..... lowkey confused abt alme fics not being posted
As in
I was convinced i had posted certain fics, i remember the process of choosing pics for ir and all but. They are not posted? Not even sitting in my drafts?
a/n: @blizzardfluffykpop i know it's a little early and this isn't even what i had in mind for your birthday fic, but maybe it's a nice "night before your birthday"-fic (but ofc you can read this whenever). i'll congratulate tomorrow, but you can have this a little early 🙂↕️ hab dich lieb 🩷
"I can't sleep," you whisper into the darkness of the room.
You hear Changmin shuffling beside you, "Are you nervous?"
"No. I don't know. Maybe."
You feel his hand inching closer beneath the blankets until it finds yours. He intertwines your fingers. "What is there to be nervous about?"
You know it's just a meaningless number. And yet, somehow, this year it feels heavier. You shrug, "Nothing. Everything."
Changmin squeezes your hand, "I'll be there with you. You won't be alone."
"I know," but somehow it still feels a little lonesome. Birthdays have always been a little difficult for you, and even if Changmin has made them a lot easier, they still aren’t easy. Maybe that's okay, though. Small progress is still progress.
"Do you think it will be different?" You're not sure what you mean exactly, everything, maybe. It's the weird underlying fear that the sky won't be the same in the morning, that you'll wake up to find the world has changed, suddenly, like the digits of your age.
"No," Changmin replies easily, "it will be just the same." He nuzzles closer, nose brushing against your shoulder. His breath feels warm on your skin. The kiss he leaves there, too.
When you wake up, the sun is tickling your nose through the gaps of the curtains. You're up first, the way you usually are. Changmin is still sleeping beside you, his arm around your waist to hold you close. He looks cute and peaceful on his sleep, like he usually does, and he lets out an all too familiar noise of complaint when you try to get up. His arm tightens around you and pulls you back into the mattress, close to his chest.
"Cuddle with me a little longer, birthday kid," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.
"I just wanna see the sky," you say, prying his arm off and managing to get up for real this time. When you open the curtains further the morning sun is trickling in and dying the room in a warm light. There are a few clouds in the sky, and some birds at the horizon, and mayne it feels a little new the way mornings do, but it's also familiar and comforting. It's still the same sky.
"Just like you said," you mumble but it's too quiet for Changmin to catch it.
"Now come back to bed, I need to give you birthday cuddles," he complains, opening his arms for you. "And then I'll make breakfast for us. And then you'll get more birthday cuddles."
A smile spreads on your lips and you let yourself fall back into bed and into his arms. He pulls you close enough for you to feel his breath on your neck.
"I love you," he whispers before he leaves a little peck on your skin, "Happy Birthday."
You close your eyes and let his warmth seep into your very bones. "I love you, too," you whisper back.
wc: 0.6k; established relationship, fluff, talks about marriage, reader is being carried, and also drunk and a bit of a brat, kai is very in love; SFW
a/n: recently watched to do ep.166 with @blizzardfluffykpop and my key take aways were a) kai seems p good at handling bratty behaviour and b) kai can and would carry you (...maybe not as effortlessly as depicted here but lemme indulge myself)
masterlist
“This is practice,” you explained, a big drunk smile painted all over your face as Kai maneuvered both of you into your shared flat. It’d been quite a struggle to unlock the front door without dropping you, but you’d refused to get down, and it wasn’t like Kai was going to stop indulging you now after he’d already carried you up the stairs to your 2nd floor apartment. He was a weak man when it came to you, and he didn’t even mind it.
He kicked the door shut behind the two of you and tiptoed out of his shoes. “Practice for what?”
“Our wedding night,” you whispered, as if it was something scandalous and secret, though your drunk self didn’t quite manage to keep your voice down, “You’ll have to carry me over the threshold then, too. But with my dress and all, I’ll be sooo heavy. You better work out.”
“I think I can handle it,” he hoisted you up a little higher to prove his point as he carried you down the hallway, “And who said I was going to marry you?”
Immediately, a pout appeared on your lips and your eyebrows pulled into a frown, “Were you going to marry someone else? Who?”
He shrugged, because he couldn’t help himself from wanting to tease you a bit when you were drunk and moody like this. “Who knows?”
The frown deepened even further, “Do you really think anyone else would marry a nerd like you?”
“You think no one would?”
“You suck,” You averted your gaze, your response coming out in a mumble, “Of course a lot of people would. But you should indulge me at times like this.”
“Sorry love,” he paused to leave a small peck on your forehead, “Of course there’s no one else I would marry but you.”
“Thank you,” you replied, emphasizing each syllable.
Kai just chuckled, turning to nudge open the door to the bedroom with his shoulder, cozy bed with your (mostly his) zillion plushies ready to swallow you up. He set you down at the foot of the bed, and you just flopped over to the side like a sack of potatoes while he crouched down to take off your shoes.
“You will though, right?” You mumbled into the mattress. Your voice sounded genuine this time, “Marry me?”
“Are you proposing right now?”
“No. I don’t want it like that.”
“You want me to propose?”
You turned your head from where it’s buried in the sheets to look at him. Your hair fell into your face messily, but he could still make out your eyes beneath. “Yeah.”
“Now?”
“No. Not now… Wait a bit, so that I can feel surprised by it.”
Kai wouldn’t be able to keep the fond smile off his face if he tried. “Alright. I’ll wait a bit.”
"But not too long."
“Someone’s impatient,” He shook his head with a chuckle, “We’ll have the rest of our lives.”
“Well, we both know that you’re the patient one between the two of us. And besides,” a cheeky smile spread on your lips, and Kai wanted to kiss it right off, “I just can’t wait for the rest of our lives to begin. What’s so wrong about that?”
“You’re right,” he said, keeping his eyes from darting to the bottom drawer of his nightstand and instead leaning over to finally peck your lips, “I can’t wait either.”
masterlist ♡ pls consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you enjoyed this fic ♡
soobin has vowed to protect you and he will hold onto that promise, even if you yourself have already given up
wc: 0.8k; tags: historical/royal au, angst (with a hopeful ending); warnings: mentions of blood, fire, death (no mcd), reader being carried
masterlist | prequel
Soobin halts before your chambers, taking a brief moment to catch his breath and collect himself even in this moment of great urgency. Maybe it's the need to appear proper in front of you, or maybe he's just scared of what he'll find behind these doors. When he finally does step in, the room lies before him dark and silent, lit up only by the fires burning outside. You’re standing close to the window, hair down in your fancy dress, watching it all unfold with a calmness that strikes Soobin as odd. It’s like the haste and noise that he had to fight through to find you here, all the blood and smoke and screaming, it suddenly dissipates at the sight of you. It’s like he’s reached the eye of the storm, your chambers a haven of tranquility as they lay before him undisturbed.
"Soobin," You turn around slowly, a smile on your lips that reads sadness and not the slightest sliver of hope, "I'm glad it's you."
Soobin is glad that it's him who has found you, too, but he can't really feel relieved. There is something off with the way you look at him, the way you move so slowly without any haste, even though there is no time to spare if you want to live.
....You want to live, right? You haven't given up yet, have you?
You step closer to him until there's barely any space between you, bare feet against the cold marble floor, and Soobin has to resist the urge to lift you up, to carry you so your noble feet don't have to touch the ground.
You reach up, and he almost flinches when your fingers graze his skin, knowing all too well he isn't worth your touch, and even less now when he's dirty with sweat and blood and ashes. You show no signs of hesitation though as you gently push a few strands of hair out of his forehead. You don't ask him to bow either, and he doesn’t even though he knows he should, but he can't bear to look away from you and cast his gaze to the floor.
"Soobin," you say again, your palm briefly cupping his cheek before it wanders down his arm and comes to rest on his hand, that is still holding his sword. "You will make it quick, won't you?" You let out a little sigh, "I know it's not a mercy my bloodline deserves, but maybe, if there’s at least a trace of affection left from the countless hours spent together, you could grant me this favor?"
Soobin swallows hard, his brain unwilling to catch up with what the uneasy feeling in his stomach has already understood. "What are you saying, your highness?"
"I'm no highness anymore, not after tonight."
"Still—" But you don't let him speak, your fingers tightening their grip on him. "I'd much rather die by your hand, than anyone else's. I know you'd lay me to rest much gentler than most."
"No," he hears the urgency in his own voice and feels the way tears are welling up in his eyes, and while he knows this display of distress is inadequate, he doesn't think this is the moment to hold back just for the sake of proper conduct. His free hand grabs yours, pulls it away from his sword, and holds it close to his chest, "If you die tonight, then so will I."
Your words tremble as you reply, "The crown has already fallen, Soobin. You mustn't go down with it just to fulfil your duty."
He swallows thickly, "I have no duty towards the crown, nor do I find myself intrigued to fight with the rebellion. This sword's sole purpose is to protect you, for I've sworn my loyalty to you and you alone, your highness. If you decide it's the last night, I will gladly go with you."
A chuckle slips past your lips, but it isn't humorous, just sad. "How foolish. Like a dog who follows the very master who put a leash around his neck."
"If my loyalty is truly a leash, it has never felt as such. You never yanked on it, it has not once cut into my skin."
"How foolish," you say once more, but you don't mock him again.
There's a loud noise outside, he thinks maybe the archway has collapsed under the raging fire of the rebellion.
"What do you decide, your highness?"
"What decision is there to make? I can forsake my life but not yours, never yours."
A smile spreads on his lips as his grip around your hand tightens. "Then you'll just have to live, your highness."
You give him a small nod, "My life is in your hands."
He sheathes his sword and finally does what he wanted to do the second he saw your bare feet; he lifts you off the floor, ready to carry you as far as needed to get you to safety. "I'll make sure to treasure it."
masterlist | prequel | pls consider reblogging/commenting if you liked this ♡
a/n: snippet from a universe i'd come up with a while ago for a collab that i ended up dropping out of :x there is a l o t for this au sitting in my draft folder but i felt this works as a stand alone as well so i thought i might as well put it out there~
masterlist
“I still can’t believe it,” a girl says to her friend as they wait for the train just a few steps away from you and Changmin. She looks put together, her hair in pretty waves and her lips shimmering with lip gloss, “it was all just a scheme.”
“Right?” Her friend shakes her head and it makes her dangly earrings clink together. It’s the kind of earrings you would have liked to wear too, if things had been different. Though, you suppose you could buy a pair now.
The second girl laughs before she goes on, “To think I even had posters of Aura all over my walls, I must have been crazy.”
You’d never asked anyone to put up your posters or collect your merch. But you’d never hated it either, you’d enjoyed the spotlight, you’d felt like you deserved it, that it came with being a hero.
“Don’t listen,” Changmin whispers next to you, “don’t pay attention,” but the fact he’d say that is proof enough that he himself can’t ignore it either. He’s hurting just as much.
The train rolls into the station and stops with a hiss. Changmin grabs your hand and pulls you away from the two girls gossiping next to you to a door a little further down the platform. You let him pull you along, feeling drained and tired and a little dead inside. It’s an odd feeling, because it’s new. As a hero you never once experienced anything like it. As a hero, you’d seen all kinds of horrors, endured all kinds of pains, but you’d been important. It’d been worth it, because it was all for a greater good, for the people. But ever since it’d all come crumbling down, you’d crumbled with it. When they abolished the building of the Heroes’ Association, they’d abolished your life along with it. The very people you’d believed to be protecting had turned their backs on you and you couldn’t even blame them. It had all been a fraud after all. You’d been a fraud.
“We should buy ice cream later” Changmin says as he pushes you towards a seat and sits down next to you. He nods towards the little screen on the train ceiling, showing a weather map, “it’s going to be sunny tomorrow.”
“Sure,” you reply, following his gaze, without really paying attention. Except the screen switches over to the news at that moment, a lurid headline on top: FALLEN MASKS—THE TRUTH BEHIND THE SO-CALLED HEROES. And then next to it a picture of Q, blood dripping from his forehead and drenching his mask in red, but the smile on his lips is bright. You remember the photo well, it’s from a few years ago. It’d been all over the news at the time, to celebrate the hero who’d persisted despite everything, to celebrate the hero who could still smile through pain and suffering for the people around him. Now it looks different though. They adjusted the lights and colors to make it look almost sinister, as if Q himself was the one behind everything that had gone wrong. As if he’d personally come up with the scheme that’d fooled everyone, as if he hadn’t been fooled himself.
You feel Changmin tense up next to you and you intertwine your hand with his to give it a little squeeze. He averts his gaze from the screen to turn to you, lips pulled into a smile, “We should watch a movie tonight. Scream would be fun. Or maybe Chucky? It doesn’t even have to be horror. We could also watch a romcom. Or that documentary about sea turtles. But if you did want to watch a horror movie I would be the last to complain.” Lighthearted rambling to divert your attention as well as his own. He’s trying so hard to be okay for you. He’s still the same as in the original picture, smiling through it all. Because he’s kind like that. There’s nothing sinister about him, no matter how the world might choose to see him.
You lean your head against his shoulder, “Chucky is fine,” you agree, “it’s been a while since we’ve seen it.” Maybe the last time had still been before. In his dimly lit dorm room, huddled together on his tiny bed while his roommate was out on a mission. You try not to ask yourself what happened to him, or anyone from that life. You don’t know and you don’t know how to find out, and you’re scared of what you’d find.
“Or maybe,” he reconsiders and his voice seems to reflect the same heaviness blooming in your heart, “let’s watch something new, something we haven’t seen before.” Let’s not remember tonight, he doesn’t say, I’m exhausted from all the remembering.
“Yeah, sounds good.” I’m exhausted, too.
He presses a small peck to the crown of your hair before he rests his head on top of yours. You close your eyes. It’s not peace, exactly, but it’s the next best thing; something like it, something close to it, something you could almost mistake for healing if you don’t take a proper look. Maybe it will lead to healing, eventually. Maybe you’ll be able to watch old movies again some day, and maybe you’ll be able to seek the answers to questions you’re still too afraid to ask now.
masterlist ♡ tysm for reading & do tell me if you'd like to see more of this au ♡
𓂃 ོ⋆☀︎𓂃⛱ summer has always been the time of love, whether sparks fly at work, during a night out, or on a vacation—summer has it all!
💌 leave a message in the comments if you'd like to be tagged when the stories come out!
room 001 — the wedding play by @izzyy-stuff
・❥・You wouldn’t say lying comes easy to you. Especially not when you’re surrounded by people you care so deeply about. But when you’re forced into a corner, there is nothing left for you to do but to lie your way out, dragging an innocent server down with you. Luckily for you, Soobin, the ever so helpful server, is more than willing to make your time here enjoyable. So what if he has to attend a wedding for people he’s never met before? As lon as he’s by your side, he doesn’t mind anything you throw his way.
pairing → server!Soobin x fem!reader
genre → romcom, fake dating, strangers to friends to lovers
teaser | full fic
room 002 — Mr. incompetent by @nanilis
・❥・The chairman’s son. Corporate’s golden boy. Future executive. Your newest shadow. You’d call Choi Yeonjun many things.
Unfortunately…
“Completely useless” turns out not to be one of them.
pairing → hotel owner’s son!yeonjun x events manager!f reader
genre → workplace romance, enemies (kind of) to lovers, slow burn
teaser | full fic
room 003 — obessica by @gyuzies
・❥・beomgyu who happens to be your best friend and the bartender at the hotel you work at together, and the guy who rearranges your gut when nobody is looking. I mean its just sex — you're looking out for him, so when his 'situationship' comes into the bar and you 'accidentally' spill a drink on her, beomgyu has absolutely no choice but to deal with you the only way he knows how — fuck the attitude out of ya!
pairing → bartender!beomgyu x server!reader
genre → fwb to lovers, jealousy, coworkers to lovers
teaser | full fic
room 004 — driftwood by @filmsbyun
・❥・"I'm giving you all of me so I can hold you better." His lips brushed over yours as the barest touch. "Please don't hurt me."
You had always been good at hiding. Good enough that people eventually stopped asking where you had gone. When your friend convinced you to trade your penthouse and your solitude for a fortnight at his family's resort, you reluctantly agreed with little expectation beyond filling empty days. That was before you met Kang Taehyun, who was not looking for love any more than you were.
Two people with no intention of being found placed inside the same snow globe. That, as it turns out, is not the same as not being found.
pairing → lounge singer!Kang Taehyun x afab!reader
genre → slow burn, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers
teaser | full fic
room 005 — a mater of taste by @orbitondgtl
・❥・As a chef in a resort and the reigns completely in your hands, you were exactly where you needed to be. Food was the central point of your life. It was your way of expressing yourself, but like a language that people never truly got. That was until a receptionist and his lunch request unlocked undiscovered feelings. And they were like nothing you'd ever tasted before.
pairing → receptionist!kai x chef!fem!reader
genre → coworkers to lovers, feel-good, culinary romance
teaser | full fic
we are so so so happy to finally bring this collab to you all!! Huge shout out to everyone involved!! If you'd like to be tagged in all of these fics, you can just leave a comment bellow. Otherwise, feel free to look out for individual teasers and/or full fics!
I’m so excited to be doing an event with some of my closest friends >.< I would appreciate if yall could check all of the stories out!!! There’s a lot of work going into them and I can guarantee amazing quality 🙂↕️
wc: 1k; tags: psychological horror, paranormal forces implied to be at play or maybe you're just losing your mind, lowkey yandere!yh; warnings: blood, mentions of death/wanting to die, no implied or graphic violence despite the genre
a small drabble for the nightmare before christmas collab
a/n: is this what i have actually planned for the collab? well no, but i needed a little break from working on the actual fic, and the idea for this kind of yunho au has been haunting @blizzardfluffykpop and me for quite a while now~ hope you enjoy! also do check out the other fics for the collab (&you can still join too)~
collab masterlist | ateez masterlist
The snow is biting at your bare feet with sharp teeth and your toes have long started to feel numb. But you need to keep going, the few meters of rope you have left proof of how far you’ve come. The rough surface has scraped your palms to the point of leaving them sore and bloody, but you can barely register the pain. Like your toes, your hands are numb from the cold and the tips of your fingers are already turning blue. Still, you hold onto the rope, keeping it taut and making sure it stays as straight as possible behind you. You’ve tried to escape this cursed forest one too many times to let go now, not when this is the closest to a plan you’ve ever had.
You’ve found the seemingly endless rope in the basement and then patiently waited for him to fall asleep before you snuck out and tightly secured it around one of the wooden pillars on the porch in the early morning hours. Surely, if you just keep it in a straight line behind you, you will not end up going in a circle again. Surely, it will be different this time. Surely, you’ll never have to see that goddamn house again. He’ll regret letting you roam around so freely, but by the time he notices you’ll already be long gone.
That fighting spirit is hard to keep up though. You're at a disadvantage, not just because of the snow, but also because the days are too short. The sun has already started to set and the temperatures will drop even further once the last rays have disappeared at the horizon. And he is going to wake up too. You know you have to reach something, you have to be somewhere, before the night falls. But you're reaching your limit. Your steps are becoming slower with every meter. The cold has crept into every crevice of your lungs, making it painful and hard to breathe. And with every passing moment, with every snowflake settling on the crown of your head, hope is shrinking. You're not going to make it. Maybe, if you're lucky, someone will find you out here before he does. Or maybe you’ll just die here. It doesn’t seem that scary now. Rather, the thought of falling into a deep and endless sleep seems almost comforting. At least you wouldn’t be freezing anymore. At least you wouldn’t be dragged back again.
But then, your bleary eyes spot something in the growing darkness. A small cottage between the tall trees. There’s smoke rising up from the chimney and light behind the windows.
Someone.
Help.
Hope.
You can almost forget the pain as you stumble forward, gathering your last strength to reach the cottage. After all the failed attempts, you’ll finally be safe. Whoever lives there will surely help you. You’ll get to go home.
You get closer, step by step. You can see the candles in the windows giving out a soft warm glow. You can see a familiar chair on the porch, white fur draped over it for comfort. And you see something tied around one of the pillars. A rope. It's wrapped around the dark wood, once, twice, secured by a tight knot. The short end is dangling beneath it, the other is leading out into the forest, disappearing somewhere between the endless trees.
You let out a laugh—shrill, desperate, hysteric. When you look behind, the rope in your hand is in a straight line, like it has been this whole time. You drop it into the snow, and the rope tied to the pillar slacks too. You still can’t stop your manic laughter, even when none of this feels the slightest bit funny at all. It's an automatic response, a reaction born from the inability to comprehend the cruel truth you're being confronted with. The tears rolling down your cheeks feel cold. Slowly, you sink to your knees, your joints frozen from the long walk. It was all for nothing. You barely feel the snow soaking through the fabric of your pants as you curl up on yourself, laughing, crying, sobbing. You wish you'd never gotten this far. You wish you would have died before getting here. But how foolish to think he'd ever let you.
You don’t bother to look up when you hear steps in the snow. It doesn’t matter anymore.
“Dearest, what are you doing out here, hm?” Yunho's voice is soft and gentle. He crouches down beside you and it doesn’t even make you flinch when he wipes away the tears staining your cheeks. “You’re not wearing shoes. What were you in such a hurry for, that you couldn’t put on shoes?” He sighs, as if you're just a silly kid that went out barefooted. As if you didn't risk your life just to get away from him, again and again and again.
You don’t resist when he lifts you up and carries you back towards the house. You know fighting is futile. His arms are wrapped around you tightly, and if you’re not careful you could almost find comfort in his steady hold. Your head lolls forward, coming to rest on his shoulder. You’re glad you don’t have to look at him. Instead, you stare into the snowy forest all around you. You wonder if you’ll get to see anything else ever again.
“Will you ever let me go home?” your voice sounds so distant, you barely register it as your own.
“But, dearest,” he replies with a little chuckle, “We're already there.”
He takes the familiar wooden steps leading up to the porch, carrying you like you barely weigh anything to him at all. When he pushes open the front door, you're immediately engulfed in the warmth radiating from the crackling fireplace. It's a blessing to your frozen body.
“Home sweet home,” he hums and you hear the smile in his voice. You’re scared you'll start believing it one of these days.
His arms are wrapped around you tightly, and if you’re not careful you could almost find comfort in his steady hold.
love the classic horror of being trapped and the slipperiness of reality vs. psychological! you set up an empty, chilling wilderness, only to hone in on (what should have been) the warmth of home. it’s that subtle threat that gets me, that hairsbreadth between sweet promise and uncanny warning of /never/ letting go
aaah i'm so glad you enjoyed the theme of this fic!! it was sm fun to write & while i knew it won't be everyone's cup of tea i'm glad you've liked it & also so glad it conveyed the feeling i was going for!!! 🩷🫶🏻
it's not until later that soobin will understand the true meaning of this night.
wc: 1.3k; tags: historical/royal au, slightly angsty, y/n implied to have long-ish hair
a/n: i've had this written for a while and since the OG part got a little traction again these days i decided to just post this as well. there's also a sequel in my drafts hehe~
masterlist
Soobin stands before your chambers, taking a moment to collect himself before he lifts his hand to the heavy door and knocks exactly three times, twice quickly and then once more with a little delay. “It's me, your highness,” he says, “Soobin,” though he knows you must have already recognized him. He still thinks it's proper etiquette to say his name before coming in, especially at this time of day.
“Yes,” he hears your voice from inside. When he opens the doors you're sitting at the vanity table. Your back is turned to him, but he can see your face through the mirror, gaze cast downwards, keeping your hands busy by arranging brushes and hair clips in front of you. Not in a nervous manner though. You seem calm and collected and something about it makes him feel nervous instead. What could you need him for at a time like now, in a setting like this? You never call him just for company, he knows that. Even when it isn't always recognizable at first, even when it sometimes seems like a casual meeting between people who could be friends if it weren’t for the differences in their status, there is always more behind it. Always a task to be assigned, always a message to be conveyed. So, what could possibly be on your mind to require his presence tonight?
The candle that's supposed to make up for the waning light of the evening sun is flickering in the air circulation caused by the open doors. He closes them behind himself and tentatively takes a few steps into the middle of the room.
"You called for me?”
"Will you brush my hair?" You ask non-chalant, like you're not asking him, a mere knight, to assist you in something so personal. It makes his breathing hitch. You've never asked something like that of him before.
“I can call for your maid."
A smile plays on your lips as your gaze lifts to meet his through the reflection. "But I specifically called for you, Soobin."
He swallows thickly and he tries to even his voice when he replies, “Yes, your highness.”
His fingers are trembling when he takes the comb you hand to him, and they tremble more when he touches the lengths of your hair. He has never touched you so intimately, only ever briefly held onto your hand as he helped you into a carriage or down a flight of stairs. This is completely different. With your hair falling loosely over your back, and your under dress no longer tied into a corset comes a vulnerability he has never once been allowed to see, much less touch.
He moves the comb slowly through the strands of hair, careful with each and every small tangle, terrified of possibly hurting you. None of his tension seems to bleed into you though. You're relaxed, eyes closed almost as if you're enjoying the treatment. (But of course, Soobin is not delusional enough to believe that.)
"There will be a revolution,” you say eventually, voice calm, “The people are in uproar. Rightfully so, too."
He doesn't know how to respond. He knows how observant and smart you are, and yet he didn’t realize this was something you thought about. "You don't have to concern yourself with these things, your highness."
"Why? Because I'm a woman? Because my father and brother have it handled?"
He swallows. He knows the answer he is about to give is not the one you want to hear. It's not what he thinks either, but it's what he knows he should answer, "Yes."
You let out a bitter little laugh. "Of course. Of course, politics are no place for a woman. But tell me, Soobin, if the crown falls, won't I fall with it just like my father and brother will? And if the castle burns down, won't a heavy dress catch fire a lot more easily than a pair of pants?”
You open your eyes, but not to meet his gaze. Rather, they wander outside the window, into the distance as you calmly continue, “I'll be engulfed in fire so quickly, and I'll burn so much more cruelly, for I haven't made any of the decisions that led to this."
You meet his gaze through the mirror now, finally, "So, do I not have plenty of reason to concern myself with these things? If my life depends on them?"
It's frightening how easily you speak of a revolution, how carelessly you imply a downfall of the crown, words that would cost anyone else their head. But who would tell on you? And who would convict you? Certainly not him, certainly not your family.
"You know, I'm not very forgiving by nature,” you continue without waiting for a response to your question.
"No, your highness," he agrees. You make it sound like a weakness, but to Soobin it's a quality of yours that he values a lot. You're strong and just, not quick to let go of what you think is right or wrong but not too hasty with your judgement either.
"I think though, when it comes to my innermost circle, I'm willing to forgive even the unthinkable."
"Who belongs to that circle?" He asks before he can stop himself and he makes a mental note to chastise himself for this insolent curiosity later. You don't seem to condemn him though, instead you chuckle as you watch him through the mirror, rough and clumsy hands carefully moving the comb with the delicately engraved flowers through your hair.
"Who indeed," you say with mirth in your eyes, "Perhaps a person I trust enough to guard my sleep."
He nods. That makes sense, of course only someone trusted like that should be allowed to protect you in your most vulnerable state. He wouldn’t let just anyone near your chambers either, always on high alert when he stands watch.
"Or someone who goes out hunting with me."
Soobin nods again. This too makes sense. You're very skilled with your rifle, he knows that and has seen it many times when you took him out to the forest for a lack of better company. But no matter how good of a shot you are yourself, it doesn't hurt to be careful when picking an entourage that will carry a firearm themselves.
"Or someone I'd allow to brush my hair."
He falters and the comb clatters to the floor. "Pardon me," he stutters, urgently picking it back up.
You don't seem bothered by the disturbance, nor do you seem to think the implication of your words are as far-reaching as they feel to Soobin. "And that innermost circle," you smile, "they could even commit treachery."
Soobin struggles to find his words again and he doesn’t meet your gaze when he finally does press out a response, "They would never betray you like that, or they never deserved your trust to begin with."
"Right," you sigh, "I fear they may not."
He’d like to swear his loyalty all over again and assure you that there is nothing to fear. But he knows he can’t do that without acknowledging what isn’t allowed to be acknowledged: that you consider him, a commoner, a measly knight, part of your inner circle. So he says nothing at all and instead gathers your hair into a low ponytail that he ties with a ribbon. It looks clumsy, but you smile, “It’s beautiful.” It’s not.
You are, though.
Only later Soobin understands that you weren’t afraid he would betray you, but rather feared that he wouldn’t; feared that he wasn’t willing to sacrifice you to save himself. A ridiculous thought, really, considering his own life had only come to have meaning because you gave one to it. There is no life worth saving if you're not in it. He may be part of your inner circle, but you are the only circle he has, the only person worth living and worth dying for.
masterlist | pls consider reblogging/commenting if you liked this ♡
there's something out there... and it wants to come in.
▷ genre, warnings. MATURE. supernatural horror, angst, suspense; swearing, graphic depictions of violence and gore, character deaths, yn does hunt animals (sustainable hunter, only small game), stalking, kidnapping, a lot of dead animals and some animal cruelty mentioned, obsessive/manipulative behavior, it takes place in a past not too long ago? (they use landlines lol), implications of purposeful self-inflicted harm (not by yn), a certain level of stupidity from the mc TT but it wouldn't be a horror fic without it, faking d*mestic violence for sympathy, death by drowning, no smut (it's rated mature bc it's intense and dark)
DISCLAIMER: what you are about to read is dark and somewhat disturbing. this is NOT a romance. my depictions in this story do not represent these idols in any way—it is just fiction. please remember to READ THE WARNINGS, as you are responsible for what you consume.
