forth as you are unable to reach out to her because of the deficient network, possibly due to the location you are at.
You try again as you raise your phone a little higher in hopes of gaining a better signal, and this time, you attempt to reach out to Wonyoung, Karina, and even the four men who no doubt will come to your rescue. A glimmer of hope tingles in your chest at the moment you are able to reach Jake as the signal stabilises, just nearly, but disruption returns before he could even answer your call.
You refrain from erupting into waterworks as you tuck your phone inside your pocket. Refusing to remain a damsel in distress any longer, the firm resolution morphs into one that has you miraculously regaining vitality as you find yourself rising from the ground, now standing on your feet. You curl your slightly trembling fingers into a fist, grasping the courage that fuels your determination to save yourself from whatever possible imminent loom before it gets you.
Swallowing enough spit to moisturise your parched throat, you begin the first step to your escapade venture with the intention to find any doors that lead to the exit, but as your eyes wander to the mirrors that no doubt provide illusions and tricks, your determination falters as you find yourself questioning your perception and sense of reality altogether, especially as you reach out to touch the cold surface of the mirror before you can even carelessly bump into it.
You retract your hand, your eyes darting to your surroundings, which only daunt you further due to the unknown labyrinth filled with infinite reflections and endless hallways. Your chin wobbles and your breaths go slightly uneven as you grapple with maintaining equanimity while the panic expands in your chest painfully. How are you even going to find your way out of here?
Still, you advance forward with your arms latching around your figure to provide a semblance of security in an attempt to alleviate your inner turmoil, while the hauntingly cold atmosphere only feels progressively oppressive, as though there is more than just one predator awaiting the right moment to pounce on you.
A wince leaves your lips just as you bump into a mirror, your fingers ascending to rub your throbbing forehead that only seems to worsen your persisting headache while your palm presses on the mirror to support your body just when you nearly stagger back. Forcing yourself to focus and return to the right track, you release a sigh before lifting your head, but just as you do, you are being greeted with a manly silhouette from a few distances ahead of you.
Whoever they are seems to be taking a step forward, and this time, the red neon illuminating the figure allows you to gain a clearer view of him ─ clad in an all-black ensemble with the hood covering his head, but what sends you a huge wave of relief is the familiar yet distinct red mask he adorned.
It is peculiar because, despite the compelling urge to run into his arms, something is strongly holding you back as you remain rooted to the ground. Just before you can call out his name, the small smile on your lips falters as soon as your eyes catch sight of a gleaming hunting knife in his hand.
“Jaeyun?” Amidst the palpable fear that churns in your tummy, confusion laces in the echoes of your voice throughout these hallways as you call out to the man who you thought wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. “Jaeyun, stop it. This isn’t funny.” You muster the courage to sound as stern as you can, but cowardice soon influences you at the moment he begins to advance in the direction of your transfixed figure.
A part of you wants to believe that Jake is simply trying to give you a good scare, just as he did on that one night where he embodied ghostface, but you should know better than to defy your better instinct, and so you heed it, turning around with the intention to flee from the man who you thought wouldn’t hurt you.
Little did you know that you had been too inattentive to your surroundings to notice an ominous presence looming over you from behind, resulting in you bumping into a solid figure that nearly sends you plummeting to the ground, but you quickly regain balance before you look up with your breath hitching in your throat when you recognise the silver mask he adorned.
“Sunghoon.” You utter his name in a splintered whisper as you slowly back away from him, discerning the malevolent mockery just by the mask’s visage alone. A whimper clogs in the back of your throat as you spot a vaguely familiar axe in his grasp, which he used on Devil’s Night and was dripping with blood.
“S-Sunghoon─” Just when you decide to implore him, stark terror strikes you as he raises his axe with the intention to attack you, drawing out a genuine scream of horror from you before you swiftly dodge his wilful aim as he brings down his axe with such skillful precision that you know your body would be butchered into half if you had remained standing in front of him.
Refusing to dawdle any longer, you pivot on your heels in the other direction and dash forward in trepidation, fleeing from your two predators. It is as though you have mastered adroitness in countering the illusionary as you manage to avoid bumping into transparent glasses and mirrors, but you are too concentrated on getting out of here, hopefully unscathed, to marvel at your agility.
Tears begin to accumulate in your eyes while anxiety tightens your chest upon hearing their footsteps echoing from behind you, spurring you to pick up the pace despite your temporary vitality on the verge of teetering as the effect of the unknown substance they injected into you gradually returns.
In the face of peril, the tempestuous hurricane of emotions threatens to sweep you away, each vying for dominance, but you know that you can’t be distracted. Just as you drift to a corner, a terrifying shriek tears from your throat upon the appearance of another predator, adorning himself in a familiar black mask.
You scream as soon as he swings the sledgehammer, aiming for your head before you deftly dodge his attack, only for him to hit the mirror at the side as it shatters. Amidst the fear pumping in your heart, heartbreak is palpable as you watch him in horror. He is relentless, aiming for your head with his weapon while you continue to elude him.
“Jay! Please! It’s me!” You decide to implore in the hopes of knocking senses into him while your voice blends in with the sound of shattering mirrors due to his aims. “Jay.” Your voice trembles while your throat hurts from inhibiting a bundle of emotions that threatens to implode.
Finally accepting defeat in your failed attempt to reason with him, you run in the other direction while silently thanking God for the multitude of hallways that allow you to choose either one to continue your escapade. This time, however, your depleting vitality impedes your coordination to elude your predators, as evident in your laboured breathing.
Exhaustion begins its descent on you, followed by the weeping as you finally allow the brimming tears to cascade down with strangled sobs leaving your lips. Could this be what the anonymous guy meant after those cryptic messages he sent you regarding your safety and whatnot? Could he have also known that the reason behind Jinae’s death was because of the four men who have each captured your heart?
You grit your teeth while unrelenting tears continue their descent on your cheeks as you inwardly berate yourself for stubbornly refusing to listen and heed your best friends’ words of advice and warning after all this time. Yet, your mind is battling an internal conflict with the rational part of you, which adamantly urges you to expunge any affectionate feelings you harbour for them, but you can feel it in your pumping heart; your love for them outweighs your rationality.
Unbeknownst to you, another impending danger is set off to inflict harm upon you as he sees the apparent exhaustion in your tapering pace and how you are preoccupied with wiping your tears languidly. Lacking focus, you accidentally bump into a transparent glass, resulting in you losing balance and almost plummeting to the ground if it weren’t for strong arms holding you steady from behind.
Instead of gratitude, you become highly alarmed by the touch of your predator while your widening eyes are staring at the mirror just a few distance away from you, which reflects your figures, allowing you to soak up the haunting image of the familiar white with a vertical red stripe on half of the mask. Instantly, you force your way out of his chilling grasps before turning around to face him.
“Missed me, sweetheart?” The familiar voicemod device he uses to manipulate the pitch of his voice brings you back to Devil’s Night, taking you by surprise, which is your first mistake, because just as you blink your eyes, you feel the force of his gloved hand ramming your head into the mirror.
As soon as you hit the mirror, you feel a splitting pain that has struck you deeply in the side of your head, while the brutal impact caused the mirror to crack in a rippling effect. You don’t even have the opportunity to recover when he clutches a handful of your hair into a makeshift ponytail to seize control over you, ramming your head into the mirror once more and this time shattering the broken pieces of the mirror that have been stained by your blood while a cry tears from your throat due to the agonising pain that eventually melds with the effect of unknown substances flowing through your veins.
The rough release from him causes your weakened body to collapse to the ground as your buckling knees have given up on you. You can feel warm liquid trickling down your temple before your eyes flicker at your reflection in the mirror, only to spot blood oozing from the wounds on your head as it trickles down your temple.
“Give it up, sweetheart.” Heeseung─ no, White says with a sickening delight in his tone as he revels in the way you are pathetically trying to crawl away from him with sobs leaving your lips. Before you can crawl any further, he stops you with his booted foot on top of your leg by applying pressure, prompting you to look up at him with sheer fright.
“H-Heeseung.” You whimper out his name while he becomes enamoured by the sight of your pretty eyes glistening with tears as well as the crimson smearing your skin. “Please don’t do this.” You implore him in between fearful yet heartbreaking sobs amidst grappling with the torrent of emotions within you, especially when he is now holding a fairly long melee knife, the blade promising pain.
“On the contrary, I do need to do this.” He crouches down to your level, toying with his knife idly before bringing it to caress your cheek with the sharp tip, causing your heart to rattle against your chest. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”
Despite the fear, a palpable heartbreak carves the hurt that was punctured in your chest while you stare at him with glistening eyes of betrayal. “I should’ve known that you were going to make me end up like the girl you toyed with the same way you did to me. Jinae.” You choke back a sob, wanting him to hear the remaining last words from you if this is indeed your last moment.
“So you finally learned about Jinae.” The tip of his knife is treading dangerously on your neck. Although he uses the same voice-mod device, you can discern the cruelty in his cold chuckles, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. After I fuck you, I’m going to kill you and carve out your heart to keep it in a pretty box. I’ll store it along with my other prized possessions.”
“You’re downright mental!” You manage to find your voice as it comes out strong, but soon the dam breaks as you weep again. “How could you do this?! I thought I meant something to you! I thought you loved me─” In a blink of an eye, your head is turned sideways due to the impact of his slap on your now-stinging cheek, while the ruthless action only seems to amplify the splitting pain in your head.
“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll cut off your tongue.” He nearly growls out before seizing your chin, forcing you to look at him again while feeble sobs leave your lips. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t foolishly invited and spread your legs like a filthy whore so easily, but I guess you’re just the same as your mother. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all.”
The mention of your mother manages to send you a jarring sensation amidst the splitting pain that threatens to consume you whole as you stare at him confoundingly. “My mother? What do you mean?” You dare to inquire adamantly, despite knowing that he can end your life with a single swift drag of his knife across your neck.
“How pitiful.” He lets out a faux sigh. “You have no idea the dirty secrets they’ve been keeping from you, but just know that your mother is not the devout Catholic you thought she was.” His answer is vague, and just before you can ask him for more elaboration, he makes the disapproving sound of a tut. “A mouthy thing, aren’t you? Even in the face of death.”
“The only mouthy thing here is actually you.” You have no idea what possesses you, but it may stem from the fact that he insulted your mother, and thus, you take him by complete surprise when you use your foot to hit him in the sack hard, resulting in him falling to the side as he groans out in pain.
You try your utmost to gather whatever strength is left in you as you rise from the ground before wasting no time in fleeing from him. “Y/N!” You hear him roaring in sheer anger from behind you.
This time, your better instinct strongly beckons you to go in the specific direction in which you feel a sense of anticipation that you’re most likely able to find the exit, but he is not far from you, as evident in the sound of his footsteps. A terrifying shriek is elicited from you just as his melee knife hurls straight ahead of you, nearly hitting your head if you hadn’t been on time to dodge it.
“You can run for as long as you want, but you’re not going to live to see the next day!” He roars out to you again, but you choose to ignore him as you navigate your way to find the exit, remaining persistent. Finally, after every twist and turn, you spot it while hope and relief mingle in your chest.
Before you can have your mini celebration in your head, a pounding pain plummets into your head, nearly impeding you, but you quickly refocus and proceed on while strands of your hair are stuck to your sweaty skin.
The passage of time appears to be slowing down, with the red neon luminosity encompassing you gradually fading into a blur, while the bright sign of 'exit' ahead remains a beacon to your fortitude, but your quest to the road of freedom grows languid as the eventual exertion dawns on your body.
Tears welling in your lower eyelids are a recrudescence of terror, parallel to your inner turmoil that remains unabating, and you feel as though it is eating you alive from the inside, dwindling the hope you so desperately clutch onto.
Your ears perk up at the sound of familiar, heavy-booted steps from not far behind you, eliciting a forlorn cry from you before you force your weary body to pick up the speed in spite of the unknown yet lethal substance streaming through your every fibre and returning to take its major effect on your whole being.
No, this is not how you imagined facing your demise. You never would have thought that one of your worst nightmares had manifested itself and plunged into your reality.
Your skull is throbbing painfully, with blood seeping from the fresh wounds that trickle down the side of your face, while your heart aches tremendously. A sob emerges from the back of your throat before waterworks cascade down on you, but you refuse to allow yourself to die tonight, not when you’re nearly getting the taste of freedom.
Before you know it, you use the force of your body to push the door open as it swings outward violently, and you continue to run on the asphalt ground, having no clue of your current location, while your heaving chest is starting to hurt with how ragged your breathing is that mingles with the sobs.
“Please.” You choke out, your tearful eyes blurring your vision, while you feel as though more needles are piercing into your skull. “Please let all of this be a nightmare.” You manage to whisper in between broken sobs, nearly succumbing to the hyperventilation that renders you unfocused on your surroundings as your body remains in a fight-or-flight mode.
The next thing you know, you bump into a solid chest that nearly has you staggering back if it weren’t for strong arms latching onto your trembling form. The moment your eyes meet his concerned eyes that soon blaze with anger, a frightful shriek tears from your parched throat before you push him away from you, as though he is a disease.
“Princess?” Sunghoon, whose head is fogging with confusion, frowns visibly as he sees the way you are looking at him as though he is a terrifying stranger.
The movements from Jake and Jay catch your heightened sense, prompting you to cower away from them as you back away. “Stay away from me!” You shout at them, the fear is palpable in the tremor of your voice, to which they halt their movements.
“Baby, it’s us!” Jay exclaims while trying his utmost not to give away the tempest of wrath that storms within him upon seeing the state you are in.
“Lovely…” Jake takes cautious steps towards you, but even his loving, gentle tone is not enough to dispel the betrayal and heartbreak you are still reeling from.
“I said don’t come close to me! Please!” To see you hyperventilating as you sob hard hits them in the face, but what pains them is the terror you exhibit right now because they never wanted you to fear them as though they would really hurt you.
You turn around with the intention to run from them, but this time, Heeseung’s figure is a hindrance as he blocks your way. His hands find their way to hold you firmly while you attempt to thrash and struggle in his captivity.
“Let go of me!” You become relentless, your fear is now eclipsed by anger that stems from the fresh betrayal.
Despite the confusion upon seeing the blazing anger in your crystalline eyes, Heeseung remains calmly collected as he holds you effortlessly yet is unable for you to escape from. “Sweetheart─”
Being utterly overwhelmed and blinded by the maelstrom of pain, betrayal, sadness, and anger, you raise your hand and bring it down to land a harsh slap to his now-stinging cheek, shocking the other three from behind.
“Do you think this is meant to be humorous to you?!” The rage in your voice is unmistakable as it sounds foreign to your ears, but your focus remains on his face as he slowly turns to look at you while you are oblivious to the raging storms in his dark eyes. “Is this really your endgame?! Once you’re satisfied after fucking me, you'll kill me?!”
Heeseung’s deadly silence only seems to fuel your wrath, and so you begin to throw punches into his chest that don't even have any effect on him. “Fight back!” You scream in between sobs, tears relentlessly streaming down your cheeks. “If you want to kill me, do it now!”
“Y/N, stop.” Jake and Jay appear from behind, intervening as they grab you away from Heeseung’s defeated grasps while you continue to struggle and fight against their strong hold valiantly despite feeling debilitated.
“What are you talking about?” Heeseung’s calm voice manages to reach your ears despite the sound of your hysteria.
“Yeah, what do you mean by killing you, lovely?” Jake asks with a frown as soon as you shoot him a glare. “We would never do such a thing─”
Miraculously, you manage to escape from their grasps, and your glaring eyes penetrate into each of them. “Don’t lie to me! I know you’re the ones who kidnapped me and brought me to this God-forsaken place, and for what? To kill me!”
“We didn’t!” Jay objects vehemently, disbelief lacing his tone. “Why would we ever want to kill you?”
“Liar!” You retort before breaking down again, the sound of your cries only fuels their anger to hunt down whoever dared to hurt you. “If you weren’t the ones back there, then how did you even know where I was?”
“I installed a tracker on your phone. It’s the reason why we managed to track your location.” Jake steps forward, his softening eyes seem to balm your hysteric nerves. “But you have to believe us, love. We would never do anything to jeopardise your life.”
You open your mouth to speak, but a whimper comes instead as you feel the familiar pain plummeting into your skull, prompting you to clutch your still-bleeding head, and Sunghoon, being the nearest to you, holds you steady against him just as your body sways lightly.
“You’re still bleeding, princess.” Sunghoon murmurs, his gentle tone and his touch send you into a whirlwind of confusion. Disappointment seeps through him as you push him away while your mind is waging a battle of internal conflict, recalling the girls’ words about them, but at the same time, your love for them remains palpable, which only makes your head spin.
“Don’t touch me.” You protest weakly as you attempt to yank your arm from Heeseung’s firm grasp, but the substances injected into you that flow in your system wholly revoke the remnants of your vitality, rendering you debilitated as you find yourself leaning into him.
Without a word, Heeseung effortlessly carries you in a bridal style, with your whole body going limp as your consciousness slips away faster than you like before the darkness welcomes you once more.
“Gather all the knights from your respective houses. We’ll be having a meeting tomorrow morning.” Heeseung orders calmly, causing the three to exchange glances. “All of them, and not a single person is to be left out.”
“You got it.” Jake gives him a firm nod.
Heeseung catches Sunghoon and Jay’s eyes, and they immediately understand his deadly intent. “Find those fuckers inside and do what you need to do. Bring their heads to me.”
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It turned out that no heads were brought to Heeseung last night, much to their discontentment. Both Sunghoon and Jay have conducted the hunt throughout the entirety of the place, not missing out on every nook and cranny, which took them approximately an hour just to find no one other than shattered mirrors alongside your blood. But the four of them have shared a mutual understanding and collectively concluded that the likelihood of who was responsible for what happened to you must have been orchestrated by their very knights, especially when they are more than aware that they have enemies even within their fraternity. It’s just a matter of time before those said enemies finally decide to drop their amiable pretences.
Hence, with the exception of those who are currently travelling abroad for the holidays, every junior and senior knight from their respective houses has been summoned to the meeting, which is highlighted as crucial. Those who dare to defy will, of course, face the consequences.
The cold atmosphere in the general meeting room is patently imbued with a palpable tension that derives from the four leaders as they stand before these suspected knights. The intimidation emanating from the four silent leaders seems to dominate the entirety of the fraternity in the room as the sound of their incessant chatter and exchanged conversations decreases.
“This meeting won’t end unless you come forth and confess that you did what you did.” Sunghoon raises his voice with a distinct authority that has almost the majority of knights feeling dreadful, especially as they recognise the signature callous smirk drawn on his lips. “We can wait all day.”
“Or better yet,” Jay toys around with the metal baseball bat in his grasp, evoking fear from some. The smirk on his lips mirrors Sunghoon's, while his eyes gleam with a familiar delight at his penchant for brutality. “We can do this the hard way by beating the confession out of you. Every single one of you.”
“This isn't fair! Us juniors did nothing!” One of the juniors, who goes by the name Taesan, bravely speaks for his fellow peers, earning him murmurs and whines of agreement. “At least I know I did nothing.” Taesan adds, his tone lacing with sincerity.
“Yeah. We weren’t the ones responsible.” Another junior, Jaehyun, says this as he stands next to Taesan. “As a matter of fact, the juniors were out partying at Sunoo’s crib last night.”
“Sunoo?” Jake looks over to the familiar blonde-haired male, who has been occasionally checking himself out on the camera phone. “Is it true that you hosted a party at your crib last night?”
“Oh, yes.” Sunoo, alongside Jungwon and Riki, doesn’t appear to be the slightest affected by the leaders’ intimidation, as he beams with a lopsided grin on his face, scrolling through the gallery on his phone before showing them a video. “Look! Seunghan went completely wasted and sprawled by the dance floor after puking up─”
“Dude!” Seunghan’s loud groan can be heard amidst the snickering amongst the juniors, while Sunoo shoots him an innocent smile.
“They’re all right.” Jungwon steps forward, drawing the four leaders’ attention to the intense conviction written across his features. “You told Sunoo, Riki, and I before that you have complete faith in us and trust us, so trust me when I say that the juniors were not the ones responsible for whoever captured and attacked Y/N.”
“Even if any of our juniors dared to, you know that I wouldn’t allow for this to pass.” Riki adds on, the austerity he exudes is clear in the way he casts a momentary yet warning glare at his fellow peers. “We knew better than to mess with someone else’s prey.”
“Right, prey.” This time, someone else from the senior batch decides to speak up, drawing their attention to Choi Soobin, who adorns a smirk that is clearly a mockery as he stares sharply at the leaders. “It does beg the question: why do you care so much about your prey?”
“Yeah, who cares if she has gotten injured because of what happened last night?” Hyunjin scoffs, agreeing with Soobin. “Preys are meant to be hunted down by hunters, which is us.”
“I personally think that you should be grateful that someone else is doing the job for you by hunting and hurting your precious prey.” Taehyun remarks with a cynical smile that only adds more suspicion to the leaders. “Plus, she was probably hallucinating or even fabricating shit when she might be the mastermind behind the attack on herself.”
“Hallucinating?” Jake is seething with anger, taking the others by surprise with his unexpected shortness of temper. “You dared to spew shit about my girl, Kang? For fucks’ sake, she was bleeding out of her head! Who in their right mind would inflict harm on themselves?!”
“Easy.” Heeseung, with ease, holds back Jake as he places his hand on the latter’s chest before directing his sharp attention on Taehyun. “Congrats, Kang Taehyun. You’ve just become our number one suspect.”
“Y/N could’ve died if she hadn’t gotten immediate medical attention.” Sunghoon says, clenching his jaw as he tames the tempest of wrath within him upon the obvious agreement to Taehyun’s statements.
“Even if she had died, why does it matter?” Hyunjin asks, and a smug smile dawns on his lips as he leans back on his seat leisurely. “I mean, look at what happened to Jinae. She was your prey, just like Y/N, and yet her death didn’t seem to affect you in the slightest.”
“Who is Jinae?” A collective murmur of confusion emanates from the juniors, including Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki, whereas the seniors look equally dreadful, and some are sighing at Hyunjin’s idiocy.
Sunghoon and Jake exchange wary looks while Jay is more than ready to launch his attack on Hyunjin, but as they finally look at Heeseung, they find it surprising to see his calmly collected demeanour.
Hyunjin continues to run his mouth idly, not affected by the foreboding tension in the air. “Either way, you guys are going to end up killing your prey─” Seated beside him, Jeongin punches his shoulder in an attempt to silence him.
“Meeting dismissed.” Heeseung announces in a low rumble that this is enough to send almost all of them scurrying from the meeting room. His eyes meet Beomgyu’s for a fleeting moment, and yet, despite Beomgyu’s small smile, which he knows is supposed to send some form of supporting assurance, it only seems to stir his inner turmoil.
“We have two suspects. Taehyun and Hyunjin.” Jake informs his best friends once all the knights have made their departure except their three apprentices.
“Add Choi Soobin as well.” Sunghoon rolls his eyes in annoyance, followed by a disdainful scowl etched on his face. “Did you see the way that fucker smirked? I bet he’s involved too.”
“What are you guys still doing here?” Jay asks sternly, his attention directed to their three apprentices while they exchange glances with apparent curiosity in their eyes.
“Yeahh, you see, we’ve been wondering who the hell Jinae is. So we’re not leaving until you tell us.” Jungwon voices out, his face is devoid of any mischief as he crosses his arms over his chest. “And what did whatever Hyunjin meant earlier mean?”
“And how come we’ve never heard of this Jinae girl?” Sunoo frowns, his lips jutting into a pout. “I thought we were all the best of friends to share secrets!”
Riki, ever the most observant, whose sharp eyes are scrutinising the four leaders who have been silent, notices the sombre casting shadows over them alongside the irresolution written across their features. “This Jinae, the girl you’ve preyed on before, is dead. Isn’t she?”
For a moment, the air in the room shifts uncomfortably with palpable intensity. Heeseung catches Jay’s eyes and gives him a head nod before the latter steps forward with a sigh. “Since you guys are so annoyingly adamant, I’ll tell you the truth, but not a single word goes out to the others.” They don't miss the edge of warning in his tone.
“I don’t understand. If it’s the truth, then why does it matter if it goes out to the others?” Sunoo inquires rather bluntly while his eyebrow is arched inquisitively.
A muscle pulses in Jay’s jaw as he briefly looks away. “Because the truth is more complicated than you think. Come. Let’s head to my office.” Like a bunch of ducklings, Jungwon, Riki, and Sunoo begin to trail behind Jay without any objections.
“We should check in on Y/N.” Sunghoon tells Jake and Heeseung as soon as the others leave the room, earning him nods of agreement before they proceed to venture their way to your room with silence wrapped around them.
After you passed out in Heeseung’s arms, they wasted no time in bringing you to the hospital where Heeseung’s older brothers were working. Coincidentally, Daehyun and Jaesung were working night shifts when you were referred to the emergency department instead. To say the twins were shocked upon seeing the dire state you were in was an understatement, but nonetheless, they offered to be the ones to oversee you as their patient. You had only been admitted to the emergency ward after your wounds were treated and the drugs in your system were excreted, until Heeseung adamantly requested that you recover in the palace instead.
Of course, the older twins could never refuse Heeseung, and so here you are, currently asleep and tucked comfortably under the covers on your bed as Sunghoon, Jake, and Heeseung watch as Jaesung has just completed another medical check on you, especially since your body is still recovering from the drugs injected in your system. Their hearts ache upon seeing the white bandage wrapped around your head. They recall when Daehyun informed them last night that if they hadn’t brought you to the hospital sooner, you would’ve been in a coma or worse.
“She needs plenty of rest and sleep over the next few days since the drugs that were previously in her system strongly affected her body.” Jaesung informs them with a mask of professionalism that immediately recedes when his eyes narrow at his brother. “You owe me, brother. Now, care to explain what the hell happened?” Before any of them can speak, Jaesung heaves a deep sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “For the love of God, please don’t tell me that you’re doing what I think you’re doing.”
“And what do you think we’re doing?” Sunghoon asks rather rudely, to which Jaesung dismisses since he has long since gotten used to the bunch being so ill-mannered, even towards their elders.
“You know exactly what I meant. Toying around with Y/N just as you did three years ago.” Jaesung’s lips press thinly while a sombre shadow casts over his features. “I understand that the preying has always been part of the devil’s knights’ tradition, but to the point where their lives are endangered─ don’t you think it’s too far? I don’t know what Y/N did, but she most certainly doesn't deserve to get hurt or worse.”
Heeseung scoffs coldly, his eyes are ablaze with seething anger. “You thought so lowly of us just because of what happened three years ago when we would never dare to harm Y/N.”
“Heeseung’s right. If we were the ones who harmed her last night, Heeseung and Jake wouldn’t have brought her to the hospital quickly.” Sunghoon intervenes before Heeseung can get further pissed off at Jaesung. “Besides, Y/N is different.”
“Y/N is not like Jinae.” Jake adds, his clasped hands raising to support the back of his head as he leans.
A humourless smirk plays on Sunghoon’s lips. “Yeahhh, our girl is not crazy pants.”
“Guys, the least you could do is to talk about the dead girl respectfully.” Jaesung shakes his head, expressing his disapproval, before he glances down at his wristwatch. “Since my job here is done, I’ll be taking my leave, and don’t forget to feed her the medication I’ve given you.” Jaesung pats Heeseung’s shoulder firmly before exiting your room.
“Wonyoung texted me earlier. She and the other girls will be coming over to visit Y/N.” Sunghoon breaks the silence, watching as Jake heads over to the bed and crouches down next to you, holding your cold hand in his to give a gentle kiss on your knuckles. Sunghoon tears his gaze away from you to look at Heeseung. “I tried refusing, but you know, Wonyoung being Wonyoung.”
“Let them. If it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t have known that Y/N were taken by some fuckers.” Heeseung clenches his jaw while his callous eyes harden. The thirst for vengeance is palpable in his veins. He looks over to Jake, who remains by your side and whose longing eyes are tethered to your angelic face. “Jake, what’s the progress of cracking the code? It’s highly possible that whoever the anonymous texter who pestered Y/N before is responsible for this.”
“It’s getting nowhere.” Jake releases a soft sigh, and his shoulder slouches in defeat. “Trust me, I tried, and I even got extra helping hands from Sunoo and Riki, but it’s as if their firewall is made out of an impenetrable shield for us to hack through.”
Sunghoon’s phone chimes loudly in his hand, prompting him to look down at his phone screen. “Be right back. Wonyoung and the girls have just arrived.” He informs them before departing your room.
Jake places one last kiss on the back of your hand before standing, and he even reluctantly releases your hand gently from his grasp. He walks over to Heeseung, who appears to be in deep thought.
“Heeseung, what do we do when she wakes up? You’ve already seen how terrified she looked at us last night.” Jake sighs out in frustration as he brushes his long strands to the back. “I’m suspecting that whoever attacked her impersonated us in some way.”
“Our masks.” Heeseung blurts out as a bulb lights up in his head. He meets Jake’s storming gaze that parallels his wrath. “It makes sense. If not, why else would she be so afraid of us?”
Before Jake can voice out his thoughts, a knock on the door interrupts them, prompting them to look over to see Wonyoung, Karina, and Yunjin. The two spot Sunghoon behind them, who beckons them to give the girls some privacy with you, and they do, but not before one of the girls speaks to them.
“Has she not awakened since morning?” Karina asks sadly, the only one who doesn’t entirely have her guard up around them, unlike Wonyoung and Yunjin. Though they did inform the guys about the commotion Yunjin heard over the line last night that resulted in your sudden disappearance, that doesn’t mean they trust the leaders.
Jake shakes his head in response as the two are standing at the entryway. “She might be awake in the next few hours or so, hopefully.” He tells them curtly.
“Heeseung.” Wonyoung’s cold voice draws their attention while her unwavering eyes penetrate into Heeseung’s, to which his eyes narrow as he senses such hostility from the tall girl. “You guys may be the ones who rescued Y/N, but if I ever find out that you guys were the mastermind behind all of this, you’ll be sorry.”
“Is that a threat I sense?” Heeseung’s voice drips with callous mockery while a smirk plays on his lips and his eyes glint dangerously. “Careful, Wonyoung. You might want to remember who you’re speaking to. I can only tolerate much.”
Jake shields in front of Heeseung in case the latter decides to do something unpredictable. He casts a charming yet wary grin at the girls upon noticing how Wonyoung is fuming. “We can assure you, ladies, that we weren’t the ones responsible. We care for Y/N more than you think.”
“Oh, really? Do you really?” Wonyoung lets out a sardonic chuckle while Yunjin is holding the girl by her arm. “If you had cared for Y/N, you wouldn’t have preyed on her in the first place.”
“Enough.” Sunghoon intervenes with a low warning rumble, his stern eyes meeting Wonyoung’s. “We’re not here to fight you. We’re all here for Y/N, aren’t we?”
In return, Wonyoung scoffs before turning her back on them at the same time the guys do as they proceed to leave your room. The longer they are in the vicinity of the ones you called your best friends, the more they find them insufferable.
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The sound of murmurs and the heavy dip on your bed rouse you from the deep slumber you were in before an incessant pounding pummels into your skull, causing your face to contort into a grimace, as well as a whimper that emits from you alarms them. You can hear them calling for your name, but they sound muffled as your mind decides to focus on collecting the fragments of the events that transpired last night, which eventually coalesce into one account.
You have been hoping that it was all just a nightmare, but the tremendous aches throbbing in your body as well as the splitting pain in your head counter otherwise. The sensation of a warm hand enveloping yours causes you to flutter your eyes open, to which you are greeted by the ray of sunlight filtering through the window that casts shadows across your ceiling.
Everything feels languid, even as you turn your head to look at the person who is holding your hand gently yet with familiar reverence. Upon meeting the tenderness of his warm eyes, a soft smile unfurls on his lips. “Hey, baby.” Jay greets you softly, his tone holds an unmistakable affection that is only reserved for you.
“Jay.” Your throat feels dry as sand as you whisper his name, longing, but at the moment he squeezes your hand in return, it is as though something in you has triggered off, prompting you to immediately yank your hand from his while your abrupt change of demeanour startles them.
A frown touches Jay’s lips before he attempts to reach out for you again. “Baby─”
“Go away!” You yell, tears accumulating rapidly in your eyes as you attempt to scoot further away from them until your back hits the headboard. Your body is trembling, emanating an intense fear, while your mind is in tumultuous chaos, as manifested in your irregular breathing.
“Princess,” Sunghoon, who has been sitting next to you on the bed, holds your arm firmly while his concerned eyes examine the borderline hysteria you exhibit as you are reeling from the transpired event that serves as a playback tormenting you in your mind. A frown pulls at his lips as he sees you struggling in his firm grasp. “Princess, it’s us.”
“Get out!” You scream in between sobs as tears descend on you. You are more than conscious to know that they were not the ones responsible, but you can’t help with your mind as the sight of their hands reminds you of the weapons their impersonators possessed and attempted to murder you.
“Sweetheart, you know that it wasn’t us.” The mellow tone of Heeseung’s voice miraculously manages to break through the whirlwind of hysteria you are in as you flicker your eyes at his towering figure by the bed. Despite his benign demeanour, you tremble under his gaze, recalling his impersonator's brutality towards you that nearly cost your life.
“I-I─” The words you wish to utter are stuck in your throat, and a whimper emits from you instead as you shake your head in protest while your chest feels encircled by pressure, rendering your breaths alarmingly uneven as though something is choking you.
“Princess, hey!” Sunghoon holds you by the shoulders as he forces you to look him in the eyes, but your vision is in an unfocused blur while the sound of your irregular breathing gets frantic, and your pounding heartbeat is going rapid as it drums loudly in your ears. “I need you to calm down and focus on me.” But Sunghoon’s stern instruction only seems to worsen the situation as you weakly attempt to push him away from you, recalling his impersonator with the lethal axe.
Your surroundings feel disoriented, as do the muffled murmurs from them in the background. Finally, Sunghoon’s hands slip from your shoulders, only to be replaced by another pair of warm hands cupping your tear-stained cheeks. Before you can even jerk away from their touch, his gentle tone serves as a temporary balm.
“Breathe, love. Slow and steady.” Jake says so softly yet firmly, enough to draw your focus as you finally meet his warm brown eyes that hold an unmistakable affection amidst the solicitude. Your hysteria ebbs away at the moment his warmth touches you, and you begin to follow his guidance as you attempt to regulate your breathing, earning you an encouraging head nod from him. “That’s it. Good girl.”
“J-Jaeyun,” Your voice sounds hoarse as you utter his name brokenly. Another sob escapes you, rivulets continuing their descent on your vulnerable countenance. “Jae─”
“I got you, love.” Jake pulls you into his warm embrace, hugging you closely while you don’t hesitate to cling your arms around his torso, your face burying into his chest as you continue to weep into him.
Oddly, there are no ill feelings as they watch Jake, who has successfully managed to be the one to calm you down, comforting and holding you close. Only a huge wave of relief washes over them. Jay makes a gesture to Heeseung and Sunghoon, beckoning them to leave Jake alone with you, and they do before Heeseung, being the last person to exit your room, closes the door quietly.
With one arm around your heaving body, the other ascends to run his fingers through your soft locks and occasionally massage your head, careful enough not to come into contact with the bandaged area. He presses a gentle kiss on the side of your uninjured head before dipping his head down to kiss your earlobe and whispering, “I’m here. We’re all here. No one is going to hurt you ever again.”
You only squeeze your arms around him in return, while the sound of your weeping gradually ebbs as you continue to silently bask in the comfort he emanates, providing you with a blanket of security. The weight in your eyelids seems to be pulling down, and before you know it, you flutter your eyes closed as you slowly go lax in his arms.
You have no idea how long it has been since the moment you returned to your slumber, but long enough to be awakened by a strong arm encircling your waist and his hand cradling the back of your head as he tucks your face into his chest, prompting you to briefly glance up just to see Jake being asleep.
Your heart warms at how protective yet intimately he has secured you in his embrace, even as he is sound asleep. But then comes the cold reality as your mind recalls a certain memory you don’t wish to revisit.
“You have no idea the dirty secrets they’ve been keeping from you, but just know that your mother is not the devout Catholic you thought she was.”
Maybe you would turn out to be wrong, but you have a strong sense that whatever Heeseung’s impersonator meant is highly correlated to the four leaders, which also involve your mother.
However, the big question remains: Why would your mother be involved? And why did he speak in a manner that you would’ve assumed he knew your mother personally?
So many questions are throbbing in your head, and yet you know you should unravel whatever secrets have been kept from you sooner, even if it means that you’ll be destroying established trusts.
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When the next day arrives, the compelling urge that derives from your fervid intuition for you to start the investigation beckons, resulting in your intrusion into the familiar yet prohibited part of the palace once again. With steely eyes of determination, you recall the distinct memory of when Anonymous’s instruction the last time enticed you to invade the forbidden, as you now find yourself entering Heeseung’s office.
This time, however, you could care less if either of them discovered of your abrupt rebellion, especially when your wilful mind is set straight with one ultimate goal, and that is to discover what sort of association your mother had with the devil's knights. Sure, you could turn out to be proven wrong, and the likelihood of you getting punished by Heeseung or any of them is high, but you adamantly wish to dispel your vehemence of curiosity.
Still, despite the steel of your resolve, your fingers are trembling slightly as they hover over the keyboard while your stomach churns with turmoil, but you immediately fix your composure, distinctly recalling Anonymous’s instruction the last time he enticed you to do this with the exception that you are now doing this of your own accord.
The familiar sight of the computer screen displaying files arranged meticulously in rows greets you before your keen eyes begin to search for the familiar folder named ‘001’, and once you do, you use the mouse to click on it.
Naturally, you expect a pop-up webpage that requires you to enter the password to appear again, but this time is different because, when you click on it, it reveals a few different files listed, bringing a frown to your lips and your face contorting into confusion.
Ding!
Your phone chimes in your pocket, and you quickly fish it out to check, only to be greeted at an eerie notification from an unknown number to which you have a strong inkling that it is the same anonymous as before.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: You’re welcome :)
Goosebumps arise on your skin, ignoring the fact that he is undoubtedly watching you, and you have no idea how or where. Instead of replying, you shove your phone back into your pocket and redirect your focus to the computer screen.
As your eyes scan these mysterious files, something feels odd as you recognise that some of the files are saved as images. Slowly, as you hover the cursor over the first file, your pulse drums loudly in your ears while your stomach begins to churn violently. Before you allow hesitation to seize you, you begin to click on it.
What greets you isn’t anything you expect. It’s pictures in sequence of your mother and the familiar face of Heeseung’s father in a car. The images seem to look recent, but the file's name states otherwise, as it was saved a few months ago.
Your eyes narrow at your mother and Heeseung’s father’s interaction, noticing how intimately close they are in the first picture, while the second picture looks like he is caressing your mother’s cheek with his eyes full of unmistakable affection. The third picture has you gasping in sheer disbelief, as they are undoubtedly in lip lock.
Haphazardly, you close the file and proceed to open another, and this time, you recognise Jake and Sunghoon’s fathers in this sequence of pictures, seated in a cafe with your mother. In the first few sequences, they seem to be catching up, and you would’ve thought that they were long-lost college friends if it weren’t for the fact that one of them embraced your mother in an intimate hug before the next image shows the other kissing her forehead.
You can feel the sheer betrayal and hurt squeezing around your pounding heart. You know you should not continue, yet you find yourself going through another file, showing images of Jay’s father and your mother standing on the porch of your home in an intimate hug as well as in a lip lock unabashedly.
“No. This can’t be true.” You murmur to yourself, distress is written across your features as you decide to close the file, unable to look at your mother’s unravelling infidelity any longer.
You don’t understand why your mother would do this when her declaration of love for your father has always been consistent, and most importantly, how did she know them?
It is as though something is beckoning you to the answer you seek as your eyes spot a video that looks starkly different than the others, and the date indicated on the file shows that whatever is contained in it is older than you think.
Swallowing down the bile of emotions harshly, you proceed to click on it and brace yourself, or perhaps you didn’t prepare yourself enough for what is presenting to you.
“Oh my god….” You whisper brokenly as tears fill your waterline. More gasps emit from you, prompting you to cover your mouth with your palm. The longer your eyes remain fixated on the obscene orgy that their younger selves were engaged brazenly alongside their lewd noises, the more you feel utterly revolted, wanting to puke up as the churns in your tummy become intemperate.
Upon the atrocious revelation that entailed the dark history your mother had with their fathers, you decide that what you have just unravelled is enough as you quickly close the file and proceed to shut down the computer.
In a state of complete distraught, with tears flowing down your face, you continue to make your departure from the prohibited territory. Fortunately, the four of them are nowhere in the palace, as Jake texted you earlier that they had some business to settle. You wouldn’t know what to do if you had to face any of them sooner, or maybe you don’t wish to see them at all.
As you wallow in the overwhelming tumult of emotions on your bed, all curled up and underneath the covers, you weep. You can’t believe that your own devout Catholic mother would do this, but above all, confusion mingling with resentment and betrayal is directed at Heeseung and the rest for storing such videos, and for what?
You simply don’t understand what benefits them, as they keep this dark revelation to themselves. Had they known all the while that their fathers had always harboured some form of affection and lust for your mother, even back in their college days?
After having had enough of wallowing, you decide to head into the bathroom to wash your face. As you look at yourself in the mirror, momentarily grimacing at the visible exhaustion on your complexion, which denotes how mentally drained you are, a firm resolution hardens your once-bleary eyes.
You don’t have the heart to meet them or even to see a glimpse of their faces. You should’ve known that they were more than capable of anything, especially after killing Jinae. You feel genuinely sick and disturbingly uncomfortable at the thought of being around them any longer.
No longer are you able to withstand this incessant dread that crawls on your skin, and so with a heavy heart, you proceed to pack whatever minimal necessity into your sling purse before heading into the walk-in wardrobe to change your clothes into something a little presentable, but you end up choosing an oversized hoodie.
Biting down your lip harshly, you look down at your phone, where the screen displays your group chat, before typing away with your trembling fingers.
Y/N: I’m going back to my dormitory.
HEESEUNG: Why?
SUNGHOON: Is something wrong, princess?
JAY: Yeah, are you feeling too lonely, baby? We’ll be returning soon.
Y/N: No, I just miss my best friends and I want to reconcile with them so I won’t be returning to the palace. Please understand.
JAKE: Of course, lovely.
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Arriving at the lobby of your dormitory gives you a whiplash as you recall when the lights fully blacked out before you were attacked and rendered ruthlessly unconscious, causing you to wrap your arms around your frail form before you hasten your steps to the elevator while you ignore the odd stares you receive from the other students.
However, with each step nearing the door of your dormitory, the nauseousness you forced yourself to keep at bay surges while your mind is still reeling in revulsion from the prior discovery. You wish to wash your eyes with bleach and erase the stark images of their obscenity.
With a shaky hand, you fumble with tapping your access key card on the smart lock, and once it chimes, you quickly push down the handle and open the door, haphazardly entering the household that is filled with distinct chatter from your roommates.
“Y/N!” Karina is the first one to spot you by the living room, but you overlook the genuine surprise written across their faces upon seeing your unexpected appearance as you dash for your room. You hear them calling for you, but you are too preoccupied with the pain of holding back your nauseousness.
Finally barging into your bathroom, you head for the toilet bowl before crouching down with your back hunched as you lean over to throw up liquid content into the bowl. It appears that the alarming sound of your retching reaches the ears of your best friends, and before you know it, you hear footsteps rushing from the outside to your bathroom.
“Oh my god! Y/N!” You hear Karina gasp loudly amidst the echoes emanating from your retching throughout these bathroom tiles, but you don’t turn around to see them as the pain from your stomach and your throbbing head consumes you, as does the pain that stems from the fresh betrayal.
“Y/N.” Wonyoung’s worried voice manages to break through before you feel her presence next to you as she assists you in holding your hair up to prevent the strands from getting in the way before you continue to puke for another time while Yunjin crouches down on the other side to rub your heaving back soothingly.
After what feels like forever, both Yunjin and Wonyoung assist you in bringing you over to the sink for you to wash your mouth, while Karina heads out to the kitchen to grab a mineral bottle for you. Yunjin and Wonyoung exchange confused yet wary glances at your resonating silence as they hold your frail body, walking out of the bathroom.
“Here.” Karina jogs into your room, one hand holding the bottle as she extends her arm towards you. Without meeting her gaze, you shake your head before taking a seat on your bed, with Yunjin and Wonyoung refusing to leave your side. Karina releases a sigh. “You need to hydrate yourself after throwing up nothing but water.”
“For that matter, why are you here?” Yunjin inquires worriedly, and her tone indicates that she wants to chide you. “You should be resting in the palace, and even if you wanted to come back here, you should’ve at least texted one of us to fetch you. What would’ve happened if you had fainted on your way here?”
“Jen’s right, Y/N.” Wonyoung places her hand on your tensed shoulder, taking notice of your loud silence and your avoidance as your head hangs low. “What happened? Are you feeling sicker than usual? Or are you─” Wonyoung pauses as her eyes widen, mirroring the same expression as Yunjin and Karina. “Are you pregnant?”
You barely flinch at the obvious wince in her tone as you remain reeling in pain from the betrayal. A part of you wants to confide in your best friends, but you also don’t wish for them to know the revolting truth about the history your mother had with the four leaders’ fathers, fearing that they would abandon you again out of sheer disgust.
“No. I’m not pregnant.” Your voice sounds scratchy due to all the puking that leaves a bitter acid on your tongue. “I um─” You pause, swallowing harshly as you look down at your trembling hands on your lap before you clasp them together, but the tremor in your voice remains. “I couldn’t stay there any longer.”
“What? Why?” Wonyoung asks, her tone sounds firm. “Did they hurt you? I swear if they hurt you─”
“They didn’t.” You shake your head, the instinctive urge to always defend them is still strong, which is perplexing because you know that you no longer feel comfortable being around them, and yet the emotional attachment you have towards them remains unchanging. You bite down on your lip hard, completely frustrated with yourself. “They’ve never hurt me, but I don’t think I want to be around them any longer.”
“But aren’t you in love with them?” Karina inquires, treading carefully with her words as she kneels down in front of you to get a better look at your face. She places her hand on top of yours. “Y/N, we don’t understand─”
A sharp sob leaves your lips, unable to articulate your muddling thoughts and feelings that are parallel in a tumult, and alas, the waterworks erupt with uncontrollable sobs emitting from you, prompting Wonyoung and Yunjin to offer you their comfort with their hugs while Karina holds your hand firmly. The three share the same sympathy despite feeling genuine confusion at your abrupt emotional breakdown.
“I know they wouldn’t hurt me, but─” A hiccup escapes you just as you manage to speak in between sobs. Wonyoung pulls you into her side embrace, allowing you to fall weak as you rest your head on her shoulder. “But I’m honestly scared. I really love them, and I don’t know what to do.” You continue, letting your established feelings be known to them, no matter if they vehemently disapprove.
“Y/N, if you really love them, then you should let them know.” Karina tells you, encouraging you with a small smile, but you shake your head in return.
“It’s complicated.” Wanting to tell them the truth is so close, but you force yourself to hold back. Instead, you resort to another path, and only you know that they wouldn’t do something so deplorable to you, or at least you hoped. You lean forward as you clutch your head with your elbows on your thighs, supporting you. “Maybe it isn’t love, or maybe it is, but what you girls said about Jinae the other night got me reevaluating my feelings for them.”
“It’s true that she died because of them, but Y/N, as much as we hate to admit it, we can see that they care greatly for you.” Wonyoung rubs your back comfortingly. “I think they love you the same way you do.”
Silence is all they receive from you for a moment before the sound of your sniffle comes, watching you wipe your tears away from your cheeks. You finally lift your head to look at the three of them, your nose and eyes red from the relentless weeping from earlier until now.
“I still don’t understand why they killed her, and how did she die?” You allow yourself to voice out one of the many questions lingering in your head.
“Initially, we didn’t know what to believe because of different speculations circulated on campus, but at the end of the day, it had been confirmed that Jinae did something to piss off all four leaders greatly.” Karina unravels, and it does seem like an uncomfortable subject for her to talk about, as evident in the grimace on her face.
“She was found dead in their palace.” Yunjin continues for Karina after a brief, sombre silence. Her lips press thinly while her eyes search for yours, seeming to be studying your expression. “But since they’re the sons of affluent figures in the eyes of the government, of course they were not arrested for committing another crime.”
“It’s one of the reasons why I despise them.” Despite Wonyoung’s declaration, her tone remains gentle as she speaks to you, matching the way she offers you a small smile as she tucks a hair behind your ear. “But I’ve long since realised that you couldn’t help with who you’ve fallen for, even if they turned out to be the ones I despise most.”
From your inner core, you are terribly shaken up by this new information. To be honest, you never really wanted to believe that the four leaders were responsible for Jinae’s death, but upon hearing the undeniable truth that she was found dead in their palace, it genuinely fucked you up in the head.
Tears well in your waterline as you look at them with a pained expression. “Do you think they’ll kill me just like they did to Jinae?” You ask in a splintered whisper, and you feel as though a vine has wrapped itself around your heart, squeezing it painfully with the jagged ends prickling you.
“I don’t think they would ever do anything to hurt you, Y/N.” Wonyoung reassures you with her balming tone, but as she looks at Yunjin and Karina, you can see the glimpse of uncertainty in her eyes.
“What if you’re wrong?” A fallen tear trickles down your cheek at the agonising thought of your life being ended in the hands of your loved ones. “I did something, Wony. I broke one of their rules again.”
“What did you do, Y/N?” Yunjin inquires sternly, but you know that she is concerned for you. Yunjin flickers her gaze at Karina and Wonyoung. “Should we do something? I don’t know about you two, but I don’t want to risk anything concerning Y/N’s life.”
“Calm down. We’re only adding more panic and stress to Y/N.” Karina tells Yunjin with a disapproving frown before returning her gaze to your face, her eyes softening. “What do you want to do now?”
The thing is, you have already made up your mind about your next move. They see it in your eyes—the firm resolution that is familiar to them whenever you are determined to get what you want. “I need your help.” You tell them.
“Of course. Whatever you need.” Wonyoung gives your shoulder a firm squeeze.
“Yes. We’re here for you, Y/N.” Karina reaffirms this, earning nods from the other two.
You meet Karina’s eyes. “I need you to drive me home tomorrow afternoon. I want to visit my parents.”
The three of them exchange wary glances, feeling an immense sense of guilt after being the reason why your mother has practically disowned you.
“But why?” Yunjin dares herself to ask, her eyes studying your expression carefully. “I don’t mean to burst your bubble, baby girl, but aren’t you on bad terms with your parents?”
She is more than right, but frankly speaking, you’re still in contact with your father, whereas your mother refuses you. You don’t meet any of their gazes as you discreetly curl your fingers into a fist. “I have something important to confront my mother.” You say curtly, and just the tone of your voice is enough for them to avoid prying.
“Okay. I’ll drive you home instead.” Karina offers as she rises from the ground. She checks the time on her phone. “We’re actually planning to dine outside. Do you want to join us?”
“No, thank you.” You politely decline, giving her a weak smile. “I still don’t feel good.”
“I’ll check if there are any medications for you. Stay put.” Yunjin instructs you, like a mother to her child, before she walks out of your room.
“Rest, Y/N. We’ll buy some food for you.” Wonyoung tells you as she assists you to get comfortable on your bed, tucking you under the covers.
A faint chuckle leaves your lips while you hold back from crying again, feeling touched and nostalgic about this dynamic with your best friends. “I’m not a baby, Wony.”
“Nonsense, you’re our baby girl.” Wonyoung insists before pausing, almost as if she is contemplating whether to take back her words. “In a good, unrestrained way, of course.”
“What Wonyoung meant is that no matter what, you are still the same Y/N we know and love.” Karina adds, and it doesn’t help that you are gradually getting sappy as you smile at them with tears blurring your vision.
Not too long later, the whole of your dormitory is filled with complete silence as your best friends have left to dine outside. At first, you feel the familiar comfort of your old, homey room as you get snuggly under the covers, but soon, a profound sense of loneliness dawns on you.
Your eyes turn crestfallen as four handsome faces appear in your mind. There is no denying that you are already missing them, despite your rationality, which has given you a litany of reasons why you should not have given your heart to them in the first place.
Your phone buzzes next to you, and you reach for it to read the message from a certain individual.
SUNGHOON: Can I video call you? I’m already missing you, princess.
Tears immediately spring in your eyes as you choke back a sob. The strong yearning in your bleeding heart consumes you. But you don’t reply to him, knowing that you’d only cave in to your yearning, and so you choose to sleep without any of their warmth embracing you that you have grown accustomed to.
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Old habits really do die hard. It is something you have always done, ever since you were young. Throughout the two-hour journey from your dormitory to the town you grew up in, your fingers would occasionally ascend to fiddle with the silver cross in an attempt to seek a semblance of alleviation from your churning inner turmoil.
Unlike Wonyoung and Karina, who are currently settled in the backseat and comfortably sound asleep, you chose to forgo the calling of sleep that beckoned you, only focusing and thinking about any worse possible outcome of the impending confrontation, and you have no idea if you are being ignorantly foolish about this, which resulted in you remaining frozen in the passenger seat.
“It looks like your parents are having guests over.” Karina remarks as she leans forward, her folded arms resting on the leathered steering wheel. Her eyes trail over to you while you are staring at the same sight of four different car models parked on the massive asphalt road outside of your two-story house. “Do you recognise those cars?”
“No. Not that I know of.” You frown, your face contorting into confusion, and yet, your inner turmoil seems to worsen at the mere sight. You look at Karina, giving her a wry smile as you busily unbuckle your seatbelt. “Wish me luck.”
“Call us if you need some help.” Karina offers you an encouraging smile that does nothing to ease your incessant perturbation.
The crisp afternoon air greets you as soon as you exit the vehicle before making your way to the sidewalk. Your steps feel heavier on the concrete pavement as you feel daunted. Your palms are starting to feel clammy, to which you wipe them on your skirt as you now walk on the gravel path that leads to the familiar front porch of your humble abode.
A wave of nostalgia washes over you as your eyes flicker to the creamed wooden swinging bench on the front porch, alongside the lovely adornments. You recall the times when your father would find you seated there to wallow in sadness, which prompted him to accompany you and engage in talks with you in an attempt to cheer you up, or whenever you willingly helped out your parents in decorating the front porch to match the seasons.
But the sentimentality that softens your features immediately fades away, only to be replaced by something so sour that embitters you as you vividly remember the picture of your mother and Jay’s father on this very porch.
The vehemence of resentment you now harbour towards your mother sets in motion, storming towards the ajar door and pushing it open as you break through the threshold, not forgetting to remove your shoes and wearing the house shoes you retrieve from the rack.
Your eyebrows arch inquisitively upon seeing four different polished shoes that no doubt belong to businessmen, before your ears perk up at the sound of chatter coming from somewhere in the living room. You amble further, but those manly voices accompanying their laughter evoke a tremendous dread in you. You hope that they’re not the ones you think they are.
Mustering whatever bravery you have left, you increase the pace, and alas, the sight of the four men being amicable with your mother appals you, causing you to flinch visibly as though you have been smacked in the face.
Upon your obvious presence in the room, all eyes are on you, each mirroring the other, filled with genuine shock, but your blazing eyes are fixed intently on your mother’s soon panicked expression as she rises from the single couch.
“I’m home, mother.” You announce your arrival calmly, and the word itself comes out of you as though it is poison, to which your mother flinches. A cold smile plays on your lips, wickedly revelling in the way she becomes flustered amidst the apparent panic. “Where is Dad, by the way? Does he know you have guests over?”
“Y/N Kang, I taught you better than to be discourteous.” Your mother reprimands you, but the tremor in her voice is palpable, eliciting a low scoff from you. Your mother flashes ingenuine smiles to the four men in distinct sumptuous suits as she heads towards you. “Forgive my daughter’s lack of manners. Please continue. I have to speak with my daughter privately.”
You fold your arms over your chest, displaying your defiance, while the coldness in your eyes mirrors your mother’s. “I, for one, feel that we should have our conversation here since, after all, it involved these intruding guests.”
“Enough, Y/N Kang.” Your mother is practically seething with anger beneath her composed demeanour as she holds your arm tightly. “I won’t tolerate this disrespect any longer. Follow me.” It is not as if she gives you a choice, as you find yourself being dragged by her.
Once you are out of their sight as your mother finally brings you to the kitchen instead, you yank your arm from her tight grip roughly, adding to the palpable tension that sizzles in the air before you meet her glaring eyes.
“How dare you even step foot into the house when you are not permitted to come home, let alone disrespect those four gentlemen? Do you even know who they are?” Your mother speaks harshly—nothing to the mother you once knew and viewed her as—because the woman standing before you is someone you no longer recognise.
“Should I know them? I mean, sure, they look classy and rich, but don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate to have male guests around while Dad is away for work?” You are more than conscious that you choose to cope with sarcasm, as your voice drips with mockery, which only fuels your mother’s indignation, as evident in the way she is fuming.
“Don’t you dare teach me what is appropriate and what is not.” She snaps back coldly at you, and you can see it in her eyes that her firm, scowling demeanour is teetering due to the unceasing panic. Disgust forms a sneer on her features. “What do you know about morality when you’re the one who spreads your legs like a shameless whore for their sons?”
You ignore the pang of hurt in your chest, masking it with a humourless grin that smears across your lips. “Like mother like daughter, don’t you agree?” Your coy remark makes her go visibly flinching, and you know you managed to hit a spot.
Your mother quickly recovers with a glare, but her trembling hand is enough for you to be satisfied that she is feeling disturbingly antsy. “What are you talking about? If you’re here to show your insolence instead of sincerely apologising and redeeming yourself, then get out.”
“Oh, don’t feign ignorance, mother.” You sneer at her, unfolding your arms as you stalk towards her. “I know what sort of relationship you have with them. I know about you.” Your tone holds a tint of darkness that is foreign to you, but you are driven by the resentment towards your mother as you continue with the cruelty deepening your smile. “Ah, the lovely irony of whore-shaming your own daughter when you’re just the same. The apple indeed doesn’t fall far from the tree─”
A loud smack resonates throughout the kitchen as your head is flung sideways from the impact of your mother’s palm, and there comes the stinging pain on your cheek, but you refuse to allow the waterworks you have been keeping at bay to erupt any sooner, and so a chuckle leaves your lips instead as you slowly divert your attention back to your now teary-eyed mother.
“How could you stoop so low to disrespect your own mother?!” She raises her voice, and the betrayal in her tone elicits a disbelieving scoff from you while she continues. “You don’t know anything, Y/N Kang!”
“Don’t I, really? I’ve only recently discovered your infidelity, but I know for a fact that you had an immoral history with them! Yet you dared to chastise me for fucking around with their sons when you don’t even have the right to!” It has now become a screaming match, no longer are you bothered by the fact that they might hear you.
“Y/N!” Your mother gasps loudly as though you have just physically attacked her, but you are relentless, and this time, tears begin to spill from your eyes. “I am your mother! And you have no idea what I feel for them─”
“I don’t give a damn about your feelings, but for fuck’s sakes, you are a married woman!” The veins in your neck are protruding as you overpower her sound. A sardonic yet broken chuckle falls past your lips. “Oh, so now you want to remind me that you’re my mother, but weren’t you the one who declared that you no longer recognised me as your daughter? Because to you, I’m apparently a whore!”
You cut off your mother before she can open her mouth to speak, hurling your pent-up emotions, including resentment towards her, like shooting bullets. “You’re a hypocrite, mother!” You spit out while hot angry tears continue their descent on your face. “You condemned me for spreading my legs and fucking around, but you’re even worse! You sneaked behind Dad’s back to pursue your trysts with them! Do you even realise how disgraceful that is?!”
