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@rafreads
{ Raf recommends }
Raf reads...
...you read too <3
Welcome to my library, feel free to borrow any book, any time ⋆.ೃ࿔:・
I'm fine
Inspired from SAVE ME by BigHit.ent. (I made this to heal from the webtoon, NOT AN OFFICIAL SEQUEL!).
PROCEED WITH CAUTION!
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April 13th
"Ladies and gentlemen, our flight from Los Angeles to Incheon international airport will landing soon."
[...]
Seok-jin's POV
It's been two years, it's not like I've been away for too long...
But I don't feel like home.
[...]
"Today's is 11th April and this is your traffic update. I'm sure many of you will be going on picnic today so be prepared for some traffic on all major highways."
Busan Local Middle School
It's been two years since I've been back here. I remember these years. We used to have so much fun.
In school we used to hang out in that abandoned classroom doing all kinds of things. And in the beach, we were playing with fireworks.
I wonder how are they doing?
[...]
Jin: 2,500₩ unleaded please.
"Sure thing."
Jin: Here you go.
<...>
Police-officer: You have a visitor.
...
April 15
Nam-joon: Seok-jin!?
Jin: I heard you where here. A colleague of yours told me from the gas station used to work to. I passed by the other day but I didn't spoke to you figuring it had been a while since the last time.
Nam-joon: Yeah, it's definitely been a while.
Jin: I heard what happened, they told me. It didn't have to turn out this way. If there's anything you need, anything I can help you with...
Nam-joon: There's nothing you can do. It's already been settled.
Jin: I heard it all had to do something with a settlement.
Nam-joon: You broke fuck! That's what he told me, the person I beat up I mean. While I was filling up his car I accidentally hit the mirror and it got intensive. Long story short, I ended up in here. It was meant to happen, I'm broke after all. Now stop worrying about it and go.
Jin: The others?
Nam-joon: Hm?
Jin: Do they know about this? How are they doing? You kept in touch with them, right?
Nam-joon: No, not anymore.
Jin: Oh, I didn't know...
Nam-joon: Jungkook's dead, so is Yoon-gi. Ho-seok is in the hospital, he had a bad accident. I don't know about Ji-min and Tae-hyung. We haven't been in touch for a while.
"Visiting time is over. Please exit the room."
<...>
If I had talked to Nam-joon that night would things be different?
"Why did you murdered your father?"
Huh, what's happening there?
"Your little sister claimed that your father abused you since you were little, why haven't you said anything about this?"
"Do you know when they'll examine the crime scene?"
Jin: TAE-HYUNG!!!
Tae-hyung: Huh?...
*wakes up*
Jin: Ah!!!
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(Act 1)
Seok-jin's POV
Not matter how many times I tried, no matter what I did, I never saved them all.
Yet the time kept going back at this specific day, April 14.
By this time, I stopped caring. I stopped trying cause no matter what I did, it was always the same, I couldn't save them all... not alone...
I've lost count to how many April 14's have passed. I just kept going with the flow, trying live as normal as I could.
By this time, I've lost touch with everyone cause I know that if I hadn't, I would continue this endless circle of trying and I just can't keep doing this.
I've saw them die so many times that I can't count, in front of my eyes. I just couldn't go on and them die again and again. I couldn't keep torturing them by trying. Besides, some of them didn't want to be saved.
Maybe it's better this way. Maybe this was the only way I could save them, by not trying to change their fate, by never seeing them again. Maybe they'll find comfort in another life. After all, it was too stressing and heart-wrecking for me too.
At some point, I had lost my mind, myself with all this trying. I was paranoid.
My days were passing smoothly, I now didn't care of seeing the same date on my phone every passing day. I got accustomed to it.
All this until Tae-hyung popped on my doorstep.
Jin: Tae-hyung!?...
Tae-hyung: Hey Jin! So glad you came back!
He said and hugged me. I, though, couldn't move a muscle.
Jin: H-how you knew I was here?
Tae-hyung: Oh, the other day thought I saw you walking, I followed you and found that you returned from America!
Jin: B-but weren't you supposed to be in-...
"Prison?"
That's when I understood that all this time, while I was casually living on, they kept living as every usual April 14th, they kept living in the darkness.
I never saved them after all, as I thought I did by doing nothing. I only double their pain by let them live in their lives.
Tae-hyung: I was supposed to be in where?
Jin: N-nevermind... Em, come in.
I leaded him in and made tea for both of us. I needed it desperately cause I was going crazy again.
Jin: Here.
I said and handed him the tea. I sat across him and started drinking away.
Jin: H-how is everybody doing?
Tae-hyung: Ah, that's why I came here.
Tae-hyung spoke in a serious tone. Cold sweat covered my body from head to toe. I knew what I was going to hear but still, I didn't want to believe it.
Jin: Hm?
Tae-hyung: We need to talk.
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(Act 2)
Tae-hyung: We need to talk.
Tae-hyung said in a serious tone. Cold sweat had covered my body from head to toe. I knew what I was going to hear but still, I didn't want to believe it...
Jin: S-ure, go on.
Tae-hyung: I've been having this strange dreams lately.
Jin: What kind of dreams?
Tae-hyung: Where Yoon-gi is trapped in fire, Jungkook falling from a building, Ho-seok gets injured, Jimin is locked up in a hospital and Nam-joon in prison. That kind of dreams for like, every night. Strange right?
Jin: Yeah, strange...
Tae-hyung: I'm that dream too.
Jin: What's happening to you in the dream?
Tae-hyung: I don't know. From the moment I wake up forget everything about me from the dream. But that's not the most strange thing.
Jin: What do you mean?
Tae-hyung: I don't know, it's just... it doesn't feel real.
Jin: What?
Tae-hyung: Life, doesn't feel real. It's like a loop, like I'm stuck somewhere in a space time!...
My heart started beating faster. All this time I have them living the same nightmare over and over again. I didn't change anything. They're stuck in time!
Jin: I-I... I don't know what it means... M-maybe it's just in your imagination. T-things like this don't happen in real life.
Tae-hyung: I know! But each passing I have this bad feeling... I can't say for sure what is it but I feel sick to my stomach.
I couldn't say a word. I remained silent, staring madly at my cup.
"What on earth is happening!?..."
Tae-hyung: Well, I got to go now. It's getting late and my father won't like it if return late.
Jin: Want me to drive you?
Tae-hyung: No, it's fine. Besides, I have to drop by the grocery store.
Jin: Okay... Em, good night Tae.
Tae-hyung: Good night Jin.
He said and disappeared down the stairs.
That night, I didn't sleep. I couldn't.
How does Tae-hyung knows all this? I remember him taking about this again few seconds before killed his father.
Does he still going through this abuse. Probably yes...
So that means Jungkook and Yoon-gi are dying everyday, Ho-seok is getting hurt everyday and Nam-joon is still in jail.
What should I do? What can I do!?
I already tried million times but I never could save them all!
But I can't let them go through this pain again and again while I'm living on.
What should I do...
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(Act 3)
Seok-jin's POV
April 13th
That what was shining in my lockscreen when I woke up. Nothing new.
What should I do now?
The best thing I can is keep going on with my life but I do so, that means they'll keep suffering.
But I've trying everything. I couldn't save them no matter how many times I tried! No, not alone. I can't save them alone...
<...>
*knock, knock*
"Go open the door!"
"Yes father."
(...)
"Seok-jin!?"
Jin: Hello Tae-hyung.
Tae-hyung: What are you doing her-
"Who is it!?"
Tae-hyung: N-no one father...
Tae-hyung: Seok-jin, let's go somewhere else.
Jin: Yes.
[...]
Tae-hyung: What's up?
Jin: Nothing new. You?
Tae-hyung: Same but I saw this dream again.
The dream!?
Jin: W-what dream?...
Tae-hyung: The one I told you about yesterday.
Yesterday!
I opened my phone. It was April 14th!
Jin: This can't be...
Tae-hyung: What can't be?
Jin: We need to hurry!
I said and started running. It was still early, may I could save them. But not alone, not anymore.
[...]
Tae-hyung: Where are we going?
Jin: To save Ho-seok.
Tae-hyung: Excuse me?
Jin: I'll explain later, hurry!
Tae-hyung: Okay...
I was kept running desperately to reach the bridge, that bridge, the bridge were Ho-seok was about to have an accident.
All the way there my mind kept racing. What is going on? What happened? How the date changed? Why now?...
But what what was floating in my mind the most was why am I trying...
I mean what if I failed again or what if I succeeded but they didn't want to be saved?...
Innumerable questions but only one moment before disaster.
I was at the bridge. Everything was going in slow motion.
There was Ho-seok, falling asleep and on road. A car was approaching. And then pitch black...
<...>
Tae-hyung: How is he?
Doctor: He's stable for now.
Tae-hyung: Is he gonna be okay?
Where am I?
Doctor: The odds are with him. He just has a mild concasion concussion. Nothing alarming shows on the scans but we can't be sure yet. That's what we're sure of though, is that he needs rest.
CONCUSSION!?
Tae-hyung: When is he gonna be discharged?
Why are their voices so far? They're right in front of me!
Doctor: I can be sure.
What do you mean you can't sure! I need to save them!
Tae-hyung: Okay, thank you doctor.
How long was I out?
Ho-seok: Was it my fault?...
NO, it was Ho-seok, IT WASN'T! Please don't think that...
Tae-hyung: No, you don't need to worry Ho-seok, he'll be okay.
Ho-seok: But if I haven't fallen asleep again...
WHY CAN'T I MOVE!?
Tae-hyung: It's not like you did it on purpose, you couldn't help it. It's nacrolepsy's fault. Don't beat yourself up.
Somebody notice me!
Ho-seok: Right...
Tae-hyung: Don't worry, he's gonna be okay.
I need to get up, I must save them!
Jin: I must save them!
Tae-hyung: Jin!?
Ho-seok: Jin! A-are you alright? I'm so sorry Jin, I-
Jin: Don't worry Ho-seok, I'm you didn't got hurt.
Ho-seok: Yeah, but because you are...
Jin: It's not your fault, don't think that, I'll be okay.
Ho-seok: Still, I'm sorry.
Tae-hyung: Jin...
Jin: Mhm?
Tae-hyung: Who you need to save?
That's when it hit me again. What date was it!?
Jin: How long was I out?
Ho-seok: A couple of hours, why?
Jin: We don't have time!
I said and tried to get up but I felt everything spinning around me.
Tae-hyung: Take it easy! You have a concussion.
Jin: We need to go, help me up!
Tae-hyung: You have nowhere to go. You haven't even been discharged yet!
Jin: I don't care! I must save them, before the sunset. I don't have time!
Ho-seok: What's going on?
Tae-hyung: Who you need to save?
Jin: SHUT UP!
I screamed at the top of my lungs. Right then doctors came rushing in.
Nurse: Is everything okay?
Doctor: What happened?
Jin: N-othing, they just opened the TV and it was very loud. Just that...
Nurse: Maybe you should get out-
Jin: NO, it's okay, I'd like them to stay.
Doctor: As you wish, but not for too long. Visiting hours are almost over.
Jin: Okay...
Once I was sure the doctors were out of my room...
Jin: I need to sneek out of here.
Tae-hyung: What!?
Ho-seok: Are you crazy!? You're badly hurt!
Jin: I don't care, if I don't save them, they'll die!
Tae-hyung: Who will die?
Jin: Yoon-gi and Jungkook. Nam-joon will go to prison and Jimin will get locked up in hospital!
Ho-seok: Wa-wait... are you sure okay?...
Tae-hyung: How will they die, Yoon-gi and Jungkook?
Jin: Yoon-gi will set himself on fire and Jungkook will fall off building.
Ho-seok: H-how do you know?...
Jin: It's complicated, I don't have to explain now!
Tae-hyung: You knew... ALL THIS TIME, YOU KNEW!
Jin: Yes.
Tae-hyung: AND WHAT DID YOU DO ABOUT IT, HUH!?
Jin: I tried-
Tae-hyung: No you didn't, I didn't even know you were here! I just yesterday learnt you're here and that by pure luck!
Jin: I DID try... many times but it never worked... At one point I thought I was going insane and one I just stopped, I thought it would be for the best, that maybe, if I stopped trying things would go back to normal and none of you would to live that nightmare again, cause for me, it was a nightmare, seeing all of you suffer every day the same thing and I couldn't do anything!... I never thought you would continue to relive the same day for so many times, I thought that if I let go away things would progress on their own. I was wrong... I wrong for letting you go, I was wrong giving up on you... I'm sorry...
I didn't know I was crying until I saw the tears on my palms.
Tae-hyung: I-I didn't know... I'm really, really sorry Jin. I should have known you tried... I'm sorry!...
Tae-hyung cried and hugged me. This time I hugged him back cause I knew that he wasn't angry only at me but the pressure also took over him.
Ho-seok: Am I the only one who doesn't understand anything?
Jin: I don't have time to explain but I need you to do me favour.
Ho-seok: Y-yeah, sure. What is it?
Jin: I need you to pretend you're me.
Ho-seok: Em, like how?
Jin: You're just going to lay in may bed, pretend, or not, to be asleep so that the nurses don't think that I'm gone.
Ho-seok: While you will be?
Jin: I promise I'll explain to you later but for now please do that. I'll safer for both of us.
Ho-seok: Okay.
Jin: I'll be back before midnight, if I'm late then let someone know.
Ho-seok: Okay, please be careful Jin.
Jin: I will.
I hugged him. I know he needed that. I knew that still he wasn't sure if I forgave him for the accident and didn't believe that it wasn't his fault.
After that, I left with Tae-hyung. This time I WAS going to save them all and not alone.
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(Act 4)
Seok-jin's POV
Tae-hyung: Alright, so what's the plan?
Jin: Well, I-I don't know, whatever I tried before never worked-
Tae-hyung: That's because you were alone. Now you have me and I'm not going to leave you.
Jin: Yeah, right.
I still was a bit shaken from what had the past few hours that I couldn't believe Tae-hyung's words. With all the memories flooding back and dizziness in my head I couldn't focus. But I needed to be strong, I had to save them! I picked up all my courage and organised my thoughts, I didn't have time to spare.
Jin: T-the first thing you need to know is that what's happening in end of your day is that you kill your father.
Tae-hyung: W-hat!?...
Jin: Yeah, he was beating up your sister and you smashed a beer bottle on his head... You need to avoid that, don't go home.
Tae-hyung: I can't... What about my sister? I can't just leave her!
Jin: Is there anyway to communicate with her?
Tae-hyung: Yeah, our home phone. But I don't know if she will be the one to pick it up!
Jin: We need to take the risk. We're gonna have to take a lot risks. I know I'm asking for a lot and if you don't want t-
Tae-hyung: We talked about this, I'll always be with you. So, I call her?
Jin: No, not yet. Your sister is safe for the time being. Now I have to save Nam-joon. You must find Jungkook. I'll come to find you as soon as I can!
Tae-hyung: Okay but how?
Jin: In about 20 minutes schools finish. Jungkook's still going to Busan Local Middle School. If he ain't there he'll probably be on top of that skyscraper next to the abandoned garage, behind the big allay.
Tae-hyung: Got it!
I started running to my apartment. I got in my car that was parked nearby and I drove off towards the gas station that Nam-joon worked.
Fortunately, I arrived on time.
Nam-joon: Welcome.
Jin: It's been a while.
I got out of my car and approached him.
Jin: How are you?
Nam-joon: Fine. When did you get back?
Jin: I just got back to Korea... Hey Nam-joon-
Nam-joon: Just a second, I got work.
Right about now, that guy will start yelling at Nam-joon for hitting that mirror. I need to stick with the plan and prevent the worse, I kept telling to myself.
"Are you crazy, you know how much it costs?"
Nam-joon: I'm terribly sorry sir, it was an accident.
"I don't believe you're sorry, it doesn't look that way! No way I'm paying you."
Nam-joon: I said, I'm sorry, I mean it.
"Haha, this is how poor you are!"
Right then Nam-joon tried it punch the guy, then I interfered.
Jin: He SAID, he's sorry.
"And who do you think you are?"
Jin: Take your money and leave.
"Are you his lawyer or something?"
Jin: Just leave!
I yelled at him and threw his money on his face. He didn't say anything, he just drove off.
Nam-joon: You didn't have to this.
Jin: You're my friend, of course I'll help you whenever you need.
Nam-joon didn't reply, he lowered his head. But I only saw tears falling to the ground, I knew he needed to know that someone would always be by his side. And I would always be from on.
Jin: Hey Nam-joon you don-
Just then, my head started spinning and fell on the frond of my car.
Nam-joon: Hey, you okay!?
Jin: Yeah. It's nothing to worry about. I just hit my head and I'm kinda dizzy.
Nam-joon: When?
Jin: In the morning, I... I fell off my bed.
Nam-joon: Like how did you do that!
Jin: Hehe... funny story. But em, I don't have time. I need to go.
Nam-joon: There's no way you driving like this. Wherever you want to go, I'll take take you.
Jin: Thank you Nam-joon.
Nam-joon: Where are we going?
Jin: To H&L motel.
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(Act 5)
Seok-jin's POV
Nam-joon: Here we are? Now what?
Jin: Now we're going to save Yoon-gi.
Nam-joon: Are you sure you're okay? Yoon-gi is dead...
Jin: Not yet.
Nam-joon: Huh?
Jin: He still alive but we have to hurry if we want him to stay this way.
I said, getting out of the car.
Jin: In about five minutes, Yoon-gi is going to set his room in fire, with him inside. We need to hurry.
Nam-joon: Woah, woah, have do you know all this?
Jin: I don't have time for explanations now. We need to hurry!
I ran towards the entrance but suddenly, I got dizzy.
Nam-joon: Hey, be careful!
Thankfully Nam-joon caught me. I didn't have time for my stupid injury now!
Nam-joon: Maybe, I go-
Jin: No, I'm fine. Let's go!
We ran as fast as we could towards the motel entrance, trying to prevent what was going to happen.
Jin: Good evening. Can you please tell me the room where Min Yoon-gi lives?
Receptionist: Does he know you're here?
Jin: Yes!
Receptionist: Let me inform him real qui-
Jin: We don't have time, h-he's about to set his room on fire! Please, tell us!
Receptionist: R-oom 142!...
Jin: Thank you!
And we ran. We only had few seconds left before the disaster.
But...
We were too late...
The room was already in fire, smokes were coming out of doors' chink. And it was locked.
Jin: Shit!
I mattered after my 7th failed attempt to open it.
Nam-joon: Move away.
Right then, Nam-joon ran towards the door and broke our way in.
Yoon-gi was there. Laying on his bed. Unconscious. I ran towards him with Nam-joon tried to put out the fire with the fire extinguisher. As I was about pick him up, I got dizzy and my head started throbbing.
"Not now!"
And everything went black...
[...]
*Sirens*
"Are okay, Jin?"
"Two crash carts!"
"Jin, wake up, please!"
"Please move away sir."
Why is everything ringing? Like, all sounds are so faint. What happened?
"Is he gonna be okay?"
"Yes, he probably inhaled a lot of smoke."
Yoon-gi. Where's Yoon-gi.
"He also hit his head previously... Could that be?"
"It depends on how bad was it."
Yoon-gi? What happened to Yoon-gi? Yoon-gi?
"What about the other guy?"
"He'll live. He inhaled too much smoke."
Thank God!
[...]
Nam-joon: Jin?
Jin: Urg, my head...
Nam-joon: Do you want me to call a doctor?
Jin: N-no, I'll be fine... How's Yoon-gi.
Nam-joon: Stable for now. He's in coma...
Jin: Oh... B-but he's gonna be okay, right?
Nam-joon: I... don't know.
Was I too late?
Nam-joon: Hey, you did everything you could-
Jin: NO!
I yelled and slammed with my fist the wall next to me. I clearly didn't do everything I could or else, I would just fine now.
Jin: I did that more times that I can count!
Nam-joon: You did what?
Jin: SAVE HIM, SAVE ALL OF YOU COUNTLESS TIMES! BUT NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES I TRIED, SOMEONE WAS ALWAYS GETTING LOST!
Nam-joon: W-hat...
Jin: Now that I had help, I thought I'd made it... But I failed again, I failed to protect you... Ever since I got here, days were stuck in one specific day, April 13th. I don't know why or how but every day was April 13th. When I met you prison, April 14th, and you told me what had happened to the others, days stopped passing. I figured that I saved you all, things would go back to normal and we would be as used to, happy... But... I never managed to save you all, no matter how many times I tried or how hard I tried. I started going insane... And I just stopped. I thought maybe it was better this way, maybe I could end your misery by stopping. I was wrong. Tae-hyung told me each passing day, nothing changed, that everyone kept living this nightmare and I just kept going like nothing had ever happened... But still, this time, even with help, I couldn't save him... I'm sorry...
I didn't know I was crying at this point. Then, I felt someone hugging me.
Jungkook: It's not your fault hyang.
Jin: Jungkook... Y-you're okay?
Jungkook: Mhm, and that's because of you. Because you didn't give up Tae-hyung could find me.
"I was always a pain in the ass..."
Someone spoke. I turned around to see who was it.
Jin: Y-Yoon-gi!?
Yoon-gi: Sorry I created trouble-
I ran towards him and hugged him. I was so relieved to see him alive.
Jin: I'm glad you're okay!
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(Act 6)
Jin: We have to go.
Jungkook: Where to?
Jin: To save Ji-min.
Jungkook: What about Ho-seok?
Jin: Don't worry, he's fine.
Nam-joon: Where is he?
Jin: At private clinic.
Tae-hyung: Where is it?
Jin: At the outskirts of town, Hippocrates Clinic.
Yoon-gi: I can't go, I'm not discharged yet.
Tae-hyung: It's better this way. You need some rest.
Jungkook: I'll stay with you.
Yoon-gi: You don't ha-
Jungkook: I'll leave you, not anyone again. Cause, you're my only hope, my only reason to keep going. If I lose you again, I won't have a reason to live... My life sucks, the only light in it, is you guys, so I'll try to keep you with me.
Nam-joon: We won't leave you again Jaykay, not ever, not anyone.
Jungkook: Promise?
"Promise!"
[...]
Nam-joon: You're not driving, I don't want to get killed Jin. Hop on everyone!
And we drove off to where Ji-min was being held.
[...]
Jin: Here we are.
Tae-hyung: It looks scary...
Nam-joon: Let's go.
It was indeed scary on the outside. The colour had faded, leaving a greyish hue. The big sign that read 'Hippocratic Clinic' was dusty and the hospital yard had no sign of life. No trees no grass. Something out of a horror movie.
Tae-hyung: Let's get Ji-min out of here.
Tae-hyung said, visibly scared of the place. Nam-joon seamed cautious too. I was used to it though. I've been in this place more times than I can count. Sometimes alone, sometimes with them, but didn't remember.
Tae-hyung: Why was he brought here?
Jin: After witnessing the murder of his father, he got PDSD and seizures. His mother couldn't handle the situation and take care of him, so she closed him to this clinic.
Tae-hyung: My poor Ji-min...
Nam-joon: That's horrible...
Jin: Well, we're gonna save him and we'll be just fine.
(...)
Nurse: Good evening, how can I help you?
Jin: We're here to see Park Ji-min. We're his friends.
Nurse: Hm, let me see... Ah yeah, Park Ji-min. He's on floor 7 at room 214. You've got only half an hour before visiting time is over.
Jin: Thank you.
We took the elevator to his room. We knocked but he didn't answer. I was scared after he didn't answer the 7th time we knocked. I opened the door and we made our way in.
He wasn't there. We looked all around the room but he was nowhere to be seen. But there's was only door we didn't search.
The bathroom door... Memories of finding him drowned in the bath tub filled my mind. I was hesitant to open that door, scared of what we were about to witness.
Nam-joon: Is something wrong?
Jin: I have a bad feeling about this...
Tae-hyung: What is it?
I didn't answer, I just opened the door. And my fears were verified.
Tae-hyung: OH MY GOD, JI-MIN!
Tae-hyung ran towards him and him out of bath tub.
Tae-hyung: H-he isn't breathing!... What do we do? W-we can't let nurses know or we'll never free him.
Nam-joon: Make way.
Nam-joon made his way towards Ji-min. He laid Ji-min on the floor and started performing CPR.
Nam-joon: If doesn't wake up, we must call the nurses.
He stated while resuming compressions. Tae-hyung hid himself in my hug. He was too scared his friend dying.
Jin: Everything will be okay, everything will be okay.
I tried to reassure him and myself. I didn't want to see dying again.
*cough, cough*
Ji-min: W*cough* what happened?
Nam-joon: You idiot!
Nam-joon said and pulled Ji-min into his hug. Tae-hyung also joined.
Tae-hyung: Don't ever scare me like this again!
Ji-min: Nam-joon, Tae-hyung, what are you guys doing here?
Nam-joon: We're here to save you Ji-min. And if it wasn't for Jin, everyone would have tragic end.
Ji-min: Jin?
Ji-min looked up.
Jin: Hi Ji-min. Long time no see.
Tae-hyung: Come on Ji-min, let's go!
Ji-min: Huh?...
Nam-joon: Don't you wanna be free again?
Ji-min: Why? I don't have nowhere to go. My father died, my mother thinks I'm a pain in the ass and I have gone crazy. There's nowhere to be for me out there. I don't why you came here.
Jin: You're wrong. You have us. You will always have us. It was my fault for leaving. But I promise you, I will never leave again, I will back out. It was hard for me too, not having you around. You know how many times I tried to save all of you? Countless, but I never succeeded because I was alone. But I promise from now on you will never walk alone, no one will have to.
Ji-min was in the verge of tears. After being alone, suffering for all this time, having someone to accept you for who you are, was comforting.
Tae-hyung: Please Ji-min, come with us. I don't say it will be easy, but at least we'll together. We'll fight together!
Ji-min: Where's everybody else?
Nam-joon: Yoon-gi is the hospital with Jaykay, Ho-seok too.
Ji-min: Are they okay?
Jin: Yes don't worry.
Ji-min: I missed them too.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
(Act 7)
Tae-hyung: Alright, but how do we leave this place?
Jin: From fire escape. Nam-joon, I want you to go and move the car to the back exit.
Nam-joon: Got it.
He said and left to do as he was told.
Jin: To be covered, Ji-min wear these.
I said and pulled out a bag with clothes in, a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.
Ji-min: Okay.
Jin: Tae-hyung, go pull the fire alarm.
Tae-hyung: Huh, why!?
Jin: Cause if we open the fire escape doors it make noise and we'll be caught. If the alarm is off, the sirens won't sound.
Tae-hyung: Okay.
Ji-min: Done.
Jin: Good, let's go. We need to synchronised to succeed.
Tae-hyung: Let's do it.
Soon, the fire alarm echoed to all the hospital and room by room started to be evacuated. We quickly got down the emergency stairway and headed towards the car. I made sure to grab Ji-min medicine too.
In the panic the was created, the nurses didn't noticed that Ji-min wasn't in his room, maybe assuming he already evacuated alone. Nam-joon covered for us as exited the building, he checked us out.
As he was told, Nam-joon had already the car waiting. We quickly got in and drove off by the sideway road so we wouldn't attract suspicions.
That was one of the many risks we had too take to save them all.
{...}
Tae-hyung: Jungkook?
Jungkook: Yeah, Tae-hyung?
Tae-hyung: Is Yoon-gi discharged yet?
Jungkook: Yeah, he signed the papers an hour ago, they're just checking on him now.
Tae-hyung: Good, in about twenty minutes we'll be out of hospital. Meets us in the parking lot if you're finished by then.
Jungkook: Okay.
*hangs up*
{...}
Nam-joon: Alright here we are.
Tae-hyung: Here they come!
Jin: Get in.
Jungkook: Ji-min! You're okay! I'm glad to see you.
Ji-min: Me too Jungkook.
Yoon-gi: I'm glad you're okay Ji-min.
Ji-min: Same for you Yoon-gi.
Nam-joon: So what now?
Jin: We aren't finished yet, we have to save Tae-hyung.
Jungkook: but Tae-hyung is here, he's okay.
Jin: But his sister is not. When he won't come back again, his father will blame it all to his sister and beat her up or worse.
Yoon-gi: So, what do we do?
Jin: I have a plan but it's risky.
Tae-hyung: After that plan back at the hospital, nothing is riskier.
Yoon-gi: Did you set it on fire or something?
Tae-hyung: Theoretically, I did yes, practically, no.
Yoon-gi: Okay?... I'm scared.
Ji-min: What's the plan?
Jin: Tae-hyung, you'll call your sister and tell her that in half an hour we'll be out of the house, pretending to be the pizza guy. Around 23:30 doesn't your father always expect him?
Tae-hyung: Yeah.
Jin: Good. When we arrive, I'll go and knock the door and tell her she HAS to answer it. I'll leave a couple of pizzas for distraction and we'll leave with her. In the meantime, someone will call the police and your dad. And we'll safely away from him.
Tae-hyung: Okay.
Jin: Make sure that she won't say your name!
Tae-hyung: Got it.
Jin: Good, Nam-joon drive us to the nearest pizzeria.
Nam-joon: On our way.
{...}
Tae-hyung: Hello?
Seo-yeon: Who is it?
Tae-hyung: Don't tell my name, it's me Tae, for you, the pizza guy.
Seo-yeon: Okay.
Tae-hyung: In half an hour, I'll be outside in a black SUV car. A friend of mine will deliver the pizzas. Make sure that YOU open the door! My friend will leave the pizzas and you'll follow him. That will happen as quickly as possible. I can't explain more.
Seo-yeon: Yes.
Tae-hyung: Good, bye.
*hangs up*
"Who the hell was it!?"
Seo-yeon: The pizza guy, he wanted to confirm your delivery.
"When will he be here?"
Seo-yeon: In half an hour.
{...}
"Here's your pizzas."
Jin: Thank you. How much?
"It'll be 16000.50₩ sir"
Jin: Here you go, thank you.
"Have a nice night."
{...}
Nam-joon: Here we are.
Jin: Give me the bag.
Ji-min: Here.
And I got off the car. But the moment I got up, my head started spinning. I ignored it. I didn't have much time, we also had to take Ho-seok. And I had to be quick if I wanted this to succeed.