▷ word count. 24.6k (ao3 link)
▷ associated tunes. white winter hymnal (i always found the lyrics somewhat ... unsettling), carol of the bells, every breath you take (the police) (for obvious reasons)
▷ this is my submission for the nightmare before christmas collab hosted by @jinkoh and @blizzardfluffykpop !! thank u both for hosting; this fic was such a fun challenge <3
a/n: okay to be so honest w y'all idk if this can actually be considered horror, but it's certainly /dark/ anyway hope u enjoy nonetheless!
one. the forest remembers
There were footprints in the snow.
Not even a mile into the woods, blanketed in white, you already caught onto a trail. From what you remembered, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to find wildlife so abundant in these parts; you simply didn’t count on finding anything so soon. These tracks in particular were not as defined in the soft snow beneath your feet. However, you could make out the two toes and their heart-shaped nature by comparing the different prints.
There was no doubt about it. You’d stumbled upon a deer.
A familiar thrill rushed through your veins, the blood pulsating against the thin skin of your throat. The excitement that came with knowing there was an animal nearby was a feeling you hadn’t experienced in years. Your instincts were rusty, but they were slowly returning to you.
Your gloved fingers tightened around the neck of your bow. The crossbow your aunt and uncle owned remained in the warmth of the cabin—that was something you needed more time retraining yourself with. Your intention wasn’t to come out and hunt; your intention was to refresh your archery muscles, and maybe explore the surrounding woods a little. To actually find animal tracks though—talk about beginner's luck.
Eyes darting between the footprints and the surrounding area, you swiftly and carefully picked your way deeper into the forest. Your breaths came out in short, visible puffs, nearly blending in with the abundant snow. An overcast sky hung over your head, high above where the evergreens and birches stretched.
The tread marks you left behind were light, quiet. The snow was fresh from the night before, soft, not icy.
You told yourself you only wanted to see the deer. There was nothing quite like catching sight of one in the wild.
It wasn't denied to you for much longer, in fact.
Several meters ahead, you spotted the light brown fur of a doe. Her lean form was bowed toward a patch of grass sprouting up through the snow. There were delicate, little white spots dotting her side, not quite at her belly.
You kept your shoulder pressed to the nearest tree, the bark scratching against your jacket and your cheek as you marveled at the deer ahead.
You nearly jumped as the animal suddenly whipped her head up.
Your hand tightened on your bow, your entire body tensing to keep from making a sound. It was as if the deer had sensed you watching it, except…
Her head wasn't turned in your direction—she was turned slightly to your right.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood erect and a chill crept down your spine despite the thick jacket keeping out the winter cold. You turned your head in the direction of the doe's gaze, staring out into the white wintry woods.
What had she sensed?
It was as if the whole forest had gone silent while lying in wait. Or perhaps, even the birds had abandoned this neck of the woods, for fear of what predator they'd spied. Not a single chirp was heard nor breath was seen.
You and the deer held still for a moment.
And then another.
After the third beat of silence passed, you decided it wasn't worth finding out what an animal's survival instinct had picked up on. You tried not to make a sound while running back to the cabin.
Your estranged aunt and uncle had entrusted you with their cabin for a month. They were a couple whom your relatives enjoyed gossiping about, with the occasional comment about their reclusiveness and their “uncivilized” nature because they were hunters. You found it rather hypocritical, really. After all, several of them were trained to hunt, too, including yourself.
You kept in touch with your aunt and uncle the most out of your relatives, which was why you suspected you were their first choice to cabin-sit for the month of January. After a stressful season at your investment firm, you were ready to become your own sort of hermit in the mountains. Where else better than the secluded wintry wonderland of your youth?
The chains looped around your car's tires clinked together as you rolled into a parking spot along a curb in town. Your cabin was one of the farther ones out, but the drive into town wasn't terrible. The only issue would be if you were snowed in, but that was what the radios were for.
Despite the temperature being below freezing, the small town was a-buzz with people. They all seemed to know each other—waving hello, stopping to chat, helping one another on their way, and the like. Everyone in town was close-knit, including your aunt and uncle. It had been several years since you were last here; would any of them recognize you?
As the bell twinkled above the café door, warmth swarmed every inch of your exposed skin. The air was perfumed with the smell of cinnamon and butter, leading you straight to the counter as if you were hooked to a fishing line. Stepping inside was like being drowned in a cup of hot chocolate.
“Well, I'll be damned,” said a deep voice to your right.
Your head turned in that direction, tearing away from the baked goods behind the glass display. There was a blond young man seated on one of the stools at the counter, cheekbones smattered with freckles, lips stretched in a smile that glowed like the sun. You felt your memory twitch. He seemed familiar.
“I'm sorry,” you said with an awkward smile. “Do I…?”
The man's smile didn't even budge. In fact, it seemed to widen. “Is this what working on Wall Street did to you? Fry the memory of your old partner in crime right out of your brain?”
Partner in crime?
Then it clicked.
Your eyes shot wide open, and his own twinkled in a mischief that made you a little too nostalgic. “No way,” you gasped. “In my defense, I didn't expect you to look like a fried chicken, Felix.” The last time you saw him, his hair was still its natural color.
He threw his head back in a laugh before lifting his palms up in surrender. “Alright, fair enough,” he relented. He patted the open stool beside him. “Come, sit! It's literally been ages.”
“It definitely has been,” you agreed as you took the spot he offered up.
The older woman stationed behind the counter arrived before you, and you requested one of the pretty-looking raspberry danishes from the display, as well as a cup of coffee.
As she left to retrieve your order for you, you turned to Felix. “And by the way, I don't work on Wall Street.”
“All finance is the same to me,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and lifting his cup to his lips.
You shook your head, then thanked the woman as she set down a piping hot cup of coffee and danish in front of you. “That's exactly what my aunt and uncle say to me.”
They were always rather supportive when you spoke to them, but they hadn't the slightest interest in what you did for work. What interest could they possibly have when they lived in such a quaint place? They lived the perfect little life up here.
Felix brightened. “Oh, speaking of your aunt and uncle,” he piped up, “I was so surprised to hear they were actually going out of town. They aren't the sort to opt for a tropical vacation, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” you mused. You took a bite out of your pastry, dusting the crumbs onto the plate. “They won some sweepstakes trip to an island. I don't think they would've considered it had I not agreed to watch their place for them.”
Your companion gave a knowing nod. His parents owned a cabin up here, as well, which was why you knew each other in your mutual youth. Spending one's childhoods together bonding over snowball fights and cookie-baking was a friendship that was difficult to forget.
“Yeah, my folks rent out our cabin most of the year anyway, and it was hard for me to convince them to pick someplace else to vacation this year. Truly though, they had a bucket list of places. It wouldn't kill them to see new things.”
“For sure,” you agreed wholeheartedly.
“But you know” —his voice dropped a little lower and he leaned in slightly, eyes glancing around as if to ensure no one nearby was listening too closely— “maybe it's best that they're all away this year. People have been saying that we've got a bit of a wolf problem now.”
Your brows twisted together, heart kicking in your chest. “A wolf problem?” you echoed. You knew it wasn't unheard-of to see a wolf here and there deep in the woods, but their population was never an issue. “What do you mean?”
Felix's expression had gradually fallen into something solemn and serious, a strange look for a man whose smiles were his resting face. “Well apparently, a pack of rogue wolves migrated into the area at the tail end of last winter. They hunt, like, all the time and they've nearly decimated the local wildlife population.”
Oh. A frown etched itself into your face.
Since however long you'd known this place, you knew that there was a pack of gray wolves that already occupied this territory. Predator species were usually no trouble; in fact, wolves were the keystone species of this ecosystem. They held up the natural order.
But for there to be a new group of wolves in town? How could they possibly coexist?
You mulled over the new information Felix told you. But hadn't you just seen a doe earlier today? “That’s unfortunate to hear,” you murmured. “Has the town leadership tried to do something about it yet? Maybe call in an external wildlife group to help relocate them?”
“I think they did, but it might not have worked out,” he replied before taking another sip of his beverage. “I just wanted you to know to be extra careful if you're out there.”
“I appreciate the warning, Felix. Thanks.”
The doe from earlier… had she sensed a wolf? But a wolf wouldn't have waited that long to go after the deer, and the deer would've run sooner.
None of it quite made sense to you, but maybe your hunting logic was still a tad unseasoned.
You finished up your coffee and pastry, passed the waitress the money to cover your bill, and promised Felix you would give him a call once you got back to your cabin. It was comforting to know that at least one person remembered you, and that one person just happened to be one of your friends.
You tightened your jacket around you, yanking up the collar around the lower half of your face to brace for when you returned into the cold.
The bell above the door gave another chime as you exited—a more aggressive jangle than the one before, just as an aggressive and frigid gust of wind blew past.
“Good grief,” you muttered with a wince.
You shoved your hands into your coat pockets and continued to trudge down the street. There were a couple errands you needed to run before you could return to the cabin, and that included stocking up on emergency supplies and figuring out what you would eat for dinner.
As a second unforgiving gust of wind rushed you, you slowed your movements and raised a hand to shield your face against some of the icy particles.
You weren't able to see the person walking opposite you then, and you felt your shoulder ram into the hard muscle and bone of someone else's.
“Ow—oh, sorry! I didn't see you there,” you said as you turned to address the person you bumped into.
Your footsteps and breathing faltered as a pair of sharp and dark eyes pierced into you like twin shards of ice. You weren't expecting immediate and direct eye contact. He was a lean and limber young man, about your age perhaps, with short blond hair and a prominent nose. There was a mole beneath one of his eyes, something that drew your attention away from his lack of layers. How he could survive such temperatures with only a thin overshirt, you would never understand.
“No, it was my fault entirely,” he replied. His mouth pressed into a small smile and he clasped a hand onto the shoulder he collided with. “Are you alright?”
His tone and expression were friendly enough, and you took your increased heart rate as a sign of pleasant surprise. He was rather handsome.
“Oh yeah, I'm fine,” you dismissed with a chuckle. “Don't worry about me.”
He withdrew his hand from your shoulder and cupped it over the back of his neck in a sort of sheepishness. “This is a little embarrassing, but… you're new around here, right? I could've sworn I haven't seen you here before, but I could be wrong.”
You gave a slight shrug, grinning at him. “Somewhat. I'm housesitting for my aunt and uncle, but I haven't been up here in ages. I suppose you can say I'm new.” You stuck your hand out to him. “I'm Yn, by the way.”
The man slid his palm against yours, thumb locking your hands together in a handshake. “Wooyoung,” he said. “Planning to stay here long?”
“A few weeks,” you answered. “You?”
“Oh” —he gave a shrug— “I'm here all year 'round. My brothers and I… we've got a place nearby.”
You nodded. “That sounds nice. I've always liked being here.”
His head cocked to the side at your comment, and you thought you saw his eyes narrow, but perhaps that was just the icy wind blurring your vision. “You have, hm? Well, we could always use more pretty faces around here like yours. You should stay all year long,” he said.
His lip twitched upward at the corner and you took that as a sign that his words were light-hearted. His compliment didn't go unnoticed by you, though, and you were glad it was cold enough to prevent yourself from feeling too flustered.
You laughed. “I wish! If I could retire early, I would, then I’d move up here to live out the rest of my days.”
The sound of regular chatter and jolly laughter drew your attention away from Wooyoung momentarily, and it reminded you of your agenda further down the street.
“Do you happen to hunt?”
Your head swiveled back to Wooyoung, who's stare never left your face. “Hunt?” you parroted back. “I do. I'm a little rusty though, if I'm being honest.”
He stuck his tongue in his cheek, smile widening. “No worries, it's just like riding a bicycle—I don't really know how to ride a bicycle, but… y'know.”
“I understand you completely,” you reassured. “Listen, it was really nice meeting you, Wooyoung, but I'm afraid I've got some errands to run. I'm sure we'll bump into each other in town again sooner or later.”
Something flickered across his face, but he nodded. “It was really nice meeting you, too, Yn. I hope it's sooner rather than later.”
You were already beginning to step away, but you lifted your hand in a wave. “Count on it!”
You turned on your heel to continue on your way, shoving your freezing hands back into the safety of your coat pockets. The entire time you walked, you didn't know why, but the hairs on the back of your neck pricked up like they had in the woods earlier—back when you were in the midst of a predator.
There was fortunately still light outside by the time you returned to your cabin later that afternoon. It was light enough, in fact, that you returned to the woods several feet from your back porch, to try your luck once more.
Felix's words from earlier rang in your ears again, and that was partly why you rather wanted to go find that deer.
Did she happen to get away safely, you wondered, as you picked your way through the ice-covered dirt and lifted tree roots. The last couple hours of light filtered through the thin, dark trees, like bars in a prison. You promised yourself you were only curious and would turn back before it grew dark.
But the deeper you ventured into the woods, the more that sinking feeling grew in your gut.
Your feet came to a halt at the sight of a dark lump lying by the foot of a tree.
Even from a slight distance, you knew what a dead body looked like. An animal's dead body.
The doe's eyes were so wide you could still see the light reflect off her black pupils, her mouth open in fear or a frozen snapshot of her screams. Her entire middle had been eviscerated, flesh torn, ribcage cracked open with the bones bloody and red-brown. The snow around her body was a murky shade of rust by now.
A wave of heavy acceptance washed over you. So there was a wolf here earlier, and she hadn't gotten away.
Just as you decided to wait here for a moment in silence, that distinct weight of a stare fell upon you.
It raised the hairs and goosebumps on your skin, made your heart quicken in your chest on its own.
Right, it would be foolish of you to linger out here for too long. That deer carcass wasn't exactly old. Before you could scare yourself anymore, you turned tail and headed back to the safety of your cabin.
two. a learning curve
“You ought to have the cabin checked out, honey. I know your aunt and uncle haven't secured their locks in awhile, but you're livin’ up there alone.”
A good-natured laugh tumbled out of you as you hugged a paper bag of small household appliances to your chest. It had been a few days since you arrived, but everyone in town treated you like family, especially once they realized who you were related to.
This was only one such instance—you met Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins in one of the stores in town while you were grabbing some extra batteries, matches, cleaners, and the like. They once ran a small business of installing security systems for cabins and homes before they retired. Most of the security was to ensure bears or mice couldn't get in, but on the offhand a wolf or something was near, they assisted with that, too.
Mr. Hawkins held the door open for you as you and his wife strolled out of the store. “Charlene is right, y'know, Yn,” he said. “We could give the cabin a quick once-over—free of charge.” He made a gesture with his hands before hooking his thumbs into his pockets. “I know I would be anxious about our daughter living in a cabin so close to the woods on her own.”
“I appreciate it, Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins, but—”
“It's not that we don't think you can take care of yourself,” Mrs. Hawkins cut in with a tender gaze. “Really, with all of these wolf attacks lately, it's better to be safe than sorry. What'd'ya say?”
You bit your lip. “Well…” It wouldn't hurt, would it? They were the best in town and friends of your aunt and uncle's. “As long as it's no trouble.”
The couple smiled warmly at you as your trio stopped next to their truck. “No trouble at all,” she assured you. “Are you headed back now? We can drive up in our car behind you.”
“Oh, yes! My car's parked just down the road—thanks a bunch, Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins.”
They nodded their understanding and promised to be right behind you.
You hugged your bag of purchases to your chest with one arm while you fished around in your pocket for your keys. You hurried over the icy snow to your car, a block's walk from the store you just visited.
As you spotted your car in the near distance, your eyes also snagged on a familiar blond making his way down the street toward you.
It was strange, really. It was a rather small town but you truly didn't think you would see Wooyoung this much. It seemed like every time you were in town, the two of you would just so happen to bump into one another.
At this point, it was too frequent to be coincidence.
“Hey Yn,” he greeted you as he practically jogged the rest of the way to you.
There was a certain energy about him today, a wildness in his eyes and in the wideness of his smile. His lips were slightly redder, making the white of his teeth all the more apparent.
“Hey Wooyoung.” You clutched your keys in a fist and pulled your arm out to hold your bag with two hands. “Funny seeing you here,” you jested.
He laughed. “It really is a small town.” His eyes flickered down to your car keys and the paper bag. “You heading home?”
You nodded, absentmindedly glancing at all of the stuff you bought. “Yeah, just about to…” your words trailed off as you lifted your gaze. A smudge of dark red on the collar of his shirt made you pause. Your eyes shuttered, blinking. “Been out hunting recently?” you asked. That was the only explanation for what looked like blood on his clothes.
He seemed to perk up at that, straightening. “Yes,” he said with a grin. “It was a good exercise in patience, if you know what I mean.”
You supposed you did know what he meant. “Yeah, of course,” you said. “Well, uhm, I should be on my way.” You jabbed your thumb in the direction of your car.
“Don't let me keep you,” he said, raising his palms with a grin.
You pursed your lips together, lifting your fingers in a gesture of goodbye, then making the rest of the way back to your car.
You dumped everything into the passenger seat, cranked up the heat, and scanned the road for the Hawkins's truck. Sure enough, you spotted their black four-wheeler lingering across the street, with the couple inside waving at you.
You returned the gesture and began to peel away from the curb.
Just as you turned the steering wheel, instinct had you turning your gaze back to the sidewalk. Wooyoung was no longer there. In fact, he wasn't anywhere along the street anymore.
He's probably gone into one of the shops nearby, you thought to yourself, almost chidingly.
You thought nothing much of it afterward—not the blood on Wooyoung's clothes, the speed at which he disappeared, nor the fact that there were no indications that he was even there at all.
The familiar sight of your aunt and uncle's cabin came into view about fifteen minutes into driving. Your chained-up tires crunched along the icy road as you carefully steered the car up into the driveway.
You killed the engine in a swift tug, jamming the keys into your pockets and hurrying to meet the Hawkins as they parked beside you.
“Wow, it has been quite a while since I've been out here,” Mr. Hawkins chuckled, shaking his head as he marveled at the cabin. “Joanna and Ethan sure keep this place looking cozy.”
You smiled proudly up at the log cabin. “They do,” you agreed fondly. “It looks like not a day's even passed since I was a kid and it was winter break.”
“Well,” Mrs. Hawkins chirped and trudged over the snow beside you, “we'll test out the doors and windows, then be out of your hair, honey. We'll let you know if anything seems troubling.”
“Sounds great,” you said sincerely. “Thank you again, by the way.”
You and the couple began walking toward the front of the cabin.
“It's not a problem, really. We—” Mr. Hawkins's words came to an abrupt halt.
You all saw it at about the same time.
“Oh dear…” Mrs. Hawkins murmured.
There was a pile of fresh snow littering a section of your porch, right before your front door. The snow being out of place wasn't the problem; it was what physically blocked the entrance to your house that was troubling.
Lying upon the snow like it was the prized game to be carved at a feast, was the body of a deer. It was clearly only recently killed, with its blood still a deep red as it dribbled from gnarly gashes in its side. It hadn't yet begun to smell because of the cold, but it didn't stop the horror curdling in your stomach.
Finding dead animals on one's porch tended to elicit such a reaction.
“I'm glad we came up here when we did, Yn,” Mr. Hawkins said grimly, glancing between you and the corpse at your door. “I don't know who thought this would be funny, but” —he shook his head, a crease appearing between his brows— “you just be extra careful, alright?”
Your fingers suddenly became deadly frozen. “I will,” you muttered, nodding shallowly. Who, or what, could have done this? Surely it was sending a message.
Mrs. Hawkins rubbed her hand over your upper back, eyes sympathetic. “We'll help you get it out of the way. Don't you worry.”
In all your years of life, you'd never once read or heard about something like this happening. When there were wolves out in the woods hunting down all the wildlife, then what could have left their perfectly-dead meal at your doorstep instead?
It was almost like an offering. A rather morbid one, but an offering nonetheless.
Or a warning.
What else could it be?
The wind whistled through the cracks in your windows as you stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel furiously through your wet locks. A healthy fire crackled in the main room, helping greatly to keep your body warm. Outside, white wispy flurries whipped past your windows in the dark; there was definitely going to be a fresh layer of powder on the ground by tomorrow morning.
Sleep had yet to tug at the corners of your eyes and you settled onto your couch to pick up your nightly bout of reading.
Just as you were settling in, a loud trill rattled through the cabin. You leapt out of your skin slightly, head swerving in the direction of the rotary phone spasming to life on the end table.
You crawled over the cushions and latched onto the phone, tucking it into the crook of your neck. “Hello, Ln Residence.”
It was rather late to be getting a call.
There was the sound of a hitched breath from the other side—then, “Yn, it's uhm Mr. Hawkins.”
Oh. You shifted into a more comfortable position on your current couch cushion. “Hi, Mr. Hawkins. What can I do for you?”
“Ah, right—I—we, Charlene and I, were talking.” His words trudged along low and slow, as if they were creeping along the surface of a frozen-over lake. “And we realized that, uhm, we were being a little overzealous with our examination of the cabin earlier.”
Your brows furrowed. How odd. “So you're saying…”
“You're perfectly safe in the cabin, and, ah—you shouldn't need to worry about upgrades.”
“Mr. Hawkins, I don't think I understand,” you replied, tugging your knees to your chest. Frankly, you were deeply confused and rather concerned. “Earlier, you and Mrs. Hawkins were adamant about putting higher security measures in place, especially after seeing that dead deer at my door—”
“Well we were wrong!”
You heart slammed against your throat, and you thought you heard what sounded like a low growl in the background.
Mr. Hawkins's voice came back stammering even more violently than before. “I—I apologize. I didn't mean to yell at you, Yn. It's… it's been a long, uhm, day.”
Your fingers clutched the phone in a tight grip. “I understand,” you replied softly. It was clear to you that there was immense strain in his voice. He sounded like he was distraught or stressed. “Mr. Hawkins, is everything alright? Are you and Mrs. Hawkins doing okay?”
Had something happened to them after they disposed of the deer in the woods?
He cleared his throat loud. “Yes, we're doing perfectly—perfectly fine, Yn. We're sorry for, ah, wasting your time earlier. You don't need to expect us tomorrow mornin’.”
“You weren't wasting my time, Mr. Hawkins, I assure you.” You twisted the phone cord around your fingers, tightening them into a slight fist. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes darting in the directions of your front and back doors. “But the more I've been thinking about those security measures, the more I'm sold on them. Would you and Mrs. Hawkins possibly be able to still install them for me? I'll pay you for the trouble.”
“No.” The word slugged you in the chest. “That won't be necessary. You'll be fine. Good—good night now.”
He wasn't giving you much room to argue. What happened to all that talk about being a young woman living on the edge of the woods alone? You couldn't help but frown. “Yeah, alright. G'night Mr. Hawkins. I hope you both have a nice evening.”
The phone hung up with a click and steady dial tone.
You set the phone back onto its receiver and stared at the rotary dial for a long moment. Maybe they changed their minds about installing all that stuff for free and didn't know how else to refuse you. But still, hadn't you offered them compensation?
It was so… strange. And Mr. Hawkins's voice over the phone sounded so uncertain of himself. He was stressed, or perhaps, nervous about something.
Should you go check on them tomorrow?
“Would it be neighborly of me to do?” you asked yourself aloud while reaching for your book again. They'd been so eager to offer you a helping hand, only to take it away so suddenly.
Could it have been that they were made anxious about you?
Stranger danger in a small town wasn't exactly a foreign concept. At one point, you were bound to feel like an outsider. You just couldn't take it too personally.
You didn't see the Hawkins couple in town after that day. You wondered what someone could have possibly said to make them avoid you like the plague, or—perhaps more terribly—could something have happened to them?
“Someone mentioned that their house is empty,” Felix said to you offhandedly one morning over a donut and hot chocolate.
The two of you sat opposite one another in the bakery-cafe to breakfast together. You were plagued by concerns over the Hawkins's, as well as the continued appearance of dead animals at your door. Only the first time was the animal left at your front door; every other time since then was at the back.
It was consistently larger game, like deer and mountain lions, that you didn't enjoy hunting. You were a small game hunter and only hunted what you knew you could utilize all of.
There were no tracks and no traces left behind. You'd checked.
The concept of leaving dead animals at one's door had to be an omen of some kind. If a human was doing it, it was bound to escalate from a warning or threat. But if it was another animal doing it… you shuddered to think what animal was large enough and had the intellect to constantly drag offerings to your door like a cat bringing dead mice and insects to their owners.
This was a problem you didn't disclose to Felix. You had a lingering feeling that it was why the Hawkins couple so suddenly changed their minds.
But you did ask him if he'd heard anything about them recently.
“Really?” you voiced aloud, suppressing the amount of interest you had in their whereabouts. “Anyone know why?”
He shrugged. “Apparently they left a note at the door saying that there was a family emergency, and that they'd be gone a few days.”
Ah. Your shoulders visibly deflated, and you started picking at your breakfast. That meant they were likely just stressed about their family emergency.
(Then why didn't Mr. Hawkins just say that?)
Felix considered you from over the rim of his cup. “You seem relieved to hear that,” he noted.
“Yeah,” you let out a laugh that you hoped didn't sound as anxious as you were, “I just chatted with them the other day, and… haven't seen them since. You know how it's a small town.”
Your companion seemed to buy your statement and gave a nod. “Understandable. People seem to be disappearing at a moment's notice a lot these days.”
“Is that so?”
He lifted his shoulders half-heartedly. “What can you do, y'know? Don't stress too much, Yn. People up here can handle themselves.”
You pressed your lips together. “Even after your warning to me about wolves?” you couldn't help but ask.
Felix smiled around his last bite of pastry. “This town's thrived for so long already; the wolves are concerning, but someone must have it handled, I'm sure.”
Must. If no one else was freaking out about them constantly, then you didn't need to either, right?
Wrong, a voice echoed in your head. You lifted your cup to your lips.
With your free hand, you reached back to hold the nape of your neck where the hairs had risen once again. Over the past few days, your body was constantly reacting as if there was something lurking behind you. You couldn't sit still, couldn't feel comfortable in your own skin.
One moment, it felt like ants crawling beneath your flesh; the next, it was as if someone was gently blowing their breath over you.
You weren't about to say you'd grown used to the feeling of being watched, but it was certainly becoming more frequent than you'd like it to be.
One might think that the constant stream of dead animals on your porch would make you lose your appetite for a hunt, but you hadn't gotten the chance to brush up on your skills since you arrived.
The name of the game was rabbit, and rabbits in winter were just as tricky to catch as rabbits in the summer.
Armed with a crossbow and quiver of arrows, you staked yourself up in a perch on a low-hanging tree branch. The evergreen was a welcomed respite from all the slim and frail-branched birches around you, and it provided you with adequate cover to wait for your prey to come.
Guns were usually the weapon of choice to go hunting—they were efficient and convenient in their execution and use. But you didn't often need a rifle to kill something as small as a rabbit; plus, it had been awhile since you'd last used crossbows and bows. They were efficient enough to reach their target when aimed correctly, as well as deliver a quick and painless death.
You didn't have much hope for a rabbit stumbling across your field of vision, but you hoarded a sliver of it still.
A bolt was already loaded up into the barrel of your crossbow. Having it primed would mean one less small noise to spook your flighty prey.
Somewhere in the distance, as you waited, a crow's caw echoed in the weak afternoon sunlight.
As the minutes ticked past, you remained ever vigilant and ever patient. You reasonably had about three hours left of daylight before you would consider heading back, so there you stayed.
It was nearing the one hour mark when you spotted it.
The rabbit was a grown adult, with light brown fur that looked almost like dirty, matted snow. It snaked through the snow-covered leaves, bouncing from tree to tree in search of vegetation that hadn't yet become food for the decomposers.
Nature drew it right to your doorstep.
There was a small patch of grass—weak, little tufts really—poking out of the snow several meters to your one o'clock. The rabbit sniffed the grass before nibbling its way down the stalks, each one disappearing faster than the last.
You brought the scope to level with your eye, finger curling around the trigger, but not yet pulling.
Once the rabbit's body was within the cross hairs—
SNAP!
You didn't flinch as badly as the rabbit, but your head nearly turned away from your target entirely.
The rabbit's head raised from the grass, no longer tempted to stay in this one place. You swore under your breath as it darted to the right, aiming to head deeper into the woods and farther away from you.
You moved the crossbow with its movements—and fired.
The bolt whizzed through the air.
And pinned the rabbit into the snow.
You could barely believe your aim had been true. If you hadn't let your instincts move your arm, you would've been going home empty-handed today.
Carefully, you dismounted the branch in the evergreen tree, eyes scanning your close surroundings. What in the world made that noise? No predator would have done such a thing, not when there was a rabbit so ripe for the taking in front of it.
You frowned after finding nothing and no one in the vicinity.
It wasn't like you imagined it; the rabbit reacted to the noise, as well.
You trudged over the snow to where the poor rabbit was staked against the ground, crimson staining the white beneath its body. It was definitely dead upon impact, you decided, while examining the entrance and protrusion of the bolt.
“Sorry, bunny,” you murmured under your breath, squatting down next to the body to begin preparing it to take back with you.
A few minutes later, you had the bunny strapped to your belt and a bloody bolt between two fingers.