It seems that your words are impactful because this time, any traces of indignation in your mother’s firm demeanour completely dissipate, replaced by the fear and indignity dawning on her. Her lips tremble as she attempts to reach out for you. “Y/N─”
The fresh pain of betrayal and hurt consumes you as you back away from her. “Dad has always worked hard for this family, and no matter how busy he gets, he always makes time for us and for you.” You sob out at the same time she does. “I thought you’re in love with Dad. I thought you’re happy with him.”
“I do! I still love your father!” She defends herself, lacing with such desperation, and yet her declaration doesn’t deter you. “Please, honey, my feelings for your father have never changed, but you have to understand that my history with the four of them is something that is complicated. I still care for them, but the one that I truly love is your father!”
“But those pictures said otherwise.” You sniffle, wiping the continuous tears away from your cheek.
“What? What pictures?” She asks, confused.
“It doesn’t matter, but what matters is that you ruined what I thought the love you had for Dad was.” You manage to utter something in between the weeping as you stare at her with betrayed eyes. “I feel so fucked up because, throughout my life, I have known you as a doting mother who is a devout Catholic. You even instilled the teaching of Christianity in me, and yet what I discovered has ruined the version of my mother I viewed in my head.”
“I’m so sorry.” Is all she can utter, covering her mouth with her palm as she looks down due to the mortified realisation and sheer humiliation.
“Like what you’ve always said, seek forgiveness from God instead.” You say wryly. “Oh, and maybe seek forgiveness from Dad too, if he has yet to learn of your infidelity.”
“Y/N! Wait! Please, wait!” Your mother frantically calls for you just as you turn your back on her, wanting to exit from the kitchen, and she manages to grab a hold of your arm. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done what I did to you!” A sharp sob heaves from her, and the sound of it only seems to clench your heart. “I’m so sorry for disappointing you.”
Of course, you’re not about to forgive her just so easily. Without a word, you force yourself to escape from her flimsy clutch and hasten as you navigate your way around with the intention to leave the house, choking back more sobs before you cover your mouth with your palm.
Just as you walk past the living room, Heeseung’s father stops you as he calls for you, causing you to halt your steps before turning to meet his eyes. You hate how he is gazing at you kindly while guilt is written across his features.
“We admit that we overheard your conversation with your mother.” He pauses to look over his shoulders, meeting the others’ gazes as they nod their heads before continuing. “But don’t put the blame on your mother. Blame us.”
“He’s right.” Jay’s father steps forward, and it takes everything in you not to cower away due to the icy intimidation he exudes despite his neutral gaze. As you stare at the man, you can only see him as a pathetic excuse for a father who abused his son. “It was our fault. Your mother is a great woman, and she has always wanted the best for her baby girl.”
“Do you guys still love my mother?” You inquire sharply, wanting to get straight to the point. The silence from them and the way they avoid their gaze tell you all you need to know, which only brings a sneering disgust to you. “You are married, and yet you dare to love my mother? Do you think this is a game to you?”
“Y/N, I can assure you that nothing is a game, including our feelings for your mother.” Sunghoon’s father firmly counters, and you recall when Heeseung told you about Sunghoon’s father wanting his son to be erased from the face of this earth.
“I don’t care about your feelings for my mother or that you still love her, but please don’t ruin my parents’ marriage.” You plead in a cry, tears springing in your eyes once more before you cast them a withering glare. “Don’t fucking ruin my family just because yours are fucked up. I don’t want any of you to be around my mother like you always have.”
You don’t wait for their response as you flee from the living room, making your way to the door. After hurriedly putting on your shoes, you are ready to leave when the door swings abruptly open, revealing your father, who looks delightfully surprised to see you.
“Honey! What a pleasant surprise.” He stops as soon as he notices the tears staining your cheeks, the redness on your cheeks, and your lower lids from the relentless weeping. He cups your cheeks with his callous palms while his eyes go stern. “Baby girl, what’s wrong?”
You only manage a whimper in response as you shed tears silently. You open your mouth to speak, your chin wobbling with sadness, but it is as though you lost your voice, and with a heavy heart, you shake your head at him before gently pushing him away and running past him.
Yes, you hate your mother, but seeing your father after so long, you don’t have the heart to reveal the truth about your mother’s infidelity to him. You decide to sob out whatever is left in you, wiping your tears with your sleeves as you make your way to Karina’s car.
Forcing yourself to compose despite the annoying hiccups emitting from you, you startle the girls as soon as you open the door and shove yourself inside the car before slamming the door.
“That was actually longer than we thought.” Yunjin remarks from the backseat, oblivious to the sadness you emanate, but Karina, who has been examining you the moment you entered, is no stranger to the redness of your eyes and nose.
“Y/N, what happened?” Karina asks quietly, and her question draws Yunjin and Wonyoung's full attention before they lean forward to get a better view of your side profile.
You don’t meet any of their eyes as you lean back comfortably, your eyes gazing out to the window instead. “I don’t want to talk about it. Can we go somewhere else, please?” Your voice sounds hoarse from the crying and screaming.
“Of course. We know just the place you need.” Wonyoung chimes in hopes of livening the atmosphere in the car, but you remain the same. With a resigned sigh, Wonyoung’s eyes meet Karina’s with a certain knowing. “You know where.”
“I, in fact, don’t.” Karina replies as she proceeds to drive off from the curb, earning a glare from Wonyoung, but Karina, in fact, knows exactly what you need.
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“So, do you feel better now?” Yunjin’s voice pulls you out of the stupor you are in, prompting you to gain full consciousness of your surroundings and spot Karina and Wonyoung making their way to your table from the restroom.
Apparently, the three of them thought that bringing you to the ice cream parlour, which is located near your campus, was a good idea and may lift your spirits, but honestly, you feel even worse. Never mind the fact that the strawberry cheesecake-flavoured ice cream tasted amazing.
“Ice cream won’t solve my problems, you know.” You state this flatly while Wonyoung and Yunjin return to their seats.
“But you love your ice cream, though.” Yunjin points out, earning hums of agreement from the other two. “Come on, you must’ve felt at least slightly better.”
“Alright, fine.” You concede, and maybe you do feel a little better now as you find yourself adorning a faint smile before your eyes glaze with gratitude as you look over to them. “Thank you so much for being my moral support. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Consider this as our apology.” Wonyoung grabs your hand to give it a squeeze. You notice the guilt in her delicate features. “We didn’t mean what we said to you before, and we shouldn’t have treated you like that.”
“Wonyoung’s right. We’re sorry for what happened.” Yunjin offers you an apologetic smile. “To be honest, we’ve missed you so much.”
“We’ve missed being with you like this, just us girls.” Karina adds, turning the once lively atmosphere in the parlour into a pensive sadness. “Let’s never fight like that again.”
“What happened in the past is already in the past, so let’s not dwell on it.” You reassure them with a smile before proceeding to engage in another topic, gradually losing track of time due to getting immersive to the point where you almost forget all sorts of problems in the back of your mind until the night has fully ascended.
“Is it possible to get full just by eating three ice creams?” Karina asks with a groan as she pats her belly while your arm is interlocked with hers. The four of you are currently walking along the pavement to make your way to the parking lot.
“Maybe it’s just you, but I can easily finish off five ice creams and still have room for other desserts.” Yunjin tells her, and a smug smile on her lips earns her a playful scowl from Karina, to which you chuckle as they proceed to engage in banter, and soon enough, you have reached the nearly empty parking lot.
“Uh oh. It looks like we have unwanted people coming this way.” Wonyoung’s remark prompts you to look at her, spotting the sternness in her face with her eyes looking straight ahead, which you follow as you turn your head just to see two familiar figures clad in leather.
Your eyes instantly meet Jay’s steely ones, and from his expression, you have a feeling that you may or may not be in trouble. Before you can speak, Wonyoung shields you from their sight, prompting the other girls to follow her protective stance.
“Move.” Jay’s cold voice cuts through the nightly air sharply, but his stern command doesn’t deter your best friends. “I don’t have time to fuck around with you. I said, move.” You flinch slightly at the hint of warning in his flinty tone.
“No.” Yunjin seems to match the level of his austerity, and as you try to take a peek, your eyes widen at the stark, raging storms in the glaring eyes of Jay, whereas Sunghoon’s demeanour appears to be collected, but you know that he is just as pissed off as Jay. “Why are you here?”
“We need to speak with Y/N.” Sunghoon answers, his vehement tone indicates that there is no way they are leaving unless they get what they want. “Alone.”
“Whatever you need to say to her, you can tell her now.” Wonyoung counters strongly, as she has her arms over her chest in an intimidating stance.
“Didn’t you hear him? He said alone.” Jay glowers at them, but they remain unmoving, to which Jay no longer bothers to conceal his detestation towards them. “Why the fuck are you acting like her bodyguards? For fuck’s sake, it’s not like we want to hurt her!”
“Do you, really?” Karina asks in an annoying mockery that has their eyes twitching. “You guys are beyond predictable, so we don’t trust you to be alone with Y/N.”
Before things can get worse between them, you decide to step in, moving out of their body shields and revealing yourself in front of Sunghoon and Jay, whose eyes immediately latch on your figure.
You offer your girls a small smile in an attempt to assure them. “It’s okay. You girls can go ahead and wait for me in the car. Besides, they won’t do anything to hurt me in public.”
You can feel the sheer disbelief emanating from Sunghoon and Jay as their eyes drill into the side of your face. You ignore them as your eyes meet Wonyoung’s, giving her a firm nod.
Wonyoung releases a sigh, denoting her resignation, before nudging the other two. “Let’s go.” She says, and they eventually acquiesce, but not before shooting the guys a withering glare.
As the girls make their retreat to the car, you finally shift your attention to the disbelieving males, and this time, there are no traces of austerity or callousness they exhibited in front of your best friends. Just noticeable hurt glinting in their eyes by your previous statement, but they composed themselves with the rare sternness patch on their countenance.
“Do you know how much trouble you’re in?” Jay initiates the confrontation, his steely eyes penetrate into yours. “You shouldn’t have done what you did. Have you forgotten that there are always consequences to your actions?”
Your lips press thinly, refusing to back down despite feeling gradually small under their dark, pinning gaze. Your arms latch around your form, feeling the chilly wind hitting you. “I don't know what you’re talking about.” You lie so easily, and yet there is a palpable tremor in your voice.
“Heeseung is furious at you, princess.” Though Sunghoon is just as austere as Jay, the softness in his tone is so unmistakable that it almost impels you to cave into your longing and run into the comfort of his arms.
“We’re furious at you.” Jay seems to correct Sunghoon’s statement, and you nearly deflate like a balloon under the intensity of his dark gaze as he takes an intimidating step forward. “We don’t know why you did what you did, but you better have a good, reasonable explanation.”
“Stop.” You force your voice to come out strong as you back away, just before Jay can reach out to you. Your glare of hostility throws them off, and it is as though they are back to square one with you. “I’m not going anywhere with either of you. Just leave me alone.”
“Why are you being like this? Did we do something wrong?” Sunghoon voices out his frustration, while there is a hint of longing in his tone. “Talk to us, princess. Don’t shut us out.”
You shake your head, fighting against your vehement longing for them. “I just think it’s better for us to distance ourselves from each other.” You utter a broken whisper as you look away from their confused yet hurtful gaze. The tumult of emotions threatens to come down on you, springing tears to accumulate in your waterline. “You guys overwhelmed me, so please give me the space I need. Tell Heeseung that I’m sorry.”
Just as you are prepared to leave, Jay grabs you by the arm, pulling you close to him until he has you flushed against him. Your heart pumps rapidly at the warm contact of his body on yours and the way his dark eyes bore into yours deeply.
“You’re not going to walk away from us until you tell us why you’re avoiding us.” He demands calmly, while the low rasp in his voice awakens a familiar flutter in your beating heart. You notice the way his eyes flicker at your parted pink lips briefly. “I don’t want to force the answer out of you, baby.”
“Just go away!” You attempt to push him away from you in the chest while he still seizes control over your other arm, so you struggle in his unyielding grasp. Tears prick your glaring eyes as you look back at him. “I don’t have anything to explain to you! I’m not even your girlfriend!”
“Princess, calm down.” You feel Sunghoon’s presence behind you before his hands land on your tensed shoulders, alarming you at the fact that you are now being sandwiched between them.
You remain adamant, shaking your head vehemently before trying valiantly to escape from their possession, but exhaustion dawns on you more quickly than you like. “Just please…” You plead, and your voice has a noticeable crack in the end as you are caught in a whirlwind of emotions.
Succumbing to defeat, you hang your head low, hiding the sight of you in tears from them, before you instinctively lean your forehead against Jay’s chest. “Please let me go. I don’t want to argue with you two any longer. I’m tired.”
Sunghoon resists the urge to wrap his arms around you from behind, and when his eyes flicker to meet Jay’s, he gives him a firm nod, causing Jay to loosen his hold on you, but you remain in a defeated stance, unmoving.
“Fine, we’ll give you the space you need, but don’t think for a second that this is the last time you’ll ever see us.” Sunghoon speaks in a low murmur next to your ear, his cold breath fanning your earlobe.
Sniffling, you finally look up and push them away from you. Avoiding their gazes, you hug yourself in an attempt to provide some warmth amidst the chilly wind. “Forget it. I don’t want to see any of you anytime, sooner, or ever.” Despite your declaration, your heart vehemently disagrees. “I’ve decided to revert to the girl I was before she foolishly allowed herself to fall for your charms.”
“Princess…”
“Baby…”
You muster the last of your courage as you glare at them through your teary vision, unable to see the expressions they wear. “Whatever we had before, it’s over. We’re over.”
You don’t give either of them the opportunity to speak or counter-remark, as you immediately flee from them, heading towards Karina’s car, where your best friends have been watching the entire interaction closely. As you shove yourself in the passenger seat and slam the door, Karina wastes no time in driving you off, and alas, you release the restrained waterworks.
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You stayed true to your firm decision about reverting to the good Catholic girl you were before all the corruption you allowed to break you from the inside, because when Sunday morning arrives, you find yourself entering the familiar divine building alongside other churchgoers. Settling on a pew in the right aisle, you grab your bible from your tote bag and place it on your lap while your other hand clutches the rosary as you await the service to begin.
It feels foreign to you to come back here after so long, but above all, stepping foot on these holy grounds evokes an immense guilt in you, and you feel as though you are undeserving after having your impurity ripped off due to your immoral willingness. Nevertheless, you know that those thoughts are whispers of the devil in order to lead you astray again.
As soon as the service commences, you attempt to direct your full attention on the pastor as he delivers his preaching, but your eyebrows furrow at the feeling of eyes watching you, nearly dissuading you from your focal point before you force yourself to refocus again while clutching your rosary.
Perhaps it is your paranoia at the possibility that whoever attacked you the other night is back to hunt you down, but you can’t shake off the feeling of eyes fixated on your figure, especially in the way the back of your hair rises and goosebumps on your skin hidden underneath your white cardigan that matches well with your cute white floral dress.
Okay, maybe you are being paranoid, and those eyes probably belong to people seated in the rows behind you since you are seated in the very first row, but you have this strong urge to turn around, and you do so slowly. As your eyes briefly scan these people, their focus seems to be on the preaching. Just then, you feel a burning sensation drilling into your face, prompting you to shift your eyes elsewhere.
At the moment your eyes lock with his, your breath goes hitched in your throat while your heart pounds hard against your chest. Seated amongst the other churchgoers somewhere in the backrow in your aisle is Lee Heeseung.
The bill of his cap does nothing to shadow the wicked glint in his dark, mesmerising eyes, and a devilish smirk plays on his lips. Your eyes follow the movement of his tongue gliding across his bottom lip, which is adorned with the familiar silver ring. Despite the forbidden arousal stirring in your core, confusion fills your head.
What is he doing here? At least to your knowledge, Heeseung has never gone to this church, nor is he someone who is religious, so his unexpected appearance greatly confounds you. Nevertheless, you force yourself to break the devilly yet heavenly trance from his eye contact, facing the front again.
When the service ends, you exchange polite greetings and farewells to the others in your vicinity before abandoning your seat to make your way through the departing people to greet the priest, and midway, you look over your shoulder to check if Heeseung is still there. A frown touches your lips at the empty spot where he was seen earlier. His sudden disappearance only seems to unnerve you.
You grace your countenance with a polite smile as soon as the priest greets you warmly. The thought of Heeseung immediately dissipates as you engage in a meaningful conversation with the priest. However, you feel weirded out upon noticing his lecherous gaze and how often he compliments your overall look, not forgetting the way his eyes linger on your revealing legs even though the length of your dress reaches just above your knees.
You inwardly shake your head and silently berate yourself for such ill-thoughts of the priest when he has always been kind to you. Besides, your intention is to make a confession entailing your sinful pursuits, and so the priest begins to guide you to the sacrament of penance while the church gradually becomes quieter due to the others’ departure.
However, uneasiness is gnawing at you while your stomach churns, noticing that something is indeed off as he guides you to a different route and the atmosphere gets ominous.
You bite down your lip, contemplating before deciding to act upon your better instinct. “Um..Father, from what I recall, this isn’t the way to the─” You are cut off when he grabs a hold of your arm tightly, feeling as though he has stopped the blood flowing in your arm.
“What are you doing?!” You try to yank your arm from his deadly grip as he continues to drag you with him into one of the rooms where the lights are dim, shoving you inside. Panic and anxiety expand in your chest as you feel helpless against his strength.
Something dark casts a shadow across his features as he looks at you, his lips curling into a wicked sneer while you grimace at the lecherous gaze of his. “I’ve waited a long time for this, for you, my sweet child.” He says so amorously, pulling you closer until his prominent bulge is pressed against your thigh.
“Get away from me, you perv!” You scream, trashing against his hold, no longer do you hold such respect for him. “Help! He’s trying to─” He slaps you hard on the cheek and shoves you to the ground, standing over you.
You choke back a sob while tears prickle in your eyes, not understanding why the priest would do this to you. Just when you think there is no hope, the door is violently pushed open, with the handle being wholly destroyed. Before you know it, the priest has been shoved away from you, manhandled by an imposing figure.
“You sick hypocritical fucker!” Jake’s enraged voice startles you as it reverberates throughout the room. When you look at the side, you gasp upon seeing Jake deliver brutal yet skillful punches to the priest’s face as he hovers over. “You dared to assault my woman?!” He roars out, making you go flinching.
Jake is seeing absolute red and becoming relentless. Another punch, and this time, you can’t bear to see the violence as blood begins to spill.
You stand with shaky legs, getting ready to bolt your way out of here, but when another figure enters the room, you gasp again upon seeing a melee knife in Heeseung’s grasp while his eyes are ablaze with rampant storms. His focus is solely on the priest, who is being beaten relentlessly to the pulp.
You should be running away by now, but you remain frozen with fascination and horror as you watch the vicious element Jake revels in, as evident in the way he smirks. Clutching the nearly half-dead priest by his blood-stained shirt, Jake casts a glance at Heeseung. “Should we kill him off quickly or painfully slowly?
Heeseung mirrors Jake’s smirk as he toys around with the knife. “The latter is music to my ears.”
Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach at the dreadful realisation of their firm decision to kill off the priest. Sure, you now loathe the priest and feel completely revolted by his assault, but killing doesn’t sit right with you.
Just when Heeseung brings the pointed tip of the knife near to the priest’s bloodied face, you stop him with a plea, “Don’t kill him!”
The sound of your voice draws their attention in an instant, but the expressions they wear on their faces cause your stomach to churn unpleasantly. Jake scoffs, his gaze burning into your face. “You don’t get to decide the fate of this sick bastard. He fucking assaulted you, Y/N. He must pay the price.”
“N-Not like this. Please.” You try to reason with them, and a tear trickles down your cheek while you tremble with a palpable fear for them. “We can report him to the police instead. Just please, no killing.”
“You don’t seem to understand that you are in no position to make demands.” Heeseung says lowly, the warning projecting in the rasp of his voice while his dark eyes penetrate into yours. A cold smirk plays on his lips as he diverts his attention to you. “For that matter, you had the audacity to stop us and tell us what to do after what you did.”
“H-Heeseung…” You whisper in a panic, your tearful eyes bringing him a wicked delight as you slowly back away from him.
Heeseung stalks towards you, chuckling softly. “Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t think I’d forget your rebellion, did you? It’s time for you to face the consequences, and how fitting it is to punish you on these sacred grounds.”
Entering fight-or-flight mode, you decide to flee from them, bolting out of the room and navigating your way back to the pew since you had left your belongings there. You hear thundering footsteps from behind you, eliciting a fearful sob from you as you know that Heeseung is relentlessly chasing after you, and unbeknownst to you, he is catching up fast.
When you arrive at the crossing, you are greeted by a desolate sight, bare of any churchgoers. It is eerily silent too, with the exception of your harsh panting as you halt from running, needing to gasp for air while your chest feels tight. Running really is your weakest suit.
You spot your belongings at the previous spot you were seated at, and just before you move forward, the door ahead of you from afar opens, revealing Sunghoon and Jay sauntering into the church leisurely with equal boredom on their countenances, and in their manner, it is as though they are on the grounds of their territory.
“You two are just in time.” Heeseung startles you from behind, but your reaction in eluding him delays, resulting in you being caged in his possession with his hands seizing your arms now being interlocked behind you securely.
“Heeseung! Let go of me!” You struggle valiantly against him despite apprehension coiling within you, and when a rising anticipation at the feasible thrill of what they have in store for you stirs in your inner core, you silently berate yourself for nearly forgetting your morality.
Your eyes flicker to Sunghoon and Jay as they continue to advance forward, their neutrality at the sight of you being held captive in Heeseung’s possession confounds you. Nevertheless, you have no idea why you desire their help when they are probably in it too. “J-Jay, Hoonie…” You utter their name weakly, feeling dejected by their indifference.
“They’re not going to help you, sweetheart.” Heeseung chuckles lethally and softly beside your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “They’re here to take out the trash, and who knows if they want to watch us as well?”
“Heeseung, please.” You whimper out, fear is palpable in the tremor of your voice, and yet you can’t seem to put a stop to your stirring arousal in your core at the deliverance of your punishment from him. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to.”
“Oh, but you did mean it, sweetheart. The camera in my office captured everything. You just couldn’t keep your pretty hands to yourself and stayed curious like the good fucking girl you were supposed to be.” He snarls coldly, evoking more dread in you that soon mingles with your unbearable arousal, causing you to discreetly squeeze your thighs together.
The commotion coming from the side prompts you to turn your head, and your eyes widen in horror at the sight of the fucked-up priest, whose face is close to wrecked with blood smeared all over, being dragged across the floor by Jake with ease.
“Thank fuck, you guys are here. He’s heavy as fuck.” Jake groans loudly as he releases the priest’s limb without any thought of gentleness when Sunghoon and Jay approach him. “Handle him, and I don’t care how or what you choose to do with him.”
“What did he do again?” Jay inquires rather uninterestedly, wanting this to be done as soon as possible.
“Sexually assaulted young girls for the past few years and threatened them into staying silent.” Jake lists them down, whereas you become genuinely appalled by the revelation. When his eyes flicker at yours fleetingly, you flinch slightly. “The fucker assaulted our girl too.”
“Say less. We’ll get the job nicely done.” Sunghoon affirms, adorning a smile that gives you the chills. You watch as Sunghoon and Jay drag the priest by his arms, seeming to be making their way to the other exit and leaving you with the very two predators you should be evading.
“Lovely.” Jake drawls out, his charming grin is a deception you recognise, while his eyes are overtly displayed with a mingling displeasure and lust. “Where are your manners, my love? We did save you from that pretentious bastard.”
“T-Thank you.” You stammer, your cheeks flushing pink with humiliation, under their burning derogatory gaze.
“Awww, isn’t she adorable, Heeseung?” Jake coos, his gentle tone dripping with mockery, as does the way he looks at you, akin to how a predator is ready to pounce on their prey before devouring them alive.
Heeseung hums in agreement as he strokes your cheek in a hauntingly loving gesture. “You’re right. She’s so fucking adorable.” You hear the sneer in his voice before he directs his speech to you. “Just like how adorable you were trying to escape when you should’ve known that I’ll always win over you, sweetheart.”
“I wasn’t trying to escape!” You accidentally display your defiance, denying the obvious truth, and you smack your lips shut together while berating your idiocy once more.
“So she lies as well.” Jake tuts disapprovingly. “The list just keeps adding. First, you broke one of our rules by trespassing on Heeseung’s office for the second time. Second, you didn’t want to see us anymore. Now, this?”
“Someone needs to be taught a lesson or two.” Heeseung chuckles darkly, eliciting an enticing whimper from you that goes straight to their cocks. “It really is fitting for our girl to be punished on these sacred grounds, right, Jake?”
“Definitely.” The sensation of Jake’s eyes raking all over you feels scorching. “Bad girls need to be taught some lessons, and it looks like our sweet angel has fallen. We can’t have you become bad. No, you need to be good just for us.”
It is really confusing. You are caught up in a predicament where the rational part of you beseeches you to follow your morality and refuse your awaiting predators, but another part of you, which you regard as corrupt, is pulling you to its side, lulling you to succumb to their depravity.
“Did you know that Jake was such a good boy, just like you?” Heeseung purrs in your ear, dripping with his seductive allure that projects in his husky voice.
You shudder lightly as you feel his wet muscle licking a stripe on your earlobe before speaking to you in a deceptive, gentle tone that belies familiar darkness. “Oh, yes. He even took his studies in religion to a higher level, which almost granted him the opportunity to become a preacher. It’s rather fitting for him to preach and correct the errors of your ways now, yeah?”
A whimper leaves your lips when Heeseung seizes your chin without any gentleness to forcefully turn your head to look at Jake, whose dark eyes penetrate into yours and bear such wicked intent, while a smirk unfurls on his lips as he stalks towards you.
“Please.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, while a tear escapes from the corner of your eye as Jake caresses your cheek in a hauntingly loving gesture. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to─”
“Oh, you’ll be begging for forgiveness, alright.” Jake chuckles coldly, no traces of his usual charming mirth are detectable. His thumb brushes across your bottom lip sensually before tugging it down, causing your lips to part open while you remain helpless in Heeseung’s impenetrable hold.
“I’m your fucking preacher now, and since you are so desperate to seek forgiveness, you’ll be confessing your sins to me while I fuck you until I decide when you can be pardoned.” Jake says so harshly, causing more tears to accumulate in your eyes. His dark eyes bear zero ounces of clemency, while his countenance reminds you of the night when he embodied a serial killer. “Now face the damn cross and get down on your fucking knees.”
Once Heeseung releases you, you know better than to delay further, following Jake’s instruction despite the humiliation descending on you before you finally find yourself kneeling on the ground and facing the imposing cross.
“On your fours, sweetheart.” Heeseung instructs firmly, his gentle tone does nothing to ease your frayed nerves. You swallow down a whimper as you reluctantly lean your body forward with both palms pressed on the floor, feeling exposed from the back since you are bare of any safety shorts.
You feel Jake’s hands manoeuvre from behind you, lifting the entirety of your dress to fully expose your ass, with your white lace underwear barely covering the expanse of it. You don’t have time to grasp the sensation of his callous palm landing on your ass cheek hard, as it sends you a shocking wave in a painful ripple through your body before he does it again.
“Ah! Jaeyun!” You yelp out, your body jerking forward due to the impact, before you feel fingers tangling in your hair to grab a fistful of your hair and apply enough pressure to pull your head to the back, making you face the high grand ceiling.
“I’m not hearing any apologies from you yet, lovely.” Jake tuts as he rubs the soreness of your ass cheek soothingly before taking you by surprise when he smacks it twice hard, eliciting a sob from you, and yet, you can feel your arousal staining your underwear as it leaks from your needy cunt. “I can do this all day.”
“Please! I’m so sorry! I made a mistake by breaking your rule!” You begin your confession, apologising through sobs as well, while tears are prickling in your eyes as he remains unforgiving in spanking you. “I promise I won’t do it again! Please! It hurts!”
“Oh yeah? If it hurts, then why are you so wet from your punishment, lovely?” He chuckles sardonically as he finally ceases the spanking, only for his fingers to migrate your lace underwear and stroke the outer of your cunt, where he spots a visible wet patch on the material. “Naughty, dirty angel. If you wanted to be punished like this so badly, then why didn’t you say so?”
You feel him releasing your hair, allowing your strained neck to rest. “I-I don’t─” A gasp leaves your lips at the moment Jake practically tears your underwear savagely and tosses it aside. “Jaeyun! My underwear─”
“Shut up.” Jake cuts you off sharply, earning him a dejected whimper from you while he loosens his slacks, freeing his erection that desires to be buried in your warmth after so long. “I’m going to fuck your sweet cunt, and you’re going to fuck Heeseung’s cock with your mouth. You’re going to take us both like the well-trained slut you are for us.”
It isn’t really helping when your cunt keeps clenching anytime either of them delivers their degradation to you, and it’s even worse when you are eagerly anticipating for their cocks and for them to ruin you once more.
“Come on, sweetheart. Open up.” Heeseung towers over your figure in front of you while your hungry eyes are staring at his erection, the pink tip is engorged. You part open your lips, inviting him to push his cock into your hot cavern, and he does.
You try your best to avoid gagging as the head gets further away, grazing against the roof of your mouth. A pleasurable sigh leaves Heeseung’s lips as soon as you begin to fuck him with your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head before deepthroating him skillfully like a pro, earning you an approving rumble from his chest while his dark eyes watch you.
Seeing as you are too distracted with Heeseung’s cock, Jake smirks softly and aims his cock directly at your cunt, just for the head to rub against your slick folds, eliciting a muffled moan from your stuffed throat as the head continuously bumps your neglected clit.
Without any further foreplay, Jake thrusts the entirety of his length into you as your walls welcome him, despite the tightness that has him biting down his lips. The sheer girth of his shaft has you whimpering and moaning that are restricted by Heeseung’s cock, causing you to stop as Jake unyieldingly delivers his slow yet hard thrusts into your needy cunt with the walls fluttering around him.
Not satisfied with your performance, Heeseung grabs a fistful of your hair while your jaw goes slacken, and your teary eyes meet his stern ones. “I didn’t say you could stop, did I?”
You immediately shake your head at him before resuming, but it is getting harder to focus on Heeseung when Jake is fucking you from behind so deliciously as the sound of his thighs smacking against your bums resonates throughout these sacred walls.
“Oh, fuck, lovely.” Jake throws his head to the back, gritting his teeth at the delirious sensation of your fluttery walls practically vacuuming his cock, as though they never want to let go, prompting him to deliver shallow thrusts while picking up the pace. “You must’ve missed my cock that much, yeah?”
There is no possible way to verbally respond to him other than muffled moans. Heeseung uses your hair as leverage to fuck himself into your mouth; each thrust gets shallower as the head hits the back of your throat.
“Good girl. Take my cock like the champ you are.” Heeseung coos, admiring your tear-stained face and how sinfully innocent you look with your eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him while your mouth is stuffed full by his cock. A muscle pulses in his jaw, unable to prolong the impending orgasm as it reaches its climax. “I’m gonna cum, sweetheart. You know what to do, yeah?”
You nod your head, eager to please him, and hurl him to the edge as you play around the sensitive tip with your tongue before deepthroating him and going still as he finally cums into you while you gladly swallow every drop.
“That’s it. Oh, my beautiful sweetheart.” Heeseung continues to shower you with compliments that make your heart swell, whereas Jake feels neglected by your lack of attention.
As soon as Heeseung steps away from you, Jake grabs you by the hair and pulls it back while he fucks you harder yet precisely shallow, which has you nearly seeing stars in your vision.
“Oh God!” You moan out, lost in a haze of intense pleasure, with your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as he sets a brutal pace that you never knew you needed from him.
“No God, baby.” Jake rasps, his voice thick with gratification and his eyes darkening as he revels in the sweet sound eliciting from you, adding to the symphony of your sinful intercourse in front of the holy cross. “Only Jaeyun for you. I’m your God now.”
“Jaeyun!” You begin to blabber, deprived of complete coherence, as you begin to fuck yourself back on him, wanting to feel him deeply, and when the head manages to hit that spot deliciously, a loud moan tears from your throat. “Oh! Jae! Right there!”
“Right fucking there?” Jake growls as he tightens his grip on your hair, drilling his cock deep into you, and fuck, he feels it, the head hitting something spongy inside you while the repeated action of his draws out more moans from you. “Yeah? That’s your spot, lovely?”
“Please! More!” You sob out, completely delirious to the sensation of his cock that consumes your every sense, and unbeknownst to you, more than one pair of eyes have been watching you.
“Don’t be greedy, love. It’s a sin.” Jake chuckles, mockery lacing his tone, but his voice sounds nearly strained as his impending orgasm comes forth, rendering him teetering at the edge while his vigorous thrusts don’t let up. “Fuck. I’m going to cum in you, lovely.”
You whimper out while tears cascade down your cheeks, and at the same time, your orgasm hits you violently when his hips go completely stilled with his cock burying to the hilt, dumping his cum into your womb to mix with yours. Still, you feel dissatisfied, as evident in the way your walls go clenching around him like crazy, eliciting a breathy chuckle from the male.
Jake gently pulls out his cock from your nearly battered, fluttery walls, earning him a needy whine from you, which he clicks his tongue at. “Don’t worry, lovely. You’ll get what you want. Now get up.”
Slowly, you stand on shaking legs while your thighs and knees are evidently sore. Heeseung takes you by surprise when he grabs your arm firmly to guide you forward. Your confusion is mingled with immense guilt as you feel the weight of the holy cross glaring at you while he guides you until you reach the altar.
“Sit and lay down with your legs spread open.” Heeseung calmly instructs you, but you remain frozen, shaken from the core at the realisation of what he is about to do. “I’m not going to say it again, sweetheart.”
Not wanting to piss him off, you obediently follow his absurd instructions while ignoring the wicked thrill in you. As you sit on the altar and face the front, your heart nearly drops at the sight of Sunghoon and Jay, who seem to have been watching you from the spot where Jake had fucked you, while one of them is clearly recording you with his phone.
In a blink of an eye, Heeseung has you laid down on the altar, your legs now spread flexibly for their eyes to feast upon your cunt that pulsates with the incessant need to be stuffed full again.
“Greedy for more, aren’t you?” Heeseung looms over your vulnerable figure in front of you, whereas Jake stands behind you to bind your wrists above your head, denying you any possible defiance against what Heeseung is about to do. A smirk plays on Heesueng’s lips, seeing the heavy lust amidst your teary eyes. “It seems you’ve forgotten that this should be your punishment. I guess Jake didn’t execute your punishment properly.”
“Fuck you, I did.” Jake retorts, but Heeseung merely ignores him as his eyes trail to your pink, slick folds from both Jake and your cum. A breathy moan leaves your lips as his fingers stroke your throbbing clit before rubbing it for good measure, just to take you by surprise when he suddenly lands a sharp slap on your pussy.
“Heeseung!” You scream as he does it again painfully, and another comes that has you struggling in Jake’s firm hold while your hips jerk at the impact. You sob out, feeling your pussy being abused by his relentless slaps and teasing of his fingers, occasionally rubbing your aching clit, as though to edge you in an agonising way. “Please! No more!”
“No more? But you’re fucking wet, sweetheart.” Heeseung unfurls a soft smirk as he finally relents, just to slide his fingers down on your slippery folds that are coated with your slick arousal. “Gonna baptise you, pretty girl.”
“Our sweet angel just loves the pain, doesn’t she?” Jake smirks down at you cruelly, his eyes marvelling at how docile you are being displayed like this and how your legs seem to be spreading for more room. “Oh, you do want this, yeah? Fucking give it to her, Heeseung.”
You flinch again when Heeseung delivers one last smack on your drenched-reddened folds before he lowers himself to level with your throbbing cunt and wastes no time delving into you, his hands pressing on your inner thighs to keep your legs from closing.
You gasp at the abrupt intrusion of his wet muscle thrusting into your cunt, but as his tongue dances across your sensitive flesh, licking your every wall with his nose rubbing your clit, you arch your back as you move your hips in tandem with his expert tongue delving into your cunt and the way he teases your quivering walls with his lip ring. His cap has completely fallen off as he becomes utterly drunk in your sweet pre-essence, his hunger for your cunt is insatiable.
Jake watches as your angelic face contorts into pleasure with your eyes fluttered close and moans spilling from your lips that go straight into his now-twitching cock.
The slick sound emanating from your slick cunt is utterly obscene as it reaches to your ears, only turning you on more as does the
“Oh my god! Seungie!” You mewl at his uninhibited movements, ravaging you as though your pussy is his last meal. You feel him humming, sending vibration through your quivering body, before he drags his tongue across your slick folds to find your clit and sucks on your nub, setting your bundles of nerves aflame.
“Fuck!” You cry out when he bites down on your nub without any ounce of mercy before he laps it up to soothe the pain, and yet it is a pain you have grown to crave. “Seungie.” You mewl again, moving your hips sensually as his tongue expertly swirls and licks your sensitive clit, and you become wholly consumed by the pleasure.
Without letting up his tongue, Heeseung plunges two fingers into your sopping cunt, thrusting vigorously with primal abandon. The sheer intensity of his tongue and fingers hurls you to the teetering edge, your pleasure building to a crescendo while wanton moans spill from your lips, surrendering to the rapturous onslaught.
Your tearful eyes meet Jake’s, whose eyes darken with a primal lust as he watches Heeseung unyielding punishment to your sopping cunt, and you begin to feel it—the familiar white-hot sensation sizzling through you at the same time his fingers curl in you, hitting that spot unrelentingly. “I’m gonna cum.” You moan brokenly, sobbing.
“Do it, lovely.” Jake coos as he brushes away the messy strands from your face, his eyes hold an unmistakable affection amidst the lust. “Wanna see you squirt for us.”
With Heeseung’s one last flick on the nub, your orgasm comes crashing down like tidal waves, and your release gushes out messily with fluid while your body convulses uncontrollably on the altar as you sob out at the sheer intensity of the overwhelming pleasure. Just when you think he is done, his fingers resume fucking into you, even as you continue to squirt.
Heeseung looms over your figure, his face is demented with primal lust, and a devilish smirk plays on his lips. Your heart flutters at how good he looks, his sheeny nose and chin dripping with your slick essence while his hair is tousled and his dark eyes gleam with insatiable lust for you. You whimper as he roughly removes his fingers to deliver a slap on your wholly drenched pussy.
“Look at you. Being fucked and ruined by us on these holy grounds.” Heeseung's husky voice is laden with lust, while his dark eyes gleam with familiar corruption. He slaps your sensitive clit sharply, drawing out a cry from you as he continues to degrade you while you remain powerless against Jake’s hold. “You should be ashamed of yourself, sweetheart.“
“I’m sorry.” You sob out, unable to think straight as your mind has melted into a puddle, only wanting to succumb to the exhaustion.
“That’s right. Seek forgiveness only from us.” Jake says so softly, his caress on your cheek feels deceptive, and yet you lean into his touch, your lidded eyes struggling to stay open. “We’re your salvation, lovely. You need only us.”
You nod your head slowly, feeling languid, but just as you are about to succumb to the darkness that nearly consumes your every sense, you manage to spot them holding their phones, snapping shots of you, before you finally pass out on the altar from the sheer exhaustion.
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As soon as you gain consciousness, the soreness in your lower region serves as a reminder of the event that transpired earlier in the holy church, and the recollection hits you with an unadulterated mortification as you remain numbly unmoving from the bed, facing the familiar ceiling that is painted in delicate tapestry from the soft glow of the moon filtering through your window.
You can’t help but feel surprised when they bring you back to the palace instead of abandoning you and leaving you half-stark naked on the altar, considering that you did displease them and how their cruelty was punctuated in the way they gave you both pleasure and pain.
Yet, despite the gratification that satisfies your longing lust for them, you are still caught in the dilemma of whether you want to be closer to them or to listen to your rationality and depart from their lives for good. Tears prickle in your eyes, frustrated at the clear dissonance of your heart and mind.
Not long later, you are freshened up. The whiff of your shampoo scent hits you as you march your way around to find them, your eyes hardening when you vividly recall one of them recording the entire obscenity in the church earlier, spurring you into confronting them while a stab of betrayal plunges into your heart.
After long minutes of searching for them, you finally found them across from the arcade room, where they are in the middle of playing billiards. The lighting in the room is aesthetically dim, exuding an air of allure, especially when the entire space is dominated by their tantalising presences.
You ignore the familiar jitters that flutter in your tummy at their distinct, sharp gazes on your figure, while the cold atmosphere feels oppressive, punctuated by the cadence of your rapid heartbeat. Ignoring the jitters, you focus on the resentment that stems from the betrayal, which has deeply stained the mistrust you have developed for them.
“I know you guys recorded and snapped pictures of me earlier.” The coldness of your voice is tinged with utter disbelief while your steely eyes glare at their seemingly neutral demeanour, with the exception of their equally callous gazes. A muscle pulses in your jaw, refusing to back down from their oozing intimidation. “I did not consent to any of it. So please delete them.”
Still, your sensibility has been hoping that they would listen to you since they always do, but the air of nonchalance exuding from their imposing figures shatters that hope, and the cruelty shines through in the way Heeseung smirks.
“We knew that you’d be confronting us about it, but we’re not going to delete them unless you confess to us about why you did what you did.” Heeseung says calmly, leaning his lower back against the pool table with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Oh, so you’re trying to blackmail me? Is this what you’re doing now?” You let out a disbelieving chuckle while you feel as though a knife has slashed your beating heart. “And if I don’t confess? What do you plan on doing with them, then? Posting and spreading those pictures and videos online?” You bombard them with rhetorical questions.
Heeseung narrows his eyes at this, and you notice a flare of protectiveness in his eyes. “No, sweetheart. We would never do any of that, because your body is meant for our eyes only.” He nearly growls out, as if the thought of anyone who dares to get a glimpse of your nudity enrages him.
Nevertheless, you scoff, rolling your eyes as you fold your arms below your chest. “That doesn’t change the fact you guys took them without consent from me!”
“How else are we going to get your undivided attention when all you’ve done is avoid and try to escape from us? Especially after knowing what your mistake was.” Sunghoon counters firmly, his eyebrows arching at you.
“That’s the second time you broke one of our rules, Y/N.” Jay remarks, the austerity he emanates reminds you of his father, to whom the elder managed to leave an impression. “We didn’t expect such behaviour from you.”
“Speaking of behaviour, you’ve become different after going through Heeseung’s computer.” Sunghoon points out. “Clearly, you’ve discovered something that led to your avoidance, princess.” You ignore the way your heart lightly flutters at the endearment.
“And we don’t usually give second chances to anyone’s rebellion, not even you.” Jake’s statement deepens the hurt in your chest, which springs the tears in your waterline, and when you look at him, he seems to regret the words left in his mouth before the steeliness in his eyes melts. He releases a soft sigh, settling on the single couch at the side. “Just tell us the truth─”
“I found out about our parents.” You cut him off sharply, trying your utmost to maintain your composure and not go all hysteric on them. You continue, even when the cold atmosphere feels foreboding. “I saw those pictures of them, and what disgusts me the most is that you kept an old tape of theirs─” You inhale sharply as you turn away from them, unable to continue when the recollection of that God-forsaken tape resurfaces in your mind.
From your peripheral vision, you spot Jay moving towards you rather cautiously. “Baby, we can explain─”
Your eyes are ablaze with anger and hurt as you return your gaze to them, every fibre of your being surging with unbridled tumultuous emotions that you have been keeping at bay. “What is there to explain?! That it’s beneficial for you to keep such sickening content?” You lash out at them, and fuck, you hate it whenever you are caught up in the haze of your anger, tears will always spring up in your eyes.
Jake clenches his jaw, his eyes storming dangerously with pique. “Lovely, if you just allow us to explain─”
You cut him off with a sardonic chuckle, which escapes you as your chin wobbles with sadness that derives from their betrayal. “Oh, I know. Those pictures and videos you took of me, you’re going to keep and jerk off to them just like you do to our parents’ orgy.” You can see it in their countenance—how greatly angered they are by your statements, which they deem false.
“Fucking hell, Y/N. Why would we jerk off to their sex tape when it’s meant for blackmailing our fathers?!” Sunghoon exclaims, his eyes in utter disbelief at your accusation. “Fine, if you want to know why, it’s because we’re going to blackmail our fathers once the time is right.”
“For what? Revenge against them?” You press on the matter, scoffing as you wipe away your tears. “I don’t care about whatever grudge you have against your fathers, but to involve my mother in your revenge scheme? How could you─”
“It’s not in any of your business, Y/N.” Heeseung’s low voice serves as a warning. His callous gaze seems to hurt you more. “You don’t have the right to question what we do.”
“It is when my mother is involved!” You retort angrily before sobbing, as tears are unrelentingly cascading on your cheeks. “If I had known that you were this deplorable, I shouldn’t have given my heart to you in the first place.”
“Baby.” Jay attempts to reach out to you, but you back away from him, shaking your head.
“I can’t do this anymore with all of you, and this time, I mean it when I say that whatever we had, whether I’m just your fuckdoll for you to toy around or whatever, we’re over.” You force your voice to come out strong, and yet you falter with the pain expanding in your tightening chest.
But Heeseung stops you just when you are ready to egress. “Y/N Kang, don’t you dare leave this room without taking back your words or─”
It is as though something so profound snaps within you as you whirl around to glare dementedly into his eyes. “Or what?! You’re going to kill me just like you did to Jinae?!”
This time, your strident exclamation staggers them into a complete silence that is deafening throughout the room, with the exception of your harsh breathing. The look on their faces dispels any lingering doubts about them being Jinae’s murderers, although it is not a telltale sign of guilt but rather something so cryptic as you scrutinise them for another time.
Nevertheless, your resolve remains unwavering, determined to get the entire truth out of them, wanting to listen to their side of the story of what exactly happened three years ago.
“No more hiding anything from me. Tell me the truth.” You demand, and the palpable tremor in your voice punctuates your qualm. Their deafening silence only seems to aggravate you as you clench your fist. “Why did you kill Jinae?”
“It’s been three years since her passing. Why bring it up now?” Jake deftly dodges the question as he looks away from you, his chiselled jaw goes clenching.
“How did you know about her?” Sunghoon asks sternly, his thick eyebrows furrowing at you.
“It doesn’t matter how I know about her, but I know enough that she was your prey, just like I am now. That’s why you guys targeted me in the first place, right?” Your resolve in the way you firmly speak slowly wanes as hurt flickers in your gaze at the dawning realisation. “I’m not anything special to you. I’m just your prey for you to fuck me over until you decide to end my life the same way you did to Jinae if I ever cross any of you, right?”
“Do you really think the worst of us, sweetheart?” Heeseung asks quietly, something that is akin to the hurt reflecting in your eyes glinting in his. “Do you really think that we would ever do anything to jeopardise your precious life?”
His questions hit you like whiplash as you blink away your tears, and a shaky breath leaves your lips, unable to think of anything other than the look in his eyes. Never have you ever seen Heeseung being hurt, especially by you.
Still, you don’t relent, acting upon your ego as you swallow the painful emotional lump in your throat. “Yes.” You answer shakily, looking away from them. “But by all means, you are welcome to prove me wrong. Until then, I don’t want to be around any of you because I no longer trust you.”
Like a bolt of lightning, you depart from the room before any of them can stop you, your hasten steps guiding you back to your room with the intention to pack whatever necessities and head over to your dorm.
You sniffle, wiping the remnants of tears away from your cheeks with the sleeves of your blouse, unaware of your surroundings to even hear heavy footsteps behind you that punctuated his vehemence in preventing you from ebbing away from his reach any longer.
A startled gasp tears from your throat when a hand latches on your wrist to spin you around. Transient confusion fills your muddling head. “Sunghoon─”
Without a word, Sunghoon manoeuvres you swiftly, being quite nonchalant in the way he does as he carries you over his shoulder effortlessly with one arm hooked around your waist for security before he advances forward.
You gasp once more before vexation takes you over, swinging your legs and delivering puny punches to his toned back in defiance. “Park Sunghoon! Put me down!” You squeal just as his palm smacks down on your ass cheek, causing your cheeks to turn rosier while the stinging pain of the impact renders your silence.
Not too long later, Sunghoon pushes open the door to his room and brings you over to his bed before settling down as you stand by the edge of his bed. It seems that he has already predicted your next move, because before you can dash for the door, he grabs your wrist tight and spins you around.
“Park Sunghoon─” You don’t have time to process anything when he yanks you into his chest and silences you with his lips slamming into yours.
The faint taste of cigarettes on his lips pervades your overwhelming senses, and just when you have every intention to push him away, the way he is kissing you dissolves your resistance as you melt against him like butter, reciprocating the kiss with equal fervour while your hands go winding in his hair.
Sunghoon manoeuvres you over his bed without breaking the lip lock. Your back is pressed against the mattress with him hovering over you as he kisses you like he needs air, prompting you to force yourself to pull away from his chasing lips.
The sound of your bated breath mingles with his as you gaze into his dark, penetrating eyes that swirl with unfathomable emotions. His hair is just as tousled as yours, tempting you to skim your fingers through his soft locks once more.
Before you can speak, he silences you again, capturing your lips in a kiss that is a reflection of the depths of his feelings for you while the fluttering butterflies remain in their wake.
“Sunghoon,” You manage to utter in between the kisses, your hands latching on his nape. You gasp when he gently nips at your bottom lip before placing a chaste kiss at the corner of your lips. “Sunghoon, wait─”
“Don’t leave, princess.” Sunghoon’s desperation is accentuated by the uncharacteristic softness of his deep voice, which throws you off guard, his lips ghosting yours and pressing a deep, tender kiss on your lips while his arm slithers beneath your back, hugging you close to him with a longing sense of raw intimacy.
You gasp for air as soon as he pulls away, and when your eyes flutter open, your breath hitches at the glinting vulnerability in his eyes. You swallow harshly, looking away from him. “You can’t change my mind, Hoon.”
“Please, I─” Sunghoon dips his head into the hollow of your neck, mapping his kisses on your skin, each a testament to his desperation and affection reserved for you and only you. You hear him whimpering, or maybe you heard wrong, but you swear something stirs in your fluttery heart. “I can’t bear the thought of you leaving for good. I need you, princess.”
“You don’t need me. You never had.” You whisper, choking back a sob as you are overwhelmed by emotions. Your feeble attempt at pushing him away ceases, and you surrender yourself to his addictive kisses on your neck.
“Just don’t leave.” He remains adamant as he murmurs against your neck before trailing his kisses upward and reclaiming your lips in a searing kiss. “Let me fix this, yeah?” He rasps hotly against your lips before forcing his tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch and dancing in an intimate tango with your tongue, eliciting a breathy moan from you.
His kisses and his touch feel like a scorching brand all over you, enticing you to succumb to his overpowering allure. Finally caving into what your yearning heart desires, you slowly wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you and deepening the fervent passion in the exchange of your kisses.
Maybe it won’t hurt you to indulge your heart, but you know that, at the end of the day, you need to put some distance between you and them for the sake of your sanity.
Losing track of time since the moment you made out with him, Sunghoon now basks in the warmth of your arms in silence, his head comfortably on your chest while his cheek is pressed against the plumpness of your boob with his arms around your waist, never letting go of you. Your fingers gently treading through his soft locks lull him to sleep, and having fallen for your deception, he allows himself to drift into the realm of sleep.
But Sunghoon is roused awake by the missing warmth of your body and your scent, which he has grown addicted to. Sitting up on his bed, he ruffles his tousled hair in frustration, silently cussing himself out for falling deep asleep, as evident in the soft glow of the moon filtering through his room.
Just as he has every intention to go to your room, his door pushes open, revealing Jay. Sunghoon’s frown deepens upon seeing the sombre casting a shadow on his best friend’s countenance.
“Don’t bother. She left the palace a few hours ago.” Jay tells Sunghoon in a grave tone as he leans sideways against the doorframe. A muscle pulses in his jaw. “As much as I oppose the idea, maybe it’s better if we give her some space to think.”
“What if we lose her for good?” Sunghoon voices out his worst nightmare while his eyes harden. “We can’t lose her. There's no way in hell I’m about to let that happen.”
Jay opens his mouth to speak, but footsteps approach from behind him, prompting the two of them to look at Sunoo, whose face is adorned with a mischievous smirk while Riki’s countenance remains ever so stony.
“We have good news.” Sunoo informs them in a cheery manner, totally ignoring the grimaces on Sunghoon and Jay’s faces at his bright demeanour.
“Yeah? Unless it’s Y/N coming back, then fuck off.” Sunghoon shoots him a scowl, earning him a pout from the latter.
“Well, if you don’t want to know the identity of Y/N’s anonymous texter,...” Sunoo drawls out, smirking as he sees the obvious shifts in their demeanour. “Oh, yeah, we finally cracked the code. But before we tell you who, Heeseung and Jake are waiting for the both of you in Heeseung’s office.”
“Just tell us who the fucker is, damn it.” Jay says impatiently. “Is it any of the guys on our suspected list?”
Sunoo and Riki exchange glances. Riki releases a sigh before finally revealing, “It’s─”
SYNOPSIS: After the heated yet emotional confrontation that involuntarily led to you revealing glimpses of your raw vulnerability, you knew that it was for the greater good that you had officially driven them away. But little did you know that the four ex-leaders refuse to give up on you, doing whatever it takes to get you back, even if it leads to them repressing their pride and grovelling for your forgiveness on their knees.
PAIRING: non!idols enha hyung line x fem!reader
GENRE: 18+ (mdni), adulthood, reverse harem
WORD COUNT: 48.8k+
WARNINGS: profanities, explicit themes, angst, mention of violence, alcohol consumption, manipulation, mild toxicity, smuts, unprotected sex (no!), dom!enha, mild switch!jake, mild switch!reader, name calling, mild degradation, manhandling, usage of toy (m.receiving), bondage, blowjob, fingering, pussy eating, edging, squirting, creampies, breeding kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms.
DISCLAIMER: this fic is inspired by devil's night series written by penelope douglas!
PLAYLIST: Say It Right - Nelly Furtado, Yes or No - JungKook, So Sick - Ne-Yo, Love You Like a Love Song - Selena Gomez, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Goulding, Kiss It Better - Rihanna, Night Changes - One Direction, Clarity - Zedd. ft Foxes, For You - Liam Payne & Rita Ora, Right Now - Akon, Die For You - The Weeknd, Wonderland - Taylor Swift, We Found Love - Rihanna, How Deep Is Your Love - Calvin Harris & Disciples, Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Rey, Delicate - Taylor Swift.
PREV (PART 7.1) | NEXT (PART 7.3)
✘ SERIES MASTERLIST ✘
In the solitude of his room, Jake remains stagnant on the edge of the bed, only adorned in his pants as he had come out of the shower moments prior before this. His hands clutch his head that is throbbing with a raging tempest of emotions he seeks to quell, but it only intensifies at the agonising thought of you and the stark clarity in your resolve despite how defeated you sounded at the end.
A muscle pulses in his jaw while his eyes harden as he represses those emotions from being potent that could manifest themselves in the tangible form of his rage. He knows better, because the last time he unleashed that rage, his best friends had to subdue him with all of their might amid the rampageous chaos.
Despite the inclination towards brutality that stemmed from his depravity, Jake was never the type to exhibit such violence unless it was in a suitable situation, and he had never been vigorously hot-tempered until your departure happened.
It was as if he and Jay had swapped temperament, as he is now the most volatile out of them. No longer was he the most amiable and laid-back one in the group, as he had become someone whose unbridled rage courses through his veins. Even his best friends could never fully conquer it, and Jake knew this.
The only person who can tame his rage is you, and only you alone, as it was your departure that changed him for the worse. He knew that he could never blame you for the change in him, only having himself to blame for his lack of self-control over his emotions. He recalls the times he had taken you for granted, most especially in the beginning. Oh, he truly and so desperately wants to atone for his past sins towards you.
But then, your words struck him deeply, as did the way you looked at him with an unfamiliar coldness that made his skin crawl four days ago ─ four long fucking days that only exacerbated his misery, to which he feels the incessant impatience that vehemently impels him to get you back in his arms, even if it means that your hatred for him grows.
Jake gets sidetracked from his rumination when he hears the animated bustle from the outside ─ most probably his best friends will be taking their leave to go to work, just as he should be as well, but in this condition, he doesn’t have the mental capacity to do anything except to run back into your inviting arms he dreamed of every night.
Jake is more than aware that he should not be neglecting his responsibilities to further dwell in this misery of his yearning for you, especially when his best friend can easily terminate his employment for his lack of competency in his role as a professional cybersecurity, owing to his cyber prowess that also enables him to manipulate and hack devices and data for his pernicious pursuits.
Back in Seoul, Jake landed the same profession as he does in the present, with the exception that he worked for his father’s company despite his resentment and hatred for his father, but he merely did it for the sake of distracting himself from the pain and retaining whatever remnant of sanity he had left.
Even when his days were painted blue and grey in Seoul, Jake genuinely enjoyed his profession, seeking miniscule contentment in the days he worked tirelessly with the intention to tire his mind that was always thinking about you, but at the end of the day, you managed to weave through the labyrinth of his mind.
Your face, your eyes, your scent, your smile, your laughter ─ everything about you occupies his mind unabatingly. Sure, it could be just pure obsession, but he knows that it is beyond obsession, and not even the love he has for his profession can outweigh the love his heart harbours for you.
Throughout the blues and greys of his days after learning of your departure, Jake shut out everyone for almost an entire month, and his parents were no exception. He became foreignly callous, painfully detached from everything. He was preoccupied battling with the onslaught of devastation that racked through his body.
Although he became volatile with his uncurbed emotions, he was also the most emotional. Out of the four of them, Jake was the only one who couldn’t care less about staining his tough guy image and has shed tears the most even in front of them, especially on most of his sleepless nights. Sometimes his best friends would take initiatives to check on him and found him in rivulets of tears as he called for your name weakly in his sleep while hugging his bolster tight as though it were you he was hugging instead.
Having already suffered with abandonment issues, your departure wounded him so deeply that not even his old therapist could help in pulling him out of the dark abyss he chose to spiral into. At times, he wished to rip his heart out of his chest as he couldn’t handle the palpable yearning that felt intensifying as days passed.
Jake wanted you. He wanted to be consumed by your everything. He wanted to drown in the thought of you and the memories he had with you. You were the only person who could make him become good, and what he thought was impossible happened when he found himself praying to God that you would return to him one day. You made him become religious when he should be worshipping at your altar instead, because you were and still are his salvation.
You are his Goddess. His to worship, his to provide for, and his to love until the end of time. Love was a sacred sentiment he thought was illogical until you happened. You, who have made him embrace love, which he never wants to let go of, most especially you.
Just like that, fear strikes him at the thought of you, prompting him to abandon his bed to head for his closet, browsing through the ironed blouses he had meticulously arranged and hung in the wardrobe before grabbing the black blouse. He deftly buttons up the blouse and rolls up his sleeves, busily grooming himself to look at least presentable before he hastily grabs his necessities and exits his room in a hurry.
Jake has some fears, but the thought of losing you again where you would be beyond his reach once more completely terrifies him that he can feel it twisting in his guts. Fuck it that you might hate him once he shows up. He would rather die trying to earn your forgiveness and for you to love him than to never try at all.
“Where are you going?” Heeseung’s query draws his attention briefly as he wears his shoes in a haphazard manner. It looks like Heeseung is working from home, judging by the meticulous setup of his laptop and other working necessities on the table in the living room, whereas Sunghoon and Jay are decked out in formal attire, preparing to head to work.
Jake presses his lips thinly together. It astounds yet infuriates him how they seem indifferent and have yet to talk about what happened after you pleaded for them to leave. Now he feels relieved that he will be initiating the first step instead of them.