I walked up to the door and knocked on. Thankfully, Seo-yeon answered.
Seo-yeon: Hello.
Jin: Here's your pizzas miss.
Seo-yeon: How much does it cost?
Jin: It'll be 16000.50₩ miss.
I said and showed her the car.
Seo-yeon: Here you go.
Jin: Your change.
And I gave a note reading 'Run fast to that car'.
She did as she was told and as I was about to leave the pizzas and go, Tae-hyung's father showed up.
"What's taking s- Huh, who are you? Where's Seo-yeon?"
I couldn't reply. Words froze in my throat.
"I ASKED SOMETHING!"
Jin: GO NAM-JOON!
Was the only thing I got to say...
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
(Act together)
Yoon-gi: What's taking so long?
Tae-hyung: Oh shit, my father!
Seo-yeon: W-what!?...
Nam-joon: Danm it!
Jin: GO NAM-JOON!
Ji-min: What did he say!?
Yoon-gi: He told us to leave.
Jungkook: We can't leave him behind!
Seo-yeon: Tae, father is coming this way!
Tae-hyung: Shit!
Jin: GOOOOO!
Tae-hyung's father was menacingly approaching the car. I once again yelled at Nam-joon to drive off. He did and I started running away but then, a loud bang echoed.
And from then on, I couldn't remember anything...
{...}
Ho-seok's POV
It is past midnight. They're late. Why isn't he picking up his phone. Maybe should try Tae.
*ringing*
He isn't picking up either. What's going on!? What if something bad happened?
He told me that if he isn't back by midnight I should let someone know. Maybe I can one more time.
*The person you're trying to reach isn't available right now. Please call later or leave your message after the beab...*
No, he isn't picking up. Where is he!?
*drin, drin, drin*
Ho-seok: Hello?
Nam-joon: It's me Nam-joon!
Ho-seok: Nam-joon!? W-what happened?
Nam-joon: Jin's in trouble!
Ho-seok: What!? What happened?
Nam-joon: It's a long story and we don't have time! I need you to inform the hospital that he's missing.
Ho-seok: H-how do you know he was in the hospital?...
Nam-joon: Tae-hyung is with and everyone else. Now hurry, he's in danger! Tell them to send police by the 927 Danggam-dong!
Ho-seok: Got it!
And so I did. I told the nurses that as I was visiting my friend I noticed he was missing and told them were he might and that he's in danger.
Nurse: You sure he's there?
Ho-seok: Yes. But please tell the police cars not have the sirens on. The person that he's with is dangerous and he won't be safe.
Immediately the nurse called security and informed them on the situation. They deployed the police to were I told them.
*drin, drin, drin*
Ho-seok: Yeah?
Nam-joon: We're outside at the parking lot. Come quickly!
Ho-seok: Okay.
I ran to the parking lot, found them and got in the car which drove, probably to where Jin was located.
Ho-seok: Alright, I need to know what's going on! How Jin got in trouble?
Tae-hyung: Well...
The story that followed was crazy. In the start I didn't believe it, I thought it was a bad prank. But everyone confirmed. It was true...
Ho-seok: He is gonna be okay, right?
Tae-hyung: My father is a dangerous man... Let's hope that the police will get there on time.
(...)
We arrive at were Jin was supposed to be. The house was surrounded by cops. We watched as they broke the door and got in. A few moments later, they came out a man in cuffs. Seconds later, an ambulance stopped by and paramedics got in the house.
And they got out with...
Tae-hyung: Jin!
Tae-hyung yelled and immediately got out of the car. He ran towards him but the officers didn't let him approach.
"We got shoot victim!"
"Quick he's losing blood!"
"I can't find his pulse."
Tae-hyung got filled with rage and tried run towards his father.
Tae-hyung: YOU FUCKING BASTARD, IF HE DIES I'M GONNA KILL YOU!
We tried calm him down but it was no use.
Tae-hyung: YOU HEAR ME? I'M GONNA KILL YOU!
Seo-yeon: Tae, calm down! Please!
Tae-hyung: I HATE YOU!
Seo-yeon: Tae-hyung! Stop!
Tae-hyung fell on his knees and started crying.
Tae-hyung: I hate you...
We tried to comfort him but he was lost in guilt.
The ambulance took off and the officers came to speak the Seo-yeon and Tae-hyung. Nam-joon went to ask where they took Jin.
And I was wondering. Was it really worth it? Jin was really worth to in so much pain for us? For all I know, he tried to save us many times but we never made it easy for him. May he should let us die. Cause friends, always help each other while we, we didn't...
{...}
Seok-jin's POV
My body was hurting.
Where were the others?
Was everybody okay?
I feel so weak.
Where am I?
What are they saying?
Why can't I hear them?
I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know who were these people and what they were doing to me or where they were taking.
Where were the others?
In a while, we stopped. They got me out of car. And suddenly everything became so loud.
"MAKE WAY, MAKE WAY!"
"WHAT HAPPENED?"
"WE GOT A SHOT VICTIM!"
"QUICK, BRING HIM IN!"
I was shot!? This was bad. What happened to the others? Did they got hurt too?
I tried to ask but no voice came out of my mouth, I couldn't even move. I was only looking at them, hoping to catch their attention. But it was use.
Soon after we got in the hospital, I taken in room filled with doctors and then again, everything went black.
(...)
Nam-joon's POV
We arrived at the hospital were they told us they took Jin to. I had never drove so fast again in my life.
We made our way in, trying to catch even a glimpse of him, to see if he was alive.
Nurse: Can I help you?
Tae-hyung: We're looking for a guy named Kim Seok-jin.
Nurse: A yeah, the gun victim. They arrived few minutes ago. I think they took him to the OR.
Nurse: Are you his family?
Jungkook: Yes, we're family.
Nurse: You can wait for him in the cafeteria. But I don't know how long the surgery will take.
Ho-seok: Can you inform us when he'll be out?
Nurse: Of course.
Ho-seok: Thank you.
And so we waited. For the first time in my life, I felt so scared. What if he didn't make it? He saved us but at what cost? His life? What we would do without him? He became our new hope for something better. I didn't want to lose this hope.
I didn't want to lose my dear friend...
Everyone was a mess. Tae-hyung was crying in his sister's arms, Jungkook was looking so scared and desperate, Ji-min was passing down the cafeteria, Ho-seok was curled up on his chair, looking continuously at the time, anxious, and Yoon-gi seemed so drained.
It took forever for the nurse to tell us that Jin got out of surgery.
Nurse: He's out.
Jungkook: How is he?
Nurse: He is stable but his condition is critical.
Yoon-gi: What do you mean?
Nurse: The shot wound wasn't that deep and they managed to fix it but he also suffered another injury.
Ho-seok: A concasion...
Nurse: Yeah but it got worse-
Ho-seok: Worse!?...
Nurse: He sustained a major drain bleeding at his temporal lobe.
Ji-min: Brain bleeding?...
Nurse: That's why we're not sure if he'll remember you when he wakes up...
My whole world fell apart. This was all because of us. Because we ended up like this and had to save us he got hurt.
Ho-seok: It's all my fault...
Jungkook: Wha-
Tae-hyung: We talked about this Ho-seok, it wasn't your fault-
Ho-seok: IT'S BECAUSE OF ME THAT HE GOT THE CONCUSSION! IF I WASN'T SO USELESS HE WOULD BE JUST FINE!
Yoon-gi: What are you saying.
Ho-seok: My condition hit me while I was crossing a street and, out of nowhere, he came and...
Nam-joon: Saved you. He saved you and I know that he doesn't regret that. Cause all he wanted was to save us. And he did, we're fine.
Ho-seok: But he isn't...
Nam-joon: He will be cause we won't ever leave him.
Yoon-gi: Yeah, we'll always stand by his side like he always did.
Doctor: He's awake, you can go see him.
And we went. I was hesitant to open the door. No matter what I had said, my heart wouldn't be able to handle this.
Seok-jin's POV
Jin: Guys?
Jungkook: Jin-hyang!
Jungkook ran towards me and fell in my arms.
Jin: You guys okay?
Yoon-gi: You bastard, you scared us!
He said and joined Jungkook too.
Tae-hyung: Jin, I'm sorry-
Jin: It wasn't your fault Tae-hyung. You don't have to worry. I'm fine.
Nam-joon: Don't ever do this again!
Jin: For you guys, I'd walk through fire. You're my family.
Jungkook: Still, don't do it!...
Ji-min: Thank you for everything Jin.
Jin: You don't have to thank me. Where's Ho-seok?
Ji-min: He was right behind us-
Nam-joon: I'll go look for hi- Here he is.
Jin: Ho-seok, are you okay?
Ho-seok came in sniffling, with his head down.
Ho-seok: I-I'm s-orry Jin. I'm so sorry.
With the little strength I had left, I got up, walked towards him and hugged him.
Jin: It wasn't your fault Ho-seok.
Ho-seok: B-but-
Jin: Shhhh. Just calm down okay. Everything is okay now. We're all fine.
Tae-hyung: And what do we do now?
Jin: We live.
©pageraf, do NOT copy or repost without my permission! (Reblogs are appreciated)
One spring day
Inspired by BTS's song, "Spring Day" and based on two very unfortunate accidents.
PROCEED WITH CAUTION!
︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵
April 13th
17:25
"The train to Busan ready for departure."
We used to be close...
I don't know what happened.
We took different ways...
...and separated.
I hadn't heard from them for very long time.
Neither did they knew anything about me or anyone else between them
How did we end up like this?
We used to be so close.
I remember we used to have so much fun...
Messing around with each other.
Pranking teachers at school...
...and then in detention messing with the supervisor.
And after school going anywhere but home.
We used to have so much fun...
How did we end up like this?
How did we end up alone?...
"Your ticket please."
Jin: Here.
"Thank you, have a nice trip."
I don't remember how it happened.
Only that I regret it...
...not seeing them again.
Losing touch.
It hurts me still.
Only if saw them again...
...just one more time.
To tell them I'm sorry for leaving.
Because...
...it was me...
...me who left first.
︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵
(Act 1)
Jin's POV
Seven years had passed from when I left to study in London.
Seven years had passed since I visited home...
I had already graduated and even found a good job with great benefits and money. Some could say my life was perfect.
Well it was, but it was empty...
The decision to come back to Busan, I took after I received a letter.
Busan Local Middle School was holding a reunion for the students of the years 2012-14.
I wasn't sure if they would come, but it was my only chance to just see them again. I missed them. Terribly.
I missed them so much, I missed our moments, our memories...
I wanted to see them one more time, even for a little while, to see they're okay.
And that how I flew to Seoul and took the train to Busan, our hometown.
MsKim: Jinniaaaaaaa!
My mom came running towards me when she saw me and hugged me.
MsKim: I missed you much! How are doing? Are okay? How things going?
MrKim: Take it easy on him, he just arrived. Let's get him in first, he'll get cold. Here son, give me your luggage.
Jin: You don't have to father, they're not that heavy-
MrKim: I took them now, what are you gonna do for that?
MsKim: Come in, you'll get cold!
(...)
MsKim: Dinner is ready. Come!
Once we were all set, mom started bombing me with questions.
MsKim: So, how's life in America?
Jin: It's... good. Work is going well.
MsKim: Do you currently have a relationship?
Jin: Wha- MOM!
MrKim: Oh come on, it's not time for these questions! He's tired.
MsKim: Well, I want to know when I'll have grandchild!
At her words, I choked on my food and started coughing. I always hated these kind of conversations. It's not like I had to hide something, I just was always very secretive about my life. I didn't feel comfortable talking about these things. Well, it was a typical family dinner after all, such questions are always asked.
Jin: MOMMM!
MrKim: You know he never liked talking about these personal stuff!
MsKim: I know but tell me Jin!
Jin: No! I don't have, I'm just focusing on work for now.
MsKim: Well don't you think that maybe it's time to focus on your life too? I mean, you're 32!
Jin: Mom please! Let's talk for something else! So how are you two doing?
MrKim: Well, we're doing fine. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Jin: I'm glad to hear you're doing alright.
MsKim: Well, we do miss you.
MrKim: I won't disagree.
MsKim: But if you're happy, we're happy.
MrKim: You must be tired Jin. Your room is all set. Go, we'll tidy things here.
(...)
It's been a long time since I been to my room. They didn't change anything. They kept everything.
Memories flooded my mind, of when I was younger, of when everything was just fine. I missed those days, now my life was empty. I realised this more and more every day.
Why did I left?...
Why did I left in the first place? Why can't I remember the reason that I left everything behind?
That's been bothering since I came back. Why did I left all this, why can't I remember the reason for leaving my family, my friends...
I didn't even feel fulfilled with my life now, my job, anything. I only had a good quality life, not a good life...
I searched through my mind but I couldn't figure it out.
That night, I couldn't sleep. Something was bothering me. Apart from my thoughts, I had a bad feeling. I didn't know what was it about.
But I could feel something bad was coming...
︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵
(Act 2)
Tae-hyung's POV
April 16th
02:30
Tae-hyung: Em, excuse me?
"Yes?"
Tae-hyung: Can you tell me where's the platform 7?
"Oh yeah, go straight and after passing two platforms, at your right hand, opposite from platform 6."
Tae-hyung: Oh, thank you.
I didn't even know why I was going. It had been what, like 7 years since I left. And never came back.
Why would I want to come back at this shithole.
I hated this town. Busan. I had no good memories of there. First, losing my father to prison due drag dealing, then, my mother disappearing after my father's sentence like I never existed and lastly, my brother, the last person I had left, dying of drag overdose.
Or, I had good memories. With my 6 friends. I don't know why, but don't seem to remember their names. I hated that. Cause I knew we were so close. Spending hours together. Messing with each other. They were so important to me.
Why can't I remember their names?...
I do remember that I missed them after leaving. I don't have any complaints about my life. It was great now. I got a scholarship in Japan 7 years ago, studied there, got a nice job and now, I have a family of my own.
But something was missing. I still felt alone. I missed them. That's why I felt alone.
This was the only reason why I was going back. With the hope that I can meet them at the reunion and, just maybe, make things right with them.
Maybe I didn't remember their names but I remembered their faces. And that's because of a photo my wife found at an old box as we were moving.
When she showed me, I knew it was them. But I hate myself for forgetting them. I only hope to see them again and that they'll forgive me.
(...)
"Your ticket please sir."
Tae-hyung: Here.
"Okay, your seat is the seat with number 16 at the 3rd wagon."
Tae-hyung: Thank you sir.
"Thank you, have a nice trip."
(...)
Kim-young: You arrived?
Tae-hyung: Yes, I'm in the train to Busan now.
Kim-young: Oh, when you'll be arriving there?
Tae-hyung: At about, hm... 05:30 in the morning I guess.
Su-jin: Dadaaaa!
Tae-hyung: Haha, yeah Su-jin.
Su-jin: I misses youuu!
Tae-hyung: I misses you too!
Kim-young: Haha, say now bye to dada.
Su-jin: Bye dada, I loves you!
Tae-hyung: Bye Su-jin, I loves you too!
Kim-young: Bye honey, have a safe trip.
Tae-hyung: Bye love, I love you.
Kim-young: I love you too.
*hangs up*
(...)
My mind kept racing. It was about 3 in the midnight. But I couldn't sleep, my mind kept racing. Thousands of thoughts swimming in my mind.
Will they attend the reunion?
Will they remember me?
And most importantly...
Will they be able to forgive me?
I admit, I remember myself being so hard on them before we split up. I don't know why, what had happened. Only that I was in pain for losing my father. I don't remember much of what happened back then. The reason we lost touch. Only what did I to them, which I deeply regretted.
Since I couldn't sleep, I decided to visit the cafeteria. Maybe a hot tea would calm me down.
It was strange cause on my way to first wagon, where cafeteria was, I thought I saw someone, someone familiar, someone I knew.
My heart raced. I briefly noticed him but I knew he was important to me. In some way, he was important to me but I didn't know why.
As was waiting for my order, I was trying to figure out who it might was. I looked out the window. Then I heard a train honking. It was definitely not the one I was in cause the sound came from outside.
Out of curiosity, I walked closer to the window and straight ahead. I saw a light. A blinding light that seemed to be so close to me.
And then, it all went black...
︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵
(Act 3)
Ho-seok's POV
April 14th
"Hello, this is Busan Mental Hospital. How can I help you?"
Ho-seok: Hello, can you link me with room 322 please?
"Yes, of course. Hang on a second."
"Hello?"
Ho-seok: Mom?
MsJung: Ho-seok?
Ho-seok: Hello mom.
MsJung: Ho-seok!
Ho-seok: How are you doing?
MsJung: Now that I hear you, better.
Ho-seok: Haha... I'm glad mom.
MsJung: How are you doing? I haven't heard from you for a while.
Ho-seok: Yeah, I'm sorry for that... I'm doing... well. I'm coming home.
MsJung: You're coming to Busan!?
Ho-seok: Yeah, I'm coming to see you. My school will be holding a reunion and it's a opportunity good to come back and see you.
MsJung: A reunion, huh? That's nice!
Ho-seok: Yeah...
MsJung: I'll be waiting for you!
Ho-seok: I can't wait to see you mom.
MsJung: Bye!
Ho-seok: Bye mom, I love you.
MsJung: Love you too!
*hangs up*
[...]
April 15th
13:30
"The flight 304 from LA to Seoul is departing. Please, all passengers are required to board on."
(...)
It was the first time I was going back to Seoul in 7 years. After my father got arrested for domestic violence and my mother got hospitalised for mental instability, I left and I was so afraid to go back.
But really wanted to see my mother and that reunion invitation was the best opportunity. Since my employer doesn't give easily time off, this was the perfect excuse.
[...]
April 16th
02:20
"The train to Busan is ready for departure."
"Your ticket please sir."
Ho-seok: Here sir.
"Alright, your seat is the seat with number 07 on the second wagon."
Ho-seok: Thank you.
"Have a nice trip."
(...)
I was so close to home, yet I felt so far away from it. Everything I loved back there was destroyed. My father was in prison and my mother was imprisoned in a mental hospital because of him.
I hated that place yet, I loved it so much. I have to admit that I spent some good moments there, with my family and with them...
It's been what, like 7 years we lost contact. We have never talked since then. I don't know why all this happened. I don't remember why we split up. What had happened and we lost touch?
When I left, I wished that I had never have to go back there. But now, I couldn't wait to go back. Just so I win my life back, just so I can see them again.
Maybe it was my fault in the first place. When my father destroyed our family, I became cold and distant towards everyone I loved. I was so trying to keep it together but I ended up losing it all.
Maybe if I asked them for help, maybe things would be now different.
Maybe I wouldn't have to hate this town. Maybe I wouldn't have to leave.
Maybe I could stay and help my mother.
Maybe we would still be friends...
My life was just about surviving. I wasn't fulfilled with my job, I didn't have social life or anything to enjoy. I was just surviving each passing day.
I couldn't sleep. I just couldn't calm down. Jet lag wasn't helping.
Then, something else happened that kept me on edge.
I thought I saw someone. Someone familiar, someone I knew. He felt important to me.
As he walking down to the cafeteria, I recognised him. I followed just to be sure. It was definitely him!
Ho-seok: Ta-
︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵
(Act 4)
Jungkook's POV
April 16th
02:29:59
"The train to Busan is departing."
Jungkook: Oh no, am I late!?
"Don't worry sir, you just managed to catch the train. Your ticket please?"
Jungkook: Of course, here.
"Thank you. Your seat is the seat with number 61 at the last wagon."
Jungkook: Thank you.
"Have a nice trip."
(...)
It's been 7 years since I returned to Busan. There was nothing to hold me there. That's why I left for Seoul. I thought that maybe things would get better there but, I was wrong...
But things were worse there. After my father's company got bankrupt he started drinking and he became violent towards me and my mother. My mother, not being able to handle the abuse, she left and never came back, leaving me in that nightmare.
And while I was thinking that things couldn't get worse, after my mother disappeared, he started... touching me inappropriately... I don't even want to remember!
There was nothing else for me to do but leave too. If I stayed a bit longer there, I would have gone crazy. And that's how, one night, I took a random train that leaded me to Seoul.
The first months were awful. I worked as a delivery boy and I could barely pay for my motel room.
After about two years, I got enlisted and after hard training, I was one of the few to get a job in the army.
After that, my life progressively started to get better. It was never perfect but I was surviving. That's what mattered more to me.
I knew I was always missing something. I was missing my hometown, my old family, my friends who I left behind...
How were they doing now?
That's why I took the decision to go back to Busan. My school was holding a reunion and I was hoping that, maybe, just maybe, I could see them for one more time.
I didn't even said to them goodbye...
(...)
I couldn't calm down that night. My mind kept asking me so many questions.
How are they doing?
Will they go to the reunion?
Will they remember me?
Will they be mad at me for leaving?
And if so, will they be able to forgive me?
I really hope they did...
I missed them so much...
I was always wondering if I asked them for help. Would things be different now? Maybe I wouldn't have to ask myself these questions.
I was so tired but still, I couldn't sleep. I went to the cafeteria wagon for a hot cup of tea. Maybe it would calm me down and I could get some sleep.
It was strange cause when I leaving, I thought I walked by someone familiar, someone I knew, someone who was important to me in some way.
I tried to call his name, to confirm that it was him. I really hoped it was him.
Jungkook: Ho-seok?
But he didn't hear me. I followed and called again. This time I got as response a scream and then-...
︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵
(Act 5)
Yoon-gi's POV
April 16th
01:55
I didn't know how my steps leaded me to the train station. Maybe it was the alcohol that was leading me. Or maybe, it was my will that wanted to take me away from that hell I got myself into.
It has been about 7 since I left Busan. It's been 7 years since I went to Incheon. It's been 7 years since we split apart.
After Jin, Ho-seok, Jungkook and Tae-hyung left, I and the others stayed back. I was trying keep contact with them but one day, my phone couldn't reach their service. I tried to keep the others with me. I tried to keep it this way, to keep them with me. They were my only comfort.
My family had abandoned me. I don't know why but one day, I woke up and they were nowhere to be seen. I knew they never wanted to have me but I never imagined that they leave me alone.
That's why I was desperately trying to keep, those who stayed behind in Busan, with me, so I wouldn't be alone. I needed them.
I was depressed and they were my support. I wouldn't be able to live without them. But I failed. In the span of two months after the others left, Nam-joon left too and then, Ji-min.
And I was left alone. Again...
{...}
02:00
"The train to Seoul with final destination Busan is departing."
"Em sir, before you get on board, I need to see your ticket."
Yoon-gi: Y-eah, right... em, here.
"Okay, your seat is the seat with the number 01 at the first wagon."
Yoon-gi: Okay.
"Em sir, before you get in, I need you to dispose of that glass bottle. You know, for safety reason."
Yoon-gi: Right.
"Thank you for your understanding. Have a nice trip."
{...}
After everyone left, I had nothing to hold me back. Only bad memories that told me to leave. That's how I went to Incheon.
It was hard but I managed. Working as a clerk at a mini market I was able to afford a small studio apartment and make my ways.
But my life was far from perfect, good even. I was alone. I always hated being alone. I was always being left alone from my family and now I was left alone from my only comfort, my only reason to keep on living, my friends.
I failed to keep them with me and now, I was alone...
I tried to fill in the gap in my life, trying find them in another friend group. It was the worst decision I had ever made in my life.
I thought I found some friends but I got involved with a yakuza gang.
I got into drinking and smoking. I quited my job. I was stealing with them. They even got me to try drags.
One day, police caught us driving drunk. That's when I realised what I had turned into. And I hated it. I tried to leave but they threatened me.
I couldn't get away. I ended up harming myself, cutting my arms and thighs so I could cover my emotional pain that was too great to bare. I couldn't handle it, I wanted to leave. I hated what I had become.
I knew I would be in trouble now. For leaving without any notice. They would probably kill me when they found were I was. But I didn't care. Not anymore...
I only wanted to see them, even for my last time, even just for a second. To see that they were alright. That only mattered to me now. I was always so worried about them, I didn't wanted them to end up like me.
(...)
I was so tired, but I couldn't sleep. It was what, like 02:50. The train had already stopped by Seoul and started for Busan.
I couldn't sleep. And something kept me awake, kept bothering me.
I think I saw someone, someone familiar, someone I knew, someone who was important to me in some way.
I saw him from his reflection on the glass while I looking out. Or maybe I was imagining things because I was tired.
I didn't know and never learnt...
︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵
(Act 6)
Ji-min's POV
April 14th
MrPark: Hello?
Ji-min: Hello father.
MrPark: Ji-min! How are you doing? We haven't heard from you in a long time.
Ji-min: Yeah... I'm so sorry for this. Have been receiving my checks?
MrPark: Yes, your mother tho still doesn't agree with that.
Ji-min: How is she doing?
MrPark: I'll be honest with you. Doctors... aren't very optimistic. Her heart is in very bad condition.
Ji-min: What about the surgery.
MrPark: That's the thing... her heart is too weak to sustain an operation...
Ji-min: Oh... I see...
MrPark: She really misses you.
Ji-min: I do too, I miss you every day.
MrPark: How are you doing, you didn't tell me.
Ji-min: I'm good, don't worry.
MrPark: It's not easy.
Ji-min: How are you holding up?
MrPark: It's difficult but I manage.
Ji-min: I'll be visiting Busan soon.
MrPark: Really!? How so? For job?
Ji-min: No, I just miss you and want to see you.
MrPark: When?
Ji-min: Tomorrow I be arriving.
MrPark: I can't wait to see you. Your mother will be so happy.
Ji-min: I have to go. I must board on the plane.
MrPark: Okay, bye Ji-min.
Ji-min: Bye dad. I love you.
MrPark: Love you too. I won't tell your mom, I'll keep it as a surprise. She'll be so happy!
Ji-min: Haha, good idea father. Bye.
*hangs up*
It had been 7 years since I've set foot on Korea. It's been 7 since my mother got sick.
No, actually, she got sick ever since I was born. Her heart started to get weaker.
I was always blaming myself for that but my father always said not to worry cause she was getting better.
It was true, she was getting better. Doctors told us that if she continued her treatment a little longer, she would totally make a full recovery.
But she got worse. After my grandmother, her mother, died she got hospitalised and for past 7 years, there wasn't any progress to the better.
After that, I left. I went to China. There I went to college and got a job and soon enough I became the CEO of one of the biggest international companies.
I didn't care how great I might was. All cared about was to make money to support my family cause my father had to eventually sell his coffee shop to cover the medical expenses.
That's why I never came back. I was always too engrossed with job, trying to help my parents, cause if it wasn't for me, mom wouldn't be sick...
And I was too scared. I was so scared to see her. One day that I visited her, seeing her hooked up to so many machines that these only kept her alive, I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand being the reason that she was so sick. I ran out crying and never came back. I didn't think I was worth her love. That's why I disappeared from her life.
But I was wrong. One day she called me, asking me if this year I would come to her birthday. I cried when she told me that she wanted me there. I spent all my life believing that I was a mistake but she, she loved me. And I loved her so much. That's why I was going.
That reunion invitation was the best opportunity I had to get away from work. I wasn't going to go. I used it as an excuse for leave. Since I was the boss, I rarely had the chance for a leave.
{...}
April 15th
23:30
"The flight 403 from China to Seoul is about to leave. Please, all passengers are required to board on."
{...}
April 16th
02:20
"The train to Busan is ready for departure."
(...)
"Your ticket please sir."
Ji-min: Of course, here.
"Thank you. Your seat is the seat with number 25 at the 8th wagon."
Ji-min: Thank you.
"Have a nice trip."
[...]
It was late. I couldn't sleep though. I didn't know why but my mind kept telling to go to the reunion.
But how could I? How could I face them after so long, without even I calling them once? I made some very bad decisions in my life. How I could expect them to forgive me? To want to see me?
I didn't even said to them a proper goodbye, not them, not to anyone.
How we end up like this?
How did I end up like this?...
What had happened and we lost touch. I wish I could turn the time back. If I could I would stay and try to face my problems and not run away like a coward.
Maybe if asked for help? Would things be different?
I couldn't calm down. And something else that happened didn't help either.
While I was walking at the restroom, to the first wagon, I thought I saw someone, someone familiar, someone who was important to me in some way.
Curious, after I was done, I walked towards the direction where I thought I saw him.
But I never got to tell who it was...
︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵
(Act 7)
Nam-joon's POV
April 16th
03:00
"The train to Busan is ready for departure."
(...)
"Your ticket please sir?"
Nam-joon: Yes, here.
"Thank you. Your seat is the seat with number 20 at the 7th wagon."
Nam-joon: Thank you.
"Have a nice trip."
(...)
It has been about 7 years since I returned back to Busan.
My parents had an ugly break up. After my father got addicted to alcohol, he became violent with my mother and she asked for a divorce.
Since my father had relations with another woman, he agreed to this.
He wasn't pleased though when my mother won my custody over him. One day, he came to our home completely drunk. I was sleeping but awaken to my mother's screams. He was beating her. When I got down to see what was going on, I saw him stabbing her.
He got arrested and sentenced to prison for life. I, not wanting to stay with his parents, my grandparents, I left to Daegu. I didn't want nothing to do with him and this was my only option since my mother's died before I had a chance to meet them.
So I left and I went to Daegu to start a new life, away from the nightmare I lived.
The first years were hard. I was working part-time at cafeteria while studying to college.
But I graduated at the top of my class and managed to get a better job. But my life never changed, it still was hurting, what I gone through never faded.
And I also had a major regret...
That I left them. I left them without saying a word. I just disappeared. I probably worried them. I hated to know that I might had them hate me for forgetting them.
But I never forgot them. I always remembered and reminiscing our moments. They were my everything, what kept me from going crazy. But I ruined that...
That's why I was going back. After I received that invitation about our school's reunion, I was determined to fix what I broke or at least, apologise to them.
It was least I could do...
I knew that all of them were going through hard times then, but I chose to leave. I didn't thought of them and regret it every day.
I just wanted to get away from that place, that place where my mother used live. I couldn't handle being there.
But they never left me, when my parents were divorcing, they stood by my side, they helped me, they comforted me. And did I do in exchange? I left then when they needed the most.