You straightened, body turning in the direction of your cabin. A familiar wave of foreboding fell over you—the weight of eyes, of a phantom presence. The hairs on the back of your neck stood again and gooseflesh littered your skin despite the warmth of your hunting jacket.
As nonchalantly as possible, you made another scan of your surroundings.
It was so quiet, even the crows couldn't spare another caw. By all rational definitions and observations, you were alone. But if you had to ask the demon on your shoulder… It would be a different answer entirely.
three. they simply couldn't be helped
After the day you caught the rabbit, the bodies at your back door grew smaller.
It seemed that whoever (or whatever) was leaving you these… offerings had figured out your preference for smaller game. (You didn't want to admit how they would have discovered this. You certainly had not been alone in the woods that day.)
Nonetheless, you were sure half the reason this area was losing its wildlife population was because of whoever was doing this to you. And you didn't know how to fucking stop it.
You'd even gone and lined your entire property with a tripwire. If someone came by and triggered the alarm, you would know. Though, if there really was someone watching you, how effective would it be if they'd seen you set it all up?
This morning, you trekked about a mile into the woods to find a place to deposit the latest body—another rabbit—in a place where some other animal could have it. If you weren't going to make use of it, the best thing to do was to give it back to nature and let the circle of life run its due course. About a mile in would give some berth between them and your cabin; plus, you usually didn't venture in this area of the forest.
On your way back, you were stopped by the ceaseless sounds of shrill chirping.
Your head swiveled to and fro in search of the noise. It was clearly the strained helping of a bird, but where…?
Down by a pile of snow, dirt, and mulch was a creature just about the size of your palm. It had a round, black-colored head and wings, and a white body that was matted with muck.
“Chicka-dee-dee-dee,” it tweeted up at you as you slowly and carefully crouched before it.
“I'm not a danger to you,” you assured it quietly, keeping your palms facing toward it. You wondered if it understood. Birds were intelligent creatures, and chickadees in particular were known to warn other birds of fast-approaching predators. They were the fire alarm in a building, except instead of blinding lights and high-pitched buzzing, it was a chorus of infamous chicka-dee-dee-dee's.
Your eyes narrowed on its body. It must have been grounded for some reason since they usually stash their burrows higher above the ground in evergreens.
The chickadee's round head cocked to the side, beady black eyes assessing your danger level.
With cupped hands, you reached out toward it.
When the bird didn't express any disapproval, you scooped its body into your palms. “Huh,” you hummed to yourself, spotting a difference between its wings. One was far more crooked than the other. “I think I can help you with that, bud.”
You stepped over the mulch and a protruding tree root, keeping your bird friend cupped in your palms. “This isn't kidnapping, by the way,” you said aloud. “Imagine me as the Emergency Medical Services for birds. We're on our way to the infirmary—my house.”
The bird made a peep sound in reply.
The cabin appeared not far ahead; the air fogged up with your sigh. You lifted your foot so as to not hit the tripwire. “I don't know why I'm talking to you either.”
The back cabin door closed behind you and it took eleven seconds for the locks to click into place on the other side: shunk—that was one; clink—marked two; schick—there was the third.
“The wolf” always counted.
The only reason it took you so long this time was because of the hitchhiker you'd carried right into the warmth of your home. Who knew it would be the most annoying sound in nature to be granted entrance first? It was… infuriating. And yet, enlightening.
A shadow lingered upon the edge of the wood, sinking behind the large trunk of an evergreen. “The wolf” kept one eye pinned to your disappearing and reappearing form in the back window. In one morning, you had taken yet another of his offerings, left it in the forest for some other undeserving creature to feast upon, and took in an injured, living body to aid.
How interesting. “The wolf” finally understood.
For a moment, he could not leave the sight of you. He could not bear to leave your vicinity, to part with the familiar scent of your musk and blood for long. But the thrill beating in his chest—the wild excitement of finally understanding—was a lure strong enough to tear him away. It was all for you, after all. Everything, ultimately, was because of you.
He was careful not to nick the tripwire on his way out.
The forest was deadly quiet as he stalked through the trees. Silent, but never empty. The woodland, even in winter, was stocked full of birds to choose from.
If you wanted one, he could retrieve for you a set. Didn't humans collect dolls?
Once he picked the bird to pluck from its nest, all they would see would be a blur of teeth and wild eyes.
And all that the rest of the forest would hear were the screeches of birds and a sickening crunch.
If birds made noise when danger was abound, so too did people. The town buzzed with an energy akin to the particles of water in a tea kettle as it boiled. You could hear their chatter and gasps and murmurs even through the windows of your car. Everyone milled around in groups no smaller than three, eyes darting from one another.
Despite the commotion, their faces were solemn. There was a distinct weight that had fallen over the town. Something serious must have happened overnight or this morning.
You parked your car along the curb by the town pharmacy and clinic. In the distance, you spied Felix's bright, wheat-colored hair amongst the frenzy. It was the first time you'd ever seen his face lacking a smile, his lips pulled into a flat line and his brows scrunched in a concerned furrow.
“Felix!” you called to him as you made your way over.
He and the older man he was speaking to glanced up in your direction. Recognition sparked in his eyes and he waved at you, beckoning you to join them. “Yn,” he greeted, “boy, am I glad to see you. Did you hear?”
You shook your head, speeding up into a jog to reach them. “No, I didn't hear,” you said. “What's going on? Did something happen?”
You recalled the name of the man whom Felix was with—Mr. Ly, one of the town's teachers at the nearby grade school. He folded his arms over his chest, sighing. “Something happened, alright,” he murmured. “It was a terrible tragedy. Do you know the Hawkins family?”
“The Hawkins's? Yeah, I… I do.” What in the world happened to them?”
You met Felix's eyes, and his expression softened. “We were just talking about them the other day, Mr. Ly,” said Felix. “But Yn—somebody found their bodies this morning.”
You blinked, heart stopping clean in your chest for a second. “What?” Bodies. That meant they were dead.
“Jay Raiden, one of their friends,” Mr. Ly explained, “went over to their house to borrow their toolbox from their garage, 'cause he's got a key. You heard about the note they left, right? About their family emergency? Well, both of their cars were still in the garage.”
“They never left,” you filled in aloud, lifting a hand to cover your mouth in shock. “Oh my god.”
“Jay went 'round back and saw dried blood through one of the windows. He called the sheriff—they broke in and…” Mr. Ly's voice trailed off as he rubbed his face with his hand, distraught. He sighed again, fingers pressing into the corner of his eye. “They think it was some wild animal attack.”
“One of the new wolves,” Felix added.
So the rogue wolves really were a danger to the town. You were right to have harbored some worry about them.
But Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins… You gagged a little at the mental image of what exactly Jay and the sheriff walked in on. Perhaps, had Mr. Hawkins sounded so stressed during his phone call with you because they saw wolves outside their house? That would explain the growling sound you believed to have heard.
Why wouldn't he just say that then? Why wouldn't he tell you to get them help? They never gave you the impression of being too arrogant for their own good.
A hand warmed the place between your shoulder blades and you leaned your forehead against Felix's shoulder. Your eyes fluttered shut. “I feel so awful for them,” you said quietly.
Felix wrapped his arm around you in a small hug, squeezing your arm as he did so. “Yeah, me too.”
“We all just need to be a little more careful.” Mr. Ly thumped his hands onto your shoulder and Felix's shoulder. “Look out for each other, and keep your radios on. I think the sheriff's gonna start up a volunteer watch group.”
“Should've started one a while ago,” you muttered.
Mr. Ly gave a helpless shrug, though he seemed like he agreed with your statement. “Take care of yourselves, you two.”
“See you, Mr. Ly,” you and Felix said as he made his departure down the street.
And then there were two. You and Felix lingered there for a moment in a rare bubble of quiet. All around you, the machinations of small town word-of-mouth ran like the motor on a speedboat. The news was a wildfire and this place might as well have been kindling.
Felix was the one to break the silence. He gently nudged you with his fist. “Hey, you got a radio?”
“A radio?” you echoed.
“Yeah,” he chirped, “like one of those ham radios.” He gasped, snapping his fingers as the thought came to him. “You still got a walkie talkie?”
Your eyebrows flew up. “Do I?” You gestured for him to follow you back over to your car. Despite the grim atmosphere, the simple mention of walkie talkies brought back even a sliver of lightness to the air.
You opened the passenger side door of your SUV, popping open the glove compartment beneath the front console. You dug around for a moment and rifled past all of the motor vehicle papers and registration until—
“Aha!”
You emerged from the car with a pair of walkie talkies, brandishing them with the pride of your seven year old self.
Felix's face brightened immediately. “No way,” he gasped.
“Yours, my friend,” you said, extending one to him.
He accepted it swiftly. “You're a blessing.”
You snorted. “You're welcome.” You fiddled around with the walkie talkie you kept for yourself, thanking the energy gods that the batteries in this thing still had juice.
Felix shifted beside you and the two of you bowed your heads, hunching over in a miniature conspiracy huddle together. “What channel are you configuring it to?”
“They should be configured to one another. I haven't exactly used them in—”
Your words were cut off with the sound of a hissing click and chime.
“Well,” you laughed, “there you have it.” You kept your finger pressed against the 'Talk’ button on the side. “Testing, one, two. Testing, one, two. Do you copy, Felix? Over.”
Chk-chk. “Loud and clear,” you heard from beside you and faintly through the device in your hand. Felix grinned. “Over.”
He lifted his thumb from the button. “This is sick,” he marveled. “I forgot how cool these were.”
“Cool and useful,” you chimed in while hooking the device onto a belt loop. “They should be able to span across several miles.” In an emergency, and when phone lines were down, they could save a life.
Felix expressed his thanks to you as you locked up your car again, and the two of you headed back onto the sidewalk and into the pharmacy. The warmth from the radiator in the corner of the room hit you in a hot wave to the face, nearly making you fumble backward.
You could already feel the sweat begin to bead on your forehead.
“So what did you need from here?” he asked as he trailed behind you, a chick following a mother hen; his eyes were wide as he peered at all the same things you did on the shelves. “Are you restocking your first aid or something?”
“No, not exactly,” you drawled distractedly. You scanned the items in front of you before picking up a roll of gauze to examine. “It's kind of a weird story, really.”
“Can't be that weird.”
You cocked a brow at him, then returned to scrutinizing the label on the gauze. “I need something biodegradable. Y'know, I found a chickadee in the woods this morning—it’s wing was broken. I brought it back to my cabin to make it a little sling, but I realized it would need something more suitable when I eventually let it go.”
Felix lifted his shoulder up as he nodded. “Oh. That makes sense. What's so weird about that?”
For a moment, you hadn't remembered Felix had no idea about why you'd been out in the woods this morning in the first place. That was the truly strange part. “Can I,” you said to him softly, biting your lip and glancing around to ensure no one was nearby, “tell you something?”
His brows scrunched together. “Yeah, of course,” he replied with a nod. Concern twisted his features as he took a step closer, angling his body slightly so you could speak into his ear and he could keep one eye on the lookout. “What's going on?”
“There's been some… things happening.”
“Yn, what things?”
There truly was no easy way to say it, was there? “I think I'm being stalked—or something.”
Alarm flickered across his face, his eyes widening. “You what?”
“Shhh!” You patted his arm with one hand and fisted the roll of gauze with the other. “I'm not sure, but there are signs. I don't know if it's human or an animal.”
“Yn, we both know it's not an animal,” he scoffed. “This is crazy; you wouldn't say it if you weren't sure.”
You licked your lips, pushing out a breath of frustration. “It's just that—everywhere I go, I have this weird feeling. You know that feeling when someone's staring at you, even when you're not looking?”
He nodded.
“And then…”
Felix cocked his brow expectantly. “And then, what? Yn, please tell me. Tell me so I can help.”
You absentmindedly picked at the roll in your hands. “For the past several days, something has been leaving dead animals at my door—freshly killed, and lying on a bed of snow like they were trying to preserve them or something. I don't know. It sounds ridiculous—”
“No, Yn, that sounds terrifying.” Felix placed his hands on your shoulders, keeping your attention on him. You weren't about to escape this talk. “When did this start? Have you reported it to Sheriff Lang?”
“The first time was the day I told you I spoke to the Hawkins couple. They actually were the ones who moved the deer carcass for me.” You added, “And no, I haven't told Sheriff Lang yet.”
Felix swore under his breath, a hand on his hip. “Well, shoot. You have to tell him, especially if you're being stalked and you're being threatened.”
“I just” —you slowly began moving to the other end of the aisle— “don't know, Felix. There's something else.”
“What is it?” he asked, clinging to your heels as you scanned the shelves for some extra cotton balls and medical tape.
You grabbed the items and scooped them into the crook of your arm, against your chest. “The bodies so far had been larger game, like deer and mountain lions; but the other day, I went out and killed a rabbit. It was the first time I'd gone out hunting since I got here. The next day, instead of deer or cougars or goats, it was another rabbit.”
Felix pinched the space between his eyes. “Wait a second,” he said, “so what are you trying to say here?”
“I’m saying that it isn't cut and dry.” You waved your hands in the air, uncertain of what to think or how to articulate your thoughts. “These bodies left at my door weren't eaten or torn to shreds or anything. They were mostly killed by blood loss.”
“Puncture wounds? Knife marks?”
Oh, he was going to hate this. “More like… claw marks?”
Felix lifted a hand and let it fall against his leg. “You're shitting me.”
“I could be wrong.”
“I'm going to hope you're wrong.” He pursed his lips, the sides of his mouth digging into his cheeks. “I don't want to say it has to do with our wolf problem.”
You shot him a pointed look, turning to head to the register. “But you will.”
“Well, what else am I supposed to think, Yn? You said claw marks.”
At the cash register, you and Felix both mutually agreed (through eye contact) to not mention anything about your issue around the pharmacist ringing up your total. Pleasantries were exchanged, bills were given up, and your items were bundled in a cozy, little paper bag in no time.
Felix fell into step with you on your way out of the pharmacy, piping up, “So what? Do you think these are some kind of twisted offering?”
“I don't know what to think, Lix,” you admitted.
He jammed his tongue in his cheek, his stare pensive. “Well then, what do you say if I came up to make sure your cabin was properly locked up? Maybe I can see if there are tracks left around. Did they leave anything behind today?”
You nodded. “They did, but I brought it back out to the woods. And, would you? I would really appreciate that,” you told him, glancing over while you reached for the door blindly. “I think a second pair of eyes is exactly what I—”
You felt the door's swing come to a stop, its surface reverberating as it hit something solid. You glanced up, only to find Wooyoung standing there, mouth pressed shut and eyes screwed tight in a wince with his hand grabbing the edge of the door.
“Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” you blurted out. “I wasn't looking.”
He let out a small chuckle, lifting his hand off the door to show you his palms like it was okay. The movement, however, drew your eyes to the crimson red blooming beneath the thin material of his overshirt sleeve. “You're fine, Yn, really. I—”
“Are you alright?” you asked.
“Hm? Oh,” he said sheepishly, grabbing his forearm with his opposite hand. “This?”
Felix sucked in a breath through his teeth as he watched the blood seep through. “Man, that looks pretty bad. You should get that checked out.”
Wooyoung didn't even pass Felix a glance. “Didn't really notice it until now, to be honest.”
“Well, maybe you should see the pharmacist about it,” you suggested, jabbing your thumb back in the direction from where you just came. “I'm sure they'd be glad to help you out.”
“No, it's okay,” he insisted. “Really, it's just a scratch.”
“Wooyoung,” you chided, “it's going to get infected or something. It's already ruining your shirt!”
He smiled. “I appreciate your concern, Yn.”
Felix gave you a nudge with his elbow, and Wooyoung's eyes whipped over to him. “Don't you have a first aid kit in your car, Yn?”
It was like a lightbulb had gone off behind your eyes. “Oh! Oh, you're so right!” You turned to Wooyoung, fixing him with a firm look. “You're coming back to my car. If you're not gonna see the doctor, you'll at least see me.”
“See you?”
You sniffed. “I know first aid,” you defended. “Come, come. I won't take no for an answer.”
With a flick of two fingers, you beckoned him to follow. The three of you trudged across the snow-covered sidewalk, peppered with shoe-prints, toward your car parked nearby. You popped open the passenger side door once more, leaning in to dig through the middle console for the first aid kit you kept stashed there. The kit had served you well plenty of times before, even while you were living at home in the city.
You stepped down from your SUV and gestured for Wooyoung to roll up the respective sleeve. Felix lingered by, his hip and shoulder leaning against the car door for the back seats.
“Ah,” you grunted as you took his arm by his elbow to inspect the gash there.
The smooth, pale skin there on the underside of his forearm was marred by a nasty scrape that cut through skin. It likely formed on accident as there were differing levels of depth to the wound—one area was far shallower, with only the top layer of skin disturbed and peeled up; whereas the other, deeper portion looked to be where all the blood had gurgled out from.
It was strange, though. For all the blood you saw seeping through, there wasn't a whole lot of it now. In fact, the wound looked as if it was already healing over.
“How's it look, Doc?” Wooyoung asked, peering at you through his lashes, tongue wetting his lips.
You glanced at him, then twisted around to crack open your first aid kit. “You're lucky it's just a surface wound,” you told him. You ripped open a packet for an antiseptic wipe. “This might sting a little.”
You gently pressed the wipe to the cut, cleaning up as much of the exposed wound as possible. You heard the tiniest hiss from his mouth and murmured an apology.
As you worked, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to one of the other times you'd bumped into Wooyoung. “Was this from a hunting trip?” you asked him. “I feel like I'm always seeing blood on you.”
“You could say that,” he said.
“Do you go out hunting a lot, Wooyoung?” Felix chimed in.
Wooyoung's eyes darted to your friend, then to you, and finally back to Felix. “Yeah.”
“I hope you're careful out there then. You've heard about the Hawkins couple, haven't you?”
Wooyoung stared at you, but you kept your eyes on his arm, carefully placing the stitch bandages over the gash. “I haven't,” he drawled. “Who are they, again?”
You raised your head to share a look with Felix. “They were found dead in their home this morning,” you told him. You reached behind you to grab a roll of bandages from the kit and began wrapping up your handiwork. “Folks think it was a wolf attack.”
“Oh. Right.”
When you released his arm back to him, Wooyoung ran his thumb over the section of bandage that the scrape was hidden beneath. “Thank you.”
You shot him a small smile as you packed up the plastic kit box. “No problem,” you said. “I hope it heals over fast.”
“I'm sure it will.” He chuckled, “I feel like it's already halfway there.”
“You're a regular medical professional, Yn,” Felix joked. “I mean, first the bird, and now a person?”
Wooyoung's eyebrows flew upward. “A bird?”
You shot Felix a look, but couldn't help the sheepish grin on your face. “Yeah, I found a bird in the woods near my house earlier with a broken wing. I'm trying to fix up a sling for it while it heals.” Swiftly, you tossed the kit into the open middle console, wiping your hands over the surface of your jeans. “Speaking of, we should probably start heading out now. Felix?”
Felix pushed off the car. “Right! Should I meet you there?”
You paused in thought. “Maybe I can drive you?” you suggested. The last time someone offered to come inspect your property, it was the last time anyone ever saw them again. You massaged your lips together to calm your worries. “I'd be happy to drive you back to your car afterwards.”
“Sure, whatever you're most comfortable with.”
“He’s going with you to your cabin?” Wooyoung piped up. His face had become a rather unreadable slate, an unusual and uncanny state to find him in. At least, for you.
“He's, ah, helping me out with some cabin maintenance.” You stepped away from the passenger side door to make way for Felix to climb in. “I'll see you around, Wooyoung. Take care of yourself.”
“Yeah, see you, Yn.”
You jogged around to the other side of your car and clambered into your seat, your whole body shivering from the stagnant cold outside the door. Felix cranked up the heat as soon as you started the car up. It seemed you both had the same idea.
“So…” Felix dragged out the word, leaning the side of his head against his fist as he looked at you. There was an impish smile dancing on his face.
You pulled out of your parking space, eyeing him suspiciously. “What?”
“He seems… nice.”
You snorted. “Nice? That's all you can say?
He hummed, straightening out in his seat. “I mean, what else can I say? He didn't talk to me a whole lot. I'm pretty sure that man only thinks you exist.”
“Oh, please.” You'd noticed that Wooyoung was a little short with Felix, but you figured it might have been because he'd never met Felix before. Then again, your own memory contradicted that observation. The first time you met Wooyoung, he had been the one to initiate a proper conversation. He'd spoken freely and smoothly. “Maybe you give him a weird feeling.”
“Me?” your friend squawked in indignation, shooting up in his seat as if you'd shocked him with lightning. “Maybe he gives me a weird feeling!”
Your brows creased together and you casted him a brief look. “Does he?”
Felix sobered and scratched the place behind his ear. He blew a breath of air from his mouth. “Shoot, I don't know. He seemed to treat you alright, so I'm guessing he's not a raging misogynist.”
“We can only hope,” you joked.
You couldn't help but glance through your back windshield in the rearview mirror. Even from down the street, you could still see the sidewalk outside the pharmacy quite clearly. There were different shades of white and gray where tire tracks and bootprints cut through the snow. Townsfolk continued to mill about with the latest news and their own errands.
But again, Wooyoung had seemingly disappeared from the vicinity immediately.
The only thing you could do with your thoughts about him was to brush them under a mental rug. After all, you and Felix were heading to your cabin with an express purpose.
There was still a healthy amount of winter sun left in the sky as you pulled into your snow-covered driveway. The sounds of the car doors slamming reverberated off the facade of the cabin and the nearby trees; you and Felix trudged through the snow side by side, low murmurs exchanged between you about your plan of action while he was here.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins and I found the first deer here” —you motioned to your front door with the hand that wasn't holding your bag of fowl medical supplies— “and that was also the last time the bodies were brought to the front. Every other time since then has been on my back porch instead.”
Felix climbed the steps onto the front porch, eyes squinting as he considered it. “Huh,” he muttered. “You said the Hawkins's were the ones who moved the carcass for you?”
“Yep.”
He glanced back at you. “Maybe I'm reaching, but it could be that moving their offerings to the back ensures that less people see it.”
A chill spider-crawled down your spine. You nervously moved a strand of hair from your eyes as a breeze blew past. “I never even thought of it like that,” you stammered out.
Something troubled contorted your features as you stared at the floorboards of your porch. It wasn't like they were hurting you—yet. Whoever, or whatever, they were, their approach could change at any moment. Who cared if they changed their game from big to small based on your preference? It could have been that they had hunted all of the big game to the point of scarcity already.
“Your locks seem to work fine,” Felix said as he wiggled the front door knob. He shoved his shoulder and body weight into the door, the wood and metal holding firm against his force. “Hinges and door, too.” He scanned the doorframe, fingers running over the linings as if it had all the answers.
“What could all of this possibly mean?” you wondered aloud. “I mean, what did I do to provoke this kind of behavior? I just got into town.”
Felix frowned, eyes softening sympathetically. “It's not your fault. I don't believe it could've been anything you did on purpose. All of this—it’s sick, really. I'm telling you, Yn, you should just report this to the sheriff. He'll want to help you.”
Your gaze shifted from him to the forest on your left, then back to him. You knew he was being the voice of reason. There was a large part of you who knew that the sheriff needed to know about this. “Okay, yeah. You're right,” you relented at last. “When I drive you back into town, I'll let him know—”
Chicka-dee-dee-dee—chicka-dee-dee-dee—chicka-dee—
“What on god's green earth?” Felix mumbled, hopping down the stairs and tilting his head toward the sky.
The chirping rang a few bells in your head. “Why would the chickadee be alerting if it's…?”
You and Felix both froze. The realization came at once, your eyes meeting as it did—a mutual agreement passed between you, and the two of you crept back over to your car. You always left a small handgun in the glove compartment; you were licensed to carry, and you had been for over a decade now.
Felix was handed an emergency flare. It wasn't just to signal for help; used a certain way, it could be a weapon on its own.
Together, you both moved toward the back of the cabin, in the direction of the ceaseless chickadee calls. It couldn't have only been the chickadee inside your cabin, you realized. There had to be more out there. And they were seeing something that made them afraid.
As you rounded the structure, you held the pistol out in front of you, your finger steady on the trigger. The sound of your blood rushing thrashed wildly in your ears, your heart palpitating in your chest with every step you took. Whatever was out there, you would get to them before they got to you.
You kept your back to Felix and covered the woods. You weren't able to see his movements, but you could hear him and a mixture of bird calls somewhere behind you.
A beat passed. There was nothing in the forest that you could see. No sudden movements, no rustling branches.
“Uh, Yn?”
“Yeah?” you called back. When you cleared the woods for any immediate danger, you whirled backward and joined Felix on the back porch.
He stood stock-still over a section of it just beneath the back window sill. At his feet was the source of all the yelling.
There were three birds grounded on the floorboards of your porch—another chickadee, a robin, and a crow—all an assortment of horribly crooked, broken wings; all alive, but mutilated.
You couldn't decide if this was better… or so much worse.
four. don't you ever listen?
“Hit me.”
“The wolf” watched as one of his eldest brothers fixed him with a strange look. “You've said weird things before, but this is—”
There was not a single trace of mirth on his face. He opened up his limbs, spreading them away from his middle—an open target. “Make it look bad.”
His brother stood slowly from his seat. “This is about…”
“The wolf” nodded. He'd watched you and that damned human boy take those broken birds into your home. It was so easy. It was too easy. And it had been there the whole time. He was almost giddy at the prospect of finally crossing this threshold of your relationship. He'd observed, tested his theory, and was prepared to apply his findings.
“If you insist,” his brother murmured, head cocking to the side. His eyes narrowed into a predatory sharpness and weighed his options while examining the body before him. What would leave the worst impression?
“The wolf” watched as his brother reached over to his desk drawer and pulled out a pair of thick, leather gloves. “What are those for?”
His brother's response was to don the gloves before fishing out a pair of pure silver knuckles from deeper within the drawer. The accessories winked in the low lamp light. He grinned. “To make it last longer.”
“You should just come stay at my place, Yn. Your aunt and uncle's cabin is so isolated—it’s not safe at all,” Felix insisted over the phone line. It was something he'd been saying since the two of you left the sheriff's office earlier this evening. As planned, you and Felix went to report your escalating issue to the police, only to be told that because you had rid yourself of the dead bodies (evidence), they couldn't do anything.
Furthermore, the only other witnesses to any of the slayed animal carcasses were conveniently dead.
(Well, screw you then for cleaning up your own cabin. Birds didn't just break their wings en-masse either.)
You rubbed a hand down the side of your face as you sat hunched over your knees on the couch, the phone receiver pressed against your ear. “I would, Lix, trust me. But I don't want them to start showing up at your house, too.”
This evening was not one characterized by the fall of snow. There were only dark clouds shrouding the night sky, casting a rather ominous shadow over the community. You didn't particularly enjoy the way it aligned with everything happening.
“I don't really care about all that, Yn. I'm much more worried about your safety.” He let out a sigh, before saying, “Listen, we don't know what this guy's next move is. How would you feel if I came over and just slept on your couch?”
Your eyes went to the empty bedroom your aunt and uncle usually occupied. Now that you thought about it, it wouldn't be terrible to have another person over here with you. Maybe just for the night. “Alright, but you're sleeping in my aunt and uncle's room, and not on the couch.”
He laughed. “I’ll take it. In the morning, we'll finish putting out the rest of the traps like we planned. You've activated them, yeah?”
Your head dipped in a small nod. “They should be activated.” Absentmindedly, you glanced over to the birds you'd set up close to the back window sill. They were close enough to the hearth to feel the warmth of the fire, but far enough to not be burned. Felix had helped you put the birds’ wings into makeshift slings and casts; they all quieted down rather fast once within the safety of the cabin.
Any time you weren't taking care of the birds had gone toward setting up traps around the perimeter of your house. The tripwire could only warn you when someone was coming. At least traps might buy you more time.
“I remember turning on the front ones after you left, but I'm gonna go check on all of them, too,” you said and stood up from the couch, lifting the landline as you did to keep the phone cord from pulling.
“Maybe you should wait until I get there,” he suggested. “It’s quite dark out tonight.”
There was an impenetrable wall of dark blue-ish black outside your window. The only reason you could even make out the eerie silhouettes of the trees were because of the glow of your house lights. “Yeah,” you murmured in agreement. “Just knock when you get here, alright?”
“Sure. I'll just be ten or fifteen minutes while I pack some stuff.”
You nodded. “No problem. I have extra toiletries,” you replied. “Thanks again, Lix.”
His voice was warm even through the phone. “No need to thank me. See you soon!”
After reciprocating the goodbye, you reset the phone onto its dial and returned the entire machine to the couch's end table. The birds warbled and cooed amongst themselves, peering at you curiously through beaded eyes as you made your way over to the back window to stare out into the cold night.
Who knew this place that had filled your childhood for the holidays could become such a nightmare?
You folded your arms over your chest, jamming tongue into cheek. A single shot hunting rifle leaned against the opposite sofa, beneath the window sill. It was only several feet away from the back door—if you moved fast enough, you could arm yourself before an intruder could reach you.
As long as they came in through that door.
An abrupt shudder rippled down your spine. It was probably a good idea to get ready with a coat on for when Felix—
You stopped short as the small radio box on the end table lit up.
One of its bulbs had gone from a dull red to a bright maraschino cherry. Every fiber in your body went taut.
That was the tripwire.
Something had just set it off.