“To Y/N.” Jake answers rather brusquely, his steely eyes observing the emotions manifesting in their facade. “It’s about time someone did something to earn her forgiveness and bring her back.”
“Jake, it’s only been four days. She probably doesn’t want to see your face.” Sunghoon states dreadfully, his tone sounding terse as though he is restraining something in him. “Give it a week, and then we’ll try again.”
“Also, shouldn’t you be working today?” Jay points out with an eyebrow raised at him. “Just because you’re my best friend, it doesn’t mean that you’ll get a pass.”
“Y/N is more important, as she should be to the rest of you.” Jake retorts while there is a certain bite in his voice, his eyes blazing with fury as he glares at them. “If you want to grovel a week later, then be my guest, but don’t you dare try and stop me from going to her now. I’ve waited long enough, and we delayed what we must do far too long.”
Jake doesn’t wait for any of them to reply as he proceeds to storm his way out of their temporary residence; his mind and heart are in consonance that resonate with the resolution involving you.
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Jake has been following you in the most discreet way possible since the moment you stepped foot outside of your apartment building, his car following behind your Uber rides. From one place to another, he never would have thought that you would turn out to be a busy woman today. Of course, he knows what you do for a living here, among other things. After all, stalking and obtaining data are two of his many expertises. He was also the one responsible for the first intrusion into your apartment after obtaining information regarding your address.
Presently, Jake remains steadfast in his pursuit, his back leaning against his red Lamborghini that is parked by the curb of the pavement walk with his arms crossed over his chest, causing his taut muscles to stretch against the material. His striking handsomeness attracts attention from the passersby in the street, as evident in the way their eyes are ogling at him, but the centre of his attention is solely focused on you and you alone, staring at you with dark intended eyes.
As you are seated adjacently to the large window in a bustling chic cafe, the midday light streaming through creates a gentle halo of warmth on your face, rendering him moonstruck by your heavenly beauty.
Unlike when you looked at him four nights ago, your eyes look animated while you are occupied in conversing with two refined ladies, possibly your clients, in the way your demeanour looks professional as well as the setup of your laptop. Even if he is observing you from afar, he can discern the air of confidence and dominance you exude as you sell your product to them, causing his chest to feel a tingling warmth of pride.
After learning of your past achievements that happened within a year since you became a freelance writer, Jake truly admires how resilient and remarkable you are at your job, especially when it is not an easy career to pursue, so he has no doubt that you will succeed in whatever product you sell to your clients as he has complete faith in you. It is only a pity that he wasn’t there to witness and celebrate your past success with you.
As his eyes remain lingering on your radiant countenance, he feels a stab of jealousy in his chest at the way you are smiling to your clients, never mind the fact that they are women. He wishes to light up a smile on your face like he once did and for you to smile at him the way you do to your clients now.
Jake forces himself to practise patience as he awaits the next few minutes or so for you to conclude the meeting with your clients. In the meantime, he decides to think and surf through the internet for places to bring you to, aside from a gift he bought for you earlier, for which he made a quick detour to the mall before stalking you from your place. To be fair, this is an impromptu plan, but he can’t afford to delay any longer, fearing that by the time he has decided to win over your heart, the walls you built to protect your heart would be infrangible and that you would not accept him for good.
As Jake lifts his head up from his phone, he spots your clients preparing to leave. He tucks his phone in his pocket and wipes his clammy palms down his pants, feeling the unfamiliar jitters all over him despite maintaining a collected facade. It feels as though he is about to ask you out on a date for the first time. Right, he has never asked you out on a proper date before. Guilt begins to gnaw at him.
Jake waits until your clients exit from the establishment before he finally sets in motion, his steps showing his avidity in hoping that you are still taking your time to leave while he deftly avoids bumping into the passerby along the street.
Entering the bustling cafe, his gaze immediately settles on your figure facing away from him. He unclenches his fist as he advances forward, and yet the closer he is to you, the more he feels like his rapid heart is going to combust.
Fuck, it’s like meeting his crush, which is not entirely incorrect but with the addition that you are the love of his life instead. He has never felt such jittery towards someone that renders him pathetic and weak in the knees except you.
Seeing as you are still busy packing your stuff into your shoulder bag, Jake decides to wait as his figure looms over yours next to the table. His shadow seems to have caught your attention as he sees you freezing in your seat with your shoulders tensed up.
His eyes remain on you as you slowly turn around to finally face him, and the light in your beautiful eyes dims with a concoction of emotions he cannot seem to fathom, but the once astonishment on your countenance is replaced by vexation, entirely displeased to see him.
His heart aches tremendously in the way you look at him without any ounce of affection and tenderness you once did ─ just a complete utter void of sentiment that pulls at his heartstrings painfully.
Jake begins to wonder if this is how you felt as a certain recollection surfaces in his mind of when he decided to become an arsehole to hurt you with his words and made you jealous with an irrelevant bimbo whose name he can’t remember.
“How did you know I was here?” Your voice devoids of affection, only stark coldness that feels foreign in his ears. You grip the strap of your shoulder bag, awaiting his response while your eyes harden with such resolve. “Never mind, don’t bother answering. I don’t want to waste any more of my time on you.”
It is as if Jake has been deprived of the ability to articulate his feelings into words since the moment your icily glaring eyes latch on his face. Not waiting for his response, you scoff as you roll your eyes before leaving the table and brushing past him coldly.
Jake clenches his fist, hating how meek he becomes and how unusual it is that his confidence seems to evaporate into thin air once he presents himself in front of you, unlike how he was a few nights ago.
Hearing the doorbell chime, Jake snaps out of his dwelling thoughts and wastes no time in chasing after you. Thankfully, you are not that far off the establishment, granting him prompt ease to catch up to you.
“Sweetheart, wait,” Jake latches his hand on your wrist, enough to force your attention on him as you turn around to face him, your steely eyes conveying such animosity that unnerves him to the point where he feels a surge of emotions that threaten to be released in rivulets.
“Don’t touch me, and don’t call me sweetheart,” You yank your hand from his defeated grasp as if he is your bane. Being too engrossed in the torrent of emotions within you, you fail to realise the hurt glistening in his eyes so fleetingly amidst the yearning. “Have I not made it clear to you that I wanted for you to leave me alone for good?”
“You did, but you know I can’t do that,” Jake speaks so gently, his voice sounding deeper as he continues to tread his words with mellowing emphasises that you can’t help but to hear him out while he takes a slow step forward. “I couldn’t go on any longer without making things right with you.”
Jake can see your steely resolve teetering, and for a split second, he manages to catch a glimpse of sentiment that belies your stringent demeanour. “Just what does it take for you to understand that I don’t wish to reconcile with any of you,” Your flinty tone almost sounds defeated. “I already told you four nights ago that I forgave you. I gave you what you wanted.”
“I don’t believe that you forgave us so easily, which is why I’m here,” Jake stands in front of you as you are finally within an arm’s reach. The way his warm brown eyes soften as he gazes at you stirs something so dangerous yet so familiar within you. “So, please, sweetheart. Don’t push me away this time. Allow me to fix the parts I broke.”
You can feel it, your resolve melting by the clarity in his sincerity and appeal, as does the way his eyes are swimming with emotions you once harboured for him or still do. You swallow down a spit to moisten your oddly parched throat, trying your utmost not to falter under his tender gaze.
“What if the broken parts are irreparable? What will you do? What can you do?” Your questions shoot out like bullets, your eyes hardening again. “Just give it up, Jake. Words don’t sway me, even if they come from you.”
“I gave up once when you disappeared without leaving a trace, and I refuse to give up now when the opportunity for me to mend your broken heart is already here.” Jake steps closer to you, his cologne infiltrating your senses while you grapple with your teetering resolve. “I’m willing to do anything, whatever it takes, and no matter the price, if it means that you’ll return to my arms at the end of the day. I’m willing to try over and over again, because that’s how much you mean to me.”
“I hardly believe that I mean anything to you.” Your ego refuses to yield despite his sincerity that resonates with you. Fragments of bittersweet memories you had with him coalesce into one as it surfaces in your mind. “Yes, we kissed, fucked, and did things that friends wouldn’t do, but we were nothing more than friends, Jake. I was your prey for you to fuck me all over.”
“Jaeyun.” Jake corrects you, his husky voice conveying a silent plea that you are able to discern. Your heart begins to pick up the beat of familiar cadence as he takes another step closer while his wet brown eyes seem to lock you in place. “Call me Jaeyun, like you always did, please.”
Instead of backing away, you remain cemented to the ground despite the dangerous close proximity between your bodies. You can feel your voice losing its flinty volume as you swallow down a painful lump in your throat. “Why does it matter to you? Jake, Jaeyun, they’re both your names.”
“I told you before, didn’t I?” A wistful smile forms on his lips that doesn’t reach his eyes while his tone is filled with bitterness. “Everyone else calls me Jake, but Jaeyun is only reserved for you.”
You force a scoff out of you in an attempt to mask the emotions that are threatening to slip beneath your facade. “Why? Do you feel special or something? It’s just a name.”
“Of course I do, because it’s coming from you.” Jake says softly, causing your heart to clench some more. “You are and will always be the only woman who has the ability to make me feel special.”
His warm brown eyes seem to be pulling in, but just before you get utterly lost in his eyes, the sound of passersby in the background milling about in the street renders you self-conscious by the fact that you two are in your own world.
You take a step back from him, ignoring the dejection glistening in his eyes. “Flattering me with words isn’t going to work.” Liar. Your heart was pumping loudly in your chest. “If you’re just holding me back to flatter me, then I’m going to leave. I have better things to do.” You really don’t, well, except to take a power nap.
“Don’t go, please.” Jake pleads, letting his inhibition go as he grabs your hand and holds it tenderly. You open your mouth to retort, but he cuts you off firmly yet there is a tinge of desperation he seems to restrain. “Give me a chance to prove that I’m worthy of having a place in your life.”
You heave a sigh. “Jaeyun─”
“Please, sweetheart. I’m begging you.” Jake implores, holding your hand rather firmly as he holds it close to his chest while the mere gesture makes your heart skip a beat involuntarily. “Give me one last chance to prove that I’m worthy of your love and to be your man. Give me another shot at forgiveness.”
Just like that, the resolve you valiantly retain liquefy and the exasperation is replaced by something so gut-wrenching in the way his eyes express emotions that you know reflects the depths of his feelings. This time, you don't protest as you allow him to hold your hand a little longer.
Deep down, you know that you would eventually cave into Jake as you come to embrace the fact that he has earned an abiding soft spot in your mended heart, even when you feign ignorance to it.
As you recall the memories you had with Jake, the back of your eyes begin to sting. Sure, there were times, especially in bedroom, where he was rough and can be quite a menace, but the Jake you remember was always sweet and knew what to say in order to allay whatever worries you had. At some moments, you even felt that you had also found a friend in Jake despite your salacious escapades, which was why you often confided in him as he understood you the most out of the four.
Yes, you have witnessed and understood that Jake is detrimental and unpredictable, and no doubt he falls under the category of psychopathic just like his best friends, which should have given you the reason to terminate whatever adoring feelings you had for him, but a part of you knows that no matter how grievously you try to efface everything about him on your mind and heart, he will always prevail in your affection that runs deep.
After all, he was your sweet Jaeyun, the Jaeyun you had missed dearly. Right now, you are seeing the Jaeyun you knew and loved in front of you despite how his divinely chiselled features look more mature than you remember.
Your fingers are itching to caress his face affectionately like you once did, but you refrain yourself. As you finalise your decision based on both rationality and sensibility, you release a soft sigh, returning your gaze to meet his anticipating one.
“Alright, but don’t make me regret this, Jaeyun.” You warn.
You can see the way light beams in his eyes that you find so endearing. “I promise you won’t, sweetheart,” His firm tone holds promises which you can’t help but to anticipate. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” You ask, your face contorting into confusion as he guides you to his red Lamborghini, to which you scrutinise his car before recognition flickers in your gaze. So he was the one who had waited and followed you all the way to your apartment on that one night when you were drinking out to your heart’s content.
“I hope you don’t mind clearing your schedule for the rest of the day, because from this moment forth, we’re on date,” Jake opens the passenger door for you, giving you a small smile that is enough to shoot a cupid arrow to your heart. You raise an eyebrow at him, noticing how his smile turns sheepish. “Besides, I haven’t really asked you out on a proper date before, so consider this our first.”
Your countenance betrays none of the feelings that are fluttering annoyingly in the expanse of your chest, but as your eyes roam around his, they soften as you recognise that he is trying his best despite how evidently nervous he is, causing your heart to clench at how genuine he is to prove his worth.
Maybe it won’t hurt you to lower down your guards around him. In return, you cast him a small smile that softens your features, unknowingly shooting the same cupid arrows to his heart that is beating in a familiar cadence for you.
“Okay, Jaeyun,” Your mellow tone catches him off guard as does your softened eyes, reminding him of the times when you gazed at him with heartfelt affection.
“Okay?” It isn’t a question to you, but more like as if he is trying to wrap his head around the fact that you don’t seem to be entirely hostile towards him as much as the other night.
You hold back a chuckle as you notice how similar he looks to a puppy that is waiting for its reward for being good while the smile on his lips slowly broadens just by your one word affirmation, granting a faint dimple on his cheek to appear.
“Yes, okay, Jaeyun.” You reaffirm softly, allowing your guards to lower around him.
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The silence enfolding in his car offers you a peculiar solace that is accompanied by the euphonious tune from the dashboard radio. His car is infused with a certain air freshener that smells pleasant, allaying any tension in your bodies.
Yet, neither of you has yet to initiate a conversation. Jake remains a jittery mess on the inside despite his concentration on the busy road, his lips tucking in between his teeth and his eyebrows furrowing in fret as he hopes that he doesn’t fuck things up today, whereas you are preoccupied with your keen observation at his navigating skills as you gaze out to the window.
From your peripheral vision, you notice the visible pale on his knuckles in the way he grips the leathered steering wheel before your eyes find their way to his chiselled jaw, which seems taut with tension. You don’t know why, or maybe you do, but you feel compelled to dispel whatever worries he has on his mind.
“You seem to know your way around here,” You strike up a conversation on instinct as you utilise what you have been observing. He casts a brief glance at you, but you manage to take notice of the fleeting surprise in his eyes. “I have to use GPS to get my way around here sometimes.” You confess, embarrassingly enough.
It seems like whatever spell you covertly cast on him works as you see his jaw going unclench. “I actually don’t,” His sincere admission throws you off guard, and you are in disbelief when his lips stretch into a lax smile. “We might get lost, so prepare yourself for extended hours of a car ride for me to bring you back to your apartment.”
“Jaeyun,” Your flat tone denotes zero amusement as you shoot him a glare.
The sound of his soft chuckles alone is melodious, awakening the flutters surrounding your heart, and it intensifies when he turns to look at you with a boyish grin on his handsome features. “I’m kidding, sweetheart. Of course, I know my way around here,” In a way, his confidence feels more like an assurance to you. “It took me a while to memorise these routes by heart and not depending on GPS.”
Realising that you are still staring at him with a certain awe, you snap out of the trance, clearing your throat as you resort to another topic. “So…” The unintentional drag in your tone sounds painfully awkward, causing you to grimace inwardly. “How long have you guys been here? Since before Milan fashion week?”
“Three months ago, so yeah, before Milan fashion week.” He answers, his eyes returning to the road as he turns the steering wheel with one hand while the other relaxes on his thigh.
“Oh,” You can’t help but to overthink, bringing a frown to your lips. If they had been here for three months, then why did they decide to see you until recently? Why the long wait?
Jake is more than aware of your resounding silence, prompting him to glance at you. “Don’t misunderstand, love. We didn’t get to you sooner because we were too busy settling down our business here,” His words hit you like whiplash, as though he has the ability to read your overthinking mind. “As much as we wanted to find you first after we landed here, we couldn’t neglect our responsibilities, especially involving our careers. Stability is important in this economy after all.”
Your interest piques at the mention of careers, which morphs into curiosity in the way you tilt your body to get a better look at him. “So what do you do? Hacking?” Your tone remains cynic. “Considering you are very much professional at it.”
Jake raises an eyebrow at your tone, his eyes remaining on the road. “Is that sarcasm I sense?”
A scoff leaves your lips as you fold your arms below your chest. "Asked the guy who hacked the smart lock on my door and intruded into my apartment.” Naturally, you expect a retort or a witty remark from him.
“I’m sorry,” His stark sincerity in his apology proves you wrong, causing you to blink your eyes at him, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. His lips pressing thinly together, his countenance unreadable, but his tone speaks volume. “There are a lot of things I’m sorry for, sweetheart.”
This time, you don’t reply, uncertain of what to reciprocate in your enunciation. Jake casts another glance at you, wanting to alleviate any discomfort he brought upon you. “If you want to know, I’m working as the head of the cybersecurity team under Jay’s company.”
“Jay’s company?” You blurt out your astonishment, your eyes widening in the slightest fraction at the revelation. “Jay has his own company?” The thought of Jay and his attractiveness being a CEO arouses something so dangerous within you. You quickly quell it, silently berating yourself.
“Well, more like his father’s, but I think you should ask him yourself for a clearer explanation,” Jake’s vague elaboration elicits a dissatisfied huff from you, to which he feels amused, before continuing. “Back in Seoul, I worked in the same line under my father’s company. As much as I hated to work for him, I couldn’t refuse since it was an obligation for me.”
You furrow your eyebrows in both perplexity and curiosity. “But you’re here now, so I’m guessing he was fine with you leaving Seoul.”
“He actually opposed it, but what do I care?” His tone carries an undercurrent of bitter resentment for the elder, despite the indifference he wears on his face with a lazy smirk touching his lips. “If he hadn’t neglected his son for years, then maybe he would’ve known that his son would defy all odds, no matter the consequences, and go through such lengths to get what he wants.”
“And what do you want most, Jaeyun?” You ask tentatively, your voice sounding mellower than the previous while your eyes remain fixated on his divine side profile.
The air around you shifts, forming a palpable tension you recognise, and yet it is a dangerous one in the way it feels raw with a delicate intimacy, causing your heart to beat in a familiar cadence at the moment he meets your eyes.
Jake feels it too, a certain unfathomable connection that electrifies just by locking eyes with you. “I think you already know the answer, love.” His voice barely above a whisper while his plump lips unfurl a soft smile while
You are pulled out of the electrifying trance when his car comes to an abrupt stop, to which you haven’t realised that you have reached your destination as he finally pulls over to an empty spot by the curb. “We’re here.” He announces, switching off the ignition.
You decide to leave your bag, only bringing your phone and wallet with you before you exit from his vehicle at the same time as him. The crisp noon air hits your skin once more while you busily direct your attention on a familiar building.
Your eyes glimmer with recognition before you turn to face him in utter disbelief and amazement. “Wait, isn’t this─?”
Jake gives you a broad smile as he stands next to you, feeling pleased by your reaction. “Welcome to Teatro alla Scala.” You nearly swoon over his accent in his perfect pronunciation.
“I’ve always wanted to watch one of their shows but haven’t had the opportunity to since I was often occupied with work.” You tell him, feeling the natural yet familiar flow of confiding in him like you always did back then.
His eyes soften. “Fortunately, I was able to buy tickets for us earlier today, and we got the best seats in the house.”
“Earlier today?” You raise an inquisitive eyebrow at him, narrowing your eyes in a subtle, playful accusation. “So does this mean that this is an impromptu date?”
Jake rubs his nape sheepishly. “It was a last-minute plan, yes, but I couldn’t wait for another day to pursue you,” He confesses, and his warm brown eyes molten with promises that send you a faint shiver. “I mean it when I say that I intend to show you how serious I am about you.”
You lose the ability to speak, only affording to blink your eyes in acknowledgement as you look at him, as if you are awestruck by him.
Jake chuckles softly, a melody you wish to hear over and over. He offers his arm to you in a gentlemanly stance. “Let’s head inside, sweetheart.” This time, you don’t hesitate to hook your arm around his before you finally venture further inside.
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Time passes by quicker than he likes, and it feels like he hasn’t been spending enough time with you. Jake feels more than relieved to know that you did enjoy the remarkable performance in the way your reaction gave away your feelings, but honestly, all he could think about at that moment in time was the close proximity of being seated next to you and the genuine smile on your kissable lips. You enchant him in the joy you find in every moment, and he wishes to cherish that joy with you.
Right after the theatre, Jake brought you to one of the famous art museums, which was only a 10-minute drive from where you were. Frankly, Jake never understood the purpose of people staring at different intricate arts with the same questionable being exhibited when they were not very pleasing in his eyes.
But when Jake saw the way your eyes sparkled with such fascination as you appreciated the exhibited arts, he felt as though he finally understood why, or at least he thought so. It was because the art itself was you. You are beyond the arts, a masterpiece that no one could ever replicate.
Jake has high hopes that by the end of today, things will remain in a smooth transition and his efforts will not be in vain. Presently, the two of you are on a boat ride with the helmsman overseeing and touring you along the famous canal of Naviglio Grande. Usually, you would be riding along with other people, but Jake specifically rented the entire boat solely for the two of you, to which you feel as though you are being cocooned with intimacy.
As the silence persists, Jake takes this moment to steal a glance at you, only to be rendered moonstruck by the natural glow on your cinematic beauty against the beaming dawn of twilight, painting the firmament a gorgeous blend of orange, pink, and purple while you are engrossed by the remarkable view.
Jake can hear his pulse drumming in his ear, matching with the cadence of his heart that feels as though it will jump out of his chest any sooner if he doesn’t look away from you. A delightful flutter brushes against his beating heart as he watches you tucking strands of your hair behind your ear.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Jake allows his thoughts to slip past his lips, but he doesn’t regret it when he sees the look on your face.
Your cheeks feel warm under the intensity of his gaze, unable to maintain steady eye contact with him. “Thank you.”
Realisation hits him as he remembers, prompting him to slip his hand into the pocket of his jacket. “Give me your wrist.” He says, to which you feel confused, but nevertheless, you comply, only to be surprised when you notice a beautiful rose gold bracelet that looks like it costs hundreds in his grasp.
You watch as Jake assists in clasping the bracelet around your wrist ever so reverently. “It’s beautiful, Jaeyun,” You remark, bringing your wrist closer for you to admire the bracelet, but you falter with a frown as you return your gaze to him. “But why? You didn’t have to. I don’t want you to spend your money on me.”
Jake gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Back then, I've never really spoiled you with anything like this, so consider this a gift from me to you.”
You can’t seem to find words to carry on the conversation, and so you resort to silence on your way back to the port while you take the opportunity to ruminate. Truthfully, after seeing and recognising his efforts throughout the whole day of your date, your heart is more than ready to accept him back, but a part of you keeps holding you back by taunting you with possibilities of him hurting you or that things would not work out well for you in the future.
It isn’t long until you finally reach the port with Jake assisting you out of the boat before the two of you proceed to leave the port, walking side by side with your hand itching to entwine with him.
Too deep in your thoughts, you lack attentiveness to your surroundings, causing you to bump someone’s shoulder roughly that nearly sends you staggering backward. You are about to apologise to the stranger, but Jake stops you as he recognises that you are not in the wrong.
“Hey man, you should apologise to my girl.” Jake has never sounded as hostile as he is now, his voice pitching lower, and when you lift your head, your eyes widen at how pissed off he really looks with his glaring eyes at the stranger who exudes such arrogance.
“From what I see, your girl bumped into me, so she’s the one who should be apologising to me, or better yet, kiss my foot,” The stranger counters, his face forming a sneer before he directs his callous eyes at you. The cynical smirk on his lips brings you an unpleasant shiver. “What do you say, sweetheart? Gonna be a good bitch and apologise on your knees?”
You already develop a strong distaste for this vile stranger whose eyes are looking at you with a predatory gleam. From your peripheral vision, you notice a change in Jake’s body language, rendering you hyper-aware of the patent wrath he emanates. “Jaeyun.” You utter his name warily.
But your calling falls deaf to his ear as he is seething and seeing red in his vision. “The only apology you deserve is my fucking fist.” Jake snarls coldly, and before you know it, things escalate into a situation you dread most.
“Jaeyun, don’t!” Your plea goes unheard while your attempt to prevent the dread is futile as Jake lunges forward to land a punch squarely in the stranger’s jaw in retaliation.
Helpful passersby step in to de-escalate the situation amidst the uproar and violence. You even try to tug Jake at the hem of his blouse, but your attempt is futile as he is in a raging stupor that even four people have had to hold him back. Although Jake doesn’t bear any bruises, unlike the stranger, whose nose is bleeding, you spot his taut yet reddened knuckles.
Thankfully, a group of them proceed to drag the stranger away from the commotion while Jake wrenches out of their secure grip, but when his ablaze eyes meet your disappointing ones, it feels like cold water has splashed onto his face, mollifying his wrath.
A scoff leaves your lips before you turn your back on him and storm off, wanting to be away from him, but you underestimate his determination as he vehemently chases after you.
“Sweetheart, wait!” Jake’s plea reaches your ear, snapping you out of your storming thoughts and making you gain awareness of your location at the bridge with the canal just below you as he stops you with his hand latched on your wrist.
But you yank your wrist from his touch that sends a tingling sensation on your skin. “What’s the deal back there?!” You snap at him, any traces of the prior amiability dissipate.
Jake shoots you with a bewildered look, almost as if he is in sheer disbelief as well. “What’s the deal─ he intentionally bumped into you! I wasn’t about to let him get away with it! Not after he insulted you!”
“You should’ve just let him be! But no, you just had to get yourself into a fight!” You express your disapproval in a fit of anger, your eyes glaring into his nearly-faltered ones, though a part of you feels deeply moved by the fact that he defended you fiercely in your honour.
His eyes hardened obstinately, undeterred by your disapproval, even if the way you are glaring at him causes a twinge in his chest. “I’m not going to apologise for my actions. He deserved it.”
You heave a sigh, frustrated by his pertinacious resolve. “You need to understand that not all locals here are friendly, Jaeyun. The next time you get into a fight with them, who knows what would’ve escalated to?”
Having had enough, you proceed to storm away from him, but he remains adamantly persistent. “Where are you going?” Jake asks, his frustration and disbelief unconcealed in his tone.
“Away from you,” You shoot your remark at him pointedly without turning around to look at him.
“Sweetheart, please,” Jake’s desperate plea pulls the strings in your heart agonisingly, and when his skin comes in contact with yours, you immediately yank your hand from his defeated touch.
“I didn’t recognise you back there, Jaeyun,” You confess, your voice sounding both exasperated and defeated. The look in your eyes punches him deeply in the gut. “I’ve never seen you in anger like that before, and you scared me.”
“No, no, no, you don’t have to be afraid of me,” Jake rushes, taking you by surprise when he cradles your face while his fingers tremble beneath your skin. “I would never ever hurt you. I’ll be damned if I do.”
“But I still don’t trust you, Jaeyun,” You utter in a splintered voice, slowly pulling away from him. “Words are meaningless if you don’t prove it with your actions. What if you betray your promises and lose control of your anger like you did back there? What if you hurt me─”
“Then I’ll kill myself,” Jake cuts you off sharply, his tone holding such dark promises that send you shivers. His dark eyes penetrate into yours, stealing your breath away by his conviction. “Or better yet, let you rip my heart out of my chest. But know this, I’ll kill myself before I could even lay a hand on you.”
“You’re crazy,” You blurt out in disbelief before you can stop yourself. Not even crazy, because in those eyes of his, there is only stark madness amidst the concoction of emotions.
“Yes, I’m crazy. I’ve been going insane ever since you left me,” Jake takes a step forward, but you take a step back, rendering him almost defeated it if weren’t for the boundless love his heart harbours for you.
“Don’t blame me for your insanity,” You retort defensively as you grit your teeth. “I did what I had to for my own good.”
“But were you happy without us? Without me?” Jake presses on incessantly, but you can discern a palpable hurt in the tenacity he seems to grapple with. “Because I sure as hell wasn’t. I was fucking miserable without you, and I knew that I deserved it for the times I took you for granted.”
You try your utmost not to be affected by his words, your resolve nearly melting. “We were nothing, Jaeyun, so why did you feel so miserable─” You are rendered speechless by the abruptness of his action as his towering figure slowly shrinks. “What are you doing?”
“What I should’ve done a year ago,” There is a palpable tremor in his voice that seems to unnerve you while you watch him getting down on the ground with both knees. “On my knees for you.”
You shake your head at him, not wanting him to shove away his pride no matter how much he infuriates you. “Jaeyun, stand up.”
Jake remains undeterred, his eyes locking yours in place so that you feel compelled to hear him out. “You asked me why I felt so miserable. It’s because when you left, I felt half of my heart left with you. I became worse than I already was, and I was always so angry," He tries his utmost for his firm resolve to come out strong in his enunciation despite the tumult of emotions within him threatening to implode. “I felt hollow and empty during my days that were painted blue. My days used to be filled with warm colours with you by my side. You brought colours to my life, but when you left, everything felt cold and dull.”
“Jaeyun,” Your voice trembles while your hands tremble as his declaration sends a wave of emotions to you.
“You need to hear this. You deserve to hear this after so long,” Jake says shakily, emotions displaying bare in his glistening eyes, and as you read him deeper, you can see how he is barely holding on. “I loathe myself when I think of those times I took you for granted, including how I was an arsehole towards you and ghosted you after I took away your innocence. You didn’t deserve that, and for that, I’m truly sorry.”
Alas, the emotions he fought valiantly to restrain burst into a torrent with an onslaught of devastation racking through his body. You remain cemented to the ground, watching in complete shock as tears unrelentingly cascade down his beautiful countenance. You have never once seen him in tears, and right now, it feels like your heart is shattering into pieces.
“I’m sorry for a lot of things, Y/N, and breaking your heart is one of them, but my biggest regret is not telling you how much you meant to me before you left,” His voice trembles with palpable heartbreak, nearly whimpering, causing tears to spring in your eyes.
“Jaeyun, just please stand up.” You implore, bending down as you attempt to reach for his arm. “You don’t have to kneel─”
“I love you, Y/N,” Jake cuts you off with a sharp sob, his pretty tear-filled eyes and his voice conveying raw yearning with a concoction of love and pain. “I’m so fucking in love with you that I might actually die if you leave me again. You occupy my every thought and my heart, and I miss you every day even if you’re in front of me.”
Before you know it, a sob leaves your lips as you weep with him, feeling profoundly moved by his confession that you had yearned to hear in a long time.
“I didn’t believe in love after I found out about my father’s infidelity. I didn’t even want to fall in love because I didn’t believe that someone could be loyal to their partner until you happened. I didn’t know how to distinguish between love and obsession, but fuck, I wanted you so bad that it hurt, just as it hurts now, because I still want you.”
As Jake continues to pour out his heartfelt confession, his heart only seems to throb incessantly with pain. “You’re the only woman whom I want to marry and spend a lifetime with. I can’t imagine my future with anyone else except you,” He manages to smile through the tears. “You’re the only love of my life. The light to my darkness. The only good thing that has ever happened in my life.”
“Jaeyun,” You want to say something, but you lack the right energy to articulate your true feelings for him, only his name can you afford to utter, just like how you’ve always wanted to call for his name until he comes back home to you.
“I’m so sorry for everything, sweetheart. If I could turn back time, I would make things right and cherish you more,” The smile on his lips is wiped off as he breaks down in an onslaught of devastation voluntarily, pleading in between sobs and whimpers. “I can’t afford for you to abandon me again. I’m so sorry for fucking things up. Please don’t leave me again. I’ll do anything, including ripping my heart out if you ask me to─”
Jake feels his heart lurching in his chest when your palms cup his cheeks to tilt his head up as you bend down, only to be silenced by your lips on his as you kiss him softly that send sparks flying around him. He closes his eyes as he latches his hand on your wrist, kissing you back with fervent desperation, and he swears he can taste colours.
Tears continue their descent from your faces even as you slowly pull away from his lips. “You’re an idiot, Jaeyun. How am I supposed to live, laugh, and love life without you by my side?” You cry softly, your palms remaining cupping his cheeks as you lean your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering close with his momentarily. “You said you’d do anything if you ask me to, so please stand.”
Jake complies with your request, rising from the ground with ease before you take him by surprise when you lunge towards him for a hug while his arms instinctively snake their way around your trembling body.
“I forgive you, Jaeyun,” You reaffirm with utmost sincerity in between sobs. “I’ve already forgiven you even before I left Seoul, and I loved you even before all of the cruelty happened. I was in love with you, Jaeyun. I thought that you wouldn’t feel the same way and that I was merely there for you to use me however you pleased.”
“I’m so sorry. I should’ve given you the clarity you deserved,” Jake tightens his arms around you, his hand ascending to cradle the back of your head with reverence as you slowly pull away to look at him with glistening eyes. “You’ve changed me, love. After you left, I prayed to God that I would meet you again one day. You made me become religious and prayed every day when I should’ve been worshipping at your altar, because you’re my religion.”
Your heart soars, and you swear you feel as though you are on cloud nine. “Jaeyun─”
“God, you’re so beautiful, even in tears,” Jake whispers affectionately, completely enamoured by you in the way he gazes at you with his pupils dilated with profound love. “I was in complete moonstruck when I first saw you after so long─”
“Jaeyun,” You cup his cheeks, your eyes reflecting the same love in his eyes as you gaze at him. “Kiss me, please.”
And he does, dipping his head down and pressing his lips squarely on yours. He kisses you as if you might disappear at any moment in time. He kisses you like he’s afraid that this is all just a dream, but when the warmth of your palms touches his nape, he knows that this is real, and so he deepens the kiss.
Sparks dance behind your closed-vision while butterflies swarm in your tummy as he pulls you closer to his body, hugging you ever so intimately. As if knowing that you need air, he slowly pulls away from your lips.
“Can I be your man?” He seeks permission tenderly, his eyes meeting yours.
Instead of answering him, you lean in to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “Does that answer your question?” Your tone matches his, your lips adorning a smile.
“More than it does, sweetheart,” Jake chuckles breathily, leaning his forehead against yours as he mirrors your smile. “Let’s head back to my car.”
“Jaeyun, do you want to spend the night at my apartment?” You ask tentatively, and yet, something so suggestively sensual swirls in your eye, giving him a sense of what to anticipate next.
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As far as Jake can recall, he has never been dominated by anyone in bed. If anything, he loves asserting dominance and revelling in the power he wields over the other, but right now, in this very heated moment between you two, he finally acknowledges that maybe he has yearned for someone to control him, and not just anyone. You.
“You’re going to kill me, love,” Jake groans, throwing his head back against the pillow with his eyes rolling to the back at the delirious sensation of your tongue dragging along the ridge and veins of his raw erection. It feels like it has been forever since you decided to edge him.
Your hum from the back of your throat sends vibration through his cock as you continue to bob your head, taking him deeply into your throat. The sound of his moans and whines spurs you further into giving him the mind-blowing pleasure in the way you fuck him with your throat.
“Sweetheart, please,” Jake pleads softly, his fingers fisting the bedding as he struggles to control himself before caving into the temptation as his hand descends to grab your hair, but the instant he does so, you easily swat his hand away.
As you flutter eyelashes to look at him, his breath hitches in his throat upon seeing the familiar swirls of sultry dominance in your mesmerising eyes. Just before he can reach his climax, you release his cock with a resounding ‘pop’ and tut disapprovingly at him.
“I told you not to touch me unless I said so, did I not?” Your condescending tone only turns him on further, eliciting a needy whine from him as you continue to edge him with your thumb pressing and stroking his wet slit. “Now I’m starting to think that you don’t deserve to cum at all.”
“No. I deserve it. I’ve been good to you,” Jake whimpers, bucking his hips up to your tantalising touch. “Please make me cum. It hurts. I need you, sweetheart.” You could spend all night to edge him just to hear him whine and display his desperation in tears.
“Since baby asked politely,” You place a wet kiss on the bulbous tip, your tongue purposefully licking the pre-cum on his slit while your ministrations elicit a soft moan from him. His heart pumps loudly in his chest as he watches you seductively crawl your way to settle above him while the sensation of your palm on his abdomen muscles sends him the shivers. “Look at you. Being so good to me. Wish you were good to me sooner.”
“I’ll be good to you, always,” Jake gasps as you curl your fingers around his neck, applying enough pressure to punctuate your dominance over him. He subtly bucks his hips up, feeling your wet folds on his shaft. You hum, ghosting your lips on his teasingly. “I promise I’ll be good to you, just as I love you, always and forever.” He whispers before you silence him, pressing your lips on his into a bruising kiss.
Breaking the lip lock, you direct your focus on grabbing his shaft and guiding it to your entrance before you slowly sink down on him, eliciting moans from him that mingle with yours as your warmth envelopes him so perfectly.
“You feel so good in me, my love,” You purr appreciatively, your fingers remaining around his neck for leverage as you proceed to move back and forth with a sensual motion in your hips while your eyes greedily drink in the pure ecstasy on his handsome face. “Do you want more?”
“Please,” He says shakily, his fingers fisting on the bedding as he refrains himself from touching you. Upon his plea, you begin to ride him like a pro, each thrust and movement sends pleasurable shockwaves through your bodies.
“Touch me,” You demand in between bated breaths, and at an instant, his large hands find home on your sensual hips before he squeezes the flesh as he adds some guidance to your movements, needing to feel you deeply, but this position is not satisfactory for him.
“I’m sorry for this, sweetheart,” Jake murmurs, taking you by surprise when he manoeuvres you before you find yourself being pressed against the mattress with his figure hovering on top of you. “Fuck, yes!” He proceeds to fuck you with reckless abandon, his hips snapping into yours bruisingly as he thrusts his cock into you vigorously
“Jaeyun, I didn’t say you could do that─” You gasp, your eyes turning white as you feel him hitting that spot, causing your walls to clench around him before he uses force to draw back his cock, only to ram into your cunt deliciously. “Fuck, Jaeyun!”
“I can’t help it. You feel so fucking good,” He whimpers, dipping his head down to your shoulder before he sinks his teeth into your skin as he continues to deliver vigorous thrusts. You circle your legs around his hips while your arms hook around his neck, meeting his thrusts that feel deeper than the previous.
In the throes of your pleasures, you can feel your climax reaching its peak, your walls clenching around him like a telltale sign. “I’m gonna cum, Jaeyun,” You moan in his ear. “Are you close too?”
“Yes. Wanna cum so bad,” He moans against your sheeny skin, “Please let me cum.”
“Go on. Fill me up like the good boy you are,” You whisper sultry in his ear, your fingers raking through his tousled locks. Jake never knew that getting called ‘good boy’ by you could make him turn on more than it should, and he desires to please you in every way you ask him to. As waves of ecstasy wash over you and him, you cream around his cock while he delivers one last thrust before going still as his warm cum spurts into your charted womb.
With ragged breaths, Jake leans on your body as you welcome him with your embrace, his head tucking in the nook of your neck while his fingers make their ascent to pinch and tweak your perky nipple, eliciting a breathy moan from you.
“Thank you,” Jake whispers, placing a kiss on your neck before trailing his kisses down at the expense of your chest, his lips encasing your nipple and giving attention to both tits.
You release a pleasurable sigh, your cunt clenching around his cock at his ministrations. You continue to rake your fingers through his locks while you gaze at him lazily with a smirk on your lips. “My handsome boy, I’m not done with you yet.”
With your other hand, you stretch it out to the side and grab a familiar device. “Lay back on the bed, baby,” You order sternly, to which he whimpers before reluctantly heeding obedience. “Remember, hands to yourself, or I’ll have to tie them.”
“What are you doing─” Jake is silenced by a groan of his own as soon as he feels shockwaves of pleasure rippling through him from the vibrator you are pressing on the raging tip of his cock while grabbing the base. “Fuck, fuck! Y/N!”
“Be a good boy and take what I give you,” Your lips stretch into a cruel smirk as you revel in the way he is at your mercy. You pout at him, feigning such innocence that eventually fails to conceal your devilry. “You don’t want to disappoint me now, do you, baby?”
“No,” His Adam's apple is bobbing deeply to the erratic rhythm of his gasps as he throws his head back on the pillow. The sensation is mind-numbing while he is teetering at the edge of his impending climax. When he looks down to meet your stern gaze, he holds back a whimper, knowing that he is in for another session of being cruelly edged by you.
Jake’s absence in their penthouse likely bespeaks that he must have succeeded in his part in grovelling for your forgiveness and earned himself back into your good grace, but it is absurd to them how he has been gone for two days, and he didn’t even respond to any of their calls or texts, which led them into suggestively thinking that he has earned more than just your forgiveness.
Unfortunately, the three of them have been preoccupied with respective responsibilities for the past two days to discuss and collectively decide who will be making their next moves first. And so one of them, specifically the most inherently competitive one out of the four, decided to make his first moves without any consultation. Things were going smoothly until he received an earful through a call from a certain someone.
“But we haven’t even discussed this with Heeseung yet!” Jay exclaims, his disbelief punctuating, but Sunghoon remains undeterred in his pursuit while his eyes are examining the flowers that are meticulously displayed to captivate customers’ interest.
Presently, Sunghoon is at a florist boutique, which is situated in the same street where he temporarily resides, and truthfully, he has been struggling for the past fifteen minutes, worrying incessantly if he chooses the flowers that are not to your liking. He even has no idea what types of flowers these are, rendering him frustrated, but he doesn’t wish to head over to your place empty-handed.
What is more astounding is the fact that he is doing this, to which he has never done or bothered to be semi-romantic with the girls he had been before, simply because he was an anti-romantic, which explains his struggle at the moment, but for you, he is willing to struggle for more.
“Yeahhh, sorry buddy. I already lost to Jake. I can’t lose to you and Heeseung too,” His tone is anything but apologetic, being completely nonchalant, which irks Jay on the line. Sunghoon allows his eyes to skim through the flowers for another time before reaching for a small bouquet of garden roses and inspecting them. “Besides, I’m already on my way to her place, so don’t even think of trying to ruin my plan.”
“Heeseung is not going to like it when he hears about you,” Jay admonishes, and of course, Sunghoon disregards his warning as relevant while he makes his way to the cashier with the small bouquet of garden roses in his hand.
“For Y/N, it’ll be worth it. She is always worth the risk,” Sunghoon says firmly before putting his best friend on hold to make payment. Sunghoon gives the cashier a small smile of gratitude, who evidently swoons over him before he proceeds to exit the boutique and resumes the call with Jay. “You can have your turn once I’m done, and that is, well, probably a long time.”
“Park Sunghoon─” Sunghoon immediately ends the call before Jay can prolong his admonishment. Shoving his phone in his pocket, he glances down at the flowers in his grasp, and something so foreign spreads in his chest, which amplifies his heartbeat.
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With one hand controlling the steering wheel, he rubs his throbbing temple with the other while his hardened eyes focus on the road. Throughout the ride to your place, Sunghoon has been grappling with an unabating turmoil, rendering him to worry incessantly once more with his mind conjuring up possibilities of the outcome of his pursuit.
But Sunghoon is audacious enough, even if it means that you might shut him out. He has waited far too long, and he has yearned for you to return to him. Above all, he yearns to return in your arms, in which he has found home. You are his home, a home his heart called to longingly, his heart that has bled for you.
Just like the others, Sunghoon was not himself after learning of your departure, but he rarely verbally expressed his emotions, even to his best friends. Instead, he became aloof and colder, always distancing from the others to deal with the tumult of emotions and feelings he could not articulate. Hence, he sought solace in expressing those feelings by delivering his punches to the impenetrable punching bag in their private gym.
But it wasn’t enough, and so he busied himself with work. He worked for Jay’s father as an architectural drafter since it was in value to his degree. It was more or less a generous offer from Jay’s father since, coincidentally, Sunghoon had no idea what career to pursue as he was too distraught by your departure, so he was grateful to Jay’s father, even if he detested the elder.
As for Sunghoon’s father, Sunghoon could never forgive him for the attempted murder by hiring a hitman, resulting in him departing from his so-called family for good. From then onwards, he regarded himself as someone who had no family, not that he was devastated over in the first place, because nothing was ever more devastating than you leaving him for the second time.
Sunghoon recalls spending his grey days in regret and utter devastation beneath his deceptive, callous facade. He doesn’t recall shedding tears, or maybe he did in his sleep whenever he dreamed of you and called out to you, but he knows for sure that his bleeding heart weeped every day for the loss of his princess.
Everything about you, even the little details he could vividly remember, haunted him in his mind every day and night ─ a poignant reminder of what he took for granted. At times, he could physically feel the pain in his heart whenever you struck on his mind.
Initially, Sunghoon thought that finding you in a short period of time would be impossible since you could be anywhere across the globe, but then he remembered about Milan, which you mentioned to him once. He hated himself for being too late, and by the time he found you when he first saw you at Milan Fashion Week, he knew that getting you back was not going to be easy.
Sunghoon regrets many things that centred around you. He regrets hating you in the very beginning, for reasons he deems farcical. He regrets the times he has treated you degradingly. He regrets not cherishing the moments he had with you so deeply. Above all, he regrets not letting you know how much you meant to him that no one could even come close to how he held you in his tainted heart.
Sunghoon was not a believer of love or any of those mushy-gushy sentiments, but you made him become one when he finally acknowledged that he was indeed in love with you in what he thought was impossible to develop such feeling, just as you made him want to become a better man for you.
As Sunghoon finally pulls over by the curb of the pavement in your street building, he is firm in his resolve that this time he won’t lose you. There is no room for debate. He must have you back, or he might actually cave into his depravity in capturing you and keeping you locked in his possession until forever, no matter if the consequence leads to you hating him with vehemence.
It isn’t long until Sunghoon reaches to the right floor as he heads for your unit with the bouquet in his hand. His inner turmoil remains unabating the closer he gets to your door. He clenches his jaw, hating how he feels the incessant jitter when he has dealt worse. As Sunghoon stops directly in front of your unit with the bouquet hidden behind him, he forces himself to press on the doorbell before he can even allow the second thoughts to influence him in changing course.
Right after he presses, the door swings open, nearly sending his heart into a cardiac arrest, especially when you are standing in front of him, all dolled up in a cute baby blue blouse that complements with your skirt. When his eyes finally meet yours, he sees how taken aback you are before a blend of confusion and annoyance swirls in your eyes. He senses a hostility emanating from you that adds to the brewing tension.
“What are you doing here?” You break the ice, your tone sounding displeased and your eyes showing no traces of cordiality.
Sunghoon refuses to deflate from the clarity in your apparent animosity towards him. “Where are you going?” He asks cooly, wearing a mask of casual bravado.
You narrow your eyes at him as you fold your arms below your chest. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“And you didn’t answer my question,” Sunghoon counters arrogantly while the smirk playing on his lips causes your cheeks to flare in either exasperation or the fact that you actually find him insufferably handsome with his raven bangs falling over his dark brows and his black leather jacket complementing his overall fit. “I can do this all day, princess.” The husk in his voice stirs something so dangerous in you.
You scoff in disbelief, trying to quell that unprovoked arousal. “I have work involving meeting my client. Now, answer mine.” You demand haughtily.
“Your work starts in the afternoon?” Sunghoon merely ignores your demand as genuine curiosity strikes him, but realisation immediately hits him, prompting his eyes to wander behind you where he is able to glimpse the entryway to your living room apartment. “Right. Is Jake still here? I’m sure he’s here. He didn’t go back to our place for two days.”
“That’s two extra questions, Park Sunghoon.” You deadpan, shooting him a scowl as he continues to taunt you with his smirk that you wish to wipe off from his handsome face.
“You’re going to answer them anyway,” He shrugs his shoulders, sliding his hand into his pocket. Curiosity sparks within you as you notice his other hand hiding behind him, but you choose to disregard it.
You heave a sigh, recognising that Sunghoon remains wilful as ever. “I’m a freelance writer, so my work can start anytime in the day, and secondly, Jaeyun’s asleep,” You state in exasperation, your tone changing into a warning and your eyes glaring accusatory at him. “Don’t you dare barge inside and wake him up. I want him to rest for more.”
Sunghoon looks at you as if you had offended him. “I didn’t even say anything.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “I know that look. I know you.”
The smirk on his lips falters as soon as an air of melancholy is present amidst the tension, his features softening. “I’m glad that you still know me, even though I don’t know the new you.”
Silence drapes over you as you remain cemented to the floor, unable to tear your gaze away from his softened eyes. His words that were uttered in a soft tone carried an undercurrent of poignancy, parallel to the emotions swirling in his dark eyes.
You can feel a palpable connection that seems to deepen as you are drawn into the cryptic wonders of his eyes before you force yourself to look away from him and clear your throat. “Can you move aside?" Sunghoon does the opposite, and this time, he decides to unravel the mini surprise to you, prompting you to look down at the beautiful authentic garden roses bundled in a small bouquet. You don’t bother to conceal your awe, and something stirs in your heart that is beginning to pick up a familiar cadence as it beats for the man in front of you.
“What is this?” You blurt out, unable to articulate your jumbled feelings, but nevertheless, you accept the bouquet, your heart remains beating, which is going borderline rapid by his mere gesture that has a profound impact on you. You thought that this mere gesture only existed in rom-com books or movies, but you never would have thought that Park Sunghoon would be the one to pull this move.
Sunghoon observes the way your eyes gleam delightfully as you examine the garden roses in admiration. “I read somewhere online that in order to get your girl to fall for you on your first date, you should give her flowers at her doorstep.” He says, masking his diffidence with a simper smile.
A scoff leaves your lips as you try your utmost to avoid giving away that you are entirely amused by him. “I’ve never heard of such tips.”
“You’re right. I made it up,” His genuine smile that displays his fang-like teeth awakens the butterflies in your tummy. “Now let’s go for our date.”
You raise a challenging eyebrow at him. “What makes you think I would want to go anywhere with you?”
“One, because I know you skipped breakfast. Two, you can never say no to this face.” He points his finger to his smug face while you ignore the fact that he still remembers a habit of yours.
You release a petty huff before deciding to step out of the threshold as you close the door behind you. “You’re so incorrigible and insufferable.” You tell him in a brusque manner, brushing past him as you make your way to the elevator while still holding the small bouquet.
Sunghoon easily catches up to you with his long legs, now walking alongside you. “Pick one, princess.” His chuckles sound annoyingly melodious to your ears.
You know that you should not entertain him any longer for the sake of your sanity, but all it takes for you is a single glance at his face to cave into him. “Insufferable it is.”
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“Isn’t this a bit fancy just for a lunch date?” You break the painful silence as soon as you finish the last bits of your food before reaching out for your glass of cider. “You didn’t even tell me to change into something nice.”
“What are you talking about? You do look nice,” Sunghoon insists, his eyes raking all over you, feeling invasive, prompting you to look down at your empty plate while your cheeks feel warm. He snaps out of the trance before clearing his throat. “You look gorgeous as always.”
“You’re just saying that to flatter me.” You mutter dryly, appearing unaffected by his compliment even though you feel a flutter in your heart.
“You know that I don't flattery,” Sunghoon retorts firmly, and when his eyes meet yours, a smirk plays on his lips. “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”
This time, you decide to voice out what has been bothering you since the moment he appeared at your doorstep. You heave a sigh, feeling defeated. “What are you doing, Sunghoon?”
Sunghoon raises his eyebrow at you as he places down his empty glass on the table. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, this.” You gesture between you and him with your hands. The frown on your lips deepens. “A lunch date won’t erase what happened, and you can’t pretend like nothing happened.”
“That night, you told us that we should’ve tried harder if we wanted you that bad,” Sunghoon recalls as much as the recollection pains him. His eyes display steely resolve, and you know he won’t concede defeat, even if you reject him countless times. “That’s what I’m doing right now, Princess. From today onwards, I’m going to pursue you and show you how serious I am with you.”
Bitter chuckles leave your lips. “A year ago, I thought I could escape you. Everything was working out well for me,” You divulge a part of your vulnerability you retain. “I finally didn’t need to rely on someone to find happiness. I finally learnt how to love myself and embrace my flaws.”
“Tell me more,” To your surprise, Sunghoon encourages, his eyes showing keen interest that makes you feel touched in the heart. “I want to know more about what I’ve missed out on in your life.”
You bite down your lip harshly as you avoid his gaze. “You wouldn’t want to hear. It’s boring.”
“On the contrary, I do. I want to get more involved in your life,” Sunghoon prods further, and when you look at him tentatively, you can feel the impenetrable walls you built to protect yourself from him crumbling in the way his eyes soften while a small smile touches his lips. “And it’s never boring when it’s from you. I’d listen to my princess all day.”
Against your better judgement, you cave into the temptation as you begin tell-taling some parts of your journey in Milan, leaving out some details that you still feel uncertain to divulge to him, but nevertheless, he seems to be listening to you attentively without interrupting you, and you even find yourself lifting a small smile in the midst of it.
“So, what about you?” You decide to put the attention on him, partially because you are genuinely curious. “Jaeyun didn’t exactly tell me about you and the others when you were still in Seoul.”
He hums, his face unreadable. “Did he tell you how much he cried over you?” His question sounds rhetorical, and upon seeing your puzzled expression, he begins to divulge. “He cried over you on most nights, especially in his sleep, and he would call out to your name. We often checked in on him in any case he decided to do stupid shit,” He sighs. “I’ve never seen him cry like that in all my life I’ve known him. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him being so heartbroken over someone.”
The revelation renders you stunned as you remain silent, your mind drifting off to Jake. Maybe it should not have come off too surprising to you after witnessing his vulnerability descend on him just two nights ago, but to hear this from Sunghoon makes your heart ache.
Sunghoon observes the expression you wear on your face, noticing your crestfallen eyes. “I’m sure you know how attached he was to you, just as I was,” His voice barely above a whisper near the end as you slowly lift your head to look at him just in time for him to wear a different mask, no longer is there vanity. “But we coped differently, like distracting ourselves with work or even hitting off to the gym.”
The mention of work easily replaces the melancholia with a spark of genuine curiosity. “So what were you working as while you were in Seoul?"
“I was working my way to become a professional architectural drafter,” He answers, leaning back on the cushion comfortably with his arms crossed over his chest. “Back then, I took up the offer Jay’s dad gave me and worked for him even though Jay was more than pissed about it, but I knew I couldn’t squander the offer. I was trained and given the opportunity to acquire hands-on skills that moulded me into someone reliable and competent.”
“So now you’re….?” You pause tentatively, raising your eyebrow at his continuation of your sentence in order to reaffirm.
“Now I’m not only an architectural drafter but also the head of the architecture team.” His lips curl into a smirk while his eyes display emotions that reflect his pride. “I’m working under Jay’s company while concomitantly establishing my business in Milan.”
“That’s actually impressive,” Your genuine compliment not only elevates his pride, but it also renders him bashful as he feels warmth weaving across his cheeks.
“Thank you,” His sincerity shines through his soft utterance of gratitude, and his eyes darken with promises as he gazes intensely into your eyes. “I’ve been working hard ever since, especially when I’m working for the sake of my future with you. I’m doing it all for you.”
Your heart flutters against your will, and you can’t seem to look away from his enchanting gaze. “You shouldn’t do it for me. You should do it for yourself.” You subtly stammer your words.
His eyes hardened with intense resolve. “But I do. I’m doing it for our future.”
You heave a sigh. “I don’t understand. How could you guarantee the possibility of finding me when you told me that you’ve been working hard for our future ever since I left? How were you so certain that I would ever accept you back in my life?”
“I had faith. You made me believe in faith, princess,” The corner of his lips curls into a small smile, his features softening as he reminisces wistfully. “I guess I can also say that I’m the reason for the likelihood of your accurate location. You told me before that you’ve always dreamed of travelling to Milan.”
You can’t help but falter, your eyes softening while your heart pounds harder against your chest at such trivial detail that he regarded it with high value. “You remembered.”
“Of course I do. I still remember your every detail,” His eyes roam around your features meaningfully, and his heart aches as he feels so close yet so far from you. “Just like how your face, your scent, and everything about you had been embedded in my mind.”
Silence envelopes around your table as you allow his words to sink deeply into your mind. You look away from his eyes and clear your throat in hopes of dispelling the tension. “We should go, or else I’ll be late to meet my client.”
Surprisingly, Sunghoon agrees and decides to cease whatever happened. Not moments later, the two of you are at the counter as you are ready to split the bills, but Sunghoon insists on keeping your card.
“I can pay for mine,” You retort vehemently, but your insistence is rendered futile as you watch in defeat when he proceeds to give his black card to the cashier. “Sunghoon.” You sigh, surrendering to his persistence.
Sunghoon merely throws you an annoying yet charming smirk. “What kind of man am I if I allow my woman to pay for anything?”
You silently curse your heart for fluttering once more while you shoot him a scowl. “I’m not your woman.”
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It is nice to know that his obstinacy remains unchanged even a year later, but it highly affects you in your professional element while you are engaged in a discussion that entails the next procedure with your clients. Thankfully, the commotion in the background is minimal with fewer customers in the cafe, but what seems to distract you most is his presence as he sits closely next to you, leaving no gap in between.
Initially, you ordered him to wait in the car, but he stubbornly insisted on accompanying you and declared that he wished to give you moral support with his presence, which you considered unnecessary. Not only does his presence seem to mount the tension only you feel, but you feel the awkwardness as well. What baffles you most is the fact that your two clients do not seem the slightest bothered by the fact that this can be considered unprofessional.
After what feels like a torturous eternity, the meeting has concluded as your satisfied clients proceed to take a generous amount of sips from their frappe drinks, but their eyes keep wandering to Sunghoon, whose eyes are attentively on you.
“Thank you so much for your excellent work for today, Miss Kang. It has been such a pleasure doing business with you.” One of them commends you with a broad, genuine smile as she shakes your hand before her fellow colleague offers the same courtesy to you.
You smile rather gingerly, feeling satisfied that today’s transaction went perfectly smoothly, which tempts you to do your little victory dance, but of course, you maintain decorum. Feigning ignorance to a certain someone seated closely next to you, you fail to notice the way his eyes gleam with amusement as he examines you, looking oddly buoyant.
Your clients exchange words between each other before one of them looks over to Sunghoon briefly and returns her gaze to you with a knowing yet pleasant smile despite the glinting curiosity in her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, Miss Kang. You have always shown excellent consistency in your work, but today is truly exceptional, and we guessed that your boyfriend was the source to offer you support. For that, we thank you both.”
The smile on your lips has never faded as quickly as it is now. “Oh, no. You got it wro─”
“As her boyfriend, it is important for me to accompany her and provide her the moral support in any case she needs.” Sunghoon cuts you off, rendering you flabbergasted at the sensation of his arm snaking around your waist to flush you against him.
Your clients smile pleasantly, oblivious to the tension as you shoot him a glare discreetly while casting him a sweet smile that laces with lethality. “Miss Kang, you are incredibly lucky to have him as your boyfriend.”
“Actually, I’m the lucky one to have such an amazing, hard-working girlfriend who I’m always so proud of.” Sunghoon plants a kiss on your crown, and his gesture of affection causes your clients to gush over while you are rendered speechless with your cheeks warming by his deliberate, infuriating actions that flutter your heart.
It is not long until your clients have finally made their departure. You wrench your way out of Sunghoon’s possessive embrace around your waist before attempting to put a safe distance between you and him, only for you to hit the glass window behind.
“Ow!” You moan out in pain as you clutch the back of your head that is throbbing painfully from the impact due to your hurried movements. You fail to heed the lack of space, and thus, you are closely stuck in between Sunghoon and the glass window.
“So clumsy,” Sunghoon makes a ‘tsk’ sound, prompting you to throw daggers at him with your eyes before you falter just slightly when his hand reaches out to you and cradles the back of your head tenderly before massaging the spot. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had stayed still.”