I really hoped that they were going to go to the reunion. I wanted to see them. Even for one last time. Just to apologise. I know it won't mean much, but that's least I can do...
That night, I couldn't sleep. My thoughts didn't let me.
I decided to go to the cafeteria wagon, to grab something to eat. I didn't ate the whole day.
But on my way, I saw someone, someone familiar, someone who was important to me in some way. He walked by me but I couldn't recognised him.
I turned around, trying to catch a glimpse of him, to find out who it was.
But before I knew it, everything turned black...
︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵
Seok-jin's POV
April 16th
MsKim: Good morning Jin.
Jin: Good morning mom, dad.
MrKim: Good morning son.
MsKim: Want me to make you something to eat?
Jin: No I'll just make a coffee real quick.
MsKim: As you wish. I have made a cake, it's on the counter if you want.
Jin: Thanks mom.
"Ladies and gentlemen. We are sorry to interrupt our normal program to some unfortunate news..."
Jin: Mom, where's the coffee?
MsKim: It's on the cupboard next to the fridge.
Jin: Found it, thanks.
MrKim: Turn up the volume!
"...an accident happened early this morning. At 05:00 pm two trains, one passenger and one merchant train, collided head-on causing a huge explosion. The passenger trains' final destination was Busan while the merchant train was leaving from there with final destination, Seoul, and as it seems, the director forgot to adjust the bifurcation, leading to this tragedy...
Jin: Mom, where's the sugar?
MsKim: To the cupboard up from the over.
Jin: Alright, thanks.
MrKim: Shhhh, I'm trying to listen!
"...up until now we have 57 confirmed deaths and one missing person with only 10 identified as Park-beon Hoon, Gang-Hang, Park Ji-min...
When I heard this name, the cup I was holding, shattered on the ground...
"...Kim Tae-hyung, Jeon Jung-kook, Jung Ho-seok, Kim Nam-joon, Min Yoon-gi and Hwan-Cheng."
No, it couldn't be them...
MsKim: Oh my God Jin, weren't they your friends?
MrKim: That's terrible...
No, it was just a coincidence...
MsKim: Oh, Seok-jinnie...
No, it was just a joke. It wasn't them. It wasn't them. It wasn't them...
This was all a bad joke. It was just a joke. It couldn't be them, it couldn't be them!...
"Specialist say that the merchant train was caring, illegally, combustible cargo, thing that led to the explosion and the carbonisation of the first 10 identified victims and more..."
Jin: CLOSE THE DAMN TV!
I yelled at my father and ran up to my room. I couldn't stand listening to more of what happened in the accident. What happened to them...
I couldn't believe it. They were coming. They would probably come to the reunion! But they wouldn't be able to attend it now. Instead, I would be attending their funeral...
What an irony. I wished to see them, even for one last time and I would, for our last time forever...
That night I cried. I don't remember myself crying. But I was crying now, more than ever. I thought it was all just a dream. That I would wake up in the morning and we would go normally to the reunion.
But unfortunately, it wasn't...
Few days after the accident, here I was standing, in front their caskets. The reunion was cancelled and instead, we all reunited at their funeral.
I still couldn't believe that I lost them forever. I didn't realise that I was crying when I was called to say a few words for them before they closed the caskets.
Jin: I don't know what I can say. They said that I should only say a few words but how can I? They were my everything, my friends, my brothers, my support when I needed. And... I just left them, without even a proper goodbye. Till today, I can't remember the reason I left. I caused them so much pain... I-I hope... t-that they can forgive me. May their souls rest in peace...
I wasn't filling well. I felt dizzy. I was unable to stand on my own. And while I was getting off the podium, everything turned black...
︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵ ࣪ ⁺ ⚘ 𖥧𖣂𖥧 ⚘ ⁺ ࣪ ︵︵︵
(Final act)
Seok-jin's POV
April 16th 2014
*alarm clock*
I sprung up, gasping for air, covered in cold sweat.
It was all just dream after all. But it felt so real-...
*knock, knock*
Jin: Y-yeah?
MsKim: Jinnia, you up? You're gonna be late.
Jin: Late, for what? It's Saturday.
MsKim: Your school trip!
Oh shit, the school trip!
MsKim: Hurry up! Yoon-gi is waiting for you.
I immediately got up, took the quickest shower, got ready and left.
MrKim: You took all your stuff?
Jin: Yes.
MsKim: Okay, have fun. And be careful!
Jin: Of course. Bye mom, bye dad!
And I hurriedly exited my home. Yoon-gi was waiting for me outside. I ran towards him and hugged him.
I was still pretty shaken from my dream, I was so relieved to see that he was alive, that nothing was real.
Yoon-gi: Woah, easy there.
He said and hugged me back.
Jin: I want you to know that I'll always be by your side. I will never leave you or the other's. I'll stand by your side to happiness and sadness. I want to know that.
Yoon-gi: I do know that Jin. Same goes for you too!
He replied with a bright smile.
Jin: I know.
Yoon-gi: That's good to hear. Let's go?
Jin: Yeah.
Soon enough, we reached the others. They were waiting at the central square.
Yoon-gi: Hey guys, we're here!
Jung-kook: Come on then let's go!
Ji-min: Yeah, you're late!
Tae-hyung: Mr Bang won't like it if the class lose the ferry because of us.
We approached but I didn't notice that tears were streaming down my eyes.
Ho-seok: Jin, are you crying?
Only then, I noticed, I felt the tears on my fingers.
I was just so happy and relieved to know that everything was just a bad dream, a nightmare.
Jin: Guys, I want you to know that I love you all very much. And when you might need me, I'll be there for you. Please, don't ever hesitate to tell me if you need help. I will always be there, for as long as you need.
Jung-kook: We know that hyang.
Nam-joon: Yeah, you always help us.
Ji-min: And we'll always be there for you too.
Ho-seok: So, tell us, why are you so upset?
Tae-hyung: Yeah, are you okay?
Jin: Yes. It's nothing, just a nightmare I saw. Where we all splitted up.
Yoon-gi: Tch, that's never going to happen, I won't let it!
Tae-hyung: Yeah, but we'll lose the ferry!
Nam-joon: You're right let's go. It's our last excursion!
Tae-hyung: Don't be sure.
Ji-min: Em, it's our last year in school.
Tae-hyung: We don't know that. We may not graduate.
Yoon-gi: Don't say that! I don't want to be in that place for one more year!
Nam-joon: Then study hard.
Yoon-gi: Easy for you to say! You're Einstein!
Nam-joon: No, I just study hard.
Seeing them like this, so care free and happy, I knew somehow, that nothing ever could separate us. We would always be together, I knew that.
[...]
Mr.Bang: You're late!
Nam-joon: Sorry sir.
Mr.Bang: Come on, let's go. We're already behind schedule because of you!
Tae-hyung: We're already behind schedule because of you~
Mr.Bang: You said anything?
Tae-hyung: No sir.
Ji-min: Hahaha!
Jin: Come on guys!
Jung-kook: Where do we leave our suitcases?
Yoon-gi: How should I know?
Ho-seok: That's why he didn't ask you.
{...}
*hong-hong*
"The Sewol ferry with final destination Jeju Island is ready for departure."
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EPHEMERALLY YOURS ı 𝓞𝟏 ⧽ i could be a good mother, and i want to be your wife
──── ၇͜ᩘ 𔒌 ﹔ pairing — player!csb x pregnant!reader
SYNOPSIS ⧽ you were alone. alone and pregnant, no parents or friends to support you. whoever the father of your baby was, he wouldn’t bother to be in your life. with no money or a place to stay anymore, you’re faced with an opportunity to get the money you need. now, despite being surrounded by death, you meet a man who manages to make moments in a horrifying place something warm and tender.
WARNINGS squid game (two and three) au, reader is lightly based on junhee, but the plot that happens to her doesn’t actually happen to reader. ANGST, major character death, injuries, descriptive gore and harsh language, mentions of drugs, near death experiences, soobin being extremely loving since day one, hostile!reader (in a way), comfort/fluff, panic attacks, descriptive childbirth, falling in love/romance, death in general (it’s squid game c’mon..), ocs, horror settings, follows the same game and some events of s2-3 but not necessarily the same plotline, no bathroom brawl or lights out, child abandonment, thoughts about abortion, description of depression, miscarriages, mentions of illnesses and alcoholism, some idols are used as ocs and likely not accurate to their personalities, this is NOT fully focused on reader and soobin only it also explores the group dynamics so keep this in mind, slight transphobia nearing the end.
MDNI oral (fem receiving), public sex, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t!!), service top/soft dom soobin, missionary, fingering, petnames (sweet girl, baby, mama, etc.), safe words, body worship.
ᜆ wc ﹔ 38.9k
BETRAYAL BURNED BITTER AND HEAVY on your tongue. You forced yourself to swallow it down alongside your clumping thoughts, the ones that ached and felt like salt rubbed in open, raw wounds that never closed since they were inflicted onto you. You should’ve expected it, as friendly as everyone is, deep down the true wish of one’s heart always wins. It isn’t about charisma, empathy, nor the empty words they say when they say they want you alive and well. Deep down, you all hoped the other would die. That was the true nature of this game.
Beomgyu’s life looked drained out of him. Ever since you came back to the main room, full of bunks with the lingering ghosts of people who were once here but weren’t anymore sat atop of them. They would just be taken and occupied by other players. The thought left you quite eerie despite the relief that burst through your chest when you saw Soobin was alive.
But not all of you left that room.
Your mind was haunted by the sobs and pleas Kai directed towards Beomgyu, who by now, hadn’t even dared to look at anyone else in the face. He was curled up against the cold wall, knees tucked into his chest as if he were a child all over again— one that waited for his mother’s comfort. But maybe Beomgyu wouldn’t even see his mother anymore.
You could tell that he was blaming himself, but when you opened your mouth to speak, you just shut it back. What would you even say? I’m sorry he died, he’s in a better place?
What even is a better place?
What place could possibly be better than all of you leaving alive and together? You bit your lip, swallowing down your emotions in order to not let them flood you again. What was better than a tomorrow where all of you were together?
You weren’t sure when the lines between strangers and family blurred, tied and knotted together by the challenges and death. And yet, even as all of you mourned in silence, Beomgyu was carrying a heavier burden. He was closer to Kai more than anyone else was, and there wasn’t a moment where you hadn’t seen them apart. Most of all, the bright blue patch that was meant to secure his debts were paid off by the time he left burned through his tracksuit and into his skin. Like a choice that choked you and pushed your head underwater, one that crawled onto your skin and made home inside your skin until it took over your life.
All of you had cried long enough during the game, now all that was left was the grief.
"I hope we’ll be able to leave." Yeonjun’s voice was quiet, his body still tense from adrenaline. Eyes staring ahead and hardened like he had seen too much. "I really, really do. I don’t want any more of us to die."
"Maybe we will." Soobin’s eyes flickered from where he had been absentmindedly staring at the crowd. The guards hadn’t quite come in yet, you guessed, dealing with bodies was more complicated than coming to deal with a bunch of terrified players. "I counted the players by their patches—both sides. There’s fifty six blues and forty four reds."
"How do you know that’ll guarantee we’ll be able to leave after this voting?" Taehyun inquired, it was a fair enough point. You were outnumbered.
Soobin’s hand stopped the soothing movements on your side, he had been moving his thumb back and forth as if to tell himself that you were both still here. His hands refused to leave you ever since you two finally shared a kiss inside the mingle room.
"It looks like a big difference, but if you stop to think about it, it’s not that much." He paused, letting the words sink before continuing. "If twelve people change their minds, then we’ll already tie. And I’m sure that most people were terrified enough during mingle to change their minds."
"What guarantees that people on our side won’t change their minds?" Yeonjun asked.
"The cash prize is already very generous, since there are only a hundred of us left, it’s probably somewhere around thirty five million— something around that. It’s already good, and considering people were already voting to leave last round, I doubt they’ll go for a higher price when they were already trying to leave with a lower amount of money." Soobin explained, clearing his dried up throat.
Truly, what was more annoying than the expanding anxiety was probably how you weren’t constantly provided with water. No one was, because the games were about ‘equality.’
Pure fucking bullshit.
"Shouldn’t we try to go and convince the people on the other side, then?" Taehyun jerked his head towards the opposite side to yours, where all the others who planned to keep playing until they died whispered and talked in hushed voices like a plotting group of criminals.
Most of them probably were way past the average criminal, anyway.
The thought made your stomach twist into itself.
"No, it’s too dangerous." He wasn’t wrong— the people on the opposite side were borderline bloodthirsty. Without a doubt, they’d kill the people from their own side if it meant more money or living one more day. They’d just target all of you.
They already had a bone to pick with some of you from last voting, you could tell.
"They’re all willing to play no matter what. If we go over there, they won’t take it as well as we mean to come across." Something seemed to flicker in Taehyun’s eyes during that moment, something no one really caught on. Your gut felt weird, something was off but you couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong.
Something almost like satisfaction.
"So we just stay here praying they’ll change their minds?" You bawled your hands into fists, rubbing away the forming sweat alongside the soiled fabric of your tracksuit pants. "What if we lose?"
Your voice cracked, feeling uneven at places where you couldn’t sustain it anymore. You really didn’t want anyone else to die—but you swallowed whatever you could down your dry throat. It felt like a brick, hard to swallow and overwhelming like the rest of this game.
"We won’t." Taehyun suddenly asserted, jaw pulled taut before he released it like he had been profusely thinking for a split moment. "I’m sure of it."
As if right on cue, the guards in the pink suits that you grew to dread stepped inside through the loud clang of the metal doors. Mechanical, like they had been trained for this their whole lives. You wondered how sick they had to be to kill so naturally.
"All of you here passed the third game, we extend our hearty congratulations." You were tired of this voice by now. You were sure it wasn’t even real— altered by some sort of voice changer because they had to remain anonymous. "I’m now going to announce the cash prize."
You wondered if this was the same square guard that greeted you.
Just how many of them worked here, really? How big was this facility?
You grimaced at the thought you were all just entertainment. Your deaths, your broken pleas for one more moment alive, all a show for someone bigger to stare and laugh at like a casual television show.
With the buzz of the controller, no one moved. All thoughts that most of you would die if you kept going completely poofed from the minds of most, inexistent as the golden light shone across the wide expanse of the room, the gelid atmosphere suddenly tensing and pulled taut as the money started dropping like a fountain into the huge piggy bank that hung above your heads.
Soobin wasn’t wrong about the money count. It was enough to most of you— to all players who intended to leave this hellhole.
You forced yourself to narrow your mind down solely to the rising number of people against this game, on the way you still had the people you grew fond of next to you. To the possibility that Soobin would probably manage to leave this place with you, that you would both manage to raise your daughter—
No, not only yours.
Soobin had been more of a father than Sunghoon ever made himself to be. Even if she wasn’t his by blood, it doesn’t mean the title is his. Soobin’s face is tense, his usual smile and carefree expression vanished, leaving behind a quiet determination and a layer beneath it that spoke of fear. Still, he never once broke. Mentally, or from the hold of your hand unless absolutely necessary.
"Player 454, please cast your vote." Your eyes never left Yeonjun’s back as he pushed through the players standing at the front, his posture straight and uncaring, but you could tell he was probably scared too, at least deep down. "And to make sure the voting will solely be based on democracy, any type of interference is completely forbidden."
The buzzer of the red button being pressed down filled the room, no one dared to speak as Yeonjun took his respective side on the great, red X sign that illuminated his features and shone bright beneath his feet.
Your name is called next. You let go of Soobin’s hand, looking behind your shoulder to find him already staring at you. He didn’t speak, and didn't need to reassure you. He was already sure you’d all leave, and he wanted you to count on it.
A weight of a thousand stares pressed on your shoulders, your teeth clenched with the expectation of every single person in this room. You could practically hear their thoughts— wishing on your death in later games for being an easy target, begging you to not change your mind silently, begging for you to keep going only to exploit you later on.
You slammed the red button with a bit more force than necessary.
This time, you didn’t look back. Your chest burned with the tiniest of sparks, a hope that could be put out, but you were sure you wouldn’t. Not this time.
No one had dared to speak up during voting, the room was a mere sound of echoing footsteps against the polished and grimy floor and the buzzer that, every time pressed, decided the fate of all of you. The numbers flew up fast, no one hesitated, and those who did always pressed with a sag of shoulders of either relief or regret. Despite the fact you kept your face unmoving, your heart was spiking in your chest with every breath that took too long to leave as your eyes locked on the numbers.
Numbers. Your dislike for numbers would always haunt you. You just had one more reason to hate them now.
You were squeezing the life out of Soobin’s hand, the building anxiety you didn’t let your face show had to go somewhere. Every step that sounded in your ears was too loud, every press of the buzzer button made your breath lock or quicken.
You met Yeonjun’s eyes as the difference between votes was only two people apart. Two people changing their mind or staying put on the idea of living and you would tie. "Just two more."
He was grinning with excitement that breached through his nerves, fingers held up half expecting you not to hear him when you could. The room was already far too silent.
A tie.
Your stomach churned. You stared at the numbers that felt almost dizzying, the X side was one vote short because the last woman changed her mind.
"Player number one, please cast your vote."
"It’s Taehyun." Soobin breathed in relief, Yeonjun met your eyes with a smile so wide it was as if he had won the lottery instead of having to fight to possible death for this money. "We’ll leave."
His steps were slow, way too slow, as if he was calculating something. It didn’t sit right with you, but you forced yourself to smile just as wide to not rub Yeonjun off the wrong way. Then you darted your eyes to Beomgyu, who was behind him.
He was already staring at you. His eyes spoke what he hadn’t spoken since he set foot back inside the room. While Taehyun seemed to take an eternity and his own time to reach the front of the room, you slipped away from Soobin’s side— he held your wrist for a moment.
"What’s wrong?" He whispered, eyes flickering between you and the voting table.
You forced yourself to swallow down your uneasiness, the one that made even a smile hurt. "Nothing, just checking on Beomgyu."
He nodded, letting go with lingering eyes. "I need to tell you something—like, really badly." Beomgyu whispered in a rapid fire speech, his eyes wide, almost as wide as they had been when Kai had been shot in front of him. You frowned, stepping closer in order for him to whisper in your ear, concealing the private matter he desperately looked like he had been trying to get out. The air felt wrong, like it took an uninvited shift that only needed a simple invite.
"When Taehyun and I went into the room, the mingle one. He kill—"
The buzzer burst through your ears before Beomgyu could even finish his sentence, but it wasn’t the one you had expected. It wasn’t the buzz of salvation, it was the one that made your heart stutter in your chest. The one that made your world flip to the side before it was upside down. The one that felt like perfectly positioned knuckles on your ribs.
The difference in numbers as you slowly trailed your eyes towards the screen was dizzying, you had to force down the bile that came up your throat and burn in an acidifying way. You swallowed it down, hands shaky as you fought to keep your breakfast down— lunch, dinner, whatever the hell it was.
Time had lost its meaning a long time ago. It warped and bent right to the wind of whoever had the upper hand in the games.
Taehyun didn’t even look back at anyone, he wasn’t the type to look behind when he made a choice. He had not looked at Yeonjun, not at Beomgyu— not at Soobin. But he looked back for a split second to look at you. Your jaw tightened, feeling like it might snap as his eyes, so intense, burned straight through yours.
He smiled. A quick quiver of lips that was almost imperceptible, but it was there. The side of people who wanted to continue greeted him with cheers, smacking him in the back like he was someone great. It was a lie, everyone knew. People greeted one another on the continuing side in a meaningless way because of the same ideals, but it was a false illusion. One that was broken by the sharp blade of either a literal knife, or the knife of betrayal that burned and choked you alive before a gunshot or a pair of hands stronger than your own ever could.
You went through a whirlwind of emotions. Betrayal burned inside your heart, dampening the small spark of hope you carried so dear within yourself. Then it molded into something angry and ugly without you even meaning it to do so. You were clearly livid, Beomgyu was wordless next to you, mouth hanging open as if his words were on the tip of his tongue, but they were cruelly ended by the choice that kept all of you stuck in here.
"The results of the voting are 51 for O and 49 for X. Based on majority voting, we’ll proceed to the fourth game tomorrow. Thank you for your cooperation." The square masked guard announced in a monotone speech you unintentionally had already memorized, but it never ceased to make your bones weaken like jelly.
The players scattered, some breaking down once again, some didn’t have hope. The loud voices that boomed from the opposite side grated on your ears, and every time you replayed that smile in your mind, rage seemed to spread impossibly deeper inside of you. This was what you were afraid of. You knew that trusting too much meant a high chance of betrayal especially with not much time spent with one another, but still, it never once managed to make you not weak on the knees.
“Y/N, come on. Let's go sit down.” Soobin’s voice called out from all the haze of thoughts and bitter sentiments. “We’ll figure it out.” His voice was strained, you could tell Soobin was pissed. He wasn’t as untrusting as you were, maybe this stung harder on him than it did on you. Despite that, he still managed to put on the same front he always tries to put on for you. Someone had to remain level headed here, even if it was hard.
“I can’t believe he just– fucking hell.” Yeonjun hissed, steps a bit too quick for someone who was supposedly fine. “That fucking asshole.”
“I’d say he had his reasons, but he didn’t even try to look at us in the face.” Soobin sighed, free hand pinching the bridge of his nose as your footsteps climbed over the steps onto the small, somewhat safe haven you built with what you had. Anything was better than nothing within these games. “Has he been using us all along?”
“Why would he?” You breathed out, attempting to gain a semblance of calm. You really did want to give Taehyun the benefit of doubt, but his choice didn’t make any sense in your mind. If he had possibly been using all of you, then what for? And what could possibly have made him change his mind? The only solid reason you had in mind was because maybe he needed an initial alliance, however, if he wanted to just dump all of you, then why would he even form one? The further you went down the rabbit hole of thoughts, the further you seemed from an actual answer. And truly, you really doubted Taehyun, now sitting down and from where you could see him talking with the biggest smile on his face with another player who had voted to continue, would bother explaining anything to you at all.
“I don’t know, but raising our hopes up just to crush them makes him one of the biggest assholes around.” Yeonjun scoffed, body thudding against the bed he was now sitting, the old springs from the mattress that creaked under his weight initiated the silence. Even then, it was still a silent conversation. What now?
You’d have to just survive, somehow.
“Depending on what the next game is, we could take him out for this.” Beomgyu whispered, almost as if he was embarrassed to express the fact he was okay with killing a teammate–a friend, who just happened to switch up on all of you.
“What?” You blinked, forcing your jaw back up. He had just lost one of his friends, how come he could be okay with killing Taehyun? “Beomgyu, do you have any idea on what you’re saying?” “He betrayed us, Y/N.” His eyes were sharp, words tinged with venom– the same kind he had been drowning in while mourning Kai in secret all along. “He’s not on our side anymore. He chose to continue, he saw Kai die, and he still chose to continue. Knowing how terrified Kai looked, knowing how scared everyone who died was. He’s choosing to side with whoever the hell the gamemakers are.” “No.” Soobin shook his head, hands fisting on the fabric of his once bright teal tracksuit pants. “Beomgyu, you’re mad, I get it–”
They weren’t as pristine as they had been when you first arrived here, now, they were stained with blood and spoke of use and the heavy burden all of you carried together. But then again, nothing was pristine here anymore. Not your shoes that squeaked and stepped over blood a thousand of times, not your mental stability, or your sanity. Money lost its value when it was gained by blood indirectly or directly splattered on your hands for necessity, and as you had once thought about, for entertainment of a bigger group of people ‘above’ you.
It was these small ticks that made people snap and severed ties.
“No, you don’t get it!” Beomgyu snapped, heads snap from both sides just as quickly towards you, but no one addresses it. It isn’t any of their business, either way. You couldn’t tell if he was being moved by grief, anger, betrayal, or more and all things all blended together in a recipe for disaster. “Since he died, all of you have been acting like– like it was expected. It shouldn’t have been! He knows he died, he saw Kai cry and still chose to continue this and crush our hopes! If anything, him dying makes him more guilty than I am!”
“Beomgyu, no one said anyone here is guilty. Least of all you.” Yeonjun spoke up after a moment of awkward silence, fingers nimbly picking at the strings that started to separate from the stitching of the sleeves of his jacket. “If you condemn him so much for this, then don’t stoop lower than him.” Beomgyu scoffed, he would have seemed completely pissed had his eyes not been shining, and not because of the lights that shone harshly above your heads as a contrast to the warm lighting the piggy bank holding money provided. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.” Neither of you attempted to stop him, you knew he was like this because he wanted to blame anyone but himself. But truthfully, there was no one to blame for Kai’s death but fate itself. Fate, the one thing that controlled everything and yet no one acknowledged it when things happened.
“He’ll come around eventually.” Soobin sighed, shifting to sit cross legged on the mattress. Time seemed to pass by way slower like this, the silence and lack of something as well as the tension was enough to cloud your brain. You managed a few bites of your food down, too. Though you didn’t eat everything, Soobin made sure to wrap half of his and your leftover kimbap in a single piece of aluminum before tucking it underneath a bunk next to the mattress you two were sleeping in just in case you got hungry later.
But something didn’t feel right.
When you initially grabbed the Kimbap, you didn’t receive just that. You eyed the silver cutlery neatly tucked next to the Kimbap, and something twisted in your chest, something that left your mouth with a bitter taste. No one eats Kimbap with a fork. It was simple, and yet deadly if you used it the right way. The way the ones in control wanted you to use it.
Your eyes quickly darted around the room, then, only then did you see. Some players were looking back and forth across the room before shoving the fork inside their pockets like it was sacred. Some hid the forks underneath their pillows, or stuffed them inside within the stuffing. You weren’t sure who was doing it for defense, or who was doing it for possible offense. But you gripped your own fork a bit tighter than usual.
They were doing this on purpose. Making you betray each other within the games wasn’t enough entertainment, apparently. It was disgusting, something you could look down on and turn your nose at. But to whoever was in control of this, it was like betting on horses.
"I think they’re going to try to kill each other." You whispered to Soobin, clenching your fork tighter. His puzzled expression clicked right onto understanding as he saw how protectively you held the fork. Who the hell eats Kimbap with a fork? "They’re making us eliminate each other and they know some will try."
"It’s just a matter of when."
Soobin unwrapped the fork he had initially planned to throw away, staring at it as if figuring out what to do with it. It didn’t matter if it was for defensive or offensive, the sharp, pointy teeth of the cutlery would make you kill nevertheless. He hadn’t thought much of it, you doubted that anyone had thought much of a fork being wrapped alongside a Kimbap. They weren’t dumb, the gamemakers. This was strategy.
They knew that most players who voted to continue and even more players who voted against were either too excited or too troubled by playing again tomorrow, either one of these feelings would make anyone not pay mind to the fork and focus on the day ahead. In a way, it was survival of the fittest. The smartest would realize and use it as an advantage over the people who were weak, not because they weren’t strong physically, but because they hadn’t realized fast enough.
"They’re trying to do everything to put us against each other." The fork you had in your hands was stuffed inside your pillowcase, carefully to the side to not poke you or Soobin while asleep, but also just close enough that you could reach out to it in case someone sneaked up on you. "Making us betray each other inside the games isn’t enough for them."
Glances were exchanged amongst the players on the opposite side, murmurs were spoken rather than actual coherent conversation, it wasn’t hard to notice they were planning something. Anything.
"That’s because we’re still in the games." Soobin looks unimpressed by now. Unlike you, who still managed to get surprised at the traps this place set or surprised at every single thing that turned out to be a worse outcome than the previous, Soobin looked like he had already gotten used to it. Nothing seemed to take him off guard anymore, it was more of a matter of how to handle it and how to carry on. "The games, to them, aren’t just the arenas they set up for us. We’re still playing, as long as we can kill each other, we’re still a show to watch."
"Do you think they got bored of watching us fight for our lives out there?" You snorted, but your mind was already thundering with different possible outcomes. "They want a bloodbath, not just for them to kill us."
"I wouldn’t doubt it. They just grabbed desperate people off of the streets and brought them here to be some kind of series." Soobin’s jaw clenched as he stared ahead, not at anything in particular. You really wished you could understand what went on inside his head, from the moment he saw you narrowing down to right now. You just could hope it wasn’t anything related to him sacrificing himself.
No, you told yourself. You wouldn’t lose him again.
"I really want to get out of here."
By now, it wasn’t just a want. It was a need. The grime clinging to your skin was enough for your nose to wrinkle whenever you acknowledge it, your muscles ached with every step, every staircase you went up, screaming at you to slow down and stop. But you didn’t, you never did. Hell, you were sure that your hair wasn’t just filthy with sweat, but also with blood. You weren’t battered down just physically, either. It was mentally.
Frustration and stress, the sickening dread that made your heart race every time and took over your body was constant. It felt permanent, the games designed so you’d feel as if you wouldn’t feel peace again. Like the only way to peace was to die. Because there were no winners in this game.
If you won, you were acutely aware that even if you left with Soobin, you’d be haunted by the souls of those who died here. Those who begged to be given another chance, people with families and distinct backgrounds. The thought of it alone was enough for something to jab at your heart.
"And we will." Soobin finally whispered after a second, the next time you met his face, he wasn’t so tense anymore. He had that look in his eyes, tender and yet almost solemn as they trailed down to your stomach. A life that against all odds, was still here. Pushing through with you despite all death revolving around. "It doesn’t matter if we have to play one or six games, I promised you we’d get out."
Soobin really wished he could believe in his own promise as much as you looked like you did. Even if he said it so fiercely, his promise rang hollow in his own ears.
"Isn’t it ironic?" You muttered, changing the topic to avoid getting your hopes up again. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Soobin, but deep down, you knew that somehow they’d make you two pick between one another to survive. One of you would die in this place. "There’s a life inside of me, unborn yet and so much ahead of her and yet.. she’s already surrounded by death before even starting her life."
Your hand drifted down to the curve of your stomach. Once you had been so excited to see her face, to feel her tiny hand wrap around your finger, to hear her cries and to finally see who you’ve been fighting for despite life throwing hell at you. But now, seeing the cruelty that went on so easily, you weren’t sure if your choice to keep her was right. Bringing such a fragile life into such a tainted world felt wrong, like you were just subjecting your baby to pain, even if it wasn’t here yet or if it wasn’t completely avoidable.