You launched yourself over to the other sofa, ducking behind it as you grabbed the rifle. The box of ammo was tucked just behind the leg of the sofa, and you sat up against it to load a bullet into the chamber.
Carefully, you peered over the ledge of the sofa and the window sill, out into the abyss of ice and darkness.
The tripwire wasn't too far out on this side of the house, but you weren't exactly sure which side had been triggered.
You swore you could hear the sound of a voice, muffled through the wooden infrastructure and glass. It carried like a human voice, one that sounded suspiciously like a cry for—
“Help! Help, someone please!”
You leapt to your feet. That was someone calling for help. And it was coming in this direction.
You craned your eyesight, pressing your nose against the cold glass in an attempt to better see into the woods.
Lo and behold, you could make out the shape of a man running for his goddamn life. It wasn't just any man—it was Wooyoung.
“Oh shit,” you swore, cocking the rifle as the shell casing fluttered onto the ground. You flew for the back door, ripping it open and letting the winter night swarm you.
Wooyoung was running, but his gait was unsteady, one arm wrapped around his middle as one leg went faster than the other. He kept glancing behind him, over his shoulder, running from something.
“Wooyoung! Wooyoung, keep running!” you shouted at him, raising the rifle up to prepare to aim at whatever was chasing him.
His wide eyes made contact with yours. “Don't shoot!”
What?
And there, emerging in the swell of darkness behind Wooyoung—as the man tumbled through the bramble of forest to your cabin—were a pair of eyes. They seemed to glow, even from deep in the confines of the woods, even in the moonless swath of night. Unforgiving, unforgettable.
They pierced into your memory and etched themselves there for eternity.
“Yn?”
Wooyoung's voice snapped you from your fearful stupor. He wasn't glancing back at the predator who had stopped chasing him; he was now gazing up at you on your porch, your rifle loose in your grip.
That was when you saw them—a whole lot of them. Wooyoung's once flawless skin was now blooming with dark purple splotches. There was a particularly nasty one beneath his right eye, one that busted his lip open, one swelling at his cheekbone. He still had an arm clutched around his stomach as he limped toward the steps.
“Oh my god,” you gasped, hurrying down to meet him. Your head whipped backward to see where the eyes had gone—only to be met with an empty forest. Your heart would not cease as you scooped Wooyoung's arm over your shoulder and helped him up.
The back door slammed shut behind the two of you, and you deposited him onto the closest couch before locking up the door. Your eyes darted feverishly between the window and Wooyoung; even after you yanked the curtains closed, you couldn't stop your eyes.
The birds were chirping and cawing and making a ruckus. You tried to put the noise to the back of your mind as you rested the rifle up against the sofa again.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” you asked Wooyoung, crouching before him as his body sank against the couch cushions. “What was that out there? Did that… did it…?” No, these injuries were not something an animal could do. These were…
A lump formed in your throat as you drew your eyes down his form. These were very human.
“It was just chasing me,” he rasped. He winced, reaching up to gently run a finger over his throat. There was purple there, too. “Smelled my blood. I think I got cut at some point. Gagh.” He tried to sit himself up, only to fall back onto the cushions.
You leaned forward swiftly, gently pushing his shoulder down to keep him there. “Don't move; it's gonna hurt more.” You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “I should call the clinic in town—”
“No!” He stammered to reply to the confused look you shot him. “I—I don't want any trouble. It's already bad enough that I ran onto your property, but if people found out that…” his voice trailed off, and you thought the wet gleam in his eyes was something wobbly like vulnerability.
“Wooyoung,” you said softly, settling yourself next to him on the couch. “Who did this to you?”
Behind you, the birds would not stop screeching.
Wooyoung pressed his lips together, eyes squeezing shut when he remembered his lip was busted. “It was—one of my brothers can get really aggressive when he drinks. It was just a bad night.” He was swift to add, peering up at you imploringly, “Don't tell anyone. Please. We're already outsiders around here, and I don't… I don't want any trouble.”
Your chest twisted violently at this news. It was a wonder that not many people knew him around town. He'd never seemed hurt before, but you should've known that he would have hidden it well. It would explain why he was so nonchalant about the scrape he got earlier today. The dressing was still there, dirty and unchanged. “I'm so sorry,” you murmured to him in earnest. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I just need a place to lay low for the night. I'll be out of your hair by morning, I promise.”
You shook your head. “You can stay until you're better, Wooyoung. I can't let you go back there in good conscience. Look at what he did to you.” Your eyes swept over his visible injuries again, your mind filling in the gaps. It didn't leave much to the imagination anyway.
He must have had to flee as soon as he could, because he wasn't even wearing an overshirt anymore. No, you definitely couldn't stomach sending him home in the morning.
“You're really too sweet.”
Your mouth pressed into a sad smile, hand warming his. “It's the least I can do. I do think that calling the town doctor would be best though. I don't know how to properly handle all of your injuries—”
His hand on your arm stopped you from moving. “I,” he said, “know how to treat them. I just need a little help.”
Oh. You wanted to give this guy a hug. “Of course,” you replied, shooting to your feet as you nodded. “I'll grab my medical supplies. You just wait right here.”
Just as you were about to go, you turned on the ball of your foot and went over to the birds in the corner. They turned their beady eyes and loud beaks toward you, hobbling around on unsteady feet. You fixed them with a stern look. “Guys, I need you to relax a little. Whatever's in the forest is gone now,” you said, scooping up the birds’ makeshift nest. “At least, I hope.”
You carried the birds out of the main room and left them in your bedroom, where they mercifully quieted down as you hustled to find all of your medical supplies.
Wooyoung was waiting patiently for you when you returned, head perking up when you came back into view.
“Okay, I hope all of these will be enough,” you said to him while rifling through the box. “I can get you an ice pack once we're done here, too.”
He nodded, screwing up his face in an attempt to sit up again. You were quick to lean over and guide his back into an upright position, arms curling around him without putting too much pressure anywhere. “Thank you,” he exhaled out. “I think my ribs are just bruised and my ankle’s a little twisted, so we can treat the other areas for now.”
He said it so calmly, it startled you.
“Right,” you stammered. You ripped open an antiseptic wipe and raised it up to his face. “Sorry, this is gonna sting like before.”
He didn't react as physically as he had earlier. He was quiet while you worked—hyper-focused even. You had to scoot closer to him on the couch, knees brushing as you did so, hand taking his chin to give you better access.
As you dabbed some ointment over his black eye, you found the little mole beneath his other eye again. His eyes were asymmetrical, you came to realize the longer you were focused solely on him.
“You have pretty eyes,” you muttered absentmindedly. Your fingers swiped over where his cheekbone was swollen with the ointment. It would hopefully lessen the swelling overnight.
There was a glint in his eyes, and the corners of his lips tilted upward. “Thanks,” he chuckled. “I don't usually get compliments on 'em.”
“Well, you should.”
Wooyoung's lips parted as if he was about to respond, but no sound came out. Instead, he sat still and the lift of his lips slipped off his face like melting snow on a mountainside. It was like he'd heard something, sensed something. There was a change in the air that you couldn't pick up on and he wasn't too pleased with it.
Moments later, a frenzied pounding rattled your front door.
You leapt out of your skin, hand jerking back from Wooyoung's split lip. “Christ.”
“Yn, it's Felix! Can you get the door? It's freezing out ‘ere!”
Your eyes shot open and you cursed. “How could I forget?” you whispered to yourself. The memory must have slipped your mind in all of that chaos. You set the used cotton pad on the lid of the box, standing up to get the door. “Don't worry, Wooyoung,” you said to him from over your shoulder, “Felix will be discreet about this. I invited him over earlier because I was… I was feeling anxious.”
You didn't hear if Wooyoung answered, but you thought you heard him grunt in acknowledgment.
After a quick peek through the peephole, your fingers deftly undid the locks on the front door. A shivering Felix bumbled in through the doorway, hands jammed into his pockets and face practically hidden in the collar of his jacket. His nose and cheekbones were already bitten red from the cold. As mentioned, he had a bag slung over his shoulder with anything he needed, as well as a hunting rifle that rivaled your own.
“Thanks,” he said with one, last violent shiver. “Sheesh, it's cold out. It wasn't even this cold earlier; I swear it's like a gust from the Arctic Circle just arrived.” Felix's smile turned into something confused as he lifted his gaze and made eye contact with Wooyoung on the couch. He instinctively took a step backward. “What a surprise—woah. Are you alright, man?”
You tugged at the collar of Felix's coat. “Here, give me this so I can hang it up.” Your eyes flickered between one man and the other, hesitating. “It's” —you bit your tongue— “complicated.”
“Ah.” Your friend didn't need you to say anything else.
You tucked Felix's coat into the closet by the door before returning to Wooyoung's side. His jaw was clenched, you noticed, and he was eyeing Felix with the resolve of a wounded animal—no, not a wounded animal. It was something far more calculating.
You didn't want to label it. “I know I said I'd give you my aunt and uncle's room, Lix, but I hope you'll understand if I let Wooyoung stay in there tonight.”
Felix nodded readily, lowering himself onto the couch across from you and setting his backpack on the floor by his feet. “Yeah, of course,” he said. “I completely understand.”
“I'm not intruding, am I?” were Wooyoung's first words since Felix arrived. He didn't need to physically gesture between you and Felix for you to understand.
“No, no,” Felix replied with a shake of his head. “Yn's been having some issues—well, I'm just concerned for her safety, is all. So I was going to at least stay the night.”
Wooyoung's eyes shifted back to you, a crease forming between his brows. “Are you in danger? Why would he be concerned for your safety?”
You licked your lip, sharing a glance with Felix. He only shrugged at you helplessly. This would be your decision, whether you wanted to tell Wooyoung about the troubles plaguing you recently. But there was a feeling prodding at the back of your mind.
It made you stop and think about it for a few moments longer. Maybe it wasn't something you should tell him, at least not tonight.
“It's nothing for you to worry about,” you reassured him. You stood and collected the medical supplies into their box. “I think you should get some rest now. Let me help you into my aunt and uncle's room.” You inclined your chin down a small hallway to your right. “It's just down that way.”
Wooyoung gladly let you sling his good arm over your shoulders again, and used you as a crutch to get down the hall. Every small movement was followed by a labored breath or a barely-audible hiss. It became a reminder of everything Wooyoung divulged to you earlier.
You helped him to settle onto the edge of the made-bed.
“I'll grab you the bandages and things so you can dress your ribs and leg,” you told him. You raised your pointer finger as a thought came to you. “Oh, and an ice pack or two. Are you sure I can't help you with any of your other injuries?”
Wooyoung smiled up at you, a sheepish, little thing. “You’ve already been so generous, Yn. I'll be okay.”
You nodded, then promised to be quick.
In a few minutes, you had set Wooyoung up with an abundance of supplies so he never had to get out of bed if he didn't have to. The bedside table was covered in an array of bandages, ointment, painkiller pills, and water. There were a couple bags of frozen vegetables there, as well, for him to prop under his ankle and to press against the bruises on his face.
You lingered in the room for a second, uncertain why you felt awkward in your own cabin. He kept his eyes on you most of the time without speaking as much. You chalked it up to his exhaustion.
“Well,” you drawled by the door, hand over the knob, “I'll just be down the hall if you need anything—and Felix is in the main room, too. I'm sure you'd like some alone time.”
“Wait.” He stopped you from closing the door completely. “Could you leave it open?”
You considered him again, tense shoulders softening. “Of course,” you said quietly. “Good night, Wooyoung.”
He shot you a smile. “Good night, Yn.”
You lifted your hand from the door and disappeared down the hallway, out of his sight. As you entered into the main room again, you found Felix lingering by the mantle, his gaze buried far within the burning embers in the hearth.
“Read any prophecies in there?” you murmured in jest, leaning against the opposite side of the mantle from him.
He spared a grin. “Very funny,” he said in his low voice. He cleared his throat, his expression suddenly sobering. “So what did I miss?”
You pursed your lips and glanced down the hall in the direction of Wooyoung's room. “He was running from home,” you told him. “He stepped on my tripwire and I was alerted to it. I thought it could've been something or someone else, but I heard him screaming out for help. When I looked out, I saw that he was being chased by something.”
Felix's brows twisted in concern. “Could you see it?”
“No.” You paused, then amended, “I saw a pair of eyes. My cabin lights must have reflected off them or something, because they looked like they were glowing.” You shook your head in disbelief. It must have been a trick of the light.
“Well, shit.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
Your friend carded a hand through his blond hair. “We’re both probably super tired and I don't think it's safe right now to go tend to the traps, even together. I'll just be vigilant.”
You sent him a look. “Don't lose sleep on my account, Felix.”
“That's why I'm here, isn't it? To make sure nothing happens.” He flashed you a grin that was far too upbeat for a situation like this. “And I can't exactly do that if I'm snoozing.”
He had a point, but it didn't mean you had to like it. You'd survived this long; you could survive one more night, right?
“Oh, by the way,” Felix piped up while clearing his throat, “where are the birds from earlier?”
The birds? “They're in my room. I had to move them there because they kept on alerting even when Wooyoung and I were safe in the cabin.”
A pensiveness possessed your counterpart's face. “Huh. They were able to sense danger even from all the way in here?”
You gave a half-hearted shrug of your shoulder, but nodded nonetheless. “They were going berserk. Y'know, they could probably see through the back window,” you said, inclining your chin in that direction. Felix followed your gaze. “He came from that direction anyway.”
There was a long beat of silence.
Felix's voice seemed to drop off a cliff in volume. “Yn, no one lives out there in that direction. It's just forest for miles and miles.”
That thought sank in.
“Are you sure he came from that direction?”
Your eyes flitted down the hall, then back to Felix. “I'm sure,” you whispered. “I know what I saw, and I know what he told me. He was running for his life, Felix—you saw the damage.” You flung your arm out in the direction of where you'd left Wooyoung; you wouldn't be able to unsee those bruises and the vulnerable sheen in his eyes ever.
He seemed hesitant to agree, but eventually, he bobbed his head. “Alright,” he relented. “It could make sense if he came from the direction of the road and got lost, then somehow ended up on this side.”
“Right,” you chimed in.
Even if your own brain was actively poking holes in this theory, there was still rationality to it.
Wooyoung was an experienced hunter and likely knew a lot of the woods around his home, but it was dark and he was in distress. Humans weren't known for their ability to move in straight lines, and that wasn't about to change while they were running for their lives.
(Felix's hesitation nestled itself deep in your brain, though. After what you knew about Wooyoung, you wanted to believe him. It could have just been fate that brought him to your door.)
You kept your gaze on the floor, arms folded loosely across your chest. “Why does this kind of feel like I've been offered another sacrificial lamb?” you thought aloud. It was a morbid kind of musing, but in times like these… One of your hands came up to unconsciously rub the nape of your neck. Why were your hairs standing on end?
Felix's mouth was set in a line. “Maybe the pattern you think you see actually is a pattern.”
The hearth was ash and the main room was dark when “the wolf” emerged. It had been a few hours since the fire died out and the human boy fell asleep. One did not need supernatural hearing to know that his breathing had fallen into a shallow, steady rhythm characteristic of sleep.
While the entire cabin slept, including you and the birds in your bedroom, “the wolf” remained awake.
The silver pill he'd swallowed down earlier had been a nightmare to deal with. As it ran its course through his bloodstream, he'd been practically chained to that bed, sweat matting the hair against his forehead and dripping down to the mattress beneath him.
The room he was given smelled only slightly like you. It was enough to drive him mad, having you only a thin wall away when you were so close to him earlier. He could recall the smell of your skin, the shared space of your intermingling breaths. Your compliment of his eyes rang clear as bells in his ears.
It almost drowned out the deafening rage that accompanied the conversation that you and the human boy shared.
Felix was his name, wasn't it?
Despite “the wolf's” success, it shattered as soon as Felix arrived.
“The wolf” could move without disturbing even the dust in the air. It was an important skill for hunting. He loomed over the back of the couch that cradled the sleeping human—your so-called guardian.
How pathetic.
He wrestled down the growl trapped in his throat. The root of his problems now manifested in this creature. “The wolf” glared down at Felix's sleeping form, watching his nose twitch.
Wolves eat chickens, “the wolf” mused lightly to himself.
He gripped onto the backing of the couch to steady himself as a wave of silver-induced nausea swept through him. The silver kept his natural regeneration and strength from kicking in. He knew you weren't yet ready for his true identity and purpose, but once you understood all that he had done for you, it wouldn't be hard to convince you he was your perfect match. That he was your perfect mate.
When the nausea passed, he considered the human beneath him in a slightly new light. Tonight would be the last time Felix would ever come between the two of you.
If there was anything good to come from this situation, it was putting a human in his place.
five. what was never just a wolf
You decided that Wooyoung was to remain at your cabin until he fully recovered. Even after sleeping on what you and Felix discussed, it didn't change your immense sympathy for the man. How could one forget horrible things that have happened, especially when they were so blatant?
The next morning, you fixed up a quick breakfast for the household before getting dressed to head out. Felix was also up-and-at-em, blinking the sleep away as he stood over the coffee pot to pour himself something bitter and dark. He did end up falling asleep last night; you didn't blame him, and all three of you were perfectly fine.
Whether the perpetrator had left something at your door yet though would be another thing to check for.
You announced your arrival to Wooyoung with a light knock on the doorframe.
He was seated upright in bed—not for lack of struggle, of course—a mug of piping hot coffee cradled in his hands. He peered up at you quietly, and in the morning light, he almost seemed docile. The coloring on his face and neck were still angry purples, but the swelling was nowhere near as bad as it was last night.
“Hey,” you greeted him quietly with a small smile.
He reciprocated the expression, nodding his head. “Hey. Thanks for the breakfast and for letting me stay.”
“No worries.” You stepped into the room and looked for where he'd put the box of medical supplies. It was left in the corner of the room closest to you, on the far side of the nightstand. Huh. It was a rather inconvenient place to have it if he couldn't move very well.
You picked it up by the corner and brought it with you to the bed. Settling on the edge, you said to him, “Could I help clean and redress anything before I head out?”
Something flickered across his face. “You're leaving?”
“Only for a couple hours,” you assured him. “Felix and I were going to put out some traps, but we'll be as quick as we can, and we'll be close by.” You examined the injuries on his face more now that you were closer. “The bruises look a bit better,” you said. “The swelling went down a lot last night, which is good.”
“They just needed some tender love and care,” he chuckled.
You let out a small laugh. “More like a good night's sleep,” you mused.
There was something needling at the back of your head. You were forgetting something.
“Oh!” You snapped your fingers together as it came back to you. “I have an extra radio to give you. You can use it if you need to get in contact with me.”
With hurried steps, you shot out of the room and down the hall, nearly sliding into Felix as you did so.
This morning when you and Felix finalized your plan, you'd dug out an extra walkie talkie from your aunt and uncle's electronics box. It worked well after you plugged in a fresh pair of batteries. At least with the radio, Wooyoung could still have a way of getting in touch with you if the phone lines were down.
“Ready to go yet?” Felix asked just before you turned on your heel.
“Yeah! Just a sec.”
You returned to Wooyoung's room with the walkie talkie in hand, and extended the device to him. “Here you go. Have you used one of these before?”
Wooyoung set his coffee down and fiddled with the switches. “Once or twice.”
“It's pretty easy once you get the hang of it,” you said. You tapped your finger against the side of the device. “This is the talk button; hold down on it while you talk, but you have to release it in order to hear the other people on the line. The volume buttons are here—then this is the dial to change the frequency, but it should already be in tune with mine and Felix's.”
He glanced up at the latter mention. “It contacts both of you?”
You nodded, propping your hands on your hips. “We're all on the same frequency; it's just easier that way.”
“Oh,” he replied, attention wandering back to the walkie talkie as he bobbed his head in understanding.
“Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do for you before we go?”
Wooyoung met your eyes once more. “No, thanks. Stay warm out there.”
“I'll try,” you chuckled. Satisfied, you left Wooyoung to his devices and went to get Felix.
Bundled up in a warm hunter's jacket, scarf and gloves, you led Felix out to the garage where you'd stashed all of the leftover traps that hadn't been put out yet. Your aunt and uncle liked to use the garage as a miniature workshop, fitted with conventional tools and all of their ammo and weaponry. You slung a crossbow and quiver over your shoulder, and attached an ax to your belt. The cabin was in desperate need of firewood.
Felix equipped himself with his hunting rifle and fresh ammo, then grabbed the box of traps to rig. Both of you brought along your respective walkie talkies; the forest was much less intimidating in soft sunlight, and splitting up to get the job done faster was an enticing endeavor.
As you made the trek through the fresh snow toward the back of the house, you lifted your gaze far out in the direction you'd seen the glowing eyes last night. From your position, the only thing that could be seen were miles upon miles of trees.
“Hey, look” —Felix inclined his chin toward the back porch— “it's empty.”
You followed his gaze, and sure enough, there were no dead animals, and no injured ones either. You released a breath. “I don't wanna get too excited,” you murmured back in response, “they've been delivered later in the day before.”
Felix frowned. “Oh.”
“I appreciate it though.” You nudged his side with your elbow. Truly, you needed some optimism at this point.
You resumed the walk into the woods, stepping over invisible lines and checking that the traps you'd set last night hadn't been triggered.
They were all untouched, it seemed.
“He ran from this way,” you said suddenly, raising your arm in alignment with the path you remembered Wooyoung had run. “There aren't any tracks—it must have snowed sometime last night.”
Felix hummed. “Interesting. There really aren't any properties out that way, Yn, at least that I know of.”
You weren't quite sure what to do with that information. It could've still been as you hypothesized last night: Wooyoung had veered off course due to his own human nature and fear.
At this point in your hike, Felix set down the box of traps to pick out a couple to set up in this area. You were going to take the few left in the box out north; once you'd emptied the box, you could at least use it to collect small pieces of firewood.
“Radio me if you need anything!” you called to him over your shoulder as you departed.
He waved to you with a sunny grin. “And if I need to bother you?”
You only laughed in response.
Snow crunched beneath the soles of your heavy boots, leaving footprints in the hills of white. Though it was rather quiet out here, the sound of birds trilling and chirping echoed from nearby. You'd nearly forgotten why you were out rigging traps around your property.
For the first time in weeks, the peace you felt while being in these woods returned.
A sigh flew from your mouth in visible smoke. This situation was taking too much out of you. Any ounce of relaxation seeped out of your body, replacing itself with skittishness and anxiety.
You were waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But it never seemed to come.
Half an hour later, you were crouched by the base of a tree about a mile out from the spot you originated from.
Three down, one to go, you thought to yourself as you straightened from your position. The knees of your pants were cold with a wet spot from the snow, and you brushed any remaining bits off your clothes.
You brushed a bead of sweat from your forehand with the back of your hand. Once you were done with this last one, you could start making your way back in Felix's direction.
Chrr-click!
“Shit.” You definitely skipped a heartbeat there. You snatched the walkie talkie from your waistband just as Felix's voice travelled through.
“Hey Yn, I just finished my set. Over.”
You lifted the radio to your mouth. “I'm almost done, too. Over.”
“I might head for a walk in the direction you were interested in. I probably won't walk for long, but if I do end up being gone longer, I'll radio you.”
The direction you were interested in? Right, Felix knew that Wooyoung was on this line, too. The organ in your chest gave a kick. Why did this feel treacherous? “Copy that,” you replied. “Let me know if you see anything, Lix. Just be careful. Over.”
The device clicked once more with Felix telling you the same before you were hooking the walkie talkie back into place.
You finished rigging the last trap in a couple minutes, and soon, you were hiking back in the direction of the cabin in search of firewood. There was a part of you that wondered if you should check on Wooyoung. But the other part of you didn't wish to bother him.
He was fine, you assured yourself. He was probably asleep—sleep was good for his injuries, after all. It was best not to disturb him.
The walkie talkie chirped again.
“Yn, where are you?”
You felt your brows twist together in confusion as you yanked the device up to your mouth. “Headed your way. How far out are you? Also, why—’s something wrong? Over.”
Felix's breath came through in light pants as if he had been jogging. You could hear the awe in his voice. “No, nothing's wrong, per se. I just didn't realise there was a lake out here. Did you know there was a lake out here? Over!”
In your memories somewhere, you fished out the vague scene of a body of water, frozen over. There had been a couple of boating accidents in the spring following your first and only trip out there—your parents were far too worried to let your aunt and uncle take you there ever again.
You'd completely forgotten about it.
A skip in your step launched you in that direction with giddy speed. “It slipped my mind,” you admitted. “But I think I know where it is. I'll meet you there—over.”
“Roger that. You know, it's strange.”
“What's strange?”
“I get that feeling you described before—that someone's watching you.” You heard him chuckle again. “It's kind of un—”
The line broke so abruptly, you nearly skidded to a halt.
Your eyes went wide as you smashed the “talk” button. “Felix? Felix, do you read me?”
No answer.
“Felix. Felix, are you still there?”
Panic began to rocket up your throat with every passing moment of radio silence. You dropped the box in your hands and took off in the direction of the lake.
You grabbed the axe at your side and ran with it gripped tightly in your hand, letting its heft launch you forward. Blood thundered in your ears as you bolted through the forest. Even with the snow a couple inches deep, you had to keep your feet moving, had to get there fast. Every single bad scenario in your mind projected itself before you like a Nightmare's Greatest Hits marathon.
The crossbow at your back clattered with its weight, and you stripped it off without a single thought. It was one less thing to weigh you down.
You tried the radio again, its chirping an empty sound next to your ragged breaths. “FELIX! Felix, answer me!”
With each silent second that passed, your heart dropped further into your stomach.
At last, the wide, frozen body of the lake appeared through the curtain of trees. It was a solid gray mass lying still in the winter landscape. Just looking at it made a cold chill pinball down your spine.
You skidded down the embankment, eyes widening and noting the other pair of tracks that led to the edge of the lake.
But the blood was something you could not miss.
Scarlet stained the white snow by the frozen shoreline where Felix's footprints ended. Drops of blood trailed out onto the middle of the lake before disappearing completely. Like he'd been snatched straight out of reality.
“Felix!” your voice carried across the lake. Your head swiveled in search of any life. Not even his hunting rifle was visible.
Fear coursed through you, pure and unfiltered.
Where had he gone? There weren't any other footprints here, so what happened?
Your lungs scorched as you cupped your hands around your mouth and screamed, “FELIX!”
Something banged up against the ice—beneath you.
Your feet jolted into action as a blurry mass hit against the ice again. It was… it was a hand.
“Oh my god,” you croaked. “Oh my god!”
Felix's blond hair fluttered out around his head as his face contorted in an inaudible scream. Bubbles flew from his mouth, hand banging up against the ice. His eyes were wide, movements frenzied.
“Felix, oh fuck,” you cried. You lifted the axe in your hands over your head. “Fuck—just hold on!”
The axe crashed down against the ice.
Hit after hit after hit—seconds passed. Then a minute.
Tears streamed down your face now, your hands sweaty and raw from your axing. Shards of splintered ice flew into the air, some slicing into your flesh to leave angry, bloody gashes in their wake.
But the ice was too thick, your axe far too weak. The dent you'd formed wasn't enough.
Felix's hand continued to bang up against the ice. You kept your own eyes pinned to his pleading expression, features contorted as if he was crying.
You could save him you could save him you could save him YOU COULD SAVE HIM—
His eyes rolled back.
A cry slipped from your throat, raw and guttural. Adrenaline bullied its way through your system as you brought the axe down like a strike of lightning.
He choked on a lung full of water.
(Fear, you knew. Fear would be the last thing he felt, and you would be the last thing he saw.)
“No!” Your vision watered as his hand fell away from the ice. “Nononono—”
The axe clattered to the frozen lake, and pain shot up your legs as your knees slammed against the ice beneath you. You pummeled your fist against it in a delusional attempt to keep fighting.
You kept punching, scraping, clawing at it until your knuckles were split open, until your nail beds tore, until your blood spilled over the ice to join the last bits of life Felix left.
The reality of it wasn't just hitting—it slammed into you. Your entire body trembled as you hunched over the pathetic divot you made in the ice.
All of your energy was spent; and yet, in the back of your mind, you could feel that someone else was there.
But it didn't matter.
You couldn't save him.
They said it was a freak accident.
You thought different—knew different. The last remnants of Felix's voice echoed in your ears like a goddamn church bell; every time you closed your fucking eyes, he was there, banging up against the ice, scared.
He didn't deserve to die scared. He didn't deserve to die.
There was a hole in the ice found on the surface of the frozen lake. His walkie talkie and hunting rifle were abandoned in nearby shrubbery. No one could tell you what really happened.
Your eyes stared into the fire flickering in your hearth, but you weren't truly looking. Anything to not feel the chill of the ice between your fingertips anymore.
What are his parents going to say? you wondered horribly. You wondered if they would blame you—in a way, you hoped they did. You would, too. After all, the whole reason he was remotely close to that lake was because of you.
“Can't sleep again?”
Your entire body jerked.
And then there was Wooyoung.
Something had shifted, not only in you, but in your newest house guest, after Felix's death. You didn't want to confront it, but when it didn't dissipate after the first day, you weren't sure what to think.
His mood was… lifted. Easygoing. His ankle healed magically, and he could walk around the house without limping. There was constant energy behind his facial features—no solemnity or dread. He didn't mention Felix, never uttered his name.