You scoff in disbelief at his audacity, ignoring the fact that he gives you the butterflies moments prior before this. “So you’re blaming me for being startled by the fact that you put your arm around me after telling lies to my client that you’re my boyfriend?” You fume, giving him no opportunity to retort as you jerk away from his touch, but you are taken aback at his unyielding strength as you cradle the back of your head protectively in a nick of time just when you almost hit the glass window again.
“You should really be careful, princess.” Sunghoon softly chides you, his dark, thick brows furrowing in genuine concern and his eyes penetrating deeply into yours. Your breath hitches in your throat at the close proximity between your faces while you feel your surroundings fade into a blur. “I don’t want my princess getting hurt. What if I’m not there to protect you from your own clumsiness?”
Honestly, his words fall deaf to your ears as you involuntarily focus on his dreamy yet handsome face up close. This must be the effect of getting your head hit. “Boyfriend,” You mutter absentmindedly, earning an eyebrow raised from him. “You’re my boyfriend???”
Sunghoon observes your softened eyes gazing dreamily at him, but nevertheless, he decides to string you along for his entertainment until you snap out of your reverie. A smirk touches his lips, leaning down to your face while his arm slithers around your waist to pull you closer to him. “Yeah, I’m your boyfriend, and you’re my girlfriend, princess.” He hums, his nose tantalisingly grazing against yours.
Oh, it is truly illegal for a man to be this unfairly gorgeous, and a bonus point when he smells good that entices you to snuggle into him with your face buried in his chest. You know that you are so touch-deprived by him that the sensation of his strong arm around your waist renders you weak in the knees as you completely melt against him.
“Sunghoon, you─” You pause as you are slowly being pulled out of your reverie, prompting you to blink your eyes.
“Yeah, my beautiful princess?” His voice is a low husk that sends shivers down your body.
You maintain a collected facade as you curl your fingers into fists before placing them on his solid chest. “Let me go, or I swear I won’t talk to you anymore.” You demand calmly while your eye contact with him never wavers despite the annoying flutters in your chest.
Sunghoon’s smirk deepens, having you flushed against him as he enjoys how agitated you are. “Nahh, I’m quite enjoying this. Being hugged by me is a privilege, so consider yourself the luckiest one since I don’t just hug anyone that isn’t my princess.”
“Sunghoon, I’m not joking around right now.” You say annoyedly, and yet you never attempt to push him away as your body is enjoying being intimately held by him. You release an annoyed huff and look away from him. “I’m mad at you.”
He chuckles softly, finding everything about you rather endearing. “What did I do, princess?”
You gasp in disbelief as you shoot him a glare. "Umm, the act? The whole self-proclaimed boyfriend thing in front of my clients?!” You whisper hotly, trying to keep your tone down a notch as you feel self-conscious due to the bustling patrons in the cafe. “You’re not even my actual boyfriend!”
“Who says I was acting?” His voice sounds deeper, while his face shows no hint of mischief. “I’m your boyfriend, princess. The whole of me is reserved only for you.”
“Park Sunghoon─”
“Do you not want me to be your boyfriend?” He cuts you off, his eyes displaying a rare vulnerability that has you completely faltering. “I’m being honest when I say that I’ve never been into a relationship, but you can trust me to treat you like a princess.”
You don’t respond, and instead, your glazed eyes flicker at his pink lips, needing him to press his lips on yours. You had no plan in falling for him again this soon, let alone to open your heart to him, but his every gesture seems to shatter your resolve piece by piece. You heave a soft sigh as you lower your head. “Let me go, Sunghoon, please.”
Sunghoon decides to relent, even if his heart mourns at the loss of your warmth and how perfectly you fit in his arms. Seeing how crestfallen you are, Sunghoon adorns a soft smile and reaches out to gently pat your head in a commendation, prompting you to slowly lift your head to look at him with questioning eyes.
“Great job for today, and I mean it.” He praises you with firmness while you remain wonderstruck at the stark sincerity on his dreamy face. You feel your heart clenching as he continues to smile at you. “I’m so proud of you, princess.”
Maybe it’s your hormones acting up since your period is coming in a week's time, but to hear someone telling you that they are proud of you touches you deeply in the heart since it has been so long, and to hear it from Sunghoon himself evokes a profound emotional level that springs tears in your eyes.
Sunghoon soothingly rubs your head in a stroking motion, a gesture that has your heart fluttering and clenching while he examines how teary-eyed you become.
“Do you really mean that?” You ask in a whisper, your blurry vision deprives you of seeing the clarity of his countenance. Your heart weeps at the loss of his soothing touch on your head, only to feel surprised when he cups your cheek before he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead.
“I always mean what I say, princess.” He murmurs against your forehead before slowly pulling away to look at your face. His lips curving into a small smile as he sees tears cascading down your cheeks. “Just as I’m always proud of you, and I’ll gladly tell you this every day.”
You let your inhibitions go as you quietly weep. “Thank you, Sunghoon.” You utter sincerely, forgetting any qualms you had for him as you tug at the hem of his jacket. “Can you hug me?”
Sunghoon is more than glad to grant your request, his arms enveloping your body in a loving embrace while you don’t hesitate to bask in his warmth that you used to seek solace in. You flutter your eyes close, feeling safe and comforted in the familiarity of his dependent arms as Sunghoon plants a lingering kiss on your crown.
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The skies are painted in the stunning hues of pink and orange while your evening is draped in a soft glow, and your sudden petulance bearing earlier after you exit the establishment that ensued in him receiving a long agonising silent treatment from you throughout the car ride eventually mollified after you drifted off to a deep slumber that seems to invigorate you.
Sunghoon thinks that you are one enigmatic woman. You’re hot for one moment, and the next, you’re colder than the weather at Antarctica. He is even staggered when you finally utter a few words to him. as soon as you woke up. He has had to hold back his chuckles, finding you endearing in spite of your petulance that is rather adorable in his eyes. It turns out that you actually needed to take a power nap.
As soon as you reach the destination, your eyes widen as you remain cemented to the ground, the sight beholding you renders you wonderstruck. Sunghoon waits for you patiently to recover while also enjoying your reaction a little too much as he feels pleased.
Nonetheless, Sunghoon is confident, as he knows that he made the right choice when his plan involved bringing you to one of the biggest libraries that falls under the category of hidden gems in Milan.
“I’ve always wanted to go to this library,” You finally find your voice as you move forward, your eyes flickering to him before contorting your face into confusion. “But I thought it’d be closed at this time.”
“I rented the entire library only for us and until whenever we wish to leave,” Sunghoon tells you in a dismissive manner, almost as if it is not a big deal to him, whereas you are gobsmacked by this. He merely casts you a lazy smirk before tilting his head in a beckoning gesture, inviting you to explore the wonders of this hidden gem. “Let’s go, princess.”
“Wait, you rented? That must’ve cost a lot of money!” You exclaim exasperatedly, distracting yourself from the way your heart is beating in a familiar yet fluttering cadence, knowing that you are so dangerously tempted to cave into your yearning in the depths of your heart. “You shouldn’t have.” You say, your lips pulling down into a frown.
“Money has never been an issue for me; you should already know this.” Sunghoon provides you reassurance upon understanding the worries in your dim eyes, and unbeknownst to him, his genuine smile that causes his dimples to appear in his cheeks sends more fluttery to you. “Don’t feel bad, princess. I wanted to do this. Besides, you said it yourself that you’ve always wanted to go here.”
After being convinced by his assurances, you let your inhibitions go, venturing further into the enchanting wonders of the quaint library that looks magnificent with its opulence and details embellished sublimely on every part that gives off antiquated vibes. You have had to crane your neck to look up and examine the length of the bookshelves that reach to the high ceiling.
All the while you are preoccupied in your own little exploration, Sunghoon follows you from behind at a leisurely pace, watching you with a small smile on his lips. It does not matter that being in a library bores the fuck out of him, but seeing you in your element while your countenance displays such radiance of happiness is worth it.
“Everything here is absolutely divine,” You mutter to yourself, blissfully unaware of his presence in your vicinity. Your fingertips trailing across the spine of the books arrayed on the shelf that is at your eye level, hypnotising him with how delicate you are moving. “This is a different type of heaven for me.”
“I could bring you to another heaven, maybe even a better one,” You nearly jolt in surprise upon hearing his voice from behind you, prompting you to turn around, only to be startled by the close proximity. He smirks down at you as he lazily leans sideways against the shelf with his arms crossed over his chest. “You know, one that involves you rolling your eyes to the back out of pleasure─”
“Okay, enough,” You cut him off abrasively, your cheeks flaring at his salacious remarks. Your glare doesn’t deter him in the slightest. “It isn’t funny.”
“Seeing you flustered is,” The sound of his chuckles brings you more warmth than intended. He watches you in complete amusement as you pivot on your heels to trudge forward, clearly wanting to be away from him, but he follows you, as if something so magnetic lures him to you.
You try your utmost to ignore his patent presence from behind you as you grab one of the books to feign immersion in the reading while you flip through the pages rather aggressively, but upon feeling his body warmth, you release a huff before forcing yourself to look at him with exasperation. “Are you not bored of having to follow me around and watch me read through these books?”
“I could watch you read all day, princess,” Sunghoon adorns a boyish grin on his face, but as you look closely, it almost seems like he is lovesick in the way he gazes at you so fondly. “It’s nice to know that your love for books and libraries is unchanged.”
“What about you? Do you still hate them?” You inquire curtly as you return the book to its original shelf, hating how he is making you feel, be it intentionally or unintentionally.
“So fucking much. I don’t understand why you love reading.”
You turn around with your arms crossed below your chest, your eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Then why bother renting the entire library if you hate it?”
“I did it for you, because I know you loved libraries, like the one back in our old palace,” He states, his voice softening with nostalgia that seems to make your heart pounds louder and louder in your ears. “You loved books and the smell of books. You loved to skim through the pages and the summary of the book before deciding whether or not it piques your interest with the expression on your face. You loved spending hours in the library, because you’d rather waste your time on reading than on the wrong people,” A wistful smile touches his lips. “It’s nice to know that these little habits of yours haven’t changed.”
You blink your eyes at him before looking away from him, refusing to allow him a glimpse of an emotion you nearly show by the glisten in your eyes. “Let’s not get too carried away and ruin the mood.”
“You have no idea, do you?” His voice barely above a whisper, but what suspends your avoidance from him is the blues of despondency in his eyes. “The real reason for this date.”
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” You say curtly, and you can feel your once-steely resolve melting as you fight hard to deny the reality that has been bared in front of you since the moment he arrived at your doorstep. “Or maybe I don’t want to be confronted by the truth just yet. I don’t want to ruin this date no matter what ulterior motives you had planned.”
“You’re not ruining anything, you’ve never had,” There is a palpable tremor in his voice, despite his collected facade. He steps closer to you, his eyes never straying from yours. “I was the one who ruined things.”
Your eyebrows softly knit together in perplexity. “Sunghoon─”
“No, you need to listen, princess. I can’t let you go on without hearing my side of the story,” He cuts you off as gently as he can while there is an undercurrent of urgency in his tone. “It was all my fault.”
“What do you mean?” You ask, your face contorting into confusion.
“The whole incident a year ago, it was my fault,” He begins to unravel what he kept to himself for so long. His eyes turn crestfallen as he slowly lowers his gaze. “The night at that yacht party, I intended to delete those pictures and videos, but I was a fool for not being cautious enough when I left my phone on the vanity table. Some fucker, and I think you know who, took my phone and probably airdropped them on his phone.”
A muscle pulses in his jaw as the recollection haunts him in his mind once more. “I should’ve locked the door. I should’ve been more careful. I hated myself for what happened. Maybe if I hadn’t left my phone there, then you wouldn’t have suffered.”
You remain silent, uncertain what to say, while your silence seems to render him defeated as he daringly lifts his head up to meet your unreadable gaze. “If you must direct your hatred and anger, it should be me, not my best friends.”
“It happened anyway, Sunghoon,” You say bitterly, blinking your eyes as you feel them glistening with dangerous emotions that might be released in rivulets. Honestly, you have no idea what to feel, because truthfully, you have moved on from that horrible part of your past, but to hear his side of the story seems to move you to see a different perspective.
“And I regret it every single day,” The way he accentuates his regret in a patent sincerity offers you more clarity than you sought, as does the way he looks at you with utter devastation. “But I regret letting you go the most without telling you the truth of my feelings for you. No, I wouldn’t have let you go if I had known that you intended to leave us.”
A scoff leaves your lips. “Regret? No, you didn’t. You hated me, Hoon. Remember? You told me yourself once,” Your wavering tone denotes such hurt as you recall the very beginning of your encounter with him. “You hated me and my guts in the beginning. You held grudges against me, even when I didn’t do anything wrong towards you. You fucked me like you hated me, and it was worst when I actually loved the pain of it all,” Your lips tremble in sadness while your eyes glisten with tears, unable to read the expression on his face through the blurry vision. “I threw away my dignity and morals for you and your best friends, all because I actually caught feelings for you and wanted to be close to you.”
“I know, and I was a fucking asshole. I shouldn’t have held grudges against you for the wrong, petty reasons,” He curls his fingers to form a fist, refraining himself from touching you because he knows he doesn’t deserve to touch you in a way he yearned for. “You were an angel. You were good. Too good for this fucked-up world. You did nothing wrong towards me. It was all on me.”
You swallow a painful lump in your throat, your voice thickening with a cocktail of emotions. “You were mean to me, Hoon.” You remind him again, wanting him to feel just as hurtful as you were by recalling those memories.
“I know,” His eyes glisten with such hurt despite no tears, and his voice is laden with penitence while there is a discernible crack. “God, I wish I didn’t hurt you and be the reason you left. I was so fucking miserable after we discovered from Jungwon and the others that you left. We all were. None of us were in our right mind.”
Your ego overshadows your sensibility as you look away from him. “I find that hard to believe. You turned out just fine.”
“Then you’ve been deceived, princess. When you left, it felt like someone tore my heart out of my chest. I’ve never felt pain like that before, but I know I deserved that." A movement from him is enough to capture your attention, and your eyes widen at the sight beholding you while you are rendered thunderstruck. Park Sunghoon, the guy you once knew with one of the biggest egos and prided himself too much, is on his knees with his head hanging low.
You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out as you are unable to articulate your feelings that are in a tumult within you. You can see it in his body language, despite the defeat, this hurts his pride too much, but you don’t understand why he chooses to do so.
“Falling for you was my mistake. If I had known what I got myself into the moment I began to develop feelings beyond platonic for you, then I wouldn’t have fallen into deep,” You manage to find your voice, and this time, you utter it through soft weeping as you allow tears to escape your eyes. “I hate that you were my beautiful mistake, Sunghoon.”
His heart feels like something is stomping all over by the clarity in your declaration. “I’m willing to do anything if it means getting you to fall in love with me again,” He says shakily, slowly lifting his head up to allow you to see his sincerity and determination. “Just say the word, princess. You want me on my knees and crawl towards you? You want me to kiss your feet? I’ll do it. I’ll do them all, but please don’t tell me to stop grovelling for your forgiveness, because I won’t.”
“Sunghoon,” You choke back a sob, feeling a torrent of emotions crashing down on you while tears are unrelentingly cascading down your cheeks.
“I’m willing to wait for your forgiveness, no matter how long it takes, just like how I’m willing to wait for you to love me again,” His voice sounds thick with emotions that are threatening to implode while tears prickle in his eyes. “I’ll wait for your love, princess. I’ll always wait.”
“Tell me that you love me,” You plead in a soft cry, throwing away your inhibition while your once-steely resolve is liquified. “Tell me that you’re in love with me. Tell me what I want to hear.”
“I love you, Y/N Kang,” His declaration of his love for you is punctuated by stark sincerity and affection in his tone that overwhelms you. “I’m so fucking in love with you that it drives me crazy. I’ve always been in love with you, even when I was a denial asshole. No one can ever make my heart beat the way it beats for you. Nobody compares to you, princess,” A teardrop slides down his cheek. “I don’t care that you hate me, but I’m begging you, please allow me to love you.”
“I do hate you for making me fall in love with you over and over.” You admit through soft sobs, taking slow, tentative steps towards him. “I hate you for being the reason why my heart refused to look for anyone else that wasn’t you. I hate that I still love you after all this time when I should’ve moved on.”
“Please don’t ever move on. I promise I’ll be a better man for you,” He pauses, swallowing a lump in his throat as he looks up at you with glassy eyes. “Princess, can I hug you?” He asks weakly, nearly whimpering.
As soon as you nod your head, he slowly wraps his arm around your waist and buries his head just below your chest level, hugging you tightly while there is a raw intimacy enveloping you. You cradle the back of his head with a touch of affection before reciprocating the hug as you embrace him with your warmth.
“I love you so fucking much, Y/N,” Filled with such desperation, he clings onto you as though you are his only salvation. “No one has ever made me feel weak until you.”
“I love you too, Park Sunghoon,” You whisper thickly, refraining yourself from weeping again. You dip your head to plant a kiss on his head while you caress his trembling back in loving strokes. “I forgive you, so please stand.”
With a shaky breath, Sunghoon complies, lifting himself at ease as he finally towers over your figure. He musters courage to meet your eyes despite feeling puffiness around his eyes, and his heart only pounds harder as he mentally prepares himself for what is next.
“I don’t want my actions to make you doubt my love for you ever again, and I never want you to question how much I truly love you,” Nervousness is evident in the way he speaks, despite the veil of confidence he adorns on his countenance.
Confusion swirls in your eyes amidst the speckles of curiosity as you watch him removing his leather jacket and allowing it to drop on the floor, all the while his eyes never leaving yours, causing your cheeks to flare under the palpable intensity of his gaze. Your eyes trail down to his fingers that are clutching the hems of his black shirt.
“Sunghoon, what are you─” You are rendered speechless, flabbergasted even, as he pulls up his shirt and removes it in one swift motion, leaving his fine glory on display for your eyes to feast appreciatively upon while your cheeks feel gradually warmer.
His toned muscles are a testament to his diligent work that has evidently paid off, and honestly, he looks more ripped than you last recall, as if he had indeed spent most of his hours at the gym. The rose tattoo on his hip sends you a wave of familiarity, recalling the times when you would admire his tattoo as you traced your fingers on his skin. The veins protruding on his arms and the imposing sight of his v-line on the lower region nearly has you foaming in the mouth, but you immediately retain your decorum, though your arousal remains in its wake within you.
If you are being frank, you genuinely desire to pounce on him and claim every inch of him as yours. You dismiss your depravity that remains lusting over him as you return your gaze to his face, noticing that he has been observing you with a faint smirk on his pink lips.
Without a word, Sunghoon slowly turns around, allowing you a full view of his toned back, but what renders you thunderstruck with your eyes widening is the sight of a new tattoo across on his shoulder blades being proudly displayed in a fancy font that is readable.
At this rate, your pulse feels like a sledgehammer, matching the way your heart thunders as you read the wordings in a breathy utterance. “Property of Y/N,” You marvel at his devotion for you, which he willingly inked on his own precious skin. “When did you get it?”
“A few weeks after you left,” He says succinctly, sounding breathless while his body goes taut by the sensation of your fingertips on his skin, tracing along the tattoo design. “I already knew that I held you close to my heart, but I wanted your mark to be permanently inked on my skin, just like how you left a permanent mark in my heart.”
“But why ‘Property of Y/N’?” You ask, your voice trembling with emotions that threaten to sweep you away while tears prickle your eyes as you watch him turning around to face you.
His eyes seem to be searching for something in yours in spite of the accumulating tears in your waterline. “Because you own the whole of me, you’ve always had." His voice sounds gradually deeper with each step he takes towards you, amplifying the palpable tension between you and him.
You remain rooted to the ground despite your heart pounding harder as he closes the gap, and it nearly lurches in your chest when he dips his head down to lean his forehead against yours. “I’m yours, princess,” He whispers, his fingers gently wiping away a fallen teardrop sliding down your cheek while his dark eyes never stray from your glistening ones. “I’m yours forever. Even if someday you don’t love me anymore, I’ll still love you, always and forever.”
Like a broken dam, the torrent of emotions breaks free from your resistance, bringing forth more tears to cascade down your cheeks as you weep softly, but you don’t look away from his dark eyes that threaten to consume you whole, swirling with a cocktail of emotions and desires.
“I want to kiss you so bad,” The unmistakable yearning in his voice resonates in the depths of your beating heart, and his touch on your skin as he cradles your face feels scorching, igniting a spark of fervent desire for him.
With a single head nod from you, Sunghoon captures your lips with his, kissing you softly with reverence, but gradually, there is a sense of urgency, one that reflects the hunger from his innermost ravenous desire for you. With one hand cradling your face, the other slithers around your waist, pulling you closer to his body heat possessively.
Without breaking the fervent lip-lock, he backs you up until you hit the shelf behind you, as he has you locked in place. Your hands go winding in his hair as you tilt your head to the perfect angle for him to deepen the kiss. His tongue caresses your lips, a silent permission he seeks to explore every inch of you, to which you part your lips for him to thrust his tongue into your hot cavern.
You sigh pleasurably into his mouth, your breath mingling with his while he continues to ravage you with his tongue. You moan deeply as his tongue dances with yours in familiar yet intimate tango, while the sound from you travels deep to his cock beneath the confines.
He pulls away just slightly to sink his fang-like teeth into the plush of your bottom lip, tugging it gently and savouring the taste of your lip. The corner of his lips curves faintly into a smirk as you whine softly before he relents, only for you to be taken aback by his lips sealing you into a bruising kiss, as though he has released the remnants of his inhibitions.
“I’ve missed you so much, princess,” He rasps against your parted lips, his warm breath fanning your upper lip as he allows you a moment of respite from the feverish kiss. He watches as you slowly flutter your eyelids open, your eyes misting with lust and longing that mirror his, but there is a certain darkness that evinces a familiar depravity as he desires to consume you. His lips ghost yours. “I want you so fucking bad, you have no idea.”
“Then take me,” You utter softly, your voice laden with equal desire as his. Your hands fall to his nape, relishing his warmth beneath your touch. You tilt your head up to purposefully bump your nose against his with your lips dangerously close to his. “What are you waiting for? Take me, hoon. Touch me, love me like you do.”
As soon as those words leave your lips, Sunghoon reclaims your lips, kissing you with an unbridled yearning that has all thoughts and worries faded into insignificance from your mind. Just him and him alone matter at this moment.
His hands slide down to your thighs, gripping the flesh with his fingers, a silent command you comply to as you instinctively jump with his assistance, prompting you to encircle your legs around his waist before he manoeuvres you over to the table without breaking the heated kiss.
The force of his ravenous kiss nearly sends you falling back, but you plant your palm on the surface of the mahogany table for stability. Pulling away from your swollen lips, he ignites a scorching path on your skin as he maps his kisses and licks down your neck.
The heat pooling in your core dangerously renders you impatient as you become unbearably needy for him to claim you deeply. “Hoonie, I need you,” You utter breathlessly, nearly whimpering, while your hands haphazardly roam around the waistband of his Calvin Klein briefs.
“I know. I got you, princess,” He whispers, pressing a sensual kiss on the sensitive spot of your neck before pulling away to unzip his pants, all the while without breaking the heated eye contact with you. As his pants finally fall to the ground, your eyes trail down to his fine glory until they stop at the prominent bulge that looks borderline erected against his briefs. The carnal lust in your ravenous gaze sends shivers through him as he pulls down his brief, freeing his painfully erect cock. “Your turn, princess.”
His deep, husky voice goes straight into your heated core before you obediently comply with his command, standing on your feet to strip yourself, starting from the bottom. Your skirt falls to the floor, followed by your lace underwear that has a small wet patch from your arousal.
Just before you can unbutton your blouse, Sunghoon intercepts with his lips crashing onto yours while you gasp from the impact that causes you to hit the edge of the table behind you. He is practically ravenous, kissing you as if it is his last, as he multitasks with his hands to manoeuvre you on top of the table.
“Are you wet enough?” He murmurs against your lips, his fingers descending to your lower region until they reach the destination that awaits him feverishly. As his fingers accidentally strum on your aching clit, a soft moan leaves your lips that goes straight into his cock. His two fingers begin to inspect your folds that are slick with your arousal before thrusting them into your cunt for good measures. “You’re so wet, princess.”
You nod your head mindlessly, only focusing on the sensation of his fingers thrusting into you with steady momentum. Your eyes flicker to his enamoured ones, and your cheeks go warm under the intensity of his gaze. “Hoonie, please fuck me,” You whine, moving your hips to meet his thrusts, which eventually cease.
“No, princess. I’m not just gonna fuck you,” He looks down and grabs his shaft to aim the bulbous head directly at your clit before pressing onto it, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. Your needy whines bring a small smile to his lips as he continues to slide his cock in between your folds before aligning his cock to your sopping entrance. “I’m gonna love you hard, just like you said so. To love you like I do.”
With that, Sunghoon pushes forward, his cock breaching your entry with little resistance owing to your slicks of arousal that serve as a lubricant. You gasp as your hand immediately latches onto his bicep, feeling the expansion of your walls as they accommodate his girth.
“Fuck, princess. Your tightness never ceases to amaze me,” His husky voice is laden with lust that is borderline carnal, sending shivers down your spine. Still pushing himself deeper into your quivering cunt, he looks up at you, his eyes softening just slightly before he leans forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips. “You never cease to amaze me.”
Sunghoon groans deeply, feeling his cock reaching its destination as it finally nestles deep inside of you. Gripping your hips to seize control, he begins to thrust into you, setting a pace that makes you feel like you’re on cloud nine. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through you while the sound of your moans mingle with the slaps of skin-on-skin that echoes in this part of the library.
You slowly wrap your legs around his waistline, desiring to feel his cock deeply while his bicep muscle beneath your touch flexes as he asserts dominance over your body. His dark ravenous eyes drink in the sight of you throwing your head to the back as you drown yourself in the pure ecstasy, your moans attesting to it.
“Right there, Hoon,” You moan in satisfaction as he hits the spot deliciously with how deliberately precise each thrust he delivers, and yet he seems to be savouring with how slow yet impactful enough to leave you breathless each time as you arch your back like a cat.
“Yeah? Right here? That’s your spot, princess?” He rasps, his voice sounding strained, almost as if he is holding himself back while there is an unmistakable affection in his tone. He repeats his action, withdrawing himself until the head remains in between your folds before ramming his cock into your cunt, causing the table beneath you to creak and groan under the force of your shared fervour.
You slide your arms underneath his armpits to hook them around his shoulders, wanting him closer to you before you chase for his lips and kiss him hard. He growls into the kiss as your pulsating cunt clenches around him, sending shivers through your body that is pulsating with ceaseless pleasure before he proceeds to carry you elsewhere.
You whine softly into the kiss as he halts his thrust, only for him to resume as soon as he pins you against the shelf without allowing you to stand on your own, still supporting you from below with his strength. With how hard he is fucking into you, you swear you can feel the shelf behind quakes.
“I wanna be buried inside you forever, princess,” He murmurs against your lips before pulling away and focusing on bringing you to another heaven that awaits you. His biceps muscles flex as he lifts you a little higher while your arms go hooking around his neck to stabilise yourself. “Wanna make love to you every day like this, reminding you that you own every inch of me.” He grunts, driving himself deeper, which has you seeing stars.
You can only moan in response, any coherency dissipates at this perfect moment with you wrapped around him. The air is thick with a heady mix of sweat, lust, and love that is palpable amidst the fiery passion. The sensual symphony is accompanied by your moans and his bated breaths that reverberate throughout the library.
You throw your head to the back, allowing your bare neck to be enticingly present in his eyes. Unable to resist the temptation, he leans in and presses his lips on your neck without relenting his thrusts that gradually turn vigorous, causing your whole body to jiggle. More moans tumble past your lips as you roll your eyes to the back in pure bliss, feeling the pleasurable sensation of his teeth sinking into your skin that will evidently leave a mark.
Without pulling away from your neck, his thrusts become erratic, fucking into you that sends you into another state of euphoria, and you know he has reached his climax as he moans deeply into your neck. “I’m─ fuck─ I’m gonna cum, princess,” Sunghoon nearly growls out, his nails sinking into the flesh of your bums while you can feel his cock hitting the spot deliciously without missing a beat.
“Hoon,” You manage to utter between broken moans, tears pricking in your eyes as he pounds into you with the fervent intention to drive you both to the brink of ecstasy while you can feel your impending climax reaching its peak. “Please kiss me.”
Sunghoon complies, crashing his lips onto yours in a feverish kiss while sparks fly around you. “I love you,” He murmurs in between the kisses, and your heart swells at the declaration of love so raw in the yearning of his voice. “I love you so, so much, Y/N Kang.”
“I─” Your words clog in your throat as you reach the crescendo of your impending release that matches his, causing your cunt to spasm around him as you tumble over the edge. You scream his name as your orgasm crashes through you like tidal waves while he delivers one last thrust with a growl before burying himself deeply as he fills you to the brim.
As the last of ecstasy echoes in the air, he remains buried in you while the union of your fluids slowly leaks from your sexes as they eventually stain the wooden floor. Your ragged breaths mingle with his as you bask in the blissful afterglow while he continues to hold you up in the air. When your eyes slowly flicker to his, your heart flutters at the intensity of his gaze with a fiery desire palpable.
You cup his cheeks and lean your forehead against his, smiling softly amidst catching your breath. “I love you too, Park Sunghoon,” You utter breathlessly before attempting to kiss him, but he startles you when he proceeds to carry you elsewhere. “Sunghoon─?”
Sunghoon carefully settles you down on the couch that is thankfully spacious enough. Your breath hitches in your throat upon seeing how his eyes darken with carnal lust as he hovers on top of you. The sensation of his cock dragging along your slick walls elicits a soft moan from you before you whimper at the sensitivity as it strikes you.
“I’m gonna keep loving you, princess. Fill you up and put a baby in you,” He says in between bated breaths, his biceps muscles flexing as he plants both hands next to your head. His dark eyes penetrating into yours hold dark promises despite the love and lust. “Never gonna let you leave again, not when you’re carrying my baby.”
The thought of having his babies heightens your desire, prompting you to buck your hips up to meet his thrusts. “Please,” You whimper, needing him to obliterate your cunt like he used to. “Love me harder.”
Sunghoon does, proving his love and devotion to you by bringing you to a new state of ecstasy that feels exhilarating over and over, leaving no spot in the library untouched that has been stained by your passionate love-making.
The gloomy weather brings forth a bleak atmosphere throughout his imposing, minimalist office, enveloping him with a familiar comfort he often seeks solace in after a long monotonous and hectic day as someone who bears responsibilities that are heavier than they seem. The rhythmic sound of rain pelting against the floor-to-ceiling windows across the vast expanse of his office fills his ears as he remains motionless, resting on the couch that is situated in the centre with one arm draping over his eyes.
Jay ignores his phone that has been buzzing incessantly on the main desk, completely unbothered since it is past office hours and most of his employees in the building have already clocked out of their shifts. He needs some time alone to put his mind at ease after all the work that took mental exertion on him.
Being a managing director was never on his bucket list, but being the only son and heir, Jay knew that he could never escape the inevitable, which he deemed a heavy burden. Truth be told, he had no idea what he wanted to pursue after graduation, but he desired to travel around the world and enjoy what life had to offer without any restriction. He should have known better that it was merely a pipe dream to someone like him, whose whole life had been dictated by his parents, and most especially his father.
As Jay recalls a certain memory not too long ago, a scoff leaves his lips. Initially, when Jay divulged to his parents about moving abroad without disclosing his real intent, his mother vehemently opposed, but his ever-callous father surprisingly allowed, only if Jay fulfilled his duty as the heir, and with the perfect timing, his duty call was coincidentally at the very city he intended to go.
Thankfully, Jay was more than ready to oversee his father’s established business in Milan, as shown by his remarkable performance throughout the period of him working and honing his skills, which moulded him into the notable director he is now, whom every one of his employees looks up to out of both fear and reverence, despite being conferred the position three months ago.
Jay also recalls how there were moments when he would get along with his father in regards to business, but he knew that it was merely out of necessity since his father was required to be part of his guidance, not that Jay was saddened or anything. He more than recognises that they could never have the normal father-son relationship he used to yearn for.
But then again, that yearning his younger self once possessed is unparalleled to the yearning instilled in his heart that perennially bleeds and beats for you, even when he thought all hopes in finding you were lost.
Just like his best friends, Jay was not himself, but remarkably, he managed to hide it well, most especially from his father since he knew he could not afford to lose his focal point on business matters, not when at that point in time, all he had was working and building his way up the corporate ladder.
Jay grieved for you every night, even on nights where he chose to spend them in his temporary office at the main corporate building, because sleeping in his own bed at the palace only seemed to hurt him deeply as he could smell your faint scent on the bedding while his mind would drift off to how he used to spooned you as you slept soundly in his arms.
Instead of unleashing the tempest of wrath that was once ingrained in him, Jay felt entirely numb with agonising pain and chose to cope with the loss of your presence in his life by drinking and smoking excessively that even Heeseung grew concerned for his health. It was not as if Jay intended to, not when he had no desire to become like his alcoholic father, but those methods were more efficient for him to drown out his thoughts and feelings he harboured for you.
What a fool he was, because no matter how many bottles he drank or sticks he smoked, he could not erase the permanent mark you left in his tainted heart. He could never forget you. How could he ever forget the woman who managed to make him feel deeply? How could he ever forget his first love?
Before meeting you, Jay has never had a crush on anyone, even when the girls surrounding him were equally stunning, simply because he could not be bothered to be involved in such useless pursuit that wastes his valuable time. He also found the possibility of him developing feelings that evolve into love simply absurd, as he did not believe that he was a man incapable of love until you.
Yes, it started out as an infatuation, especially when he chose to torment you for a short period of time for pure entertainment, but as the times he spent with you, he grew fond of you and knew that his obsession stemmed from the love he had for you despite not knowing what love truly was.
The only and most regrettable thing was him acknowledging to you about the fact that he had fallen deep and that he desired to spend a lifetime with you. There was not a single day where he did not dwell in regret for his past sins towards you. He loathed his actions, including how he treated you horribly in the beginning. Even worse when he allowed you to slip away from his grasp in just a blink of an eye.
A muscle pulses in his jaw as he recalls your words the last time he saw you. The way you looked at him and in the tone you spoke to them haunted him in his sleep. He knows that he has to grovel to earn your forgiveness and win your affection back, but right now, he has no idea when is the appropriate time for him to embark on his pursuit, especially when two of his best friends seem to have kept you occupied.
As if on cue, the door of his office swings open, revealing the very two people who had just intruded his thoughts as they come barging into his office. Jay remains unmoving, even as their approaching footsteps get louder in his ears.
“We were wondering what kept you in the office too long. We thought you decided to work overtime again,” Sunghoon voices out his thoughts as he stands near the couch alongside Jake, towering over Jay’s unperturbed figure.
“Are you sleeping?” Jake asks, staring down at his best friend with a bewildered expression.
“No. I’m meditating, and you guys are disrupting my peace,” Jay states flatly, his voice devoid of amusement. Sighing, he lifts his arm away from his eyes as he pries them open to look at them. “Barging into my office without knocking on the door. Tsk. It looks like spending more time away from work than you should makes you lack etiquette.”
Sunghoon and Jake exchange knowing looks with faint smirks playing on their lips, earning a suspicion glare from Jay as he slowly lifts his upper body from the couch. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just that we’re sensing something in your tone,” Sunghoon rubs his chin thoughtfully, but even Jay recognises that his best friend is mocking him. “Maybe it’s jealousy?”
“Why would I sound jealous?” Jay snaps, his patience wearing thin while he can feel the jealousy growing within him, but his ego refuses to admit it to them.
“Oh, you know, because we got to spend time with Y/N ever since she accepted us back,” Jake seems to taunt him as the smirk on his lips stretches wider almost so cunningly. “You should try it sometimes. Grovelling, I mean.”
“You guys are insufferable. If you’re here to taunt me by rubbing your success in my face, then get the fuck out of my office,” Jay shoots him a scowl, resisting the temptation to punch the smirks on their faces.
“We were just helping you by pushing you to get to work,” Sunghoon says defensively as Jay coldly brushes past them to get to the main desk. “We gave you time and opportunity for you to make things right with Y/N yesterday, but no, you had to delay.”
“And need I remind you who was the biggest arsehole between us? Most especially towards Y/N in the beginning.” Jake asks rhetorically in a sardonic tone.
“First of all, I was busy with numerous meetings because we’re running tight on the deadline of our big project, and don’t forget that you’re involved in the said project,” Jay retorts at Sunghoon before directing his glare at Jake. “Secondly, I wasn’t the one who made Y/N cry first, unlike you, who decided to become the first arsehole by making her jealous, remember?”
Instead of retaliating like Jay expected, Jake simply shrugs his shoulders, completely undeterred. “All is well and forgiven now, but I don’t know about you, though. I wonder if Y/N will forgive you by the time you decide to grovel a little too late.”
“It would work in our favour if she doesn’t,” Sunghoon smirks cruelly as he playfully bumps his shoulder against Jake’s, adding to the fire that is simmering within Jay from their provocation. “The less competition there is, the better.”
“It isn’t a fucking competition,” Jay clenches his jaw, his steely eyes burning straight into them, and it is so infuriating that they are not in the slightest deterred by the obvious path of his wrath they are at. “We agreed, a year ago, that it was only fair if we shared her.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Jake raises his eyebrow at him with an expectant glint in his eye. “You may have all the time in the world, but Y/N might not wait on you anymore─”
“She’s waiting on me?” Jay cuts him off, his once-seething wrath towards them wanes while his steely eyes soften at the thought of you.
“She didn’t exactly let us know, but we know that she is. There is no doubt that she is still waiting on both you and Heeseung,” Sunghoon tells him, observing his wintry facade that slowly melts. “Yes, being late is better than never, but don’t you think that she has waited long enough to hear our apologies?”
Jay’s silence is prevailing as they examine the emotions that leak through the cracks of his wintry facade. Jake sighs softly, tucking his hand into his pocket. “Y/N deserves better, Jay, you know that. So prove to her that you deserve to have her.”
Jay finally snaps out of his rumination as he lifts his head up to look at them with a faint smirk on his lips. “Look at you two. I never knew you could be this wise. Y/N must’ve been the reason for your wisdom.”
“You’re right,” Sunghoon admits, lifting a small smile at the thought of you. His eyes harden with encouragement as they penetrate into Jay’s. “So you better get your ass moving soon or Jake and I will be the only privileged ones to have Y/N as our girlfriend.”
Instead of responding, Jay grabs his phone from the table and his coat that was draped over his swivel leather chair before striding towards the door, leaving behind curious yet puzzled Jake and Sunghoon. “Where are you going?” Jake asks as soon as Jay swings the door open.
“Somewhere,” Jay answers vaguely, his tone sounding uncertain, but deep inside, he knows that he needs to see you, even if a part of him feels ambivalent about showing his face to you after recalling your words that struck him deeply.
On his way to the elevator, his eyes flicker to his secretary, surprised to see her still at her station, and an idea pops in his mind before Jay decides to call for her. “Cancel any of my plans for the next two days. I won’t be coming to the office.”
All the while, Jake and Sunghoon observe him from afar, feeling pleased as they fist bump each other without tearing their gaze off of their best friend.
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A pleasant fragrance from a distinct scented candle pervades his senses as it rouses him from his slumber, but his head begins to pound unpleasantly, forming a headache while his face contorts into a grimace. His throat feels parched, as though he has been dehydrated for over a day.
Jay pries his heavy eyelids open, only to be greeted at the oddly familiar ceiling that looks different than the ceiling in their penthouse. He feels a weight on top of his body before looking down at the white duvet that had tucked him throughout the night nicely and noticing that he had fallen asleep on the couch.
Jay allows his head to fall back onto the comfortable pillow that nearly tempts him to resume his dreamless slumber while his mind is in a tumult of confusion amidst the incessant headache, wondering how the hell did he end up here out of all the places.
Jay rubs his tired face, hoping that he did not do anything foolish or embarrassing as the recollection of whatever happened yesterday is still in fragments. His heart nearly lurches in his chest when he hears you clearing your throat, prompting him to raise his upper body to sit. He briefly looks down and sees that he is still in his work attire.
“You’re up early, for someone who went completely wasted,” You state tersely, avoiding his gaze as you put down a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him. “Here. You probably need it.”
Instead of hydrating himself, Jay continues to look at you as though you are unreal. “How did I end up here? What happened last night?” His husky voice sounds grating and sends you oddly pleasurable chills through your body.
You muster courage to look at him without giving away the fact that you are actually melting on the inside at how sinfully good he looks with his white top being unbuttoned, allowing his toned chest to be visible in your eyes.
“You don’t remember?” You ask in disbelief, your frown deepening at the genuine confusion plastered on his face, eliciting a sigh from you. “You showed up, drunk, at my doorstep last night, and then you nearly passed out on me, so I had no choice but to bring you into my apartment. Now, does that jog your memory?”
“I don’t know. I can’t even think straight because my head hurts,” Jay mutters, furrowing his eyebrows in discomfort, but even then his eyes continue to roam around you as he notices how dressed up you look, being adorned in a short pleated milkmaid dress with ditsy floral print all over.
“You shouldn’t have drunk too much.” You reprimand him, feeling your cheeks warm at his invasive yet hungry eyes raking all over you.
Jay swallows down a glob of spit to moisturise his extremely parched throat as he slowly returns to meet your gaze. “Where are you going?”
“To the airport. Karina and Wonyoung will be flying back to Seoul today, so can you please hurry and freshen yourself up? I’m going to be running late,” You tell him, your tone denoting your impatience. “You can take a shower in my bathroom. I’ve already placed a set of new clothes for you on my bed if you feel uncomfortable wearing back your work attire.”
“You have clothes that fit me?” He asks, curiosity laces with amusement in his tone.
“They’re Jaeyun’s. Don’t take too long, or I’ll have to actually lock you in my apartment,” You ramble with your words as you avoid his gaze, uncertain of what expression he wears before you decide to head to the kitchen, whereas Jay promptly heads to your bedroom.
It is not long until Jay finally steps inside your bathroom. As he turns to look in the mirror, he notices the puffiness around his eyes, and that is when those fragments of last night’s recollection coalesce into one, eliciting a groan from him as it replays in his head.
--------
Instead of heading back to their penthouse, Jay drove to your street right after buying a bottle of whiskey. He was indecisive ever since he left the corporate building. A part of him desired to see you, but another part held him back, fearing that it would be too soon despite his best friends’ encouragement and support earlier.
Hence, Jay found himself loitering outside of your apartment building with the bottle of whisky in his grasp. Feeling his body gradually getting warmer, which stemmed from his frustration, he unbuttoned the top of his white blouse before taking a swig of the whisky as it burned his throat. His plan might seem witless, but he wanted to see if the effect of alcohol would spur him into finally taking action as well as elevating his self-confidence.
It turned out to be a mistake because he did not foresee himself getting wholly inebriated just by one bottle of whisky when he used to have a high tolerance for alcohol, but perhaps the alcohol in his system interflowed with the web of emotions he had always struggled to subdue was far too strong for him to think and act rationally.
Thus, in spite of his lack of confidence, Jay was spurred by the heavy influence of alcohol and soon found himself right at your doorstep, pressing on the doorbell with zero hesitation. As he waited for you, his head hung low while his palm was planted on the wall next to the door to support his body as he felt his consciousness teetering at the edge.
Jay did not expect you to open the door since the time struck midnight, but when you did, he felt like he could die happily to see your beautiful face up close again. Despite his pounding head being foggy, he could vividly see your face contorting into genuine shock, followed by confusion with a hint of vexation.
His heart broke upon seeing your eyes harden as you stared at him like he was a mere stranger. “It’s midnight, Jay. What are you even doing here─”
“You’re hurting my feelings, baby,” He rasps, his voice sounding strained, almost like he was going through mental anguish. “But I guess I deserved the treatment from you.”
All the while, you scrutinised him and recognised that he was clearly inebriated in the way his eyelids looked slightly droopy, while there was also a hint of slur in his voice. You looked down at the empty bottle of whisky in his grasp, to which your frown deepened.
“You’re drunk, Jay,” You began to reprimand him, eyeing him disapprovingly. “And you thought it was a brilliant idea to show up here? Don’t tell me that you drove your way here while the alcohol was in your system. Do you know how dangerous that is? You could’ve gotten into an accident!” You truly wanted to act indifferent, but you could not resist against your instinct that was overprotective at the thought of him being in harm’s way.
“Y/N care me,” Jay murmured in an almost childlike voice, eliciting a disbelieving look from you, but you could not deny the fact that he looked rather adorable, resembling a puppy, even though his appearance was the complete opposite ─ his raven locks were slightly tousled, his suit denoted that he had been working, the top of his unbuttoned blouse allowed you a generous view of his toned chest, and truthfully, he looked like he had gone through a period of heartbreak.
You heaved a defeated sigh as you rubbed your temple. “Just, why are you here, Jay? You showed up at my doorstep, drunk, and acted as if nothing happened─”
“I needed to see you. I missed you so fucking much, and I couldn’t wait until tomorrow. I missed everything about you,” Jay cut you off in a jabber, and yet every word he spoke was coherent for you to grasp. Upon noticing his unsteady stability, your hands instinctively reached out to catch him in any case he fell, but you quickly forced your arms to remain by your sides. “I’m drunk because, without the alcohol, I couldn’t face you like this. That’s how much of a coward I am, Y/N.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but your heart nearly lurched in your chest when he stepped past the threshold, looming over your stunned figure. When you looked at him, your eyes widened at the sight of his eyes that were glistening with tears.
“I didn’t want to become an alcoholic like my father. I didn’t want to become like my father, but here I am. I turned out exactly like my father,” His voice shakes with emotions that felt like a painful lump being stuck in his throat. “If I became like my father, you would’ve hated me more than you already have, and that hurt me more than any pain I’ve experienced.”
You had no intention to bear any sympathy or even shed a tear, but when you noticed a teardrop escaping the corner of his eye, you felt as though someone was crushing your heart. “Jay─”
You became alarmed as his body swayed before falling forward, but you caught him in a nick of time, allowing him to lean dependently on your body while his head hung low over your shoulder. You snatched the bottle out of his hand, fearing that he might drop it, while your other arm encircled his body to support him.
Though his consciousness was slowly slipping away from his grasp, your scent managed to pervade his senses. “You smell nice,” He murmured languidly, adjusting the position of his head and burying his nose in the nook of your neck while you were flabbergasted with the temperature of your face rising abruptly by his action.
“Jay?” You patted his back, only receiving silence while his body felt heavier on yours, and so you begrudgingly proceeded to bring him further inside of your apartment before settling him on the couch.
You placed the empty bottle on the coffee table, but just as you intended to call Jake or Sunghoon, you felt his hand tugging at yours with full force, resulting in you losing balance and falling on top of him. It could be the effect of the alcohol, seeing how his face flushed pink and his body temperature felt warm beneath yours, but his teary eyes caused yours to widen.
“I can’t believe I let my precious angel baby go that day. I’m so, so sorry for letting you go without telling you how much I needed you, how much I loved you,” He whispered brokenly, sounding as if he held back a sob. Your body felt paralysed as you remained in his possession. Your heart fluttered when he brushed the strands of hair behind your ear before dragging his fingers down your cheeks and stroking them gently. “Are you even real right now?”
“I am.” You found yourself indulging him, your voice softening, but you knew that the reason was because it was easier to deal with him when he was under the influence of alcohol.
“I don’t know why I’m crying when I shouldn’t,” He mumbled, his eyes looking dazed with the tears rolling down his cheeks while he continued to caress yours. “I’m a man. A man doesn’t cry. Even my father said so. Crying is for the weak.”
“Your father is a jerk,” You retorted, your soft tone serving as a reassurance to him that alleviated his frayed nerves. You reached up to cradle his face, smiling softly at him. “Crying doesn’t mean you’re weak. Sometimes, crying is good for you to help make you feel better afterwards. You’re a human, Jay. You’re allowed to cry whenever you want.”
Jay remained silent, and for a moment, you thought he was sleeping with his eyes open, but the way he gazed at you looked like he was moonstruck by you as he cradled your face. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. God, I wish you were real.”
“I am real, Jay,” You reiterated, but he didn’t seem too convinced. You were not mad at him since the alcohol was affecting his perception. You sighed softly, your hand slowly leaving his cheek. “I’ll let you stay here overnight. Just let me go grab a pillow and─”
“Don’t go. Don’t leave me again, please,” Jay pleaded as he wrapped his arms around your waist, preventing you from moving with how tight they are. “I need you close to me. Let’s just stay like this for a while.”
You should be rejecting him and pushing him away, but instead, you felt weakened, and so you remained on top of him with your head resting on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat while his strong cologne enveloped you, tempting you to bury your face into his chest, and you did.
Moments had passed, and your eyelids felt heavier, but upon feeling his arms around your waist loosen, you carefully removed yourself from his grasp while your eyes trained on the beautiful serenity of his face as he was finally sound asleep.
Your hand tentatively reached out to wipe away the tears on his cheek as you faintly smiled. “What am I going to do with you, Jay?” Despite being asleep, he swore he could hear you whisper those words and your warmth on his cheek before darkness wholly embraced him.
--------
After much contemplation during the shower, Jay chooses the safest route, and that is to feign not remembering what happened last night when the recollection is vivid in his head, not wanting to potentially aggravate the situation since you already seemed hostile enough towards him earlier. The last thing he needs is for you to drift further away from him.
With the towel wrapped loosely around his hips, Jay steps outside of the bathroom at the same time you barge into your room, but he is completely unfazed by the fact that half of his nudity is starkly displayed in front of you. If anything, he feels more amused and smug to see you looking evidently flabbergasted as you remain cemented to the floor.
Having fallen into the temptation, you indulge your desire for him that burns in your heart as you soak in the luscious sight of him into your brain, your eyes shamelessly roaming around him and your mouth nearly salivating. You can vividly see the droplets from the prior shower tantalisingly dripping down on his abdominal muscles, and due to how prominent his muscles are, you presume that he, alongside Jake and Sunghoon, often hit off to the gym together.
As you return your gaze to his face, your cheeks flare with embarrassment at the knowing glint in his eyes as well as the smirk on his lips. Everything about him is infuriatingly irresistible ─ his damp hair with the bangs hovering over his forehead, his full-arm tattoo, his toned physique, his strong gaze that knocks the breath out of you, and his dark allure that serenades you.
“I was just looking for my purse,” You nearly stutter with your words before feigning nonchalance, wanting to cover up the fact that you blatantly checked him out for five solid minutes.
“Sure,” The smirk on his lips persists, making you feel flustered before you force yourself to tear your gaze away from him and proceed to resume what you intended to as you turn your back on him. “By the way, can I have my jacket back?”
You look back at him with your face twisting in confusion. “Your jacket? I don’t recall you giving me your jacket─” Realisation hits you like a truck, recalling the familiarity of his strong cologne last night, but then another matter comes forth, bringing a frown to your lips. “So you were actually stalking me at the bar that night, but I don’t understand. I saw Jake’s car before I got into my Uber ride. Were you with him too?”
“I wasn’t stalking you. Jake and I happened to be at the bar even before you arrived, but we did wait for you until we were certain that you’ve arrived at your apartment building safely,” Jay explains shortly, but enough for you to understand. “Plus, you were shivering when you were asleep at the bar, so I gave you my jacket.”
“How thoughtful of you. If only you didn’t follow me all the way like a creepy stalker,” You remark with sarcasm before trudging forward to head to your closet and rummaging through to find his jacket. Just as you finally grab it, you feel his presence looming behind you while his body heat causes you to straighten your posture. “What do you think you’re doing?” You ask tersely without turning around, gripping the jacket tight.
You can practically feel his warm breath fanning lightly on your earlobe. “You said you were going to run late to reach the airport, right?” He asks softly, carrying a sensual tone that has your heart go pounding crazily against your chest. “Let me send you to the airport instead. I drive fast.”
“No, thank you. I can book myself an Uber,” You clip, daring yourself to turn around, only to be taken aback by the close proximity, and you defy against your ravenous desire to pounce on him.
“I wasn’t asking, baby,” He says lowly, his intimidating gaze that burns through yours amplifies your desire for him. You forget that his obstinacy is on par with the rest of his best friends, so even if you vehemently refused again, he would not budge. “I’m driving you to the airport. Besides, I have plans for us afterwards.”
“What if I refuse?” You tilt your chin in defiance, and he seems to relish in the way your fiery gaze reflects your stubbornness, but it is one of the qualities about you he loves.
“You can’t refuse me, baby,” He smirks, grabbing his jacket from your hands before he turns around to exit your closet. “You’re welcome to stay and watch me get changed, by the way.”
Of course, you ignore him as you immediately trudge your way out of the room, no matter how enticing the offer is.
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An hour or two ago, you were at the airport, bidding your best friends a heartfelt farewell alongside Jennifer, and they were equally stunned to see Jay accompanying you. There was no doubt that there were questions weighing heavily on the tip of their tongue, but thankfully, they did not bombard you with their questions. It was awkward, especially when you knew that they detested each other, but Jay seemed neutral with an impassive countenance.
As promised, Jay kept his words and began the motion of his plan right after the farewell at the airport by bringing you to a rather fancy restaurant for brunch first. It was a delightful brunch despite your aloof demeanour towards him. You were surprised to see that Jay had such patience throughout the whole time, and not even once did he seem irritated by your cold detachment.
Presently, you are nestled in the passenger seat of his black Ford Mustang, resting comfortably with your eyelids threatening to close as your tummy feels full after appeasing your hunger, and a nap is a necessity at this moment, but when your eyes flicker to him, you feel miraculously wide awake.
The black top, which belongs to Jake, fits him perfectly with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, displaying his veins for your eyes to feast upon while the mere sight of the titanium Rolex watch on your wrist does something to you that you can feel in your tummy. His raven bangs hover over his forehead, adding a soft touch to his countenance. His strong gaze is unmistakable, even just by the side profile, as he focuses on the road. You continue to marvel at how undeniably gorgeous he is discreetly.
Or maybe not so discreetly, because the moment he turns his head to look at you so briefly, his lips twitch into a knowing smirk, causing cheeks to flare. It is not your fault that his handsomeness bewitched you.
“So, Sunghoon and Jake told me that you’re overseeing your father’s company here,” You strike up a conversation, much to your own surprise since you had intended to remain aloof, but you want to dispel the awkwardness. “So you’re like a CEO, then? Is it permanent?”
“Unfortunately,” Jay’s answer earns a confused look from you, and his eyes soften before he decides to explain. “I never wanted to become a managing director, let alone to be involved in any of my father’s business, but since I’m his only son and heir, I had to fulfil my obligation. It’s also a perfect coincidence that the location of my obligation is here.”
You nod your head in understanding, but before you can speak, he continues, his tone carrying a bitterness. “If I had refused my father back then, he wouldn’t have allowed me to move abroad, and I wouldn’t be able to meet you.”
“So the reason you’re here in the first place was because of work?” You can’t help but to sound disappointed, even if your ego is the reason you are refraining yourself from caving into him after seeing his efforts since earlier and how gentle and soft-spoken he had been towards you, entirely different from the Jay you first met.
“No, baby. The real reason I’m here right now is because of you. It has always been my real intention, but my father didn’t grant me the freedom I wanted unless I comply with his order, or else I wouldn’t be bothered to become the managing director,” Jay casts you another glance, his lips forming a rueful smile. “But everything I’ve gone through was worth it, because it gives me the opportunity to build the future I envisioned with you in it.”
You look down at your hands, feeling your heartbeat going rapidly by his last statement. “How were you so sure that I’d even be in your future?” You force your voice to come out strong, almost flintily, but you remain a jittery mess on the inside. “If you hadn’t found out where I really was, then all you’ve worked hard for and built would’ve gone to vain.”
“I told you before, didn’t I?” A discernible knowingness laces in his voice. “At the yacht party, a year ago.”
Your breath hits in your throat while nostalgia pulls at your heartstrings. “You still remember that yacht party?”
“Of course. I remember every memory I had with you,” He smiles wistfully, and when he meets your eyes again, you can see a longing regret for a fleeting moment. “Do you remember what I told you if you leave me again?”
“No,” You deny, refusing to admit that you, too, remember every memory you had so vividly that it feels fresh in your mind as they resurface, especially this particular one. “Even if you leave again, I’ll find you, and I’ll chase you till the end.”
“I may be the biggest arsehole in the world, but I’m a man of my words,” His stern voice holds an unequivocal promise, one that sends you the familiar chills. “I told you before that I would always find you and that I’d chase you till the end.”
You remain silent as you curl your fingers into fists on your lap. You want to say something, anything, but it feels as though his words have coiled around your throat, suffocating you with the promise infused like a coaxing substance. When you finally focus on your surroundings, a frown pulls at your lips, your head filling with pure confusion at your current location, wondering why he has brought you to a car dealership. “Why are we here?”
Like an expert, Jay manipulates the steering wheel in a way that has you gawking at his hands while he is preoccupied in parking his car. “We’re here to buy a car,” He answers, albeit vaguely. You are taken by surprise when he leans towards you, causing you to hold your breath in the close proximity while he doesn’t look away from your eyes, only for him to unbuckle your seatbelt. A faint smirk appears on his lips as he examines the flushness of your face. “Let’s go.”
You ignore the rising temperature on your cheeks. “For who? You already have one.”
His face remains impassive as he switches off the ignition. “For you, of course. It’ll be for your convenience to get around here,” He says calmly, merely dismissing the genuine surprise on your face before he exits his car, with you following suit.
“But I don’t even have my driving license yet!” You exclaim in protest as soon as you catch up to him. “Seriously, if this is your method to earn me back with money or with a freaking car─”
“Trust me, I know, and I don’t expect anything from you,” Jay cuts you off sternly, halting his steps as he scans your countenance before his eyes go soft with adoration. “Just let me do this for you. I’m being sincere about it.”
As much as you would like to refuse, it feels like an insurmountable obstacle, especially in maintaining your aloofness towards him, and so with a resigned sigh, you nod your head before grumbling under your breath, “I should’ve gotten that damn driving license with Jen.”
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Spending approximately about an hour and a half at the car dealership simply exhausts you, and it is equivalent to when you accompanied Jennifer to shop at the famous Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. Not only did you have to make an arduous decision in choosing vehicles of your liking ─ yes, vehicles. Jay insisted you choose a motorbike of your own as well, an Aprilia RSV4 ─ but the paperwork was just as gruelling.
Finally egressing the outlet, your eyes search for a certain someone who excused himself right after he did his part in the paperwork across the expansive parking lot before they land on his stature with his handsome back facing you which sends you an annoying flutter.
As you approach him, the stifling smell of a cigarette causes your nose to scrunch up in complete distaste while your eyes follow the movement of grey smoke wafting in the air before they flicker at the burning white stick rolled between his fingers.
You press your lips thinly, watching him from behind as he raises the stick to his lips while he remains blissfully unaware of your presence. You know you should be minding your own business, especially when his health does not concern you, but you feel strongly inclined to do the exact opposite.
Tucking your lower lip between your teeth, you begin to fiddle with your fingers before gravitating towards him until you are in his line of sight. Your heart flutters at the intensity of his handsome gaze on your face while the burning stick is caged between his teeth.
Instead of being rattled by the intoxicating smell, you find yourself cemented to the ground, as though his whole being alone spellbinds you. You blink your eyes, clearing your throat as you feign annoyance. “You should really stop smoking. It’s bad for your health in the long run.”
The corner of his lips curves up into a smirk as he withdraws the stick from his mouth to blow out the smoke while he never breaks eye contact with you. “You’re worried about me, baby?”
“No. I just don’t like people smoking in general.” You nearly stutter with your words, clearly taken aback by his remark.