You loved your daughter, even if she wasn’t here, you did. But these small doubts, the ones that were like rotten fruits in a basket full of healthy ones that only would taint the whole basket, made you rethink your choices. That maybe Sunghoon was right, maybe you should have gotten that abortion.
"As ironic as it is, it reflects on your own personal strength, and her own." Soobin’s hand landed atop of yours, hesitantly and slowly as if you—no, the moment was fragile. "You never fail to surprise me."
"It’s just survival, there’s nothing surprising in it."
"But there is. It’s so much deeper than that, Y/N." For once, through the waver in his voice, you could see the cracks he had inside of him. Soobin wasn’t perfect by any means, he was still human like anyone else. Being level headed didn’t mean he didn’t have his own pains. The thing was that he managed to conceal them well enough that they’d never have to show up at all. At least not in front of others.
You didn’t speak, you watched Soobin suck in a breath. You didn’t press, if he wanted to speak or tell you anything, then let him do it on his own terms and pace. "When I was younger, maybe nine or ten. My mother was pregnant with her fourth child, we were all ecstatic. Pregnancy looked good on her because she loved the idea of bringing life into the world, to have something like a little bundle of joy to brighten her days." His throat bobbed, tight with the one thing he had never told anyone. "Long story short, she had a miscarriage. She took such good care of herself and yet—"
The way he had been trying to keep it cool was almost instinctual, to look at the high ceiling above your heads and blink away the tears by staring at the harsh, burning light. As if the tears were something to be ashamed of, something that should be kept caged. He didn’t need to speak any further, a sound or a syllable let out would for sure derail the force he was putting to keep his throat tight to force everything down. Being a leader to follow came with expectations, and expectations sometimes were destroyed by showing weakness.
Soobin crying wouldn’t mean you’d change your view of him. Because you wouldn’t, not at all.
Some of the players had already retreated to their beds, the once chaotic space that was filled with the weight of panic and triumph was now settling down to a silence. Faintly, the feminine voice from the PA system warned about sleeping time, though the both of you were too stuck in the moment to truly care.
You didn’t have words for it. How could you? You had never lost a baby, let alone a sibling because you never had anyone before. It had always been you. But you could feel a sliver of his pain at the thought of losing your baby—the way your heart gave a beat that went the wrong way. But you wouldn’t manage to realize the extent. You couldn’t tell him everything was alright, because some scars never truly faded and you knew it yourself. "I’m so sorry for your loss, Soobin."
You pressed your lips together, you had never seen over the course of the few days you spent together any trace of pain flickering across his features, least of all had you seen him express it. Knowing nothing would fill the void the past left in him hurt, but the one thing you could do was fill that in, or at least try to, with happier memories.
"What was her name?" You opted for instead, shifting in order to sit on your heels.
"It was going to be Choi Eun-seo." He rasped out, muffling a sniffle on the palm of his hand— trying to mask it for a sneeze.
"You told me it’s okay to cry. To not act like it doesn’t hurt." Slightly shaky hands lifted up from your lap to his face, almost like it came naturally to you. "Don’t act like this is nothing. Like losing your sister even if you had never met her is nothing."
His skin was warm, soft despite the battered look Soobin started to reveal. One that spoke of the fights he has gone through, mental scars that resurfaced like rubbing salt on wounds that burned despite being so well kept. The warmth beneath your thumbs that moved in gentle caress dampened, like a crack in a dam.
His tears fell silent, almost as silent as his house was for years. He was pulled almost magnetically towards you, head lowering until it found a place of comfort in your chest. There was a lingering awkwardness to the position, but neither of you seemed to mind. Soobin’s tears weren’t loud, rather, they were full body wrecks and shivers as your fingers carded through the strands of his hair. He had been here for you more times than you could count, for once and more times in the future, you hoped to be someone he could trust enough he didn’t have to be strong constantly.
Both souls between the two of you seemed to slowly unravel and crawl away from their hiding. It was as delicate as it was beautiful.
Soobin had never mentioned how life became hard after that, how he had to grow up quicker than other kids his age. His siblings left a few years later, they didn’t keep much contact, they just abandoned the thick air of grief that clung to the walls and lingered in the air from the dawning sun to the rising one. Nothing changed since Eun-seo died, they’d never even met her, it was pointless to mourn—that’s what they said. But his mother took a hard blow, one she never recovered from. He never saw the smile on her face to which he had inherited again.
His father tried to remain strong-headed, but Soobin could see how every piece of him crumbled every other moon. The family dynamic shifted. The death of someone so small and precious made everyone in the family drift apart in different orbits. At last, his father died a year later. His family wasn’t doing the best financially, Soobin was elbow deep into studies and despite his young age, trying to work shifts at local convenience stores. Life was hard, but his brain convinced him that the next to be would be a better day.
He didn’t receive a big funeral or speeches, only the silence from his own wife’s lips. Eyes too hollow to produce tears she was drained off years ago, Soobin cried what she hadn’t cried. It wasn’t even his body that had been buried in that casket so deep beneath the ground, it was just his arm. In reality, his body was mauled by a machine he went too close to, the company shut down the next day and the only thing he had gotten back was his arm.
His mother— God, his mother. If she was bad, she stooped a level below worse. Barely leaving bed, her hair would tangle in knots and a foul smell would often rise from her bed. Her form was forever imprinted on the mattress, unmoving for most days unless Soobin dragged her out to the bathtub to carefully wash her hair with gentle fingers and barely any shampoo, a small luxury they could barely afford.
The same way you were doing to him now.
Faintly, from the sounds of tears and the heavy weight of expectations shedding from Soobin, the sound of light footsteps came down against the metal. The lights dimmed until all that was left was the glow that emanated from the floor and gentled as it reached the bunks due to the lack of proximity, concealing the two of you tangled in an embrace for the most part.
Yeonjun was sitting at the steps at the entrance of the carefully crafted ‘haven.’ It was an illusion of safety— guarding. Stronger players could easily crush that and all of you knew it. But for now, it was more than enough to conceal what you all had built together.
You held Soobin close until he was nothing but mere sniffles, your tracksuit jacket soaked from what had been years of built up pain carried on a pair of firm shoulders. It didn’t matter how strong Soobin was, no one should carry all of this by themselves.
When he finally pulled away from your chest, it was like something squeezed your heart. Eyes red rimmed, face flushed. But despite it all, he looked more relieved than ever. Lighter.
"Thank you."
"You don’t have anything to thank me for, Soobin." Your lips curled in a semblance of a smile, your hands never quite leaving their earlier positioning. "It’s what.."
Your words died on your tongue, because what were you really? It dawned finally that despite the kisses and shared glances, the late night comforts, they didn’t have a label to them. The time you barely had here never allowed it.
"Lovers do?" He spoke almost hopefully in a bated breath, air stuck halfway through his chest in a way he hadn’t realized.
"It’s what lovers do." You repeated, a laugh of something wrapped around disbelief and equal relief bursting through your chest as quiet as you could manage it. Love was a gentle, unexpected thing, you realized. Some part of you actually felt glad to join these games.
"When we get out of here," When, not if. Speaking as if the future had already been decided. "We can go anywhere we want. I’ll find a way to keep you as comfortable as possible, then, you can raise your daughter without ever worrying about struggling again."
"Our." You corrected, despite the earlier admission of being lovers, everything felt foreign.
"I— what?"
"You’re more of a father than he could be." You forced down the nervousness that coated your voice, you couldn’t tell whether he was shocked, pleased, confused—
"You’re not kidding? Please don’t joke around like this." Soobin pleaded, tethering himself to the idea of actually being what you had offered him.
"I’m not kidding, Soobin." Heart hammering as strongly as it could against your chest, not sure where you became uncaring of the show of emotions you put on display. This was what whoever was in charge of this wanted, emotions and entertainment. But this wasn’t for them.
It was for you. For Soobin— for your daughter.
Your lips clashed onto his right afterwards, passionate in a way it felt suffocating as it was freeing. Warmth spread through you as his hand held your face tenderly, pulling you closer with a breath of contentment. His lips were soft, moving in a gentle rhythm against yours like they belonged against yours. He felt like home, even if it took you a few to really grasp that concept.
The air lacked, your lungs burned from the sheer exertion from holding the passion. And yet, neither of you wanted to pull away. His tongue prodded against yours lips, parting them as his tongue tangled onto yours. The idea that this might be the only and last time you’d have him made you cling to him a little tighter, like holding onto him would make the moment stop forever. Even if time didn’t stop forever for you, you’d hold onto this and hope there would be more like these moments in the future.
Just not in the dark of a lobby room filled with other people, people whose souls were ugly with ignorance and broken by poverty and their own choices.
A moan, quiet but audible to both of your ears, escaped your lips. His hands were everywhere, trying to memorize the shape of you against him with the shortest amount of time. If Soobin was going to die, he wanted to die with the softness of your body and the dip of your waist forever etched into his memories. They slid down from your cheeks to your neck, all consuming but careful, exploring every inch of skin he could touch.
For the first time in months, you could feel the dampness already building in your panties. Your thighs pressed together as his fingers gripped the zipper of your tracksuit jacket, bringing it down quickly, a contrast to how patient he was trying to be. How patient he wanted to be with you.
His hands maneuvered you against the mattress, pressing you against the material that was once so uncomfortable that now felt like nothing. He settled carefully above you, trying to keep pressure away from your bump. Your lips finally parted from one another moments later, chest heaving from the air you both had been stealing from one another and bursting with emotions neither of you could fully convey.
His hands were already pushing your shirt up to rest just beneath your breasts, never fully off. If you were being watched, he’d only allow so much of you to be shown. His frame could easily cover most of you from certain angles— he wanted to keep it that way despite wanting to see all of you.
"Can I?.." he whispered, fingers hooking onto your sweatpants with a silent permission. As much as he wanted this, he wanted you to want him too. Even if his mind was telling him this might be the only and last time he’d have you.
"Yes." Your breathless voice managed out, wheezy and heavy managed out. As if to enjoy the moment as much as he could, he stripped you from your sweatpants and underwear and neatly folded them to the side.
"Can you stay quiet for me, sweetheart?" He murmured, already making a slow descent down your body.
You nodded, head jerking with desperation you could barely contain as his lips met the plush warmth of your thigh. His breath was hot and heavy against it, making you squirm.
"Words." He demanded softly, never quite touching you where you needed him.
Embarrassment flushed through your cheeks, not because you were ashamed of speaking, but because this was entirely new. You hadn’t been treated like this with Sunghoon for all of the time you were together, and now Soobin was just sweeping you off of your feet with simple acts of love.
"I can, just—fuck, Soobin. Pleas—" Your words were cut off abruptly with a sharp gasp, your hand quickly covered your mouth as Soobin finally pressed his tongue flat against your slit.
Your thighs quivered slightly, his tongue so good pressed against you that you could cry out of relief. Your other hand, the one that fisted the poorly made material of the blanket given up aside until you were white knuckled, drifted down to tangle in the matted mess, now a little more manageable thanks to your earlier ministrations of your hands in his hair.
"You’re already so wet, fuck." He groaned against your folds, tongue parting them. He lapped at your pussy like it was the best meal he had in days, desperate and gentle all at once. Plump, soft lips wrapping around your clit and sucking as his arms—those strong, firm arms that would hold both you and your daughter once you left these games, wrapped around both of your thighs, pressing you down against him further.
"Soobin—" you gasped against your hand, pleasure exploding through your body. "Feels so good,"
"You taste so good," His tongue dragged down to your entrance, prodding as his nose bumped against your clit. Your heels dug firmer onto the mattress, biting your lip to conceal your noises. "Can’t believe I’ve had a taste of you only now."
The soft, purple-ish lighting from the mingling, bright shining colors in the middle of the room gave you an almost ethereal view of his face. He was so pretty it was unfair. Your hands brushed his bangs away from his face, his eyes, bigger than usual from this angle, shone back to you with the sheer weight of devotion he proved everyday so effortlessly.
It made your chest ache.
His face buried impossibly further against your pussy, tongue dragging back up as one of his hands left the plush curve of your inner thigh. His eyes met yours once again, this time watching for any discomfort as his middle finger pushed into you slowly.
You let out a silent cry, struggling to stay quiet. Whether it was from the fact his fingers alone were big or because you hadn’t allowed yourself the simple act of being touched by someone in months was the reason for you being so sensitive, you didn’t know. But you knew it felt good despite the initial burn.
He slowly inserted another finger next, pumping in and out of you and stretching you open tenderly as he eased the discomfort through circles and sucks at your clit. It left you dizzy, the pain bending to give way to pleasure you denied for so long.
"I’m so close, Soobin. Fuck—" You whimpered, hips rutting down to the best of their abilities as his tongue doubled down in effort. The all-consuming feeling of your orgasm built up in coils inside your stomach, stretched impossibly tight as your thighs clenched around his head. Quiet moans now being muffled in a half-assed way by your hands left you in strings, singing in pleasure to Soobin’s eager ears.
One last suck at your clit, and you completely unraveled beneath him. Back arching off of the mattress, eyes pressing closed, anything to even out the overwhelming pleasure. Soobin lapped up your release eagerly, helping you ride out your orgasm until you were boneless against the mattress. Then, only then, did he finally pull away from your cunt.
His chin was completely drenched with your juices. Leaving his lips moist as his hair mused once more. "Good?" He murmured with a contented, dumb smile.
"More than good." You managed out once you finally regained a firmer grip onto reality once again. His hands brushed the curve of your stomach, kissing in an almost worshipful way. His eyes wet, excited like a little kid on Christmas eve.
"Hey, baby." He mumbled, fingers trailing circles absentmindedly along your skin. "I’m here now, okay? I won’t ever leave you or your mama."
Your breath became shaky, not sure which part of you was throbbing the hardest at his words. He was so meaningful, taking on a responsibility that wasn’t his to bear but he made it his own since he saw you. You wanted him. Not just now, but for the rest of your life. Until the world became as dull and gray as the strands of your hair, until your heart gave its final beat.
"I’m excited to meet you. So be good to her, okay? She’s trying really hard for you." One last kiss against your skin that was already touched through its whole expanse by his curious hands and lips, and he was already hovering above you again.
When your lips met, it gave you hope. It was slightly more desperate, harder, like he couldn’t hold back anymore. You didn’t want him to, you wanted everything he had to offer and more. You closed your eyes, tasting yourself on his tongue as he moaned between shaking lips. All you felt was him, everywhere and unbelievably never enough.
"Do you have a safeword you use?" He asked between kisses, thoughtful as he had always been.
"No."
Quite frankly, you never considered the use of one before. You found it unnecessary— a minor thing you never cared for. Not until Soobin made you care and crave it.
Being loved by him meant having gentle, small things ingrained into you that you would slowly crave.
"Velvet," he finally pulled away, hands parting your thighs to settle between them. "If you want me to stop at all, just say it, and I’ll stop."
You nodded, breathless by his sheer consideration. Without another moment to spare, his pants slid down his legs, boxers coming off next, a wet patch right at the hardened crotch. You couldn’t help the way your eyes widened at the sight of him.
He was big, flushed red and leaking in a way that made you nearly salivate. How could someone be carved out and sculpted so perfectly?
"If anything at all—" he started, worry coating his voice. Not only because he didn’t want to hurt you, since he was aware he was bigger than most people in all aspects, but because he didn’t want to hurt the baby.
"Soobin, please. I’ll be fine, I promise." You whined, aching to have him inside of you already. "I need you."
His words died right on his throat, fully taking his time to catch the view of you beneath him. Eyes hazy and wanting with pleasure, legs parted open just for him, hair spread around your pillow, flushed and pliant just for him.
Slowly, almost reverently, he pressed his tip against your entrance. One of his hands held the back of one of your thighs for balance, pushing in with a groan muffled by his teeth biting the bottom of his lip.
You gasped, the stretch burned more than you had initially expected. Sensitivity mixed with pain with an underlying sense of pleasure, heavy enough that it made tears sting your eyes, your hands scrambling to grip anywhere. His shoulders, his biceps— every firm part of him. He moved slowly, ducking down to press kiss at your neck as your head tipped back to allow him space.
"You’re doing so good, taking me so well." He whispered through hisses, hitches of his own voice. "My sweet girl, I’ll take such good care of you."
Your mind blanked as his fingers met your clit in circles, easing away some of the tension until he bottomed out. You felt incredibly full, his dick filling parts of you that no one has ever reached and it was so overwhelming in the best way.
Soobin let out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been lacking, taking a moment to let you adjust in silence.
"Please," You whimpered, breathy against his ear. He nodded, compliant as he moved in shallow, experimental thrusts.
"You’re so good for me, sweetheart." He groaned, pulling out until his tip was the only thing left in you— before pushing in. It knocked wind from your lungs, a breathy whine leaving your lips. "When we get out of here, I’ll give you such a good life. Okay?" He whispered, tender words and promises that were bound to break your bones with their heaviness.
"Me, you, our baby. I’ll make you the happiest one alive, maybe even put a ring on your finger eventually. Would you like that, hm?" You clenched tight around him, staring at his eyes as if he hung the stars in the sky just for you. And in a way, he had. Even if they weren’t literal stars.
"Yes— fuck, I want that." You cried, legs wrapping around the firm line of his waist as you felt another orgasm build up. "All of you, please."
You were blabbering, drunk in your moans that just kept rising. Soobin’s lips met yours desperately, partly to drown out your noises but also to silence his own. "Then you’ll have it. That, and me." He promised, another promise thrown to the pile as his thrusts grew faster, the wet smack of skin making you two concealing your noises futile.
Fuck it, you thought. Let them all hear.
With your heart inside your throat, you spasmed around him. Finding your release in the safe haven of his lips that were almost like a secret salvation, something meant just for you.
Soobin’s breath was ragged, fast. He kept his ears open, trying to hear any sign of you saying the safeword— to push him away, but all you could do was hold him tight and clench impossibly tight in spasms around him, drunk and carried away by pleasure. "Shit, shit. You’re so tight—Baby, where do you want me?"
Despite his own desperate urge to cum, he still made sure it all wrapped around what you wanted.
"Inside." You whined, his name leaving your lips in strings of what were a silent prayer.
With a final thrust, he finally came after a series of stuttering thrusts. His head pressed against your shoulder, nuzzling your neck next as he inhaled the scent of you beneath all of that grime and death. Catching his breath.
"I love you." He pressed a kiss against your neck, followed by many others until he could see your face. Blissed out in pleasure, finally relaxed and his. "So, so much."
Slowly, he pulled out of you. Sliding his shirt off and using water from the water bottles they had given you to clean you up to the best of his abilities. After dressing you, only then did he collapse next to you with a satisfied smile.
"I want her name to be Eun-seo." You whispered, half-asleep as you pressed as close as possible to him as you could. You felt Soobin tense, processing your words. "If you’re okay with it."
As the tension slowly drained from him, his expression morphed from disbelief to a love so unbearable you were sure both of you would drown in it. He then laughed, the kind of carefree laughter that felt almost as if you weren’t amidst a death game.
"I’d love that." He pressed his lips against the top of your head, arm draping over your waist as the other caressed your stomach. The baby wasn’t his biologically, but it didn’t make her anything less than his daughter, too. "L/N Eun-seo, or Choi?"
"Choi has a nice ring to it.." you smiled, sighing warmly against the heated skin of his neck. "We can keep the Choi."
"Choi Eun-seo.." Same name, completely different lives and fates. His chest twisted, not in pain, but in something far more freeing. "Mommy and daddy already love you."
That night, you slept more at ease than you had any other nights. Wrapped around the person you least expected to love.
THE NEXT MORNING shattered the illusion of complete safety. No one, surprisingly, had attacked anyone. But the presence of the forks were still there, still a threat. It was only a matter of time until something burst in order for the attacks to start. The violins from the rising alarm rang in your ears, causing you to finally rise. Anxiety was easy to settle over your body, feet moving because they had to go towards the breakfast line. You managed to eat both offered sweet breads, two because Soobin was still hellbent on giving you his food. You hadn’t seen Beomgyu earlier that day, nor Yeonjun, but you assumed as the games started, they’d resurface.
You hadn’t seen Taehyun, either. But you knew he was smart. And if he was against you, then just how easily could he kill you?
You made your way up the steps despite the slight tension in your legs, the pathway was always silent. But now, it was heavy with tension, because sides were more distinct and segregated than they’d ever been. The design of this place was already making you sick, but you were all sadly stuck here because of the choice of many.
The room you stepped in wasn’t colorful, not like the others. It was just a slight glimpse, though. The place was too cramped to even properly hold up a fight. If this was about entertainment, then all of you would die in a pretty damn boring way. Nevertheless, the walls were painted pitch black. The yellow that was the floor was a harsh contrast, making the colors clash. You walked in through a knife shaped wall, a Gumball dispenser stood amidst it. Red balls and blue ones blended together, mixing with the colors of your patches. Though, this time, the patches weren’t chosen. They were randomly assorted.
It was plain in a way that didn’t catch much attention, maybe the point was to seem underwhelming. But it didn’t do much to your heart that had been beating in palpitations up the steps, now racing further.
"Welcome to your fourth game. This game will be played in two teams, but before we start the game, you will be divided in said teams. Please, politely take turns drawing a ball from the gumball dispenser ahead of you."
Lines were formed, you stood right in front of Soobin as person per person drew a ball. Some blue, some red. You weren’t aware of the meaning yet, but you knew that it couldn’t be good. Still, you couldn’t match a small clue to a game from your childhood.
When it was your turn, you twisted the cold metal handle, watching as the balls shuffled and one dropped with a light sound. Your hand still rested above your stomach— a habit you caught that felt like reassurance now.
Red.
You examined it for a moment too long, eyes narrowing at it as if it was something more dangerous. Then, you stepped to the side. Soobin was next— blue. His eyes didn’t hesitate to meet yours, your hand tightened around the ball you were holding. There was no way this would end up well.
"What are we going to do?" You whispered, trying to hold back the panic rising within your voice. "This can’t be good."
"It’ll be fine, we’ll find a way." Soobin reassured, looking at whoever was next. Player 036, Wonhee. He remembered her from mingle and the bathroom, though now she looked far more worn down than ever. These games were clearly getting to her. She was red.
"See? You’re not entirely alone. Don’t worry so much, especially because we don’t even know what game it is."
Once everyone was sorted out in groups, you stood apart by the color of the balls you had gotten.
"The game you will be playing is hide and seek. The blue team must either find the exit and escape within 30 minutes, or stay hidden from the red team until the time is up."
How the hell were you going to kill each other playing hide and seek? Your mind thought about options, one far worse than the other. All of them still meant you were against Soobin.
"What about the taggers? We just need to find the hiders and that’s it?" Wonhee questioned, the first time you had heard her voice since mingle. She looked alone.
Has she lost everyone?
You felt bad, but you couldn’t pity her. If you did, it would be exploited by anyone or the higher ups in this game.
"The red team, the taggers, must find members of the blue team and kill them within thirty minutes." The guard instructed, gasps rising within the room.
Your blood ran cold. You stood a moment too long frozen hoping that you, despite the clear ‘fairness’ of the rules amongst players, wouldn’t have to kill Soobin. You didn’t even look at him. Couldn’t.
You didn’t want to see him telling you it was okay, because it wasn’t.
"And what happens if you don’t kill?" Your voice came out, raspy and nervous.
"If you fail to kill any opposing players? you will be eliminated."
The blue team had been giving boxes, those kinds where you pull the side latch. It was big, looked promising, however the red team— your team, hadn’t received anything. As much as you didn’t want to play by the rules of this game, you didn’t want to play this unfairly, either.
"What is this?" You watched from the corner of your eye as player 060 held up a key, compared to your offered knives, this seemed unfair. And almost everyone was in the blue team, at least, who you knew. Yeonjun and Beomgyu. They were standing side by side in blue vests with their player number attached to the middle of their chests. Easier to call out their numbers if they were eliminated rather than actually checking their bodies under the vest.
"You have been given keys to doors in the arena, to which can be used to go through doors. But once a door is unlocked, it cannot be relocked."
"So they can hide somewhere and use their keys to escape? They have it much easier!" Someone complained, a person from red. He wasn’t wrong— plus, finding people while being pregnant as a tagger left you at a disadvantage. You couldn’t exactly chase after hiders with bare hands without them killing you first.
"On top of that, we have to kill people with just our hands." Another player agreed, the murmurs of complaint filling the room in a choir.
"That’s right. It’s not like they will just roll over and ask us to kill them." Sunghoon, who had been standing a few rows behind you, boomed through all the noise. "How do you expect us to kill someone with just our hands?"
"We understand your concerns, that’s why we have prepared a small gift for the red team as well."
In front of you, a circle guard had already started to hand out boxes. To each side, there was a color. You grabbed your own fingers hesitating against the side latch of the box to find the blade of a knife, it was a contrast to what people from the continuing side acquired, theirs being a key.
The knife gleamed practically menacingly under the bright, white lighting that reflected across the four expanses of the wall. It was sharpened, made to build and dig into skin to cut it open. The handle was a shade of shock pink fading into slight red, adorned by spirals of blue that wrapped around it. Nearing the blade, a design almost akin to a bird’s wings wrapped around both sides of the bottom of the blade, the middle being a light pink arrow.
It was beautiful, you couldn’t lie. But one of the laws in nature meant that if it’s beautiful, it could be deadly.
That applied to this.
You gripped the handle of your blade as you held it up, eyes narrowing as you examined it. Surely, it was built to create damage without mercy. It was just up to the red team players whether they would be merciful or kill to torture.
Entertainment was entertainment one way or another.
"The red team can use knives to attack the blue team, however, the members from the red team are strictly forbidden from attacking each other." The square guard then announced, desperation dawning onto the faces of the hiders almost immediately.
They had a cruel way of making you understand that no matter how hard you tried, you would have to kill to survive. The blood splattered couldn’t just be done by the guards, you had to betray indirectly, manipulate to take what you needed and leave without a trace before they kill you. The squelch of blood wasn’t limited to just the guns or machinery the guards in this facility carried around so proudly.
"Shouldn’t you give us a shield or something?! You give them knives and expect us to just—run around without a weapon?"
"I understand your concerns. However, be aware you can use the key to open a door and escape." The guard reminded the uneasy hiders. While they could open doors, you’d be the one getting screwed over by having to run after players to ‘tag’ and kill them.
"That’s right, just hide somewhere and you’ll be fine!" Someone counter argued, not out of pity, however. It was mocking, almost superior. You hated how the initial hope that you all clung to when the games started faded onto a bloodthirsty mess of mannerisms the game made you built for survival.
"Before we start the game, you may switch roles with someone on the opposing team."
Your head finally snapped towards Soobin, so quickly you were sure you could hear a bone pop and pull from the sudden movement, ringing in your ears. He was still holding up his key, admiring or analyzing it, you weren’t sure which. But you could practically see the gears in his head turning.
"You can swap your items and vests upon mutual agreement, but once the game starts, removing or trading your vests will be completely forbidden and will result in the elimination of the players from both parties that participated in the ordeal." The guard took a pause, whether the guard was watching how the information sank to see the desperation in the face of players or to just bask in it, you weren’t sure. "Please make your choice carefully."
Slowly but surely, the players from the blue team came like a force towards the red team players. Some begged to swap, some used threatening and manipulation. It was useless, a knife could always break the string of words, it didn’t matter whether the string was soft or harsh, a string is still a string.
"Partner up with me." Your eyes flicker up to SUNGHOON, pinching your brows together as he held up the blade right next to his head as if it made the situation any better.
"This isn’t a team game. I don’t need help, least of all yours." You replied bitterly, almost as bitter as the bile that you forced down each day. The feeling acrid and strong. "I don’t trust you, Sunghoon. Mind your own business, I can take care of myself."
It was infuriating. Sunghoon seemed to try to breach through your already built life without him like he hadn’t done anything, like this wasn’t his fault as much as it was yours. You wouldn’t let him in again, not now. Especially not now. You turned away before he could say another word, eyes scanning the clumped groups of players for Soobin.
"But you should. Listen—I’ll make sure you guarantee a kill, I know you won’t be able to do anything with that knife." He interrupted, gripping your wrist and positioning himself in front of you.
"Don’t act like you know everything about me."
"Maybe I don’t, but I do know one thing, Y/N." He paused, seriousness finally settling onto his face in an almost eerie way. "You can’t kill anyone. They’ll kill you before you kill them."
You remained silent, but you knew he was right. You wouldn’t be able to bear the possibility of blood staining your hands. While these people weren’t innocent by their actions, they were still mostly unaware people—people that came here for an opportunity at life innocently and now had to kill or be killed by a sick, carefully constructed system.
"Give me the knife." His hand reached towards the knife, your eyes wary and wide as you pulled the knife further backwards so he wouldn’t grab it. "I’ll take someone out as quickly as I can, and then I’ll find someone for you. I’ll protect you and the baby, I promise."
You snort, head tilting as you bit your lip in actual contempt. You wouldn’t give in, that was for sure. If anything, you were going to swap with Soobin. What you couldn’t place, though. The missing piece of the puzzle was why Sunghoon seemed to care now and just why at this moment.
He wanted your money.
You glanced at the knife on your side, white knuckles holding it so strongly you were sure if it had been anything else rather than the wooden foundation of the handle, it would have been snapped underneath the pressure force.
"I don’t need your help." You finally declare, pushing past him as you bumped into his shoulder with a little more force than necessary. He doesn’t push, he feels moreover disappointed than willing to chase after you. What was new?
You find the mop of blonde hair towering above the sea of black ones soon after, standing next to Yeonjun and Beomgyu in a circle. Their voices were hushed, almost strategic. You felt for once, out of place. Your red vest was a threatening contrast to their passive, blue ones.
"Y/N.." Yeonjun caught your eyes first, trailing down to the vest you wore and the weapon you wielded. You didn’t look out of place because you were wearing red, but you looked out of place because you were someone who couldn’t kill. Someone who tried to cling to her morals as much as possible.
Red didn’t suit you. It never did. This was just another reminder of why you rarely, or for matter of fact, almost never wore something red.