You liked to believe it was out of respect for you, but deep in your chest, you could feel the vine begin to tighten.
“No,” you rasped, clearing your throat of the hoarseness trapped there. You brushed your hair out of your face as you turned back to the fire, letting its warmth curl over you.
You felt the couch dip beside you. “I'm sorry to hear that.”
The two of you sat by the crackling fire with nothing to say. Your hands, wrapped up in your own biodegradable bandages, clasped one another in your lap, willing the trembling to go away.
“Can I tell you a story? To help you fall asleep?”
His words drew your attention back to him. They were the first normal sign of human comfort he'd exhibited thus far, but when you looked at him, the firelight reflecting across his face was far from comforting.
You decided it was something about his eyes. Beautiful, but terrifyingly sharp. It wasn't that beautiful things weren't allowed to hurt, but there was a glint in his irises that scraped at your skin.
He took your silence and your staring as a sign. His lips curled into a smile. (When had his busted lip healed over? How had the purple gone to sallow yellow to normal skin so quickly?) “Maybe you should lie down,” he said softly, voice curling into your ear, a cat crooning. His hand cupped the side of your face and gently guided you to lean on his shoulder.
His fingers danced among the strands of small hairs by your ear. They were warm, but rough at the pads. Your body remained stiff as a board, but you let your eyes flutter shut in an attempt to relax.
Wooyoung’s hand continued to pet the side of your head. “My brothers and I were adopted together by a woman we called our den mother. Every night, without fail, she would tuck us into bed and tell us the origins of a creature called the werewolf.”
Werewolves? How fitting, you thought. After everything that happened, you'd forgotten that this town was infested with rogue wolves.
“The werewolf was a creature trapped between two forms—man and wolf,” he continued. “Upon the full moon, wolves newly born to their dual forms shed their human skin for the body of a wolf. By morning, they would have no recollection of what transpired.
“They said that werewolves were bloodthirsty, carnal creatures, ruled by their basest needs and desires. Their teeth were as sharp as knives for a reason. They were more animal than they were man.” His fingers paused on the side of your head, before picking a lock to twirl around his index. “But what man did not know was that the werewolves were conscious and intelligent; they were imbued with divine purpose.”
Though his storytelling wasn't conventional, you clung onto every word. Your hand gripped the fabric of your pajama pants, eyes remaining shut.
Wooyoung's nose nudged the side of your head. “Though their bodies were a curse, their abilities could be used to find their blessings. The universe tends toward balance, after all.”
“A blessing?” the two words slipped from your lips, barely audible.
But doubtlessly, he heard it. You couldn't see the very wide smile on his face at your interest. “Yes, sweet girl, a blessing,” he said, brightened. “Each soul, born to the body of a werewolf, was given one divine mate. A soul that made theirs whole; a soul made exclusively, mutually, for each other.”
The organ occupying your chest gave a hard thump against your bones.
“And it was the werewolf's divine duty,” he murmured against your hair, “to find this soulmate and do everything in his power to have her.”
Your heart throttled in its cage and your eyes flew open. All feeling bled from your fingers again; they were as numb as the moment you watched Felix die.
Because of you. He died because of you.
You lifted your head from Wooyoung's shoulder, ignoring the burn of his gaze and the way his fingers curled into your hair like he was going to root you in place if he had to. “I—I think I've actually become quite tired,” you stammered, knees shaking as you stood.
“Yn—”
“Thanks, Wooyoung.” You flashed him a smile that would convince no one, but it faltered when you caught the look on his face.
Maybe it was the angle of his body positioned against the fire, but a dark shadow had fallen across him. His features were unreadable again—no, just unfeeling. Calculating. You couldn't ignore it this time, nor could you ignore the near-painful spike of fear that pierced your chest.
That glint, that flash of steel in his eyes—you should have known by now what light reflecting off the edge of a blade looked like.
It took everything in you not to run.
six. there's something out there in here
You didn't sleep a wink. The nerves in your body remained taut and uncomforted, fueled by the presence of your house guest. You waited in your bedroom for the feeble rays of winter sun to lift night from the sky. As soon as the dark sapphire lightened to a shade of frozen ice, you got dressed.
It gave you too much time to think and mull over everything that had happened recently.
The rational side of you couldn't put stock behind Wooyoung's supposed bedtime story. And the rational side of you also knew that one didn't have to be a fucking werewolf to pull off any of the messed up shit you'd endured the past few weeks.
Right?
Nonetheless, the five injured birds you kept harbored away in your room were to be freed today—fully recovered or not. They needed to get out. You didn't know why the urge suddenly consumed you like wildfire, but you would set them free before something prevented you from doing so.
The birds sat together in their makeshift nest, chirping up at you as you slipped out of your room and into the hallway.
You swiveled your head—left to right—marking no presence of your house guest. The other bedroom door was ajar as it always was, but you knew he didn't need it to be able to get around without a sound.
(You should have known something was wrong when you suddenly felt that the eyes were in your house, too.)
“Don't start yelling—I mean it,” you chided all of your birds as you continued out into the main room. They seemed to still at once, as if sensing that they had left the safe haven of your bedroom. You could relate; a tingling sensation cascaded down your body from your shoulders, down your spine, and curling in your toes.
The main room was dark, but you could smell the distinct char and bitterness of roasted coffee beans from the kitchen.
“Sleep well?” asked Wooyoung from where he stood behind the coffee maker, arms crossed over his chest, the corners of his mouth curling upward.
“Uhm yeah—yes—”
The birds started their symphony.
You jerked as they each bellowed their individual calls, beady eyes transfixed upon the man who stood in your kitchen, across the room from you. It wasn't a trick of your eyes or ears when you witnessed Wooyoung narrow his gaze and pull his lips back in a snarl.
A dull thunk sounded from the couch's end table—you didn't know how you noticed it.
“What the hell?”
The tripwire had just been triggered again. There was absolutely no time to fully digest everything that was happening. There were too many things happening.
You could deal with the birds later, you decided. Them and you were all on the same page about your house guest, but there was something out there trying to steal away your attention.
“Wait here,” you voiced out instinctively, marching over to grab the rifle leaning against the couch. You didn't wait to hear Wooyoung's response over the sound of the birds.
The back door slammed shut behind you, wooden slabs rattling against its wooden frame. The cold bit your cheeks as you cocked the rifle. Your boots sank into the snow and you stalked along the first rows of trees around the perimeter of your home.
It could be that regular wildlife just happened to set it off this morning. That would be the best case scenario.
Then what's the worst case? you asked yourself, keeping the rifle level with your eye, finger wrapped around the trigger.
You didn't want to admit that Wooyoung's story from last night flashed through your mind. It was only a children's bedtime story; it wasn't real.
It couldn't possibly be…
In the stagnant winter morning, not a soul could be heard. Only your fears and your breath kept you company as you weaved yourself through the trees.
You made sure to check any traps you came across, your heart pounding in your chest with each empty one you found. Whatever it was, it tripped the wire, didn't get trapped, and showed no signs of being around anymore.
(You knew someone like that.)
You had almost made a complete circle around the property when something blurred past in your periphery.
You whirled, muzzle aimed in the direction in question.
Ba-bump, ba-bump, went your heartbeat echoing in your ears. Ba-bump, ba-bump.
The bark of a tree dug into your arm as you held position for another minute, and then another.
Until finally, in the distance, you watched in thinly veiled horror as a shadow emerged from between the trees. It was a large, hulking silhouette, black as a winter's night.
You swore to god it took the shape of a massive wolf—until it moved a little. It might have been a wolf. And then it turned its head toward you, and your stomach dropped clear into your shoes—definitely not a wolf.
It was gone as quickly as it came. One minute, its yellow eyes, a pair of glowing amber stones, pierced your soul in an all too familiar way; the next, it stepped out of sight, as if it had walked between the folds of the trees to disappear.
Your hands trembled as you brought the rifle down. The wolf—that thing—was certainly still out there. It was a feeling that wouldn't go away, the heavy, phantom weight of an unwanted gaze. You didn't believe you could kill it or hunt it down.
Your next best option was to head back and perhaps call the sheriff. There was a good chance he wouldn't take you seriously again, but you had to try.
Setting a fast pace, you slung the rifle across your body and made your way back to the cabin. Every so often, you would glance over your shoulder expecting to see even the phantom glow of those eyes.
When you let yourself in, you shucked the rifle off and went straight for the landline on the end table.
The rifle butt thudded as you set it down and replaced it in your hand with the phone.
Your finger stopped while going toward the dial.
Why was it so damn quiet?
Your eyes scanned the room first for Wooyoung. He was (arguably) the easiest to spot. He was nowhere to be found, but your makeshift nest of birds sat on the kitchen counter by an untouched pot of coffee.
You set the phone down and stepped over to the nest. Dread began to seep into your bloodstream, a ship with a leak in its hull, slowly filling with seawater.
Bile lurched up your throat at what you saw.
There was far too much blood everywhere for such small creatures. There was too much meat, tendon, and bone showing; too much for any of it to be considered remotely humane.
They were dead. Every last one of them.
Wooyoung was not in the house. He had left sometime during the night or early morning when you were locked up in your room, “sleeping.” He left without a sound, without a trace.
The only way you knew he'd left was because you looked.
Your heart thundered in your chest and you feared it was so loud, it might start echoing within the silent cabin. You grabbed a handful of clothing from the dresser to throw into your bag. There was little time to lose—you didn't know when or if Wooyoung would be back, where he had gone. For all you knew, he could have walked down the road and was on his way back now.
You buried the birds in the forest a few minutes’ walk from your back porch. Cleaning the blood from the basket and the wooden table had been misery-inducing. Your hands wouldn't stop shaking.
You’d cleaned animal remains before, but you had never seen it done like this—their tiny throats removed, like a pair of fingers had torn them out by the vocal cords. Their dark, beady eyes stared up at you as soulless glass.
He'd smiled at you when he walked into the main room. I thought you'd like some peace and quiet, was what he said. There had been something dark reddish-brown staining the bed beneath Wooyoung's fingernails. His disposition had grown even lighter in the absence of all the noise.
That was the moment you decided to run at the first opportunity.
There wasn't much for you to pack, despite the original intent to housesit for a month. Everything could be replaced in due time; nothing was worth lingering here any longer than you needed to.
You yanked the zipper closed and slung the strap over your shoulder.
In the living room, you found the hunting rifle leaning against the couch as it always did. You picked it up and checked the cartridge, scrambling onto the floor to find where you'd discarded that box of ammo all those nights ago.
With ammo, gun, and bag in your possession, you practically launched yourself toward the front door.
Your breath came out in sharp, white puffs in front of your face as the winter air snapped its cold fangs at you. You hobbled through the snow to your car in the driveway, praying to any being watching over you that this would be a smooth drive down the mountain. There hadn't been a terrible amount of snowfall lately; if anything, any powder on the ground was now old, sludgy ice.
But as you reached your car door, you patted down the pockets of your jacket, your pants, your bag—
“Shit,” you muttered, abandoning your bag on the hood and jogging yourself back into the cabin.
Your keys. How could you forget your fucking keys?
You cursed yourself all the way back up the porch steps and while shouldering into the cabin. The keys were not on the counter by the front door, nor were they on the kitchen island, or the end table by the couch, or on your desk in your bedroom.
The longer you went without finding these damn keys, the stronger your heart palpitations became. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
You could feel your extremities numb and quake as you strapped the gun across your back, so you could rifle through the kitchen drawers with both hands.
The entire drawer of silverware clanked together as your hands jerked with the rest of your body, head whipping up far too fast to be normal. Every fiber of your being stood on edge.
How had he opened the door without so much as a peep?
Wooyoung stood across the main room from you at the back door, one arm crossed over his chest while the other dangled your car keys from his fingers. You didn't notice any visible weapons on him, only the unsettling amount of blood smeared across his cheeks and hands and torso. There was a luxurious fur coat hanging from his shoulders, and while he wore a pair of pants, his chest was bare. Slashes of white scarred the toned lines of his chest—you didn't want to know what those were from.
“Yes, I was actually,” you said, somehow managing to keep the obvious shaking out of your voice. Your hand went straight to your rifle. “Can I please have them? I was going to go into town to—”
“You don't need to lie to me,” he said. A smile played upon his lips, but it wasn't the good kind. There was something amused about it, as if he found it entertaining that you would even try. “You can have them back.”
Relief was still out of reach. It couldn't be that easy. “Really?”
Wooyoung shrugged. “Sure, sweets. I'd give my mate anything she wanted.”
The terminology made your freeze as dread coiled itself around your ribcage and squeezed.
“As long as,” he added airily, lifting his other hand to give his bloodied nails a cursory glance over, “you can tell me you won't be leaving town. I'd really hate to take something as important away as your car, Yn.”
He raised his eyes to meet yours again. “Or any ability to leave at all, in fact.”
You swallowed. “I just want to go home,” you said quietly, hand tightening around the rifle body. You shifted the weapon in front of you, like doing so could shield you from him, could warn him from getting any closer.
“You are home though.” His lips pursed into a pout, eyebrows creasing together. “Well,” he paused, the innocent expression fading away, “not yet, at least. We've got a bit of a walk, but we're practically there. I'm ready to go whenever you are.”
What? “I'm not” —you bit your tongue before the words could slip out.
“You're not what?” Wooyoung's head tilted to the side, that predatory gleam returning to his eyes. “Didn't you want to stay here forever? Live out the rest of your life in this idyllic, secluded place? You said you liked it here.”
Those were your words to him when you first met. He had taken them literally.
“And you know, I did everything I could to prove I would be a perfect mate for you,” he continued on, pushing off the door and beginning to take slow, stalking steps forward. “When you came back for that deer we hunted together, I found you another to eat—and when that man and woman took the body from you, I punished them for stealing what was yours.”
Oh god. The Hawkins's…
“I apologize for not realizing you liked the smaller animals better, but I fixed it! I paid attention. I got you what you liked.” Wooyoung stood halfway across the living room now, arms spread wide in gesture to his generous actions.
Your lungs weren't working. Something horrid crawled up your throat, bitter and acrid and terrible. “Oh my god,” you croaked. A hand came up to cover your mouth. “Oh my god, that was you.”
“Yes, it was,” he said firmly. “You understand, don't you? I told you the other night. I even waited until there would be absolutely nothing obstructing our relationship.”
The other night? He meant the story about the werewolves and their supposed, fated soulmates, then. And as for any obstructions… Oh, god you were going to be sick.
When you could only continue to stare at him, his expression fell into that blank slate again. “Joong said this might be hard, but I always pegged you as smart, Yn.”
“Tell me you didn't do it.”
You knew the answer—it was as certain as if it had been clawed into the ice. If he had done all of that, then there was no question about it. Your voice shook as you said, “Tell me you didn't kill him.”
Wooyoung stared back at you for a long second. “The human boy?” he spat out like it tasted disgusting on his tongue. “I thought we were over this. Why does his death even matter? I did all of it for you—”
A sound expelled from your lungs, something on the verge of tears and a scream. “You killed him for me?”
“Yes! And I would do it again,” he snarled, lip curling over his gums to reveal the point of his canines. “He kept getting in the way—he deserved it, really. You should have heard how pathetic he sounded when I dragged him out onto the ice. I don't understand what you saw in him, Yn.”
“I didn't see him like that,” you exclaimed. Tears watered your vision, lungs seizing in your chest. “He was trying to protect me from you!”
“And some protector he was.” Wooyoung scowled. “If he couldn't even protect himself, he couldn't possibly protect you. But I can.”
Felix died because he lost. He lost in some sick and twisted game he didn't even know he was playing. That wave of grief from before returned tenfold.
“The wolf” eyed you. “Now, it's time for you to take your place where you belong.”
“With you?” you asked, scoffing at the absurdity still.
“Yes.” His eyes narrowed, dropping your keys against the floor. The clattering noise it made nearly had you flinching. He began making long, purposeful strides toward you. “Don't be stubborn—”
You raised the rifle, the cocking mechanism reverberating throughout the cabin. His footsteps faltered. “Stay away from me.”
“I really,” he murmured, movements slowing, “don't think you want to do that.”
“I think I do.” You wrapped your finger around the trigger. “Take one more step and I'll kill you, I swear to fucking god.”
“Yn.” His foot inched forward.
You didn't think, only squeezed the trigger. The shock from the shot vibrated through your entire body, energy traveling from finger, to arm, to chest.
His expression turned downward as if he was disappointed that you'd held true to your word.
BANG! You loaded another bullet and fired it. BANG! BANG! BANG—
He stumbled back from the force before his body collapsed backward onto the wood floor of your living room.
Smoke wafted from the end of the muzzle as you lowered it from your line of sight. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes glued to the body. Something dark, viscous, murky began to seep out from under him where the bullets had flown through: two through the heart, three through the lungs. You'd shot to kill.
You let the butt of the rifle hit the floor as you buried your face in your hands and sucked in about a dozen shuddering breaths.
He was dead.
He had to be dead.
And when you crept over, one small step at a time, his eyes were closed and the bullet holes were unmistakeable.
You pressed your fingers to your mouth and crouched down beside him to pick up your car keys. Don't feel bad, you thought to yourself. He killed Felix. He terrorized you for weeks. He was finally dead.
You stepped around the blood pooling on the ground.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, goosebumps raising over your skin. Why did your nerves still feel as taut as a bowstring?
The danger was over, was it not?
You clenched the car keys in your hand and shifted the rifle across your back.
A low growl resonated through the room.
“I told you not to do that.”
Fear had you turning around.
Instinct wasn't fast enough to load your gun again.
A scream tore out of your throat as the creature pounced at you, and the sight that filled your vision—teeth, jaw, fur, and eyes that glared like warning signs—was not a wolf.
It was cold, was the first thing you thought when your conscience came to. Your eyes couldn't open yet, and you could only feel the muffled friction of your body sliding over snow.
It was so cold, you were numb to it. The nerves attending to every junction and crevice of your body had been blocked. A ball of cotton had been shoved into your head; you couldn't breathe quite right. It smelled like a penny—metallic, heady.
One of your legs was dragging along the ground; the other was lifted up in the air, ankle clutched by an unwavering grip to the point that it was numb just like the rest of your body. But something throbbed, distantly. You couldn't pinpoint where it was, only that it pulsed with its own heartbeat.
When your eyes fluttered open, you squinted up at the blinding white sky above your head. The thin, wiry branches of winter trees passed through your frame of vision every so often; and the whistling… there was a soft, muddled whistling somewhere.
“Oh, you're awake.”
Your body couldn't even react to that voice. That voice was supposed to be dead.
You didn't have strength in your neck to lift your head and confirm your fears, but he spoke again anyway. “I really didn't want to hurt you, Yn, but you didn't give me much choice. Bullets hurt, y'know?”
He chuckled, a sound that might have been warm if you didn't know him. “I forgot to mention that you can't kill me like that,” he said pleasantly. “It was cute that you tried. Your aim was perfect.”
Where are you taking me? you wanted to ask, but couldn't. Your voice was trapped away inside your throat, body too numbed and in pain at the same time. The only thing you could do was let out a little whimper.
“It won't be too long now,” he reassured you. “I think… just a little further…”
His voice dragged out for a couple moments, then stopped when he physically halted.
Your leg was set down onto the snow with its partner, and your blurry view was captured by the face of a man whom you thought you killed. Your pulse began to race as fear and adrenaline were injected into your veins. He was wearing the coat still, but the bullet holes you were certain you saw were nowhere to be found on his torso.
“I killed a bear for this hide,” said Wooyoung while slipping the fur from his shoulders. He draped it over your body, wrapping you in its entirety—a glorified corpse. Your body left the ground as he scooped you into his arms, and was pressed to him, his face in your clear view. “I figured you might be cold where we're going. Joong said it would be a great mating gift.”
Where…? Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. What had he done to you?
“Where?” he repeated after reading your lips. “Home, sweet girl. And don't you worry—”
He turned around and showed you the path from which you came from. Another round of bile crept up your throat. The white snow was marred by a streak of crimson red, undoubtedly your blood. There were remnants of footsteps within the dark sludge, but not enough to truly identify them. The bloody river snaked a path through the forest; you couldn't even see the cabin from here.
He leaned down toward you, nose nudging at your cheek with affection. “—they’ll never find you.”
the end.
Sheriff Lang was at odds with the evidence before him. The evidence told a story—albeit, a vague one—but none of it made much sense.
According to what he was seeing, you were in the kitchen shooting at something or someone in the living room. You'd succeeded, in fact. The only issue was there was no body, and there were no indications that you or anybody else could have dragged it away. It was simply a puddle of blood.
Rifle shells were scattered over the floor where you had stood. He was slowly trying to piece everything together. None of this pointed to an animal attack; no wild animal was this neat.
(He didn't want to admit that it could've been the other way round: that somebody had been shooting you, and all of that was your life force, seeping into the wooden floors of your relatives’ home. With what you'd told him the other day… It wasn't that he didn't believe you or Felix; he just didn't want to risk it.)
A distraught sign fell from his mouth as he rubbed a hand over his face. “Damn it.”
What was he supposed to tell your aunt and uncle? You had already been missing for a couple days. Mr. Ly had been the one to find the pool of blood in your cabin when he came to check up on you. After the tragic death of your friend Felix Lee, he'd been concerned after you failed to answer your phone several times, only to be met with the smell of iron, death, and dread.
It was all just fucked up.
“Sheriff Lang!”
The sheriff's body reacted before his own brain could. It was prey instinct, recognizing the sound of a predator.
Except—Sheriff Lang raised his head and watched as a tall, young man stepped into the cabin. He was, by all definitions, normal; if a wolf in sheep's clothes could be normal. Outwardly, the man was not threatening. He had a smile that was infectious and a soft kind of laugh he employed to force an air of ease into rather uneasy situations.
He'd shown up in town eight months ago, and that was when all of Sheriff Lang's problems had begun.
He called himself Jeong. “Mr. Jeong,” Sheriff Lang greeted him slowly, eyes scanning the lanky body of his counterpart to clock anything that could be considered a threat. “This is an active crime scene, so I'm afraid you'll have to leave.”
How did he even know where to find him?
Mr. Jeong flashed him an easy smile. “No problem, I only came to say that I'll be leaving soon.”
The sheriff could hardly believe what he was hearing. He couldn't help the twist of disbelief in his eyebrows.
Mr. Jeong laughed. “My superior is very pleased with your cooperation, Sheriff Lang,” he said, that unnerving smile still plastered on his face. “And now that we have what we came for, we will be moving on.”
“Moving on, you say?” What in the world did any of this mean? Eight months ago, he didn't have a pack of rogue wolves terrorizing his town. Eight months ago, there weren't four people dead or missing. Eight months ago… What exactly had he and his party come here for?
A nod. “Yes. Not to worry—you won't be seeing me ever again. You and your family will have nothing to fear, as long as you adhere to our agreement. Your town and your life will return to the way it was before.”
“You mean,” Sheriff Lang deadpanned, “before bodies started dropping dead?”
“Well, yes.” Mr. Jeong smiled again and clapped his counterpart on the shoulder. The sheriff had to try hard not to flinch. “Goodbye, Sheriff Lang.”
“Sheriff!” A deputy poked his head in through the back door, eyes as wide as the moon. “You need to come see this.”
“You should probably follow him,” Mr. Jeong said. He turned on his heel, then walked out of the cabin without another word.
Sheriff Lang heeded the strange man's warnings and went after his deputy, but glanced over his shoulder to ensure Mr. Jeong had really gone away. When he was satisfied, he turned his focus to whatever his officer was calling him about.
They emerged onto the back porch, and the sheriff stopped cold in his tracks.
Well, that seemed to explain some things.
It could only be described as a river of blood. What was once likely pure crimson, was a trail of dark, murky brown-red winding deep into the forest. The path began at the foot of the back porch steps and disappeared between the trees.
Sheriff Lang let out a low swear, and he and his deputy could only follow the trail to find its end.
“There are partial footprints here,” said the deputy, pointing out divots where the snow hadn't been levelled out. There were other, smaller animal prints occasionally, but they were rare; no animal wanted any part of whatever this was.
He felt his stomach tank.
A body. Only something as large and heavy as a body could have made this trail. The body had been dragged for this long.
The two continued onward, carefully picking their way around each wide bend and narrow curve of this wicked path. Whoever this was had to have lost a lot of blood. There was simply no way they were alive now.
About two miles into the woods, the pair were brought to a halt.
Sheriff Lang bristled. “Where the hell is the rest of it?”
“I—I don't know,” stammered the deputy.
“Well, we have to find it! They couldn't have just disappeared into thin air.”
They set off in different directions in search of the conclusion they were missing. But as the minutes bled into hours bled into days, it was clear that there was no conclusion.
The bloody trail ended and there were no more footprints in the snow.
a/n: remember to comment + reblog if u enjoyed ! def not my typical fic genre but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless :)
soobin has vowed to protect you and he will hold onto that promise, even if you yourself have already given up
wc: 0.8k; tags: historical/royal au, angst (with a hopeful ending); warnings: mentions of blood, fire, death (no mcd), reader being carried
masterlist
Soobin halts before your chambers, taking a brief moment to catch his breath and collect himself even in this moment of great urgency. Maybe it's the need to appear proper in front of you, or maybe he's just scared of what he'll find behind these doors. When he finally does step in, the room lies before him dark and silent, lit up only by the fires burning outside. You’re standing close to the window, hair down in your fancy dress, watching it all unfold with a calmness that strikes Soobin as odd. It’s like the haste and noise that he had to fight through to find you here, all the blood and smoke and screaming, it suddenly dissipates at the sight of you. It’s like he’s reached the eye of the storm, your chambers a haven of tranquility as they lay before him undisturbed.
"Soobin," You turn around slowly, a smile on your lips that reads sadness and not the slightest sliver of hope, "I'm glad it's you."
Soobin is glad that it's him who has found you, too, but he can't really feel relieved. There is something off with the way you look at him, the way you move so slowly without any haste, even though there is no time to spare if you want to live.
....You want to live, right? You haven't given up yet, have you?
You step closer to him until there's barely any space between you, bare feet against the cold marble floor, and Soobin has to resist the urge to lift you up, to carry you so your noble feet don't have to touch the ground.
You reach up, and he almost flinches when your fingers graze his skin, knowing all too well he isn't worth your touch, and even less now when he's dirty with sweat and blood and ashes. You show no signs of hesitation though as you gently push a few strands of hair out of his forehead. You don't ask him to bow either, and he doesn’t even though he knows he should, but he can't bear to look away from you and cast his gaze to the floor.
"Soobin," you say again, your palm briefly cupping his cheek before it wanders down his arm and comes to rest on his hand, that is still holding his sword. "You will make it quick, won't you?" You let out a little sigh, "I know it's not a mercy my bloodline deserves, but maybe, if there’s at least a trace of affection left from the countless hours spent together, you could grant me this favor?"
Soobin swallows hard, his brain unwilling to catch up with what the uneasy feeling in his stomach has already understood. "What are you saying, your highness?"
"I'm no highness anymore, not after tonight."
"Still—" But you don't let him speak, your fingers tightening their grip on him. "I'd much rather die by your hand, than anyone else's. I know you'd lay me to rest much gentler than most."
"No," he hears the urgency in his own voice and feels the way tears are welling up in his eyes, and while he knows this display of distress is inadequate, he doesn't think this is the moment to hold back just for the sake of proper conduct. His free hand grabs yours, pulls it away from his sword, and holds it close to his chest, "If you die tonight, then so will I."
Your words tremble as you reply, "The crown has already fallen, Soobin. You mustn't go down with it just to fulfil your duty."
He swallows thickly, "I have no duty towards the crown, nor do I find myself intrigued to fight with the rebellion. This sword's sole purpose is to protect you, for I've sworn my loyalty to you and you alone, your highness. If you decide it's the last night, I will gladly go with you."
A chuckle slips past your lips, but it isn't humorous, just sad. "How foolish. Like a dog who follows the very master who put a leash around his neck."
"If my loyalty is truly a leash, it has never felt as such. You never yanked on it, it has not once cut into my skin."
"How foolish," you say once more, but you don't mock him again.
There's a loud noise outside, he thinks maybe the archway has collapsed under the raging fire of the rebellion.
"What do you decide, your highness?"
"What decision is there to make? I can forsake my life but not yours, never yours."
A smile spreads on his lips as his grip around your hand tightens. "Then you'll just have to live, your highness."
You give him a small nod, "My life is in your hands."