Jay does not seem convinced, and for a fleeting moment, bitterness hardens his eyes while a muscle pulses in his jaw. “Did you tell Sunghoon to stop smoking as well? Or are you playing favourites now?” He keeps his tone neutral, careful enough not to aggravate your distance from him. “Or maybe you’re denying that you’re worried about me?”
“I’m not playing favourites,” You deny rather vehemently, to which you are baffled at yourself for being defensive. Your remark earns you an unamused expression from him. “Fine, I’m worried about you! Are you happy?” You snap at him, easily caving into those dark, attractive eyes of his.
Oddly, his smirk falls flat on his lips while his eyes seem to soften, but they are captivating enough to retain your full attention on him. “Alright. I’ll stop smoking,” His sincerity causes you to double take his words as you stare at him dumbfounded. “At least I’ll try to.”
“Just because I said so?” You force yourself to scoff out as your heart flutters annoyingly once more, watching as he throws the burning stick to the ground only to snuff the burning tip with the sole of his shoe.
Jay unfurls a soft smile on his lips, and yet wistfulness glimmers in his eyes as he returns to your gaze. “Everything I do has always been for you.”
You look away from his eyes that seem to be pulling you in dangerously, clearing your throat as you attempt to walk past him to get to his car. “We should go.”
Jay clenches his fist, fighting against his longing urges, but he caves in as he quickly catches up to you, his hand latching on your wrist. “Baby, wait.”
“Jay─” Before you can even protest, you are rendered speechless when he pulls you into his warm embrace, his arms encasing your frigid form. Your heart aches yearningly as he tightens his arms around you with his cheek pressing into the side of your head.
“I missed being able to hold you like this,” Jay mumbles, savouring this moment for as long as he can before releasing you, feeling defeated at your avoidance of reciprocity. A rueful smile touches his lips. “I remember what happened while I was drunk last night.”
Your breath hitches in your throat at his confession, and a pang of hurt strikes you in the chest. “You said you didn’t. You lied to me, again.”
“I was afraid that you’d push me away like you did last week,” Jay confesses earnestly, oblivious to the fact that you are grappling with your emotions that beseech you to cave into him, especially as he is looking at you with an intense longing. “I’ve never felt afraid of anything until you, so I’m sorry. I know I have a lot of things to apologise for.” He says with a final sigh, only receiving your silence when he takes the cue to walk past you.
But you surprise yourself as you stop him, tugging at his hand almost meekly while the skin contact sends a spark to him. “Jay,” His name is uttered with your wavering voice, prompting him to meet your eyes, only to be taken aback by the glistening tears in them. “I─” Your voice shakes, and your throat hurts from restraining every bit of your emotions since waking up to his presence in your humble abode.
Truth be told, you still remember every word he said last night, and his words struck you deeply in the heart. After all, humans tend to be veracious with their words when they fall into inebriation.
Jay unfurls a sad smile, a passing understanding flickers in his eyes. “You don’t have to say anything,” He reassures you softly as he squeezes your hand. “Let me just take you back─”
“I want you to hold me again.” You cut him off, pulling him closer as you tug his hand, and this time, you can feel every bit of your inhibition leaving you. You blink your tears away. “I want you to want me so bad─”
“I don’t think I deserve to want you, baby. Not yet,” Jay whispers almost painfully while the longing in his eyes only seems to wound you in the heart. He musters a bitter smile. “Let’s go. I’ll bring you back to my place so I can properly apologise to you.”
“But─”
“Please, Y/N,” Jay pleads, maintaining his composure that baffles you because his eyes hold a beautiful galaxy of emotions for you despite his firm demeanour. “You don’t deserve the bare minimum, which is why I want to prove to you how much I deserve you.” Upon receiving your acknowledging head nod, he proceeds to guide you back to his car while your heart races in anticipation.
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The gradual evening is draped in a soft glow, the sun setting with the heavenly hues of orange and pink, a breathtaking view that you can conveniently appreciate whenever you desire to step out to the rooftop just a door away that is adjacent to the living room. One of the many perks of residing at a penthouse, at least for them, which you genuinely feel envious of.
Earlier, when Jay intended to bring you back to their palace, you definitely did not expect to walk past the threshold of their exquisite penthouse. You were in awe throughout the whole time Jay introduced you to every part of the penthouse except their bedrooms. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer the panoramic view of the sophisticated city, a view that you wish to wake up to better, as it is much better than the view from your apartment’s point of view.
Presently, you are seated by the kitchen island, watching Jay in silence as he has been occupied cooking for the past thirty minutes or so since he insisted on you occupying yourself by doing whatever you desired, but you eventually grew bored. Besides, nothing is more heart-fluttering than to watch a handsome man in a domestic element.
Your lips unfurl a soft smile while you can feel the pupils in your eyes dilated with adoration as they follow his every movement, despite your heartstrings pulling painfully at the longing of missing this view of him. When Jay turns around, his eyes meet yours, causing your heart to pound harder against your chest.
Jay gives you a small smile before refocusing as he intends to set up your dinner on the main table at the rooftop, albeit an impromptu one to which you do not mind, as soon as he does the final touch on the Italian cuisine, which smells delectable and has your stomach grumbling faintly in a neglected hunger. Since you refuse to remain discourteous, you provide your assistance to Jay, merely disregarding his insistence on sitting at the dining table prettily as you continue to assist in whatever is there.
It is not long until you have settled across from Jay, light-hearted conversation flowing smoothly between you and him in the midst of dining, with the dinner arrangement meticulously and pleasingly established by him. All the while, you feel an air of intimacy that feels different, almost raw, and the ambience evokes a rather romantic dinner that has your satisfied tummy and heart going all fuzzy.
But something else feels unsatisfactory since Jay hugged you at the car dealership, and you lack the patience to ignore it any longer. You acknowledge that Jay has been noticeably considerate by establishing his distance from you, as though he feared that invading your personal space would lead to you bearing second thoughts about this, but honestly, the distance is killing you, and you want nothing more than for him to be close to you.
“Thank you for everything, for today, I mean,” You give him your earnest gratitude as soon as you nestle comfortably on the linen sofa that is situated adjacently by the pool, which also allows you to view the cityscape without having to adjust your position. Your fingers remain latched around the stem of your glass of red wine as you watch him take sips of his wine, seated across from you. You fist the hem of your dress, struggling to maintain patience at his distance once again. “You didn’t have to do all of that. You could’ve just given up on me on the day I pushed all of you away.”
His eyes soften as he gazes at the serenity in your beautiful countenance, feeling greatly relieved that you are no longer hostile towards him. “But I couldn’t. How could I when my heart refused to let you go, just like it refused to a year ago?”
“So you’ve never been with any other girls ever since then?” The question leaves your mouth in haste, albeit there is a certain edge of jealousy in your tone as you imagine the unpalatable possibility.
Jay shakes his head in response, but it is the sincerity in those gentle eyes of his that reassures you and allays your simmering jealousy. “I didn’t bother because my heart, my soul, and every inch of me refused to find and be with anyone that wasn’t you,” His tongue tastes bitter while his eyes harden as he recalls that agonising year without you. “When you left, it felt like my life had lost its meaning.”
The benign ambience shifts into something fragile in spite of the tension that gradually thickens, and as you examine him, your heart aches at the vulnerability seeping between the cracks of his once-tenacious demeanour. You press your lips thinly. “But you were doing fine. You told me that you were focusing on building your career─”
“I had no choice but to keep going, to pretend that I was fine when all I wanted was to go on a rampage spree and kill that fucker who started it all,” Jay cuts you off sharply, his eyes blazing with ire at the mere mention of him, but the tremor in his voice is palpable as he grapples with his emotions, and above all, he sounds sorrowful. “I was a body without a soul, Y/N, because you were my soul.”
You remain silent, looking away from him briefly as you feel tears prickle in the corner of your eyes, but Jay misunderstands your gesture as rejection, causing him to feel defeated. He puts down his half-empty glass of wine on the coffee table and adjusts himself slightly forward with his hands clasped together, his head hanging low. “Every single day, I was haunted by the memories I had with you that replayed on my mind constantly, including the memories of you in tears because of me and how badly I treated you in the beginning,” He clenches his jaw, self-loathing as he reflects on his actions. “I wanted nothing more than to get rid of my heart that was beating undeservedly after what I’ve done to you.”
You draw in a sharp breath as those memories begin to sting, but honestly, the hidden resentment towards his past actions has long since dispelled by the love you harbour for him. “It’s okay. The past in the past. Besides, you’ve changed, remember?” You muster a small smile of reassurance, but Jay only stares at you as if you had offended him. “I’ve forgiven you all, a year ago when I boarded the plane.”
“It’s not okay, baby. How could you even forgive us so easily?” His exasperation laces with desperation, and his eyes glisten beautifully with a myriad of emotions you are able to decipher ─ anger, self-hatred, despair, regret. “You were tormented by the aftermath of what happened, and neither of us wasn’t there for you during your lowest. I wasn’t there for you when I should’ve protected and comforted you, but I was too blindsided by my revenge to hurt the one responsible for everything. We all were.”
A fallen teardrop escapes the corner of your eye as the last layers you built to protect your once-wounded heart decorticate. “Yeah, you should’ve. You should’ve been the ones to tell me the truth instead of Jungwon and the others,” You remind him again, your tone conveying the hurt that stems from the old wound. The tears begin to accumulate in your eyes despite blinking them away. “That day when I confronted you in the rain, you should’ve stopped me from lashing out at you when you already knew that you weren’t responsible for what happened, and above all, you shouldn't have lied to me that you had deleted them.”
“I know, fuck, I know,” Jay nearly curses at himself, but stops as soon as he recognises how delicate you look, and the glimmer of hurt in your eyes at the painful reminder prompts him to embrace you even when he feels that he is undeserving to hold you, but fuck it. The next thing he knows, he feels a gravitational pull as he ambles towards you. “I regret everything, and I lived in regret every single day. I knew that I didn’t deserve you, but I wanted you, and I still do. I should’ve done this sooner.”
The sound of his footsteps prompts your attention to him, causing your heart to beat in a familiar cadence that amplifies your longing for him. His gaze moltens with such intensity amidst the penitence and yearning, and as he stands in front of you, his stature descends while you watch him getting down on his knees, rendering you flabbergasted.
“You told us before that you were willing to do anything even if it meant to stay by our side, and so I’m doing it now,” Not once did he break eye contact, nor did he waver, exhibiting his tenacious resolve that you feel wholeheartedly, and it springs more tears to your eyes. “Right now, I don’t care about my pride. You deserve to have a man on his knees and worship the ground you walk on. You deserve so fucking much, and if I’m being honest, I don’t know if this is enough for me to prove that I deserve you.”
“Jay,” You whisper his name while tears begin to cascade down your cheeks, and even in tears, you look gracefully beautiful, bringing a faint smile to his lips despite his vision gradually getting blurry with tears of his own.
“Marriage wasn't something I wanted, especially after witnessing the loveless marriage of my parents. I didn’t believe that love would make me happy. I wasn’t even looking for love until I found you, until you captured my heart without you even realising it,” His heartfelt confession hits you like relentless cupid arrows to your heart that are beating for him, and the desperation he exhibits only amplifies the torrent of emotions you release. “I knew that I was in love with you when I first took you to that dinner date. You were wearing a lovely white dress I bought for you, and I was completely moonstruck when you were walking towards me,” Jay reminisces as he adorns a fond smile at the memory, his hand ascending to cup your wet cheek while you instinctively lean into his touch. “You were truly a darling, just as you are now.”
“You bad guy,” You sob softly as you place your hand on top of his, pressing his palm into your cheek with more affection that has his heart swelling with adoration for you. “You made me wait for so long. I chose to live in denial for a year, all because I didn’t have the guts to accept the fact that deep down, I knew that I still loved you. I just wish─” A shaky breath leaves your lips as the words clog in your throat painfully, but his strong yet gentle gaze is a reassurance for you to continue. Choking back a sob, you flutter your eyelids close as you nuzzle your cheek into his palm. “I wish you weren’t a piece of me that I needed after all this time.”
“I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry that I made you wait for so long,” Jay cradles your face, and with his height that levels with you, he leans in to give a soft kiss on your forehead while your heart warms at his gesture. When he pulls you away, you look at him only to be surprised by the tears silently cascading down his cheeks. “I’m even more sorry for myself because I’ve waited a lifetime for you. I love you, Y/N Kang. I always have.”
You open your mouth with the intention to reciprocate, but you are rendered speechless when he unravels a surprise in his hand that is holding a red velvet box, oblivious to the way his hand trembles slightly with nervousness.
“This isn’t a marriage proposal, but I do intend on marrying you some day. I can’t think of anyone else worthy to be my wife and the mother of my child,” He says, his voice shaking with emotions that threaten to overwhelm him as he opens the box to retrieve the platinum diamond ring. “Consider this ring a promise from me to you. A promise that I’ll marry you and that I love you till the day I die.”
Holding your hand, he slides the ring into your forefinger as it fits perfectly, his touch a familiar reverence. He looks up at you again with fierce determination in his glistening eyes. “No, not even death can separate us,” He declares, his tone unconcealing with promises as he brings your hand to place a gentle kiss on your knuckle, a gesture that never fails to make your heart flutter. “You are my heart and soul, Y/N. When you left, I felt myself breaking on the inside. I─” His voice cracks mid sentence, and it hurts you to see how devastatingly hopeless he looks, as though you will push him away again. “I didn’t know what to do, and I was so lost without my angel.”
“Your angel is here, Jay,” You utter softly as you cradle his face, mustering a smile on your tear-stained face despite your heart aches at pain glimmering in his eyes. You lean your face towards him until your nose brushes against his, whispering, “Your angel is here to stay by your side for good.”
The love emanating from you and him is palpable, encapsulating a symphony that you can hear in your ear, your pulse drumming louder and louder while the distance between your lips and his decreases, your eyelids going hooded as you await the kiss, but the moment shatters abruptly by the sonorous cracking, causing you to pull away from him to divert your attention to the night sky that is now illuminated by resplendent fireworks.
Instead of focusing on the spectacular view, Jay’s eyes never leave the fascination on your face as you slowly rise from the sofa to amble forward. “I didn’t know there would be fireworks here,” You voice out your thoughts in awe, momentarily shifting your gaze to him as he walks towards you. The look on his face tells you everything you need to know, and your heart begins to pound harder. “You did this. How?”
“I have my ways and resources,” Jay briefly answers, and it is no wonder why he was busy on his phone nearly thirty minutes earlier. Your eyes soften as you notice how evidently nervous he is. “I know it’s not much─”
You let your inhibition go as you cradle his face, dispelling his doubts by the abrupt contact of your lips on his, a kiss that unfolds a gradual fervour that has him nearly weak in the knees. With urgency, his arms encase your waist as he pulls you closer to his body, deepening the kiss while the ongoing fireworks in the background fade like everything else because nothing relevant exists at the moment other than you in his arms.
“I love you,” You murmur against his lips, forcing yourself to pull away from the kiss. Tears of joy spring to your eyes despite the love and desire in your eyes that reflect his. “I'm still so in love with you, Park Jongseong.”
Jay takes you by surprise when he captures your lips into a passionate kiss while the impact nearly sends your head pushing to the back, but he cradles the back of your head reverently, holding you in place. Your hearts beat in a symphony as the kiss deepens the connection between you, kissing him with equal fervour that rouses his desire for you. Goosebumps arise on your skin at the warmth of his palms sliding down your thighs as he breaks the kiss, only to ghost his lips on yours. “Jump,” He commands, and you easily comply with your arms instinctively hooking around his neck.
With his hands supporting you from your underthighs, Jay proceeds to carry you into the penthouse, bringing you over to the living room and settling you on the sectional couch. When your back hits the cushion, he wastes no time in slamming his lips on yours, sealing you into a kiss that intensifies the rousing heat in your cores.
“Jay,” You pant lightly as soon as he pulls away from your lips with the strings of your saliva still connected. You utter his name again breathlessly as he begins to trail wet kisses down your neck, your chest heaving up and down at the heady tension as he litters his kisses on the expanse of your nearly exposed chest before hovering his face over yours to seal you into a searing kiss that your hips are bucking up in need of him.
“I’ve been breaking for a lifetime for you, baby. You have no idea,” Jay rasps against your parted lips, desperation clinging onto the raw vulnerability in the tremor of his voice. “You, for whom I’ve waited for a lifetime since the day you left, and even before I met you. You, who is the only woman to ever bring me down to my knees, and I’d gladly do so again.”
Despite the lust swimming in the depths of your eyes, your features soften while your heart remains a fluttering mess at his words all over. “You’ve got me now, Jay. I’ll be yours for a thousand lives,” You whisper, brushing your lips against his as you stroke his cheekbone with your thumb. “I’m yours forever.”
“Mine,” His voice is a low rumble against your lips that sends a vibration, causing you to shudder by the undercurrent of primal desire. He places a chaste kiss on your lips before discarding every layer of his clothes, with you following suit.
Your mouth goes salivating at the luscious sight of his prominent muscles on display, and your fingers make their ascent to trace down the lines of his abdominal, sending him the shivers, but before your fingers can tease him with how conspicuous his bulge looks against the material of his briefs, he seizes them, only to kiss your fingertips with his dark sensual gaze penetrating you. “Lie down, baby. I’m gonna make you feel good.”
You comply, your heart racing in anticipation as he pulls down your underwear before spreading your legs, bringing heat to your cheeks at the embarrassment of how noticeably wet you are as he has you spread lewdly before him while his dark ravenous eyes zero in on your pussy, no doubt ready to devour you.
Jay dips his head down to trail kisses on your inner thigh, moving tantalisingly slowly to your wet mound that has you whimpering out your impatience. He smiles into your skin before playfully nipping at it, eliciting a soft gasp from you. “Patience, baby. I want to take my time on you,” He mumbles, placing one last kiss on your inner thigh before slotting his lips over your clit.
You shudder lightly as he takes a slow, deliberate lick on your sensitive nub before his tongue journeys along your slick folds, lathering them with his saliva. He hooks his arms from underneath your thighs, pulling you closer to him that causes the tip of his nose to press against your throbbing clit while he doesn’t let up with his tongue lapping and delving into the depths of your sweltering core.
“Oh, Jay,” You moan, arching your back off the sofa while the position allows you to feel his tongue deeply as he devours you with fervour, getting utterly drunk in the heat of your essence. He feels like he could die happily at this moment, basking in your warmth with your fingers now tangled in his locks. “Please don’t stop,” You buck your hips up, causing your clit to rub against his nose while he complies with your needy request.
The sound as he relentlessly fucks you with his tongue is wetly obscene, accompanied by your incoherent utterance of pleasure that amplifies the heady atmosphere in the living room. Your head is dizzying with pleasure, borderline delirious at how expertly his tongue fucks you, causing your body to writhe underneath him while your thighs go quivering, feeling the tension coil tighter in your tummy.
“Jay!” You gasp at the pricking of his teeth biting your clit, though not enough to hurt you but enough to send another wave of pleasure through your body before wrapping his lips around the nub and flickering it with his tongue. “Fuck, I can’t─ ” You whimper as his muscle movements grow urgently, hurtling you to the brink of ecstasy.
Without letting up, his fingers ascend to your chest, stimulating your heightened senses more as he fondles with your tit, occasionally pinching and flicking your nipple tenderly that amplifies your coiling pleasure as you deepen your arch. He buries himself deeply into your sopping cunt, feeling your walls quivering on his tongue, and he knows that you are closer to falling into the abyss of ecstasy.
“I’m gonna─” Your words clog in your throat as he captures your throbbing nub, and with a final flick, your body convulses with your orgasm crashing down on you like tidal waves as you come undone, but his tongue remains lapping on your clit, intensifying the sensitivity that has you whimpering out. “Jay, no more.”
Jay merely ignores you, holding your convulsing body down firmly as he laps up your nectar greedily with his sheeny nose, lips, and chin smeared with your cum before he finally halts, hovering on top of you with a predatory craze in his dark eyes, causing your breath to hitch at how hypnotising he looks. He dips his head down and kisses you, making you taste yourself on his lips.
Your fingers go winding in his hair, tugging at it gently as his lips move against yours passionately. “Missed your taste. Missed everything about you,” He nearly growls out into the heated kiss, his tongue skimming along the seams of your lips before you welcome him into your hot cavern.
You moan wetly into his mouth as you exchange saliva with him, your tongue dancing in an intimate tango with his, rousing a familiar arousal in your core as you grind your slick folds directly against his hard bulge. You pull away from his lips just slightly, panting needily. “I need you so bad.”
“I need you more, baby,” He whispers, placing a chaste kiss above your cupid bow before he leans away from you to discard his briefs. He watches the way your eyes are laden with desire at the sight of his veiny cock and how the pink tip is already smeared with his precum, having been aroused by eating you out.
Jay wastes no time, hovering above you with his arm at the side of your head supporting his weight while the other is occupied in adjusting and aligning his cock with your sopping entrance. A soft moan leaves your lips at the jolting sensation of the bulbous tip pressing into your throbbing clit before he slides his cock down to your entrance and finally pushes forward.
“You’re squeezing me tight, baby girl,” His husky voice sounds rough with lust, burying himself deeper to the hilt with your velvety clinging onto his cock like a desperate lover. He looks up to study your face that is contorting into pure ecstasy as he begins to deliver thrust after thrust with unbridled passion that has you rolling your eyes to the back.
His thrusts are deliberate with such precision, while the tantalising slow drags of his cock in between your velvet walls send you spiralling in the abyss of euphoria, as though he is savouring every inch of you with how he seems to be taking his sweet time. Your heart flutters at how gentle and tender he is being, and you feel as though he is making love to you instead.
You latch your hand onto his bicep while the muscle flexes beneath your touch as you arch your back, feeling him hitting that spot continually with your neck bared in his eyes to feast upon before he dips his head down to trail kisses and licks on your neck with his hot breath on your skin.
You moan out his name as soon as he rubs your clit expertly, amplifying the intensity of your pleasure without losing tandem in the way he thrusts into you with an undercurrent vigour while the volume of your skins slapping and your wet arousal sounds prominent in your ear.
“Feels good, baby?” He asks in between bated breaths, his hand searching for yours before intertwining your fingers together next to your head, an affectionate gesture that rouses butterflies in your tummy.
“So good,” You roll your eyes to the back at the sensual drag of his cock, causing your hips to stutter midway in meeting his thrusts. Your eyes glaze with lust as they search for his eyes that penetrate into yours with such intense love. “Jay, kiss me.”
Jay leans down and presses his lips on yours, bringing tears to your eyes as you feel the torrent of love he pours into the kiss. “I love you,” He pulls away from the kiss to lean his forehead against yours with his eyes fluttering closed, preventing tears of his to escape. “I love you so much,” His voice barely above a whisper, but you discern the rawness that reflects the depths of his feelings for you.
Fallen teardrops roll down your cheeks as you grip his hand tighter. “I love you too, Jay,” Your voice trembles at the moment your body does as the pleasure reaches a crescendo, your orgasm teetering at the precipice. “I’m close.”
“Me too,” He breathes out raggedly, never letting up his thrusts, while the pleasure from having his back being raked frantically by your fingernails causes goosebumps to arise on his skin.
“In me, please. Need you to cum in me,” You plead in between gasps as each thrust hits the spongey spot relentlessly that has your walls clamping around him. The thought of getting impregnated by him fuels your desperation, prompting you to lock your legs around his waist.
“Fuck, yeah, okay,” He rasps against your skin, placing a kiss above your brow. “You’d look so good with a pregnant belly,” With a guttural moan, his orgasm crashes down on him in a torrent of ecstasy as he snaps his hips against yours, pressing you down on the couch and filling you to the brim at the same time you violently come undone with a breathy moan.
Jay presses a deep kiss on your cheek before soothing you from your high with lulling whispers of how good you are to him. The connection that transcends the physical remains palpable as he gazes deeply into your eyes.
“You are so perfect,” Jay whispers affectionately as he brushes away the strands of your hair from sticking to your face. Despite the love swimming in his eyes, a darkness resides, one that symbolises his darkest obsession for you. “Mine. All mine.”
“Yours,” You breathe out, getting aroused as he lowers his head to litter kisses on your chest before capturing your hardened nipple his lips, eliciting a needy whine from you. “Jay, please,” You buck your hips up, only to moan at the sensation of his cock twitching deeply in you.
Before you know it, Jay proceeds to carry you in the direction of his room with his hands supporting you from below. As your patience runs thinly, you whine next to his ear, attempting to bounce on his cock midair with your legs locked firmly around him.
“Patience, baby,” He groans lowly as you prod further with your lips trailing kisses and nips on his neck, akin to how a kitten acts with its owner, vying for attention. His fingers dig into your flesh, lacking the self-control to fuck you with reckless abandon right here and now as he stands midway at the doorway. Y/N.”
Your walls clamp around him at his authoritative tone, eliciting another groan from him as you pull away to look at him in the eyes. “Need you to make love to me again,” You tell him needily, your lips jutting into a pout that entices him to seal you into a bruising kiss.
“I will,” He promises as he carefully places you down on the bed without breaking the connection. He grabs your hand to give a kiss on your ring finger while he maintains eye contact with you, his lips curving into a smirk. “I’ll make love to you all night.”
This is not the first time Heeseung has waited for you to return and watched you head inside your apartment building safely. In fact, he has been doing this for months ever since he grasped the navigation skills around the city. Although he had other things to prioritise, you were his primary priority, including your safety, despite the fact that you were doing just fine even before he arrived. He would furtively watch you from afar in the dark most nights and wait until the lights in your apartment switched on that denoted your safe arrival before he proceeded to speed off.
Remaining stationary at his usual post with his booted feet planted on the asphalt ground to stabilise his sleek black motorbike, his dark gaze pierces through the visor of his AGV helmet as he watches you dismount from his best friend’s motorbike. Jay adjusts your slightly unkempt hair while you remain pouting, only to break into a bashful smile when he leans in to kiss you with his arm encasing your waist.
Heeseung feels his jaw go taut while his eyes never stray from you. He should be unfazed at the intimate sight of you and his best friend when he has seen it more than once over the course of last week with Sunghoon and Jake as well when they sent you back to your apartment, but this time, particularly tonight, his jealousy is uncurbed, and all he wants is to have you all over him like you once did.
Instead of feeling happy for his best friends who have successfully reconciled with you, resentment and envy fuse in the heat of his veins, but the hurt constricting his chest is more palpable than anything at the cold reality that you look perfectly fine without him. You don’t even look like you’re missing him, as though you have everything you need, which includes his best friends.
It takes every strength in him to refrain himself from chasing after you as he watches you heading inside the building, fearing that his abrupt presence would exacerbate your hatred and resentment towards him as he recalls the way you looked at him glaringly and the words you spoke that pierced into his bleeding heart, but he knows that he has no right to feel hurt when you were the one who had suffered a shitty ordeal, which led to the eventual of your unforeseen absence in his life for a year.
A year without you feels like an agonising eternity, where he spent his days and nights aimlessly, as though the purpose of his existence was deemed meaningless without you by his side. But Heeseung unwaveringly graced with equanimity, deceiving the others and even his best friends by seemingly coping with your absence well when, in actuality, hell was close to breaking loose at any moment whenever the thought of you surfaced on his mind.
Heeseung once considered himself as someone who had absolute zero regret in his past actions, be it good or bad, and someone whose resolute was unshakeable, but when the incident happened, he was stricken with guilt, followed by the immense regret as he knew that he should not have lied to you about your vulnerability being deleted. Not only was that his only regret in his life, but he also regrets the times he took you for granted and the fact that he was too late to tell you what you truly meant to him. Above all, he regrets not staying by your side and comforting you when you needed him most.
Heeseung knows that whatever reasons he had to justify his absence in the tribulation period you went through are unacceptable because if he wanted to, he would have, no matter what, even though he needed to ensure that his foe would never be able to harm you ever again. He should have gone to you first to explain the whole truth and prove his innocence, but instead, he allowed cowardice to influence him, rendering him hopelessly defeated, especially when you had every reason to believe that he intended to hurt you.
That rainy night, when your appearance came like a bolt of lightning to confront them, he was grappling with his emotions, each threatening to shatter his tenacity in his composure. He wanted to hold you and comfort you, but the sheer hurt on your face quailed him so much that he even felt deeply in his heart, and how hurtful it was to see you heartbroken over them with your injured hand wrapped with a bandage.
Heeseung wishes that he could turn back at that moment of time to tell you the eight letters that weighed heavily on his tongue; he wishes to make things right by turning back the time when he first saw you with the pink cardigan flailing on your figure as you rushed to find an empty seat in the auditorium; and he wishes to tell you that he has loved you since you were eighteen, even if his eighteen-year-old self had no notion of what love was.
His heart and soul desperately yearn for you, for you to return to his arms that were made for holding you. He misses how you used to look at him with enamoured eyes, how you would smile bashfully whenever he became flirtatious, and in everything you do that was endearing in his eyes. Heeseung misses you; he always has.
You are the only woman who possessed the ability to fill the void in his mundane life and the only goodness who shone brightly amid the darkness that enshrouded his universe. You are not only his love, but you are also the loss of his life.
Heeseung tightens his grip on the hand clutches, his once-laid back posture taut with tension while his eyes are steely with self-loathing. If he had divulged the truth instead of coaxing you with a lie with the intention to ease your worries, would things turn out different? If he and the others had gotten to you sooner and revealed the truth, would you have forgiven them and stayed by their side?
Well, it is useless to cogitate about the past when fate has already decided its course. Be it if there were indeed alternate paths for him to pursue, he was bound to lose you either way. No, this time, he won’t lose you again.
Pulling himself out of the reflection, Heeseung shifts his dark gaze to where you were seen, only to see his best friend alone as he proceeds to wear his helmet, your disappearance denoting that you have entered your apartment building safely. Although Heeseung is envious of Jay for successfully earning himself back into your good grace, he trusts the latter completely in regards to your safety.
Heeseung proceeds to accelerate forward, his motorbike humming with its engine that soon reaches the ears of his best friend, prompting the latter to look over his shoulder just as he is about to pull his visor down. Jay’s dark gaze remains fixated on Heeseung until the latter’s vehicle comes to a halt just two arms length next to where he is.
Without removing his foot from the peg, Heeseung places the other firmly on the ground to stabilise himself and pushes up his visor to gain a clearer vision to read his best friend’s expression, only to be taken aback by Jay’s lack of surprise to see him, almost as if the latter has been more than aware of his presence from afar.
“How long?” Though Jay’s question sounds less elaborative, his tone is all Heeseung needs to know that his best friend meant how long he had been doing this behind their backs. He awaits Heeseung's response as he busily fastens his black fingerless gloves on his hands, his dark gaze never straying from Heeseung’s that levels with his intensity.
“Three months, approximately,” Heeseung answers, completely unfazed by Jay’s annoyance in his sharp gaze. Seeing as Jay is unrelenting, tension brews between them while a challenging glint is present in Heeseung’s dark, hardened eyes. “I’m not going to apologise. All I’ve been doing is keeping her safe from any possible danger and drunkard bastards loitering around this street.”
Jay examines his best friend with calculated eyes before the tension dissipates when a smirk forms on his lips, looking entirely pleased, much to Heeseung’s curiosity. “Don’t get all defensive now, Heeseung. If anything, I’m glad that you still love her enough to keep her safe, even though you’ve been practically stalking her for a long period. So I’m just going to ignore the fact that you didn’t confide in us about this nightly routine of yours.”
“Of course, I still love her. Her safety is my main priority. Besides, I loved her first before any of you even did.” Heeseung’s proclamation is laced with bitterness, to which Jay lets it pass as he doesn’t regard it as a provocation.
“Then why are you still here?” Jay inquires, no longer is there amusement in the way he speaks. Amidst the sternness in his steely eyes, Heeseung recognises the encouragement that should have impelled him to do the right thing. “Shouldn’t you be heading upstairs to her unit and confess your undying love and beg for her forgiveness?”
Heeseung swallows down the cold, bitter truth that keeps crawling its way back to his throat that feels tight. “You’re right. I should, but would she even want to see me now? She looked perfectly fine earlier. I don’t want to ruin her night,” He says ruefully as he cranes his neck to get a better view of your apartment with the lights switched on. “I don’t think she even needs me now that she has the three of you.”
“Heeseung, what the fuck happened to you, man?” Jay scoffs out in disbelief, pulling Heeseung’s attention promptly that has the latter glaring at him, only for him to falter slightly at the disappointment in Jay’s eyes. “I need my best friend back, and right now, you are not him.”
Heeseung’s turn to scoff, his ire coursing through his veins dangerously. “What the fuck do you mean─”
“My best friend would never have given up, especially not on the woman he claimed to love first, and he would never let the woman he loves to wait on him any longer. She deserves better, you know that,” Jay’s fierce conviction resonates with Heeseung to the core, dispelling his despondency. “You said that she looked perfectly fine, but what if she isn’t? What if she actually needs you?”
Silence is all Jay receives from Heeseung, but he is not having any of it, knowing that he needs a little push to get him on the right track. “She needs you too, Heeseung,” Jay’s tone sounds less aggravating, calmer, but firm enough to retain Heeseung’s undivided attention. “As much as I used to loathe the idea of us sharing her, I could never deny the fact that she has always needed the four of us. We could never understand the special connection you have with her, just as you could never understand our individual connection with her, which is why you need to get your shit together and grovel at her feet, quite literally.”
Heeseung stares at Jay differently, as though he is in awe of him. The corner of his lips curves into a faint smirk. “I never knew that Park Jongseong could offer words of wisdom. Y/N’s impact, I believe.”
Jay doesn’t seem to deny it, and instead, a soft smile touches his lips while his eyes hold such fondness at the mention of you before chuckling lightly at the irony since he said something similar to Sunghoon and Jake too. “Being in love can make you a changed man.” The smile on his lips falters as he looks over to Heeseung, his eyes hardened with resolve. “Don’t fuck things up with her again, Heeseung. So man up and chase after the girl you love before she closes her heart to you.”
“I’ll make things right with her, but not tonight.” Heeseung affirms, his tone conveying promises that seem to appease Jay. He cranes his neck to look at your apartment, only for his heart to skip a beat at the sight of you standing by the balcony, gazing out. He returns his gaze to Jay. “You’re up for a night ride?”
Jay adorns a smirk on his lips, his eyes glinting with a familiar challenge before he pulls his visor down and leans forward with both hands latching firmly on the clutches. “Always. Try and keep up with me.” He says with mischief cockiness, earning a soft derisive chuckle from Heeseung.
“You should take your own advice.” Heeseung retorts as he pulls his visor down. He can’t shake the feeling of being watched, and so when he looks up for another time, his heart nearly stops beating when your eyes are fixated on him, your expression unreadable.
Heeseung quickly redirects his focus on the road, his hands on the clutch tightening before he begins rev forward with Jay following suit and eventually, on par with him. The cold vindictive wind hits them as they pick up velocity, and just like that, any prior doubts and worries dissipate from Heeseung’s mind while his self-confidence elevates at the thought of getting his beloved back.
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His surroundings fade into a blur as he rides through the avenue of the intended destination at a meteoric velocity, while the revving of his motorbike that he unintentionally flaunts draws attention from the onlookers roving out and about in the broad daylight. Though his firm eyes are vigilantly focused on the road, his mind momentarily drifts to you, who occupies his every thought day and night.
Initially, Heeseung intended to head over to your apartment just earlier, albeit he did not exactly formulate any plans involving places to go to for an impromptu date, mainly because he was actually jittered at the thought of meeting you up close, but then came a call in regards to a restaurant reservation for lunch from a certain esteemed CEO who oversees all business operations across multiple diversions in the fashion industry in Milan and whose daughter is best friends with you.
Working for the organisation of your best friend’s father is not a coincidence. In fact, Heeseung has done his research involving you and the people you are close with, including Jennifer’s father, whom he knows that you regard the elderly as your father figure. And so he decided to send in his resume to HR. After gruelling rounds of interviews and assessments, his expertise and professionalism managed to secure himself employment under the organisation.
Heeseung rarely brags, but his performances throughout the period he has been working were so outstanding that eventually the CEO himself wanted to informally meet him, and thus, it led to Heeseung being one of his favourite employees. Although this is merely a stepping stone towards his goal, he can’t deny the fact that he feels strongly inclined to earn your father figure’s approval when the time comes for him to pursue you.
Finally reaching his destination, Heeseung parks his motorbike by the pavement kerb, where other vehicles are arrayed as well. Removing his helmet, he smooths his tousled pink hair that looks rather orangey and adjusts the black bomber jacket hugging his body before he wastes no time in hurrying over to the upscale establishment, wanting to get this lunch appointment over with.
As soon as Heeseung walks through the glass door, his sharp eyes scour for a certain businessman in his usual lavish suit, but the elder is quick to spot him first. “Heeseung!”
Heeseung turns his head sideways and locks eyes with him, who is seated at a table with a space that offers more privacy compared to the other tables that look rather congested, and seated next to him is the person who is not entirely in favour of him. Nevertheless, Heeseung makes his way to them.
Just as Heeseung reaches, he intends to greet the elderly with a courtesy bow, but he is taken aback when he is being pulled into a hug briefly. “I’m glad you could make it, son,” Mr. Huh offers him a broad, fatherly smile, patting his shoulder firmly.
Heeseung reciprocates with a small smile, albeit a tight one, as he feels rather annoyed by the fact that your best friend is throwing daggers at him with her eyes. “Of course. I could not miss having lunch with you, Sir,” He says with the utmost sincerity, or at least he tries to.
“Let me introduce you to my daughter!” Mr. Huh looks oddly thrilled as he gestures to his daughter, and in Heeseung’s judgement, he has an inkling that the CEO has ulterior motives that involve match-making them. “This is my daughter, Jennifer. Sweetheart, this is─”
“I know who he is, Dad,” Jennifer interposes sharply, Her unveiling abhorrence for Heeseung is clear in her wintery gaze while she maintains neutrality in her tone, essentially deceiving her father as she offers the taller male an uptight smile. “We went to the same college in Seoul.”
“It’s true, sir,” Heeseung corroborates as soon as he spots a flicker of confusion and surprise in the elder’s eyes. Meeting Jennifer’s wintery eyes again, Heeseung decides to play along with the charade as he reciprocates with a guileful grin. “It’s good to see you again, Jennifer.”
Truthfully, this is not the first time Heeseung has met Jennifer formally at close range, excluding the night of confrontation when she excused herself to head into the guest room in your apartment. The first time he met her was when she stumbled upon him in the headquarters’s lobby while he was waiting for the elevator to arrive during the second week of his employment journey. Since there were other employees, Jennifer did not make any confrontation, but her eyes were glaring at him all the way until he stepped out of the elevator. It was likely that she enquired to her father instead regarding his unexpected arrival here, because from then onwards, Heeseung never saw her again until recently.
Heeseung expected that Jennifer would inform you of his arrival in Milan, most especially being an employee under her father’s organisation, but the genuine horrifying shock on your face told him that she never divulged anything to you, which is rather peculiar. Nevertheless, Heeseung is not curious enough to be entirely bothered by it.
“That’s good, then!” Mr. Huh is more than delighted with a broad smile on his lips, as though he won the lottery, eliciting a mutual confusion from both of them before Jennifer quickly grasps the underlying of his odd enthusiasm. Jennifer stares at his father in sheer disbelief as he directs his attention on Heeseung, patting his shoulder. “You see, my daughter here is so committed to her career that she neglects to find a partner. I had chosen potential suitors for her, but none met her expectations─”
“Dad, don’t start,” Jennifer cuts him off abrasively, casting him a disapproving scowl. “I know what you’re trying to do, and for the ninth time, I have no desire in dating a man,” Her tone indicates no room for debate while she remains unwaveringly poised. Her eyes flicker over to Heeseung briefly as the latter captures a knowing glint in them. “Besides, Heeseung and I could never work out. He already has someone in his heart.”
“And who might that be?” Mr. Huh clasps his hands together, his eyes gleaming with interest and a hint of mischief in the way the corner of his lips curl upward, a stark contrast to his dignified appearance.
His question dissipates at the instant the sound of hurried footsteps approaches their table, diverting their attention to you. “I’m sorry for arriving late. There was a traffic jam in my area.” Annoyance laces your tone before releasing a huff while you remain oblivious to his presence.
Heeseung feels as though he is deprived of oxygen as soon as his eyes land on you. You are adorned in a white spaghetti strap dress that reaches above your knees, while the v-neck design at your chest area accentuates your smooth cleavage. You applied a minimal make-up on your face, which enhances your seraphic beauty. His throat feels oddly parched while his heart beats in familiar cadence. You look beautiful as you always have, but there is an undeniable glow in your refined demeanour that is impossible for him to look away from.
Heeseung definitely did not expect that you would be joining them, but then again, he should feel entirely surprised since you are practically like family to the father-daughter duo.
Jennifer holds back a smirk, noticing how blatantly moonstruck Heeseung looks before pressing her lips thinly into a frown as she returns her gaze to you — well, more like her focus is directed to the black helmet in your grasp. “You rode a motorbike on your way here? Since when did you get your driving license?”
“It’s a long story, but we’ll save that for another time.” You say adamantly, your avoidance at her question is more than apparent, which deepens the frown on Jennifer’s lips, whereas Heeseung has a strong inkling that Jay had chauffeured you here.
Heeseung’s eyes never leave the glow in your demeanour as you offer Mr. Huh a buoyant smile. “Hi, uncle! How was your business trip to Venice?”
“It was lovely, thank you for asking, sweetie,” Mr. Huh wears a gentle smile, gazing fondly at you the way he does to his daughter. As if a lightbulb switches on in his head, he briefly looks over to Heeseung. “I’d like to introduce you to this fine gentleman here. Heeseung, this is Y/N. She’s been best friends with my daughter since childhood.”
Heeseung knows that much, considering you were the one who told him your whole life story before. His dark eyes watch you in a predatory gleam as you slowly turn to him, your body language exhibiting reluctance, almost as if you are daunted by the mention of his name alone.
When you finally lock eyes with him, the radiancy in your demeanour dims while your heart goes into palpitation. You feel a chaotic of emotions at once within you at the sight of the guy you did not expect in the slightest to be mysteriously acquainted with your father figure.
You have no idea what to feel at this moment. Happy? Angry? Sad? Or maybe even turned on? Because he sure as hell looks good decked out in an all-black outfit with his top stretching against his taut muscles and silver-rimmed glasses resting on his nose bridge, which is obviously a mere decoration, but it enhances his compelling charm with his dark predatory eyes locking you in place.
“Dad, Y/N went to the same college as us.” Jennifer’s voice shatters the hypnotic trance you are in, looking away from his gaze, but even then you can feel his invasive eyes burning onto your face.
You nod your head, mustering the fakest smile on your matted lips at your father figure. “Yes. We all know each other. It’s a small world, really.”
“It’s been quite some time, Y/N,” Heeseung’s voice has a seductive drawl only you recognise — a haunting yet velvety caress to your ear. You look at him again and narrow your eyes at his simper smile, almost as if he is enjoying the subtle reaction he elicits from you just by his tantalising allure. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”
“Heeseung,” You decide to reciprocate his courtesy, your lips curving into a small, uptight smile, before taking a seat next to him since it is the only available seat, and you hope not to be affected by the dangerous proximity between you and him.
“Shall we order, then?” Mr. Huh, oblivious to the tension brewing, looks at each of you with a broad smile before calling for the waiter and informing him of your orders.
While waiting for the food to be served, Mr. Huh initiates a conversation that includes the three of you. Throughout the flow, you avoid looking at Heeseung, but the heat radiating from his body is something you can’t ignore. His presence alone is enough to make you feel jittered, which is annoying because, as much as your heart yearns for him, you should be nonchalant about him. When the food has finally been served, you decide to focus on your food, albeit being self-conscious of eating in his presence.
“Ah, how could I forget?” Mr. Huh dabs the white handkerchief on his lips, perfectly poised with dining etiquette like a true businessman. “Heeseung has been part of the organisation as our data research analyst for two months, but he has made a significant contribution to the team with his exceptional skills.”
Though the information is ineffectual to Jennifer, as evident in her facial expression, you nod your head meaningfully at the revelation, your lips pressing thinly together. “I see.” Your tone carries an undercurrent of bitterness. It makes you wonder if Heeseung’s employment under Mr. Huh’s organisation is a mere coincidence or not, because you know Heeseung. There is no such thing as coincidence when it comes to him.
Mr. Huh darts his eyes between you and Heeseung with a flicker of knowingness, now having noticed how unusually awkward and tense you are in his presence. “So, Heeseung,” He clears his throat, his eyes turning serious as he looks at Heeseung. “What do you think of Y/N?”
“Oh my god, Dad!” Jennifer groans loudly, having a dread sense of what her father is up to. She shoots him a withering glare. “First, it was me, now Y/N? You run a major corporation, not a match-making service.”
Mr. Huh simply dismisses her glare with a wave of his hand. “I’m merely asking a harmless question, sweetheart.”
Heeseung contemplates answering his question, but when his eyes linger on your perfect side profile, he feels compelled by your beauty once more and notices that you seem to await his answer expectantly, albeit your countenance appears indifferent, a mask he recognises that has his lips unfurling a smirk.
“I think she's very beautiful, both inside and outside,” Heeseung answers with the utmost sincerity, his velvety voice sounding slightly deeper. His eyes never stray from your face, even as you turn to look at him with your cheeks flaring diffidently. “Just the kind of woman I intend to spend a lifetime with.”
Your heart rate goes rapid while butterflies swarm in every part of you, and the connection between you and him feels palpable as it deepens just by eye contact. You desperately search for any lies in his eyes behind the transparent lenses, but all you see is how undeniably enamoured he is.
Getting lost in those orbs, your reaction delays at the sensation of his fingers nearly succeeding in intertwining with yours, and when you finally gain full alertness at the heat of his touch, you flinch visibly and yank your fingers from his, but your abrupt movement causes your elbow to hit your glass of Shirley Temple, resulting the liquid to drench the lower region of your dress. “Shit!” You hiss, mentally berating yourself for your clumsiness.
Jennifer quickly passes the tissues to you, while Heeseung doesn’t hesitate to help out in wiping the spilled content on the table. “Are you okay?” He asks, genuine concern lacing his tone despite his eyes glinting with amusement at the cuteness of your reaction.
“Yup, just taken aback by your remark. Consider me flattered,” You tell him tersely, forcing out a chuckle while you continue to wipe your wet dress rather aggressively before deciding to get away from him, even if it’s only for a short while. You rise from your seat, giving the father-daughter duo an uptight smile. “I’ll be heading to the washroom. Please excuse me.”
You immediately abandon the table in haste, heading straight for the washroom that is further away. You grimace at the unpleasant stickiness on your dress making contact with your skin whenever you walk. Once you reach inside the washroom, you proceed to wash the lower region of your dress, hoping that it wouldn’t leave a stain while you regret wearing a white dress out of all the days.
Unfortunately, it leaves a stain even after you wash it thoroughly. You begin to grumble under your breath while attempting to dry it with the tissue. You can’t believe that his words impacted you greatly more than they should. Heaving a defeated sigh, you proceed to depart from the washroom, embracing the fact that you might have to tolerate the charade a little longer.
As soon as you step outside, your heart jumps in surprise as you stagger back at the sight of Heeseung standing outside of the washroom with his back leaning against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. “Heeseung, you scared me,” You mutter, faltering as his eyes roam around your body.
“Your dress,” Heeseung points out as the frown on his lips deepens upon seeing the noticeable stain on the material.
“It’s fine. It’ll go away once I wash it with detergent,” You say assuringly, though you have no idea why you do so as you look down at your dress, grimacing. “I hope.”
Receiving no response from him, you look up, only to be flabbergasted at the close proximity as he towers over your figure, his impassive face unreadable. “W-What are you doing?” You stutter, temperature rising in your cheeks as you watch him remove his black bomber jacket.
You don’t have the opportunity to marvel at his biceps muscles as he is adorned in a black sleeveless top when he leans down closer to you, causing you to hold your breath, expecting what you are thinking, only to feel a tinge of disappointment when his intent is to wrap his jacket around your waist. Still, your heart remains a fluttery mess at the close proximity with his strong woody cologne hitting your nostril.
Heeseung catches your eyes fleetingly as soon as he finishes tying a knot securely before leaning away from you, smirking faintly as he notices your tensed body relaxes. “There. You won’t have to worry about others seeing the stain on your dress anymore.”
You clear your throat awkwardly, looking everywhere but his eyes. “What you said earlier,” You murmur, a frown pulling down on your lips. “Did you mean them?”
“I meant every single word,” Heeseung takes you by surprise when he grabs your wrist and positions your palm to rest on his chest, allowing you to feel his heart beating rapidly like yours while his tone conveys a solemnity. “Can you feel it? The way my heart beats for you now is just the same as it was.”
Even as he is holding you, his grip feels familiarly reverent, causing your heart to ache, and his chest feels solid beneath your touch. You curl your fingers into a fist as every bit of your resolve is close to crumbling. “We should go─”
“Spend the day with me,” Heeseung cuts you off in a silent plea, compelling you to look at him and recognising the determination behind those lenses. “I want to bring you to places, if you allow me.”
“Just because I accepted your best friends, it doesn’t mean that I’ve accepted you,” Though your resolve remains tenacious, your tone wavers at the dejection dimming in his eyes. You release a soft sigh, not realising that you have grown accustomed to his touch on your skin. “Give me time, Hee. You owe me that. And if I’m being honest, a part of me still feels overwhelmed by all of this.”
“I know I owe you much, but I can’t give you time. Every second, every minute without you is insanity,” Heeseung refuses to back down, one of the qualities you have always admired about him. He tucks a fallen lock behind your ear tenderly while his firm eyes never leave yours. “You can hate me all you want, but don’t think for a second that I would ever let you go this time.”
Seeing as he is just as determined as his best friends, a layer of what you built to protect your resolve peeled against your will. “Okay, I’ll spend the day with you.” You eventually concede, but the wariness on your face remains. “Just don’t make me regret my decision.”
In an instant, Heeseung pulls you along with him, heading back to the table with his fingers intertwined with yours that you surprisingly allow. But then realisation hits you as you look at the back of his head, your eyes bewildered. “Wait, now? Hee, we can’t just ditch them. It’ll be rude─” You immediately smack your lips shut as soon as you arrive at the table.
“Girl,” Jennifer doesn’t bother to conceal her surprise as she gasps audibly, her eyes zero in on your intertwined fingers. You can only offer her an indecisive smile before looking over to Mr. Huh, who looks surprised but then comes his delight that gleams in his eyes.
Heeseung’s composure is unwavering as he meets the elder’s eyes. “I apologise for my discourtesy when I say this, Sir, but may I─”
“You may,” Mr. Huh’s swift permission comes off as a surprise to you as he gives Heeseung a firm head nod before he cracks a knowing smile. “I may be an old man, but even a blind person could see how infatuated you were, son. I could tell that you two had history, so go ahead. You already have my blessings.”
“Thank you, Sir. I’ll take good care of Y/N,” Heeseung says with conviction, his grip on your hand a silent promise. He meets your eyes briefly and receives a nod of confirmation from you before he grabs his backpack and hangs it around his shoulder, whereas you grab your sling purse and your black helmet that was gifted by Jay.
You bid your goodbyes to the father-daughter duo with a sheepish smile before Heeseung finally pulls you with him as he guides you the way to the glass door without releasing your hand. You can’t suppress the giddiness that bubbles in your chest as you observe how endearingly eager Heeseung is in the way he haste in his steps, finally reaching to his sleek black Ducati Panigale V2.
You can feel his reluctance as he slowly releases your hand. “Can you be my backpack girl, beloved?” The endearment rolls down his tongue naturally, forgetting that he might make you feel uncomfortable by pushing things fast.
But you don’t seem the slightest bothered by it while your face betrays none of the delightful flutters in your chest. You simply nod your head before initiating your offer as you extend your hand to him, which he proceeds to pass you his backpack.
You notice his eyes keep darting at the helmet in your grasp. “Jay bought it for me as an advance gift for when I passed my driving license,” You say, as if you can read the question lingering on his mind.
Heeseung raises his eyebrow, intrigued and surprised. He holds your stare for a few minutes before breaking into soft chuckles that sound annoyingly melodious in your ears. A frown touches your lips despite your heart being a fluttery mess at the sight of his pearly white teeth on display as he continues to chuckle. “What is so funny?”
Heeseung immediately calms down, but a smirk plays on his lips. “Nothing. It’s just that you used to be afraid of riding a motorbike, but now look at you,” His eyes soften wistfully, allaying your niggling annoyance. “I’m going to miss you being my backpack girl.”
“I’ll still be your backpack girl, even after I earn my driving license,” You blurt out without the intention to reassure him once again. You decide to feign obliviousness to the words that left your lips as you clear your throat. “Let’s just get going.”
But Heeseung is not about to let it go. “So does that mean you’ll allow me to bring you out often with my motorbike from now onwards?”
The corner of your lips curls into a faint smile as you look down at your helmet. “Maybe. Unless you have another backpack girl….” You drawl, attempting at nonchalance, but the bitterness colouring your tone gives way to the hinted jealousy.
Heeseung grabs your hand as well as your attention. “You’re my only backpack girl, like you always have been, beloved,” He declares, smiling softly at you before giving you a tender kiss on your knuckle, which sends you the electrifying spark to your skin.
You retract your hand to keep yourself busy wearing your helmet. “Earlier, you said places, so, where will you be taking me first?”
“Since it’s a date, how do you feel about watching a movie?” He asks, receiving a small smile of approval from you in return. Just like that, your cooperation kindles hope in him.
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The luminescence of the animated screen illuminates the cinema that has surprisingly many vacancies, with only another couple and a small group of friends occupying the seats far from where you and Heeseung are. The ongoing movie of ‘Deadpool & Wolverine’ that has you hooked eventually attenuates your interest, prompting you to direct your attention elsewhere until your eyes land on him.
You should be looking away from him before you fall deeper into his allure that constantly serenades you, but it is impossible to do so when he has a divine side profile with his perfect sculpted nose and smooth jawline, pink lips that are absent of his wonted silver ring, and his dreamy eyes glueing to the screen attentively. Swarming butterflies remain in their wake in your tummy once more. You hate how undeniably handsome he is, and yet a part of you wishes to wake up to his face every day and night.
It seems that Heeseung feels your burning stare on his face as he turns his head with an eyebrow arched. You look away, feigning interest in the movie as you shove the last of your popcorn into your mouth aggressively while your cheeks flush in embarrassment. Thankfully, he doesn’t tease you or make any remark, though you can see his lips unfurling an amused grin from your peripheral vision.
Long minutes have passed, and your boredom has reached its peak as you slowly slump in your seat. His jacket that was once wrapped around your waist is now served to provide you some warmth against the frigidity that permeates the entirety of the cinema, and while it is big on your figure, you have sought comfort and discreetly basked in his scent that clings to his jacket, but little did you know that he has noticed how occasionally you would snuggle in his jacket like a kitten, which he found endearing.
Heeseung has long noticed that you are feeling restless, to which he feels unsatisfactory that this movie date is not going smoothly as he imagined. With his eyes flickering to your pouty lips, he leans forward until he stops next to your ear. “Do you want to get out of here?” He asks in a murmur, startling you at how deep his voice is.
A frown pulls at your lips while every fibre of your being vehemently agrees that you should. “But the movie isn’t over. Besides, you already paid for this, so we can’t just let your money go to waste.”
“And you’re clearly not enjoying this,” Heeseung points out, his tone dripping with dissatisfaction that is not directed at you but rather at himself. He releases a breath, his fingers running through his hair. “I should’ve picked other movies that were more to your liking.”
“It’s okay. I’m not a big fan of movies anyway,” Your reassurance does nothing to relieve him. Your eyes briefly flicker down at his long, slender fingers that are adorned with rings, resisting the strong urge to hold them. “Seriously, Heeseung, it’s fine. You love watching Marvels, so as long as you enjoy watching the movie, then it’s not an issue for me.”
Heeseung shakes his head, his stern eyes holding yours in place. “Today is all about you, sweetheart,” He insists softly, his gentle tone feeling like a velvet stroke in your ear. “So please be selfish; be selfish with me. Let me know which places you want me to drive you to, or even the things that capture your eyes. I’ll pay for them,” He doesn’t hesitate to hold your hand tenderly before raising it up to kiss your fingertips while he holds your stare. “I’ll even pluck the stars, the sun, or even the moon; just say the word, love.”
You can’t help but to break into giggles, forgetting your resolve in resisting Heeseung and his charms for as long as you can. “You can’t do that. It’s impossible unless you want something catastrophic to happen on earth.”
“Then we’ll have to migrate to Mars, or maybe Venus. Any planet of your choice, love,” Heeseung muses, enjoying your delightful reaction as you continue to giggle before you immediately compose yourself, though the smile on your lips remains. “But I’m serious when I say I’ll grant you whatever you desire. Just say the word.”
You chew on your bottom lip as you contemplate that it doesn't even last for a few minutes before you lower your gaze and tug at his finger diffidently. “I want to get out of here, Hee.”
“As you wish, my beloved,” Heeseung tugs at your hand gently, a signal you recognise that prompts you to rise from your seats before he proceeds to pull you with him to head for the exit. Not once did he release your hand, even as you finally passed by the cinema box office.
Navigating your way to where he parked his motorbike as you walk on the pavement, Heeseung comes to an abrupt stop when a florist booth piques his interest. Your face contorts into confusion as he drags you into the booth where there are a variety of different flowers being sold at a decent price. Your heart skips a beat as you watch him decisively choose a rose.
“A rose for my lady,” Heeseung says, his lips gracing a smile as he passes the amount of cash to the salesperson while your cheeks feel warmer at his words.
“You two look lovely together,” The salesperson, whose age looks around your mother’s, remarks with a fond smile. “May your relationship continue to blossom beautifully.”
“Thank you,” Heeseung expresses his gratitude with a smile before shifting his attention with the rose in his hand extending to you. “For you, beloved.”
You have always known that Heeseung was the epitome of romance, and right now in this moment, everything feels authentically romantic. “You didn’t have to,” You mutter as you meekly accept the rose, feeling deeply touched by the gentlemanly gesture that is honestly a bare minimum, but enough to send your heart into palpitation. God, you are down bad for this man.
“So, any places you have in mind that you want to go to?” Heeseung asks gently as he intertwines your fingers, making your way to his motorbike. You nod your head in response before informing him of the very place you have on your wish-list.
The journey to your desired destination takes about forty-five minutes, and time flies fast because soon you find yourself entering the renowned Milan’s Castello Sforzesco, a Renaissance fortress that was built in the middle of the 15th century. Not only is it monumental, but it showcases cultural and artistic heritage within a stunning and historic architectural setting. Of course, as expected, your favourite is the water fountain that is situated outside near the entrance.
All the while you have been preoccupied appreciating real structural arts, Heeseung is not far behind you as he follows you quietly and patiently, admiring the sincerity of your wonderment in the world of arts and history. In between, you blabber to him about facts and whatnot, albeit you seem mindless, rendering him impressed by your discovery and history that you acquired while he listens attentively at every word you speak.
You spend nearly an hour and a half before you decide to let him choose the next destination, and you eventually find yourself seated behind him on his motorbike with your arms around his waist, holding onto your valuable life as he speeds on the highway, occasionally revving since he knows that you actually love when he does it. You let your inhibition go, leaning your head on his broad dependant back as you appreciate this moment, hoping that it’ll last.
Soon enough, your riding escapade comes to an end, but the adrenaline rush from the prior speed is present in the course of your veins. He has brought you to the famous Navigli Pavese Canal, which the place reminds you of when Jake rented a whole boat as you watched the gorgeous sunset with him.