"Swap with me." You announced to the group— anyone willing to take it. You were placing your knife carefully on top of the box before extending it towards them, who exchanged a glance.
"I’ll do it. Give me the knife." Beomgyu’s voice was almost monotonous, not necessarily looking into your eyes. No, he was looking at Taehyun. Who was talking to Sunghoon. An alliance, perhaps. The alliance you didn’t give Sunghoon the pleasure of.
"No, I’ll do it." A sharp intake of breath left Soobin, already reaching for the box. With the look Beomgyu was giving Taehyun, this couldn’t be good at all. He was practically fuming at the thought of Taehyun, but Taehyun was red. Beomgyu would end up in a seriously stupid predicament if you gave him the knife. He was already handing you the box with his key and his vest, eyes downcast towards it as if it would bite.
"I’ll find all of you once I tag someone," tag, not kill. The word killing sounded too grim for this moment, he didn’t want to think about killing someone. Soobin ran a hand through his hair, distressed, but not displeased. Yeonjun was the most capable of doing this, considering he was a sergeant prior to this. But if there was anyone better to protect you, and to keep Beomgyu in line, it would be him. "You hide. Stay put, and I’ll come."
You exchanged your vests, both roles feeling more adaptable to but still frightening. Both ways would be a brutal way to die.
You were tense as you watched other interactions from other players, some people who voted to continue the games unfortunately ended up on the blue team. Desperation was reeking out of them far more than the foul smell everyone acquired. Those ‘weaker’ people from the red team, people who chose to go against the games, often refused to exchange gifts.
How does it feel to be below now, huh? The weird sense of satisfaction poked at you, but just as quickly as it had arrived, it left.
"The game will begin momentarily!" The robotic voice announced, you shifted from one foot to another, closer to Yeonjun and Beomgyu. The knife bore a heavy weight on Soobin’s hand, seriousness coating his expression and a sick feeling of understanding in his eyes as he twirled it in his hand. You hoped he’d be able to kill someone. As much as the thought made your stomach churn, it was the only way to have him come back to you.
"Blue team, please get ready to enter the arena."
Your eyes flickered up towards the door that was shaped like a lock this time, shoulders hunching as you moved alongside frightened and shaking hiders who would probably play sitting duck hiding behind doors that couldn’t be locked once opened.
Your key jingled and swished around with every step of your feet, the metal cold and with a key that felt like heavy weight. If you maybe kept moving, unlocking doors, then maybe you’d have a shot without running. You’d just have to go door by door.
The bright yellow corridor you all walked through in a cramped crowd. It was almost as bright as the yellow sun, thanks to the lights that sharply shone and hit your eyes from the low ceiling above your heads. Warmth came from the brush of bodies that soon wouldn’t be warm anymore.
Then, the doors opened. Your eyes shone like the stars plastered on the ceiling, it was huge. Huge like a maze. The arena looked like a neighborhood, almost like the neighborhood your foster parents raised you in whenever dusk fell and you were still out there running around trying to get a proper taste of childhood in its dying moments.
The walls, more than halfway up, were made out of bricks. The way they followed wasn’t even, sometimes they followed a downwards slope to mimic the visual of steps you often had to follow down your house. Light grey, light yellow.
The ground made a shuffling sound of rocks, it wasn’t grainy, dusty as the particles flew around the light grey rocky material with every step, coating your blood stained shoes. The ceiling shone with stars of every size, but also every possible design. They were a shade lighter than the yellow of the hallway you had just passer, a contrast to the various shades of blue that was the background, the one that also was painted in the walls where the bricks didn’t cover. Houses were painted in these expanses, mirroring how kids would play in neighborhoods late at night.
Parents would often warn their kids of the dangers of staying out so late and going to play, and while most kids paid to mind and turned out well, these same kids now were playing with others who represented the danger their parents warned against.
"Shit," you mumbled, hand reaching up to steady yourself against the light post that you faced yourself with a few steps away from the entrance. It was made out of real wood, nostalgic. It didn’t give you splinters like the old ones nearby your foster house, but it was similar enough. The orange lights were enough. Judging by the tangle of wires that spread through the immense hallways of the arena that seemed endless, there were more of these.
"The taggers will enter in two minutes."
"Listen everyone. Let’s not hide and wait like sitting ducks! Whoever finds the exit first will shout and let everyone know!" You recognized the player as player 100, unsure of his name. He was one of the players who were so sure they’d survive these games with the upper hand, you wondered how he felt now. Maybe he finally understood why all of you wanted to leave.
"Good idea! Let’s help each other and then—then we get out of here alive!"
It was a stupid idea. You, Yeonjun, and Beomgyu opted for not wasting time as you quickly vanished within one of the halls. Arguing was futile when no one would want to listen, desperate for an exit. But also because you didn’t know how grand this place was, no one in their right mind would be able to reach the ears of every player and even if they did, it was impossible to find an exit within two minutes and various locked doors. And if you did find an exit, it was more likely to be when the taggers came to find the hiders. No one would care for the survival of other players.
“Hide, hide, it’s time to play. Don’t let your hair give you away.”
You grimaced at the eerie voice of a child playing through the speakers, feet shuffling to move quicker to keep up with the guys who walked on either side of you. You were limping, uncomfortable as you placed one hand over your bump, the other gripped Yeonjun’s wrist.
“Hide, hide, it’s time to play. Don’t let your clothes give you away.”
Some of the areas were dimmer than the others, they really did think everything out.
"Come on, be careful." Yeonjun’s hand wrapped around yours, carefully leading you up the steps as a way too concentrated, may-haps paranoid, Beomgyu looked from side to side before climbing despite the fact there were no taggers yet.
Together, you went up the steps. You moved in silent save for the sound of your steps against the floor, speaking too much could be deadly. Your breath was shaky, you tried to stifle it to the best of your abilities.
The speakers let out a loud, high buzzing noise. You didn’t flinch, neither of you did. You just kept moving because you knew what this meant. The taggers were finally inside the arena, now it was about survival for thirty minutes unless you found a door.
Once on a higher level platform, at least you thought it was by logic, though it didn’t apply to these games most times.. Yeonjun took the lead. Leaning over every corner to examine and watch out for players as Beomgyu kept both of his hands on your left arm. A steady presence despite it all.
"Let’s go." He murmured, facing one of the dark green shaded doors. He quickly reached for his key, the one that was dangling from the metal wrapped around his neck loosely, swinging around in front of his chest. He fumbled with the lock, but it didn’t open. The key didn’t fit.
Fuck. Of course they’d make it more complicated, just having the key to any door was far too easy for the hiders and more of a pain towards the taggers.
Yeonjun’s head quickly turned from the triangle shaped lock, landing onto you and Beomgyu. "Can I take a look?" He gestured towards both of your keys, with your nod, he lifted your key up to examine the shape. A triangle. "This is the one—can I borrow it?"
You nodded, a quick movement of your head to spare your words to not give your hiding spot away as you slid off the metal necklace around your neck to give Yeonjun the key. It fit perfectly, as expected. Once twisted, the door made a sound signaling it had been opened, only for it to make a sharper sound as Yeonjun pushed it open.
He smiled, relief flooding through every feature as he stepped a bit more within the room. You let your hand press against the rough wall for balance, moving inside. The room was a sharp contrast to the offered starry night outside, a mix of pinks, pale blues, yellows and rainbows with shapes to decorate the walls. The next door in front of you didn’t open with neither keys.
"Beomgyu, let me see yours." His hands slid off the necklace quickly, not a single moment to waste hesitating as he shoved his key inside Yeonjun’s open palm.
"What is it?" You finally spoke up, curiosity tinging your voice at how Yeonjun seemed to manage this out so easily.
"Each door has a keyhole in a different shape, I think there are three— like the three guards we see. Circle, triangle, and square." His hands moved around as he explained, sometimes games that weren’t meant to be played as groups were made easier when you did. Hide and seek was often a person by themselves, but the old rules surely didn’t apply to this game. "We have all three. Mines is a circle, yours is a triangle, and Beomgyu’s is a square."
"We make a great team, this proves it." Yeonjun added, smiling. You couldn’t help but smile along—eyes sparkling. You three had a better shot of surviving this.
"We do, we really do. I have known since the pentathlon." Beomgyu agreed, fingers curling around Yeonjun’s hand to close his palm around the three keys he held. "In that case, you should be the one holding our keys, Yeonjun-ah. We’ll be able to more efficiently that way, you won’t have to keep stopping every now and then to reach for our keys."
"Is it really okay with all of you?"
"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead." Your eyes focused on the lock, satisfaction bursting within you as the door opened with Beomgyu’s key. For the first few steps you took forward together, it was silent. But the true nature of this game started to show with one sharp, feminine scream. You halted, head jerking upwards as you looked for the source of the scream, feeling uneasy.
"Player 154, eliminated!”
Soon, it wasn’t just one. Various screams of agony and pleas filled your ears. Beomgyu tugged along your arm, jaw setting tighter as he forced himself to move forward. "Come on, we have to go. Can’t stay unmoving."
You opened and closed doors more often than not, five minutes within the game—you noted as one of the clocks offered up in the walls counted down from thirty. Footsteps of running players would often come near, enough for all of you to press against the wall. Tagger or hider, you wouldn’t try your luck. Both sides included people who lost their minds in order to try to survive.
A gurgling scream came next as you three forced your bodies away from the wall, Yeonjun’s arm now interlinking with yours like Beomgyu’s arm already had been. "We have to run."
No words were exchanged, your breath heaved loudly despite your best efforts to remain silent. Feet thudding against the floor in unison, enough to make your heart move wrongly inside your chest with every beat. The sounds were louder in the silence, drumming against your ears.
"Player 089, eliminated!”
Yeonjun only looked back once, head peeking against the curve of a wall to see a tagger running in the background. Blood going cold, he quickly ushered you and Beomgyu to move forward, only to be met with a tagger right in front of you.
Your eyes locked with him. The world tilted in its axis as your lungs forgot to produce air for the moment you stood there longer than you should have stood. Prey and predator, you snapped out of that initial haze as Beomgyu’s moving feet hurled you and Yeonjun along the way.
"Come on!" He shouted. Your feet burned, you couldn’t breathe properly as you moved solely by being dragged. You got exhausted quickly, but despite how much your body screamed at you to stop running, begging for you to sit down and rest, you would just become an easy kill.
"Player 333, pass."
Of course Sunghoon would easily pass this game, he had no trouble doing things many would hesitate to do, especially when it came to himself. You learned it the hard way—he used people and then discarded them like filthy trash when they were no longer useful, once they no longer provided him with anything good.
Yeonjun’s hand was firm and ushering on your back, opting to stay behind the both of you for protection and better support to push you forward. You were met with a staircase, adrenaline pumping through your veins as the dim exit welcomed your vision, unlocked.
Beomgyu glanced at you once, letting go of your arm as he ran up the stairs with huffing breaths. Yeonjun grabbed your hand now instead, you followed, feet taking you as fast as you could up the steps. You reached for your stomach instead of the wall, making sure she was here instead of protecting yourself from any injuries.
The pain that burst through your body was enough to make a sob claw at your throat. It only didn’t come out because the force to which your ankle twisted at knocked any possible reaction out of you, your body thudding down the steps with the sound akin to one of a wounded animal. You groaned in pain, lying on your side unmoving. Your brain struggled to catch up, ears ringing as if someone had pressed your head underwater. You felt dizzy, breathing hurt, almost as if someone had sharply punched you in the ribs.
I’m going to die, was all you managed to think as your eyes filled with tears. The pain was too great, overwhelming every sense as you curled within yourself.
"Y/N!" Beomgyu shouted, following down the steps in a speed he wasn’t aware he was capable of. He dropped to his knees in front of you, the tagger soon reaching your view.
Yeonjun stepped in front of you and Beomgyu, hands out as if he was ready to take the tagger holding a knife in a hand to hand combat.
"Step aside." He hissed, he was just as scared and desperate as you were. "I just need to kill that damn bitch." His voice shook with emotion— uneven and wavering like the waves in the beach, whether it was sadness or rage that coated it, you weren’t sure.
Your head fell back, tears falling down your cheeks as you made a feeble attempt at trying to roll your ankle. A sharp pain, sharper than the already throbbing one, shot up through your body and you stopped trying. Out of instinct, you pushed yourself back against the wall, feeling more useless and helpless than you’d ever felt in your whole life.
"Hey, Y/N. Look at me. We’ll be fine, okay?" Beomgyu tried to comfort you despite the fear in his voice, his eyes mirroring yours in shades of panic and terror. One arm of his wrapped around you, giving support, as his other hand forced your head to look at him.
He looked different. Almost like an animal—an actual prey. His eyes, wide and startled, met yours in a pathetic attempt of reassurance. "Don’t look at him. Look at me. You’re fine."
You couldn’t breathe, only gulp fractions of air as you weakly nodded.
"Or give me the pretty boy." The tagger pointed his sharp blade forward, you knew how sharp that blade was. You had tested it yourself before exchanging your box with Soobin’s. It was a brutal way to die if your killer wasn’t merciful.
Yeonjun’s head slowly turned towards you and Beomgyu, both cornered against the wall like it would swallow you whole and keep you away from the threat.
You didn’t speak, a silent communication spoken through your eyes. As terrified as you were, you didn’t want Yeonjun to get hurt. Please, you mentally begged, lip wobbling. Don’t do this.
Yeonjun turned his head towards the tagger, something protective taking a hold of his body as he tucked all the three keys hanging from his neck inside of his tracksuit jacket. His fists raised, defiance but also confidence emanated from his body, something darker shifting inside his eyes. What was a knife compared to a gun? A knife was nothing when you managed guns and led people. Dealing with high pressure moments was part of being a sergeant.
With a groan and ferocity, the red vested man swung the knife towards Yeonjun with a sharp sound, as if the wind itself had slashed under the merciless blade. Yeonjun stumbled backwards, Yeonjun pressed him against the wall, body jerking back at another swing of the blade. Player 224’s mouth was twisted in an animalistic way, bloodthirsty as he raised the knife to strike.
Yeonjun’s hand clamped around his wrist, spinning around with him as if it were a dance before using his body to press him against the wall again. Groans left both sides, desperation and rage with every move. They moved quickly, too fast for your eyes to follow. Yeonjun turned his body around, never letting go of the hand that held the knife as his back pressed against the player’s front, twisting his arm as he growled in pain.
While they fought, Beomgyu’s arms wrapped around your torso. "We have to get out of here, give Yeonjun space." he ushered despite your shaking head, you were in no place to make decisions. He dragged you carefully to the bottom of the steps, your wrist limply dragging against the floor and scraping your skin as you bit your lip hard enough you could taste the metallic tang of blood coating your tastebuds.
Yeonjun’s elbow met the bones of the guy’s face three times, forcing his arm downwards so strongly it was sure to snap one of his tendons. He barely allowed himself a gulp of air, body moving on muscle memory. A pained groan left him as hands gripped his hair, eyes locked on the knife and the way it shifted to point upwards.
"Fuck!" The guy screamed hoarsely, with an opening, both of his hands slipped below two spots in his arm, swinging the guy up and above his head until he hit the ground. His knee hit the ground next to his head, forcing the knife out of his hands as Yeonjun quickly lifted his hand to strike.
"Wait— wait, no!" He pleaded, struggling as he weakly lifted up his hand to curl around Yeonjun’s wrist, attempting to not get stabbed by his own weapon. A sharp growl and strings of groans left Yeonjun’s throat, ricocheting off of the walls as both of his hands held the handle of the knife as he used every bit of his strength to push the knife down. He only stopped when he heard the squelch of blood, the knife tearing the skin of his chest until the player remained unmoving, mouth open in a silent scream and eyes glossy.
"Player 224, eliminated!”
You were trembling, sat on the third step as you tried your best to not pay attention to the pain. Beomgyu’s hands were shakily holding your own, he had stopped attempting to drag you up the steps once your expression became too filled with pain. Yeonjun breathed in relief, a hand over his chest as he tucked the stolen knife inside his pocket with the blade facing upwards in order to not cut himself.
"Let me take a look." He whispered, hands almost reverent and as careful as they could be rolled up the fabric of your pants. You whimpered at the contact, eyes locked with your wound.
It was ugly. There was no way you hadn’t busted your ankle. It already had taken a shade of unnatural purple, mingling with the angry red of irritation from your skin. "Can you walk?"
Your mind flickered back to the guy back in red light green light. His ankle was torn far worse than yours. Was this how he felt? Or was this just a fraction of what he was feeling moments before he died?
You couldn’t walk. At least not as effectively as before, you would just bring them down. But you nodded, knowing neither Beomgyu nor Yeonjun would leave you behind.
"Let’s go, then. Anyone who heard us will come this way." Quickly, you fell into a slower pace as Yeonjun wrapped his arms around yours. Beomgyu and him exchanged a glance, counting to three before lifting you to your feet. The pain never ceased, it just worsened as your body weight put pressure onto it. You forced all the sobs wrapping like wire around your throat down, gasping as you stepped up the stairs.
"Careful, don’t hurt yourself." Beomgyu ushered, being as quick as he could manage while looking behind constantly. Just in case.
Yeonjun opened another door as quickly as he could manage, Beomgyu shut it behind as you limped your way inside. It became an unspoken routine, not ideal but necessary to survive. Whatever worked, you followed.
"Player 374, pass."
Through the pain, as the familiar voice announced Soobin’s name, you couldn’t help but smile. You met Beomgyu’s eyes, who looked more relieved than anything. Soobin did it. It didn’t take too long— he would just have to come find all of you now. "He did it." You whispered, voice cracking at places but still unbelievably glad.
"He’ll come find us now." Beomgyu grinned, glancing at Yeonjun who had already rushed to open the door in front of the wall to which all of you pressed up against once no footsteps were audible anymore.
"Try to not get caught up on it, it’ll be hard to find us. This place is big." Yeonjun reached for you, already bringing both you and Beomgyu towards your door.
"He promised me." You argued quickly, fierce. Despite all the pain you felt, despite the dread and sick fear that made you feel like not moving, you still trusted Soobin more than anything. Anyone could see that.
"Player 198, eliminated!"
Trust as big as this was hard to come across in a game where people had to kill one another to survive.
Without further arguing, Yeonjun pursed his lips and nodded. You moved slowly, body barely able to push forward had it not been for the support of other two solid ones. Your ruined ankle dragged behind you, a heavy weight you couldn’t control.
A sickening scream reached nearby, all of you stopped. Yeonjun was already searching for the nearest door, rushing to open it for a safe place to stay for a little while.
"Hang in there, we’re almost there." Beomgyu reassured, but neither of you knew how far away the exit was or how much time there really was left.
"This way." Yeonjun was back at your side as the door clinked open. The room inside was themed like the ocean, walls painted in lighter shades of mixing blues. Jellyfishes were plastered against the wall out of paper, fishes too. It was beautiful, safe enough to stay. No other doors connected to this room, meaning the only exit you had to guard as the one you came through.
You limped your way inside the room, hitting the floor as you sat down against the wall, unable to hold back your pained whimpers by now.
"Let me look." He mumbled, sliding off your shoe. So little time had passed, and yet your ankle worsened. From the purple and red mingling tones, it started to swell up. It wasn’t something that would heal quickly.
"Is it sprained?" Beomgyu asked breathlessly, eyes locked onto the wound.
"Her ankle might be fractured, she shouldn’t walk on it." Yeonjun sighed, shaking his head. Despite his initial reluctance, he was glad he brought the knife from the other player with him. "For now, let’s just hide in here and see how things go."
You shook your head, forcing it away from the wall where it had tipped against. Sweat coated your face, hair clinging to your forehead. "Don’t do that just for me, I’ll stay here alone. I’m just going to hold all of you back, go and find the exit and leave."
Beomgyu shook his head, gripping your arm just a bit tighter. He refused to let anyone else die. "We promised Soobin we’d take care of you. I’m not leaving—" he paused, looking at Yeonjun. In a beat of silence, he was making a choice on what to say, even if he already knew the answer. "You should go, Yeonjun. If anyone is more capable of winning this or finding an exit, it’s you."
Yeonjun didn’t reply, not at first. Instead, his head turned towards the four corners of the room. The time plastered against one of the walls marked fifteen minutes and thirty seconds. You were already almost halfway through.
Another wave of pain hit your body. But this time not from your ankle. You felt like you were hyperventilating, breathing too fast as your shoulders hunched. It was a greater pain than you had ever experienced your whole entire life, burning your nerves and making your head dizzy. You stared past your parted legs, half expecting it wasn’t what you knew it was.
"Y/N? Y/N, what’s going on?" Beomgyu tapped your cheek, his question answered by the liquid leaking through your pants and soaking the ground beneath you. His eyes went wide, the world freezing in that single moment.
"Her water broke." Yeonjun’s voice cracked, hands shaky as they hovered above you— your legs, thighs, but never quite touching.
"What do we do?" Beomgyu hissed, your face was already contorting in pain. It was a pain far more cruel than the destiny of being subjected to pain by the knife of a red vested player. The tears came back, hot and unwavering down your cheeks.
"We need her on her back, come on. Help me out." Yeonjun rasped out, arms underneath your torso as Beomgyu gripped the underside of your thighs, lying your upper body down against the cold floor. Your knees were bent, pain from your ankle and pain from your body tearing open to bring life mingling together in a recipe for pure agony.
Beomgyu unzipped his tracksuit jacket, hastily pulling it off as he settled it above your legs. Your pants and underwear came off next, the pain far too great for you to even complain or feel shy about it. One of your hands rested above the swell of your stomach, a cry sharp and pained leaving you as you bit down on the sleeves of your own jacket.
"In and out, come on, breathe." Beomgyu was shaking all over, you could tell he had only the basic idea of what giving birth was like. He was almost as terrified as you were in pain. "Try to stay quiet, they’ll end up finding us."
You pushed to the best of your abilities, back arching off of the floor as your head thudded back against it. You didn’t even register the dull throb, it was minor against the throbbing pain of your body prying open. "Just a little more, come on, push."
You screamed against the fabric, feeling how your saliva soaked through it. Everything hurt, your hands scrambling to grip something—anything. But you couldn’t find anything. You wished Soobin was here.
You wished he found you right now. That he would be here to hold your hand and tell you it would be okay with the same tenderness in his eyes he held whenever he looked at you.
You were lightheaded, mind calling out for him, hoping that he would find you somehow in this exact moment across the expanse of the arena.
"Yeonjun-ah," Beomgyu called out shakily, quickly meeting Yeonjun’s eyes who had been peering outside through a slant of the slightly open door, keeping guard. "Come hold Y/N’s hand."
Your grip was almost deadly, suffocating Yeonjun’s hand as it curled around yours. You couldn’t process anything else, you just wanted to let out the pain somewhere. Your skull thudded against the floor again, body tensing and locking up.
"Hey, come on, you can do this." Yeonjun whispered, placing his other hand beneath the back of your head in order to stop you from hurting yourself further.
"Ready? Y/N, I need you to push again. You’re so close." Beomgyu reassured, hands beneath the draped fabric of his jacket above your thighs. You squeezed your eyes shut, another cry tearing through you while being muffled by the sleeve of the jacket. Your free hand reached to press against the wall next to you, unsure if your body would even be able to handle another second of this agony. You felt like you were about to pass out from the pain.
"Oh, oh shit—I can see the head." Beomgyu’s own head raised from between your thighs, a desperate smile on his face before he ducked down again. "One more push, come on."
Every time he said one more push, you felt as if it stretched into eternity. But you fought for your baby so hard already, what was one more push?
Yeonjun’s eyes darted from your face towards the clock, nearly down to ten minutes now. The game was almost over, you just hoped fate would be merciful enough to conceal all of you inside the room.
One final scream ripped through you, then a cry. Soft, high pitched. You were shaking, body hurting everywhere. Beomgyu gasped, not realizing he had been crying along with you until they fell against the bloodied skin of your baby. It cried in his arms, a shudder of relief leaving you as Yeonjun let out a laugh of disbelief—or relief, maybe both.
Your eyes finally opened, looking at your baby girl for the first time. All of the pain seemed worth it now that you looked at her. So small, so perfect. And she was all yours. She was fragile, all soft skin and pliant in Beomgyu’s arms. "Yeonjun-ah, take her, hand me the blade."
"Oh my god." Yeonjun whispered in disbelief, carefully reaching for your daughter with eyes filled with curiosity and care. Beomgyu’s hand reached for the blade peeking from Yeonjun’s pocket, grabbing the umbilical cord and bending it in an arch before cutting it. Separating your baby from the home it once made inside your body.
"Y/N." Yeonjun looked at you, meeting your tired face with a smile. Your legs finally closed, shaky as Beomgyu let the knife clatter against the ground to take the baby from Yeonjun’s arm, using his jacket to now carefully wrap your daughter in it. Yeonjun helped you sit up, warm hands letting you lean against the wall.
A sob clawed out of your throat, head falling forward as your arms held your daughter for the first time. One of you was crying out of relief, one was crying because she just arrived into the world. She was beautiful—you thought, a gentle finger tracing the skin of her cheek.
"Eun-seo.." you murmured, chest trembling with emotion.
It was short lived. Fate had a brutal way of reminding you where you were, that you couldn’t have nice things.
The door pushed open, a player in a red vest and a crazed look into his eyes that asked—no, demanded for blood appeared. A manic smile spread as he looked at you holding your daughter with a predatory grin. Instinctively, you held Eun-seo just a bit tighter.
It was a moment of silence. The player’s eyes darted to Yeonjun’s hand gripping the blade he stole from the guy he killed. A split second later, he was already lunging with a shout. Yeonjun pushed himself to his feet, his own knife swishing and clanging with the other’s in the air. Eun-seo’s cries alongside the grim reality she had to witness while barely being in the world for five minutes filled the air.
Yeonjun held the player back, grunting as the knife swished in front of his face. He was forced outside of the room, the force of him pushing back futile as the guy shoved him against the rocky wall outside. Both bodies hit the ground in separate ways, the loud clang of Yeonjun hitting the trash can spreading through the facility. He wasted no time, already propping himself on his elbows and pushing back as the guy lunged towards him with a knife.
He was different from the other one. There were no ceremonies.
The guy grabbed his pantleg, holding him in place. He was surprisingly strong, landing the blade inside his leg. A cry of pain left Yeonjun, who was already trying to retract his leg. Warm blood sprayed out of his wound onto the face of the other player, who already stood to swing at his neck. Yeonjun grabbed his arm that held the knife, raising his own to stab his waist before hauling the guy above and over him to the ground. Despite his wounded leg, he swung and tried to hit him to the best of his abilities.
"FUCK!" Yeonjun shouted as he was pushed against a door, unluckily for him, open. It burst behind his back, the guy already onto him swinging similar to how he had been. He ducked down, arms wrapping around his waist and hurling the guy to the ground as he hit it along him. Yeonjun stood up quicker, pressing himself against a wall.
The guy was no doubt crazy and thirsty for survival. The pointy tip of his knife forced its way towards Yeonjun’s head. Yeonjun held both of his arms, mustering up the strength and grip in the guy’s hand to throw him chest first against the wall, locking his arm between his own as he reached for the knife player 073 gripped on for dear life.
Once it eased out of his grip, Yeonjun’s arm met the guy’s neck in a headlock. Silencing his cries with the lack of air his grip provided. He pressed the knife once into his chest, the loud squelch sealing his fate. Pulling it back, he plunged it into his body three more times before letting go.
He was panting, gulping for air as his eyes snapped towards the open door. Another red vested player, wide eyed and terrified by the battle, watched as Yeonjun’s blood soaked hand holding the knife cleaned the corner of his mouth, streaking his face with blood. Despite Yeonjun’s blue vest, he scurried off without a second thought.
He hadn’t even noticed the door behind him, maybe he had, just had not registered it. Not the metal lock requiring all three keys, the exit.
"Player 073, eliminated!”
Good, Yeonjun thought as his shoulders sagged, standing still to catch his breath. Run off like a little bitch.
He grimaced, eyeing his stabbed leg. He would have to keep moving. Go back to you and Beomgyu. In limps, he moved forward. But once his brain drained from adrenaline, it finally dawned onto him. His head snapped backwards towards the metal lock, above the door, it clearly said exit.
As quickly as he could limp, Yeonjun’s shaky hands reached for all three keys. He slid them into each respective keyhole, twisting them with loud clangs before opening the door. He pushed it open.
A soft, almost golden light in the room greeted him. Polished, safe. His lips quirked up in a smile, feet nearly crossing the threshold as a congratulatory song played above. But he halted.
You. Your pained face and sprained ankle. Beomgyu’s trusting smile as he handed him the baby.
He walked back, a trail of blood left behind as he used all of his strength. You’d all survive. Be safe. Soobin had already killed someone, which meant you’d meet him as soon as you were led back into the room.
He walked back, a trail of blood left behind as he used all of his strength. You’d all survive. Be safe. Soobin had already killed someone, which meant you’d meet him as soon as you were led back into the room. He pushed the door open, meeting Beomgyu’s startled eyes and your hoping gaze. It filled him with warmth, the way you two counted on him.
"Yeonjun-ah!" Beomgyu greeted in a smile, glad to see him alive.
"I found the exit." Yeonjun’s voice shook, hopeful and proud. "We can get out of here together." He heaved, gripping the door handle for balance. "Come on, quickl—"
Hope was always the easiest thing to be destroyed. You could easily pick it up like a fragile thing, toss it beneath your feet, and crush it without questioning how it would make others feel. You always felt like that as a kid, every time a couple walked into the orphanage year after year, they always had a pleased glance as they examined the kids like meat in the market.
At first, you hoped you would be taken in soon. That you would find loving parents.
"Don’t worry, you’ll be adopted soon. Just have patience, Y/N." One of the mothers in the orphanage comforted your broken six year old heart, hand patting the top of your head as you clung to her skirt and wept. You felt lonely.
But you weren’t adopted that year. And not the year after, nor the other.
They’d always say the same thing year after year. You stopped believing it at some point, when they took the closest person you had to a friend, you stopped feeling hopeful and accepted you weren’t good enough to be wanted as a daughter.
But now, this was different.