He sheathes his sword and finally does what he wanted to do the second he saw your bare feet; he lifts you off the floor, ready to carry you as far as needed to get you to safety. "I'll make sure to treasure it."
masterlist | pls consider reblogging/commenting if you liked this ♡
Delivery mishaps and frosty encounters- Choi Yeonjun
cw: yeonjun x fem!reader; a lot of cussing and typos bc I simply can’t help myself; eunchae and Yunjin from le sserafim + tubatu; restraining order
an: tuesday I ordered a McFlurry and got a cheeseburger instead. I shared that with a dear friend ( @soobinieswife ) and she said someone should write a story about it. I did. I’m not happy about it. Lost my points and my ice cream.
summary: Jongho was everything you weren’t: ambitious, diligent, promising—all in all the perfect law school student. Naturally, your chaos didn’t fit into his prearranged life. Not for long, anyway. Your silly little relationship was never meant to last. So how come you couldn't seem to move on? Of course, being grouped together for a semester-long assignment didn't exactly help your case.
tags: exes2lovers, law student!au, hurt/comfort, y/n lowkey has an inferiority complex, jongho is slightly possessive, best friends woosan (bc i love making them y/n's besties), some side characters from tbz/skz; warnings: alcohol consumption, throwing up
wc: 9.2k
a/n: this is my fic for the live alive collab hosted by @sungbeam! honestly i'm just so glad to have made it (or, well it's half past midnight in my time zone but i tried my best i swear t-t) i was really hoping my time management would be better for this, but honestly life wasn't really having it. either way, i hope you enjoy this story & pls check out the other fics for this collab!!
and also @ beam - thanks for letting me be part of this sweet collab. i'm glad to have had a good reason to write (and actually finish!!) something. love you lots<3
masterlist | collab masterlist
So maybe you'd overestimated what a two month break could do. You’d thought you'd use all that free time really well, to eat healthy and exercise and read more books. You’d also thought you'd be well ahead of all the assignments due during the break. And most of all you’d thought you'd come back after the break as a changed woman who is definitely not still hung up on her boyfriend that she broke up with right before the semester ended.
Reality however looked quite different: You'd eaten too much pizza, barely left the house, binge watched not only one but two TV shows, barely finished your assignments on time and spent an embarrassing amount of time crying over your boyfriend. Needless to say, you were most definitely still hung up on him.
Consequently, going back to school left you with mixed feelings. It all came down to a simple list of pros and cons, and you weren’t sure which side was weighing heavier.
Pros:
Getting away from your nagging parents.
Seeing your friends again.
Spending a fun last summer with them.
Cons:
Seeing Jongho.
Your friends are his friends too.
Whatever fun activities are planned, he’ll inevitably be there too.
It wasn’t that you suddenly hated him (surely, life would be easier if you could). But just the mere thought of facing him again ripped your heart in two. His words were still ringing in your head like he’d said them just yesterday. ‘Might as well end it now.’ As if it barely even concerned him. And just like that, it’d been over.
While it felt suffocating to be at home, you wanted to prolong your return as much as possible. For one to avoid Jongho for as long as you could. And then also to avoid your friends, most importantly your best friends. Because you hadn’t told them about the break up. You’d just pretended everything was fine right up until you sat in your train home. And then, the moment it had left the station you’d crumbled pathetically, sobbing so hard that a woman sitting in the seat before you handed you some tissues.
Of course you knew you couldn’t keep the break up a secret forever, but somehow talking about it was scary. Talking about it would make it real. Talking about it would maybe prompt your friends to tell you that you’d been stupid and that it was your fault, and you weren’t quite ready to hear that yet. Still, you couldn’t just postpone it all indefinitely and take the semester off, so you arrived back at the dorm one day before the lectures were starting again. Your room looked the way you’d left it. You hadn’t bothered taking any of your personal bits down while you were away, just packed what you needed and left—but when you set foot inside now, you were starting to regret that. You’d never noticed how much space Jongho had taken up in your room. There were pictures of him and you and your friends all over your pin board, along with tickets from when you’d been to the theater together. On your desk was a clover he’d given you before one of your exams (three leaves, not four, despite his best efforts to find one), that you’d pressed and safely displayed in a tiny picture frame. And then of course, on your bed, right next to your pillow was that teddy with its tiny head and broad shoulders that he’d gifted you for your last birthday and that you’d always joked looked exactly like him.
You wanted to throw it all away just so you didn’t have to look at it anymore. Instead, you curled up in bed, jeans and all, and cuddled that teddy close to your chest. You buried your nose in the soft material, pretending you could still smell him on it, when really it only smelled like you.
You must have fallen asleep at some point, because you woke up in the middle of the night, still in the clothes you’d worn all day, and with a terrible headache that kept you from falling asleep again. Since it seemed you weren’t going to catch much more sleep anyway, you stepped outside. The halls of the dormitory had been noisy and bustling earlier, everyone eagerly greeting each other and catching up after the long break. But now it was eerily quiet. Maybe everyone had suddenly come to respect the curfew, or maybe they’d decided to take it easy tonight since lectures would start tomorrow, and there’d be a huge party to kick off the semester on Friday anyway.
As you wandered the corridor, it took you back to the last day before the break. You’d aimlessly wandered back then too, unable to sleep after your conversation with Jongho, but not able to cry either. Not yet, anyway, because it hadn’t sunken in yet. It’d felt surreal at the time, like you half expected Jongho to show up at your dorm the next day to inform you that the break up was of course not actually happening. You could picture it so well, him standing there first thing in the morning, early enough to still catch the 9 AM train to his family home, making sure to tell you that you’re still dating, so you wouldn’t have stupid thoughts while on break. Jongho was like that, preferring clarity over leaving you guessing. That day though, he hadn’t shown up, and maybe that was a way of making things clear, too. You’d watched the clock ticking away, 9 AM passing you by, but you’d still held onto some hope until the afternoon, when it was time for your own departure. And even then, a delusional part of you was thinking maybe he’d show up at the platform to apologize and he’d hold you so close and you’d hug him right back, and he’d tell you to let go because you’d miss your train, but you wouldn’t even care because all that mattered was that Jongho still loved you.
It was only when the train had started departing and the people at the platform started blurring behind the window as you passed them by, that it finally sunk in. Jongho hadn’t come. He’d let you leave just like that, with a two month break ahead of you to cement the fact that you’d broken up. He was no longer your boyfriend. And with that realization came the tears, and it seemed they hadn’t really stopped since then.
By the time you wandered back to your room, it was already getting light outside, the sunrise dying the sky in shades of pink and purple that were too beautiful to match your mood. You closed the blinds to shut them out and sunk back into your bed.
It seemed sleep had eventually found you again. In fact, you slept so deeply that you didn’t hear any of your three alarms and completely missed your first lecture. Luckily, you had a really good friend, and he wasn’t shy to remind you when you met him at the cafeteria in between classes.
“You’d be so doomed without me,” he said instead of a greeting, “but of course, your best friend in the world made sure to answer roll call for you and even signed you up for the group project.”
“Thanks, Wooyoung,” you set down a cup of coffee in front of him as a means of compensation, “I owe you my life.”
“You really do. That prof is no joke, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed, taking a sip of your own cup.
“What’s been up with you anyway? We’ve barely heard of you all break. San was this,” he made a pinching motion with his fingers, “close to borrowing his mom’s car and driving over there to make sure you’re still alive.”
“That’d be a 10 hour ride.”
“That’s how much we love you.” Wooyoung rested his chin on his hand and eyed you intensely, “So, will you tell me what’s up?”
“I’ve been stressed out over the assignments?” You already knew it was a poor excuse before he called you out for it.
“I know that’s not it. Just tell me. I promise it will be okay.”
All his silly jokes and teasing aside, Wooyoung was a good friend and a good listener. But it still felt hard to put the words out there. It made you fell as if you were sitting in that train all over again, watching the people and the platform disappear, and your relationship with them.
“We broke up,” you finally said, immediately taking another sip of your coffee hoping it could wash down the taste of heartbreak lingering on your tongue.
You raised an eyebrow at him, “Who would joke about something like that?”
He shrugged, “You’ve become pretty unpredictable, so who knows?”
“Oh, yes, I’m an enigma.” You rolled your eyes and the little banter helped you shove your actual feelings aside, pretending it all didn’t phase you as much as it really did. Wooyoung looked at you for another moment, clearly seeing right through you, but not commenting on it.
“But, uhm, if it’s true, then I have some sort of bad news for you,” he admitted reluctantly, his expression sheepish.
“Spill.”
“So, uh, remember how I said I signed you up for the group project?”
“No.”
“It’s supposed to be groups of four—”
“No, Wooyoung, please.”
“And San and I didn’t know—remember? You kept this incredibly relevant information from us, your best friends in the world—and we had to make a decision—”
“No, no, no—”
“It just made sense to group up.”
Great. Amazing. Splendid. You were stuck working on an assignment with your ex-boyfriend. all. semester.
“How is this my life?” You dropped your head in your hands, “And how come he didn’t protest either?”
“Ah, right,” Wooyoung seemed to only realize now that you were lacking this information, “Jongho wasn’t present either. Saved his ass during roll call, too, but I guess that’s not really of much interest to you.”
“No, Jung Wooyoung, it is not of much interest to me in the face of this whole group project disaster.” Though, you did have to admit that it was highly unusual for Jongho, ambitious, diligent Jongho, to miss a class unexcused.
“Understandable,” he nodded, “But maybe we can still switch groups?”
“Who would even switch with me? I don’t have other friends.”
He grinned. “But I do. Changbin is in that class too, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking your place. And he’s grouped up with Felix, you know Felix, right?”
You do know Felix. You like him too, though you wouldn’t go as far as to call him a friend. Still, being grouped with sweet, kind Felix would be much better than having to spend the whole semester working with Jongho.
“Would you ask him?”
“Anything for my bestie,” Wooyoung looked at you with an encouraging smile, “I’m sure it will work out just fine.”
Maybe switching groups wasn’t all that big of a deal, or maybe Changbin just liked Wooyoung enough to agree easily—either way, just two days later your friend assured you that the groups were changed without any issues, and Felix had even notified the professor of the changes already. He generally seemed to have taken up some kind of leading role, because you received a message from him that same day, informing you that the group had agreed to meet up the next Tuesday to make a plan for the semester, and asked if you could make it as well. Tuesday was fine with you, and honestly, even if it weren’t you would’ve tried your best to adjust your schedule to them out of gratitude for taking you in. According to Wooyoung, aside from Felix it was Eric and Sanha in that group, and because they were close to Jongho, you’d already talked to them quite a few times back when you’d still been dating. You remembered them as being pretty friendly and fun to be around and you just hoped their friendship with your ex-boyfriend didn’t make things awkward. Though, even then, it seemed like a much better choice to work with his friends instead of the man himself.
Maybe it was that silly optimism of yours that jinxed your demise. Because surely enough, when you stepped into the café across campus on Tuesday, the guy sitting next to Eric at the table Felix had reserved looked uncomfortably familiar: It was Jongho. Even from a distance and a slightly awkward angle, you recognized him right away. His dark brown hair, the black frames of his glasses, the neatly ironed collar of his shirt. It didn’t make sense. Why would Jongho bother showing up to the meeting of your project group? Even if he was friends with Eric and Sanha—shouldn’t he have the tactfulness to stay away after you went as far as to switch groups (something you were safe to assume wasn’t only in your interest, but his as well)?
You wanted to turn around and leave, maybe send a message that you’d suddenly started to feel unwell, or at least come back with a little delay in hopes Jongho would’ve left by then, but before you could do any of that, someone called your name.
“Hey there!” Felix greeted you with a bright smile, looking genuinely happy to see you again. He had a tray in his hands, four cups you noted, which meant either they’d already ordered for you as well, or a certain guest was planning to stick around for at least one coffee. You hadn’t seen Sanha around yet either, which filled your stomach with a feeling of unease.
“Hey,” you nodded awkwardly, “do you need help carrying that?”
“Nah, don’t worry. Just follow me, the rest is already there,” he naturally leads the way towards the dreaded table, “I hope you don’t mind we ordered for you,” he added, “Matcha with oat milk.”
“Oh.” Your gaze lingered on the cup you assumed to be yours, “Thank you.” Jongho must’ve told him your usual order. How else would Felix, or Eric for that matter, know? And despite the anger you still felt about Jongho being there in the first place, knowing he cared enough to order for you, knowing he cared enough to remember, awakened something else in the depth of your stomach. You quickly pushed it aside. It was just routine, it didn’t mean anything. Felix must’ve asked him if he knew your order, and he must’ve replied automatically, without giving it much thought or care. (But didn’t that have its own value too? Didn’t it feel inherently meaningful that your habits have become so ingrained in his very being, that he could recite them without thinking?)
“Y/n!” Eric pulled you out of your thoughts as you approached the table, a wide grin on his face, “Man, it’s been ages since I’ve seen you last, how have you been?” He got up and hugged you so naturally and friendly, it made you wonder if he even knew about the break up. You didn’t dare to ask though, didn’t want to bring up that awful topic so you just hugged him back, told him you’d been great and left it at that. You sat down across from him, next to Felix and at the biggest possible distance from Jongho. You’d wanted to glare at him, ask him why the fuck he was here, but now that you were actually close enough to talk to him for the first time since the end of last semester, it suddenly felt hard to even look at him. So, you focused on your matcha instead that Felix had placed in front of you, appreciating the latte art that fittingly almost looked like a clover.
“When’s Sanha joining us?” You asked, trying to come off as casual and relaxed and driving home that air of nonchalance by taking a sip of your drink.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Eric sounded surprised. “Him and Jongho switched groups.”
You choked so badly on your matcha you almost spat it in his face, and gratefully accepted the tissue that was handed to you, before even realizing it was Jongho who handed it to you.
“It’s a good thing though,” Eric easily continued, “I love Sanha, but I think with Jongho in our group we have a pretty good chance of getting an A+, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” you were still barely able to breathe, “Right.”
You tried your best to keep it together while Eric and Felix were there, focusing on the project and assigning tasks for everyone until the next meet up. The moment they left though, and it was just you, who’d purposely lingered, and Jongho who, for some reason, had stayed behind as well, you exploded.
“What the fuck?!” You hissed, quiet enough not to make a scene, but not holding back any of the anger seeping into your voice.
“Someone’s angry, huh?”
You wanted to spit in his annoyingly composed face. How could he remain this calm? Did seeing you again not phase him at all?
“Of course I’m angry! Why did you change groups?!”
He shrugged, “I could ask you the same, no?”
“You could’ve at least said something! Then I wouldn’t have bothered switching!”
“You didn’t say anything either,” A grin slipped onto his features, “And considering these are my friends, couldn’t you have anticipated this to happen? Did you maybe want to work with me?”
Maybe you hadn’t thought this through. Why hadn’t this occurred to you? But then why didn’t he tell anyone? If not you, why not at least Wooyoung and San? After all, it concerned them, too! You shoved the last of your notes into your bag, not caring at all about the way the paper crinkled beneath your fingers.
“Whatever, guess I’ll just have to change back.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure the professor will love that. He already seemed mildly annoyed about switching the groups once, I’m sure doing it again will leave a great impression,” he handed you your ballpoint pen that you hadn’t realized was still laying on the table, “We’ve already distributed tasks anyway, just roll with it. Switching now will just make more work for everyone.”
He was right. Of course, he was right. Perfect, smart Jongho tended to be right about everything. Guess you were stuck with Jongho in your project group, again.
“Don’t kill me for saying this, and I do feel so sorry—but this situation is also kind of hilarious,” Wooyoung looked at you with mirth in his eyes, while San next to him was slurping up his ramyeon without much care.
“No, I absolutely will kill you, how is this hilarious?!”
“I mean—both of you switching groups to avoid each other and then ending up in the same group again? That must be some crazy fate.”
“Yeah, right, fate, or maybe a certain someone,” you stared him down extra hard, “isn’t as close to his friends as he thinks he is, or else I’m sure Changbin would’ve told you about this and we could’ve avoided the whole mess.”
“Honestly,” San intervened, mouth still full, “even Changbin seemed surprised when Sanha showed up to the group meet up. Jongho must’ve just given him the time and place and left it at that.”
Huh. “That’s—weird.” Jongho was usually a bit more…organized? Than that? Normally, he would’ve at least given someone in his group a heads up, wouldn’t he?
“Hm,” Wooyoung hummed, a small encouraging smile on his face, “I suppose he’s struggling with the break up just as much as you are.”
That thought honestly made you feel a little better. You weren’t the only one having a hard time. Jongho was struggling too. Why else would he have bothered to switch groups in the first place?
“To be honest though—I’m still confused about the break up. I get if you don’t want to talk about it, but it feels so sudden. Weren’t you still all over each other at the end of the semester? What happened?”
“Yeah,” San echoed as he finished the last of his noodles, “What happened?”
You chewed on your lower lip, unsure what to say, “It’s just…. He’s an ass?”
“Oh, god,” Wooyoung’s jaw tensed, “if he cheated on you I’ll literally kill him.”
“No!” You sighed. “He didn’t cheat.”
“Thank god, I’m not ready to defend someone in court,” San let out a breath of relief, “Especially not for murder. Because, legally, this wouldn’t even be manslaughter.”
“It’d definitely be manslaughter. It’d be all the heat of the moment, a non-malicious crime of passion. Not that I’d be dumb enough to get caught.”
“It would not be manslaughter,” you agreed with San, “but there’s no killing happening anyway. As I said, he didn’t cheat.”
Wooyoung didn’t seem really convinced as he eyed you critically. “Then why? What happened?”
“It just wasn’t meant to be,” you shrugged, unable to meet his gaze, in fear he’d see right through you and the fact that the break up was all your fault. “Why are you so surprised? You didn’t even like him when we first started dating.”
“I didn’t not like him!”
“You called him a stuck up prick.”
“A silver spoon snob, too,” San added.
“Why are y’all ganging up on me?” He huffed in offense, “And that was all just because I thought I needed to protect you! Before I knew how cute he actually is behind that serious face.”
“You date him then.”
“Nah, my bestie’s ex is off limits.”
“Right,” you rolled your eyes at him, “If that’s all that’s stopping you, then you have my blessings.”
Wooyoung grinned, “Don’t regret that later when you’ll inevitably want him back.”
“I won’t.” What a stupid lie, when you’d never wanted to break up in the first place. But what right did you even have to want him back?
“Besides,” Wooyoung added, “until I hear a proper reason for the break up, I doubt the legal validity of it. In my books you’re still married until proven otherwise.”
“Isn’t the fact that we both wanted to avoid each other so bad we switched groups proof enough that we’re over for good?”
“Nice try, mittens. You switched groups precisely because you’re not over at all.”
Working in a group with Jongho was exhausting. Eric had a point—chances of getting an A+ with Jongho wasn’t unlikely, after all he was a perfectionist. Unfortunately though, he made that everyone’s business. As you analyzed the case your group was given for the assignment, he nitpicked every little detail, to make sure you weren’t missing anything. And maybe, under different circumstances, you could’ve appreciated it. Jongho wasn’t usually rude or harsh about his criticism, just honest. But with everything that had happened between the two of you, it felt hard not to take every little comment personally. Even when you knew his criticism was valid, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling like he was judging your work more harshly than anyone else’s out of the grudge he held for you. So, you argued back, pathetically defended your stance as if it was a client you knew all too well was guilty and yet pleaded innocent.
“The buildings shared a wall, Neighbour B should’ve informed Neighbour A before tearing it down,” Jongho calmly stated and you knew he had a point. You knew, and yet—
“It was B’s property, why would they have to inform anyone about a decision that only concerns their building?” you shot back, less calm, less collected, less fit to be a good lawyer.
“It does concern the other party, though. They suffered damages,” Jongho frowned, and you could tell by the expression on Felix’ and Eric’s faces that they felt uncomfortable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to back down.
“It’s not like A would’ve had any right to stop them, so why make a big deal out of it before anything even happened? It wouldn’t have changed anything!”
“Right,” he huffed, “Why bother talking about things, when the decision was already made, huh?” Something flashed through Jongho’s eyes, bitter, hurt, angry.
Felix cleared his throat, “Uhm, guys, are we still talking about the case?”
The mask of indifference returned to Jongho’s face, “Obviously.”
“What else would we be talking about,” you added, but your voice was barely convincing. Truthfully, you didn’t know. It didn’t feel like it.
Once the group session was concluded you hurried to pack up your things, this time not at all interested in staying back with Jongho again, but it seemed you weren’t getting much of a choice. The second you’d stuffed everything into your back, you bid them farewell and rushed out of the café, but Jongho easily caught up to you.
“Let’s talk.”
“I don’t have anything to talk about,” you replied with a dry voice, starting to make your way towards the campus.
“Well, then just listen. Because I have something to talk about.”
You rolled your eyes but still stopped and turned around to look at him. “Let’s hear it then.”
“I know we broke up,” he started and it felt like the worst way to start a conversation, honestly, “But that doesn’t mean you can sabotage the group.”
“I’m not sabotaging anything.”
“You get snippy whenever I criticize anything.”
You want to kill him. For a brief moment you feel like maybe, breaking up was the right choice. “Maybe your criticism isn’t all that great, Jongho, ever considered that? Maybe you are not actually smarter than everyone else.”
You didn’t truly believe what you were saying but he was stunned for a moment and then, to your surprise, shrugged. “Fair enough. Still, I’d prefer not to have arguments in the group that feel so personal.”
“Well, I’m sorry for having feelings. Not surprising that you can’t relate to that though.”
His face hardened ever so slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that just because you can pretend the break up didn’t happen and are completely fine, the same doesn’t have to apply to me.”
“Well, just because I’m not dealing with it the same way as you doesn’t mean I don’t care at all!” His face was gleaming with an anger so intense, it might’ve scared you under different circumstances. But right now you felt smug about finally breaking his mask of calm indifference. It was satisfying. Maybe you couldn’t make him love you, but you at least still mattered enough to make him angry.
“And besides,” he continued, “Y/n, you broke up with me! You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
And he was right. It was you who'd said the words first. But you'd never meant them, not really. You'd just felt so inadequate, like a stain on Jongho's perfect life. He'd always been just a little bit too perfect to be a real person; prestigous family, flawless CV, perfect grades, and despite all that somehow still a loveable personality. You on the other hand were lacking both brains and ambition, only studying law to somehow satisfy your parents despite knowing they would never be satisfied anyway. And then, when Jongho had gotten a job offer at a renown law firm at the end of last semester while you struggled to even get internships, you'd felt you'd lost your place next to him once and for all. So you'd asked him to break up, not because that was what you'd wanted, but because you'd hoped he would stop you and assure you of your right to remain by his side. But instead, when you'd spit your stupid lies about how we'd never last in the real world anyway, he'd just huffed a laugh. Sure, he'd said, Might as well end it now.
You swallowed around the lump clogging your throat. “Maybe I broke up, but you sure had no qualms agreeing to it."
"What?” He let out a sarcastic laugh, “Should I have begged for you to stay?"
"Yes! Yes, you should have!" A timid ‘why didn’t you?’ hung in the air, unspoken.
There was defeat in his voice when he finally spoke up again, "You didn't want me, y/n."
He couldn’t be further from the truth. "I always wanted you." You’d just needed assurance, needed to know he wanted you enough to fight for you. But he didn’t.
In your peripheral vision, you spotted Felix and Eric coming out of the café as well. Felix headed down the street, but Eric was coming your way. Jongho must’ve spotted him too, by the way his demeanor seemed to change at the blink of an eye. It was a subtle shift, maybe not even noticeable to anyone else. But you noticed in the way he let go of the tension in his jaw, in the way the anger disappeared from his eyes.
"Then you shouldn’t have broken up with me," was all he said, calm, definite, the end of a conversation. And of course he was right, as he always was: you shouldn’t have. But why didn’t he call you out on it? Why didn’t he say you don’t mean that, so you could’ve said you’re right, you always are. But maybe the fact you wanted him to take responsibility for your behavior, wanted him to make up for the mistake you made, was one of the reasons he’d decided to go along with it instead.Because who would want to date a person like that?
"All good?" You heard Eric ask as he approached the two of you.
"Yeah, no worries." Jongho’s response barely reached you, like the tears welling up in your eyes were clogging your ears, too.
Right. You trailed behind them, not particularly caring about joining their conversation and rather focusing on keeping yourself from crying. No worries. The words rang in your head like they were mocking you. As if all of this meant nothing, was nothing to worry about. But maybe those were his true feelings. Might as well end it now, right?
When you got out of your last lecture of the day, still sorta out of it, you were suddenly met with a bubbly Eric jogging up next to you.
He grinned, “Did you enjoy the lecture as much as I did?”
“Uh, yeah, totally.”
“I especially loved the part where he talked about penguins.”
Why would your criminal law professor talk about penguins? “To be honest I was only physically there,” you admitted sheepishly and Eric laughed.
“Yeah, I could tell. I was sitting like, right behind you. You didn’t even notice.”
“Sorry,” you scrunched up your face in apology.
“Nah, it’s fine,” he naturally fell into step with you, “Are you headed home?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Got another lecture.”
“I see.”
For a moment it was quiet between the two of you, before Eric picked the conversation back up, “What are you doing Thursday?”
You raised an eyebrow, “Am I supposed to be doing something on Thursday?”
“My roomie and I are hosting a party, you should come.”
“I—uh,” your brain was already coming up with an excuse, but Eric wasn’t done talking yet,
“It seemed like you could use some distraction? And Jongho already said he wouldn’t be there, don’t worry—you know how he isn’t one to go out on a weekday.”
Neither am I, you wanted to argue, but Eric was right, wasn’t he? Maybe you could use some distraction. You yearned for a night of dancing and laughing and partying and not thinking about your ex.
“I’ll think about it?”
“Nice!” He grinned widely, “I’ll text you the address. Oh, and you should bring your friends along too—Wooyoung and San, right?”
“I just said I—” but he suddenly seemed to be in a rush to get to his lecture,
“I’ll see you there!” he said as if it was already a sure fact, and perhaps it was.
“Yeah, sure,” you sighed and watched him disappear, before you fished out your phone and opened the group chat.
Party on thursday @ eric’s you texted and it didn’t even take a minute before the replies came in
woo: noice
san: pregame at our place?
woo: U can come by at 6 y/nnie
The party was nice. The music was good and the people were friendly enough that it felt easy to mingle. Felix was there, too, as well as Changbin who immediately roped Wooyoung into a round of beer pong. They played against some of his friends that you didn’t know at first, before you were convinced to go up against them together with Eric’s roommate, Juyeon, in the next round.
Unfortunately you weren’t gifted at all and Juyeon wasn’t gifted enough to balance it out. You let out a sigh as your ball once again bounced off the rim of a cup before ultimately falling onto the table.
“We’ll get the next one,” Juyeon assured, but you both knew there wouldn’t be a next one, unless Wooyoung missed his shot too. He and Changbin already had you down to the last cup, and you could already feel the slight dizziness of the alcohol in your body.
“Hope you’re still thirsty,” Wooyoung teased with a grin as he lifted his hand to aim. You wanted to say something back, but right then someone walked through the door behind him. Jongho. What was he doing here? It was so unlike him to go out during the week. Why would he suddenly change things up?
His gaze flitted over the people in the room.
Wooyoung made his toss. The ball hit the rim of the cup, circling it once, twice.
Jongho’s eyes landed on you.
The ball dropped into the cup.
Juyeon said something consoling. Wooyoung and Changbin celebrated with a loud cheer and a tight hug. You felt like throwing up.
The winning team slid their remaining cups to your side of the table, while Jongho averted his gaze and made his way over to the kitchen area. You grabbed the first cup and downed it, hoping to swallow the sick feeling along with it, then the next and the next until there wasn’t a single one left. There was cheering and hollering, but you didn’t listen, nor did you care, because all that mattered was that Jongho was here.
“I could’ve emptied some too, you know? You didn’t have to drink by yourself,” Juyeon looked at you with a mixture of surprise and worry.
“I was just so thirsty?” You forced and laugh and wanted to playfully nudge his side, but the movement made you lose your balance that you only regained by grabbing onto the edge of the table, “Oh, oops,” you tried not to slur your speech, but you suddenly realized how drunk you were. It made you feel pathetic and embarrassed.
“Are you okay?” Juyeon’s hand hovered over your back, not quite touching you but ready to steady you if needed.
“I—uhm,” you still felt so sick, probably more so than before, because, unsurprisingly, beer wasn’t the best medicine for an upset stomach. You blinked, slowly. The world was spinning.
“I think you could use some fresh air,” Juyeon concluded and you just nodded stupidly. He led you towards one of the closed doors in the apartment, a bedroom, you realized, and then towards the full height window, that turned out to be a balcony door as you got closer.
You let out a marvelling “Oooh” as he opened the door and maneuvered you onto the bench outside.
“Wait here, I’ll get you a glass of water, alright?”
You nodded and somewhat registered him leaving, but your eyes were fixed onto the blinking lights of the city that laid before you like a carpet of stars. It was really beautiful. There was a flowerpot in the corner. Maybe you had to puke.
Jongho was on his way home when Sanha called him. He already figured it would be about Eric’s party before he even picked up—he’d seen the messages in their 00z group chat. He picked up with a sigh.
“Why are you even bothering? You know I won’t come,” he said instead of a greeting. Jongho didn’t like going out during the week, especially if he had an early lecture the next day like he did tomorrow.
Sanha huffed and Jongho could see his grin before his inner eye.
“What?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to change your mind,” his friend replied. Jongho could hear music and voices in the background, Sanha must’ve already arrived at Eric’s.
“How so?” He doubted there was anything Sanha could say now to make him come running, but he couldn’t deny that his curiosity was piqued, if only ever so slightly.
“Y/n is here.”
Jongho stopped in his tracks. That couldn’t be. Why would you be at Eric’s party? When he asked Sanha that exact question, the other seemed a lot less irritated by the fact.
“I suppose she was invited?”
“But why?! And why would she come?!”
“She probably accurately assumed that you wouldn’t come.”
No, fuck that. Jongho was definitely going. He had to. He turned around on the spot and walked back towards the bus station with quick steps. He wouldn’t make the next bus, but the one after it should work. “I’ll be there in 15, maybe 20 minutes.”