With your elbows leaning on the railing, the wind gently blows in your hair, casting a cinematic beauty that has his eyes compelled to you while you continue to gaze out at the heavenly view of the blue and golden firmament. But the semblance of tranquilly shatters as the question resurfaces on your mind, and just like that, you are harshly being pulled out of your reverie.
You look over to him as he stands closely next to you, his back leaning against the railing while his arms fold across his chest, a faraway look in his eyes. You don’t want to possibly ruin this whole date, but you can’t hold back any longer. “How did you know I’d be meeting Jen and her dad?”
Your voice is quiet, but your tone is enough for him to discern that things are about to get gravely serious. “I didn’t,” He says calmly.
When he catches your accusatory gaze, he feels his heart sinking. “But you didn’t look surprised to see me,” You point out, recalling the way he looked at you.
“Trust me, I was just as surprised as you were,” He states emphatically, panic twinging in his chest as he notices the eventual distance you put between the two of you. “If I had known you’d be coming, I would’ve planned a proper date for you in advance.”
“That’s the thing, Heeseung. I never needed a date, and bringing me out on a date doesn’t erase what happened.” Frustration begins to simmer within you in the way you speak. Just like that, the past dominates the vulnerable corners in your mind, resulting in you overlooking his efforts, his humour, and his romantic gestures that dissipate from your mind.
“Did you tell this to my best friends as well? Or are you playing favourites?” His shoulders and jaw are taut with tension while a bitter resentment adulterates his once-mellow voice. A frown pulls at the corners of your lips, but before you can defend yourself, he cuts you off sharply, and yet there is an undercurrent of agony. “I’ve always known that you favour them most over me, and you know what’s unfair? It’s the fact that I noticed you first before they even did. I loved you first, Y/N.”
Getting overwhelmed by a myriad of emotions going erratic within you, his mere declaration of love incenses you. “You’re lying. You're a liar, Hee,” You say with vehemence, refusing to believe a word from him as you shake your head. “You didn’t even know me, and yet, you loved me first? That wasn’t love.”
It is as though Heeseung unveils the darkness that has always etched on his soul, making him look like an entirely different person, borderline degenerate while the air around you shifts with palpable intensity. “You were mine, Y/N. You’ve always been mine since the moment you stepped foot into the auditorium during freshman year.”
“Stop,” You grit your teeth as he predatorily backs you up, sending a wave of familiar intoxication to you, and yet a part of you desires to be consumed by the darkness he wields.
Heeseung is unrelenting in his resolve, pinning you with the smouldering intensity of his gaze. “I claimed you first, Y/N. I needed to wait for the right time to officially make you mine, and I waited for so long,” A glinting obsession is present in his penetrating eyes, while a profound yearning is punctuated in each syllable. “I was consumed by everything about you. Every single thing. I wanted you, and I needed you so desperately, but you were nearly unattainable.”
“That wasn’t love, Hee! It's an obsession!” You exclaim, releasing your aggravating emotions like a torrent. Your glazed eyes flicker with hurt as you shake your head. “You were obsessed with me, you know that.”
“Does it really matter whether or not I was obsessed with you?” A humourless chuckle leaves his lips. “It doesn’t change the fact that I loved you, and I’m still fucking in love with you.”
“It’s a hopeless love, Hee!” You say exasperatedly, suppressing the rivulets from shattering your composure, though your body is trembling with lament. “For a year I wasn’t there by your side; you clinged hopelessly onto that love when you should’ve let go! You should’ve let me go!”
“I couldn’t. I could never afford to,” His voice is saturated with devastation, but vehement enough for you to grasp the gravity of the onslaught of his declaration. He clenches his fist, hating how far you are despite the closing proximity. “I’d rather die than to let you go.”
“What if you hadn’t found me? Would you still cling onto that love?” The back of your eyes begins to burn while the tremor in your voice denotes your tenacity at your resolve is teetering. Your jaw clenches as you look away from him. “No. You would’ve already found someone else.”
“You’re wrong. I would never find somebody else because no one is worthy of my love and heart except you. No one can ever be compared to you, Y/N.” His voice mellows with poignancy and adoration, and the sensation of his fingers caressing your cheek tenderly pulls your attention back to him while a wistful smile touches his lips. “That night at the bar where I followed you a year ago, do you still remember what I told you when you tried to push me away again?”
Of course, you remember. You remember every memory you had with him, with all of them, and those memories are etched deeply in your mind. Somehow, you have an inkling that he wants to hear that specific dialogue he spoke to you with passion. “You said that we’re never over.” Your voice barely above a whisper as you become enthralled by his beautiful dark eyes.
He cradles your face, his thumb stroking your smooth cheek gently. “And?”
“And you’ve given me your heart since you first saw me.” You recite mechanically as the memory plays on your mind. You swallow a painful lump in your throat before continuing, “You said that I own you, your body, your heart, and your soul.”
A faint, bitter smile briefly appears on his lips. “Imagine the torment I went through after I found out that you left me.” Your heart aches at the loss of his warmth on your skin, only to be taken aback when his stature shrinks as you watch him with your heart pounding harder against your chest as he finally gets down on his knee, sheer devotion on his countenance. “You were my everything, Y/N. I dedicated my life to you and only you. Without you, I’m nothing, love.”
“Hee,” Your lips tremble as you utter his name, and your eyes glisten with tears as he grabs your hand to place a gentle kiss on your knuckle before holding it reverently in his.
“I was never a man of apology, and I couldn’t give a damn about giving the bare minimum to anyone but you,” He confesses, his tone carrying a genuine sincerity that weakens the remnants of your resolve. “There was never a day that went by without the memory of you crying and screaming at us on that rainy night resurfacing in my mind, and the look on your face broke me all over,” His voice shakes with the emotions he grappled with, and his eyes glaze with an immense regret. He plants a deep, affectionate kiss on your palm before repositioning your hand to cradle his cheek, while the rawness of his love in the way he looks at you springs tears well in your eyes. “I’m so, so sorry, my love. I should’ve done so much to protect your heart, but instead, I hurt you. I should've been clearer with my intention and love towards you.”
“I thought you didn’t love me. I thought you were just keeping me around for your own pleasure, so that’s why you were always showering me with so much affection,” You divulge to him one of your innermost doubts as you hold back a sob while the hurt and devastation on your delicate features seem to break his heart all over. “I thought your main goal was to break me when I thought you did. I spent days and nights crying in my bedroom and wondering what I did to deserve it when I thought you were responsible.”
“I never wanted to break you, Y/N,” His honest confession penetrates into your essence deeply. “The preying was just a pathetic excuse for me to get closer to you, to break down the walls you built to protect yourself from the depravity, from us.” His eyes display a glistening vulnerability while his voice sounds raw with saturating emotions that has your heart twisting in agony before a fallen teardrop slides down your cheek. “All I ever wanted was to be yours, beloved.”
“I wanted to be yours too, Hee, even when I knew that you were bad for me,” You confess earnestly as you softly weep, and alas, your resolve dissipates like it never existed. He leans into your touch that oozes with your affection for him. “It was killing me how there were no labels when you treated me like you really loved me.”
“I did love you, and I still love you, Y/N Kang. I’m sorry for being too late,” He smiles sadly as he places his hand on top of yours before pinning your nearly faltering attention with the steel of determination and devotion in his eyes. “I’ll spend a lifetime to make up for the things I did that hurt your feelings, and I’ll spend forever to prove to you how irrevocably in love I am with you and always will be.”
Though your once-wounded heart has opened up to him, unsought doubt appears in the back of your mind. “Am I even worth your time for you to spend on forever?”
“You are worth every second, my beloved,” His reassurance feels like a safety blanket cocooning you, and his gesture of affection touches your heart deeply as he kisses your knuckle again before looking back at you with hopeful anticipation. “Let’s go. There is one last place I must show you.”
“And what place is that?” You ask in a whisper while your heart races in keen anticipation.
His pink lips unfurl a genuine, gentle smile. “A place where we’ll spend our future together.”
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By the time Heeseung navigates through the familiar district that will soon be theirs to dominate, the sun makes its descent to welcome the dusk, casting pink and purple hues in the breathtaking firmament that has you admire appreciatively until the boulevard of towering trees diverts your attention to the road before noticing not a single sight of a diversely structured mansion unlike earlier, which you felt as though you had entered the domain of where billionaires reside.
A frown gently pulls at your lips, confusion and curiosity swirling in your head before an unsought qualm arises, polluting your every good thought of the man who you are holding onto for security as he speeds through this uncharted territory, which you know that he would never bestow malevolence on you, but your body remains tensing.
Heeseung, who feels the tension taut in your arms as you have them wrapped around his waist, unlatches his grip on the clutch for his hand to reach behind and instinctively rub the side of your thigh in a soothing motion while the other remains in controlled stability of the velocity of his vehicle.
His thoughtful gesture that sends you a fluttery sensation instantly dispelled your qualm as well as the tension in your fibre ebbs. Your arms loosen slightly around him, denoting your silent trust and comfort in him that has his heart swell with honour.
As you feel the velocity waning, you know that you are nearly reaching your destination, and your presumption is proven correct when you peek over his broad shoulder to see what awaits you, only to be rendered astonished as your lips part open at the grand building that looks divinely like a palace to be called a mansion before a wave of deja vu hits you, reminding you of the palace in Seoul that held memories.
You are pulled out of the trance as soon as the vehicle comes to a stop on the concrete cobblestones, where you are facing not only the stupendous mansion but also the grandeur of water fountains situated in the vast front yard. With Heeseung’s assistance, he offers his arm for you to hold onto as you carefully dismount his motorbike before he follows suit.
Even as you are flimsily unfastening your helmet to hurriedly remove it from your head, excitement bubbles within you as you maintain a neutral facade, but your eyes tell him all he needs to know as he has been anticipating your reaction ever since he decided to introduce you to where your future with them awaits.
Your eyes sparkle in amazement amidst the glinting curiosity as you soak in the visual modernisation beauty that encompassed this unknown estate into your memory that has you feeling rather envious of whoever is the owner.
All the while, Heeseung silently watches you with an attentive gaze, and yet he is in awe of your beauty under these lights with your scintillating eyes still appraising the area, particularly the water fountains, before you look over to Heeseung with a puzzled expression. “Whose place is this?”
“It’s ours, my love,” You want to doubt his words, because there is not in any way his words implied or included you, but the mellow sincerity in his tone as well as the smile on his lips conquer your doubts. “Ours, and that includes you.”
Heeseung continues, his eyes looking over to the mansion. “The construction was completed last week, but the guys and I will be taking our time to move in since our lease over the penthouse will be ending in three months time,” He explains methodically before shifting his attention to you, only for his eyes to soften at how delicate you look with a glass of vulnerability in your eyes. “We wanted to be where you were, and since you’re living in Milan for good, we collectively agreed to build our future here with you.”
“The fountains,” You utter softly, trying not to waver in the way you speak, albeit your throat hurts from repressing a bundle of emotions that threatens to implode while your attention remains fixated on the running water fountains with waves of nostalgia hitting you, each wave impacting you harder than the previous. “They look like the ones at the palace in Seoul.”
“I knew how much you loved the palace fountains in Seoul, so I had Sunghoon and his expertise as an architect cooperate with our contractors,” He says, his voice mellowing with a careful gentleness as he observes you while he slowly advances towards you. His lips unfurl a crooked yet charming smile. “I wanted you to feel like you’re back at home, even if you already felt like it before all of this.”
You are sincerely at a loss for words, unable to articulate your feelings into coherent sentences. Heeseung seems to be waiting patiently for you, and for that you are thankful to him, thankful that he even bothered to remember what you loved, even if it had been a long year, causing the dam to finally break. Tears immediately spring to your waterline as you choke back a sob, your glistening eyes meeting him with tears cascading down your cheeks.
Heeseung doesn’t hesitate to close the distance before cupping your wet cheeks. “My beloved, why are you crying?” He asks gently, his lips pulling down into a frown and his eyes turning crestfallen. “I hate seeing you cry because of me again.”
“Because you remembered,” You manage to utter through soft sobs, hating how you feel extremely emotional over his remembrance of your fondness towards the water fountains in Seoul, but it deeply touches your heart.
“Of course, I remembered,” He mutters as he affectionately wipes the relentless tears away from your cheeks while a wistful smile touches his lips faintly. “How could I have forgotten when I always watched you playing at the fountains and how you ended up dragging me along with you to splash water at me?” A broken chuckle manages to escape you as your sobs eventually quieten. “How could I have forgotten the things my beloved loved so much?”
The loss of his warmth on your cheeks makes your heart ache as you yearn for his warmth to embrace you, but you remain silent, observing him as he looks down prompts you to follow his gaze before spotting a black-inked tattoo on his skin under his forearm.
“You got a new tattoo,” You point out in awe, though you actually had noticed it earlier, but you didn’t think of it too much since you thought wrongly that he always had that tattoo. You feel rather guilty for not remembering his details just this soon.
“It’s not just any tattoo, beloved,” He adorns a soft, sweet smile on his face, looking at you with adoring affection as you touch his tattoo gently. “It’s your birth date.
“But why?” Your voice trembles with emotions that you know about to make you a sobbing mess again, but you grapple with them. Though your heart is fluttering at his declaration, you still eye him with exasperation. “You know that it won’t come off if there is ever a moment you might find yourself regretting my birth date tattooed on your skin.”
But Heeseung doesn’t look in the slightest rue, as though this resolve has long since been established in the back of his mind. “Because it serves as a reminder to me that the birth of your existence was when my whole universe was created.” He says shakily, allowing his feelings to seep through the cracks of his once-unwavering facade. “You are my life, Y/N, and I wouldn’t regret a single thing when it comes to you.”
“Even if I make you angry or sad?” You prod to seek clarity for your own assurance despite the fact that you are close to weeping with unrelenting tears that remain welling in your waterline.
“Yes, my beloved,” He places a deep, tender kiss on your palm for a little longer with his eyes fluttering closed, as though to savour your scent and warmth, before positioning your palm to cradle his cheek as he gazes into your eyes affectionately.
“You could hurt me, break my heart into pieces over and over, and I wouldn’t regret anything. I would never regret you.”
A fallen teardrop rolls down your cheek as you deepen your cradle on his cheek for him to lean into your touch, his tender gaze holding yours with unwavering devotion. “I don’t want you to hurt me again, and I don’t want you to abandon me like you did when I needed you those nights.” You tell him in such desperation.
“Tell me more, love,” He murmurs, grabbing your wrist gently to pull it down and holding your hand close to his chest reverently while his eyes hold resolve of determination. “Tell me what you want. I’ll make them come true.”
“I want you to hold me close like you did. I want you to reassure me when I’m in distress," A hiccup leaves your lips, earning a fond smile from him. “I want you to need me like I need you.”
“My beautiful love, I’ve always needed you,” He confesses earnestly, his heart pounding with a palpable yearning as it senses the remnant shards of coldness dissipate in yours. He caresses your cheek tenderly, his touch contradicting his urgency to consume you once more. “Permission to kiss you?”
You nod your head, unable to utter a word, as you feel an overwhelming need for him to claim you like he did before. His eyes glint with dissatisfaction at your nonverbal response before he firmly grips your chin and tilts your head up, causing your breath to hitch at how his eyes gradually darken with inexplicable emotions. “I need words, pretty girl.”
You ignore the way his deep voice ignites a certain arousal within you. You tug at the hem of his sleeveless top, your fingers curling as they clutch the material while your eyes gleam with the same yearning that parallels his. “Please kiss me,” You plead in a soft utterance.
Without further ado, Heeseung leans in as he closes the gap between your faces while your eyes flutter close before his lips meet yours in a shared tenderness as he kisses you softly. Sparks fly behind your closed vision, and you can even feel them everywhere around you while butterflies in your tummy become tenfold at how he seems to be taking his own sweet time kissing you, but soon, the eventual passion comes as he pulls you closer with his arms snaking around your waist.
The passion turns fierce, one that is addictive as you hook your arms around his neck before you deepen the kiss that you have yearned for. The pressure of his touch is unabating, a constant reminder of his desire and love for you, and yet you can discern a layer of possessiveness as he gradually tightens his arms around you.
Feeling breathless, you attempt to pull away from the much-needed kiss, but he chases for your lips vehemently, successfully capturing them before his teeth sink into your bottom lip, prompting you to willingly part open your mouth for him to dominate your hot cavern with his wet muscle that has you moaning airily into his mouth.
He groans at your taste and your sensual sound while his bulge hardens against the confine, making it more noticeable. He presses his bulge into you, to which you feel him below your tummy, eliciting a soft gasp from you. “Hee,” You pant lightly as soon as he breaks the lip lock.
Heeseung catches your eyes swirling with palpable desire and need that mirrors his, with the only exception of his eyes darkening dangerously as the air around you remains laden with intensity. “You’re right. Not here,” His voice sounds huskier, going straight into your core.
But just before Heeseung can bring you somewhere to continue where you left off, you tug at his hand diffidently, feeling oddly demure as your eyes waver at the eye contact with him. “Can we play at the fountain and dance silly there like old times?”
His heart soars at how undeniably adorable yet beautiful you are, so how could he ever resist you? And so, with his jacket and your bags being abandoned on the ground, the only sound of sheer delight emanates from you, enlivening the ambience under the night that has dawned as he is finally reunited with you.
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You and Heeseung spent nearly an hour at the water fountains, too immersed in your own world after releasing your inhibitions, whereas he entertained you with a sense of commitment, especially seeing the joy beamed on your face. He would do anything to keep you smiling and laughing infectiously like earlier.
Presently, you are at one of the fancy gazebos, and yes, you are still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that there are four gazebos situated in the massive backyard. Just before this, Heeseung decided to give you a tour around the backyard since he didn’t bring his keys to the mansion.
To say you were surprised at the amenities in the backyard would be an understatement. Not only are there gazebos, but also a barbeque patio that is adjacent to the swimming pool, a whole garage building solely made to store their vehicles with a private gym on the second level, water fountains that are smaller than the ones in the front yard, four gazebos at different corners, and because the terrain is hilly, one of the gazebos provides an exquisite view of the central urban area, which is especially beautiful at night.
Keeping yourself warm, you wrap your arms around your shivering figure as you lean your lower back against the balustrade, watching as Heeseung heads over to you with a familiar black jacket in his grasp. Since the water in the fountain was extremely cold, you can feel it chilling deep into your bones. Plus, your dress is wholly drenched, amplifying the coldness as the material sticks to your skin.
You immediately drop your arms to your side, feigning unaffected by the cold while your figure remains shivering despite your efforts to be subtle, not wanting him to worry and fuss over you. You cast him a small smile as soon as he reaches you, his face is now bare of the spectacle he wore earlier.
“Are you sure you’re not cold?” Heeseung asks for another time as he scrutinises you with a glinting knowingness in his eye. He is not oblivious to the goosebumps arising on your skin, and you seem to constantly shiver.
“Positive,” You insist again, but it is futile as he drapes his dry jacket over your shoulders instead of him wearing it. “Hee, I’m fine,” Nevertheless, you feel thankful for his thoughtful gesture, as the jacket is sufficient enough to provide a barrier from preventing the nightly breeze.
“I don’t want my beloved to fall sick,” He tells you sternly with a frown on his face, but you know that he is just worried about you. Your heart flutters as he caresses your cold cheek. “We shouldn’t have played at the fountain.”
You have no regrets anyway. It was all worth it for old time’s sake. “If I fall sick, you’ll take care of me, right?” You ask, adorning a cheeky grin on your lips while he only gazes at you fondly.
“I’ll always take care of you,” His tone carries a firm promise, and his eyes convey solemnity that reassures you before they dart down at your untied shoelaces. “You’re my responsibility now, sweetheart.”
“Heeseung?” You blurt out in confusion as he kneels in front of you, watching as he proceeds to tie your shoelaces while the temperature on your cheeks rises. “This is the second time you’re kneeling.”
“For you, I will get down on my knees for as long as you want me to. It’s what you deserve after what happened,” He says after tying your shoelaces in firm knots before looking up at you, his eyes softening with adoration and a dark glinting lust. He grabs your hand to place a sensual kiss on your fingertip. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. You’re meant to be worshipped by me. My only goddess in the universe.”
You nearly fall weak at his cheesy yet fluttering words that impact your heart greatly. Your eyes remain on him as he slowly rises from the ground, curiosity swirling in your eyes when he slides his hand into his pocket before revealing a silver ring that is connected to the necklace, similar to the one hooked around his neck with your purity ring resting on his chest.
Heeseung stares at the ring on his palm with a rueful smile touching his lips. “A year ago, I bought this ring during the dark period of your life in the hopes of reconciling with you, and I waited so cowardly until after Jungwon told me that they told you the entire truth,” He divulges to you as the rawness of regret and pain in his eyes springs tears in your waterline. “But I was too late by then because you left, and I’ve never hated myself more from then onwards.”
“And you didn’t throw it away, even when you thought you wouldn’t find me,” You utter softly as you look down at the ring with glassy eyes. It is the little things that make your heart ache tremendously, and yet it is a good ache that coupled with the flutters. You return your gaze to him, causing his heart to beat in a familiar cadence at the transparency of love in your beautiful eyes.
“I could never throw away anything that reminds me of you,” He tells you honestly, wearing a soft smile that melts you on the inside all over. “Turn around, my love.”
You comply and remove the jacket from your body before turning around as you grab your hair in a makeshift ponytail to provide him assistance. Your heart pounds harder against your chest at the heat radiating his body from behind you as he stands closely before he proceeds to clasp the necklace around your neck with the cold platinum ring resting on your chest.
Shivers run down your spine as he places a tender kiss on your bare shoulder with his hands on your waist. “Do you like it?” He asks softly, his voice sounding slightly huskier and deeper with a discernible sensuality that intensifies the butterflies in your tummy.
“I love it,” You emphasise in appreciation as you hold the ring with your fingers to examine the details of the ring, only to feel your heart soaring as you spot letters engraved on the ring. My only love - H “I truly love it. I love everything, including you. Thank you, Hee,” Your voice barely above a whisper, but he catches the earnest gratitude in your tone.
With his hands on your hips, he turns you around and examines every nuance in your delicate countenance with the deepest affection. “No, beloved. I should be the one thanking you. Thank you for existing in the same lifetime as me,” He says with solemnity as he grabs your chin gently before leaning forward to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I can’t imagine my life without my beautiful love.”
You can’t resist yourself from latching your arms around him, your body trembling from both the cold and the onslaught of emotions as you bury your face into his chest despite his top still drenched. He releases breathy yet endearing chuckles as he reciprocates your hug wholeheartedly. His embrace feels warm and provides you with a protective layer against the cold breeze.
Comfortable silence cocoons you as you seek solace in each other’s embrace, savouring for a little longer while you listen to his heart beating rapidly that consonance with yours, creating a silent yet discernible symphony of your feelings towards one another.
You slowly pull away from the hug, but your arms remain locked around him as you tilt your head up to meet his tender eyes. “Kiss me, Hee,” You plead in a soft command, earning you a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.
Without a word, Heeseung dips his head down and kisses you squarely on the lips while his arms loosen around your waist for his hands to journey to your hips. His touch feels sensual and possessive, in complete par with the way he kisses you that has your arousal stirring in the heat of your core.
The tension is palpable, while closeness feels electrifying, with your hands feeling up his body from his lower abdomen to his toned chest, appreciating that his drenched top allows you to feel his muscles distinctly beneath your touch. The pace of the kiss eventually turns into a fusion of fervent passion and need as he seeks you hungrily, borderline ravenous, electrifying the heated tension that clings hotly onto your bodies.
Without breaking the passionate lip lock, Heeseung slowly backs you up with his hands on your hips, confidently guiding you until you feel the pillar come into contact with your back. Sensing that you need to gasp for air, his tongue licks at the seams of your lips, prodding into your entrance gently yet firm with urgency and prompting you to welcome him as you part open your lips.
The warmth of his tongue meets yours in a practised, sensual tango he initiates, intensifying the heat that courses through every fibre of your being while his grip on your hips tightens, getting drunk on your taste and warmth that he had missed. His tongue glides across the inner of your bottom lip before sinking his teeth gently into the plumpness and tugging at it.
A needy whimper emerges from the back of your throat as he pulls at it tantalisingly while the corner of his lips curve into a smirk before releasing it, only to capture your lips into a searing kiss. “I’ve missed you so fucking much, you have no idea,” Heeseung growls against your lips, sending you shivers to your heated body.
Just when you think he decides to show leniency as he pulls away from the kiss, he dips his head down and kisses your bare shoulder wetly before trailing a scorching path all the way to your neck, eliciting a gasp from you at the pleasurable sensation of his lips alone on your skin. “I’ve missed you too, Hee.” You utter breathlessly as you fiddle with the back of your hair, tilting your neck to a perfect angle for him to decorate your skin with his mark.
Getting lost in the depths of this heated tension, you are too focused on his lips and teeth working in tandem to leave his mark on your skin to feel his fingers moving underneath your dress to hook them around your underwear. He places a wet kiss on your skin that now bears a fresh hickey before deftly pulling down your underwear as it falls to your ankle.
You gasp softly, finally gaining awareness of what is to happen. You feel the padding of his fingers strumming on your clit, sending you a faint, jolting pleasure through your body, but the risk of anyone witnessing your tryst out in the open latches to your rationality. “W-Wait─”
“Relax, love. No one's gonna stumble upon us, I promise you,” He assures you, his voice a little rough from the primal lust infusing in the heat of his veins, and his dark eyes watch every nuance of your countenance as he begins to rub your clit, drawing indecisive circles and strokes, yet it is effectual to set the bundle of nerves aflame. His eyes darken dangerously as he sees the way you bite down your swollen lip, repressing the sweet noises he desires to hear. “Don’t do that, sweetheart. Let me hear you.”
His gentle command is uttered in such mellowness, but you heed the undercurrent of familiar vice that reminds you of the Heeseung in Seoul, who used to frighten you greatly, even though the present him looks more intimidating while his eyes darken with a voracious intensity that has you clenching your cunt at nothingness in anticipation.
At once, you release your inhibitions, moaning softly as he rubs your clit with skilful precision, and you feel your arousal clinging onto your walls as they leak down. “Hee, choke me,” You request earnestly, and he searches for your eyes only to see unadulterated feverish lust before he complies, his fingers curling around your neck with enough pressure to allow you to gasp for air.
Feeling the loss of his fingers on your clit, you whine needily, only to be taken aback when he slides two fingers into your sopping cunt with the folds slick with your arousal. He feels the warmth of your slick wall lathering his fingers, aiding to the smoothness of him fucking you with his fingers at a steady pace.
“Seungie,” You gasp as soon as he applies more pressure with his firm grip on your neck, amplifying your pleasure while your hips begin to move in tandem with his pumping fingers.
“Feels good, pretty?” He asks huskily, his voice thickening with lust as he watches your face contorting into pleasure with your hooded-lust eyes in complete daze while sweet moans and gasps leave your swollen lips. A smirk touches his lips at how verbally unresponsive you are, completely fucked out just by his fingers. He leans in and nips at your bottom lip before ghosting his lips over yours and whispering huskily. “Yeah? Too fucked out to let Seungie know how good he is making you feel with his fingers?”
Admittedly, you are, and he fucks you with his magical fingers just as sensational as when he fucks you with his cock. “Seungie,” You moan, struggling to maintain stability in your voice as his fingers delve rhythmically into your wet cunt with stringent purpose, coaxing something greater than pleasure out of you while your every sense heightens. “S-So good! N-Need you─”
Heeseung cuts you off as he seals you into a fiery kiss with his ravenous lips without relenting his vigorous fingers from pumping into your cunt that sounds obscenely wet in your ears. “I know you need me, pretty girl,” He mutters in between the exchange of your kisses, smirking when your velvety walls clench around him like crazy as he hits the particular thrust against your g-spot before repeating it relentlessly while circling your sensitive clit with his thumb. “I want you to let it go for me anytime,” He lulls, dragging his nose against your skin before pressing an affectionate kiss on your cheek, contradicting the way he pumps his fingers into you as he determinedly pushes you to the edge of ecstasy.
You can feel it as your legs tremble with an overwhelming sensation while the knot coiling in your tummy threatens to snap. Your hand latches on his bicep, feeling the muscles beneath your touch taut. “Seungie, I’m─” With a broken moan, the knot in your tummy snaps as you explode with a crescendo of pleasure, your release gushes out in an uncontrollable fluid.
Heeseung kisses you hard on the lips as he continues to finger you, prolonging your orgasm despite your body convulsing in his hold. “That’s my good girl,” He whispers against your lips, causing your heart to swell with pride at his praise. He finally shows leniency as he withdraws his fingers that are coated with your slick release.
You take the moment to recover as he proceeds to unbuckle his leather belt, your eyes fluttering close with your head leaning against the wall behind you.The sensation of his fingers caressing your cheek affectionately prompts you to flutter your eyes open and meet his dark ones. “We’re not done yet, pretty,” He mutters, closing the gap between your bodies before slamming his lips on yours in a fiery kiss.
You eagerly reciprocate, your hands haphazardly finding their way to the hold onto him for stability before circling your arms around his neck as he deepens the kiss. His hands travel down to your ass, giving the flesh a good squeeze before moving underneath your thighs and carrying you with your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, only for you to feel his cock pressing directly into your core as he pins you against the wall.
“You’re still shivering, my love,” He whispers against your lips as he feels your body quivering beneath his touch. His eyes meet yours, allowing you to catch a glimpse of familiar devilry coupling with his carnal lust for you while his lips twitch into a smirk. “Let me warm you up, yeah?”
Your breath hitches in anticipation as you watch him grab the base of his shaft to aim at your drenched entrance while his other hand remains supporting your uplifted body. With your slick arousal providing as a lubricant, he enters you with smooth ease, albeit your walls bear resistance despite being prepped by his fingers.
Heeseung is unrelenting, plunging into you until his whole girth occupies every space with your velvety walls clinging onto him like a desperate lover. With a ragged breath, he begins to move, slowly yet deliberately thrusting into you while you arch your back at the sheer fullness, and you swear you can feel your tummy bulging with each thrust he hits deeper.
Seeing your lips part open with soft sounds of your moan and whine leaving you, he captures them in an intoxicating kiss that sends you spiralling, messy, and fervent while his movements are deep and methodical, ensuring that his cock leaves none of your territory uncharted. Your arms drape loosely over his broad shoulder, feeling languid as he takes charge over your docile figure.
“Fuck, you feel so good, so perfect,” He purrs, completely enamoured by you as his darkened eyes drink in the sight of your angelic face contorting into ecstasy with your head tilted to the back, presenting your dainty neck that is tainted with his mark to him.
“S-Seungie,” You stutter as he latches his lips on your neck, kissing and biting on your skin to leave another mark of his to leave a testament of his claim over you. His once-slow, methodical thrusts transition into hard, vigorous thrusts that underscore his fervid passion, hitting your g-spot relentlessly as you roll your eyes to the back, lacking coherence with only the sound of your moans filling the air.
The fiery of your intertwined passion creates a sinful symphony of your skins slapping against each other as well as the squelching sound of your precums that reverberates throughout the gazebo and even beyond its vicinity. Finally satisfied with leaving another hickey next to the other, he pulls away from your neck to press a deep, languid kiss on your cheek, his unforgiving thrusts never faltering.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, so mine,” He growls out against your skin, sending you shivers down your body that entangle with the pleasure he gives you. He kisses you hard again, muttering harshly in between the fierce kiss, “Wanna love you every day and every night like this. Wanna fill you to the brim with my cum and make you pregnant.”
Your walls clench around him the instant those words leave his mouth, eliciting a breathy chuckle from him that mingles with your breathy moan. “Yeah? You like the idea?” He rasps against your lips, his hips nearly stuttering as he feels the imminent release, his orgasm teetering at the precipice. “I’m gonna fill you up, pretty.”
Your legs lock around him tight, wanting to feel his cock deeply while the sensation amplifies the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your body, driving you to the new heights of ecstasy. “Seungie, I’m close,” You moan out, your walls quivering as you feel the inevitable imminent release of your orgasm before the final knot in your tummy erupts as you bathe him with your essence.
Heeseung unrelenting thrusts into you despite your uncontrollable fluids soaking him as you make a mess all over the now-spilled ground. Sinking his teeth into your bare shoulder, he delivers one profound thrust before the knot in his tummy unravels as the warmth of his semen fills you to the brim with his hips pressed into yours going stilled, ensuring none of his semen spill from your quivering pussy.
Your chest heaves up and down while your body feels spent from the exertion, despite him being the one in complete control. He buries his head in the nook of your neck, seeking a respite of comfort in your scent, prompting your fingers gently to rake through his hair while the other caresses his taut back muscles with your arms around him in an embrace, soothing him from the intensity moments before this.
“I love you, Y/N,” He says softly, his voice sounding a little rough from the prior passionate love-making. He presses a chaste kiss on your skin before pulling away to look at you deeply in the eyes. “I love you so much. I never want you to leave me again,” His tone conveys a silent plea, and yet there is an undercurrent of danger that has implicit consequences if you ever do leave.
“I’m not leaving you again, I promise,” You reassure him softly, cradling the undersides of his jaw with your thumbs stroking his cheek. Your eyes roam around his chiselled features meaningfully, etching them into your memory again. You lean in to press a delicate kiss on his lips, eventually deepening the kiss that has his cock twitching in you. “I love you too, Lee Heeseung. I really do,” You whisper against his lips while tears spring to your closed-lidded eyes.
Heeseung feels as though he is at his peak of happiness now that you have finally returned to him for good, albeit you can never really escape from him or any of them even if you have second thoughts, owing to their depravity and intense possessiveness over you.
Not having enough of you, he manoeuvres you over to the couch, settling you on top of him with the intention of fucking you in a cowgirl position. In an instant, you begin to move your hips in a back-and-forth motion, moaning into the kiss at the delicious sensation of each ridge and vein on her cock dragging along your velvety walls.
A heady mix of lust, love, and sex is present in the air, intoxicating you as you desire for him to take you over and over again. “That’s it, pretty girl, ride me good just like that,” He rasps, his voice thickening with palpable lust as he offers assistance to thrust up into you, eliciting a moan from you at the instant hit of his cock to your g-spot. “Let’s love some more, yeah, beautiful?”
You kiss him feverishly in response, moaning as his thumb finds your clit to rub it with skilful precision that intensifies your building pleasure within you. Even when an hour has gone by while your body convulses beneath him with your sexes in a passionate union, you never want him to stop fucking you, taking you at every untouched part of the gazebo, wanting him to love you intensely just as your depravity desires him to intoxicate you like he once did.
SYNOPSIS: All is finally well and forgiven, followed by the mutual consent and agreement of being in a relationship with you all at once. Sure, it feels surreal in the beginning of this new relationship that goes beyond the norms, but what completely bothers you the most is the fact that they have been deliberately avoid giving you what you desperately desire most, and so feeling petty over trivial matters, you decide to push their buttons to see how far they will go to tame and set you straight. Little do you know that you have aroused their devil's knights' spirits that lay dormant within them.
PLAYLIST: bad idea - Ariana Grande, 23 - Mike WILL ft. Miley Cyrus Wiz Khalifa, Just dance - Lady Gaga, S&M - Rihanna, Promiscuous - Nelly Furtado ft. Timbaland, Okay - Chase Atlantic, Swim - Chase Atlantic
PREV (PART 7.2) | NEXT (PART 7.4)
✘ SERIES MASTERLIST ✘
-smut warnings under cut-
smut warnings: unprotected sex (no!), dom!enha, name calling, degradation, manhandling, masturbation, spitting, fingering, pussy eating, clit slapping, edging, squirting, creampies, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, double penetration (once), semi-threesomes, mild MxM in action(fingers in the mouth).
The skimpy scarlet dress accentuates your contours impeccably, and the low-cut proudly displays a luscious visual of your cleavage with the familiar platinum ring resting proudly just below your clavicle, enhancing your allure that is an irresistible blend of elegance and seduction, as evident in the way you receive head turns to you as soon as you enter the establishment.
The entirety of the building is pulsating with the latest hits that meld with the riotous clubgoers. You can practically feel the wave of heat hitting you in the face as you venture deeper, in contrast to the cold breeze outside that sent you chills just moments ago. Though there is an unmistakable air of confidence emanating in the way you walk, it is merely a facade for you to hold onto the semblance of equilibrium to detract yourself from the incessant inner turmoil within you.
You find it ludicrous that the reason for your turmoil has to do with the fact that you feel leery because, knowing them, they either may appear anywhere you are at or stalk you from afar until it is the right time to take you by surprise, when it is of your accord that you chose the audacious route to a more unruly venture without any of their knowledge.
Well, to be fair, you did inform them through the group chat that you would be out with your best friend until late night, albeit your text was dry and vague for them to be entirely convinced, so technically, you did not lie to them. It’s just that you did not bother to explicitly tell them that you were heading to the nightclub downtown, where Jennifer invited you to go with her in the first place.
The rationale part of you is prudent enough to acknowledge that you may regret this, especially going to a nightclub with other males in your vicinity, but your petulance blinds your better judgement as you vehemently desire to release the pent-up tension that derives from your sexual frustration. Not even masturbation was sufficient as your needy body demanded them, and it was infuriating to see the guys being oblivious, whether or not it was genuine, to the obvious signs you gave away.
No, you and the guys are not having any fallout. As a matter of fact, ever since they reconciled with you, the journey of your newfound relationship over the course of two weeks has been nothing short of amazing ─ solemnly staying true to their words in treating you better as well as showering you with more affection in their every gesture.
Initially, the oddity of being in a polyamory relationship evoked unsought doubts despite the fact that it was a mutual consent, only because you were thinking of your parents, which rendered you perturbed at the worst possible outcome of their response to your relationship with the sons, whose fathers your mother had intimate history with. You could not begin to even imagine the look on their fathers’ faces once the guys decide to play their part, well, except Sunghoon since he reaffirmed that he is no longer in kin to his father.
Although it is highly unlikely that you would ever sever your relationship with the guys if your parents vehemently oppose and demand you to, you don’t wish to be on bad terms with your parents either. As expected, the guys dispelled any lingering doubts after you confided in them, resolutely reassuring you that they would never allow anything to happen that involved you slipping from their fingers and that your parents would surely be supportive like they always were. Just like that, you were at ease until you realised that it was only the calm before the storm.
It wasn’t the kind of storm that you expected, considering that your newfound relationship with them had been healthy ever since the grovelling, but healthy in a way that is uncomfortably odd after having distinguished their mannerism that feels rather anomalous.
You find it bizarre how you should be appreciating the relationship that you had always dreamed of being in. Plus, they have been incredibly loving as ever, constantly showering you with physical affection ─ kissing, hugging, cuddling, and sometimes they would head over to your apartment to have a sleepover, and despite being busy fulfilling their work obligations, they would always find time to meet up with you, even if it meant appearing at your doorstep at two in the morning just to see you.
Any rational person would think that you are being unreasonable and ungrateful when you are in a relationship with four very attractive and loving boyfriends. No, it’s just that your relationship feels too healthy to the point where it feels mundane, almost as if there is a missing element. An element you recognise all too well that centred around their depravity.
You desperately need and crave more than just kisses, cuddles, and hugs from them, but it was as though they seemed to purposely deprive you of what you intensely desire most, and that is sex. The most nastiest, meanest, and mind-blowing sex that will send you into subspace — you crave that. Two fucking weeks without sex feels borderline cruel, most especially whenever you gave them obvious hints for them to take you.
It was odd because you knew that the old them revelled in debauchery, but as you recall your observations, it was almost as if there had been a tremendous shift in their gear. Yes, you love the new change in them, but deep down in your depraved core, you miss how darkly twisted they were, and you crave for that darkness. You desire to get intoxicated by the familiar depravity, which your own is calling to.
You want them to let their inhibitions go and to consume you with the familiar intoxication that will have you wanting more. It is not only regarding just sex, but you desire the turpitude entrenched in the devil’s knights’ leaders that they once were.
Because deep down, you know that you love your men a little unhinged.
“Y/N! My girl!” Jennifer’s voice somehow miraculously manages to conquer the cacophonous music and chatters surrounding you as soon as she spots you in her line of sight, prompting you to meet her anticipating eyes as she beckons you over to the bar where she is seated with a glass of tequila sunrise on the countertop.
You promptly make a beeline for Jennifer, deftly avoiding bumping into the other clubgoers here while the upbeat latest hit throbs in your eardrums. As soon as you reach her, she lunges for you, her arms locking your figure in a tight hug that has you chuckling fondly at her before you reciprocate the eagerness, closing your eyes as you bask in the familiar warmth and comfort of your best friend.
Jennifer pulls away from the much-needed hug with her hands on your shoulders, her eyes displaying approval and appreciation. “Babe, you look stunning! Red is definitely your colour.” She gushes, elevating your self-confidence, and before you can even thank her, she abruptly pulls you to sit next to her stool. “It’s like I haven’t seen you in ages since Heeseung whisked you off from that restaurant, so you must tell me all the details!”
“Now hold on, Miss Jennifer. At least let me order a drink first.” You playfully reprimand her before informing the bartender of your order that is the same as Jen’s. You look over to her, only to roll your eyes at how impatiently keen she looks. It makes you want to laugh since you doubt that what happened in your life is more interesting than hers. “Don’t expect much from me, because honestly, I don’t know where to start.”
“Well, you can start off by telling me whether or not you have opened up your heart to Heeseung.” Jennifer is quick to provide you with the solution, but her impatience in both tone and countenance elicits an amused look from you. “Which, by the way, I concluded my presumption that you must’ve returned good terms with him, considering how smitten you two were that day.”
Instead of defending yourself and proving her last words wrong, your features soften with the smile on your glossed lips as you look down at your own tequila sunrise. “Not just him,” You confess, slowly returning your gaze to Jennifer’s, whose countenance is unreadable. You bite down your lip, contemplating as a wave of incertitude hits you before sighing. “But before I tell you everything, will you promise me not to freak out and judge me?”
Jennifer immediately reassures you with a small smile before shrugging her shoulders. “I have my fair share of bad choices, so who am I to judge you? Besides, I promised to be a supportive best friend.” Her countenance displays solemnity as she places her hand above yours. “Now tell me everything and do not leave out any details.”
It is not Jennifer Huh if she never craves details, and so the last of your lingering incertitude dissipates from you, causing your tongue to feel lighter before you begin to unravel. Jennifer puts her undivided attention on you, listening attentively without interrupting you while taking sips of her tequila.
Thankfully, you can still remember vividly how the entire situation escalated. The small smile on Jennifer’s lips as well as the approval glinting in her eyes don’t go unnoticed by you when you tell her how their grovelling went, which still makes your heart flutter as you revisit the memories. You have no idea how long you take to explain from A to Z as soon as you finish, but long enough to realise that the change of music blasting in the background that also gradually elevates your mood.
“So in conclusion….” Jennifer pauses, seeming to be processing all of the information that has been thrown at her in one sitting, as evident on her facial expression, whereas you take generous yet deserving sips of your untouched tequila sunrise, waiting for her concluding statement. “You’re now in a relationship with the four of them? As in poly?”
Her reaction is just as you expected. Plus, you can’t blame her astonishment at the revelation of your relationship when polyamory is uncommon in the now-modern society, at least to your knowledge. You examine her face for another time, searching for any execrable judgement in her eyes, only to see none, but she remains astonished, although it is likely the fact that the alcohol in her system is starting to affect her at how hooded her eyes are.
But the tequila in your own system is affecting you too, causing you to feel lighter than ever. You glance at your half-empty tequila, as you have underestimated how strong it is. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but it has been working out pretty well for us,” You manage to enunciate the words that jumble in your head. You heave a sigh, finding your previous statement ironic when you’re here, still feeling petty at them because of something so silly. “At least that’s what I think.”
“I’m happy for you, babe, truly. You finally got your happy ending with them,” Jennifer initiates a toast, to which your glasses produce a clink before you take more sips while she watches you with a coy grin. “Besides, after what you’ve been through, you deserve to have more than one cock to keep you happier.”
You immediately choke on your tequila at the unexpected, crude remark from her. You attempt to brush off the stares from the people in your vicinity, your cheeks warming. “Jen!” You hiss at your perfectly unbothered best friend.
“What?” Jennifer shrugs her shoulders as she leans back leisurely with one leg crossed over the other. “All I’m saying is that being in a poly relationship is good for you! Any one of them is always available for you if the other is busy to have sex─”
“Okay! Enough about my sex life!” You whine to her, eliciting chuckles from her before she decides to cease teasing you. Eventually, the two of you move to a new topic that involves her spilling gossip she heard at her workplace that is totally not related to work but more like her fellow employees whom she bears grudges against.
You try your best to entertain Jennifer as well as give your input, but it gets harder for you to focus on the present when your mind continually drifts off to your boyfriends, aggravating the cocktail of emotions within you. In the hopes to quell them, you decide to drink your second glass of tequila with vigour while Jennifer’s words fall deaf to your ears, but it honestly intensifies your emotions rather dangerously.
You grip your empty glass tighter. This won’t do. What you need is cock, and only your boyfriends are able to satisfy your need. With the influence of the alcohol that is slowly affecting every modulation in you, the heat is starting to get unbearable, and your body instinctively sways lightly to the music at the same time Jennifer does too.
“By the way, I forgot to mention about Eunwoo and Wooseok. I saw them earlier,” Jennifer nearly slurs out her words, clearly inebriated as she is on her second drink. Damn, the alcohol they serve here hits stronger than anything you have drunk. She scowls, her face displaying pettiness. “The betrayal I felt when my own cousin ditched me for his best friend. Snakes, I’m telling you.”
Just as you open your mouth to speak, a familiar voice interposes, followed by his shadow towering your figures from behind. “I knew there was a reason why my ears were burning hot,” Eunwoo’s playful remark earns him an eye-roll and a petty huff from your best friend. “Come on, Jen. Sulking won’t do you good for a grown woman at your age.”
“Screw you too, cousin,” Jennifer shoots at him, her daggering eyes do little to affect the tall male, whereas you chuckle at the irony of his remark since you are sulking as well.
The sound of your chuckles draws attention to you. “Hey, Y/N. It feels like it’s been forever since we saw each other,” Eunwoo greets you wholeheartedly while you smile in return. He looks good as ever, but it gives you no effects, unlike how you’d feel if you had seen your boyfriends. “You look amazing as always. How have you been?”
Eunwoo’s friendly approach is one you recognise, but your best friend misinterpreted his intention, prompting her to grab her cousin by the arm and pull him away from you. “She’s been doing fine, and don’t you dare hit on my best friend,” Jennifer warns him, though she doesn’t look exactly threatening enough for Eunwoo to take her seriously. “She’s a taken woman now. So for your own sake, do not in any way pursue Y/N with romantic interest unless you want to be hunted down.”
Eunwoo merely chuckles, whereas you grimace at her advice, knowing how dangerously possessive your boyfriends are. You shake your head lightly, refusing to think about them any longer before diverting your attention to Eunwoo. “Where have you been, Eunwoo?” You ask, though you are slurring your words.
“I was with Wooseok because he wanted to introduce me to his cousin,” Eunwoo informs, but his composure seems disconcerted while a frown marred his face. “But I have a strong feeling that his cousin dislikes me or something since he didn’t particularly seem to be amiable towards me, and I have no idea why.”
Just when you intend to allay his discomfort, something must have captured his attention as you observe his gaze trails across the bar with recognition written across his countenance. “There’s Wooseok and his cousin. Jay, I think.”
The mention of your boyfriend’s name leaving Eunwoo’s lips genuinely staggers you, and for a fleeting moment, you find it hard to believe that Jay is cousins with Wooseok because he would have told you about it, but when you follow Eunwoo’s fixed gaze before your eyes finally land on two familiar individuals, you feel a tinge of betrayal in your chest with a frown pulling down at your lips.
Just across from where you are, Jay is walking leisurely alongside Wooseok while they seem invested in their conversation. Confusion swirls within you upon seeing your boyfriend, but then comes the fury that is coupled with lust, feeling entirely aroused. ─ his unbuttoned white blouse allows a generous view of his toned chest while his rolled-up sleeves display his titanium Rolex and prominent veins, his jet black hair is impeccably gelled with a few strands hovering over his chiselled forehead, and a broad smile is adorned on his lips, enhancing his irresistible allure that even you can discern from afar.
Jay looks good — too good — looking criminally attractive than usual, and it takes every strength from your inner core to abstain yourself from pouncing on him and claiming him in the eyes of ogling women in his vicinity. Your nose flares slightly while your icy eyes narrow at those women, most especially the ones who seem to be acquaintances with Wooseok, as the two men halt from moving forward to entertain them. Well, at least Wooseok is, while Jay seems stoic and verbally unresponsive, as though he has zero interest in them, but still, it does nothing to mitigate the cacophonous emotions in you.
You ignore Jennifer and Eunwoo’s gazes on you as you slide off your stool, now standing with your eyes intensely fixated on Jay, who is surrounded by women with appealing allures. You want nothing more but to march over to them and snatch him away from them, but you refuse to make a scene. Instead, you grab your drink and toss your head to the back as you drink your tequila in one go, earning an awe from Jennifer, whereas Eunwoo remains curious at how tense you look.
Despite your rousing lust for him, you feel mad because how dare he looks good when he is not supposed to, especially when you know that he had to clock in for work today, and who the fuck is he looking hot for?
As if Jay can receive your telepathic warning signals, he easily meets your eyes as he turns away from the ladies vying for his attention. His face contorts into confusion briefly, but he promptly gravitates to you while Wooseok politely declines the ladies to follow Jay, only to be surprised to see you as well.
Just when you have the intention to escape Jay, the two men arrive by the bar quicker than you can even take ten steps forward. Wooseok greets you with a smile, but you are too distraught and overwhelmed by Jay’s presence as he approaches you.
“Baby, what are you doing here?” Jay asks, his tone sounding affectionate that sends you the familiar flutters as well as the sensation of his strong arm slithering around your waist to pull you closer to him. The fact that he is blatantly displaying his affection in front of them and how unperturbed he is takes you by great surprise.
You ignore the rising temperature on your cheeks as the intensity of handsome gaze and just how sinfully mouth-watering he looks up-close with his Dior Sauvage cologne sending you waves of intoxication intensify the heat in your core. Still, you refuse to falter, and so you merely narrow your eyes at him, only to receive an intriguing eyebrow raise from him.
You part your lips open to retort, but a gasp emits from you when Jay captures your lips in a sweet, tender kiss that has you melt against him instantaneously, dispelling your pent-up emotions. Your hands clutch on his shoulders, feeling them taut with tension that is in contrast to the way he is kissing you, but you can sense the desire simmering beneath the surface of his reverent touch on your body.
His lips move against yours in a sensual pace that has you moaning airily into his mouth. He tastes exquisitely addictive, leaving you wanting more of him as he kisses you with a sense of urgency. When his tongue gently prods into your lips, you become conscious of your surroundings, prompting you to pull away from his chasing lips.
Feigning nonchalant, you look over to your friends, only to feel a fury of embarrassment flooding your cheeks as they tease you with looks of amusement and smirks on their faces. You decide to focus on the matter at hand, ignoring the fact that Jay remains embracing you possessively in his strong arms while your eyes glare at a startled Wooseok. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.
“I can’t believe you’re cousins with my man this whole time, and you never even bothered to tell me,” You tell Wooseok with an accusatory tone and eyes while ignoring the heat of Jay’s body in contact with yours chest-to-chest and how his arms seem to tighten around your waist. “Were you also the reason they knew where I was?”
Jay feels his heart soaring at your declaration as you refer to him as your man, but you still don’t seem the slightest satisfied with your face turned away from him, which renders him confused despite finding himself entirely aroused by how exquisite you look in this red dress.
“For the record, I had no idea you knew Jay until he requested my help in searching for you. Besides, I had to respect my baby cousin's request of keeping it a secret from you,” Wooseok defends himself, though his stance appears laid-back with his elbow on the countertop supporting his upper body as he leans back, standing next to Jennifer. He chuckles as the frown on your lips deepens. “Don’t be mad at me. In the end, everything worked out pretty well for you, no?”
Fair enough, but it doesn’t mean that your exasperation towards Jay and the others has yet to be quelled. Sensing the crankiness in your temperament, Jay leans in to press a chaste kiss on your cheek before trailing his kisses to your temple, whispering, “What’s wrong? Hmm?" His husky voice resonates down to your core, but you refuse to cave into the temptation to attach your lips to his once more.
“Nothing’s wrong,” You say indifferently, but the cutting edge in your tone tells him all he needs to know. You force yourself to look at him in the eyes, only to feel unbearably aroused under the intensity of his dark gaze penetrating into you. You bite down your lip, refraining yourself from blurting out to him the fact that you are needy.
His gaze darkens as he peers down at your lip nestled between your teeth. He grabs your chin firmly, tilting your head up just when your gaze falters from his while he uses his thumb to pull down your bottom lip, forcing you to part open your lips. “I know you’re mad at me, but baby, you need to tell me what I did wrong for me to make it up to you.”
If there is one of the qualities you love most about Jay now is the fact that he never raises his voice at you, even if he feels annoyed or angry, but as far as you can recall, you have never done anything to incite unpleasant emotions from him, that is probably until now. You can’t seem to fathom the emotions swimming in his eyes dangerously, because despite looking dissatisfied at your abrupt avoidance, you can see the way his eyes rake all over your body, feeling as though he is undressing you.
Lacking self-control, you impulsively place a kiss on his lips before quickly pulling away, but the sensation of your soft, warm lips remains lingering on his. He clenches his jaw, wanting nothing more than to take you someplace else to fuck the truth out of you, but his cousin’s voice shatters the fantasies in his head.
“Jay, stop hogging your girl and get over here,” Wooseok beckons him over to the bar, eliciting a scowl from the latter. “You owe me a drink.”
Feeling his arms loose around your waist, you use your strength to push Jay away from you as gently as you can, and before he can reach out for you again, you quickly head over to Jennifer and Eunwoo, who raise their eyebrows at you intriguingly.
You ignore Jay’s heated gaze on your hand just when you grab Eunwoo’s hand at the same time you grab Jennifer’s. You cast them a lazy grin, feeling oddly exhilarated with a newfound vigour. “Come on! We can’t miss out on dancing!”
“Wait, Y/N─” Jennifer doesn’t have the opportunity to reject when you hastily drag the cousins in the direction of where the dance floor is, abandoning an amused Wooseok and a scowling Jay by the bar. Jennifer and Eunwoo exchange cautious glances, sharing a mutual sense of dubiety about this, especially when your boyfriend will be watching you.
From your peripheral vision, your heart nearly lurches in your chest upon seeing two familiar faces, whose eyes immediately latch on your figure. Confusion swirls in your head, wondering why and how they are here. It couldn’t be that Jay informed them because his hands and lips were on you instead of his phone. Nevertheless, you intend on ignoring them just as you ignored Jay, picking up the pace that has Eunwoo and Jennifer perplexed by your urgency.
“Princess? Hey─” You walk briskly past Sunghoon and Jake, forcing yourself to refuse their calling. Maybe you are being a bitch by acting unnecessarily petty, but tonight, you decide to let your inhibition go, desiring to see what awaits next now that three of your boyfriends are here.
Even as you begin to venture further into the dance floor, you can feel their burning gaze at the back of your head, and you hope that they will keep their eyes on you as you dance and mingle with the other clubbers, because frankly, you have may or may not have something up your sleeves on a whim that involved your mischief in provoking your boyfriends.
“Babe! Show off your moves!” Jennifer, who initially felt hesitant, has released her inhibitions, dancing to the music with an exuberance energy that influences you. She even encourages Eunwoo, who seems reluctant since he does not fancy being in the spotlight at the dance floor.
With the effect of alcohol reigning in the heat of your veins, everything feels exhilarating, maybe even more so as you can feel their eyes following your every movement. As the upbeat rhythm pulsates through your body, you allow it to influence the alluring sway of your body, intentionally enticing your boyfriends in a provocative sense.
Hilarity emanates from you and Jennifer, playfully grinding your bodies against each other as well as including a now-relaxed Eunwoo to dance with you. Their burning gaze feels intensifying, tempting you to look over to them, and you do. You lock eyes with Jake, whose jaw tauts with tension as you dance closely with Eunwoo before Sunghoon captures your momentary focus, but the intensity of his dark gaze feels just as impactful as his presence amidst the throng of clubbers.
You know that you should not provoke them further, but tonight, you feel an awful need to test their limits, and so you take Eunwoo by complete surprise with your arms thrown around his neck. You give Eunwoo a smile that reflects your mischief while your eyes are telling him to go with the flow, but his hands remain loosely on your hips, as though he is reluctant to cross boundaries with you.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Eunwoo states knowingly with an amused smirk on his lips. “You’re trying to make your boyfriend jealous.”
“Boyfriends,” You correct him, leaning a little closer to his ear as the music is overpowering, but your action only provokes certain individuals further. You narrow your eyes at him, ignoring an unpleasant chill through you. “And how did you know?”
“Just a hunch,” Eunwoo answers with a shoulder shrug before looking behind you, only for his amusement to dissipate from his countenance. “Plus, your boyfriends are not very discreet at throwing daggers at me with their eyes.”
You already know that much. “Just ignore them. I doubt that they’re jealous. Besides, I already told them that I see you as nothing more than a friend,” Though your tone is nonchalant, your heart begins to race while goosebumps arise on your skin, as this time, you feel another pair of burning eyes on you.
“A word of advice: don’t underestimate a man’s jealousy. They can get pretty predatorial,” Eunwoo’s eyes never stray as he remains looking behind you, enticing you to follow his gaze. “And I’m having a strong sense that I would not be having any hands left if I don’t let go of you soon.”
Finally caving into the temptation, you look over your shoulder and instantly lock eyes with Heeseung, whose eyes seem to darken dangerously while his entire demeanour is collected with a drink in his hand as he stands next to Jay, who is facing his cousin.
The intensity of his dark gaze feels palpable on your skin as he looks at your arms around Eunwoo before dropping his gaze on Eunwoo’s hands on your hips. When he returns his gaze to your eyes, you falter and remove your arms from Eunwoo before stepping away as you discern the silent command just by the look in his eyes. You have no idea how long Heeseung has been watching you, but maybe you should not have fucked around in the first place.
Despite being unnerved by Heeseung, you can’t deny the fact that you find it thrilling to push his buttons as well, especially knowing that he is more possessive than the others. But you find it odd that he remains by the bar instead of making his way to the dance floor to get to you. Heeseung holds your gaze again, and this time, his lips curve into a smirk before redirecting his attention to Jay and Wooseok, joining in their conversation.
Yup, you are totally fucked.
You shudder lightly before looking at where Jake and Sunghoon were last seen, only to see them nowhere. Your stomach begins to churn while the music pulsating in your eardrums seems to get louder, but since you are twisted on the inside, adrenaline rushes through you as you await what is to come.
“I’m going to head over to the restroom.” You inform Jennifer and Eunwoo, who are too occupied to reply to you as they get immersed in their element, mingling with other clubbers.
Truth be told, you don’t really need to go to the restroom. You just needed an excuse to venture further as you now find yourself meandering across the bustling dance floor with the atmosphere being a heady mix of perfumes, sweats, and alcohol, but you revel in the element without heeding to the incoming predator who has been in a relentless pursuit to catch his prey. You.
Just as a drunkard giggle leaves your lips, a gasp follows when a large hand grips your waist before finding yourself getting pulled and causing your back to hit a solid chest. “Caught you, sweetheart.” His husky voice is laden with desire and frustration while his hot breath fans your earlobe, eliciting a satisfied grin from your lips. “Now tell me why you are acting like this.”