Your expression shifted from relief to horror at the squelch of blood. Yeonjun’s expression shifted from happy, to pained. He didn’t scream, it wasn’t a dramatic death. It was just the drop of a smile, the clang of his knife against the ground as the swishing knife against his back left and plunged again. He opened his mouth, not to scream, but to spit out blood.
His eyes filled with tears in his last moments. Heavy but also fulfilled as they met your own terrified gaze and Beomgyu’s expression struck with a mix of disbelief and pained denial.
Even in his last moments, he smiled. It’s okay. He tried to convey, not trying to seem too much at pain despite how his mind fogged up, how he couldn’t hold his body upwards anymore. His eyes rolled back with a pitiful strangled noise, and he fell to the ground.
"Yeonjun.." you rasped out, struggling to grapple and compare his lifeless eyes to the ones that were gleaming just moments ago. Your breath stuttered as you gazed at the player who killed him. Heart stopping, pressing Eun-seo closer to your chest.
Sunghoon.
Of course he would be the one to ruin something good for you. He had already passed the game, but his bloodthirsty and money seeking aided mind wouldn’t be satisfied with killing just one player. More players dead from the blue team meant more money, less players to kill meant people from the red team would die.
Sunghoon panted, not bothering to look further into the room as he examined Yeonjun’s dead body. But finally, he saw you.
You and Beomgyu looked like two cornered animals, Beomgyu was holding one of your arms tightly, coiled like a spring before he stood up and raised his fists. He wasn’t the best fighter, not like Yeonjun was. But he refused to let you die, not when you just met your daughter.
Sunghoon wasn’t looking at Beomgyu. His world blurred to the sides and focused on you. Your unbelieving expression, full of fear and tears. Your— his baby crying now more quietly in your arms. He felt his knees weaken for once, like jelly. Eun-seo cried louder in your arms, likely due to the commotion.
His knife lowered. Eyes filling with tears as if the moment was tender. It would be if you weren’t terrified. Not of his knife, but of him.
"Park Sunghoon." A voice from behind called, the voice was undoubtedly Taehyun’s voice. It was calculated, almost annoyed and stressed as the sounds of footsteps drew closer. So they did end up partnering up after all.
Beomgyu’s face hardened, especially at the sound of Taehyun’s voice. He shuffled forward a bit more, covering your frame with his own.
"Yeah?" He swallowed hard, not meeting Taehyun’s face who had already perked up from a dead body he had just killed.
"What’s going on? Are there any more players left in there?"
"No, there aren’t." Sunghoon finally concluded, a bit quicker than necessary as he shut the door. "Let’s go the other way."
Beomgyu broke a little further when he finally let his arms sag on either sides of his body, a sob wrecking his body as he kneeled carefully down next to Yeonjun. "Hyung.. no, please. Not you too." He stuttered out, hands caressing his hair in one last comforting motion.
You wanted to scream. Cry, break something, but all you managed were sobs. You couldn’t even move properly towards Yeonjun’s lying limp body, feeling helpless had always been something you hated.
This game was good at throwing things you hated straight at you.
Beomgyu’s body doubled over, pressing his trembling lips to Yeonjun’s sweat coated forehead as his hands shut his eyes. Rest in peace. He looked peaceful, it was the part that ached and made your skin burn the most. A small smile still somehow held itself up, looking like he was dreaming rather than dying in a pool of his own blood.
"Player 454, eliminated!”
It took Beomgyu a few seconds to finally move, reaching underneath the tangled mess of Yeonjun’s sweat and blood wetted hair to pull out all three keys. He clung to them like a lifeline to his shaking hands, turning towards you.
"Yeonjun-ah said he found the exit, then I’m sure it’s somewhere nearby." His throat bobbed, standing up.
"Can’t we just stay here until it’s over?" You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.
"Too dangerous. Someone will hear your baby and come to kill us."
As quickly and gently as he could, Beomgyu helped you slide on your tracksuit pants and underwear. "Here, give me her." Beomgyu extended his arms, you complied, letting Eun-seo be taken by the safety of Beomgyu’s arms. You threw one arm over his shoulder, bringing yourself up and then using the wall as a support.
"Player 113, eliminated!"
At every mention of a dead player, your body tensed further. Limping in pain, you held back all of your pained groans despite all you wanting to do was pass out. Maybe sleep, anything. But you stayed put, following Beomgyu who had his eyes set on the trail of blood Yeonjun’s stabbed leg had left behind towards the exit.
Every step felt wrong, filled with anxiety and the sheer chance of a red team player rounding the corner and finding you. Thankfully, the exit wasn’t too far. The green door peered open into a room where the three keyholes waited like a prize.
The timer was already down to three minutes, but you knew better than to wait here when fate could bend and twist in another cruel manner.
Once in the room, you examined the keyholes. Three shapes. They really didn’t mean to make it that easy for the hiders.
"Hold her for a second." Beomgyu handed Eun-seo over, reaching into his pockets to fish out the three keys. You watched with hopefulness as the keys fit perfectly, twisting and unlocking. One step closer to freedom.
With every clank that meant the door unlocked, you glanced towards the open green door. Even if leaving was guaranteed, someone stumbling upon you wasn’t.
The last key slid into its keyhole one last time.
But you weren’t alone.
The figure of a girl who looked more desperate than ever appeared. The patch— player 036. Wonhee. She didn’t look like the sweet, smiling girl who comforted you in the bathroom. When she looked at you and Beomgyu, she barely acknowledged the baby. Instead, she looked relieved.
That’s when you realized. Throughout the entire game, you hadn’t heard her number being called out as a pass.
"Beomgyu.." you whispered shakily, both of you now looking at Wonhee. All of you wanted to live, but one of you would have to die for that to happen. There was no way out of this.
There was no escaping the primal instinct that screamed for survival.
"Unnie.." she uttered, eyes dazed with fear and the urge to kill. She stepped into the room, every step that echoed in your ears made you press closer to Beomgyu.
"No. Stay back." Beomgyu took a step forward before you could grab his arm, standing defensively in front of you.
"Wonhee. You don’t have to do this." You pleaded, voice cracking.
"I couldn’t do it, unnie." She sobbed, pressing the knife against her forehead. Not the tip, just the flat side of the blade. Like she felt remorse. "I couldn’t kill anyone."
Deep down, you knew she didn’t. She wanted to go home as much as you did.
"I’m going to die, are you going to let me die?!" She shouted, breaking under the pressure of the timer and the game. "Unnie, you wanted to get out of here. I want to go home too, I don’t want to die."
She took another step forward, eyes flickering over to Beomgyu. "I couldn’t kill anyone." She spoke, voice barely above a whisper.
"Don’t you fucking dare." Beomgyu spat, unmoving.
"One minute left!"
She lunged, knife raised clumsily towards Beomgyu’s head. He dodged easily, body swaying to the side as his hands gripped the strands of her long hair, yanking her to the floor. A grunt left her lips, choking in her own desperation and tears. She didn’t let go of her knife.
"Don’t do this to yourself." Beomgyu warned, not having it. Pity wasn’t something you could offer, even if it made you a killer. Not here.
But she was losing her mind. Wonhee stood up one last time, swinging the knife aimlessly as Beomgyu staggered back towards the exit. You cried because you didn’t want either of them to die, but you were powerless to stop death. Grief dug a sharper blade into your heart, tearing it open and carving itself there like a searing, burning mark.
She was just a terrified girl. She wasn’t meaning to do harm, all Wonhee wanted was to go home. Her once sparkly, concerned self when she held your crying frame in the bathroom died before she even did. This game was structured to bring out the worst in you if you didn’t fight. She clearly didn’t.
You wished it was you. Even if you didn’t want to die, the fact that so many people died with you being involved in it or because of you made self-hatred bite you in the ankle like a venomous snake.
Beomgyu quickly pushed himself off of the wall as her blade hit it, breaking the sharp metal from its handle. She didn’t care. Wonhee grabbed the blade sharply, a cry tearing from her lips as the material sliced her palms. She still staggered forward, tossing herself with all her might on top of Beomgyu.
Just as she was about to strike Beomgyu straight in the stomach, a figure hauled her backwards. Wonhee let out a shriek, the sickening squelch of flesh prying open reaching your ears loudly despite the lack of vision you had.
"Fuck! Fuck, let me go!" She screamed, squirming in the hold of the man who held her.
Taehyun.
Taehyun’s eyes didn’t hold hesitation, they held intention. His eyes met Beomgyu’s shocked ones, who hadn’t moved, just witnessed the scene. "What are you doing? Go! Fucking move and get out of here!"
Wonhee twisted and turned, finally managing to strike the blade through Taehyun’s shoes. A shout of pain left him, his hands weakening in her hair. One of her hands covered the stab wound inflicted on her shoulder, letting it droop lower than her other one than her unharmed one. Fifteen seconds.
When she lunged against Taehyun, they disappeared into a corner. What came next was blood, screams and shouts both feminine and masculine.
Beomgyu didn’t waste any more time. Time was lacking, but it didn’t guarantee safety. He rushed inside the room, finding you already sliding the last key into the keyhole, rushing towards you to twist the knob as soon as the last lock opened.
"Player 036, eliminated!”
"Player 001, eliminated!”
Beomgyu had wanted Taehyun dead at first. But the fact he saved his life and your life made his opinions switch. Maybe he would never understand why Taehyun voted to continue, that secret would be taken to the black coffin wrapped in a pink ribbon. But it settled like another heavy weight inside his chest.
The group you all formed started with six people. Now, you are down to three.
The timer beeped to zero before you could manage to twist the knob, announcing the end of the game.
"The game has ended!"
Neither you nor Beomgyu looked for the bodies. Couldn’t. You stood there looking at each other, tears streaming down silently as he wrapped you in a hug. You cried not only because of relief or survival, but because you grieved together over the people you two grew to care about despite knowing you shouldn’t.
THE RESTLESS sound of anxious footsteps clanged above the metal steps next to the bunks. Choi Soobin couldn’t help but look towards the door that led inside the main lobby, wondering where you were. Why was it taking so long? He hadn’t heard your number called in the speakers, neither did Beomgyu’s—
His mind flashed towards the earlier moments. Chasing down blue vested players inside the facility hadn’t been easy. He was standing along, head held high as he stepped through the yellow corridor and inside the almost neighborhood-like arena. It expanded in stretched corridors, endless doors, and escape routes.
He took one of the exits where no other taggers went.
Even if all of these hallways met in a single middle room, the chances of finding a player and not having to fight for them would be lower. He didn’t rush, surely, the hiders were on the edge. Ears open more than usual to any wound that would mean a tagger is coming. Within every edge, he turned and perked around.
He could also come across as a hider, if that would do. Soobin observed that most players acted by despair, not by logic. They didn’t think, they just searched for the quickest exit.
Six within the game, and Soobin still somehow hadn’t found anyone. He heard the occasional shuffling, the screams that pierced through his eardrums, but against his luck, no players. Occasionally, he walked past other taggers who had either been searching for players to kill, or were just walking around after completing their task.
He hadn’t meant to stumble with them.
The door in front of him as his hand hovered above the knob opened too suddenly, a player with a blue vest— a middle aged woman, stumbled back against his chest with blood squirting from her neck. She was gurgling, alive, but in agony. Whoever was playing with her planned to let her suffer, the stab wasn’t in a lethal spot.
His heart skipped a beat. If she wasn’t dead, then he could kill her and take the credits. Wrong as it was, survival didn’t care about rules.
His knife that had been idly swinging next to his thigh was gripped firmer, raised to her knife as one of his arms wrapped around her neck to prevent her from moving.
"P-please—" she croaked out, color draining from her face. It wasn’t quite clear if she was begging for mercy or for Soobin to put her out of her misery.
"That’s my kill, let go of her." Player 333 snarled, surging through the door with blood splattered all over his face in front of him.
He had already passed. He was just trying to eliminate competition. Soobin was sure that just moments ago, his number had been called. Their eyes locked, but Sunghoon couldn’t attack Soobin. It was forbidden.
Screw basic common sense.
Soobin’s knife was quick, swishing through the air in a clean strike as he twisted it inside the skull of the woman. She stopped struggling, her wounds spurting blood in his already dirtied uniform as she fell to the ground. "You already passed, don’t get too greedy."
"Player 374, pass."
"I know you." The player snorted, stepping closer as his jaw slid horizontally. His knife was raised up in the air, not meaning to be harmful. Just an object to taunt. "Weren’t you the motherfucker who started the voting thing?" He paused, looking at Soobin up and down. "The one walking around with that lady. She was walking kind of funny, y’know? Did you find time to fool around with her?"
His words weren’t so teasing. They were laced with bitterness and jealousy. Jealousy over someone who he couldn’t stake the claim over.
"Leave her out of your fucking mouth." Soobin warned, stepping forward. He wasn’t afraid of that knife, if the guy killed him, he’d die as well.
"Why? What are you going to do, kill me?" Sunghoon tutted, pressing the tip of the knife against Soobin’s throat. Neither of them moved, a silent challenge in the air. "You’re pathetic. I wonder why she chose you out of every man she could’ve picked."
It wasn’t hard to connect the dots. The discomfort plastered beneath all of that cocky confidence, there was no doubt this was the baby’s—no, Eun-seo’s biological father.
"Unlike you, I can compete and show what love is instead of going ahead and trying to make shitty attempts that you call amends." His knife raised, pressing against the side of Sunghoon’s throat. There was no aggressiveness or violence, but the threat was there. If you stab me, I stab you. If I die, you also die.
"Yah, Park Sunghoon." A bored voice filtered through the tense atmosphere, Taehyun walked a few moments after. He stood still as he saw the situation—they were literally at each other’s throat. "Are you stupid? You’re going to get yourself killed. He’s not worth our time."
Snickering and pushing his tongue against the corner of his mouth, Sunghoon hesitatingly brought his knife down, a vein popping in his forehead out of annoyance. He didn’t like being interrupted, least of all being wrong. "You’re lucky you swapped with her. You’d be the first fucker I’d come after and have the satisfaction to kill."
Soobin didn’t waver. He stood there, refusing to break eye contact or do so much as blink. His hand, which held the handle of the knife, didn’t move. At least not until Sunghoon stepped back.
"Stop it, you’re being stupid." Taehyun scolded, exchanging glances with Soobin one last time before he turned the opposite way, leaving him behind with Sunghoon trailing right after him.
Obviously, not without shooting him the middle finger.
But throughout the entirety of the game, with each scream and rip of flesh, he hadn’t managed to catch a single flash of you or the others. Yeonjun had died, that much he was aware of. It made his gut twist, but he forced himself to press forward, to look for you.
The only reassurance he had of you being alive was the fact your number hadn’t been called in the speakers.
The clang of the door opening ahead of him scattered his thoughts, players from the blue team walking in with a new layer of trauma clinging to every fiber of their beings. Some were shaken up, some were hollow. Some are still terrified.
A cry of a baby came next.
Soobin froze, a faltering step pressing forward as you surged through the door with Beomgyu. Beomgyu looked exhausted, you looked more worn down than ever. His arm was wrapped around your torso, and in your arms, a little bundle who wouldn’t stop crying.
His whole world stopped.
Your eyes met his next, so, so painfully tired but so happy to finally see him. Soobin took one step forward, then another, and another until he was running towards your limping form held up by Beomgyu, who wasn’t doing any better.
"Y/N!" He shouted, hands trembling so hard they were unsure where to land. They opted to hold your face as Beomgyu finally let go of you, already moving towards the carefully arranged bunks you all had been sleeping in these past few days. "Are you okay? Why are you limping?"
His questions came out in a rapid speech, unsure what to ask first or if he should apologize for not being able to find you.
His breath shook, eyes wide with flooding relief. And then he caught the baby’s face—she was so beautiful. She looked like you, some of the traces undoubtedly belonged to Sunghoon, but she was still beautiful. "Oh my god."
A smile broke across your face despite the exhaustion, nodding with teary eyes in a way that broke his heart and made it ache at the same time. "She’s so tiny.." he trailed off, all words he had planned to say when she arrived dying in his throat. His finger caressed her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin.
"Do you want to hold her?" You asked, already extending Eun-seo towards Soobin.
He shook his head, Soobin had already noticed the way you were walking funny, the way your skin was unnaturally purple as it peeked through the space between your shoes and pants. "Let’s sit first, come on. I’ll help you."
Killing someone had never been in Soobin’s plans, but if it meant you were safe, that your daughter was safe, then it didn’t matter much.
YOU SAT WITH YOUR LEGS stretched in front of you, finally resting after this game took so much effort for you to complete. Beomgyu was sitting by the edge of the bed, knees tucked into his chest as he watched Soobin hold your daughter. She was crying anymore, just cooing in Soobin’s arms.
He looked at her with something akin to awe, all tension draining from his body. "Hi, Eun-seo." He cooed, he was the happiest he’d ever looked since arriving inside the games. "It’s daddy."
Your heart felt fuzzy, unable to keep your eyes off of them. Something about Soobin saying ‘it’s daddy’ felt right. Like it was meant to happen, meant to have always been there. Maybe in another universe, far away from this one, Eun-seo was actually his. In a universe where you would be able to pursue your dreams and live with no financial worries or stress of death.
Eun-seo had long ago stopped crying since she settled into Soobin’s arms, it was almost instinctual the way she quieted down with a feeling of belonging.
"I promise I’ll get you and your mommy out of here." He whispered, not audible to your ears. Her hand was warm, tiny and trusting as it wrapped around his index finger. It was a tender moment. He couldn’t disappoint her.
Even if she couldn’t quite place how heavy a promise deep as this was. His lips landed on top of her head, a pinky promise kiss. She was far too small to even tie her pinky around his.
It was a beautiful sight. It put your heart at ease to see how well Soobin handled Eun-seo with so much tenderness. If he had already been soft with you, this was just another part of him bared whole. Blossoming softly and quietly to welcome something so precious, something you offered. Almost like the flowers blossoming quietly at the attention of the sun during spring. Eun-seo’s fragility brought all of it out.
She started crying soon after, sharp. Discomfort painting her figures— you were still new to this, hell, you didn’t know anything about babies before getting pregnant. And it wasn’t like this place would offer guidance. Still, your instincts drove you to extend your arms, a quiet plea.
"I think she’s hungry." Soobin searched your face for some sort of reassurance— both you completely clueless, but still figuring it out.
"I don’t know if she is." You took Eun-seo into your arms, this would be your reality for the next few months— figuring out everything about her. "But I’ll try."
You reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it upwards above one of your breasts, easing your bra out of you as carefully as you could to not make Eun-seo more fussy than she already was.
The first time she latched onto your nipple, cries soothing down to gulping noises as you held her upwards in a cradle, you forgot to breathe. This. No, she was the reason why you pushed through so much. The reason why you didn’t give up even when it seemed impossible. You met your reason to move forward, and now it was her turn to rely on you.
THE SOUND OF LAUGHTER was rich, mingling with the crinkle of glasses that tapped together in joyous conversations that heaved with excitement. It hadn’t been too long since the VIPs had arrived, those who arrived earlier got to be in the last game as guards, taking out players for a more vivid experience of what it is to kill rather than to just sit back and relax. The table rounded in a pentagon to accommodate each and every one of the masked people, bored and rotten billionaires who had nothing else to bet on that found people dying funny.
If people broken down by poverty were ugly, the rich were broken down by greed.
Above the room, the ceiling was flat atop. A wooden, rich perfect design that rose higher into a pentagon shape above the dinner table to shine a soft, white lighting into the dishes being provided.
"You know, dear host. I’ve always enjoyed watching it from the outside." A rich voice spoke to break the silence, each VIP sizing each other up in silence as if to say ‘I’m better.’ But all of them were rotting from the inside out equally. "But it was a pleasurable experience to put on the uniforms and take part in the games. Nothing can compare to it."
The glass filled with expensive wine that was enough to make most people’s nose contort at the smell was lifted to his lips, the liquid sloshing at the movements. "It brings me back to when I was back in Africa hunting in the wilderness. They looked almost like animals."
"I’ve done plenty of hunting before, but this was on another level. You truly exceeded our expectations this year, dear hosts. The players too, they count me very intrigued." A sultry voice chided in, adding onto the very pleased expressions of the invited ones.
"Ugh, was I the only one who didn’t go?" A guy groaned in complaint, head tossing backwards before flinging back into place. Always careful to not slide off his bull mask. His hand smacked against the expensive fabric of his beige suit, annoyance in his movements. "My fucking driver was late, and I paid that motherfucker so much money to make sure that wouldn’t happen, too."
"Are you sure your driver was the problem? Or were you just too drunk to wake up on time?" A rich laughter left her lips, amusement flickering in the features that her mask didn’t show.
"You wanna know something? When you actually shut up, you can make yourself look kind of attractive." The other enunciated, his eye roll practically audible through his tone.
"Back to our dear host," Someone else chided in, breaking apart the banter. "The work you’ve done here is top notch. Not only letting us watch the games, but also letting us participate."
"I’m always bettering the experience within the games to please my guests to the best of my abilities."
"And you’ve done an amazing job." The woman smiled, raising her glass towards the host’s direction. "This is the most fun I’ve had in years, and I’ve seen these games since I was in my twenties."
"Truly, the players intrigue me as well. I mean, player number one getting eliminated because he wanted to save that one pregnant lady with her baby was a spectacle." The bull masked guest kissed the roof of his tongue, savoring the wine that pleased his tastebuds. "I mean, he was kind of stupid, too. Who would sacrifice their lives in order to save someone they’ve just met?"
"Ah, yes. Speaking of which, did you notice the other two contestants?.. a tall one, blonde. He’s kind of cute, I don’t blame 434. And then there’s the other one, but he has black hair. They were having an argument over her for a few minutes within the game." The snake masked woman noted, crossing her legs. "I wonder who the baby daddy is."
"Want to bet?" Another woman spoke for the first time, a tiger mask concealing her features and only giving sight to the bold, red lip gloss she wore. "I’ll say it’s the black haired one, just because he’s cuter. But that’s my opinion."
"I was going to place my bet on him! But.. well, she’s closer to the tall hottie. I’ll say it’s him."
"Dear host, you don’t happen to know who the father is, do you? Or do you not know everything as you claim you do?" The bull masked man jumped in, clearly interested.
"I do know."
"Then, you tell us when the games end. Hah.. I just hope that mother makes it. She’s so pitiful it almost makes me actually feel bad for her."
"CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL OF YOU FOR MAKING IT THROUGH THE FOURTH GAME."
The mechanical doors opened to reveal the guards you no longer felt afraid of, you just resented them now. How they acted superior, they were emotionless and moved like they were machines, talked and followed orders like lapdogs of a superior leader.
"Here are the results of the fourth game." A beep from the controller illuminated the barely populated room. Bunks that once stood tall, almost near the ceiling, were now brought down. There were maybe around twenty five players, the last game had been a bloodbath where both separated parties were eliminated mercilessly. Some steps that weren’t removed didn’t have a platform or expanded to the side in bunks, not anymore.
The room felt way worse when it was deserted.
The money fell in mechanically alongside the hum of the sound it produced as it clattered inside the nearly filled up piggy bank, some players standing in awe at the amount of money presented. "In the fourth game, seventy five players were eliminated. Now, we have twenty five players remaining. The prize money is now up to 43.1 billion won, and the share to each person here is 1.724 billion won."
Your breath hitched. This surely had to mean the games would stop— you really hoped that’s what it meant. There was no way this wasn’t enough, unless the continuing players really did mean to play with their luck.
You didn’t let yourself hope anymore. You were outnumbered, voting was futile when the answer was clear.
"Now, you will take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not."
Eun-seo had already fallen asleep, resting against your arms. You tried your best to get some sleep, exhaustion taking over your body for the moment. You didn’t get much of it, soon you were already in the same neat separated groups you had been since the first voting.
"We will now start from the decreasing numbers up to the higher ones. Player 068, please cast your vote." The footsteps didn’t scare anymore, you didn’t anticipate anyone changing their minds because everyone was too far gone. Either too far gone in their own desires, or too scared to go against the remaining group of o’s.
Because there were still forks tucked inside the pillowcases of bunks that weren’t taken away.
"If you wish to end them, press the X button."
A buzz of confirmation, your eyes remained locked on the screen as the zero to zero tie flickered to one against zero. Most players in the voting wanted to continue, you knew you would lose.
Your hopes of winning were also low. Your ankle was still fractured, you had just given birth. You were mostly weak and fighting to move your body. At least if you died, Soobin would be strong enough to make it out of here and take care of Eun-seo.
Your vote still remained against the games, the red patch had already seared into the velcro layer of the left side of your uniform. The numbers of players against this game thinned, you didn’t focus on the score screen anymore. You focused on your daughter. On Soobin, who still held you by the waist. If you two made it here so far, you could push on a little more, right?
The vote had the outcome you expected, you didn’t count the difference in votes anymore because it didn’t matter. Losing was still losing, crying over spilled milk was useless. Instead, as soon as the voting ended, you tucked Eun-seo in bed between you and Soobin. Sleep didn’t come easy to you naturally, not with every sense of yours on edge.
So you lulled your mind to sleep to the image of this same moment in another scenario. Maybe in a few days, maybe when you were out of here and under the warm blankets of your then shared bedroom in a house you two picked without worrying about money. You’d fill that house with warm memories, giving Eun-seo a happy childhood rather than one filled with sadness and anger. Fill your house with laughter and the memory of her first steps, the idea of you and Soobin taking her to the first day of preschool, and lastly, the final thought that breached your no longer struggling brain was the idea of the world becoming simpler, growing old with Soobin as you sat in rocking chairs in the front porch, reminiscing every choice you made together to make it to where you hoped you’d be.
Next morning arrived way too quickly, the lights you hated for being harsh had never gotten easier on your waking eyes. The rest you took was short lived, the pain from yesterday just deepened. Your ankle was sore, propped up on a pillow Beomgyu had placed under your ankle before he slipped into a bunk next to the mattress you and Soobin slept in.
You rubbed sleep away from your eyes, glancing at Soobin who had already started to stir awake. He had barely gripped reality properly, but he still smiled at the blurry, grainy vision of you. "Morning."
You wanted to wake up next to him everyday. Truly, you just hoped fate wouldn’t take him from you too. You weren’t sure if you would be able to take it.
"The fifth game will start soon, please follow the instructions from our staff!"
You rubbed your sore neck, already picking up Eun-seo. You walked with Soobin’s help, Beomgyu carried Eun-seo and walked ahead because he insisted you shouldn’t put too much stress on your body. If you were alone in here, you probably would have died already. The steps in itself were agony.
The classical music grated your ears, pain exploding through your nerves every time you stepped onto another step. It was excruciating, raw. Almost as if your ankle was going through that same exact moment where it snapped with a sickening crunch over and over again. Still, you kept going. Not complying with the staff meant elimination.
"Let me carry you." Soobin halted, unable to see you in so much pain for too long. Every step was agony, especially since your ankle kept swelling within every hour. You needed a doctor as soon as possible, but since you couldn’t get one in here, your best option would be to not walk on it.
"I’m fine," you reassured, already a half step towards the higher level.
"You shouldn’t walk on it, just—let me take care of you." He insisted, exasperated. Arguing against Soobin was practically useless. "You said you trusted me. You’ve trusted me this far, so let me take care of you and stop putting yourself through so much agony. You’ve just given birth, too. Let your body rest and leave everything else to me."
Once again, you shoved all your pride down your throat. Head jerking in nods instead of words, all because his concern and careful acts always caught you off guard enough to strip you mentally.
"Fine."
The rest of the way up the steps were quiet, filled with hearts that beat way too fast for the confidence his mouth spoke with and your brain believed in. The doors opened to a dark scenario, almost as dark as the starry night of the previous game, except it was hazy. Your heart stuttered, breath stuck in your chest. In front of you, a doll almost as tall as the doll who had been counting in red light green light stood. For sure, it had to be her. Across from her was another doll, a boy with a carved smile. Almost as if they wouldn’t be the cause of your deaths.
There was a bridge between them, a gap that would ensure a false step would be a gruesome fall to the floor. Jumping rope.
You wanted to puke. There was no way you were surviving this, not with a fractured ankle.
The ceiling above you was high, colors of purple and hues of orange kissing and mingling with lighter and darker shades of blue. You were extremely high up. You could tell from the gap you saw in the bridge that this wasn’t a short fall, it was one that would either kill you immediately or strike you and leave you bleeding out in agony.
"What the hell is this?" You heard someone mutter, you weren’t the only one intimidated by the overwhelming size of the dolls and the distance that seemed farther than it actually was that led to the safety of the other side.
"Welcome to the fifth game! The game you will be playing is Jump rope. You must cross the bridge as you jump over the rotating rope and get to the other side within twenty minutes."
Soobin placed you against a nearby bench the arena had to offer, kneeling down next to you. Beomgyu found the two of you next, he didn’t need to ask for you to know that he was wondering how the hell you’d cross with a fractured ankle and with your baby here.
"You may decide on the order amongst yourselves."
"How the hell are we going to cross?" Beomgyu hissed, grimacing as Soobin pulled up the hem of the bottom of your pants. Your ankle was way too bad to jump on, even if you managed to haul yourself to the bridge, you would trip on the rope and fall. "She can’t cross—it’s almost as if they want her dead."
"We’ll find a way." Soobin shakily replied, but every exit was far too risky.
"Now, let the game begin!"
The sound of the rope finally unlocking from its still hold rang loudly through the room, the swish of the rope aggressive. It cut through the wind sharper than the blade from the previous game, fast. When you played jump rope as a kid, it sometimes resulted in angry marks of rope burns on your legs. This time, not jumping on time would mean you’d crack your skull open after a brutal fall.
"Knock, knock. Who is there? Your little friend! Come on in!"
Anyone who grew up during your time before the screens knew this song. It was memorized by every kid, a song that tied every childhood together.
"Little friend, little friend, turn around. Little friend, little friend, touch the ground."
You had never been so glad that the rules didn’t require you to follow the song. It would make it impossible to win.
"Little friend, little friend, touch your toe. Little friend, little friend, now away you go."
You shook your head, a pressure building up heavily in your chest as you watched some players jump before even being in the bridge, trying to find the perfect timing.