Sanha let out a laugh at the other end of the line, “I knew you’d say that. After all you even made me switch groups just to be on the s—”
“Shut up,” Jongho interrupted him, “Don’t talk about that when you and the whole world are at Eric’s right now. I don’t really need anyone to know.”
“Mhm,” Sanha hummed, “Just remember you still owe me that coffee.”
“Yeah, sure,” Jongho rolled his eyes. He’d reached the main street now and he could see the earlier bus at the intersection. As expected, he wasn’t going to make that one unless he ran.
“By the way, when did y/n get so chummy with Juyeon? Did they know each other?”
Jongho felt the breath being knocked out of his lungs, “What?”
“They’ve been talking for quite a while now, and she’s been laughing a lot. Since when is Juyeon funny?”
“He’s not.” Jongho hastened his steps, eyes fixed on the bus getting closer. Actually, he could probably still make that one.
“Right? Anyway it seems they’ve teamed up at beer pong.”
You sucked at beer pong. You’d probably get drunk. Or Juyeon could play the gentleman and drink for you and make you fall for his stupidly pretty face and tall frame. Yeah, no.
Jongho fell into a jog before he straight up started running while the bus was rolling into the stop. He made it just in time before the doors closed.
“You good?” Sanha asked when he heard his heavy breathing through the line.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in ten.”
“Ten suddenly?”
“Caught a bus earlier than expected.”
Sanha laughed. “Someone’s desperate.”
“Just shut up and have a drink ready for me.”
“Of course. See you in ten.” There was still amusement in his voice. Sanha seemed to be having a lot of fun at his expense.
When he arrived he marched right into a game of beer pong—Wooyoung and Changbin against you and Juyeon. Sanha was right, the two of you seemed chummy. Why? Since when? Did you get to know each other during the break? Your eyes met his for a brief moment. You seemed shocked, as if you truly hadn’t expected Jongho to be here, and if he was being truthful that hurt a little. A part of him had entertained this secret fantasy that maybe, possibly, you came tonight hoping to see him. After all, Eric was his friend. It made sense for Jongho to be here, more sense for him than for you. But you looked truly caught off guard with your wide eyes. And also a little drunk; Jongho could tell from the slight redness on your cheeks and forehead. It was cute—
He tore his gaze away. He needed a drink. And so did you it seemed, because he could see you emptying one cup after the other from his peripheral vision. He hadn’t wanted Juyeon to be your shining knight, hadn’t wanted you to have a chance to witness Juyeon’s cool side. But now, seeing you drink them all by yourself made him angry too. You were clearly drunk already, why was no one drinking for you?
Sanha pulled him out of his thoughts as he held a cup under Jongho’s nose.
“Your drink, as promised.”
Jongho took a huge swig of whatever was in there, “Yeah, thanks.” It left a slight burn in his throat.
“You just arrived and you already look ready to go home.”
“Well, I didn’t expect to walk straight into that.” He nodded towards the beer pong table. Juyeon’s hand was at the small of your back. The plastic cup crinkled under Jongho’s tightening grip.
“Easy, cowboy, you know you’re not y/n’s boyfriend anymore, right?”
Jongho shot him a death glare, “You know as well as I do that that whole break-up was bullshit.”
“I don’t think I’m equipped to have an opinion here,” Sanha replied vaguely, taking a sip of his own drink, “but whatever the case, you’re not back together.”
“Yet,” Jongho corrected. His eyes followed you as Juyeon led you away and Jongho had been at this apartment often enough to know the room you were just entering was Juyeon’s bedroom. His cup got crushed further beneath his fingers. That asshole. You were clearly way too drunk to consent.
“Hold this for a second,” he shoved his mangled cup at Sanha and then took big strides through the crowd of the party guests towards the door you just disappeared behind. Before he reached it though, it swung open again and Juyeon came out, almost stumbling into him. “Oh, sorry,” He looked slightly startled but seemed to catch up on Jongho having purposely followed him when the latter didn’t budge.
“Y/n is quite drunk,” Juyeon said as if it was a good explanation.
“I saw that,” His response was unnecessarily harsh, something he was aware of, but didn’t care to change.
“She’s out on the balcony. I was gonna get her some wa—”
“I’ll take care of it,” Jongho interrupted.
Juyeon seemed unsure for a moment, probably figuring out in his head if Jongho, the ex-boyfriend, could be trusted to take care of you, but ultimately nodded, perhaps driven by the insight that he himself, an almost stranger to you, was definitely a lesser choice. “Let me know if you need something e—”
“I won’t, thanks.” Jongho was already on his way back to the kitchen area to get a glass of water for you.
“Maybe take a bucket with you as well—”
“I can handle it.” Jongho didn’t know himself to be this snippy. But alas.
A few minutes later, he stepped out onto the balcony, glass of water in one hand and a big mixing bowl in the other (how was he supposed to know where they kept their buckets? And Eric was god-knows where and he definitely wasn’t going to ask Juyeon, because despite having been wrong about him taking advantage of your drunk state, he still felt somewhat upset just looking at the guy).
You were sitting on the bench, hugging one of the seat cushions to your chest as you stared into the night sky. You didn’t immediately turn your head to look at him, and even when you finally did it seemed to take you a moment to register that it was him. You blinked slowly, your gaze dropping to the glass in his hands and then back up to his face.
“Juyeon will bring me water,” you said and even though Jongho knew it was probably just because you were drunk, he was surprised by the softness in your voice. It’d been a while since you spoke to him without any underlying anger. Not that he’d been much better, though.
“I told him I’d do it.”
“Why would you?” Your speech was slightly slurred.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He handed you the glass and took it without letting go of the cushion, which made it look quite cumbersome. Still you managed to take a sip before trying to hand it back to him.
“Have some more,” Jongho suggested and you did so without complaints. He sat down on the bench next to you, on the side without a cushion, and wondered what he was doing here.
“Are you disappointed? That I showed up instead?”
You didn’t look up from the empty glass as you carefully placed it on the ground in front of your feet, only for Jongho to put it on the window sill instead to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally break it.
“No,” you finally replied.
Relief washed over him, as well as a sense of reason. If you didn’t mind him being here, if you didn’t prefer someone else taking care of you, then there was nothing wrong with him doing so.
“I puked into the flower pot,” you admitted out of nowhere, in between tiny sips of water, and Jongho was so caught off guard he let out a laugh. In a petty bout of jealousy he thought that Juyeon deserved the vomit in his flower pot.
“I missed that.”
He raised his eyebrow, “Missed what?”
“Your laugh.”
His chest hurt. “You don’t have to miss it.” You can have as much of it as you want. I’ll laugh all the time if that makes you come back.
“No, I do,” you closed your eyes and leaned back against the bench, “I can’t help myself.”
He wanted to hug you but he knew he couldn’t, so he just remained silent and looked at you.
Your eyelids fluttered before you opened them again, an odd determination in your eyes. You shoved the pillow aside and it fell to the floor. “Can you take me home?”
“Of course.”
He took your hand and helped you up from the bench and when he realized how wobbly you were on your feet, he wrapped one arm around your waist to steady you. He grabbed his things and your jacket on the way out, and then you were already in the elevator down. You didn’t run into anyone of interest (aside from Sanha who met his gaze with a raised eyebrow) and he was glad for that. He didn’t want to explain to anyone why he was here, why he was taking you home, and what he wanted even less was to hand you over to Wooyoung or San, who would surely think it was better for them to take you home. And maybe it was, but Jongho didn’t want to hand you over to anyone, didn’t want to give up this fragile moment of peace between the two of you.
When you stepped outside the building you took a deep breath, as if you hadn’t breathed fresh air in ages, as if you hadn’t just been on the balcony.
“This is nice.”
“Mhm,” he hummed.
“I’m gonna be sick,” and without warning you hunched over and puked in between the trash cans. He tried his best to keep your hair out of your face and slowly rubbed your back until you were done. It was gross, obviously, but a part of him felt nostalgic. It made him feel like your boyfriend again. Like a few semesters back, when you hadn’t quite figured out your tolerance yet and ended parties like this more often than not. And he would take care of you until you felt stable enough to walk home, and when you didn’t he’d carry you on his back and you’d whisper silly little I love you’s into his ear. As he rubbed your back, he wondered when you’d said it last, and if he’d hear it again.
He wiped your mouth with a tissue and gave you the bottle of water he’d still had in his backpack to let you rinse your mouth.
“Better?”
You nodded, “Better.”
“Can you walk?”
You seemed to consider for a moment, as if you were contemplating the correct answer, before you finally shook your head. He huffed a laugh. “Fine then.”
Jongho crouched down in front of you, the way he’d always done, making it easier for you to get on his back. His chest felt tight when you wrapped your arms around him.
And then he started walking, carrying you home because it wasn’t terribly far from here, and because that was what he’d always done. He felt you snuggle into him, tucking your face into his neck, and it was such a small gesture, something he’d considered so normal that he’d barely even noticed it, but now it felt like the world.
“Why didn’t you beg?” You mumble into the collar of his hoodie.
“What?”
“Why didn’t you say no? You could’ve—you could’ve just said no.”
“Hadn’t you already made up your mind? Weren’t you going to tear down the building either way?”
You shook your head, he assumed, and the movement of your hair felt ticklish against his skin. “I just—I wanted you to want me.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?” He looks straight ahead at the streetlights cutting through the darkness. “You know I wanted you.”
“But that’s different. You wanted me in a college way, not in a future wife way.”
It sounded so ridiculous he wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t, because this was about you and about his relationship and it was too important to laugh, no matter how ridiculous. “What does that mean?”
“It means you would’ve always left me, so I did it first.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Yeah,” you snuggled further into his neck as if your words weren’t even contradicting that display of affection in the slightest. Though, in your drunk and tired eyes it was probably more about being comfortable and less about showing any kind of affection. “You have your whole life ahead of you after all.”
“Y/n, we’re the same age.”
“But your future is worth more than mine.” You said it so matter of factly, like a truth you’d always known and secretly held onto, and maybe that was the most shocking part. Jongho stopped walking. He even almost dropped you, but remembered to hold on just in time.
“That’s bullshit,” he replied, but he already knew you’d disagree. You’d disagree and then explain to him the ways in which you were right, give arguments that had never even occurred to him. He’d never even considered the value of his life or future, nor had he ever thought to weigh it up against yours. And by what measure, anyway? What made a future more valuable? Who decided that?
You, apparently.
“It’s not. You’ll have your fancy,” you were interrupted by a hiccup, “job and drive a fancy,” another hiccup, “car and I will just,” another, “be me.” The last word slipped from your lips like an insult. “You would’ve left me anyway.”
“I wouldn’t have,” he insisted, “There is no just you. There is you. And I like you.”
“You used to love me, though.”
He did let out a small, huffed laugh now. “And I would say that I still do, if I thought you wanted to hear it.”
“I want to hear it.” Your breathing sounded really calm now, as if you were on the brink of falling asleep.
“I love you.”
He heard the sleepy smile in your voice as you replied, “Me too.”
The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the excruciating headache that only got worsened by the shrill sound of your alarm. You groaned and aimlessly fumbled with your phone until it finally stopped. This was why you didn’t like going out on weekdays.
After another ten minutes of drifting back to sleep, you tapped your phone screen to check the time. Almost 9. Fuck. You were going to miss the lecture. When you closed your eyes once more, hazy memories came back to you. Playing beer pong. Puking into Juyeon’s flower pot. Someone giving you water. Someone holding your hair. Someone carrying you on his back. Someone saying he loves you.
Jongho? You suddenly felt awake. Did that actually happen? Did you just dream it?
A message popped up on your phone screen.
Jongho: we need to talk
Double fuck.
You didn’t want to, but you forced yourself out of bed and into your shower. There’d been painkillers on the nightstand that you’d swallowed down with a big gulp of water and you thought they were already helping. When you finally got dressed and ready to go, your lecture was already halfway over. But you weren’t driving to campus for that lecture anyway.
You sat down on some stairs and waited for Jongho to come out. You needed this talk, as much as he did, probably. But you dreaded it too, confused by your own patchy memories and scared of that small hope inside of you getting crushed again. Still, you waited.
He didn’t smile when he spotted you, but he didn’t look upset either. It was something else, like insecurity and openness, feelings Jongho didn’t tend to wear on his sleeve.
“How are you feeling?” he asked when he plopped down beside you.
“Hungover.”
He chuckled, “I can imagine.”
“Scared, also.”
He frowned, “Of what?”
That you didn’t mean what you said yesterday. Or worse, that it was just a dream. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that. Not even now, so you shrugged instead.
He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on his own hands. Speaking didn’t seem to come easy to him either, and it made you feel closer to him, reminded you that he wasn’t this perfect entity but rather also just a person.
“Did you mean what you said yesterday?” he finally asked.
You didn’t remember half the things you said. “Which part?”
“All of them. That you wanted me to stop you. That you thought I’d be leaving you anyway,” he took a small breath, “That you love me.”
It felt like a now or never type of situation. If you weren’t going to be honest now, when would you? So you nodded. “Yes.”
“All of them?”
“...Yes.”
Jongho turned to look at you and there was so much hurt and vulnerability and desperation in his eyes, it almost made you feel sick to look at him because you knew this was your fault.
“I wasn’t going to leave,” he said and you think he said something like that yesterday too.
“I’m sorry,” you replied because it was the only thing you could come up with, “I’m sorry for not trusting you.”
“And I won’t leave now, either, if you don’t want me to.”
Your eyes widened, unable to quite grasp the meaning of his words.
“But you can’t break up with me again. Not unless you mean it.”
Tears were welling up in your eyes, and you knew you were still on campus and it wasn’t the best place to get emotional, but you didn’t care. “I’m sorry,” you whispered again with a wobbly voice.
“That’s not an answer.”
You sniffed, “I won’t. I won’t break up with you again.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He let out a breath, as if he’d been holding onto it for a long time.
“Good.” He took your hand and intertwined your fingers and it felt so good, so reassuring, so much like home to be connected to him like that again. He stared at your hands long and hard and it made you think he was probably thinking about the same thing. But then he said “You know your future isn’t actually less valuable than mine, right?”
You almost felt ashamed. Like a child that’d messed up. You knew the answer would be Yes but it would also be a lie, so you stayed silent.
“And to be honest, I’d much prefer to think of it as our future anyway.”
Ours. That sounded pretty nice. It sounded like a shared apartment and getting groceries and taking vacations together. It sounded like building a home. It sounded like being together.
“I’d like that.”
A smile spread on his lips before he connected them with yours. “Good,” he said again.
“Good,” you repeated.
masterlist | collab masterlist
thx for reading! pls consider reblogging & commenting <3
summary: Jongho was everything you weren’t: ambitious, diligent, promising—all in all the perfect law school student. Naturally, your chaos didn’t fit into his prearranged life. Not for long, anyway. Your silly little relationship was never meant to last. So how come you couldn't seem to move on? Of course, being grouped together for a semester-long assignment didn't exactly help your case.
tags: exes2lovers, law student!au, hurt/comfort, y/n lowkey has an inferiority complex, jongho is slightly possessive, best friends woosan (bc i love making them y/n's besties), some side characters from tbz/skz; warnings: alcohol consumption, throwing up
wc: 9.2k
a/n: this is my fic for the live alive collab hosted by @sungbeam! honestly i'm just so glad to have made it (or, well it's half past midnight in my time zone but i tried my best i swear t-t) i was really hoping my time management would be better for this, but honestly life wasn't really having it. either way, i hope you enjoy this story & pls check out the other fics for this collab!!
and also @ beam - thanks for letting me be part of this sweet collab. i'm glad to have had a good reason to write (and actually finish!!) something. love you lots<3
masterlist | collab masterlist
So maybe you'd overestimated what a two month break could do. You’d thought you'd use all that free time really well, to eat healthy and exercise and read more books. You’d also thought you'd be well ahead of all the assignments due during the break. And most of all you’d thought you'd come back after the break as a changed woman who is definitely not still hung up on her boyfriend that she broke up with right before the semester ended.
Reality however looked quite different: You'd eaten too much pizza, barely left the house, binge watched not only one but two TV shows, barely finished your assignments on time and spent an embarrassing amount of time crying over your boyfriend. Needless to say, you were most definitely still hung up on him.
Consequently, going back to school left you with mixed feelings. It all came down to a simple list of pros and cons, and you weren’t sure which side was weighing heavier.
Pros:
Getting away from your nagging parents.
Seeing your friends again.
Spending a fun last summer with them.
Cons:
Seeing Jongho.
Your friends are his friends too.
Whatever fun activities are planned, he’ll inevitably be there too.
It wasn’t that you suddenly hated him (surely, life would be easier if you could). But just the mere thought of facing him again ripped your heart in two. His words were still ringing in your head like he’d said them just yesterday. ‘Might as well end it now.’ As if it barely even concerned him. And just like that, it’d been over.
While it felt suffocating to be at home, you wanted to prolong your return as much as possible. For one to avoid Jongho for as long as you could. And then also to avoid your friends, most importantly your best friends. Because you hadn’t told them about the break up. You’d just pretended everything was fine right up until you sat in your train home. And then, the moment it had left the station you’d crumbled pathetically, sobbing so hard that a woman sitting in the seat before you handed you some tissues.
Of course you knew you couldn’t keep the break up a secret forever, but somehow talking about it was scary. Talking about it would make it real. Talking about it would maybe prompt your friends to tell you that you’d been stupid and that it was your fault, and you weren’t quite ready to hear that yet. Still, you couldn’t just postpone it all indefinitely and take the semester off, so you arrived back at the dorm one day before the lectures were starting again. Your room looked the way you’d left it. You hadn’t bothered taking any of your personal bits down while you were away, just packed what you needed and left—but when you set foot inside now, you were starting to regret that. You’d never noticed how much space Jongho had taken up in your room. There were pictures of him and you and your friends all over your pin board, along with tickets from when you’d been to the theater together. On your desk was a clover he’d given you before one of your exams (three leaves, not four, despite his best efforts to find one), that you’d pressed and safely displayed in a tiny picture frame. And then of course, on your bed, right next to your pillow was that teddy with its tiny head and broad shoulders that he’d gifted you for your last birthday and that you’d always joked looked exactly like him.
You wanted to throw it all away just so you didn’t have to look at it anymore. Instead, you curled up in bed, jeans and all, and cuddled that teddy close to your chest. You buried your nose in the soft material, pretending you could still smell him on it, when really it only smelled like you.
You must have fallen asleep at some point, because you woke up in the middle of the night, still in the clothes you’d worn all day, and with a terrible headache that kept you from falling asleep again. Since it seemed you weren’t going to catch much more sleep anyway, you stepped outside. The halls of the dormitory had been noisy and bustling earlier, everyone eagerly greeting each other and catching up after the long break. But now it was eerily quiet. Maybe everyone had suddenly come to respect the curfew, or maybe they’d decided to take it easy tonight since lectures would start tomorrow, and there’d be a huge party to kick off the semester on Friday anyway.
As you wandered the corridor, it took you back to the last day before the break. You’d aimlessly wandered back then too, unable to sleep after your conversation with Jongho, but not able to cry either. Not yet, anyway, because it hadn’t sunken in yet. It’d felt surreal at the time, like you half expected Jongho to show up at your dorm the next day to inform you that the break up was of course not actually happening. You could picture it so well, him standing there first thing in the morning, early enough to still catch the 9 AM train to his family home, making sure to tell you that you’re still dating, so you wouldn’t have stupid thoughts while on break. Jongho was like that, preferring clarity over leaving you guessing. That day though, he hadn’t shown up, and maybe that was a way of making things clear, too. You’d watched the clock ticking away, 9 AM passing you by, but you’d still held onto some hope until the afternoon, when it was time for your own departure. And even then, a delusional part of you was thinking maybe he’d show up at the platform to apologize and he’d hold you so close and you’d hug him right back, and he’d tell you to let go because you’d miss your train, but you wouldn’t even care because all that mattered was that Jongho still loved you.
It was only when the train had started departing and the people at the platform started blurring behind the window as you passed them by, that it finally sunk in. Jongho hadn’t come. He’d let you leave just like that, with a two month break ahead of you to cement the fact that you’d broken up. He was no longer your boyfriend. And with that realization came the tears, and it seemed they hadn’t really stopped since then.
By the time you wandered back to your room, it was already getting light outside, the sunrise dying the sky in shades of pink and purple that were too beautiful to match your mood. You closed the blinds to shut them out and sunk back into your bed.
It seemed sleep had eventually found you again. In fact, you slept so deeply that you didn’t hear any of your three alarms and completely missed your first lecture. Luckily, you had a really good friend, and he wasn’t shy to remind you when you met him at the cafeteria in between classes.
“You’d be so doomed without me,” he said instead of a greeting, “but of course, your best friend in the world made sure to answer roll call for you and even signed you up for the group project.”
“Thanks, Wooyoung,” you set down a cup of coffee in front of him as a means of compensation, “I owe you my life.”
“You really do. That prof is no joke, you know?”
“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed, taking a sip of your own cup.
“What’s been up with you anyway? We’ve barely heard of you all break. San was this,” he made a pinching motion with his fingers, “close to borrowing his mom’s car and driving over there to make sure you’re still alive.”
“That’d be a 10 hour ride.”
“That’s how much we love you.” Wooyoung rested his chin on his hand and eyed you intensely, “So, will you tell me what’s up?”
“I’ve been stressed out over the assignments?” You already knew it was a poor excuse before he called you out for it.
“I know that’s not it. Just tell me. I promise it will be okay.”
All his silly jokes and teasing aside, Wooyoung was a good friend and a good listener. But it still felt hard to put the words out there. It made you fell as if you were sitting in that train all over again, watching the people and the platform disappear, and your relationship with them.
“We broke up,” you finally said, immediately taking another sip of your coffee hoping it could wash down the taste of heartbreak lingering on your tongue.
You raised an eyebrow at him, “Who would joke about something like that?”
He shrugged, “You’ve become pretty unpredictable, so who knows?”
“Oh, yes, I’m an enigma.” You rolled your eyes and the little banter helped you shove your actual feelings aside, pretending it all didn’t phase you as much as it really did. Wooyoung looked at you for another moment, clearly seeing right through you, but not commenting on it.
“But, uhm, if it’s true, then I have some sort of bad news for you,” he admitted reluctantly, his expression sheepish.
“Spill.”
“So, uh, remember how I said I signed you up for the group project?”
“No.”
“It’s supposed to be groups of four—”
“No, Wooyoung, please.”
“And San and I didn’t know—remember? You kept this incredibly relevant information from us, your best friends in the world—and we had to make a decision—”
“No, no, no—”
“It just made sense to group up.”
Great. Amazing. Splendid. You were stuck working on an assignment with your ex-boyfriend. all. semester.
“How is this my life?” You dropped your head in your hands, “And how come he didn’t protest either?”
“Ah, right,” Wooyoung seemed to only realize now that you were lacking this information, “Jongho wasn’t present either. Saved his ass during roll call, too, but I guess that’s not really of much interest to you.”
“No, Jung Wooyoung, it is not of much interest to me in the face of this whole group project disaster.” Though, you did have to admit that it was highly unusual for Jongho, ambitious, diligent Jongho, to miss a class unexcused.
“Understandable,” he nodded, “But maybe we can still switch groups?”
“Who would even switch with me? I don’t have other friends.”
He grinned. “But I do. Changbin is in that class too, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking your place. And he’s grouped up with Felix, you know Felix, right?”
You do know Felix. You like him too, though you wouldn’t go as far as to call him a friend. Still, being grouped with sweet, kind Felix would be much better than having to spend the whole semester working with Jongho.
“Would you ask him?”
“Anything for my bestie,” Wooyoung looked at you with an encouraging smile, “I’m sure it will work out just fine.”
Maybe switching groups wasn’t all that big of a deal, or maybe Changbin just liked Wooyoung enough to agree easily—either way, just two days later your friend assured you that the groups were changed without any issues, and Felix had even notified the professor of the changes already. He generally seemed to have taken up some kind of leading role, because you received a message from him that same day, informing you that the group had agreed to meet up the next Tuesday to make a plan for the semester, and asked if you could make it as well. Tuesday was fine with you, and honestly, even if it weren’t you would’ve tried your best to adjust your schedule to them out of gratitude for taking you in. According to Wooyoung, aside from Felix it was Eric and Sanha in that group, and because they were close to Jongho, you’d already talked to them quite a few times back when you’d still been dating. You remembered them as being pretty friendly and fun to be around and you just hoped their friendship with your ex-boyfriend didn’t make things awkward. Though, even then, it seemed like a much better choice to work with his friends instead of the man himself.
Maybe it was that silly optimism of yours that jinxed your demise. Because surely enough, when you stepped into the café across campus on Tuesday, the guy sitting next to Eric at the table Felix had reserved looked uncomfortably familiar: It was Jongho. Even from a distance and a slightly awkward angle, you recognized him right away. His dark brown hair, the black frames of his glasses, the neatly ironed collar of his shirt. It didn’t make sense. Why would Jongho bother showing up to the meeting of your project group? Even if he was friends with Eric and Sanha—shouldn’t he have the tactfulness to stay away after you went as far as to switch groups (something you were safe to assume wasn’t only in your interest, but his as well)?
You wanted to turn around and leave, maybe send a message that you’d suddenly started to feel unwell, or at least come back with a little delay in hopes Jongho would’ve left by then, but before you could do any of that, someone called your name.
“Hey there!” Felix greeted you with a bright smile, looking genuinely happy to see you again. He had a tray in his hands, four cups you noted, which meant either they’d already ordered for you as well, or a certain guest was planning to stick around for at least one coffee. You hadn’t seen Sanha around yet either, which filled your stomach with a feeling of unease.
“Hey,” you nodded awkwardly, “do you need help carrying that?”
“Nah, don’t worry. Just follow me, the rest is already there,” he naturally leads the way towards the dreaded table, “I hope you don’t mind we ordered for you,” he added, “Matcha with oat milk.”
“Oh.” Your gaze lingered on the cup you assumed to be yours, “Thank you.” Jongho must’ve told him your usual order. How else would Felix, or Eric for that matter, know? And despite the anger you still felt about Jongho being there in the first place, knowing he cared enough to order for you, knowing he cared enough to remember, awakened something else in the depth of your stomach. You quickly pushed it aside. It was just routine, it didn’t mean anything. Felix must’ve asked him if he knew your order, and he must’ve replied automatically, without giving it much thought or care. (But didn’t that have its own value too? Didn’t it feel inherently meaningful that your habits have become so ingrained in his very being, that he could recite them without thinking?)
“Y/n!” Eric pulled you out of your thoughts as you approached the table, a wide grin on his face, “Man, it’s been ages since I’ve seen you last, how have you been?” He got up and hugged you so naturally and friendly, it made you wonder if he even knew about the break up. You didn’t dare to ask though, didn’t want to bring up that awful topic so you just hugged him back, told him you’d been great and left it at that. You sat down across from him, next to Felix and at the biggest possible distance from Jongho. You’d wanted to glare at him, ask him why the fuck he was here, but now that you were actually close enough to talk to him for the first time since the end of last semester, it suddenly felt hard to even look at him. So, you focused on your matcha instead that Felix had placed in front of you, appreciating the latte art that fittingly almost looked like a clover.
“When’s Sanha joining us?” You asked, trying to come off as casual and relaxed and driving home that air of nonchalance by taking a sip of your drink.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Eric sounded surprised. “Him and Jongho switched groups.”
You choked so badly on your matcha you almost spat it in his face, and gratefully accepted the tissue that was handed to you, before even realizing it was Jongho who handed it to you.
“It’s a good thing though,” Eric easily continued, “I love Sanha, but I think with Jongho in our group we have a pretty good chance of getting an A+, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” you were still barely able to breathe, “Right.”
You tried your best to keep it together while Eric and Felix were there, focusing on the project and assigning tasks for everyone until the next meet up. The moment they left though, and it was just you, who’d purposely lingered, and Jongho who, for some reason, had stayed behind as well, you exploded.
“What the fuck?!” You hissed, quiet enough not to make a scene, but not holding back any of the anger seeping into your voice.
“Someone’s angry, huh?”
You wanted to spit in his annoyingly composed face. How could he remain this calm? Did seeing you again not phase him at all?
“Of course I’m angry! Why did you change groups?!”
He shrugged, “I could ask you the same, no?”
“You could’ve at least said something! Then I wouldn’t have bothered switching!”
“You didn’t say anything either,” A grin slipped onto his features, “And considering these are my friends, couldn’t you have anticipated this to happen? Did you maybe want to work with me?”
Maybe you hadn’t thought this through. Why hadn’t this occurred to you? But then why didn’t he tell anyone? If not you, why not at least Wooyoung and San? After all, it concerned them, too! You shoved the last of your notes into your bag, not caring at all about the way the paper crinkled beneath your fingers.
“Whatever, guess I’ll just have to change back.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure the professor will love that. He already seemed mildly annoyed about switching the groups once, I’m sure doing it again will leave a great impression,” he handed you your ballpoint pen that you hadn’t realized was still laying on the table, “We’ve already distributed tasks anyway, just roll with it. Switching now will just make more work for everyone.”
He was right. Of course, he was right. Perfect, smart Jongho tended to be right about everything. Guess you were stuck with Jongho in your project group, again.