“What are you talking about?” Your nonchalance seems to fuel his ire, as evident in the way his arm around your waist tightens, ensuring no escape from him, but that doesn’t stop you from grinding your body against his, maintaining momentum to the music, and causing your ass to bulge with each intentional bump.
“Don’t play dumb, lovely,” Jake nearly growls in your ear, his erection growing painful beneath the confines, and he wants nothing more than to fuck you, most especially displaying his territorial claim over you in front of Eunwoo.
You scoff lightly before turning around with the intention to provoke him further, but your resolve falters when your eyes roam around him shamelessly. The chain necklace hooked around his neck enhances his whole look.
“And you don’t interrogate me in the middle of the dance floor.” You manage to utter, albeit your tone sounds sultry, as you lean towards him with a simper smile, your fingers fiddling with his necklace. “You look so good, baby.”
He can feel his cock twitching at your compliment. As his eyes rake all over your body that is adorned in an alluring scarlet dress, his tongue glides across his bottom lip, desiring to rip off your dress and devouring every inch of you. The kaleidoscope of coloured lights illuminates your seductive beauty with your sultry eyes holding his gaze.
Fuck, why did he even agree with his best friends to refrain from having sex with you in the first place? Especially knowing that he lacks self-control most when it comes to being all over you.
“Flattery won’t make me forget that you let another man touch you,” Jake tells you sternly in an attempt to forget his painful erection with your body being pressed against him. The smirk on your luscious matted lips tells him that you can distinctly feel his bulge just below your tummy.
You drape your arms around his neck lazily, purposely pressing your boobs against his chest that has his dark eyes flicker down at your appealing cleavage. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Jaeyun,” You purr, leaning your face closer to his as his cologne filters through your senses.
“Oh yeah?” Jake rasps as your lips brush against his tantalisingly, prompting his hands to squeeze your hips and expecting a kiss from you, but his frustration that melds with his libido for you intensifies when you decide to tease him with your alluring sway as you dance to the music and your lips remain ghosting over his.
Giddiness bubbles in your chest that cause giggles to leave your lips, deciding to cease your teasing as he looks evidently infuriated yet reeks of desperation. “Yeah.” You giggle for another time before pressing your lips against his, testing waters by kissing him softly despite the unbearable heat coursing through your veins.
Disappointment dawns on you when Jake doesn’t reciprocate your kiss. Instead, he remains motionless, letting you smother your kiss on his soft, addictive plump lips. You huff lightly into the kiss before pulling away and jutting your lips into a pout. “If you don’t want to kiss me, then I’ll get someone else to make out with─”
That sets off the trigger in his head, because the next thing you know, his fingers go tangled in your hair, firmly seizing control over you and pulling you to him before he smashes his lips into yours, kissing you senselessly that has you melt in his possessive embrace.
Jake kisses you as if you’re his drug, his lips moving against yours desperately while his hand explores further until he gropes your ass cheek, prompting you to lift your leg with his assistance and locking your thigh to his hip. He groans into the kiss at the sensation of your core grinding against his prominent bulge, and his fingers unwind your hair to grip your waist as you continue to grind sensually that is in tandem to the music.
“Fuck, you’re going to end me,” He murmurs against your parted lips as you gasp for air, only to be deprived of oxygen when he thrusts his tongue into your mouth. Your hands go winding in his soft locks, tugging at the strands as you moan airily into his mouth while his wet muscle explores your hot cavern.
The kiss is messy and nasty with the saliva exchange between you and him as your languid tongues are now dancing in an intimate tango, but you love it. Never mind the fact that you are making out brazenly with him at the dance floor, because all that is relevant in this moment is him and him alone with the heat emanating from your bodies melding into one.
“You, in this dress,” Jake breathes into your mouth, his voice low and husky, while you pant lightly with need. “Drive me fucking insane.” He captures your lips into a searing kiss that feels bruising, but you love the pain, kissing him back with equal fervour while his fingernails sink into the flesh of your bum, rocking his bulge against your weeping heat.
It takes every strength in you to master self-control from stripping down your garments with the intention to fuck him in front of everyone else. As the intensity is reaching its peak, you force yourself to pull away from his ravenous, swollen lips that mirror your own, allowing yourselves to regulate your ragged breathing from the needed make-out session.
You can feel your lipstick smudged all over your lips. This time, you really need to head to the restroom to compose yourself despite your dissatisfied heat remaining weeping for him. His dark eyes swirl with primal desire as he licks his lips before capturing your lips once more, tugging and sucking on your bottom flesh that has you whining softly against him.
“Jaeyun, I really need to go,” You manage to speak in between stolen kisses as you gently push him away in the chest. You shudder lightly at the vibration of his growl on your lips, a warning protest that reflects his intention of ravaging you, still.
You sigh pleasurably against his addictive lips, allowing yourself to indulge him for a little more. Feeling his grip on your body loosen, you grasp the opportunity to wrest your body from him, only to receive his questioning yet glaring eyes that remain swirling with desire.
Being audacious enough, you blow him a kiss and shoot him a roguish grin, but before he can reach for you again, a group of people blocks his path, giving him no opportunity to get you in time because when he finally manages to, you are nowhere in his line of sight.
“Fuck,” Jake curses loudly under his breath as he ruffles his tousled hair, frustrated at the game that you are playing, and while he finds it challenging, he can’t deny how adorable your attempts are.
On the other hand, you successfully manage to break free from the dance floor that is starting to get densely packed with more clubbers. The exhilaration remains coursing through you as every so often giggles leave your swollen lips that are ruined by Jake, recalling the look on his face, and in the way you walk, it seems as though you are tipsy, having to hold onto the wall for stability.
Just when you decide to take a moment to compose yourself, a large hand latches on your wrist in an inescapable grip, startling you greatly and leaving you no time to process the sudden escalation.
“Sunghoon?!” You blanch, staring at the back of his head in bewilderment as he unrelentingly pulls you with him in the direction of the exit, and you swear you can see smokes leaving his ears, obviously pissed off at your antics.
Sunghoon merely ignores you as he spares you no glance, dragging you even after you step out of the establishment. Unbeknownst to him, this is exactly what you wanted. Your lips stretch into a sly grin, keenly anticipating what he has in store for you. The music reverberating throughout the establishment sounds faint as he drags you towards the secluded corner of the nightclub.
In a blink of an eye, Sunghoon swiftly has you pinned against the wall with his palms planted on the concrete wall next to your head, ensuring no escape. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see his eyes darkening with each passing second, taming his inner demons from consuming you in the most intoxicating way.
“What you pulled back there with your friend wasn’t cute, princess.” His voice sounds gravelly deep, which turns you on further as you bite down your lip, momentarily distracting him by your sultry countenance. “Clearly, you're intentionally provoking us by acting like a brat tonight for no reason, and I don't appreciate that."
A scoff falls past your lips, your face twisting in annoyance at the word ‘brat’. “I’m not acting like a brat!” You snap pettily, attempting to push him away from you with your hands on his toned chest, but he doesn’t budge. You tilt your chin up with a hint of defiance as you maintain the heated eye contact. “You’re just jealous─”
“Damn right, I am,” Sunghoon snarls coldly, leaning his body closer to you that sends your head dizzying from how potent his ire is that mingles with his addictive cologne, amplifying the tension. His dark gaze holds you tenaciously, forcing you to grasp the gravity of your actions. “I’m your boyfriend, aren’t I? I have every right to feel jealous and to make your friend feel sorry for ever touching you.”
Still, you refuse to submit to him yet, wanting to prolong this as you proceed to push his buttons. “I liked the way he touched me,” You say nonchalantly, your eyes flickering down at his necklace while your fingers lazily trail on his chest that sends him a series of goosebumps.
“What the fuck did you just say?” He asks calmly, his fingers gripping your chin to seize control over your focus as your eyes meet his that are storming with fury and desires.
A grin touches your lips. God, he looks so hot when angry. “You heard me,” You push his buttons again, your sultry eyes glinting with twisted mischief while your fingers ascend to his neck to trace his Adam apple. “Maybe I should’ve let him explore me a little deeper.”
Sunghoon clicks his tongue in annoyance before the corner of his lips curves into a smirk with his fang-like teeth peeking. “You really like pushing my buttons, don’t you?”
You merely hum in agreement as you lazily drape your arms around his neck before pulling him closer to you while his hands fall to your hips to pin you against the wall. “And you look hot getting all riled up,” You purr in his ear sensually before whining softly while you rub your leg against the side of his deliberately. “Please, I’m so needy, Hoonie.”
Letting his inhibitions go, Sunghoon takes you by surprise when he slams his lips against yours, swallowing your gasp and kissing you hard with fervour. He presses his body into yours, enabling you to grind your core against his hardened bulge.
You moan languidly into the wet kiss at the sensation of his distinct bulge in contact with your clit, loving how nasty he gets when you make out with him, tongues meshing wetly against each other and teeth nipping at each other’s lips.
“More, please,” You plead breathlessly as soon as he pulls away from your chasing lips with the string of your spits connected before trailing a scorching path on your neck with his lips, rendering you unbearably aroused.
Sunghoon scoffs against the hollow of your throat before nipping at your skin and moving over to your ear. “Strip down your underwear first, princess.” He commands lowly, intensifying your arousal at his dominance reigning over you before you as he told you without breaking eye contact with him.
As soon as you straighten your back, you hold up your beige underwear, causing his nose to flare lightly as he sees a noticeable wet patch due to your slick of arousal. “You’re so fucking needy for cock, aren’t you?” His tone drips with condescension that goes straight to your cunt as it clenches around nothing.
“Sunghoon!” You gasp in disbelief when he snatches your underwear and shoves inside the pocket of his brown leather jacket.
“For souvenir,” Sunghoon merely smirks at you before dipping his head down to kiss your neck, distracting you with the sensuality of his lips and tongue assaulting your neck while his hand travels along your lower region, moving underneath your scarlet dress. “Spread your legs for me, princess.”
You eagerly do, your hand goes latching on his broad shoulder for support when the padding of his fingers comes into contact with your clit, setting the bundle of nerves to go aflame as he rubs it deliberately with expert precision that has the pleasure of coiling in your tummy.
His dark eyes watch your every nuance closely ─ the way your lashes flutter as your eyes are threatening to close while your lips go parted with only the sweet sound of your moans and cute gasps he revels in with a smirk touching his lips.
“So this was your goal? To rile me up and get me to fuck you with my fingers?” Sunghoon scoffs, his voice lacing with a familiar degradation that ignites a thrilling heat in you. You don’t respond, only getting lost in the sensation of his slender fingers thrusting deeper and faster in your cunt with your hips moving in tandem. “Oh, princess, you really are a brat.”
“F-Fuck you,” You let out a broken gasp as his fingers delve deeper and hit the spot relentlessly, coaxing more moans from you when he skilfully aids your neglected clit that is slick with your arousal with his thumb while his fingers remain thrusting into you.
“Manners, princess, or I won’t make you cum at all.” He tuts disapprovingly, dipping his head to place a wet, chase kiss on your pulse before sinking his teeth into your skin, causing you to arch your back against the wall at the painful pleasure.
You hold him close with your arms around him meekly, allowing him to listen to your pathetic moans and whines that go straight into his raging cock. With both his fingers and thumb manipulating your sopping cunt and clit in an unrelenting tandem, the coil in your tummy threatens to snap at any moment.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” He asks, his tone dripping with mockery as he pulls away from your tainted neck with his mark. You can only moan in response while he watches you with sadist satisfaction as you writhe needily in his hold and pulls him closer to you.
“Come on, princess. Make a fucking mess all over my fingers.” He nearly growls out in command, his thumb flickering your slick clit feverishly that hurtles you to the edge of ecstasy. With one particular, hard thrust as well as pressing his thumb into your clit, a moan tears from your throat as you violently come undone with your essence coating his fingers.
Sunghoon withdraws his fingers from your cunt, only to bring them to your lips. You comply, opening your mouth for him to shove his fingers and allowing you to taste yourself. His eyes darken with primal lust as he watches you swirling your tongue around his sticky fingers and sucking them while your hooded eyes never leave his.
As soon as you suck your own release clean, Sunghoon pulls his fingers away from your mouth and captures your lips in a searing kiss before licking the residue of your saliva on the seams. You moan wetly into his mouth as his tongue invades your cavern once more to lick every inch.
“Fuck me, please.” You whine against his lips, your fingers pawing on his broad shoulders while your leg gooes locking around his thigh slyly, eliciting a smirk from him before he kisses you hard for another time and pulls away. Your hooded eyes remain clouding with lust as you look at him with your hands travelling down to slide them underneath his top, feeling his abs flexing beneath your touch. “Need you so bad, Hoonie.”
Instead of indulging you, Sunghoon takes a step away from you and pulls down the hem of your dress that is bunched to your waist. Before you can open your mouth to speak, he grabs your hand and drags you with him while your head is fogging with confusion amidst the prevailing lust.
“Hoonie, what─” The question that hangs at the tip of your tongue dissipates as you step foot into the parking lot, spotting Jake positioned sideways on his bike seat with his arms folded across his chest. You don’t make any protests despite the confusion as Sunghoon continues to drag you over to Jake.
Hearing your footsteps, Jake directs his attention to your dishevelled yet flushed appearance, causing his lips to curve into a smirk as he has a strong inkling that his best friend prepped you. “She’s all yours for now, mate,” Sunghoon says theatrically, mirroring his smirk as he releases your hand.
Jake doesn’t respond to his best friend, and instead, his eyes remain on your addled figure with your eyes darting between them. He unfolds his arms to extend his hand to you. “Come here, sweetheart.” His voice is soft, but his tone carries a firm command that has you gravitate towards him in just a few steps before he grabs you by the waist and slams his lips against yours, kissing you with an insatiable urgency.
You gasp into the kiss, supporting yourself with your hands on his chest, but his arms wrapped around your waist are unyielding, forcing you to lean dependently into him. Just as you nearly succumb to his irresistible lips, taste, and his scorching touch on your body, your ears perk up at the sound of Sunghoon’s footsteps seemingly retiring.
You quickly break the kiss and look over your shoulder to see Sunghoon walking away from you. “Wait, where are you going?” You whine out to him, ignoring Jake’s lips littering on your exposed chest just above your cleavage.
Sunghoon halts his steps, directing his focus on you, only for his eyes to soften at the sight of your sparkling eyes that yearn for him as well. He can’t resist you, his feet gravitating back to you until the distance is enough for him to grab your outstretched arm as you reach out for him.
“I’ll just be over there,” Sunghoon points his fingers to the spot on the pavement just across from where you are. Upon seeing your pout, he raises your hand to place a kiss on your knuckle, as though it is a gesture of his apology, and his lips curve into a smirk. “Don’t be too sulky, princess. Jake will keep you satisfied until I return for you.”
Even as Sunghoon parts from you with his hands occupied in taking out his cigarette box from his pocket, your eyes never stray from him, rendering a certain someone, whose boner is getting uncomfortable beneath the slacks, to feel neglected due to your lack of attention on him.
“Focus on me, sweetheart,” Jake instructs you sternly with his fingers gripping your chin firmly, forcing your attention on him. Your breath hitches in your throat at dangerous swirls in his dark, sensual gaze. “You left me high and dry back there.”
“I’m sorry,” You utter a feeble apology as your heart flutters at the affectionate gesture of him tucking strands of your hair behind your earlobe.
Jake hums, stroking your cheek with his thumb tenderly, and yet it feels deceptive. “I know you are, sweetheart.” He says so affectionately, but the smile stretching on his luscious lips looks ever so devious, sending you a faint chill down your body.
You know that Jake, or maybe even Sunghoon as well, has ulterior motives when he releases you, prompting you to step away from him. You watch him with both curiosity and incredulity as he proceeds to unzip his pants before pulling them down and displaying his red briefs with a perceptible wet patch.
“Jaeyun! What are you doing?!” You whisper to him furiously, your cheeks warming due to the second-hand embarrassment, whereas he doesn’t seem the slightest perturbed, but you can’t deny the arousal stirring in you at the sight of his bare erection with the tip glistened with his precum.
“Come here, lovely.” Jake’s voice sounds deeper than ever, laden with primal lust as he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you to him. He adjusts his position, now sitting comfortably on the bike seat. “I want you to ride me.”
You stare at him with great incredulity as you remain cemented to the asphalt ground. “On your bike?” You ask slowly, only to receive a definitive head nod from him. A scoff leaves your lips, because you never would have thought that Sim Jaeyun would initiate sex on his freaking red Ducati Panigale V2. “Are you crazy? We could fall over!”
“It’s on a kickstand, sweetheart. Plus, I’ll be supporting us,” Jake attempts to reassure you, struggling to maintain the tenderness in his tone while his cock is getting more erected at the thought of your pussy, but your mind drifts off to another matter in the present as you scan your surroundings warily, especially recalling the prolonged line of people outside of the club, which is near the parking lot.
“But other people might see us.” You protest weakly as he pulls you by the arm, lacking resolve at the instant his lips latch onto your skin just above your cleavage while his hands slither down underneath your thighs, soothing your nerves in the way he rubs your skin.
Jake nips at your chest, eliciting a gasp from you before he pulls away and takes you by surprise when he easily lifts you up. Your arms quickly latch around his shoulders for stability while your legs instinctively hook around his waist, and the closeness causes you to feel his erect cock against your tummy as he adjusts his original position, with the only difference being that you are now straddling his chiselled thighs.
“I promise you that no one gives a fuck about what we are doing, and even if they see us, I see nothing’s wrong with it.” Jake gives you a simper smile that infuriates yet turns you on more than you were earlier. You open your mouth to reprimand him, but a gasp leaves instead as he smacks your ass sharply while the stinging pain fuels your arousal. “Now you’re going to ride my cock good, sweetheart.” He commands, leaning back slightly with his hands on the seat, allowing you to take control.
Seeing that there is no use to reason with him any longer, you may as well enjoy the thrilling escapade in this accessible zone. With the hem of your dress bunched to your waist, you look down to grab the base of his cock, hearing him drawing a sharp breath at the warmth of your touch, and you swear you can feel him throbbing with need.
Jake offers his assistance to you, his palms beneath your bums as he lifts you up just slightly for you to aim his pointed cock at your sopping entrance before sinking yourself slowly onto him. Two weeks without sex makes you feel as though you’re a virgin, because the sensation of his thick girth stretching your walls feels overwhelming, eliciting a whimper from you as you try to accommodate his size.
Seeing tears prickle in the corners of your eyes, Jake decides to alleviate your pain as he leans in to capture your lips in a tender kiss, allaying your nerves. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know it has been awhile, but you can do it, yeah?” He murmurs against your lips, his voice lacing with affection that makes your heart swell. “The pain will be gone soon. Just a little more.”
Though his voice sounds gradually deeper and thicker with an unmistakable lust, he remains composed and tender in the way he constantly reassures you with patience. Your hands grip on his shoulders for stability, gasping as you manage to fit the entirety of him. “Jaeyun.” You utter his name shakily as you meet his reassuring eyes.
“Go on, gorgeous. Ride me,” Jake says encouragingly, closing the gap between your lips to kiss you sweetly while his hands position at your hips firmly to aid in your movement. He groans into the kiss as you begin to ride him, feeling your wetness lubricating his cock thanks to Sunghoon’s work.
“Ungh─Jaeyun─” Your words clog in your throat before they come out as moans instead, as each movement sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body despite the pain of his sheer girth stretching your walls, but it subsides quicker than you realise, rendering you with renewed vigour as you begin to fuck yourself onto his cock, bouncing and gyrating your hips, completely drunk on his cock that the thought of possibly falling over no longer deters you.
Jake watches you with hooded eyes that darken with carnal lust, admiring how you look beautifully intoxicated by the sensation of his cock with your head tilted up and your eyes closed while moans and gasps, leaving your parted lips. Although watching you in control is his favourite, his inner demons are practically ravenous as they impel him to assert dominance, desiring to go deeper into than his cock already is.
When your fingernails dig into him as your hands grip his shoulders for stability, the last thread of his willpower finally snips, prompting him to assert control with full force as he grips your hips firmly before taking you by surprise when he pulls you down and holds you there, causing you to feel his cock more deeply.
“Jaeyun, please move.” You whine in complaint at the stillness, only for him to slam his lips against yours into a searing kiss before he starts to hammer you down on his cock with ease, seizing control that feels overpowering with the combination of his lips, kissing you messily with his tongue forcing his way into your mouth and meeting your tongue, only for him to reign dominance the same way he fucks you.
Jake wants to be gentle with you; he really does, but the tightness of your warm velvety walls hugging his cock sends his head spiralling that is filled with the thought of you and your sweet, tight cunt, prompting him to thrust into you with reckless abandon as your whole body shakes in his secure hold, drawing out cries and whimpers from you that he greedily swallows.
Sensing that you need to gasp for air in the way your breathing becomes staggered, Jake pulls away from the kiss and resorts to latching his lips on your skin with his fingers tangled in your hair to tilt your head up, granting him easy access to your neck, all the while without stopping his relentless thrusts into your nearly battered cunt.
“You feel so good wrapped around my cock, lovely,” Jake grates, his breath scorching on your skin. His grip on your waistline feels like iron while his dominance over you reigns as he thrusts his cock into your sopping cunt deeper to the point where you feel his bike rocking under him due to the intensity. It is a miracle that the two of you have yet to fall over, given how vigorous he fucks into you.
“Missed you so much,” You whimper in his ear as you hold him close with your arms around his neck. Your heart flutters when he plants a deep kiss on your cheek, his gesture affectionate and tender, momentarily distracting you from the imminent release as your climax is teetering at the edge.
“I’ve missed you too, my loveliest. I missed this sweet fucking pussy too,” Jake groans deeply as your walls clamp around him, quivering, while your body trembles in his hold, signifying that you are close. He snaps his darkened eyes open, meeting his best friend’s from across as the latter continues to smoke his cigarette stick while watching the obscenity unfold before his very eyes.
“I’m gonna come, Jaeyun.” You moan out as you bring your fingers down to rub your clit, intensifying your imminent release that is about to crash down on you at any moment. You mewl in his ear, trying your best to litter kitten kisses down his throat while his grip tightens on your body. “You fuck me so good, baby.”
It is as though something inside him snaps, something so animalistic, and the next thing you know, Jake stands abruptly and continues to fuck you as he carries you with such ease, lifting and pulling you down on his cock with your legs untangled. The new position and angle allow his cock to hit your spongey spot deliciously, eliciting unabashed moans from you.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” Jake nearly growls out before capturing your lips and silencing your sounds. Without warning, the tidal wave of pleasure crashes over you as you moan against his lips, surrendering yourself to the rapture of orgasm that feels intense while he continues to bring you down on his cock relentlessly.
With one last thrust, Jake matches the crescendo of your release, his own washing over him in a torrent of ecstasy with his sticky essence spilling in you. He continues to hold you up while you slump against him dependently, your breaths labouring from the exertion. You feel his cock softening in you as he ambles forward, only to set you down on Sunghoon’s bike carefully before he reluctantly pulls out from you and steps away.
Your face contorts into confusion as you watch Jake pulling up his briefs before Sunghoon shields your view, prompting you to look at his face, only to see deviousness melding with primal lust as his eyes that are raking all over your body. Your pulse drums in your ear as he takes tantalising steps closer to you while his eyes darken dangerously.
“Spread your legs for me, princess,” He commands, his voice a low rumble that sends you chills. You slowly comply despite the embarrassment weaving across your cheeks at how lewd you present yourself to him with the hem of your dress bunched to your waist as you lean back slightly, allowing a full display of your bare cunt that leaks with the union of your essence with Jake’s.
Sunghoon is in awe as his dark, hungry eyes settle on your slick folds while his tongue glides across his bottom lip, wanting to ruin you even after his best friend already did. “Damn, look at you, princess. You’re fucking drenched.” His tone drips with condescension, but it turns you on more than anything.
“Sunghoon,” You moan softly when his thumb comes into contact with your slick clit to rub it in calculated circles before adding his fingers to slide up and down in between your folds, causing you to buck your hips up at his tantalising assault on your needy cunt.
“Still so needy even after getting fucked,” Sunghoon patronises you with a condescending smirk while continuing his assault relentlessly, edging you until he stops to unzip his pants. You whine out your impatience as you feel your cunt clench around nothing in anticipation. “Patience, princess. You’ll get cock, alright.” He drawls, now inching closer to you as he holds his cock to aim at your awaiting cunt.
“Wait, Sunghoon, what if I fall?” You ask worriedly as realisation hits you at the fact that you are seated on his bike sideways while holding onto anything solid for support. Your question goes unanswered, and worries are quickly dispelled when he plunges his cock into your cunt, eliciting a startled gasp from you at the instant fullness of his girth.
“I won’t let you fall. Just stay there all prettily for me to ruin you and take it,” Sunghoon groans at the resistance of your warm velvety walls clamping around his cock despite having been battered by Jake. He quickly steadies you just when your body goes limp from the prior exertion, with his hand coiling at the nape of your neck while his other hand grips your waist firmly. “Stay with me, princess. I’ll make you feel good again.”
You only moan in response as you surrender yourself to the newfound pleasure of his cock battering your already ruined cunt with an unbridled fervour, causing his bike to rock back and forth under the force of your shared passion. The distinct drag of his cock against your walls quells your discomfort of getting fucked on his bike in this position, and instead, you arch your back as you desire to feel him deeply.
“Look at you. You’re loving this, getting fucked on my bike,” Sunghoon murmurs, smirking as he watches you unravelling beneath him, his voice laden with unadulterated lust and pride at the pure ecstasy contorting on your face. His hand falls to your bare thigh, gripping it tightly while he delivers thrust after thrust. “Anywhere is fine with you as long as you get cock, yeah? It doesn’t matter if it's public or not. You’re so fucking nasty, princess.”
“I’m not,” You whine out in denial, but deep down, maybe you are an exhibitionist. As your hooded eyes meet his, Sunghoon clenches his jaw, getting riled up at your blown-lust pupils, as though nothing is on your mind except him and his cock. You flicker your eyes at his pink lips, wanting nothing more than for him to claim you again. Your hand goes fisting at his top, slowly pulling him down to you. “Kiss me, please.”
Who is he to deny his princess, even if she had been acting like a brat? With a soft smirk unfurling on his lips, Sunghoon dips his head down and presses his lips against yours while you aid in tilting your head up for easy access for him to kiss you without having to remain uncomfortable in his stance, but miraculously, he manages to maintain momentum as he drives his cock deeper into you.
Sunghoon tilts his head to the perfect angle to deepen the kiss, and when you part open your lips in an invitation for him to explore you, his heart swells with pride and affection. He pulls you to him by the hip to drill himself deeper in your weeping cunt at the same time he thrusts his tongue into your mouth, allowing you to taste the fresh cigarette on his tongue as he licks every inch of your hot cavern.
The combo of his addictive kisses and his cock drilling you sends you to a state of feverish ecstasy, stimulating your arousal that is now moulded into a knot in your tummy. Your breath hitches in your throat at the grazing sensation of his sharp fang-like teeth against your bottom lip teasingly before he pulls away, his breaths ragged.
“Your pussy feels so good around me, princess. Wonder why the fuck I agreed to avoid having sex with you for so long,” Sunghoon grunts out as he multitasks in securing your position just when you nearly slip down from the bike seat. His statement goes unheard by you as you succumb to the throes of pleasure.
“That makes the two of us,” Jake’s voice nearly shatters the heated passion that engulfs you and Sunghoon with your conjoined sexes, but neither of you pays mind to Jake, who is seated on his bike leisurely as he watches his best friend fuck the love of his life.
“Hoonie, I’m close.” You announce in a whimper, only for you to moan again when his thumb rubs your clit in a frenzied circle, matching the way he thrusts into you with reckless abandon while your cunt clenches at the intensifying pleasure he gives you.
“Me too, princess. We’ll come together, yeah?” Sunghoon rasps, his voice rough with lust and possessiveness, desiring to claim you with his essence over and over, maybe even breed you.
With one last flick on your clit, the knot in your tummy snaps with an overwhelming force as you tumble over the edge of ecstasy with a moan while a guttural growl of pleasure emits from him as he slams his hips against yours for one last time before his orgasm crashes down on him like tidal waves and spills copious amounts of cum deep inside you.
The last echoes of ecstasy fades into the air, his cock softens in you before he gently pulls out, eliciting a whimper from you at the sensitivity when his cock drags along your walls. Your legs give up as they limp over his bike in the air, still spread lewdly in front of them.
Your eyelids threaten to close after having been fucked by two cocks in one night, and you wish to sleep away your exhaustion, but Sunghoon instantly brings you back to the present as he cradles your face while the other hand assists you to stand, but your feet go wobble, prompting you to hold onto Sunghoon’s arm.
“Come on, princess. Let’s bring you back to your apartment,” Sunghoon murmurs to you, looking down just to see you snuggling into his chest while your mewl makes his heart swell with affection as you feel his warmth enveloping you in a cocoon of safety and comfort.
A soft smile touches your lips, feeling contented that you managed to achieve your goal, well, at least with the two of them. You snuggle into Sunghoon for a good minute before pulling away to look him in the eyes, seeing how soft his gaze is compared to earlier.
Your heart flutters as he strokes your cheek lovingly. “Who do you want to ride with, princess? Me or Jake?” Sunghoon asks softly, his eyes examining your face, and he wants nothing more than to provide you with the aftercare you deserve.
“Jaeyunie,” You answer without hesitation, eliciting different reactions from the two best friends. Sunghoon shoots Jake a glare, whereas the latter smiles smugly. You see the way Sunghoon is equipped with jealousy that is borderline possessive in the way his arms embrace you. You cradle his cheek, forcing him to look at you. “I still love you, Hoonie, but I want to ride with Jaeyun. I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”
“Later?” Sunghoon asks with an inquisitive eyebrow, entirely intrigued, most especially by the undercurrent of mischief and lust in your tone.
“Mmhmm,” You reaffirm while a lazy grin spreads across your swollen lips; no longer is the exhaustion present in your body. Your eyes dart between them, enticing them with your sultry gaze. “Another round at my apartment?”
“Fuck yeah. Come here, sweetheart,” Jake beckons you over to him, but Sunghoon holds you tighter and decides to irk Jake by peppering kisses all over your face, eliciting giggles from you while Jake cannot help but to smile at the endearing sight.
When time passes by, you find yourself speeding on the highway as you sit behind Jake while Sunghoon rides next to his pal, riding against the vindictive wind, both eager to spend the whole night buried in you once more.
The sunlight filters through the window, casting a warm, gentle glow over your entwined figures on your bed while your room is filled with a much-needed tranquillity after last night’s intercourse. You have been wide awake for the past fifteen minutes, finding yourself nestled in between Jake and Sunghoon. Though the exertion prevails over your body, you feel oddly renewed with vitality with an attained satisfaction in you.
Sunghoon’s body feels warm as part of your body is laying on top of him with your limbs draped over him in an embrace. Your ear is pressed against his bare chest, allowing you to hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat that soothes you like a lullaby. Behind you, Jake has his arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you as though you are his bolster, while his face is snuggled against your nape, tickling you with his warm breath.
Though this feels nice and exactly what you really needed after a night of passion, your full bladder requires you to get off the bed in haste. You indulge yourself for a little while more as you bask in their warmth and scent that cocoon you before sighing softly and attempting to remove yourself from their grip.
Thankfully, Jake remains sound asleep as soon as you manage to escape his grip. You hover over Sunghoon in an attempt to get over the side of the bed, but just when your foot can meet the floor, you feel a harsh tug at your arm, eliciting a startled yelp from you as you find yourself falling onto Sunghoon’s chest.
You huff lightly as you lift your head to glare at Sunghoon, only to see his eyes closed. You attempt to get up again with your hands pressed down on his chest for support, but fail miserably again when you fall on top of his chest as he pulls you back down, your face meeting his neck that is tainted with your marks.
Sunghoon has you locked in his embrace, denying you any escape from him, but that doesn’t stop you from squirming. “Hoonie,” You whine, lifting your head to look at him and spotting his lips stretch into a lazy grin.
“Where do you think you’re going, princess?” Sunghoon’s morning voice sounds gravelly deeper than usual, awakening the butterflies in you, but it is obvious that he is half asleep.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” You tell him, but he disregards the urgency in your tone as he only tightens his grip on your waist. You sigh softly before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips, hoping that your gesture of affection would grant you the freedom. “Let me go, please?”
Surprisingly, Sunghoon releases you, and you quickly grasp the opportunity as you abandon him, even if your heart mourns at the loss of his warmth. You grab your towel and head straight for the bathroom to relieve your bladder promptly, forgetting how achy your limbs are. But before you can do so, your reflection in the mirror catches you off guard as you halt your steps.
Your eyes dart at the lines of hickeys on the right side of your neck while the other remains untainted. Fresh, purple hickeys from their lips and teeth. You recall how untamed they were in your room, claiming you as theirs over and over that sent you nearly into subspace. The dynamic power between Sunghoon and Jake was interesting, especially when one was more lenient and gentle towards you than the other, but you loved every second of it.
You shake your head at the licentious recollection and quickly attend to your bladder before hopping into the shower. It takes you quite some time until you finally step out of the bathroom and head straight for your closet as you clutch onto your towel that is wrapped around your bare body without sparing a glance at the two men on your bed who are still probably asleep.
After putting on your shorts, you proceed to wear your white tank top while making your way out of the closet before spotting Sunghoon and Jake surprisingly awake as they sit upright on the edge of your bed, albeit somnolence is present on their countenance. You can’t help but smile at how adorable they look — such a contrast to the sex beasts they were last night.
“Well, good morning! Had a really good sleep?” You greet them cheerily, your tone lacing with mischief that aligns with the mirthful grin on your lips. When your eyes roam around their half-nudity as they donned similar sweatpants, you nearly falter, your mouth watering at the sight of their toned muscles, especially their v-lines, while a sense of pride beams in your chest at the marks and scratches on their skin.
They remain unresponsive, as though their souls still linger in the realm of sleep. You chuckle softly to yourself, feeling quite amused to see them being the sleepy and weary ones instead of you this time. “I’ll see what I have in my fridge and make us breakfast.”
Jake immediately lifts his head up to meet your eyes, his hand reaching out to you while his pink, plump lips jut into a pout. “Sweetheart, where’s my morning kiss?” He whines, making your heart soar at how adorable he is being.
“Morning breaths, Jaeyunie.” You remind him while your nose scrunches at the thought, never mind the fact that his lips look utterly kissable with his raven, tousled bangs softening his features. Jake’s resolve remains unwavering as he continues to look at you with sparkling eyes and a pout, leaving you no choice but to indulge him.
“Fine, you big baby.” You roll your eyes playfully as you close the distance between you and him. Stopping in between his spread legs, you cup his cheeks, your thumbs stroking his skin tenderly as you gaze into his beautiful brown eyes before dipping your head and placing a kiss on the corner of his lips as well as the upper cupid lip.
“Happy?” You ask him softly, your lips curling into a smile that mirrors his, and before he can speak, you let out a startled yelp when strong arms yank you to him as he pulls you by the waist. “Park Sunghoon!”
Sunghoon ignores your complaint as he buries his face into your stomach while he remains seated. Your heart flutters at the rarity of his clinginess, eliciting a soft sigh from you before you rake your fingers through his hair gently. Your action as well as your fresh yet natural scent are nearly lulling him to sleep, but he knows that he can’t be selfish like he was last night, and so with reluctance, he releases you.
“Don’t pout. It doesn’t suit you.” You remark with a cheeky grin on your face, leaning down to place a kiss on Sunghoon’s forehead before ambling towards the door. “You can use the shower. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
You don’t wait for their response, eager to concoct edible breakfast for them since you rarely make a mess in your kitchen and ready to put your cooking skills to good use. As soon as you reach the kitchen, you tie your slightly damp hair into a messy bun before proceeding to work, your hands and feet moving methodically with a studious mind.
Time passes by quickly as you get immersed in your element, and before you know it, you are nearly done with the last batch of french toast. The only thing that is left is the classic omelette. Unbeknownst to you, a certain someone follows the trail of delectable smell wafting in the air that eventually leads him into the kitchen, spotting your beautiful back facing him.
Your focal point distorted the moment strong arms slither around your waist with his chest pressing against your back. You try to feign indifference, but the closeness of your body contact with his and his warm breath hitting the shell of your earlobe affects you more than they should, rendering your brain to go short-circuited.
“Smells good, sweetheart,” Jake whispers in your ear, his lips ghosting on your earlobe before he nips at it playfully with his teeth, eliciting a soft gasp from you. “I don’t mind waking up to this view every day.”
You feel him pressing his lips on the side of your neck, but the kisses he litters on your skin feel rather ticklish. “Jaeyun, stop! That tickles!” You let out uncontrollable giggles as you squirm in his tight embrace, your focus on the task at hand fades in the back of your mind, but thankfully, you are only left to set up the table.
Jake continues to attack you relentlessly with his kisses on your neck, particularly enjoying the way you try to extricate yourself from him, but fails miserably as you fall weak with giggles leaving your lips, before he turns you around with his hands on your hips and kisses you on the lips, leaving you no chance to compose yourself.
Just as you melt against his lips, a stern voice cuts through the air, shattering the shared intimacy emanating from you and Jake. “Stop hogging her all to yourself,” Sunghoon easily pulls you away from Jake, while the latter surprisingly makes no objection, allowing his best friend to have a taste of you as well.
“Hoonie,” You utter his name sweetly as you greet him with a smile, leaning into him with his arms cocooned you. Sunghoon’s eyes are swimming with irrevocable affection, love, and maybe a hint of familiar darkness as he gazes into your eyes before he dips his head down to capture your lips in a sweet, toe-curling kiss that melts you the same like you did with Jake.
Upon hearing Jake’s cough from behind you, Sunghoon takes the cue to part from your lips and quickly throws Jake a daggering glare before his gaze softens as he looks at your dazed countenance. “We’ll help you to set up the table.” Sunghoon murmurs, his affection remains in the way he strokes your cheek.
You peck his cheek in gratitude before doing the same to Jake after seeing his pouty lips. Sunghoon has had to drag Jake by force, especially when the latter clings to you like a Koala. It isn’t long until the three of you have finally settled at the kitchen island with both men sitting across from you.
There are only brief words exchanged between the three of you, mainly complimenting your cooking that renders you bashful, but most of the time, you eat your breakfasts in comfortable silence.
By the time you insist on washing the dishes for them with your back facing them, the two men exchange glances with a shared understanding passing silently between them as they mirror each other’s stance, leaning their lower back against the kitchen island behind them before one of them shatters the tranquillity.
“So, we haven’t really talked about what happened last night since we got busy.” Though Jake’s tone carries a familiar mirth at the mention of last night’s recollection, you discern an undercurrent of austerity that has you tense up. You bite down your lip, feeling their gaze burn through you from behind. You were hoping that the topic would remain disregarded.
“Yeah, princess, and we’re not entirely certain if Heeseung and Jay would forget about your behaviour last night either,” Sunghoon says so sternly with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you turning around slowly. When he examines your dreadful visage, his eyes soften, and he decides to display leniency in the way his tone carries. “Don’t be nervous. You know that we would never do anything to hurt you.”
You want to tell him that you already know that, given your newfound trust in them, which had been established after the reconciliation, but Jake steps forward, capturing your attention on him. “Just tell us why,” Jake demands, but his soft voice comes out like a plea that has your qualms allayed, as does the way his eyes look at you defeatedly. “Did we do something wrong?”
Although you still feel embarrassed to tell them the truth, you know that it will only cause a potential strain to your relationship with them if you avoid this confrontation any longer. You lower your gaze with diffidence cloaking you.
“It’s just that…over the previous weeks we’ve been spending time together, you all seemed to avoid having sex with me even after I gave you signs.” You finally divulge, albeit your voice sounding meek, and you fiddle with your fingers out of habit as you continue to express your concern. “At some point, it got me overthinking and wondering if I was no longer good enough for you to desire me like you did before.”
Jake’s instant warmth catches you off guard as he cups your cheeks, prompting you to meet his eyes that swirl with guilt. “I’m so sorry we made you feel that way, sweetheart,” Jake apologises with the utmost sincerity, his voice soft and affectionate. “We never intended to, and we never wanted you to feel like you’re not good enough for us.”
Sunghoon grabs your hand, drawing your attention to him. Your heart flutters at his gesture of kissing your palm before holding your hand tenderly. “We wanted to give you some distance and boundaries since we knew that being in a relationship with the four of us at once could be overwhelming for you.” His explanation is short, but enough for you to grasp it promptly in an understanding, and you feel touched by their consideration.
You open your mouth to speak, but Sunghoon cuts you off as he swiftly pulls you to him, his hands falling to your hips. Your breath hitches in your throat upon recognising the intensity of his dark gaze. “I know for a fact that it was hard to control myself around you when you always looked so─” He groans, letting his inhibition go and dipping his head down to kiss your throat as he presses his body against yours.
“So?” You giggle as he continues to tickle you with his lips on your neck before they journey to your ear, his teeth go nipping at your earlobe playfully.
“So fuckable every damn time.” His husky voice sends you the shivers, and his growing bulge feels prominent against your lower region, eliciting a soft gasp from you. Sunghoon presses one last kiss on your pulse just below your ear, his grip becoming possessive. “And so mine,”
Jake rolls his eyes at his best friend, already feeling the heat radiating from the latter before he easily snatches you away from him and places his hands on your waist, ensuring your attention on him instead. “You’re not mad at us anymore, right?”
“I wasn’t mad at you, not entirely.” You reassure him quickly, especially after seeing how he resembles a disheartened puppy. You cast them a sheepish smile. “Just a little frustrated and needy.”
“Don’t keep things from us anymore, princess,” Sunghoon tells you with the utmost seriousness with firm eyes, but his affection gesture in patting your head gently has your heart swelling. “You need to let us know about anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or frustrated.”
Jake nods his head in agreement. “Hoon’s right. We never want you to feel neglected by us, so please don’t hesitate to tell us anything, even if you want us to fuck you like we did last night." A mischievous smirk touches his lips, causing the temperature in your cheeks to rise. Jake kisses your forehead. “I love you, my sweet girl.”
“I love you too, Jaeyunie.” You reciprocate affectionately, your eyes swimming with love, before you look at Sunghoon with a soft smile on your lips. “Love you too, Hoonie.”
Sunghoon mirrors your smile before placing one last kiss on your cheek. “We’d love to stay a little longer, but Jake and I actually have emergencies at work to attend to,” He informs as he checks his phone, but sensing your disappointment, he looks back at you with a reassuring gaze. “If you’re bored, you can head over to our penthouse instead and make yourself at home.”
“Plus, I’m sure that Heeseung and Jay would be more than welcome to have you there,” Jake adds, but the thought of them only brings incertitude to dawn on you.
“I don’t know, Jae,” You utter unsurely, lowering your gaze. You can’t lie that you feel timorous at the thought of seeing them after last night, especially when you can recall the look in Heeseung’s eyes.
“You should have a talk with them, love, or else they’ll keep worrying about you,” Jake strongly encourages, and you know that you have no choice but to agree. His hand slides down to his pocket before taking out a white card and giving it to you. “Here’s my keycard.”
“I can drive you to our penthouse on my way to work if you want.” Sunghoon offers as soon as you accept the keycard from Jake.
“Thank you.” You give him a smile of gratitude, but your nerves remain jittered, and yet, deep down, you feel a keen sense of anticipation of what the remainder of the day awaits you.
The time strikes nearly noon by the time Sunghoon drops you off at the main lobby of the high-rise building. After much deliberation, you finally find yourself in the elevator as it ascends you to the highest level. Out of habit, you fiddle with the familiar ring that is hooked with a necklace, seeking some form of alleviation to distract you from the incessant jittery that seems to intensify as soon as you arrive at their unit.
Releasing a shaky breath, you step out of the elevator and dawdle in the direction of their unit, which is rather straightforward as you spot the door instantly ahead of you. Your hand clutching on the strap of your tote bag tightens as the distance between you and the door decreases.
You internally curse yourself at how your overthinking gets the best of you. This is stupid, getting all jittered because you provoked them on a whim last night, but the expression on both Heeseung and Jay’s countenance burnt in your memory, most specifically the look in Heeseung’s eyes that sent you waves of both familiarity and disquietude.
You can still vividly recall the emotions that you were able to decipher in those dark, mesmerising eyes of his ─ a disconcerting concoction of amusement, ire, and jealousy despite his impassive facade. Just the intensity of his gaze alone is enough to penetrate you chillingly in the bones.
Maybe Jay would show you leniency, but the air of uncertainty is potent at the thought of Heeseung showing the same leniency, especially after seeing and experiencing how proprietorial he could become as a specific recollection comes to mind ─ when Beomgyu merely protected you from getting hit by a volleyball on that peach party last year.
Sure, Heeseung has changed from the guy you first met in university to the man of your dreams, but a part of you is heedful to the fact that his possessive nature remains unchanged, and you worry it would get the best of him, recalling how he would remind you who you really belonged to, yet it felt undeniable good to be fucked by him when his possessive nature took control of every thread of rationality.
You squeeze your thighs together at the recollection as you present yourself before the imposing door, getting turned on at an inopportune time when your jitters presently remain unabating in you as your rationality recognises the gravity of last night’s temerity. Honestly, deep down, you know that you are the same sick and twisted as them.
You shake your head at yourself in disapproval and quickly dispel any indecorous thoughts before retrieving Jake’s keycard in your bag and tapping it on the smart lock attached to the door as it makes a beeping sound. Tucking your bottom between your teeth, you muster courage as you latch your hand on the lever handle before pushing it down to open and stepping past the threshold, hearing the door lock behind you.
The familiar view of the entry hallway that leads you to the main foyer greets you, and you hold your breath as you await Jay or Heeseung to walk past, but it never happens. You feel a tad relief before focusing on removing your shoes, but as you face downward, your heart nearly sinks upon seeing a pair of gorgeous red heels placed neatly on the shoe rack.
There is no way that they bought these heels for you because they know that you hate wearing heels unless there is a special occasion or formal event. You swallow down your spit harshly, refusing to make an assumption despite your suspicion, but the jealousy that coupled with hurt throbbing in your veins hinders you from thinking of anything other than the reason they have a lady over, which serves as revenge because of what happened at the club.
However, a vying thread of rationality weaves through your heart, momentarily quelling the fiery jealousy that feels borderline possessive. They would never do something deplorable, not when they have changed ever since they reunited with you, you know that much. Still, you want to know who they have invited over.
After you slip on the familiar fleecy house shoes that they specifically bought the pink ones for you, you proceed to venture further until you finally reach the main foyer. You place your tote bag on the rounded marble table that is situated at the centre before getting distracted by the beauty of this section of the penthouse.
You amble forward, your eyes surveying the interior. Though you have been here over the course of two weeks, the penthouse still amazes you every time. It is too bad that it’s only temporary residency, but then again, the beauty of the mansion that awaits them, including you, is unparalleled.
The corner of your lips tilts into a small smile, feeling giddy at the thought of spending forever with them, but you are immediately pulled out of your reverie at the sound of footsteps that reach your ears, prompting you to turn around.
Your heart does a little leap as soon as your gaze lands on Heeseung, and even from distances away, his presence alone is potent and exudes dominance even if he doesn’t utter a word. Though he is merely sporting a plain black sleeveless tee that complements his dark grey sweatpants, he manages to pull off a simple look that is highly appealing.
When your eyes immediately lock with his, you feel a spark of anticipation amidst the turmoil as you recognise the intensity in his dark gaze that is similar to the way he looked at you at the nightclub. With his hands tucked in his pockets, he ambles towards you, and yet his steps seem hauntingly deliberate, like a stealthy predator studying its prey, especially in the way his eyes penetrate every part of you that feels rather invasive.
As the distance between you and him decreases, heat courses through your body on instinct while your heartbeat goes erratic, and if you are being bluntly honest, you desire to pounce on him and get him to fuck you until your mind is filled with nothing except him and his cock. You berate yourself silently once more for these licentious thoughts, but you can’t really help it when the man you are lusting over is Lee Heeseung.
“Heeseung,” You finally greet him steadily, albeit your voice comes out meek. You can feel every bit of your resolve crumbling as his dark eyes penetrate into yours, and it is as though the emotions swimming in them are giving you a preview of what will escalate next.
In return, you receive silence from him, but his eyes never leave yours. Instead of awkwardness, you feel tension brewing in the air that renders you electrified yet uncertain, especially when his next moves have always been unpredictable.
“I hope you don’t mind me coming over without informing you.” You know that neither ever mind your unannounced arrival, but you decide to ramble anyway in an attempt to ease the tension that feels familiarly oppressive. “Jake gave me his keycard. They told me that I could make myself at home here if I ever got bored.”
This time, his lips unfurl a soft yet lethal smirk, appreciating the fact that he still has the effect on you and clearly enjoying the way you seem edgy as he tantalises you unrelentingly. You slowly back away from him, oblivious to the object behind you that will hinder you from possibly evading him. You can’t hold back anymore, displaying your disquietude. “Heeseung─”
Your breath hitches in your throat as he closes the gap with one long stride, and at the same time you hit the edge of the marbled table behind you. The close proximity between you and him intensifies the cocktail of emotions moving erratically within you. His cologne, his imposing presence, and just everything about him feel dangerously potent.
With his eyes pinning yours firmly, you don’t dare to look away from him, having a keen sense that he would be displeased if you did. You can hear your pulse drumming loudly in your ears as his hand ascends to cradle your cheek, causing you to feel tense as you feel the danger under the heat of his touch, but when his eyes soften, you relax a hair and lean into his touch, oblivious to the devilry swirls obscurely behind his soften gaze.
“Are you feeling fine now?” Heeseung asks, his tone sounding deceptively mellow, and yet you fail to heed, only focusing on the way he is being tender and affectionate in the way he holds you.
“I’m fine,” You affirm, though you feel confused by his question, and since you’re not really good at masking your emotions, your eyes display curious confusion, eliciting a smirk from him while you instantly feel the chills of prudence. “Why did you ask me that?”
“Because I’m sure Jake and Sunghoon didn’t go easy on you last night,” Heeseung drawls, and you sense the danger beneath the heat of his touch while familiar devilry remains curving at the corner of his lips. “If they didn’t, then I’d be happy to be the one to do so, especially after the cute stunt you pulled at the club with your friend.”
You don’t respond, faltering as he drags his thumb tantalisingly down your jawline until he grabs your chin assertively and tilts your head to lock eye contact with him.
Your heart pounds harder against your chest as you see the predatory glint in his eyes while his thumb gets busy placing on your luscious lower lip and pulling it down — an intimate gesture that has your eyelids go hooded and your core is ignited with heat.
Heeseung holds back a groan, restraining himself further from showing you that he is not always a man of clemency, but you look so utterly fuckable right now to the point where you’d look even better ruined by him ─ unadulterated lust swimming in those pretty hooded eyes of yours, your luscious lips begging to be bruised by his kisses, the entirety of you being docile. He wants nothing more than to make love with you until the next sun has risen, despite the fact that he is still pissed off about last night.
You can’t lie amidst the turmoil and fear towards the man standing before you; you desire him to reclaim you like he did, to fuck you until you are reduced to nothing but fucked dumb by his cock that you know will hit the right spot constantly. You can see it in his eyes ─ his inner demons are close to breaking free from the shackles to devour you all-consumingly without any inhibition.
“Are you mad at me about last night, Seungie?” You ask softly, mustering the courage to become audacious, as you know that it is what is needed for the last thread of his restraint to snap. Adding fuel to fire, you lick the tip of his thumb that remains on your lower lip before biting his thumb sensually with facetious mischief curving at your lips as you see the way his eyes darken dangerously.
Like a killswitch, Heeseung’s mind is altered in a way that is now devoid of rationality and generosity, but he allows your mischief to prolong as you bite and lick his thumb, your eyes displaying a hint of defiance and provocation before he finally retaliates.
Your confidence falters upon seeing the dark, predacious intent on his visage, causing your breath to hitch. “What do you think, pretty girl?” His voice sounds gruffly callous, laced with venom while he presses his thumb down on your tongue, and yet you feel aroused more than you should feel fearful of him.
Heeseung removes his thumb from your mouth, giving you no opportunity to utter any sound as he crashes his lips into yours with an intensity that is unlike anything he has ever kissed you, while the impact ruptures your stability, sending you colliding with the table behind you, but your hands haphazardly finding their way to hold onto him.
There is an unmistakable ferocity in the way he is kissing you, his lips moving against yours urgently with fierce hunger, as though he is anchoring himself to this moment, to you. You try to keep up with him, but even his lips manage to reign dominance over you, and you melt against him, having fallen weak. Without breaking the heated lip lock, Heeseung grabs you by the waist and lifts you with ease, settling you on the marbled table and standing in between your legs.
You whimper against his unforgiving lips, feeling every ounce of his pent-up emotions pouring into the kiss that threatens to consume you. His vice-like grip on your waist feels minacious, almost as if he is daring you to try and evade him, but you have no plans involving separating yourself from him, not when your depravity has longed for this, for Heeseung to intoxicate you like he used to back in Seoul.
Even your beating heart misses the old Lee Heeseung, the man whom you knew was without any clemency in his dark, twisted soul and your white devil’s knight. Right now, you can feel the old him just by his addictive taste on your lips.
You gasp softly for air as soon as his lips part from yours, only to feel the instant pleasurable sensation when they attach to your skin as he trails a scorching path on your neck. You pant lightly with need as he pulls you towards him by your thighs roughly, causing your core to bump into his that feels distinctly bulging.
“Hee,” You whine needily, letting the last thread of your inhibitions go as you begin to move your hips sensually. His grip on your thighs tightens as you grind against him, feeling his cock beneath the confines sensitive just by the mere contact. He continues to assault your neck ─ kissing, licking, and biting down your skin to leave his mark, to leave a constant reminder that you belong to him.
You arch into him at the pleasurable sensation of his teeth bruising the sensitive spot of your neck that mingles with pain while your soft moans spur him further. He finishes off his masterpiece with a lick on your fresh hickey before he trails his hungry kisses up your jawline to your lips.
Instead of kissing you like you expected, his lips brush against yours tantalisingly, eliciting a whine from you as you cease grinding shamelessly against him, your fingers fisting the material of his shirt impatiently. Cruelty plays on the curve of his lips as he recognises the utter desperation and lust potent in your eyes.
“Pretty girl, you shouldn’t have danced with your friend last night, let alone to let him touch you the way he shouldn’t.” His tone drips with familiar condescension as he grips your thighs again before pressing his bulge into your core that is throbbing with incessant need.
“Seungie, please,” You plead in a whimper, trying to chase for his lips and bucking your hips, but his vice-like grip on your thighs prevents you from reattaining what your aching clit needs while he simply disregards your request. You feel the loss of his hand on your thigh, only to feel taken aback when his fingers curl around your neck, loose enough to allow oxygen to pass through but firm enough to assert his dominance over you.
“You shouldn’t even have pissed me off in the first place, pretty girl,” Heeseung nearly growls out before he reclaims your lips in an all-encompassing kiss that overwhelms your every sense while he remains in control with his grip on your neck.
You mewl into the kiss, feeling your brain going into overdrive, but you never want this moment to end, even if it feels punishing. His teeth sink into your lower lip, sending you a prickling sensation at the impact of his bite, but your eyes roll to the back in pleasure as he tugs and sucks your lower lip before he thrusts his tongue into your hot cavern, licking every inch.
You feel his grip on your neck loosen as your tongues dance heatedly against one another, eliciting breathy moans from you at the pleasurable sensation of how wet and sloppy the kiss is escalating. His hands drop to your underthighs, to which you take it as a silent command to wrap your legs around his waist with your arms locked around his neck before he proceeds to carry you with ease.
Heeseung breaks the kiss to manoeuvre you towards one of the living rooms, further away from where you were originally. You get busy with trailing your lips down his neck, kissing and nipping his skin that elicits a low guttural groan from him, teasing him as you know he is sensitive, especially at where his Adam’s apple is.
“Fuck, if you keep doing that─” He grits his teeth as soon as you nip on his Adam’s apple before licking it and attempting to edge him, and it works when his fingers dig deep into the plushness of your underthighs. “Don’t fucking tease me.”
With a growl so deep emanating from him that resonates down your essence, you barely have time to process the beast you just triggered when Heeseung tosses you onto the modular sofa without any consideration of gentleness, but you are quick to recover, turning around to face him before attempting to back away from him.
“Where are you trying to escape, pretty girl?” Heeseung growls out again, his eyes darkening with primal lust and giving zero fucks about being tender since this is clearly what you wanted. He can see it in your eyes ─ you want this, and you want him to obliterate your every sense as he fucks you senselessly, but he is not going to give you what you want just yet.
“I wasn’t trying to─” You gasp softly as he grabs you by the ankle and pulls you towards him, your skirt bunching up to your hips. You feign defiance, attempting to close your legs, but a yelp leaves your lips when he deftly removes your underwear that is slightly damp with your slick arousal.
“Pissing me off last night was one thing.” He snarls coldly as he forcefully spreads your legs open, presenting him with your bare cunt that glistens with your arousal. Though you are not fighting him, he presses down his palms on your inner thighs firmly. “Doing it on purpose was another. You really love pushing our buttons, don’t you?”
You barely have time to enunciate your words when Heeseung dives into you, his tongue dancing across your slick folds before wrapping his lips around your sensitive nub and licking it. The sensation of his tongue flicking and swirling your clit sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling through you, causing you to arch your back off the sofa beneath you.
“Seungie,” Your soft moans that sound melodious in his ears spur him on, prompting him to release your wet nub that is lathered by his saliva with a faint pop, and his tongue journeys down your sensitive flesh before delving into your sopping cunt with stringent purpose.
You can feel the intensity amplify as he continues to fuck you with his skilled tongue like a hungry caveman, almost as though he had been dying to get a taste of you, but this time, each stroke and thrust feel punishing enough to send you hurtling to the edge of ecstasy quicker than you like.
“Don’t stop, please,” Your voice thickens with desire as you buck your hips up to feel his tongue deeper than it already is, but he presses your thighs down, depriving you of moving and forcing you to take everything he gives. You struggle in his vice-like grip, shuddering at the palpable intensity. “Seungie, I’m gonna cum.”
As soon as those words leave your mouth, his movement becomes fervent to the point where you can hear the obscene wetness as he laps your quivering cunt. Your moans go a higher pitch when he rubs your clit with his thumb, amplifying your pleasure that reaches to a crescendo.
With his tongue and thumb working in an efficient tandem that sends your head delirious, your orgasm is teetering at the precipice while tension coils tighter within you. Before you know it, you come undone violently with your palm muffling your moans and your eyes rolling to the back at divine sensation.
But Heeseung doesn’t stop there even after you come ─ his thumb relentlessly rubbing your sensitive clit that has your body convulsing while his tongue greedily laps your sticky essence. You writhe in his lethal hold as the sensitivity is overwhelming, and yet, your clit throbs familiarly again as his thumb works its magic again.
It looks like Heeseung is not stopping anytime soon, and it baffles you that he seems rather content burying his face into your mound without having to take a breather. It’s like he would rather be suffocated by your pussy happily, considering how vigorous he is being.
“Hee! No more!” You plead out in a weak cry, your body squirming and trying to evade him, but he only tightens his grip on your thighs and spreads your legs even wider before latching his lips on your clit. “It’s too much!”
When you lift your head to look at him, your heart pounds harder against your chest as his dark eyes bore into yours intensely with a familiar wickedness. You try to move again, but your defiance earns you a smack on your thigh with a startled gasp leaving your lips. Yet the stinging pain is coupled with the pleasure that coils in your tummy.
Releasing your clit with a wet ‘pop’, Heeseung smacks it, eliciting a whimper from you before he does it again while the action amplifies the pleasurable sensation as he proceeds to rub your nearly-swollen clit with an unsparing vehemence that aligns with the smirk playing on his lips.