"Soobin, no. Leave me here." You pleaded, clasping his hands between your own. "Take Eun-seo and leave, it’s too dangerous. It’s best if I go than you, you have a best shot at winning and Beomgyu—"
"We’re not leaving you here, Y/N. We made it here this far, you can’t be serious if you expect us to abandon you here!" Soobin’s voice raised a bit louder than necessary, drawing the eyes of other players who just ignored it to focus on their own game right now.
He shook his head, allowing his shoulders to slump forward. "If you die, then I’m dying here too. There’s no in between."
"You can’t do this." You insisted, frustrated.
"Then let me do this for you." He paused, the emotion in his voice and determination to somehow get you two across weakening your resolve.
"I’ll cross with Eun-seo." Beomgyu fidgeted with the fabric of his jacket that had been used to wrap Eun-seo up until now. "I’ll make it to the other side. You bring Y/N, she can’t jump like that."
The timer ticked down to sixteen minutes, Soobin adjusted a neat podaegi. Once he knotted the fabric three times to ensure Eun-seo wouldn’t fall, he gripped Beomgyu by the shoulders. Urgent.
"I want to see you two on the other side." Was all he said. He didn’t hesitate, he fully trusted Beomgyu. If he kept you safe throughout the games while he wasn’t there to be with you, then he could trust Beomgyu to keep his daughter safe.
"I’ll see you and Y/N there." He nodded, meeting your teary eyes one last time. He offered you a smile, then finally turned away towards the parted legs of the doll that were an entrance towards the bridge.
"We can’t just stay here, someone has to go!" Player 100 exclaimed, freaking out. No one wanted to go first, even if going first, between, or last didn’t change what fate had prepared for you, no one wanted to experience it first. Just like no kid wanted to be called up first on the starting days of school to solve a new math problem on the board.
"You’re all talk. If you want someone to go already, then take the lead!" Another player retorted.
"I’ll go first." Beomgyu finally managed out, pushing past the crowd of players as he zipped the jacket to cover Eun-seo’s body completely. Swallowing down every bit of dread and urge to recoil away from the rope. With a calculated glance, as soon as the rope flung upwards, he sprinted forwards on the little space the bridge provided as much as he could, jumping once the corner of his eye caught it swinging down close to his feet.
The players behind gasped, you held your air as you tried to stare past the crowd. You couldn’t see clearly.
Beomgyu’s heart was beating so hard he swore it might as well kill him before the rope even did. His balance faltered, he gripped Eun-seo tighter as he recovered it quickly. Her wails pierced the air, but he jumped again. He had to ignore her for now if he wanted to live. He took one more jump to regain his footing, refusing to remain still for too long, he made another run for it, nearing the gap on the bridge.
Holy shit, Beomgyu’s mind raced, he couldn’t help but feel dizzy as he stared at how far the ground was from the bridge. The gap was not too large, it wasn’t impossible to cross, but a step too short would take anyone to their deaths. He forced his vision back, refusing to let it blur. He kept jumping, kept his focus even as he stood still in the same place.
"Why isn’t he going?" You limped forward, arm swung over Soobin’s arm. You were terrified, what scared you most of all was the possibility of Eun-seo dying with Beomgyu and you living. You’d never forgive yourself if it happened. "What is he doing?"
"There’s probably a gap in the bridge to make this more difficult." Soobin groaned, running a free hand through his hair, tugging at it to release the stress.
"JUST JUMP!" Player 100 screamed, for a moment, you swore that the parts of the players that cheered each other on during the pentathlon came back. Everyone wanted Beomgyu and the baby to make it across.
Beomgyu pushed forward in a jump as soon as the rope swung upwards, bending over as sweat dripped down his neck. His knees thudded heavily against the bridge, despite the exertion, he still forced himself up to jump as the rope ricocheted down again. He stopped making runs for it in order to keep his balance.
One, two. Beomgyu counted mentally, jumping every time he reached two, then he took two steps forward. Only making a final run for it once he was close to the other side of the bridge, he stumbled forward, catching himself on the gelid leg of the doll.
Cheers erupted from your side of the bridge, a smile breaking through your face. Your chest flooded with relief, they were alive.
"He did it." You breathed out in relief, your nails no longer digging into your clammy palms to let out your anxiety that rippled through you in waves.
"Player 120, pass!"
Beomgyu’s hand shook as they unzipped the jacket, Eun-seo’s crying face coming into view. She was unharmed, still safe. He turned and searched for you and Soobin in the crowd of cheering players, raising Eun-seo’s body in the air. "Y/N! I have her! Please come right away!"
With the display of courage, more players pushed forward. Jumping in rhythm together.
"Come on, we have to go." Soobin ushered, arms hooking under the back of your knees and supporting your torso. "We’ll be there soon, okay? Don’t worry."
The timer was already down to twelve minutes, Soobin pushed through the crowd of players who were already lining up to go. Without hesitating, he rushed forwards the second the rope flung above your heads.
Everything seemed to go in slow motion.
It swished down, Soobin’s body rippled everywhere with every thud of his feet against the ground. Your eyes flickered to the floor beneath the bridge, the distance enough to make acidic bile rise up your throat. You were utterly dependent on Soobin.
You weren’t married, at least not yet, but this felt like a seal of ‘until death do us apart’. Was this truly what the promise was? Most people said it aimlessly, some meant it, but you never realized how heavy that vow could be. Not until now.
A scream of a falling player caught your attention. From the bending over players that kept jumping, you saw someone else already at the other side with Beomgyu. He was standing at the very edge of the end of the bridge, pushing players down.
"Player 312, eliminated!"
No one moved. No one dared to.
"Yah, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!" Beomgyu barked, setting Eun-seo down against a bench he found. Everyone on the bridge was still jumping, but no one could jump for twelve minutes. Even if they could, all of you would be eliminated with no doubts.
"What do you think I’m doing?" The man smiled, manic. "I’m playing the game."
"No one can cross the bridge, you shitheads!" The man shouted, standing menacingly to stop players from coming through.
"Shit, what the hell is he doing?" Soobin cursed, exhaustion slowly creeping in as he gripped you a little more tightly, his legs straining under the added weight your body possessed landing alongside his own body weight.
"Holding us off." You choked out, your throat feeling too tight for you to breathe.
"Player 163, eliminated!"
"Player 178, eliminated!"
"Hey, stop that bullshit!" Beomgyu scolded, taking a step forward—he really was trying to give this guy the benefit of doubt.
"Stop what? Come help me stop them from crossing! If we both win, we’ll each leave with 23.25 billion won each!" He boasted, already pushing off another player.
"Player 177, eliminated!"
"Player 352, eliminated!"
With every body dropped, Soobin pushed forward. Once you neared the gap in the bridge, he sucked in a deep breath. The whirl of the rope cracking in the air was overwhelming, now he understood why Beomgyu took so long to cross the gap.
"We’re going to die." You whispered, clinging to his shirt until your knuckles turned white. "He’s not going to let us through."
"I promise, I’ll make sure you cross even if it’s the last thing I do." Soobin forced out through his teeth, his breath too short to form a proper speech without panting.
"Move." Beomgyu gritted through his teeth, the rope speeding up was sure to tire everyone out eventually.
"Don’t you get it? Do you know just how much money that is?"
"Yeah? What if I pushed you from behind? Then I wouldn’t have to share it." The barely contained rage on Beomgyu’s face finally did something, pushing the guy to actually step aside.
No amount of added money was worth being pushed off after surviving this far.
"Come on, the rope is speeding up!" He barked towards the players on the bridge, relief and gratitude painting their expressions together all at once.
"Player 100, pass."
With every passing player, your eyes caught at the clock. The bridge was already becoming too full on the side behind the gap, there was no choice but to jump over. Soobin wouldn’t be able to jump forever, especially not with you in his arms.
Nearly losing his balance, Soobin rushed and jumped forward with burning legs. The view of the other platform became clearer, the distance shortening with every jump and ricochet of the quickening rope. "Almost there, we’ve got this."
"Just make a run for it! You’re going to run out of time!" Beomgyu ushered, you felt so sick with relief you were sure you were becoming green-faced.
"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" The commotion ahead stopped Soobin in the tracks, so close but so far. Beomgyu hit the ground before you could process anything further, knuckles against skin pushing grunts from Beomgyu’s mouth.
"We could’ve stopped it here," Player 017 growled, pushing Beomgyu further against the ground. Both of his hands were tight around his throat, intending to choke the life out of him before even throwing Beomgyu off. "But since you pulled off this stunt, I’m taking you out instead and your share."
"Player 425, eliminated!"
"Let him go!" Your words almost hurt due to the tightness of your throat, pushing it down and managing your words when anxiety was pulling at your brain as if you were a puppet controlled by it was hard.
To your horror, the squelch of flesh ripped through the air as sharp as the whip of the rope, another player eliminated behind you, but the squelch didn’t come from the crack of skull hitting the ground that expanded downwards. It came from ahead.
"FUCK! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" Blood seeped down Beomgyu’s thumb, with lacking air and not much strength, he forced his hand upwards. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but his thumb gouged out the eye of the player above him. He grimaced at the feeling, but it wasn’t enough for the hands around his throat to be loosened. As soon as the rope whipped up again, Beomgyu hit his feet against the player’s chest, attempting to mimic what Yeonjun did during the last round as he used every bit of coiled up strength to push the player above his head. Undoubtedly, despite his best efforts, Beomgyu was the one who took the player’s share.
"Player 008, eliminated!"
One quick glance at the clock that marked nearly just two minutes was all Beomgyu needed to extend his hand towards you and Soobin, please keep going.
Every time your body jolted when Soobin’s foot hit the ground, your ankle jerked in place at the more urgent pace of the swinging rope. Your cheek was by now all loose skin and red swells from teeth marks, screwing your eyes shut, it all narrowed down slowly to the song.
"Little friend, little friend, now away you go."
"Make one last run for it, come on, you’re running out of time!" At the sound of Beomgyu’s shout, one last burst of determination despite all the exhaustion came from Soobin. Everything else felt numb, his feet already buzzing, arms swearing they might as well give out—his grip became shaky, he knew you could tell. But he didn’t let go.
The view on the other side often isn’t one you see by your own efforts.
By the time you and Soobin reached the other side, pulled over by the grip of Beomgyu’s hand on Soobin’s arm as soon as he came in reach, he looked awful. Every ounce of energy was left behind each time the rope whirled around, breathing became hard as he wheezed for air.
The world felt almost dull, barely registering it by the time Beomgyu helped you down. Legs swearing like they might give out, Soobin’s knees hit the ground as exhaustion spread like a fever throughout his body. "Holy shit, fuck." And yet, every drop of sheer exhaustion was pushed away as he looked at Beomgyu almost pleadingly, pushing himself to sit on his heels. "Eun-seo, where is she?"
You never thought someone would love your daughter as much as Choi Soobin did.
He wasn’t afraid to cry or show the overwhelming emotions anymore, a choked sound left him along with the tears the second Beomgyu adjusted her in his arms. He looked so painfully relieved, holding Eun-seo as if she was going to disappear if he let go.
Promises were slowly regaining their meanings. Maybe the promises that were broken in his childhood never were meant to be fulfilled, those promises were empty because the ones who promised him to fulfill their words never actually attempted to fulfill them. But through the effort of his own hands, even if it required more effort, that tiny spark was flickering back again.
"The game is over!"
WHAT WAS WORTH MORE MONEY? The question kept ringing inside your head as Eun-seo’s gulping sounds echoed in your ears. She had been struggling to get a proper latch for at least ten minutes, by then, you were completely sure the remaining players aside from Beomgyu and Soobin were sick of the sound of her shrieks. Nothing would prepare you for how loud her cries would sometimes be, or how hard it’d be to figure out why she was crying. The room was vacant, so empty you could nearly feel the judging presence of the dead players. More than three hundred who were just seeking another chance at life.
"Congratulations to all of you who made it through the fifth game." This same greeting was getting old by now, but you were glad to hear it. At least because it meant you made it one more day. Making it through the week never seemed hard, even when you were in school. Now, a new layer of hell unraveled each time you woke up to play another game. "Here are the results of the fifth game."
"Do you think they’ll finally vote to get out?" Beomgyu murmured, head tipped sideways as his eyes locked on the piggy bank that came down. The light was far more overpowering now that empty bunks were removed from the room, it left all of you completely exposed. Beomgyu fought through these games just to get enough money to pay his debt, and yet, this amount of money would be enough to stay well off for the rest of his life. Especially if he invested in it. "There’s no way nearly six billion won isn’t enough."
"One of the surviving players owes 10 billion, I don’t know if he’ll ever go against these games." Your body loosened further as you settled further against Soobin’s side, head resting over the soft thrum of his now calmed down heart. "I don’t know about the others, though. Should be enough for them."
"In the fifth game, 16 players were eliminated. We now have ten players remaining. The prize money now accumulated is 44.7 billion won, and each person’s share is now 4.96 Billion won." You had never dreamed of having so much money. The word billion was enough to leave your throat dry and patchy, you once thought you’d have it all figured out with the money but—where would you even start?
"4.96 Billion won?" Someone questioned, the incredulity filling their voices. Something wasn’t right. You quickly counted the players sitting down and spread around the room, there were nine. So why did the guard say ten? "Why the hell is our share 4.96 Billion won when there’s nine of us?!"
"There are ten remaining players. Player 374, player 120, player 100, player 434, player 333, player 155, player 089, player 229, and player 454." The guard announced calmly, unmoving.
454 used to be Yeonjun’s number.
You felt your hands start to shake, there was no way they intended to make your baby a player. But as your eyes locked onto Eun-seo’s face peacefully feeding, you realized that morality really had no meaning here. If you were in the games, it means you’re a player.
"This is wrong! That baby is not a player!" Soobin scampered off of the bed, hand pointed towards you. How much worse could these games get? "How do you expect a newborn to compete? Don’t you see how unfair that is?!"
"You said all players are presented with an equal chance of winning, her baby hasn’t even opened her eyes yet!" Beomgyu was off next, chest rising too quickly like he was in the arena all over again.
"You are correct. But a player’s physical conditions aren’t to be taken care of by us, and if someone is in the games, then they apply to the equality rules we provide, making them a player." The guard replied without hesitation. Like a baby playing in a death game wasn’t outrageous.
"454? Isn’t that the chick that wanted to be a man? That player died during hide and seek!" Player 100 was practically fuming, of course he would be. He was the one who owed the most debt.
Sunghoon was staring so hard at you that you almost felt the heat of it burn through your skin. You couldn’t tell if he was pissed, or if he pitied the situation. You had always deemed him as easy to read, but now, you weren’t so sure about that anymore.
"That damn bitch is dead, and being dead means that money should be ours by rights!" Player 155 was already standing up, fists clenching as he turned towards your direction. "That damn baby has done nothing to deserve our hard earned money!"
"That’s right, we’ve earned that money by risking our lives in the games!" Player 229 jumped in, pointing fingers at you and Eun-seo. You could feel Soobin tense next to you, but fighting all of these players would be hard if they decided that they wanted you and Eun-seo dead. "That damn baby shows up out of nowhere because this bitch spread her legs and came in here pregnant, makes it become a player, and gets to take a share of the money?! That just means player 434 will get double the amount of money!"
You reached into the breached opening of the pillow, hands twisting and pushing aside stuffing until you felt the sharp teeth of forks hit your palm. You wrapped your hand around the handle, if they wanted to kill you, then you wouldn’t let them take you without a fight.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Another player roared, most of them now standing and fuming with rage. "This is outrageous! So if I die here, you’re going to give my prize money to a damn baby?!"
"My prize money is down by 700 million because of a baby? This shit is unacceptable!" Someone else roared, most players were already stepping towards you. Your stomach tied in knots, ready to whisk out your fork at any given time.
"That’s right! If that player is dead, then the baby should also be eliminated if it inherited that number!" The voices morphed, all of them going through stages of not accepting the new ‘rule.’ But what was 700 million compared to 4.96 billion?
Human greed could rot anyone from the inside out.
It was why you were being bet on like horses.
"Damn right that baby should be eliminated! If the player is dead, the kid should be eliminated too!" They were animalistic, a part of you wasn’t sure if these men were in their right minds anymore. "We have to kill it."
"The baby must die too! We can’t let this happen! It has to be eliminated!" You pulled the fork out, never showcasing it as you pushed yourself off of the bed with one arm still cradling Eun-seo awkwardly. She started to wail at the commotion, already squirming in the podaegi. The players were already thundering towards you, Soobin and Beomgyu were standing defensively—was killing in the arenas not enough?
"No way in hell we’re taking this nonsense!" Player 100 barked.
"That’s just a baby, what the hell are all of you thinking?!" Beomgyu roared, unsure of what was worse—grown men deciding they should kill a baby for money, or these masked guards deciding a baby should partake in the games.
"This is bullshit! Hand the baby over, 434!"
You clutched Eun-seo tighter, pressing her against your shoulder as you brought your shirt back down. Eyes wide with fear, your mouth went dry. They looked wild. And the guards weren’t even doing anything. Sunghoon was standing there, but he wasn’t doing anything to stop the gathering of players. You weren’t sure why you expected him to step up for once in his life. "Give me that damn baby! Hand it over or I’ll kill you too!"
A gunshot rang clean in the air, you flinched as your eyes snapped towards the guards. Eun-seo wouldn’t stop wailing, you were yet to pick which sound was making your head hurt the most.
"Physical violence amongst players will no longer be allowed. It is our intention to give every player a fair chance." The metal doors opened behind the square masked guard, circle ones marching like programmed robots into the room carrying neat boxes. They stood in rows, nine of them on each side of the square mask, their superior. "To congratulate you for reaching the final game, we have prepared a special gift."
The gamemakers and guards alike called the suit you were given comfort, you called it bullshit. It was a piece of fabric meant as a slight taste of victory. The pristine white fabric felt wrong on your battered body, loose and clean as a contrast to the dirt and grime that clung to your skin like it had imprinted itself there. The fabric was airy, soon to be stained with blood if the games didn’t stop today during voting. You fastened the bow tie around your neck clumsily, never being taught how to do it properly and left it crooked beneath the collar of the button up.
It was a nice change from the tracksuit that reeked of your efforts and losses in the arenas, discarded on the ground like a memory you wanted to leave behind. Eun-seo was tucked safely in the sink, already fast asleep. The woman that looked back at you, glimmering in the reflection, screamed survivor. But she wasn’t you. A part of you, a particularly soft and empathetic part died over the course of the last few days. Dark circles appeared on your face, your hair was so matted you weren’t sure how long it would take to untangle it. Your lips were cracked and bleeding, and you could barely even hold yourself up.
Hands splashed cold water on your face as you bent over, there was no one else in here aside from you. No other women. You fought to push down another wave of bubbling up tears, the sting of the cold water that almost felt like small needles prickling your skin washed away the tears that were now at bay. Your breath shook, trying to find a glimpse of someone you once understood so well in that mirror.
You found none.
It was no wonder people got entertained by you. Compared to your day one self, you looked almost as animalistic for survival as the other players.
You took longer than the other players to make it back to the lobby, but once you arrived, the room had already been quickly changed. You wondered how the hell they managed to complete these makeovers so quickly, but the dinner table set up at the center of the room with the wafting scent of a rich steak pushed away any other thoughts of wonder. The piggy bank was now on the floor, nearly filled to the brim with money. The circle center on the floor was checkered black and white, matching the coloring aesthetic of all suits each player received. Chandeliers with candles shining brightly with hues of orange were on each side of the piggy bank, casting a soft glow alongside the already yellowed out lighting over each table arranged neatly next to one another in a circle within the checkered expanse.
You took a seat on a table next to Soobin, Beomgyu was sitting across from you, closer to the source of money. "Ma’am, please enjoy your meal. Your baby will be taken care of." A circle guard gestured towards the carefully crafted crib, you hesitated, but hunger and lack of nutrients made you so weak you couldn’t help but comply.
You were ravenous. Gripping your spoon as you examined all of the dishes presented to you in a feast—Kimchi, rice, vegetables in a blend of fried and boiled side dishes, perfectly seasoned meat. You had never been so glad it was mealtime.
"We have prepared as much food and drink as you could need, if you need more, please do not hesitate to ask." From the corner of your eyes, you watched as some players dug into their foods with their bare hands as they picked at the food. Some barely chewed before swallowing, simple dishes you could make at home became almost delicacies you could only taste in five star restaurants. The flavors burst on your tastebuds that were already complaining from the overload of sweet bread and plain food, real nutrients finally being eaten made a sigh of relief make your whole body slightly slump. You ate as if you were starved, because in reality, you were. This was the first proper meal you had in what felt like ages when it really was five days.
Despite the fact you were quick to fill up, you ate until you were stuffed. Your stomach couldn’t handle much, not when you were fed as little as possible in equal portions. You didn’t want to waste this. Eun-seo was being fed in an already warmed up bottle of milk by a circle guard, it was the first time you had seen these guards do something decent.
You wondered if beneath those masks, they regretted everything.
Soon, your stomach couldn’t physically handle much, so you tipped backwards against the chair. Some were still eating as two circle guards brought out the voting machine.
"You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not. But before we begin, you will be given a hint about the final game."
You thought you were maybe hallucinating after eating so much, but a few gasps some players couldn’t hold back at the words clearly said otherwise.
"In the final game, you will each get to choose which players to eliminate."
Your hands froze. This couldn’t be good—but of course they would do anything to make sure the game was concluded. You knew that you would be the first to be taken out, you or Eun-seo. You were both the weakest in here.
"What? We get to decide who will be eliminated?" Soobin shook his head, never missing the malicious intent gleaming in the eyes of the players who had a circle patch on their chest.
"That is correct. If you can all agree which three players should be eliminated, everyone else will make it through the game." You cast your eyes downwards to your hands, trying to disappear to avoid the malicious stares directed towards you, but there was nowhere to hide. You, Eun-seo, and maybe Beomgyu had a chance of being voted out. Soobin was taller and bigger, Beomgyu could fight—but he had clearly gotten on the nerves of most players here more than Soobin had.
“So we just need to eliminate three people, and we get to decide who?" A player whose voice was filled with hope asked.
"In the final game, you only need to eliminate a minimum of three players." The guard nodded.
"You said a minimum of three players, but doesn’t that mean more than three can be eliminated?" Sunghoon asked hesitantly.
"That is correct. However, the choice will be yours."
"So we can also decide how many will be eliminated?" A shaky voice peered up, your eyes shifted to scan over the speaking player—089. You hadn’t paid much attention to him, hadn’t had a chance to. But now, up close, it wasn’t hard to tell he was scared.
"That is correct."
"Damn it. Explain this shit better, what the fuck are you saying?" Player 155 dropped his fork, quick to rise to his temper.
"Let me get this straight. All we need to do is eliminate at least three people, and we get to decide who they will be?" Player 100’s hands moved as he cleared it up, a broad smile painting his face.
"That is correct. It’s entirely up to you to decide who will be eliminated in the final game. If you eliminate three players, the rest will be able to leave this place as the final winners." You took a sip of your water, forcing it down your clogging throat. They wouldn’t vote to leave—not when they could kill your baby and two more people and leave with a higher prize. "The vote will be held in reverse order of your player number. Player 454, please cast your vote."
Your eyes darted towards Eun-seo, who was already fast asleep after being fed. Gripping the fabric of the white table cloth with your fingers slick with some residue of sauce from the food, staining it below your fingers. "Can’t I place the vote for her? I’m her mother, she can’t even speak yet."
"Bullshit! If she’s a player, she should have a say of herself!" Player 100 slammed his fist against his table, you gritted your teeth tighter. You had never in your life wanted someone dead as badly as you wanted this man to die.
"That would be interfering with the votes. If player 454 doesn’t cast her vote, then the vote will count as abstention." You swallowed down your urge to argue, watching the guard count down to zero from five.
"The vote is registered as abstention. Player 434, please cast your vote." Holding your breath and every ounce of frustration, you pushed through the pain with a tight jaw as you limped towards the voting machine. You didn’t hesitate to slam down the red button, every ounce of rage towards these games placed solely on a single choice. Fuck these games, these guards, and whoever operates this shit.
It wasn’t a surprise that the continuing players won, no one changed their minds. Voting was practically useless in this scenario when all of the choices were set in stone. It was a waste of breath and strength.
"Does anyone have any objections?"
"I have.." You quickly glanced at player 155, who now stood with his bowl of rice and shoved down one last spoonful down his throat with a triumphant smile like he had already won. "No objections. Now, can I have some more rice?"
"As you wish."
"Then, with no objections, let’s toast to giving it our best shot until the end!" Player 100 roared with a grin, and as they raised their glasses and cheered in victory, you were already retreating to your bed. Eun-seo was already in your arms, asleep and blissfully unaware. Soobin’s footsteps were quick behind you, closing the distance.
Faintly, the players who were confident of winning completely ignored the movements. Most were boasting, already offering to pay dinners in fancy places, go on trips in fancy first class flights. "Get me some more kimchi—japchae too, hurry!"
"They’re going to vote me out." You stated, even though both of you already knew they would. "If—when they do, don’t let them take Eun-seo."
"Y/N—" Soobin cut in, desperate to reassure.
"No." You bit sharply, despite the tears that already started forming, you still met his gaze head on. "Soobin, you have to promise me you’ll get Eun-seo out even if it’s the last thing you do."
"I—"
"Promise me." You hissed. You had already lived enough— even if you hadn’t even reached your thirties, a young life living from the start and with stability was better than you, who already was so scarred by life. "Please. I’m begging you. I don’t care if I die here, but I want her to leave. I don’t want her to die when she has everything it takes to live a life I never got the chance to live."
The intensity in your eyes was overpowering, you had always been scared to die. But the irony wasn’t lost on you. The fear would death would have to die to the blade of your instincts, of what was right. Soobin held your shoulders, shaking his head. "I can’t let them get you."
"You have to." You pressed further, so fierce that your certainty made you seem untouchable. Maybe if you hadn’t just given birth, maybe if you hadn’t fractured your ankle as badly as you had, you would be able to fight during the last game. "Promise me."
"I don’t have a problem with promising you to get her out, you know I don’t." Nothing left but a mere weakening resolve was left in Soobin’s voice, his forehead pressed against yours while you were still here—still tangible. "If she leaves, you’re leaving too. Let me do that much."
"What if you don’t leave either? They’ll target us." The soft, tender cradle of Soobin’s hands on your face held you as if he was already mourning. Obeying you meant accepting you would die, following his own choice would mean he would die trying without the certainty of you or Eun-seo making it out.
"I’ll figure out a way, okay? I promise. We’ll all leave. Just trust me one last time." He’s scared—you can tell Soobin is terrified. He doesn’t want to die as much as you don’t want him to. But you found that Soobin was someone who always looked at fear in the face and fought against it until he had nothing else to fear anymore.
You hated that he was like this sometimes. You wished that maybe he would just take Eun-seo and leave you. But he wouldn’t.
Because he loved you. And being without you was worse than being someone swimming in billions of won.
"We’ll get out of here. Buy a house, maybe have a dog or two or—another baby if you want it. Without the stress, just us." Lips hovering above yours, his hands steadied you. Soothing momentarily all of the worries that flooded your heart. "I’ll make it happen."
Even if you’d never last in your own eyes, you still kissed him back as if this was perennial.
YOU LOOKED BEAUTIFUL under the soft glow of the lights, Soobin analyzed. Your body was drained from all the barriers and fights you put up, the lines of your face so tired but still unbearably breathtaking. The world around you quieted down, your guard lowered as you sought warmth next to him.
He wanted to experience this everyday. To wake up in the haze of mornings with your rested face next to his, to analyze you each morning until the image of you was permeable in his mind so he wouldn’t ever forget how you looked like.
Even if he couldn’t witness this, he still wanted to die with the lingering memory of you. He wanted you to feel this peaceful everyday.
Before bedtime, Soobin had already watched the players who voted to continue crowd up and start likely voting on who to eliminate. They would go for you, then Eun-seo, and the last choice was between him and Beomgyu. The gears in his head turned, sleep refused to grace him. He didn’t have a plan to somehow get all of you—the four of you, out of here safely. Especially when you were incredibly outnumbered. You were wounded, Eun-seo was a baby. It was him and Beomgyu against six.
"Player 374." Soobin immediately propped himself up at the sound of the guard’s voice. He stood there without a gun, there wasn’t a way of him harming any of you. Either way, he didn’t have a reason to. But wariness came naturally since they were in charge of killing you. "There’s someone who wants to see you."
For a moment, Soobin’s heart missed a beat or two. Chest tightening. He didn’t answer right away, he let his eyes linger on Eun-seo as his hand tightened around the crib, then at you, how peaceful you were. Fast asleep, just relaxing because he was keeping watch.
"They’ll be fine, it’s just a short meeting." Almost as if reading his mind, the guard gave a look at the fork that gleamed beneath your pillow. "She can defend herself, and they wouldn’t try to get eliminated before the last game."
Despite all hesitation, Soobin found himself sliding off from the bed and following the guard in soft thumps of his feet. His mind was spinning with questions, from who wanted to talk to him, to what did they want with him. He kept his lips sealed, all the questions he managed to ask himself in the short time he walked around the facility were wrapped behind his lips. He’d ask whoever wanted to talk to him instead of a guard who was following directions.
In a way, the guards were a pawn in these games just like each player who lived and each player who survived was.
The air smelled expensive in the elevator, a shift from the way the lobby reeked of survival and the constant sharp edge of frayed nerves. The elevator was colder, biting onto his quaking hands that Soobin shoved in the pockets of the expensive material of his tailored pants. The building shifted within every room, each one leading deeper.
The hallway was painted in black, not a single trace of anything colorful lingered in the walls. It led deeper, a silhouette being illuminated by the light of a lamp standing still and glowing, definitely as expensive as the shine it emanated, above a wooden furniture next to the leather that squeaked as the person who called for him crossed their legs.
"Player 374." The voice, despite being altered by something built within the mask, sounded expensive. Judging by the expensive design of the room—the paintings, the bottles of liquor arranged neatly by names and labels on a nearby stand, the soft jazz almost inaudible in the back let Soobin know what this was about. Who this was.
This wasn’t some guard or instructor, no. This was the leader.