“Don’t kill me for saying this, and I do feel so sorry—but this situation is also kind of hilarious,” Wooyoung looked at you with mirth in his eyes, while San next to him was slurping up his ramyeon without much care.
“No, I absolutely will kill you, how is this hilarious?!”
“I mean—both of you switching groups to avoid each other and then ending up in the same group again? That must be some crazy fate.”
“Yeah, right, fate, or maybe a certain someone,” you stared him down extra hard, “isn’t as close to his friends as he thinks he is, or else I’m sure Changbin would’ve told you about this and we could’ve avoided the whole mess.”
“Honestly,” San intervened, mouth still full, “even Changbin seemed surprised when Sanha showed up to the group meet up. Jongho must’ve just given him the time and place and left it at that.”
Huh. “That’s—weird.” Jongho was usually a bit more…organized? Than that? Normally, he would’ve at least given someone in his group a heads up, wouldn’t he?
“Hm,” Wooyoung hummed, a small encouraging smile on his face, “I suppose he’s struggling with the break up just as much as you are.”
That thought honestly made you feel a little better. You weren’t the only one having a hard time. Jongho was struggling too. Why else would he have bothered to switch groups in the first place?
“To be honest though—I’m still confused about the break up. I get if you don’t want to talk about it, but it feels so sudden. Weren’t you still all over each other at the end of the semester? What happened?”
“Yeah,” San echoed as he finished the last of his noodles, “What happened?”
You chewed on your lower lip, unsure what to say, “It’s just…. He’s an ass?”
“Oh, god,” Wooyoung’s jaw tensed, “if he cheated on you I’ll literally kill him.”
“No!” You sighed. “He didn’t cheat.”
“Thank god, I’m not ready to defend someone in court,” San let out a breath of relief, “Especially not for murder. Because, legally, this wouldn’t even be manslaughter.”
“It’d definitely be manslaughter. It’d be all the heat of the moment, a non-malicious crime of passion. Not that I’d be dumb enough to get caught.”
“It would not be manslaughter,” you agreed with San, “but there’s no killing happening anyway. As I said, he didn’t cheat.”
Wooyoung didn’t seem really convinced as he eyed you critically. “Then why? What happened?”
“It just wasn’t meant to be,” you shrugged, unable to meet his gaze, in fear he’d see right through you and the fact that the break up was all your fault. “Why are you so surprised? You didn’t even like him when we first started dating.”
“I didn’t not like him!”
“You called him a stuck up prick.”
“A silver spoon snob, too,” San added.
“Why are y’all ganging up on me?” He huffed in offense, “And that was all just because I thought I needed to protect you! Before I knew how cute he actually is behind that serious face.”
“You date him then.”
“Nah, my bestie’s ex is off limits.”
“Right,” you rolled your eyes at him, “If that’s all that’s stopping you, then you have my blessings.”
Wooyoung grinned, “Don’t regret that later when you’ll inevitably want him back.”
“I won’t.” What a stupid lie, when you’d never wanted to break up in the first place. But what right did you even have to want him back?
“Besides,” Wooyoung added, “until I hear a proper reason for the break up, I doubt the legal validity of it. In my books you’re still married until proven otherwise.”
“Isn’t the fact that we both wanted to avoid each other so bad we switched groups proof enough that we’re over for good?”
“Nice try, mittens. You switched groups precisely because you’re not over at all.”
Working in a group with Jongho was exhausting. Eric had a point—chances of getting an A+ with Jongho wasn’t unlikely, after all he was a perfectionist. Unfortunately though, he made that everyone’s business. As you analyzed the case your group was given for the assignment, he nitpicked every little detail, to make sure you weren’t missing anything. And maybe, under different circumstances, you could’ve appreciated it. Jongho wasn’t usually rude or harsh about his criticism, just honest. But with everything that had happened between the two of you, it felt hard not to take every little comment personally. Even when you knew his criticism was valid, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling like he was judging your work more harshly than anyone else’s out of the grudge he held for you. So, you argued back, pathetically defended your stance as if it was a client you knew all too well was guilty and yet pleaded innocent.
“The buildings shared a wall, Neighbour B should’ve informed Neighbour A before tearing it down,” Jongho calmly stated and you knew he had a point. You knew, and yet—
“It was B’s property, why would they have to inform anyone about a decision that only concerns their building?” you shot back, less calm, less collected, less fit to be a good lawyer.
“It does concern the other party, though. They suffered damages,” Jongho frowned, and you could tell by the expression on Felix’ and Eric’s faces that they felt uncomfortable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to back down.
“It’s not like A would’ve had any right to stop them, so why make a big deal out of it before anything even happened? It wouldn’t have changed anything!”
“Right,” he huffed, “Why bother talking about things, when the decision was already made, huh?” Something flashed through Jongho’s eyes, bitter, hurt, angry.
Felix cleared his throat, “Uhm, guys, are we still talking about the case?”
The mask of indifference returned to Jongho’s face, “Obviously.”
“What else would we be talking about,” you added, but your voice was barely convincing. Truthfully, you didn’t know. It didn’t feel like it.
Once the group session was concluded you hurried to pack up your things, this time not at all interested in staying back with Jongho again, but it seemed you weren’t getting much of a choice. The second you’d stuffed everything into your back, you bid them farewell and rushed out of the café, but Jongho easily caught up to you.
“Let’s talk.”
“I don’t have anything to talk about,” you replied with a dry voice, starting to make your way towards the campus.
“Well, then just listen. Because I have something to talk about.”
You rolled your eyes but still stopped and turned around to look at him. “Let’s hear it then.”
“I know we broke up,” he started and it felt like the worst way to start a conversation, honestly, “But that doesn’t mean you can sabotage the group.”
“I’m not sabotaging anything.”
“You get snippy whenever I criticize anything.”
You want to kill him. For a brief moment you feel like maybe, breaking up was the right choice. “Maybe your criticism isn’t all that great, Jongho, ever considered that? Maybe you are not actually smarter than everyone else.”
You didn’t truly believe what you were saying but he was stunned for a moment and then, to your surprise, shrugged. “Fair enough. Still, I’d prefer not to have arguments in the group that feel so personal.”
“Well, I’m sorry for having feelings. Not surprising that you can’t relate to that though.”
His face hardened ever so slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that just because you can pretend the break up didn’t happen and are completely fine, the same doesn’t have to apply to me.”
“Well, just because I’m not dealing with it the same way as you doesn’t mean I don’t care at all!” His face was gleaming with an anger so intense, it might’ve scared you under different circumstances. But right now you felt smug about finally breaking his mask of calm indifference. It was satisfying. Maybe you couldn’t make him love you, but you at least still mattered enough to make him angry.
“And besides,” he continued, “Y/n, you broke up with me! You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
And he was right. It was you who'd said the words first. But you'd never meant them, not really. You'd just felt so inadequate, like a stain on Jongho's perfect life. He'd always been just a little bit too perfect to be a real person; prestigous family, flawless CV, perfect grades, and despite all that somehow still a loveable personality. You on the other hand were lacking both brains and ambition, only studying law to somehow satisfy your parents despite knowing they would never be satisfied anyway. And then, when Jongho had gotten a job offer at a renown law firm at the end of last semester while you struggled to even get internships, you'd felt you'd lost your place next to him once and for all. So you'd asked him to break up, not because that was what you'd wanted, but because you'd hoped he would stop you and assure you of your right to remain by his side. But instead, when you'd spit your stupid lies about how we'd never last in the real world anyway, he'd just huffed a laugh. Sure, he'd said, Might as well end it now.
You swallowed around the lump clogging your throat. “Maybe I broke up, but you sure had no qualms agreeing to it."
"What?” He let out a sarcastic laugh, “Should I have begged for you to stay?"
"Yes! Yes, you should have!" A timid ‘why didn’t you?’ hung in the air, unspoken.
There was defeat in his voice when he finally spoke up again, "You didn't want me, y/n."
He couldn’t be further from the truth. "I always wanted you." You’d just needed assurance, needed to know he wanted you enough to fight for you. But he didn’t.
In your peripheral vision, you spotted Felix and Eric coming out of the café as well. Felix headed down the street, but Eric was coming your way. Jongho must’ve spotted him too, by the way his demeanor seemed to change at the blink of an eye. It was a subtle shift, maybe not even noticeable to anyone else. But you noticed in the way he let go of the tension in his jaw, in the way the anger disappeared from his eyes.
"Then you shouldn’t have broken up with me," was all he said, calm, definite, the end of a conversation. And of course he was right, as he always was: you shouldn’t have. But why didn’t he call you out on it? Why didn’t he say you don’t mean that, so you could’ve said you’re right, you always are. But maybe the fact you wanted him to take responsibility for your behavior, wanted him to make up for the mistake you made, was one of the reasons he’d decided to go along with it instead.Because who would want to date a person like that?
"All good?" You heard Eric ask as he approached the two of you.
"Yeah, no worries." Jongho’s response barely reached you, like the tears welling up in your eyes were clogging your ears, too.
Right. You trailed behind them, not particularly caring about joining their conversation and rather focusing on keeping yourself from crying. No worries. The words rang in your head like they were mocking you. As if all of this meant nothing, was nothing to worry about. But maybe those were his true feelings. Might as well end it now, right?
When you got out of your last lecture of the day, still sorta out of it, you were suddenly met with a bubbly Eric jogging up next to you.
He grinned, “Did you enjoy the lecture as much as I did?”
“Uh, yeah, totally.”
“I especially loved the part where he talked about penguins.”
Why would your criminal law professor talk about penguins? “To be honest I was only physically there,” you admitted sheepishly and Eric laughed.
“Yeah, I could tell. I was sitting like, right behind you. You didn’t even notice.”
“Sorry,” you scrunched up your face in apology.
“Nah, it’s fine,” he naturally fell into step with you, “Are you headed home?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Got another lecture.”
“I see.”
For a moment it was quiet between the two of you, before Eric picked the conversation back up, “What are you doing Thursday?”
You raised an eyebrow, “Am I supposed to be doing something on Thursday?”
“My roomie and I are hosting a party, you should come.”
“I—uh,” your brain was already coming up with an excuse, but Eric wasn’t done talking yet,
“It seemed like you could use some distraction? And Jongho already said he wouldn’t be there, don’t worry—you know how he isn’t one to go out on a weekday.”
Neither am I, you wanted to argue, but Eric was right, wasn’t he? Maybe you could use some distraction. You yearned for a night of dancing and laughing and partying and not thinking about your ex.
“I’ll think about it?”
“Nice!” He grinned widely, “I’ll text you the address. Oh, and you should bring your friends along too—Wooyoung and San, right?”
“I just said I—” but he suddenly seemed to be in a rush to get to his lecture,
“I’ll see you there!” he said as if it was already a sure fact, and perhaps it was.
“Yeah, sure,” you sighed and watched him disappear, before you fished out your phone and opened the group chat.
Party on thursday @ eric’s you texted and it didn’t even take a minute before the replies came in
woo: noice
san: pregame at our place?
woo: U can come by at 6 y/nnie
The party was nice. The music was good and the people were friendly enough that it felt easy to mingle. Felix was there, too, as well as Changbin who immediately roped Wooyoung into a round of beer pong. They played against some of his friends that you didn’t know at first, before you were convinced to go up against them together with Eric’s roommate, Juyeon, in the next round.
Unfortunately you weren’t gifted at all and Juyeon wasn’t gifted enough to balance it out. You let out a sigh as your ball once again bounced off the rim of a cup before ultimately falling onto the table.
“We’ll get the next one,” Juyeon assured, but you both knew there wouldn’t be a next one, unless Wooyoung missed his shot too. He and Changbin already had you down to the last cup, and you could already feel the slight dizziness of the alcohol in your body.
“Hope you’re still thirsty,” Wooyoung teased with a grin as he lifted his hand to aim. You wanted to say something back, but right then someone walked through the door behind him. Jongho. What was he doing here? It was so unlike him to go out during the week. Why would he suddenly change things up?
His gaze flitted over the people in the room.
Wooyoung made his toss. The ball hit the rim of the cup, circling it once, twice.
Jongho’s eyes landed on you.
The ball dropped into the cup.
Juyeon said something consoling. Wooyoung and Changbin celebrated with a loud cheer and a tight hug. You felt like throwing up.
The winning team slid their remaining cups to your side of the table, while Jongho averted his gaze and made his way over to the kitchen area. You grabbed the first cup and downed it, hoping to swallow the sick feeling along with it, then the next and the next until there wasn’t a single one left. There was cheering and hollering, but you didn’t listen, nor did you care, because all that mattered was that Jongho was here.
“I could’ve emptied some too, you know? You didn’t have to drink by yourself,” Juyeon looked at you with a mixture of surprise and worry.
“I was just so thirsty?” You forced and laugh and wanted to playfully nudge his side, but the movement made you lose your balance that you only regained by grabbing onto the edge of the table, “Oh, oops,” you tried not to slur your speech, but you suddenly realized how drunk you were. It made you feel pathetic and embarrassed.
“Are you okay?” Juyeon’s hand hovered over your back, not quite touching you but ready to steady you if needed.
“I—uhm,” you still felt so sick, probably more so than before, because, unsurprisingly, beer wasn’t the best medicine for an upset stomach. You blinked, slowly. The world was spinning.
“I think you could use some fresh air,” Juyeon concluded and you just nodded stupidly. He led you towards one of the closed doors in the apartment, a bedroom, you realized, and then towards the full height window, that turned out to be a balcony door as you got closer.
You let out a marvelling “Oooh” as he opened the door and maneuvered you onto the bench outside.
“Wait here, I’ll get you a glass of water, alright?”
You nodded and somewhat registered him leaving, but your eyes were fixed onto the blinking lights of the city that laid before you like a carpet of stars. It was really beautiful. There was a flowerpot in the corner. Maybe you had to puke.
Jongho was on his way home when Sanha called him. He already figured it would be about Eric’s party before he even picked up—he’d seen the messages in their 00z group chat. He picked up with a sigh.
“Why are you even bothering? You know I won’t come,” he said instead of a greeting. Jongho didn’t like going out during the week, especially if he had an early lecture the next day like he did tomorrow.
Sanha huffed and Jongho could see his grin before his inner eye.
“What?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to change your mind,” his friend replied. Jongho could hear music and voices in the background, Sanha must’ve already arrived at Eric’s.
“How so?” He doubted there was anything Sanha could say now to make him come running, but he couldn’t deny that his curiosity was piqued, if only ever so slightly.
“Y/n is here.”
Jongho stopped in his tracks. That couldn’t be. Why would you be at Eric’s party? When he asked Sanha that exact question, the other seemed a lot less irritated by the fact.
“I suppose she was invited?”
“But why?! And why would she come?!”
“She probably accurately assumed that you wouldn’t come.”
No, fuck that. Jongho was definitely going. He had to. He turned around on the spot and walked back towards the bus station with quick steps. He wouldn’t make the next bus, but the one after it should work. “I’ll be there in 15, maybe 20 minutes.”
Sanha let out a laugh at the other end of the line, “I knew you’d say that. After all you even made me switch groups just to be on the s—”
“Shut up,” Jongho interrupted him, “Don’t talk about that when you and the whole world are at Eric’s right now. I don’t really need anyone to know.”
“Mhm,” Sanha hummed, “Just remember you still owe me that coffee.”
“Yeah, sure,” Jongho rolled his eyes. He’d reached the main street now and he could see the earlier bus at the intersection. As expected, he wasn’t going to make that one unless he ran.
“By the way, when did y/n get so chummy with Juyeon? Did they know each other?”
Jongho felt the breath being knocked out of his lungs, “What?”
“They’ve been talking for quite a while now, and she’s been laughing a lot. Since when is Juyeon funny?”
“He’s not.” Jongho hastened his steps, eyes fixed on the bus getting closer. Actually, he could probably still make that one.
“Right? Anyway it seems they’ve teamed up at beer pong.”
You sucked at beer pong. You’d probably get drunk. Or Juyeon could play the gentleman and drink for you and make you fall for his stupidly pretty face and tall frame. Yeah, no.
Jongho fell into a jog before he straight up started running while the bus was rolling into the stop. He made it just in time before the doors closed.
“You good?” Sanha asked when he heard his heavy breathing through the line.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in ten.”
“Ten suddenly?”
“Caught a bus earlier than expected.”
Sanha laughed. “Someone’s desperate.”
“Just shut up and have a drink ready for me.”
“Of course. See you in ten.” There was still amusement in his voice. Sanha seemed to be having a lot of fun at his expense.
When he arrived he marched right into a game of beer pong—Wooyoung and Changbin against you and Juyeon. Sanha was right, the two of you seemed chummy. Why? Since when? Did you get to know each other during the break? Your eyes met his for a brief moment. You seemed shocked, as if you truly hadn’t expected Jongho to be here, and if he was being truthful that hurt a little. A part of him had entertained this secret fantasy that maybe, possibly, you came tonight hoping to see him. After all, Eric was his friend. It made sense for Jongho to be here, more sense for him than for you. But you looked truly caught off guard with your wide eyes. And also a little drunk; Jongho could tell from the slight redness on your cheeks and forehead. It was cute—
He tore his gaze away. He needed a drink. And so did you it seemed, because he could see you emptying one cup after the other from his peripheral vision. He hadn’t wanted Juyeon to be your shining knight, hadn’t wanted you to have a chance to witness Juyeon’s cool side. But now, seeing you drink them all by yourself made him angry too. You were clearly drunk already, why was no one drinking for you?
Sanha pulled him out of his thoughts as he held a cup under Jongho’s nose.
“Your drink, as promised.”
Jongho took a huge swig of whatever was in there, “Yeah, thanks.” It left a slight burn in his throat.
“You just arrived and you already look ready to go home.”
“Well, I didn’t expect to walk straight into that.” He nodded towards the beer pong table. Juyeon’s hand was at the small of your back. The plastic cup crinkled under Jongho’s tightening grip.
“Easy, cowboy, you know you’re not y/n’s boyfriend anymore, right?”
Jongho shot him a death glare, “You know as well as I do that that whole break-up was bullshit.”
“I don’t think I’m equipped to have an opinion here,” Sanha replied vaguely, taking a sip of his own drink, “but whatever the case, you’re not back together.”
“Yet,” Jongho corrected. His eyes followed you as Juyeon led you away and Jongho had been at this apartment often enough to know the room you were just entering was Juyeon’s bedroom. His cup got crushed further beneath his fingers. That asshole. You were clearly way too drunk to consent.
“Hold this for a second,” he shoved his mangled cup at Sanha and then took big strides through the crowd of the party guests towards the door you just disappeared behind. Before he reached it though, it swung open again and Juyeon came out, almost stumbling into him. “Oh, sorry,” He looked slightly startled but seemed to catch up on Jongho having purposely followed him when the latter didn’t budge.
“Y/n is quite drunk,” Juyeon said as if it was a good explanation.
“I saw that,” His response was unnecessarily harsh, something he was aware of, but didn’t care to change.
“She’s out on the balcony. I was gonna get her some wa—”
“I’ll take care of it,” Jongho interrupted.
Juyeon seemed unsure for a moment, probably figuring out in his head if Jongho, the ex-boyfriend, could be trusted to take care of you, but ultimately nodded, perhaps driven by the insight that he himself, an almost stranger to you, was definitely a lesser choice. “Let me know if you need something e—”
“I won’t, thanks.” Jongho was already on his way back to the kitchen area to get a glass of water for you.
“Maybe take a bucket with you as well—”
“I can handle it.” Jongho didn’t know himself to be this snippy. But alas.
A few minutes later, he stepped out onto the balcony, glass of water in one hand and a big mixing bowl in the other (how was he supposed to know where they kept their buckets? And Eric was god-knows where and he definitely wasn’t going to ask Juyeon, because despite having been wrong about him taking advantage of your drunk state, he still felt somewhat upset just looking at the guy).
You were sitting on the bench, hugging one of the seat cushions to your chest as you stared into the night sky. You didn’t immediately turn your head to look at him, and even when you finally did it seemed to take you a moment to register that it was him. You blinked slowly, your gaze dropping to the glass in his hands and then back up to his face.
“Juyeon will bring me water,” you said and even though Jongho knew it was probably just because you were drunk, he was surprised by the softness in your voice. It’d been a while since you spoke to him without any underlying anger. Not that he’d been much better, though.
“I told him I’d do it.”
“Why would you?” Your speech was slightly slurred.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He handed you the glass and took it without letting go of the cushion, which made it look quite cumbersome. Still you managed to take a sip before trying to hand it back to him.
“Have some more,” Jongho suggested and you did so without complaints. He sat down on the bench next to you, on the side without a cushion, and wondered what he was doing here.
“Are you disappointed? That I showed up instead?”
You didn’t look up from the empty glass as you carefully placed it on the ground in front of your feet, only for Jongho to put it on the window sill instead to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally break it.
“No,” you finally replied.
Relief washed over him, as well as a sense of reason. If you didn’t mind him being here, if you didn’t prefer someone else taking care of you, then there was nothing wrong with him doing so.
“I puked into the flower pot,” you admitted out of nowhere, in between tiny sips of water, and Jongho was so caught off guard he let out a laugh. In a petty bout of jealousy he thought that Juyeon deserved the vomit in his flower pot.
“I missed that.”
He raised his eyebrow, “Missed what?”
“Your laugh.”
His chest hurt. “You don’t have to miss it.” You can have as much of it as you want. I’ll laugh all the time if that makes you come back.
“No, I do,” you closed your eyes and leaned back against the bench, “I can’t help myself.”
He wanted to hug you but he knew he couldn’t, so he just remained silent and looked at you.
Your eyelids fluttered before you opened them again, an odd determination in your eyes. You shoved the pillow aside and it fell to the floor. “Can you take me home?”
“Of course.”
He took your hand and helped you up from the bench and when he realized how wobbly you were on your feet, he wrapped one arm around your waist to steady you. He grabbed his things and your jacket on the way out, and then you were already in the elevator down. You didn’t run into anyone of interest (aside from Sanha who met his gaze with a raised eyebrow) and he was glad for that. He didn’t want to explain to anyone why he was here, why he was taking you home, and what he wanted even less was to hand you over to Wooyoung or San, who would surely think it was better for them to take you home. And maybe it was, but Jongho didn’t want to hand you over to anyone, didn’t want to give up this fragile moment of peace between the two of you.
When you stepped outside the building you took a deep breath, as if you hadn’t breathed fresh air in ages, as if you hadn’t just been on the balcony.
“This is nice.”
“Mhm,” he hummed.
“I’m gonna be sick,” and without warning you hunched over and puked in between the trash cans. He tried his best to keep your hair out of your face and slowly rubbed your back until you were done. It was gross, obviously, but a part of him felt nostalgic. It made him feel like your boyfriend again. Like a few semesters back, when you hadn’t quite figured out your tolerance yet and ended parties like this more often than not. And he would take care of you until you felt stable enough to walk home, and when you didn’t he’d carry you on his back and you’d whisper silly little I love you’s into his ear. As he rubbed your back, he wondered when you’d said it last, and if he’d hear it again.
He wiped your mouth with a tissue and gave you the bottle of water he’d still had in his backpack to let you rinse your mouth.
“Better?”
You nodded, “Better.”
“Can you walk?”
You seemed to consider for a moment, as if you were contemplating the correct answer, before you finally shook your head. He huffed a laugh. “Fine then.”
Jongho crouched down in front of you, the way he’d always done, making it easier for you to get on his back. His chest felt tight when you wrapped your arms around him.
And then he started walking, carrying you home because it wasn’t terribly far from here, and because that was what he’d always done. He felt you snuggle into him, tucking your face into his neck, and it was such a small gesture, something he’d considered so normal that he’d barely even noticed it, but now it felt like the world.
“Why didn’t you beg?” You mumble into the collar of his hoodie.
“What?”
“Why didn’t you say no? You could’ve—you could’ve just said no.”
“Hadn’t you already made up your mind? Weren’t you going to tear down the building either way?”
You shook your head, he assumed, and the movement of your hair felt ticklish against his skin. “I just—I wanted you to want me.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?” He looks straight ahead at the streetlights cutting through the darkness. “You know I wanted you.”
“But that’s different. You wanted me in a college way, not in a future wife way.”
It sounded so ridiculous he wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t, because this was about you and about his relationship and it was too important to laugh, no matter how ridiculous. “What does that mean?”
“It means you would’ve always left me, so I did it first.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Yeah,” you snuggled further into his neck as if your words weren’t even contradicting that display of affection in the slightest. Though, in your drunk and tired eyes it was probably more about being comfortable and less about showing any kind of affection. “You have your whole life ahead of you after all.”
“Y/n, we’re the same age.”
“But your future is worth more than mine.” You said it so matter of factly, like a truth you’d always known and secretly held onto, and maybe that was the most shocking part. Jongho stopped walking. He even almost dropped you, but remembered to hold on just in time.
“That’s bullshit,” he replied, but he already knew you’d disagree. You’d disagree and then explain to him the ways in which you were right, give arguments that had never even occurred to him. He’d never even considered the value of his life or future, nor had he ever thought to weigh it up against yours. And by what measure, anyway? What made a future more valuable? Who decided that?
You, apparently.
“It’s not. You’ll have your fancy,” you were interrupted by a hiccup, “job and drive a fancy,” another hiccup, “car and I will just,” another, “be me.” The last word slipped from your lips like an insult. “You would’ve left me anyway.”
“I wouldn’t have,” he insisted, “There is no just you. There is you. And I like you.”
“You used to love me, though.”
He did let out a small, huffed laugh now. “And I would say that I still do, if I thought you wanted to hear it.”
“I want to hear it.” Your breathing sounded really calm now, as if you were on the brink of falling asleep.
“I love you.”
He heard the sleepy smile in your voice as you replied, “Me too.”
The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the excruciating headache that only got worsened by the shrill sound of your alarm. You groaned and aimlessly fumbled with your phone until it finally stopped. This was why you didn’t like going out on weekdays.
After another ten minutes of drifting back to sleep, you tapped your phone screen to check the time. Almost 9. Fuck. You were going to miss the lecture. When you closed your eyes once more, hazy memories came back to you. Playing beer pong. Puking into Juyeon’s flower pot. Someone giving you water. Someone holding your hair. Someone carrying you on his back. Someone saying he loves you.
Jongho? You suddenly felt awake. Did that actually happen? Did you just dream it?
A message popped up on your phone screen.
Jongho: we need to talk
Double fuck.
You didn’t want to, but you forced yourself out of bed and into your shower. There’d been painkillers on the nightstand that you’d swallowed down with a big gulp of water and you thought they were already helping. When you finally got dressed and ready to go, your lecture was already halfway over. But you weren’t driving to campus for that lecture anyway.
You sat down on some stairs and waited for Jongho to come out. You needed this talk, as much as he did, probably. But you dreaded it too, confused by your own patchy memories and scared of that small hope inside of you getting crushed again. Still, you waited.
He didn’t smile when he spotted you, but he didn’t look upset either. It was something else, like insecurity and openness, feelings Jongho didn’t tend to wear on his sleeve.
“How are you feeling?” he asked when he plopped down beside you.
“Hungover.”
He chuckled, “I can imagine.”
“Scared, also.”
He frowned, “Of what?”
That you didn’t mean what you said yesterday. Or worse, that it was just a dream. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that. Not even now, so you shrugged instead.
He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on his own hands. Speaking didn’t seem to come easy to him either, and it made you feel closer to him, reminded you that he wasn’t this perfect entity but rather also just a person.
“Did you mean what you said yesterday?” he finally asked.
You didn’t remember half the things you said. “Which part?”
“All of them. That you wanted me to stop you. That you thought I’d be leaving you anyway,” he took a small breath, “That you love me.”
It felt like a now or never type of situation. If you weren’t going to be honest now, when would you? So you nodded. “Yes.”
“All of them?”
“...Yes.”
Jongho turned to look at you and there was so much hurt and vulnerability and desperation in his eyes, it almost made you feel sick to look at him because you knew this was your fault.
“I wasn’t going to leave,” he said and you think he said something like that yesterday too.
“I’m sorry,” you replied because it was the only thing you could come up with, “I’m sorry for not trusting you.”
“And I won’t leave now, either, if you don’t want me to.”
Your eyes widened, unable to quite grasp the meaning of his words.
“But you can’t break up with me again. Not unless you mean it.”
Tears were welling up in your eyes, and you knew you were still on campus and it wasn’t the best place to get emotional, but you didn’t care. “I’m sorry,” you whispered again with a wobbly voice.
“That’s not an answer.”
You sniffed, “I won’t. I won’t break up with you again.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He let out a breath, as if he’d been holding onto it for a long time.
“Good.” He took your hand and intertwined your fingers and it felt so good, so reassuring, so much like home to be connected to him like that again. He stared at your hands long and hard and it made you think he was probably thinking about the same thing. But then he said “You know your future isn’t actually less valuable than mine, right?”
You almost felt ashamed. Like a child that’d messed up. You knew the answer would be Yes but it would also be a lie, so you stayed silent.
“And to be honest, I’d much prefer to think of it as our future anyway.”
Ours. That sounded pretty nice. It sounded like a shared apartment and getting groceries and taking vacations together. It sounded like building a home. It sounded like being together.
“I’d like that.”
A smile spread on his lips before he connected them with yours. “Good,” he said again.
“Good,” you repeated.
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