“No more? Too much for my pretty girl?” He sneers as he mocks your pleas, his tone dripping with degradation that sends you waves of intoxication. “You don’t seem to understand, my love. You’re going to take whatever I give you and take it like the good girl you were. It’s what you deserve after pissing me off last night.”
Without letting up his ministration on your clit, he hovers over your pliant figure and takes you by surprise when his fingers go curling around your neck, forcing you to look into his dark eyes that swirl with lust and sadistic delight. “Come on, pretty. I know you still have it in you. Don’t disappoint your Seungie now, yeah?”
Your heart skips a beat as you stare at him in genuine shock, because right now, the Heeseung above you is the Heeseung back in Seoul. It’s what you wanted, after all, because deep down inside of you, you’re just as twisted as him when the corner of your lips twitch into a faint smirk, having been successful at awakening the demon that lay dormant within him.
But you falter when you choke out a moan as he plunges three fingers into your wet cunt without warning, delving rhythmically yet unyieldingly strong that has you seeing stars in your vision, almost as if he is forcing out something even greater than your previous orgasm.
You are reduced to nothing but mewls and moans that you attempt to keep at a minimum, your head lacking any coherency due to the building pleasure coiling tighter and tighter within you for the second time. Your hips move in tandem with his ruthless fingers, but it isn’t enough, and so you take him by surprise as you wrap your legs around his waist.
Heeseung pays no mind to that, not when he is entirely mesmerised by the pure ecstasy contorting in your face while neglecting his cock that is begging to be inside of you. He wonders why the fuck did he even refrain himself from going beyond intimacy with you, especially when you look beautiful just being nearly fucked out by his fingers.
“Oh god,” You gasp as he curls the tips of his fingers, hitting your g-spot relentlessly while you cry out in a frenzied pleasure with your hips bucking wildly. as your cunt is being battered just by his skilled fingers alone. The intensity amplifies as he rubs your clit stringently with the padding of his palm, hurtling you to the edge. “Fuck! Seungie! I’m so close─”
“Let it go for me, now,” On his command, you explode, your release coming out in gushes of clear fluids from your battered cunt with your body convulsing as intense waves of pleasure wash over you like a torrential rainstorm, rendering you putty in his hands.
Even as your release prolongs, his fingers continue to pump into your cunt, helping you to ride out your orgasm while a whimper leaves your lips at the sensitivity with your legs quivering. He withdraws his fingers just as you finally come down from your high and removes his grip on your neck.
Seeing as you are still recovering with your eyelids going slightly droopy, Heeseung holds back an amused smile and proceeds to grab some tissues on the coffee table behind him before wiping your slick release on your mound and thighs. You can barely feel him assisting in putting your underwear back on as your legs feel entirely numb from the exertion.
You lazily turn your head to look at Heeseung as he hovers above you again, and this time, the dark intensity in his eyes is replaced by familiar tenderness. “Wrap your legs and arms around me, sweetheart,” He murmurs, and you whine in response as you feel entirely languid to even lift a limb, but he is not having any of that. “I know you can do it, pretty girl.”
You know that you can’t go against his command that is uttered softly with a tinge of firmness, and so you wrap your arms around his neck while forcing your legs to do the same around his waist slowly, but thankfully, he provides assistance with his hands gripping your legs.
Once you latch yourself on him, Heeseung embraces you with his dependable arms before lifting you up and carrying you elsewhere. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you spot your own fluids all over the floor while there is a wet spot on the couch where you were earlier.
Wordlessly, Heeseung brings you to their mini kitchen bar and places you on the kitchen island. You watch him with curious eyes as he grabs a small towel and a bottle of mineral water from the fridge before he returns to you, his face remaining impassive.
“Drink. You need it,” He says as he gives you the bottle. You utter a faint gratitude to him before unscrewing the cap and drinking the cold water that you never knew you needed to quench your thirst. All the while, your eyes remain on him, watching as he wipes the spots he missed on your skin while holding your leg firmly yet tenderly.
Your heart flutters just by his every gesture, and when his eyes flicker to yours, the flutters in your tummy intensify as the connection between your mere eye contact with him deepens. He looks away briefly to focus on the task at hand before placing the towel on the countertop next to you.
You bite down your lip, contemplating breaking the palpable tension in the air. “Hee, are you still mad at me?” You ask tentatively, your voice coming out meeker than you intended. He doesn’t respond, and instead, he traps you with his palms on the surface next to your sides while his stern eyes lock you in place. You try to melt his resolve with your doe eyes and your lips jutting into a pout. “Heeseung.”
Still, no response, and so you resort to the last option as you place your hands on the sides of his neck before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. You can feel him melting against you before he finally caves in, kissing you back with a deepened passion that has your toes curling.
“I love you.” You manage to murmur against his lips in between kisses, your heart pounding against your chest as his arms slither around your waist to pull you closer to him, craving the intimacy that he never knew he needed.
Heeseung hums in response while the vibration from his lips tingles on yours. Though there are no words exchanged, the way his lips move against yours as he kisses you with a different passion than the previous speaks volume, and it feels like he never wants to let go of you anytime sooner.
But then, a matter surfaces in your mind that had been neglected due to your incessant need for him, causing you to part from the lip-lock ─ the red heels you saw earlier.
Heeseung feels how your body begins to go taut with tension, but is oblivious to the reason why as he continues to journey his kisses to your cheeks down to your neck, not having enough of you. On the other hand, you are torn between feeling unfazed by his lips and getting suspicious of what you had seen earlier.
“Heeseung, wait,” You gasp as soon as he nips at your skin, prompting you to grip his broad shoulders in an attempt to show him that you mean serious business. “Do you have a girl over?”
The question dispels the air of intimacy that wraps around the two of you while he tenses up at the question before slowly pulling away from your neck, only for his heart to sink at the glinting hurt and disappointment in your eyes despite your collected demeanour.
“I saw a pair of red heels earlier.” You utter quietly, your insecurities crawling their way to poison your mind, but you maintain firm eye contact with him. “Heeseung, if there is something that you’re keeping from me─”
“It’s not what you think, my love.” Heeseung cuts you off gently as he cups your cheeks, in contrast to the way his mind is wrecked with panic chaos that you would think so lowly of him. He can see a glint of mistrust in your pretty eyes despite leaning into his touch, eliciting a resigned sigh from him. He grabs your hand and tugs you with him. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Once you hop off the kitchen island, Heeseung gently pulls you with him as he guides you to another place somewhere in this broad penthouse. On your way, you manage to spot the time on the digital clock that hangs on the wall, and your brain does a quick calculation of how long Heeseung had kept you occupied. Your cheeks go warm at the dawning conclusion as soon as you finish calculating the approximate time ─ he managed to bring out two orgasms out of you in a span of seven minutes.
It isn’t long until you hear a feminine voice that mingles with Jay’s as Heeseung brings you towards the familiar dining room that is adjacent to where the entrance to the rooftop garden is.
Your eyes immediately settle on Jay and the brunette seated across from him, and even from a distance away, you can discern her strong aura and confidence in the way she presents herself. You can’t deny the fact that she is gorgeous, and in the way she dresses, there is no doubt that she is a businesswoman.
Oh, you got worried and nearly upset over nothing.
Whoever she is, it is obvious that she is a client while there are several documents on the table, but still, it doesn’t look like they are discussing business-related matters when she is giggling at whatever Jay said. Your eyes narrow at the flirtatious curve on her lips. Since Jay’s back is facing you, it’s hard to read his expression, but Heeseung can easily recognise the way his best friend’s body language seems taut with tension that derives from his frustration towards his client.
Heeseung takes a quick glance at you, noticing the dissatisfaction written across your countenance, and he squeezes your hand gently to ease you, but it does nothing to dispel the growing jealousy in you as your eyes glare at the woman's hand touching Jay's rather comfortably. He presses his lips thinly as his attempt is rendered futile before clearing his throat to announce their presence amidst the brewing tension.
Jay turns around and immediately locks eyes with you, disregarding his client, who remains vying for his attention despite being aware of the other two's presence in the vicinity. He abandons his seat and heads over to you, his face unreadable, but as you examine him closely, he looks worried as he should be.
“Baby, what are you doing here?” Jay asks softly, his eyes and his body language in the way he approaches you are both measured and cautious, as he is not oblivious to the tension mounting in the present.
You refuse to be the jealous, possessive girlfriend who is entirely bothered that a gorgeous lady is within your boyfriend’s radius, but it can’t be helped when your insecurities begin to influence your rationality.
“So I can’t pay you a visit now because you have a guest over?” You snap at him against your better judgement as you feel offended by his harmless question. You ignore the way Heeseung’s grip tightens around your hand, a silent conveyor of warning from him.
Jay stops in his tracks as soon as he recognises the hostility exuding from you, rendering him frustrated because not only did his client piss him off but he never wants you to misunderstand the situation. “That’s not what I─” He pauses as you scoff out in disbelief, knowing that it is useless to reason with you when you’re evidently upset.
Jay meets Heeseung’s eyes briefly, receiving the latter’s message not to make things potentially worse before he looks away with his jaw clenched and eventually releases a sigh as he turns his body sideways where his client can see you.
“This is my client, Sienna,” Jay informs you, albeit there is a certain edge in his tone that aligns with the tension between you and him. He merely casts a glance at his client. “Sienna, this is Y/N. She’s someone important to me.”
A big mistake on his part when he should have introduced you as his girlfriend. Your ire becomes tenfold as you release another scoff that reaches his ears, prompting him to look at you again, and this time, his strong gaze levels to yours, almost as if he is trying to tame your tempestuous emotions within you.
Sienna’s sharp eyes burn through you, pulling your attention away from Jay. Her eyes scan you from head to toe, and the subtle disgust in her countenance does not go unnoticed by you, but when she meets your eyes, a smile graces her scarlet lips, albeit a tight one that signifies insincerity.
But she merely acknowledges you with a head nod before shifting her attention to Jay, looking entirely engrossed by him, and it is sickening to you. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’ve never met a good businessman like you before, Jay.” Her tone sounds sultry, clearly crossing beyond professionalism, especially in the way she leers at him. “You just single-handedly raised my standards.”
It genuinely peeves you that she merely disregards your existence and is practically shooting heart eyes at Jay, and your dampened mood turns sour when Jay seems to reciprocate with a smirk on his handsome face. “You really are a flatterer,” He tells her, but you overlook the coldness on his lips and his dark, flinty eyes, completely unaware of his next step.
Sienna, oblivious to heed Jay’s looming cruelty and the tension that reaches its peak, beams gingerly with a smile. “How about we take a break? I bought us a fine wine.” She grabs the bottle of wine that has been displayed on the table at the side before looking over to Heeseung with sultry eyes as she bites down her lips. “Heeseung can join us as well.”
So she knows Heeseung’s name as well? Your nose flares slightly in anger, unable to tame your aggravating emotions within you, most especially the fact that you feel possessive over your men, and it is maddening.
“Please excuse me while I head upstairs to rest.” You announce with an unconcealing indignation as you yank your hand from Heeseung’s. You don’t bother to look at their faces, knowing that Sienna is probably smug.
“Y/N─” You ignore Heeseung’s calling and hastily walk away from him before he can even hold you back. First things first, you need to retrieve your bag at the main foyer.
“I wonder what’s her problem,” Sienna remarks, feigning genuine concern as her eyes move from your distant figure to the two men, only to be taken aback by the shift in the air with an unpleasant palpable tension.
“You can drop the act, Sienna.” Jay drops all pretences, revealing his true, unfiltered callous nature that he displays to others who are not his loved ones. There are no traces of the previous cordiality on his austere countenance. “Not only did you disrespect me with that cheap wine, but you also disrespected my woman.”
Sienna instantly falters, her sheer confidence dissipating into thin air. “W-What?” Her voice trembles the same way she wants to instinctively cower from them as she discerns the palpable menace exuding from the two men.
Jay remains indifferent as he takes slow, deliberate steps towards the table with his hand tucked in his pocket. “I’m going to have to reject your proposal.”
“Wait! You can’t just reject my proposal!” Sienna abruptly rises from her seat while the fear is eclipsed by indignation as clear in her glaring eyes. “Do you even know who I am?!”
“I don’t give a fuck who you are, but the moment you disrespected my woman, I saw no value in everything about you and your business.” Jay snarls coldly, his potent wrath towards her, who had upset his woman, fuses with the tension in the air.
“You can’t do this!” Sienna exclaims exasperatedly, reeking of desperation that has Heeseung grimacing while he watches them with calculated eyes.
“Oh, but I can,” Jay counters snidely with an overpowering confidence, knowing that his influence over business transactions that concern his company is unparalleled. “Besides, you hardly brought anything relevant to the table other than eye-fucking my best friend and blatantly flirting with your potential client.” Heeseung lets out a desirive chuckle at his best friend’s comment.
“This is ridiculous! You even reciprocated!” Sienna begins to be vehemently defensive as she accuses Jay, but tears of embarrassment fill her waterline.
“Reciprocated? I was only tolerating you to see how far you would go,” Jay smirks cruelly, revelling in the way he is crushing her self-esteem. Besides, it’s what she gets for blatantly disrespecting you. “And when you brought out the wine, which my past clients have never done since it obviously crossed a professional setting at least in my book, I knew that your purpose here wasn’t any business related.”
She opens her mouth to retort, but Jay cuts her off sharply. “Before you threaten me, let’s not forget that I can easily do some damage to your company’s reputation with a snap of my fingers.”
Sienna knows that she is powerless against Jay, and it is not only his assertion that affects her withering confidence, but the fact that she is heedful enough to be conscious of the danger surrounding the two men. Immediately, she goes to pack her stuff, her hands trembling as she does so due to their eyes burning menacingly straight into her.
She doesn’t spare any second to make her leave, but just as she intends to walk past Heeseung, the guy blocks her way, eliciting a startled yet fearful gasp from her. “The next time I see you again and you have the audacity to disrespect Y/N, you’ll have me to deal with.” Heeseung sounds eerily calm with a collected demeanour, but it intensifies her fear as she notices the cruelty in those eyes of his. “Now get out of here, and don’t you ever let me see you again."
Sienna nods her head before walking around Heeseung and practically bolting her way out. Once she is out of sight, Jay heaves a sigh, frustrated at the situation, and it is even worse when his pent-up emotions from last night have yet to be dealt with.
“Do you want to check on her or should I do it?” Heeseung breaks the silence, his voice neutral, but his attentive eyes notice the sheer distress on Jay’s face.
“You’ll do it instead. She probably doesn’t want to see my face,” Jay tells him sullenly as he runs his fingers through his now-tousled hair.
Heeseung presses his lips thinly, disapproving Jay’s lack of initiative even though he should be selfishly happy that your ire is directed more towards the latter. “You should clear the misunderstanding soon. You do know that Y/N is the type to overthink about this.” His tone holds a knowingness while Jay tenses up at his reminder, but Heeseung doesn’t wait for whatever reason Jay decides to give as he proceeds to find you.
On the other hand, you have sought comfort in Jake’s room, busily changing into his clothes that fit you loosely yet just nicely. Of course, you have no idea what has happened, and you refuse to think further before you finally resort to burrowing yourself in Jake’s bedsheet that smells like him.
Instantly, your frayed nerves mollify as you smother your face in his pillow, his scent providing you the comfort you needed. Then comes the sheer exhaustion, and maybe it’s from last night’s activity that finally dawns on you as your eyelids grow heavier with each passing second. Plus, Heeseung did give you two quickest yet impactful orgasms earlier.
Just as your consciousness begins to fade, your heart rate quickens when the door slowly opens, prompting you to face the other way and refusing to deal with any of them.
“Beloved?” Heeseung’s gentle voice breaks through you, and it takes every strength to restrain yourself from caving into your yearning to seek comfort in his arms. Your body tenses up as you feel the bed dip from behind.
“Are you asleep?” He asks in a murmur as he finally scoots closer to your frail form. Hearing no response from you, he sighs softly but remains in his spot.
You expect him to give up and leave you alone to dwell, but your heart pounds harder against your chest as he wraps his arm around your waist, his hand moving beneath Jake’s hoodie that you adorned and caressing your tummy in a soothing motion.
“Don’t be too upset, sweetheart.” Heeseung speaks softly to you as he hugs you from behind with your back pressing against his chest. “You know that you’re the only woman we’re in love with.”
It is inevitable to resist him as you find yourself melting in his warm embrace that cocoons you. You allow your tensed body to relax and snuggle into him like a kitten. Your heart flutters as he gives you a tender kiss on your neck before burying his face in your nape while his arm tightens protectively around you.
The silence grows comfortable, and soon enough, your consciousness begins to wane with Heeseung hugging and lulling you to sleep.
You never knew that a nap was essential until the moment you are roused awake by the stark absence of Heeseung’s warmth that cocooned you earlier. Still, you find it taxing to even lift a limb as you remain anchored to Jake’s bed, but your hand eventually reaches out for your phone on the nightstand to check the time.
Your eyes widen instantly as they glue to your lock screen, in complete disbelief that this is by far the longest nap you have ever taken, but then again, the four-hour nap was very much needed as it seems to have invigorated you, both inside and out. In fact, the unpleasant encounter with Jay’s client seems laughable to you now.
Your stomach begins to grumble out of hunger, and so you begrudgingly abandon the bed to head to the bathroom and wash your face. Since Jake and Sunghoon did tell you to make yourself at home, you will rummage through their fridge and cupboards for ingredients to cook something edible.
On your way to the main kitchen, you busily clip up your hair, your face devoid of emotions as nothing is disrupting your inner peace other than the anticipation of appeasing your hunger. But a delectable smell wafting in the air soon infiltrates your senses, prompting you to slow down the pace as you nearly arrive at your intended destination.
You stop dead in your tracks as soon as your eyes settle on Jay’s form while he seems to be engrossed in whatever he’s doing. Alas, your mood sours. You had been hoping to avoid him in the meantime, while as for Heeseung, you feel the strings of hesitation pulling you away to put your distance from him too until you are ready with your emotions rallied and resolve aligned with rationality.
Since you’re obviously unprepared and hungry, you know you can’t afford to tuck yourself away in Jake’s room again, and so you decide to avoid eye contact and be nonverbal towards him at all costs. You pull up the hood in an attempt for coverage before you take a step forward.
Jay’s senses never fail to amaze you, because the second you stand by the entrance of the kitchen, he turns around and locks eyes with you before you quickly break eye contact first, unable to endure the intensity in his strong gaze.
“Took you long enough to wake up.” You can discern the amusement lacing his tone. “You must be hungry.” He states, knowing his sweet baby angel would always search for food after a good nap.
You find yourself nodding your head in agreement as you subconsciously fiddle with the sleeves of Jake’s sweater. Your eyes look everywhere except him until they land on the dishes prepared on the kitchen island, and they look appealing enough for your stomach to growl out of hunger again, but this time, it’s louder than the previous.
You accidentally meet Jay’s eyes, and the smirk playing on his lips tells you that he heard your stomach’s growling hunger, causing you to feel embarrassed with your cheeks flushed. “I’ve already prepared these for you. Go on and eat up,” He instructs you gently, and you wordlessly advance forward to get to the kitchen island before sitting on the high stool.
You begin to eat in silence, nearly moaning out at the first taste and tearing up as the dish reminds you of your mother’s recipe back at home. You are so engrossed in filling up your stomach that you even forget Jay’s presence lingering behind you. Meanwhile, Jay is ruminating on how to break the palpable tension that derives from your cold detachment.
The sound of the stool being dragged pulls him out of his rumination, prompting him to look over at you as you place the empty plates in the sink and proceed to wash them while he feels a sense of satisfaction that you must’ve found his cooking delicious to the point where the plates are spotless.
But the persisting silence is killing him on the inside. Jay moves closer to you, and he can see the way your shoulders tense up. “Just leave those in the sink. I’ll wash them for you.” He insists, offering his help to you in an attempt to coax your cold shoulder towards him.
You shake your head in objection, giving him a brief, tight smile while your movements become prompt as you wash the plates. “It’s fine. This is the least I could do after you cooked for me.”
Seeing how unyieldingly determined you are, Jay concedes, watching you with attentive eyes that renders you uncomfortable. As soon as you finish, you hear him sighing softly before he breaks the icy silence. “Baby, we should talk─”
“I’m going for a swim later.” You cut him off, wanting to avoid having a serious talk about what happened. You look him dead in the eyes, and he is taken aback by the cold detachment in your pretty eyes. “I can do that, right?”
Though Jay feels upset, he can’t deny the brewing anger coursing through his veins at your attitude and how truly obstinate you are, but he is determined to break down those walls. “Of course.” He says with his jaw clenched while his tone lacks gentleness and affection.
You almost feel incapable of moving away from him due to the way his strong gaze grounds you while there is a newfound rising tension that makes your breath hitch in your throat. Though his demeanour seems collected, his dark eyes and ambience differ so much that even your instinct is urging you to elude him.
Right now, Jay looks and reminds you of Heeseung ─ demeanour eerily collected with ferocious storms raging behind those beautiful dark eyes. This time, you know that Jay’s patience has reached its limit.
“Thanks again for the food, anyway.” You manage to utter your gratitude to him in a ramble with your gaze lowered before forcing your feet to move along in haste while chills run down your whole being at the sensation of his piercing gaze through you, even after you are out of his sight.
You understood the emotions in his eyes conveyed, and you know that he will eventually get what he wants from you, one or another, even if you continue to defy him. As soon as you reach Jake’s room, you immediately lock the door, wanting to be extra cautious, considering that you are in a territory with two unpredictable predators roaming around.
You begin to strip down bare and change into your scarlet bikini that was gifted by Jennifer months ago. Despite the inner turmoil churning within you, you refuse to let it prevent you from heaving over to the pool in the hopes of releasing whatever pent-up emotions are in you. Plus, you need to have some alone time to mediate and regulate your emotions.
With the black bathrobe tightened around your waist, you proceed to venture your way to the pool while being vigilant to your surroundings, obviously looking out for Jay and Heeseung even though you’re okay-ish with the later, but much to your surprise, there is no sight of either of them ─ just eerie silence that causes goosebumps to arise on your skin.
As you finally arrive at the pool, you untie your bathrobe before removing and draping it over one of the sun loungers. You decide to test the temperature as you move closer and stop by the edge of the pool before slowly dipping your foot into the pool. Thankfully, it is adequate, and you waste no time submerging your legs into the water, followed by your upper body.
Since your skills at swimming are entirely rusty, you simply move and float around mindlessly, enjoying your needed meditation and watching the way the water ripples around you in motion as you attempt at swimming. You seek solace in your own company as well as entertaining yourself.
You don’t know how long since the moment you stepped into the pool, but long enough to barely even notice an approaching figure until the sound of his footsteps reach your ears, pulling you out of your reverie as you immediately compose yourself before turning around to face him.
You gulp hard at the sight. Fuck me.
Jay searches for your eyes as he gets closer to the pool, but you are too distracted, blatantly checking him out and nearly salivating, most especially at the display of his beautiful full arm tattoo. He is sporting a black compressed sleeveless shirt that makes his upper body muscles conspicuous in your eyes, but you know that he would look better without it.
As though Jay read your mind, he pulls up his shirt and removes it in one swift motion, his muscles flexing in the process that has your breath hitches in your throat. Your eyes feast on his fine glory appreciatively, desiring to trail your fingers through the slight ridges of his toned abs before you go lower and fuck; his V-line always does something to you. You can see that he is packing beneath the confines of his black shorts, and his bulge looks more noticeable now.
You look at his face, and it is obvious that he has been checking you out too, as you are seated on the pool ledge that allows your upper body to be seen. You know that the way his eyes linger on your bikini has to do with the colour being his favourite, drawing a faint smirk on your lips.
When his steely eyes finally meet yours, you falter instantly, as they are so piercing enough to burn into your memory. His eyes darken with carnal desire and menacing lust that conveys promises, but the unmistakable ire that stems from your recent temperament towards him is present, creating an intoxicating concoction that leaves you apprehensive and entirely aroused.
Still, you refuse to let him know that he turns you on more than anything, and not even his beautiful, smooth tan skin and muscles could sway you from your obstinate resolve. You turn away from him and rise from the pool ledge, walking deeper into the pool and not forgetting to add a sensual touch in the way you move your hips.
Jay’s eyes never leave from you, his jaw clenched and body taut with tension as he recognises that you’re intentionally tormenting him. It isn’t even helping that his cock beneath the confines is getting painfully harder than moments before this. His hands are itching to touch your skin and to dance on your alluring curves.
But then, the distance you continue to establish as you get further into the pool pulls the trigger off in his head, and with vehemence, he desires to deal with your wilful temperament the way he used to, letting go the last of his restraint and patience. Plus, the way you gaze at him briefly yet so coyly, he knows that you are asking for it.
Jay takes a step forward, now standing at the first ledge with the water level above his ankles. “You think you’re being cute with this attitude of yours.” He breaks the ice, finally confronting you without any sugar-coating approach. He only receives silence from you, his eyes watching you attentively as you remain indifferent without looking at him. He scoffs lightly, feeling both amused and infuriated. “You know that you can’t avoid me forever, babe.”
You ignore the tiny leap your heart makes just by the mere endearment before forcing yourself to look at him again with unwavering eyes, only to be alarmed by his movement as he takes slow, deliberate steps onto the pool ledges until the water level reaches below his knees.
The tension feels oppressive as it tethers on your whole being, but the fiery spark in you remains unabating, and you seek fortitude from it to withstand his unyielding assertion. “Oh yeah? Try me.” You retort, your voice lacing with unconcealed defiance that only fuels his desire to tame you.
“This is not how we settle things, alright?” Jay asserts sternly, his tone indicating no room for further opposition from you. He grapples with the tempestuous emotions within him, each vying to reign influence over the remainder of his restraint to have you in his possession as you are a few feet away from him, but he softens his voice, albeit firm enough to show you that he means business. “I don’t want us to keep fighting in silence like this. I need you to communicate with me, baby.”
You know that it is inevitable as you realise that you will always melt whenever he uses that tone with you, which he has never used with anyone else, but then the memory of Sienna’s gaze on him and how he didn’t seem phased by her reignites the fiery vehemence.
“Fine, you want to know what’s been bothering me?” You begin while behind the layer of hurt and anger in your eyes is rousing lust as you continue to look at him, wanting nothing more than for him to pound your pent-up emotions away. Damn it, if angry and horny was a person, it’d be you. “It’s the fact that you didn’t bother to introduce me as your girlfriend to your client! And you even allowed her to touch and flirt with you!”
Jay raises his eyebrow at you, feeling a tad surprised that you chose to go straight to the point rather indignantly. A promising danger casts a menacing shadow on his handsome face with his chiselled jaw clenched. “Yeah? Now you know how I feel when you danced with your friend and let him touch you last night.”
You hate how right he is, but you hate it even more that he poked your insecurity. “Don’t turn this around on me! This is about you!” You snap angrily while the pool around you ripples from your agitating movements.
“No, baby, this is about you and your attitude last night,” Jay counters with unwavering austerity, and his strong gaze is unmatched as it burns through you, as though coercing your obstinacy. “I don’t know what your deal was even before you decided to show attitude to us, but if what happened with Sienna today made you feel what I felt when you were with your friend last night, then so be it.”
Okay, nevermind. Forget being horny. Now it’s time to unleash your feminine rage.
“Oh, so this is what it is about? Revenge?!” You seethe out, your eyes burning with unmistakable fury, but Jay feels rather aroused to see you pissed off. “You are unbelievable! You had your client over just to get back at me and make me feel jealous? You’re so─”
You clamp your lips shut, unable to think of a suitable vocabulary to insult him as your brain goes short-circuited at the moment he takes another step where his arm can easily reach out to you, prompting you to straighten your back and take cautious steps back from him. Despite getting caught up in your own rage, you are no fool to heed his imposing figure with danger exuding from him, and yet it is the kind of danger that sends you a familiar sense of thrill.
“So what?” Jay taunts you with an eerie calmness in his demeanour, his eyes pinning yours seem to darken with intensity and challenge, and they feel scalding on your skin, making you all hot and bothered once again. “Go on, babe. I’m listening.”
“So petty and infuriating!” You give your best shot, but even you know that it is futile as he doesn’t seem particularly insulted. If anything, he is amused, and that peeves you.
“That makes us even, then.” Jay smirks at you, and you so badly want to wipe the smirk off his handsome face. All the while, you fail to realise another presence intruding the tension encompassing the pool from behind you as he has been watching it all unravel.
Honestly, this argument is getting nowhere, and the tension in the atmosphere feels just as palpable as the rousing lust in the way his eyes burn into yours. You open your mouth in an attempt to retort again just when he moves forward, but a familiar voice cuts through the stifling air, causing you to tense up.
“Jay, you’re supposed to clear the misunderstanding. Not making it worse.” Heeseung speaks up, albeit his tone lacks the conviction in the words he spoke, being disconcertingly nonchalant. You turn around and adjust your position just enough for you to be able to see both of them equally. “Since Jongseong brought that topic up, we really need to talk about your behaviour last night.”
A disbelieving scoff escapes your lips before you can stop it. “My behaviour? All I did was have fun with my friends! I didn’t realise how wrong it was to have fun.” You burst out in a torrent of exasperation, refusing to yield even when you know it yourself that you provoked them first. You dare yourself to challenge Heeseung, who raises his eyebrow at the defiance in your pretty eyes before he chuckles softly. “I’m not going to apologise when I have nothing to apologise for.”
“One of your friends is a man, Y/N, and he touched you in a way friends don’t,” Jay emphasises strongly, his voice lacing with warning. “You’re mad at me for not introducing you as my girlfriend to my client, but you acted as if you didn’t have boyfriends the way you were last night.”
Hypocrite, he’s telling you that, and he’s more than right. Maybe it’s fair that you got a taste of your own medicine, all because you got petty at them for avoiding having sex with you, but damn it, the heat coursing through your veins is unabating, yearning for them to ruin you the same way Jake and Sunghoon did in one night.
“Not denying, pretty girl?” Heeseung lets out derisive chuckles as he takes a seat on one of the sun loungers, looking entirely laid-back, but it completely unnerves you in thrilling anticipation as you stand still in the pool. “I was about to let this pass, but Hoon was right. Showing attitude, making us jealous─ you’ve really been a brat.”
You observe the way Heeseung briefly looks at Jay, almost as if sending him a telepathic message, because the next thing you know, your peripheral vision catches Jay’s movement as he advances towards you, prompting your full attention on him as you become alarmed.
“What are you doing?” You ask incredulously, flabbergasted at how unrelenting he is with the pool rippling in violent motions around him while the intensity in his dark eyes sends you waves of intoxication. Though a part of you is keenly aroused by this, you heed to your prey instinct as you slowly back away from him, but your movement only seems to spur him further.
“Come closer, baby,” Jay beckons you to him with faux gentleness, but you shake your head in protest as you continue your attempt at eluding him. He smirks at you; his charming face displays a haunting cruelty that mingles with lechery, and his darkened eyes swirl with carnality. “It’s about time we remind you who you belong to.”
The tension feels sweltering enough as it continues to mount rapidly, and your once-tenacious resolve dissipates as the distance between you and Jay gradually decreases in spite of your efforts to elude him. You know that you can’t even ask Heeseung for help, as the latter is equally pissed.
Though trepidation is present in the heat of your veins, you can’t lie that it feels sensationally thrilling at the same time, spurring you into increasing your pace as you turn around and move in haste towards the pool coping. It is sick and twisted at how you clearly enjoy feigning being the vulnerable prey just to feed into their ego at the effect they still have on you.
“Come on, babe. Where are you running to? I thought you wanted this,” Jay chuckles darkly from behind you, causing your pulse to go erratic as it drums in your ears. He finds you adorable ─ like a frantic bunny trying to swim away from getting devoured by the beast with agility and strength that are clearly unparalleled.
Just as you nearly reach the pool coping, a calloused hand seizes your arm from behind and pulls you to him roughly, eliciting a startled yelp from you as it sends you a jarring sensation while his strong arm locks around your waist and his hand cradles your jaw.
You can barely process the escalation in your head when his lips descend on yours, kissing you hard that intensifies a blazing inferno of desire within you. His kiss feels both possessive and ravenous, but it sends you an electrifying sensation through the heat of your body that has you arched into his touch, earning a low hum of approval from him.
With your body pressing into him, you can feel the heat emanating from his body and the way his abdominal muscles are flexing against your skin as the intensity of the kiss builds to greater heights of pleasure. His lips feel relentless and unforgiving against yours, almost bruising as you can feel him pouring his pent-up emotions into the kiss, but there is an unmistakable desperation in the way he moves with urgency.
Amidst the fervent exchange of your kisses, Jay guides you with his firm hands on your hips while the pool ripples violently around you with how urgent your movements are. Feeling the gradual distance of your body from him, he growls against your lips and pulls you by the waist closer until his bulge presses insistently against your lower abdomen, eliciting a soft gasp from you at the arousal evident in his thickness.
As soon as your lips part open, Jay seizes the opportunity as he thrusts his tongue into your mouth and explores every inch before meeting your tongue in a hot, sensual tango with saliva exchange wantonly. Even just making out with him is enough to make you wetter than you already were, as you can feel the slick of your arousal staining your folds.
Jay breaks the kiss, allowing you to gasp for air while his lips remain brushing against yours and his hands on your waist in a vice-like grip. “You have no idea how badly you drive me fucking insane with your distance and silence,” He rasps, his voice sounds grating in your ear as it sends you shivers. You gasp again as he presses himself into you, intentionally letting you feel his hard bulge. “Feel this, baby? You’re the only woman who makes me hard. Two fucking weeks without burying myself in your sweet pussy was madness.”
“It’s your fault, remember?” You attempt to sound petty as the recollection of him deliberately avoiding and dismissing the signs you gave resurfaces in your mind, but your voice comes out breathless and trembles with need. “I was so frustrated, and I needed you─”
“You gave us─ gave me an attitude because you needed cock, yeah?” Jay cuts you off in a low rumble while his tone drips with degradation that sends heat surging through your core. He squeezes your waist, his lips stretching into a cruel smirk. “You should’ve just said so instead of confusing us with your sudden attitude. You need cock? You’ll get it, alright, and I’ll be the one giving you what you need.”
His fingers go tangle in your damp hair before gripping it to seize control over you as he tilts your head up, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. The moment his lips trail a scorching path from your jaw to your neck, your body burns with overwhelming need. His hot breath hits your skin as he presses wet, open-mouthed kisses on your untainted skin until he reaches your sensitive spots, knowing how to get you incredibly wetter as he continues to assault you with his teeth and tongue.
Your pulse goes erratic with each kiss, bite, and lick while your ragged breathing mingles with soft moans that make him go carnal. You begin to grind your throbbing clothed-cunt on his hard bulge, needing some relief, but your movements elicit a rumble of warning from him, and yet you refuse to stop when your clit throbs deliciously at the contact of his bulge.
“Jay, please,” You plead in a whine that sounds pathetic in your ear, but any sound or utterance from you only fuels his carnal desire for you, prompting him to bite down your skin for one last time before he trails his lips up to your jaw and meets your lips.
But Jay doesn’t kiss you. Instead, his teeth sink into the plumpness of your lower lip, sucking it with his tongue licking across the seam. You look at him with hooded eyelids, your eyes meeting his dark ones that mirror your lust before he uses more force, and this time drawing out blood while you moan out in both pleasure and pain.
Jay immediately licks your lower bleeding lip before sucking it while you feel it throb. He releases your lower lip, only to capture your swollen lips into a searing kiss, but his hands begin to get busy as they leave your waist to pull down his shorts just enough for his cock to escape the tormenting confines.
“Take these off, baby,” Jay commands you huskily against your lips as his fingers go slightly hook around the band of your underwear. You comply, albeit your movements are flimsy, as you feel unnerved under the intensity of his dark, ravenous gaze. Just when your underwear is in your hand, Jay snatches it from you, only to toss it behind you as he smirks at his best friend. “Something to keep you a little less lonely while I fuck her first.”
Jay’s remark hits you with the realisation that Heeseung has been watching the shared yet intense intimacy wrapped between you and Jay by the sun lounger. You look over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Heeseung holding your scarlet underwear proudly with a smug smirk, causing the temperature in your cheeks to rise at the embarrassment.
“Eyes on me, baby,” Jay instructs you sternly, pulling your attention away from his best friend and watching him pumping his cock as he backs you up until your spine hits the hard edge of the concrete. His dark eyes flicker to yours briefly. “Wrap your legs around me.”
You do so instantly, your hand holding onto his shoulder for stability as your legs slowly wrap around his hips, but it seems Jay lacks patience as he decides to push his cock into your entrance, tearing a gasp from your throat at the relentless intrusion of his thickness as he continues to drive forward despite the resistance that has his jaw clenched.
“Damn, baby. Did Jake and Sunghoon not fuck you loose last night?” Jay groans deeply in your ear as he finally buries himself into you to the hilt, causing your back to arch off the wall as a whimper leaves your lips at his sheer girth that stretch your walls nearly to their limits.
“They did,” You whimper again, your voices trembling with need despite the stretch of your walls that feels borderline painful due to his size.
It boosts his ego upon seeing how close you are to going delirious just by his cock filling you up. He grabs you by the chin just as you begin to lose focus, forcing you to look at him in the eyes. For a fleeting moment, his eyes soften, but the unmistakable glint of depravity is present, giving you a whiplash of familiarity as the man before you is Devil’s Knight Jay.
“Don’t worry. I’ll fuck you the way you deserve after giving us the attitude.” A smirk touches his lips, and before you know it, he begins to hammer his cock into your cunt, tearing wanton moans from your throat as each thrust sends an electrifying jolt of pleasure through your body.
“Fuck, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed fucking you,” Jay growls out, his voice sounding deeper and huskier that amplifies your pleasure, getting wetly turned on even more, as evident in the instant slick leaking down your walls that sticks to his girth with each push.
“I’ve missed you too.” You manage to utter in between gasps and moans, albeit mindlessly, as nothing feels coherent in your head other than him and his cock. Your every nerve is smouldering as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation of his punishing strokes while the pool around you ripples and splashes from the impact.
“Yeah, baby? Missed me fucking you like this?” Jay rasps against your skin as he gets busy littering his kiss on your arched neck while his firm hands on your underthighs control your every movement as he drives you forward into his cock, allowing you to feel him deeper and more insistently than each previous stroke. “I’ll fuck you somemore.”
It is as though something possessed him as he begins to fuck you with intense fervour, borderline animalistic, while his hands on your thighs feel bruising. His moans and guttural sounds as they mingle with yours go straight into your surging heat, but the pure ecstasy on his face is what propels you to fuck yourself onto his cock as you snap your hips against his.
“Just like that. Good fucking girl,” Jay growls in approval before grabbing the back of your head and pulling you in for him to slam his lips into your parted lips, swallowing every sound emitting from the back of your throat greedily and kissing you sloppily with teeth and tongues clashing. He sighs pleasurably against your lips. “If only you had been good for us last night.”
Just when you can nearly reach the pinnacle of ecstasy, Jay slows down the pace deliberately before pulling out his erected cock from you while your cunt clenches at nothing. You whimper in disappointment at the loss of his cock, only to be taken aback when he manoeuvres you as you now find yourself facing Heeseung.
Your eyes are immediately transfixed at the sight of Heeseung pumping his cock leisurely with his abdominal muscles on display while his face betrays no emotion, but when you look him in the eyes, carnal lust swims in them while a wicked smirk plays at the corner of his lips. You turn your head away, unable to withstand the intensity just from his penetrating gaze alone, but your avoidance earns a disapproving tut from the man behind you.
The next thing you know, Jay buries his cock into your cunt with one brutal thrust, eliciting a loud moan from your lips at the sudden intrusion that is a heady mix of agony and ecstasy. Your hands immediately hold onto the square edge of the pool for stability as he thrusts into you relentlessly with his muscular hips snapping against your ass.
Your head lolls forward, feeling your body being overpowered by the overwhelming dominance he asserts, but his fingers go tangled in your hair to seize control as he pulls your head to the back, forcing your spine to arch and exposing your neck to Heeseung’s eyes until you feel his hot breath fanning the shell of your earlobe.
“You’re gonna keep your eyes on Heeseung while I fuck you, understood?” Jay snarls in your ear, his gravelly voice resonates deep in your core, and his tone indicates he wants to hear your compliance, but you are too delirious at the sensation of his cock dragging along your walls so distinctly with each thrust as you roll your eyes to the back in pleasure.
Heeseung, who has been watching you, desires nothing more than to be the one who makes you roll your eyes in pure ecstasy, but he can’t deny that he feels oddly turned on than ever as he watches his best friend fucking you until you are evidently reduced to nothing but dumb on the latter’s cock, causing him to speed up in pumping his cock with his jaw clenched and his dark eyes drinking in your mesmerising nuance while his abdominal muscles occasionally reflexing with each pump.
Upon receiving moans and gasps from you, Jay growls lowly in displeasure before abandoning your hip and curling his fingers around your neck while his fingers tug at your strands again. “I said, understood?” His authoritarian tone sends shivers through your body while your walls quiver in submission, driving him to the brink of madness.
“Yes sir,” You manage to utter in an accidental, sensual slur that spurs him into fucking you with savage intensity, his hand leaving your neck to grip your waist while the other remains pulling your hair to the back just enough for your eyes to train on Heeseung.
You try to be good, to please both men in your vicinity, but the combination of Jay’s vicious thrusts as he relentlessly hits you from behind and Heeseung’s cock that has you foaming in the mouth feels all-consuming, desiring nothing more than for them to stuff you full at the same time. Even the stinging pain from your scalp in the way Jay tugs at your strands feels just as pleasurable as the way your sopping cunt is being battered by his thick cock.
Jay clenches his jaw as your quivering walls vacuum his cock, hurtling him at the edge of ecstasy, but he wants you to come undone first. His hand travels from your waist down to your mount before searching for your clit and rubbing it in circles with the padding of his fingers.
“Jay!” You release another moan that is a higher pitch as soon as Jay assaults your bundle of nerves that is building to an intensity while your heart goes pounding against your chest. A sob leaves your lips as you grip the square edge of the pool, your whole body trembling with delirious pleasure. “F-Fuck! It’s too much─”
“Nothing is too much. You’re going to take it like a good doll, baby.” Jay’s voice is grating in your ear while his hot breath tickles your skin. There is not an ounce of clemency in him, as he claims you with relentless ferocity while working in tandem with his fingers that are rubbing your clit.
“This is what you wanted, yeah? For me to fuck you and set your attitude straight.” He grunts with each snap of his hips against your ass while the impact causes your tits to spill out from your bikini. “Purposely being a brat all because you need cock to satisfy you.”
You moan weakly, unable to withstand the overwhelming pleasure from both his degradation and his cock as you feel your own body on the precipice of combusting. “J-Jay, I’m gonna cum─” Your lips part open with a silent moan with your eyes rolled to the back as he delivers a punishing thrust that is enough to send you tumbling over the edge of ecstasy, violently coming undone on his cock.
But Jay continues to thrust into your cunt even as your essence sticks to his entire girth while overstimulating you with his fingers rubbing your clit unforgivingly, causing you to writhe and whimper in his inescapable hold.
“I’m not fucking done with you, baby girl.” Jay grits his teeth, releasing your hair only to wrap his arm around your torso before pulling you to him until your back hits his chest. With his arm locked around your torso, he skilfully uses his hand to grip your jaw and forces you to look at Heeseung again. “Keep your eyes on him when you cum again.”
And you do, trying your best to hold onto the last threads of whatever sanity left in you, but Heeseung’s dark eyes feel invasive as they penetrate into you, as though he is fucking you just by his eyes alone.
“Let Heeseung know how good I’m fucking you,” Jay whispers darkly in your ear, enjoying the way your quivering walls continue to welcome him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you recognise the possessive gleam in Heeseung’s eyes. “Tell Heeseung that you’re my good doll who always needs cock to keep her satisfied.”
“H-Heeseung,” You moan out his name, a sensual yet melodious tune in his ears as the latter pumps his cock furiously. “Jay fucks me so good─” You gasp as Jay squeezes your tit with his hand underneath your bikini, tweaking and rolling your perky nipple between his fingers. “Oh god─”
Breaking free from the last of his restraint, Heeseung abandons the sun lounger and makes his way towards the pool, his dark eyes penetrating into yours that have your heart pounding harder against your chest upon recognising the stark madness and carnal desire in his eyes.
Adrenaline rushes through you as Heeseung has now entered the pool, walking towards you with a mask of eerie calmness while Jay continues to thrust into you, and you can feel his impending climax in the way his cock twitches in you.
Jay lets out a guttural moan as waves of ecstasy wash over him, his cock filling your womb with your walls greedily sucking more and more of his hot sticky cum, and the timing is impeccable when Heeseung finally reaches you, wasting no time in grabbing you by the nape and slamming his lips into yours.
You whimper at the sensitivity as Jay continues to pump his cock into your sopping cunt even after he reaches the peak of his orgasm, but Heeseung greedily swallows every sound you utter, kissing you hard yet sloppily with teeth and tongues clashing.
Seeing as you are occupied with Heeseung, Jay is understanding enough to let his best friend have his fun as he slowly pulls out his cock from you and places a sensual kiss on your shoulder, but his fingers remain rubbing in strong, deliberate circles on your clit. You moan languidly into the kiss, feeling the inevitable before you finally come undone from his fingering assault on your clit.
“Jay fucks you good, yeah? Are you satisfied now, sweetheart?” Heeseung growls against your lips, sending shivers down your body that fall weak into him as your legs give up on you, but he holds you steadily with his hands on your waist. He smirks softly, sensing the exertion in your body. “Pretty girl, I haven’t even gotten my turn with you yet, and you’re already fucked out?”
“W-Wait, Heeseung─” You yelp out in surprise just as Heeseung lifts you up by the waist, prompting your legs to wrap around his hips on instinct and your arms latching around his neck. “Hee, I can’t. Sensitive, still.” You whimper falling deaf to his ears as he presses his hard length into your throbbing cunt before feeling your back hitting Jay’s chest, now being sandwiched between the two devils who are nowhere done with you.
“You don’t seem to understand that we’re simply giving you what you desperately needed, my pretty angel.” Heeseung smirks cruelly at you, but you feel turned on more than you should feel humiliated. “You wanted us to fuck you? We’ll fuck you, alright, and you’re going to take it until we’re done.”
You open your mouth to retort despite having been drained of energy, but the abrupt breach of his cock into your cunt tears a moan from your throat before he begins to fuck you with an insatiable hunger, barely giving you the time to process his cock stretching your walls and hitting your spongey spot instantly.
“Good fucking girl. Taking my cock so good. Your pussy was made for us, for me,” Heeseung growls out, his deep voice rumbling with thick desire that sends heat surging through your core, causing your cunt to clench around him. A muscle pulses in his jaw as he becomes relentless, driving his cock deeper and revelling in the sounds you make while your walls clench around him like crazy. “Look at you, love. Your sweet cunt is still hungry for cock. My pretty girl needs more than one or else she’ll show attitude, yeah?”
“N-No!” You deny, but it only fuels his ire and possessiveness as he recalls Eunwoo’s touch on you last night, propelling him to fuck you with brutal intensity that has you screaming and moaning out at the delirious sensation. The impact sends you pinning to Jay’s chest while he instinctively supports his best friend by holding you in place with his hands on your waist.
Heeseung briefly meets Jay’s eyes in a silent exchange of understanding, their smirks mirroring each other’s before the latter brings his two fingers to your parted lips and shoves them into your mouth without any thought of gentleness, causing you to gag on his fingers as he lodges them deep.
“No? Still denying after you purposely made us jealous by dancing with your friend?” Heeseung growls, resonating deep to your core that has your walls quivering in submission once more. “Tell me, would he fuck you better than we do?”
Heeseung awaits your answer with demanding eyes, but with Jay’s fingers lodged in your mouth as he presses them down on your tongue, you can only gag and choke out, causing tears to prickle in your eyes. Your pulse goes erratic at the cruel, predatory gleam in Heeseung’s eyes as well as Jay’s dark chuckles in your ear.
“Can’t answer him, baby girl?” Jay sneers in your ear, earning a head shake from you but a faux disappointed sigh from him before he presses down his fingers on your tongue once more while drools dripping from the corner of your lips. “Come on, angel. We want to hear you say it.”
You feel both frustrated and edged that Jay is deliberately sliding his two fingers down until they hit your tonsils, causing you to gag even more as you attempt to enunciate your words. Your body shakes violently from the impact when Heeseung delivers a hard, punishing thrust that hits you in the cervix precisely, your eyes rolling to the back with your head lolling and hitting Jay’s shoulder.
Both men chuckle at how evidently you are fucked out as even your arms begin to feel loose around Heeseung’s shoulders. Jay collects enough saliva from your drooling cavern before pulling his fingers from your mouth, giving you some air to breathe as you regain focus, only to be taken aback when Jay shoves his fingers into Heeseung’s mouth.
Your breath hitches in your throat, utterly hypnotised with the way Heeseung’s dark eyes pin yours as he continues to suck the residue of your saliva from Jay’s fingers rather sensually, completely unbothered that he is making intimate contact with his best friend, and that turns you on more than anything.
You move your hips in tandem with him while his cock is relentlessly thrusting and lodging deep in your cunt, his dark gaze focusing on you in spite of his mouth being occupied with Jay’s fingers. With Jay’s lips now attached to your shoulder, kissing and licking your skin, and Heeseung’s cock hitting the right places, your pleasure has amplified with your impending orgasm awaiting a trigger.
Jay finally withdraws his fingers from Heeseung’s mouth with a tangible string of saliva connected from his lips, but the latter pays no mind to that as he quickly captures your lips in a searing kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth for you to taste yourself with the saliva he collected on his tongue.
The exchange is filthy and lewd, your tongues dancing wetly with each other and salivas dripping down your chin, but you feel drunk in the heat of the moment, willingly swallowing and taking whatever he gives. You whine as Heeseung pulls his lips away from your swollen ones, only to be silenced by Jay’s lips with his hand seizing your jaw as you find your head being turned sideways.
Heeseung smirks softly as he watches the lewd exchange of your kisses with the wet sound of lips smacking filling the air, all the while, he doesn’t let up his momentum, and instead, he feels the intoxicating pull of pleasure that tempts him to surrender, but he wants to make it last, not when you haven’t come undone on his cock yet.
“You haven’t said it yet, sweet angel,” Jay murmurs against your wet lips, slowly pulling away from the breathtaking kiss and distracting you with the sudden tenderness, but you immediately recognise the deception in his dark eyes. You gasp softly at the intrusion of a bullous tip trying to slide into your battered cunt that is being fucked by Heeseung. “We're waiting, baby. Tell us if your friend would fuck you any better than us.”
“N-No, he wouldn’t be able to fuck me better than you.” You splutter your words, your brain going into overdrive as Jay manages to slide in his bullous tip in your occupied cunt before miraculously burying himself next to Heeseung’s moving cock. Your hand grips on Heeseung’s bicep, giving his flexing muscle a squeeze at the stretch of both cocks in your pulsating cunt. “Jay, please, it’s too much─”
“Why wouldn’t he be able to fuck you, pretty girl?” Heeseung cuts you off with a low rumble, catching your dazed eyes with his perfectly fine ones. You open your mouth to speak, but only moans tumble past your lips as Jay fucks you with an unbridled force, working in tandem with Heeseung. “We won’t let you cum until you answer my question, angel.”
“You know the answer, baby girl,” Jay rasps in your ear, his fingers seeking your clit once more and rubbing it while the assault intensifies your building pleasure that coils tighter in your tummy. “You don’t want us to stop fucking you, do you?”
You shake your head frantically, displaying your pathetic desperation for both of their cocks to consume you. “B-Because he’s not any of you.” You continue while racking through your brain to grasp for any coherency left. You become distracted when Heeseung attaches his lips to the hollow of your throat, kissing and biting your skin. “Fuck─ and he would never be able to fuck me because I’m yours.” You manage to utter through breathy moans as Jay increases the pace on your clit.
“That’s right. You’re ours and ours alone,” Heeseung snarls against your throat, causing your breath to hitch at the haunting menace in his husky voice. “You belong to us, and by the time we’re done with you, you’d do well to remember that.”
You nod your head numbly, focusing on your pleasure that reaches to a crescendo, and you can feel their impending orgasms in the way their cocks throb against your walls as well as their guttural moans and grunts in your ears. Your head feels dizzy at the stimulation of Jay’s hand fondling your tits while the other is on your clit and with Heeseung’s lips relentlessly assaulting your neck with kisses.
The sensation overwhelms you, and before you know it, you tumble over the edge of ecstasy, as at the same time they do, their tips hitting the spot triggers an intense orgasm that has your body convulsing between their bodies and feeling a familiar fluid release from your cunt.
Your whimper mingles with their moans as they deliver a few more thrusts despite your overstimulated cunt spasming around their cocks before tidal waves of ecstasy hit them as they shoot their hot cum into you, filing to the brim that serves as a testament of their claim over you.
As the last echoes of ecstasy and intensity wanes into the air, you allow your spent body to fall limp in between them with only the sound of laboured breathing amidst the silence. You lean your head in the nook of Heeseung’s neck, feeling sated, while the blissful aftermath envelopes you in a cocoon of contentment. Your eyes capture the beautiful scenery of the skies that are painted in hues of blues and pinks as the sun is making its final descent.
Just when you are about to bask in the afterglow of your intense yet passionate encounter, the realisation dawns on you, followed by the strings of guilt tugging at your heart. “I’m sorry for what happened last night and today,” You break the ice as you slowly lift your head to look at them, only to feel meek under their dark gaze on you. You lower your gaze, unable to handle their imposing intimidation. “I promise I won’t make you jealous again, but─”
You bite down your lips, feeling the remnants of resentment and bitterness at their avoidance of having sex with you over the course of two weeks. It seems like they want to hear you out, as they can see how evidently upset you still are.
“But I was so frustrated that you were obviously avoiding me and ignoring the signs I gave you, and I thought you didn’t desire me like you did before because, in some ways, I also assumed that you got annoyed at me for being pathetically needy.” You divulge your concern and vulnerability to them, even if a part of you feels sceptical that they would even hear you. You sigh, still unable to look at their faces. “It’s whatever. Sunghoon and Jake already told me the reason why.”
The silence from them only exasperates you, forcing you to dart your narrowed eyes at them with a huff leaving your lips as you notice amusement dancing in their eyes. “Well? Say something!” You whine, accidentally moving your hips that have you gasping as you realise that they are still buried in you while low groans emit from them.
Heeseung catches your gaze instantly, his lips stretching into a lazy yet attractive smirk while there is a teasing glint in his eye. “I had no idea our sweet angel could be this needy for sex.” His remark is accompanied by Jay’s chuckles.
Your cheeks flare in embarrassment, knowing that Jay has that teasing yet charming smirk on his lips as well. Though the smirk remains on his lips, Heeseung’s eyes soften as they roam around your features before he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead.
“Don’t be embarrassed, love. In fact, we’re glad that you’re just as needy as us,” Heeseung tells you, coughing lightly in a not-so-discreet embarrassment at the end that you break into giggles. “You have no idea how we struggled to control ourselves from being all over you.”
“Like Hoon said, we didn’t want to overwhelm you when being in a relationship with the four of us at once is already overwhelming enough,” Jay adds as he rubs your waist, offering you more comfort. “We should’ve told you about it in the first place. We’re sorry, baby.”
“It’s fine. It was silly of me to be all petty and make you jealous last night,” You insist, turning your head to face Jay before giving him a peck on the lips while your fingers gently scrub his chiselled jaw. “No man could ever come close to any of you.”
“We know,” Heeseung says smugly, but his tone carries an undercurrent of danger as he continues. “Even if there was a man other than us, he wouldn’t live to see another day. Consider your friend lucky that he’s Wooseok’s lifelong buddy.”
You kind of expected this coming from Heeseung, considering how possessive he could get to the point where it overwhelmed you, but instead of feeling disturbed, you feel oddly content with a smile touching your lips, knowing that he and the others evidently desire and love you, maybe more than you think.
Jay feels your body shivering beneath his touch, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as his protective boyfriend mode kicks in. “I’ll get the bathrobe for you, okay?” His deep voice sounds comfortingly mellow as he kisses your shoulder affectionately before slowly pulling his softened cock from your cunt.
Jay hisses lightly while you whimper at the sensitivity, prompting him to apologise to you with another kiss on your shoulder before he parted from you, leaving you in Heeseung’s possession. Heeseung attempts to pull out, but you lock your legs around him, causing him to raise his eyebrow inquisitively at you.
“Stay inside me just for a while, please.” You plead softly, your eyes are absent of lust, and instead, a vulnerable display of your yearning for a different yet tender intimacy is present, causing his eyes to soften more than they already were. “I want you to hold me close to you too.”
“Of course, my beloved,” Heeseung murmurs, dipping his head down to press his lips into yours in a shared tender kiss that has you melt for him all over while his arms wrap around your body securely. The two of you remain still, basking in each other's warmth intimately with your head resting on his shoulder. Feeling the constant shivers on your body, he proceeds to carry you over to the pool ledge, where Jay, who has worn back his shorts, is waiting for you with your bathrobe in his hand.
Eventually, you know that Heeseung will have to release you, but just as you decide to stand on your own, your knees buckle underneath you before your legs give up from the sheer ache all over. Heeseung is quick enough to catch you before you can even fall, while Jay wastes no time in draping the bathrobe over your body.
“Let’s go, angel baby,” Jay mutters to you, carrying you in a bridal style with one swoop while your arms go hooked around his neck. As he makes his way back to the penthouse, you sink into the comfort of his warmth that cocoons you with your head resting on his shoulder. “We’ll shower together, and after that, I’m cooking dinner for us.”
You only nod your head in response as your eyes slowly flutter close, unable to withstand the weight of sheer exhaustion dawning on your whole being that you don’t even realise two new presences, who have returned from work, entering the living room as well.
“What happened? What did you do to my princess?” Sunghoon being openly affectionate with you in front of the guys ─ more than how he used to be back then ─ is something you still need to get accustomed to. You can feel his piercing gaze on your form, but you feel too enervated to even lift your eyelids.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Jay simply smirks at Sunghoon, whose eyes narrow in a protective gleam yet tinge with softness as he looks at your serene countenance. “Relax. She’s fine. She just needs more rest.”
“You guys really wrecked her,” Jake’s remark causes your cheeks to flush warmly, and you want nothing more than to bury yourself six feet under as they continue to converse about you. “I thought I told you to go easy on her.”
“It's not our fault that we couldn’t resist. How could we when our girl wanted to play being the bunny running from her prey in the pool?” Jay shrugs his shoulders, unfazed by Jake’s disapproving eyes as well as Sunghoons’s protective ones, causing him to roll his eyes at them being all fussy. He looks down at you with knowingness, as he is able to sense that you are not entirely asleep. “Isn’t that right, baby? You enjoyed it all, yeah?”
In return, you bury your face into his toned chest, groaning lightly. “Can we please just get to the shower? A warm shower, at that. I’m still feeling cold.” You mumble to him, but the other two catch onto your words rather quickly.
“She meant shower with me, not the two of you,” Jay puts their hope to an end upon seeing the look on their faces. He merely smirks again at their scowling faces before continuing your journey to his room.
“Jay?” You utter his name softly as soon as you reach the second floor. He hums in response, briefly looking down at you with an eyebrow raised. You surprise him with a peck on his cheek. “I love you.”
Jay's eyes soften as he leans forward, kissing you squarely yet sweetly on the lips. Your heart flutters with the swelling affection as his lips gently move against yours before murmuring. “I love you more, my angel baby.”
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