"Please, take a seat." He motioned for Soobin to sit down. Warily, he examined the room one last time. There were no guns, the guard who had brought him in here left with the clink of the elevator buzzing downwards back at the entrance that led to this room. "Have some whiskey."
It wouldn’t be fair to poison a player, Soobin disappearing would make everything far too suspicious. If they were being watched, then the spectators would be upset at seeing him dying, assuming they enjoyed seeing him plead and fight for just a woman and her baby. That’s what you three probably were. His fingers wrapped around the cup with a force bigger than necessary, the liquid burning hot but soothing against his throat—down in one go. Every move was watched, especially as he slammed the glass down against the table.
"What do you want from me?" His expression remained frozen despite the superiority that wanted to crush him, remaining serious. He didn’t want to be afraid.
"It’s about your future, her future, and the baby’s." The masked figure stated, at least Soobin had been right about what he was called down here for.
"Did you ever plan on giving us a chance to have a future to even begin with?" Soobin scoffed.
"I’m giving you one now. Since as you’ve probably guessed, they’ll both be the main targets by the unified players in the next game." He took a pause to let the gravity sink in, you won’t have a choice but to listen. That was what the underlying part of his speech conveyed.
"Isn’t that what all of you want? Whoever is watching us play, isn’t that the whole point? It’s why you put a newborn baby in the game." Soobin’s voice was strained, full of barely contained anger. This was the man behind all suffering and cruelty—it was enough to put behind him all of his politeness and respect. "You want to see all of these greedy fuckers kill the baby and Y/N so you can laugh and cheer about their deaths."
"If that was my intention, then I wouldn’t have called you down here and offered my help." The monotonous voice did little to stomp off the fire flickering in Soobin’s eyes, why would he want help from a killer after all this time?
A bitter laugh left Soobin’s lips, shaking his head. "You’re trying to help us?"
He didn’t get an answer, not in words, at least. The clatter of a knife next to the bottle of whiskey between them on the table was his answer. Black and golden, designed beautifully. It was detailed with half triangles on the golden parts, but the ones coated in black were smooth. His face paled.
"Take this knife back to the lobby and kill all of these trash who wants to kill you and them." He held his air, fingers tapping against his thigh. "But that means you’d have to kill the other man, too."
Of course there was a but. It was too good to be true. "Kill Beomgyu? You can’t be serious! Do you even—" Soobin snapped, but was cut off before it could escalate further.
"As long as there are more than three players, the game is still playable. You can’t have a winner with three players left, not in this last game." The man instructed, but never forcing. "They’re all fast asleep after a good drink and food. Slit their throats one by one, but do it quickly. No one will ever notice. Then, you’ll leave with the money and the two people who are your priority."
Soobin could do it. He didn’t mind shedding more blood for you at this point, but the thought of killing Beomgyu felt wrong. Beomgyu was the one who carried Eun-seo over the bridge, he wouldn’t make it in time if he went back and forth to cross you over. Beomgyu was the one who helped you give birth, he was the one of the people he trusted to keep you safe during the pentathlon— fucking hell.
He never truly understood why heroes thought too hard about the question of saving their lover or more people, but now he did. Either Beomgyu lived one more night to partake in the games and you four went against the six remaining players, or he killed everyone and fractured a part of your trust since you really wanted no one else from your close circle to die, or he killed everyone but Beomgyu, but then tomorrow, only one of you would live.
"Why are you suggesting I do this?" Soobin’s voice wavered for once, the weight of choice showing in his voice. He had a way out, but he didn’t know what to do.
No other spoken answer. The air was taken by the sound of rustling clothes as the gloved hand of the superior reached towards the top of his head, sliding the hoodie down. Soobin’s lips parted in almost disbelief, pinching his palm to check if this was maybe a dream. It wasn’t.
The mask slid next with ease. The sight was enough to make his whole world flip upside down.
Taehyun— Kang Taehyun. He swore he died, you had told him that Taehyun died after saving Beomgyu’s life. So how was he here?
He lied to all of you all along. This wasn’t the Taehyun whom Soobin knew, no. It was someone he used to know.
A flood of emotions crashed next, Soobin’s breath left too quickly in disbelief, he didn’t want to believe that Taehyun was behind this all along. Then anger. Pure, hot—nearly blinding. He leaned back, shaking his head as Taehyun looked at him straight in the eyes with no emotions at all. He had seen all of you struggle with his very eyes, and it was all a game to him. A lie to entertain himself.
"Mr. Choi Soobin." He greeted. "My deepest apologies for Kai’s and Yeonjun’s death."
In a flash, Soobin grabbed the handle of the blade and removed the protective cap, the rage so explosive he could feel it thrumming within his veins. Beads of sweat formed without asking despite the lack of physical exertion, his teeth clenched tight. He wanted to believe this was a joke, maybe give Taehyun the benefit of doubt. But everything was tossed plain and simple right in front of him.
Still, his hand shook. Because this wasn’t just the leader, it was still Taehyun deep down.
"Do you want to kill me?" Taehyun’s head cocked to the side, yet he wasn’t smug. Just remained blank faced like none of this mattered. "Then go ahead, I’m not stopping you. It’s just you and me, no one to stop you." He paused, sighing. "But killing me won’t change anything, because someone else will take my place. And wanting it or not, the game will still happen tomorrow."
Soobin was tense all over, body quaking. His mind screamed at him to move, kill—soak his hands in blood. But he wasn’t a killer, not like Taehyun was. So despite all of the noises of his mouth seeking breath and choked back waves of emotions, he remained impossibly still.
"And in that game," Taehyun continued, eyes unwavering. "You’ll have to fight the same motherfuckers trying to kill you and them."
Soobin hated that he was right. This wasn’t just led by him, it was an insanely huge facility. Maybe Taehyun was just another pawn in a bigger game. So he sucked in a deep breath, lowering the knife and letting his arms sag despite wanting to see Taehyun dead.
He understood Beomgyu now. Why did he seem to want Taehyun dead so badly before the game of hide and seek. But now, that was coming back to get Beomgyu. He wanted Taehyun dead so much that now, if Soobin wanted to save you and Eun-seo before dawn broke, he’d have to kill Beomgyu.
"Once you kill all of them, you and them will be the only players left." Taehyun reminded Soobin, there were few people there to kill, it would be easier. Then, he was taking another shot of liquor. "You can’t play the three stages of the last game and have a winner when one player must die per stage. It’s boring to the spectators. Then, according to the rules, the game will end tonight."
Something in Taehyun’s gaze shifted—a flicker of recognition, maybe something pleading before it died as quickly as it had arrived. "Just like she made you promise, you three will get out of here alive and with the entire quantity of money. You have my word."
Soobin remained grim, breathing hard as he weighed his choices, none of them had a truly good outcome.
"They will try to kill you and the baby tomorrow." Taehyun smiled for once—sick, like he expected Soobin to stoop down as low as he had. "So kill them first. That’s the best choice you can make right now."
Without another exchanged word, Soobin turned around. He couldn’t take a look at Taehyun anymore, or the pressuring choice he’d have to make. He still took the knife, just in case. But he wouldn’t stay here any longer.
"Player 374." Not Choi Soobin, or just Soobin. Taehyun didn’t know Soobin, not this version of Taehyun. "Do you still have faith in yourself to get out unscathed if you choose to not kill them? Get all three of you out?"
The question burned and stung more than it should. Because with every step towards the elevator, Soobin felt more cornered. He didn’t, at least not at the given moment.
It was why Soobin stood next to the bed of one of the players, player 100. The one he particularly despised. The blade glinted and reflected the hue of purple, it would be a short death, pointed right at his throat. His snores would just become gurgles, but he wouldn’t feel a thing. The time he stood pressing the blade to the softness of his skin felt like eternity, hands never ceasing the shaking motions. With a heaving chest, he still looked over his shoulder. Towards Beomgyu. He slept peacefully, he still believed he’d get out of here too.
"We should all have dinner together!" The excited words that left Beomgyu on the prior days rang like a ghost in his mind, making Soobin curse.
He couldn’t do it. Not like this.
If he had to die protecting you and Eun-seo, if he had to make sure Beomgyu would also get out— then he would do it. But he wouldn’t kill someone who was why you had survived this far.
EUN-SEO’S SCREECHING CRIES woke you up before the classical music you had already grown tired of did. You were dragging yourself to your feet despite your blurry eyes, sighing softly as you picked her up and rocked her. Walking around and rocking her felt like a punishment to your foot, you could barely even move. Still, you didn’t have a choice. Even if your breath got sharper or your vision blurred with the pain that burst through you, you couldn’t die because your body was giving up. As she quieted down, more players began to rise. This was your last day here, you would leave today. Even if you didn’t, Eun-seo for sure would. You’d make sure of it.
“The final game will begin momentarily!”
The word ‘final’ made you almost burst into tears even if you didn’t know if you’d leave alive. The mere fact that you made it through all six days felt like a huge victory to your battered body and weary mind, it was fulfilling to know you made it so far.
In the silence routine you had all established, Beomgyu carried Eun-seo up the steps while Soobin carried you. It wasn’t much, but it spared you from any further agony.
This time, when you walked in the arena, it wasn’t something glamorous. It was far bigger than all of the other ones, but it was poorly made. The walls had dried and cracking paints that faltered and stopped in places as if the room was left halfway done, it reeked of rusted metal and dirty water, making your nose scrunch and wrinkle as Soobin set you down. At the center of the room, three shapes stood tall like towering buildings of cities. A square, then a triangle, and lastly a circle.
You pushed your fork further down your pocket, concealing it from view as you lagged behind close to Soobin. You didn’t expect to leave this game alive, but coming in terms with it was still terrifying.
"Can I have her?” You reached out for your daughter, Beomgyu hesitated as his eyes lingered on your ankle covered by the tailored black pants, but still untied the podaegi around his body and secured it on you.
“Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe.” He whispered, features softening as he watched you hold the back of your daughter’s head.
“Let’s go.” Soobin ushered, still slightly tense from yesterday—but just because he hadn’t acted on what Taehyun asked him to do, he still had the knife hidden. Just in case. It was nice to have some sort of advantage, it increased his chances of winning with the people he wanted to win with.
The doors of the rusty elevator shut with a loud noise, trapping all of you inside as it jolted, moving upwards slowly. You nearly lost your balance, knees bent far too much as you attempted to keep your balance. The smell was far worse here, stronger when you were cramped in a small elevating platform. It wasn’t a long ride by any means, even though you wish it was. Soon, you were on top of the yellow square figure, high enough in the air that the fall would kill you from bleeding out but would make you suffer before you died.
“A warm welcome to all of you for joining the final game! The final game is called the Sky Squid Game. Here are the rules of the game: players will play on the square, triangle, and circle towers. You will play a pushing game on these three pillars, the first round will be played on the square where you’re currently at. If you push one or more players off the tower while they are still alive, all remaining players will move on to the triangle tower for the next round. Likewise, if you eliminate one or more players on the triangle tower in the second round, you will move on to the circle tower. The same applies to the circle tower, if you push one or more players off, everyone on the tower will be the final winners. Please keep in mind that if you do not eliminate anyone within the time limit, everyone on the tower will be eliminated.”
You felt small under the scrutiny of the stare of the unified players, malice shot straight at you like you were prey. Still, you fixed your posture straighter as much as your body could manage, hid your fractured ankle behind your other one, and met them head on. You held Eun-seo tight, hidden partially from the men who crept closer by Soobin’s frame and Beomgyu’s one that pressed his arm to Soobin’s shoulder. You took one final glance at the height beneath you, making your breath catch. You never have been particularly afraid of heights, but since hearing so many skulls crack against the grounds and moans echo from the last game as players fell, heights made your stomach tie in knots.
You glanced over at player 089, he was the only one who had changed his mind about going on with the games. He wasn’t in the alliance of the players that came together in a circle, moreover, he was shaking like a leaf. But that was on him, you couldn’t stop for a second to worry about someone else when your own life was at stake.
“Who do you think they’ll try to attack first?” Beomgyu mumbled, fists raised even though nobody was lunging towards your direction. “Turns out we’re not the only target they have.”
“We’re in a larger group, wanting it or not. Player 089 is alone, I think they’ll eliminate him first.” Soobin shoved one of his hands inside of his pocket, already tight on the handle of the knife Taehyun had given him the night before. “It makes it easier for us.”
“I think he’s hallucinating, either that or he’s too scared.” Your brows pinched together, sparing the guy another glance. He was kicking air, sweat dripping down his neck. Even if it was quiet, from where you stood you could catch the quiet pleas that left his lips when carried by the air. “Then they’ll just try to kill me and Eun-seo.”
“Please press the red button on the floor to start the game!”
At the beep of the button, your eyes locked with the timer that counted down from fifteen. These games built you from the beginning up to now to hone all of you to the point of animals, thirsty for more money and full of bloodlust. It wasn’t a surprise they gave you such a short time.
“They can try, but it won’t happen.” This time, Soobin didn’t look at you while saying that. It made something grip your heart, something almost like impending grief mixing with helplessness. If Soobin wanted to go and jump off, you would be powerless to stop him. It was why you would have to count on Beomgyu to hold him back from doing so. “We have to kill them before they try to kill one of us.”
So instead of looking at Soobin, you looked at Sunghoon. He was in the alliance, standing strong held by a pact that was only up because of the thirst for more money than they could shove inside their pockets. “We should keep it democratic, it makes it easier for us to point out who we think should be eliminated and then vote on it afterwards.”
“He certainly sounds very educated, don’t you think? Maybe it was a good idea to have a young man with our old selves. They’re always more agile and eager.” Player 229 laughed, swatting at his thigh. Sunghoon didn’t acknowledge it, pursed lips as his head bowed slightly in recognition. This union was temporary, being smart meant you only made a pact when you needed something from it, but also meant slipping out of it as soon as things went south.
“Alright, then since we have a lot of time, we should probably start by nominating the ones we think should be eliminated.” Player 155–the manic one with the smile you detested, crossed his arms. He was quick to look at you up and down, not at all impressed by how you met his gaze head on. If anything, you looked more like all bark and no bite rather than bite.
It was between you, Eun-seo, and player 089.
They turned towards you first, not him.
“I think it’s only fair we eliminate player 454 first, especially since we all agree that it’s unfair the actual player 454 died and she took his place, and on top of that, her mother has a bruised ankle and won’t be able to care for her properly like this. We can separate them from the two guys and push them off one by one.”
You found that either they were completely stupid, or they didn’t care about you hearing their plans anymore. You were ready to pull out your fork and attack at any given moment, but they were still on talking terms, so you could only stand and listen.
“Wait– no.” Sunghoon interrupted carefully, a fake facade of worry plastering his face. What the hell was he doing?
“If the games have to be played in rounds, then we should make it through the first round by killing the easier bait since it will be harder to separate the baby from player 434, we should kill the junkie first.” His body gave way to player 089, not much older than you and chubby cheeked as tears streamed down for no apparent reason at all. “If we all want to survive, we have to play it smart.”
The exact moment all of them looked at the man, his body started to shake way more visibly. He stumbled backwards, but there was no use to it. He wasn’t the strongest physically, you would feel bad if you didn’t feel relief. It was the only thing you felt bad about–being relieved because someone else was going to die instead of you.
“Wait–wait, no. Please, let’s talk about this.” He stuttered, hands in front of him as he broke into tears, feet already nearing the edge. They probably wouldn’t even push him off, there was a high chance of him falling off before anyone even touched, especially because of his withdrawals that were wrecking him hard.
“I know, I know. But just make it easier for us and jump.” The fake care in the voice of one of the old men made you grimace, if they were going to kill, why sugarcoat it? There was no point in it aside from making the cornered guy more frightened.
“I was just scared, please. I’m so scared, I don’t want to die.” He whimpered, hands shaky as he rubbed his face, practically drenched in sweat.
“You’ll have to push him off.” Player 229 ushered, tapping the shoulder of anyone in the union they formed that he could reach. They all turned towards 155. Tougher, clearly the most physically strong member. He visibly swallowed hard, the lump that had formed in his throat now forced downwards.
Being too overconfident was never good in games such as this.
“Fine.” He stepped forward, chest puffed outwards to belittle the other. It happened in a flash when the tie of his suit was grabbed full of anger, but a deep satisfaction beneath it all.
“FUCK YOU, ALL OF YOU!” His voice echoed in the room, struggling against the broader player. “You want to push me off, huh?” He puffed out breathlessly, crazed eyes meeting the other’s. The roles quickly switched, fear flashed with anger in the eyes of the struggling man against the doe eyed, seemingly harmless player. Grunts left the pair as sounds of struggle mixed with them, but the players in the union just stepped backwards. “I”ll show you that you were all fucking barking up the wrong tree!”
An union was futile when everyone would be ready to bolt when things went badly. With a burst of strength, player 155 managed to push the other away from him until he stumbled back from him. The first instincts were to bolt from the edge after accomplishing his task, go back to his union to focus on who to kill next. But player 089 refused to go down alone, grabbing the bottom of the man’s pant leg before he fell. Dragging him downwards.
It was a horrid sight. Your face scrunched up as blood spurted from player 155’s nose as he slammed face first in the ground. Faintly in the background, a skull cracked loudly, but you couldn’t get a visual of the body, nor did you want to. Blood left his nose like a fountain, spreading everywhere as it dripped down his mouth. Some of his teeth flew outwards, the pain too great for him to even have a grip at the edge. You let out a breath you weren’t aware you had been lacking when another series of bones snapped hitting the ground–sounding almost like firecrackers. Then, with a final sound of gurgling blood the man choked on, his body went still, existence now completely wiped from this world.
“Player 089, eliminated!”
“Player 155, eliminated!”
You weren’t the only one freaking out, as a matter of fact, the unified players were freaking out more than you. You didn’t linger when they started to talk amongst themselves, you focused on the small metal platform extending between the distance of the triangle building to the circular one. “Look,” You pointed, limping forwards until you could manage to have a solid grip on Soobin’s arm. “We should go, if we stay behind and go last, they’ll probably try to push us off.”
“Union my ass, they’re just there because they want to kill easier targets.” Beomgyu scoffed, crossing the bridge with one more speckle of hope. Maybe surviving wouldn’t be so hard when this so-called union was already crumbling. “If we can badly wound one of them, wouldn’t it just make them easier to kill one by one?”
“But the problem is they won’t let go of the idea of killing easier targets, we can’t keep them away but also attack at the same time.” Glances were exchanged amongst you, hesitantly, you pulled out your fork. It wasn’t an ideal weapon, but considering no one else had a weapon, it was enough to create damage. Also taking into account you could barely hold yourself up to protect yourself, anyone who came close could be stabbed.
“Do what you have to do, I can manage myself.” You nodded towards the group that had already crossed the bridge, now uniting around the metal pole of the second tower to discuss in hushed whispers for once.
Beomgyu’s eyes went wide at the sight of the fork, but he couldn’t resist the smile. “Holy shit, you actually managed to sneak this in? Where the hell did you get this from?
“The kimbap.” Soobin recalled, he hadn’t taken his. When he came back after the game the night after the forks were handed out, the bunks were already mostly cleared out, and his fork was gone. “The one from a few nights ago, right?”
“It was still stuffed under my pillow, a weapon even if it’s small is better than none.” Despite the rising hope, your attention was snapped back upon the sound of the beeping timer. You shouldn’t have underestimated this union, those thoughts of them being easy to break apart dissolved like snow as you examined the neatly tied knots from the sleeves of the jackets tied around their waists. They tied themselves together and unscrewed the metal pole from the middle, aiming it towards you.
“This doesn’t have to be hard.” Player 100 raised his hands in a peaceful manner, but his intentions were far from it. “Just tie the baby to the pole and jump off, we don’t have to make a big deal out of this.”
“Go to hell!” You spat, limping backwards until you couldn’t anymore. For further protection, even if Eun-seo cried, you zipped the remaining space that you hadn’t yet to cover her head. If you fell alongside her within the platform, then she wouldn’t slip out. “I’m not giving you my baby.”
“Do you not realize how sick this is? You don’t even have that much time left to live, why kill a baby?!” Soobin’s complaint deepened the scowls and frustrated noises from the group. They didn’t want to die, at least not here. “Do you realize how bad that makes you look? Don’t you feel bad?”
“That baby can’t even think! It won’t ever know that it once existed if it can’t regain consciousness!”
“If you want them both, then fight us for them.” Beomgyu challenged, coiled to fight even though the massive metal pole left him at a disadvantage. In a split second decision, they hurled forward in blending shouts. You were moving away from the three men, keeping Eun-seo as close as you could as you limped your way away from the mess, trying to not get caught up on it.
Chaos burst through the not too wide platform, Soobin whipped out the blade Taehyun had given him, ducking underneath the striking pole that was aimed towards his head. Beomgyu went for the other end as the group moved facing separate sides, while also turning horizontally. The ones turned towards your way attempting to reach out for you. A scream of pain followed by flesh tearing open pierced the air, blood staining the metal knife as the pole swung clumsily towards Soobin once again, this time downwards. It closely brushed his shoulder, leaving a faint throb in a part of his skin that could have ended up being greater damage, but he managed to push himself off of his knees and stand up before it could have harmed him further.
“Grab the bitch already!” One of the men snarled, pulling Beomgyu in the round of players and tumbling him to the ground.
“I’ll fucking kill you if—” breath was stolen from his lungs, Beomgyu stopped speaking to focus on protecting his face from the kicks being landed on his face.
“Just kill him and take her already!” A frustrated, angry cry left another one of them, the one that was attempting and making feeble attempts at striking Soobin. One wrong twist of the pole scraped against the ground, and Soobin lunged forward with the blade, pushing his own chest forward until his body hit heavily against player 100’s own. The other could barely walk due to the open stab on his thigh, knees weakened, but refusal to die was holding him upwards. You forced yourself as away from the commotion as you could, even if deep down you wanted to go help. You would be more of a liability than of help.
“Fuck, let me go!” The man screamed in panic, but soon stopped begging as Soobin dove the knife onto his back. Blood left his mouth and dirtied the once pristine white shirt, seeping down his hands as he pulled it out to cut through the tied jackets. He didn’t kill the older man, no. With gritted teeth, he stabbed the man one last time so he would go pliant but not quite dead, only to force him off of the edge. He didn’t scream, couldn’t when he was already in so much pain. The only indicating sign he had died was the announcer through the speakers saying he had been eliminated, since the loud splat of his body against the ground was barely audible through the fighting players.
Beomgyu was being stomped on, the left over player that was alongside Sunghoon dropped to his knees to land solid punches on his face after prying Beomgyu’s arms away from it.
“This could have been easier,” each word was punctuated with a punch, bruises formed along Beomgyu’s once fair skin, sounds of struggle leaving his lips as his body jerked around. The constricting hand on his throat made Beomgyu sound almost like a pained animal, it physically hurt to watch. But as you limped forward, Soobin shook his head. His lips mouthing ‘Stay back.’
He was tumbling over towards the two guys already, an attempt to get them off of him proved futile as the jackets untied, Sunghoon pushed the player who had been too focused on making Beomgyu’s face fill with more of his own blood, using him as a shield to save himself from the tip of the knife that pierced the other’s neck with a roar of pain that followed.
“You son of a bitch—I hope he kills you next!” The man cursed despite all of his pain, slumping forwards after the knife plunged into his back one final, fourth time.
Sunghoon used his feet to push the now dead body towards Soobin, making him stumble backwards as the body was shoved towards him. Soobin stumbled back, arms swinging next to his sides to refrain from losing his balance. Once he regained his footing, he prepared to take one more lunge forwards, but halted before he even could raise his blade.
Beomgyu’s face was slowly turning purple from the lack of air, once confident punches becoming weak bumps of his fist against Sunghoon’s arm, a laughter cruel and confident all at once, keeping Beomgyu stuck in a headlock. “Come any closer and I’ll snap his neck. Put the blade down.”
Soobin glanced at you, then down at Beomgyu who was looking at him with tears already gathering in his eyes. Even if he didn’t step forward, he would for sure asphyxiate him. “Then let go of him.” Soobin swallowed, raising his hands to the air in a placating gesture.
“I said put the fucking knife down!” Sunghoon yelled, whipping his head to the side to push his bangs from his face. “Put it down or I’ll make sure all three of them die.”
The blade clattered to the ground, clanging in three lingering sounds in front of Soobin, who was trying his best to seem unharming.
“Kick it away from you.”
“What do you get from doing this? If you want to win, then I’ll jump off the next round. Just let them go.” A crack was eminent in his voice, genuine. Almost as powerless as you were.
“Playing the hero again, huh? Is her taste in men focused on men who try to play the hero? You’re only a pussy at the end of the day.” Sunghoon snorted, insults thrown carelessly, he had the upper hand. “You should’ve died. I should’ve killed you the second I got the chance to. But I didn’t.” A pause, bitterness fluctuating from both sides, just from different power balances. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll kill you now.”
Amongst the conflict with Soobin and Sunghoon, you could manage out Beomgyu’s purple face and weakening body. You had to do something, he would die if you didn’t. All of your thoughts seemed to lead to that single urge to save. Quickly, as silently as you could manage, you undid the knots that held Eun-seo close to your chest. You gave her a kiss to the forehead through the fabric, shakily setting her down.
Each shaky limp of yours lurking towards Sunghoon and Beomgyu made your heart miss a beat, you were holding your breath so tight you swore you could almost understand each squeeze of air being stopped from reaching Beomgyu’s lungs. The path was longer than necessary, teeth biting through the flesh of your teeth until the area became numb. All of you willpower singlehandedly focusing on making it through. You raised the fork, pointy teeth ready to strike the second you got the chance to.
“You’ll never see her again. You hear me?! You should’ve never met her in the first plac—”
A cry, mixed with so much anger and resentment you built up for months crawled its way out from the back of your throat. You lost your footing, knees hitting the ground with an impact that made you nearly double over. The fork pierced clean through Sunghoon’s skin, next to his neck as blood started to pool out of the wound. His words were cut, his grip on Beomgyu loosening as the other finally gulped for air, the color finally returning to his bloodied and battered face, breathing through wheezes of air and blood flooding to his nose, soaking his mouth.
“Go to hell.” You rasped, meeting Sunghoon’s eyes as he whirled around to stop you from striking again. “You bitch—” he hissed.
You didn’t stop, instead, you pushed the fork towards the center of his neck, blood drenching your face in sprays as you forced your eyes shut as strongly as you pushed the knife in. “I hope you rot in the depths of hell, Sunghoon.”
“Player 333, eliminated!”
Finally exhausting itself to the brink, you allowed yourself to slump backwards. Sunghoon’s body didn’t fall with you, it was pulled and tossed to the side like a heavy weight by Soobin’s hands. “Are you okay?”
“Beomgyu.” You forced your voice out through the haze of exhaustion, attempting to sit upwards. “Beomgyu— check on him first. I’m fine.”
You faintly made out the exchange between them, the pain throbbing through your whole body was almost numbing, pushed to the very last nerve until it couldn’t move anymore. Your head lolled to the side, catching Beomgyu’s bloodied face and split mouth into view. The timer beeping signaled the second round ending, Eun-seo’s cries filling the air soon after.
“Can you walk?” Soobin slid his jacket off, wiping Beomgyu’s face as carefully as he could manage. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“I can walk, yeah.” Beomgyu’s nods were quick jerks of his head, followed by the whirl of the extended metal platform towards the last tower. Eun-seo crying finally reminded him of you— the reason why he didn’t get choked to death in the first place. “The baby—Y/N, are they okay?”
“They’re fine. We have to go now, come on.”
You had never been a big fan of goodbyes. Some goodbyes arrived painfully and bittersweet, just when you had finally gotten comfortable with the presence of someone in your life. Goodbyes meant you would see them again someday, or they meant that the person would be nothing but a faint memory of a face that would blur over as the years passed. You crossed it over to the last tower, but neither of you fought. Your bodies brushed together as you sat down, pressing the red button as it counted down from ten now. The instructions offered by the woman in the speakers was ignored, gibberish all of you had enough listening to.
“When I first survived,” Beomgyu began, breaking the silence as the time ticked. “I thought of myself as invincible. I arrived here with Kai, I wondered how hard this could really be. Even with everyone dying, I thought that—” His voice faltered, you didn’t even need to look at Beomgyu to recognize he was crying for the last time. “I thought that maybe I would leave unscathed.”
“But you’re still here, you made it, Beomgyu.” Soobin comforted, but he didn’t sound so convincing. It was down to the four of you, one of you would have to die. “We’re all here.”
“Don’t do this.” You shook your head, grieving before Beomgyu even moved to do anything. There was something extra painful about this goodbye, something that ached and burned like fire, spreading like a fever. There was a reason why you initially thought of this place as one of the depths of hell.
“I’ll go, you have a lot to accomplish, Beomgyu.” Soobin finally breathed out, standing, only to be pulled back down.
“No.” Beomgyu swallowed down his own tears, forcing one of his boyish smiles that had become his trademark at the beginning of the games. He wanted to go like Yeonjun did, with a smile. With peace and fulfillment. The money would bring him comfort if he won, but no money would be worth how much the deaths would torment him on a daily basis. “You have a baby. A daughter, Soobin.” He shakily pointed towards Eun-seo, shuffling to stand. “Get out of here, take good care of them. You’ll be an amazing father, we’ve all seen it.” A laughter left him, happy and carefree for once. “I want to go by my own terms. I want to see Kai and Yeonjun again, hell, even Taehyun.”
Soobin never told Beomgyu that Taehyun was standing behind the spectator glass inches above them, watching the solemn departure. Later on, he would wish he had. But the peacefulness and happiness in Beomgyu’s face was too much to be disturbed. So Soobin never shook away the illusion of Taehyun being dead.
“Beomgyu, please.” You kept jerking your head, refusing to accept it even if you knew this would mean all of you dying the second the timer struck zero. As selfish as it was, you couldn’t find it in you to let go of him.
“I’ll be fine.” Beomgyu raised his pinky finger towards you—a promise. Your chest burned, shaky hands raising to wrap your pinky around his. “Live well, enjoy your daughter. Forget this ever happened. And when the world finally becomes gray and you don’t see it again anymore, I promise I’ll be the first one to greet you on the other side.”
There was nothing graceful about the way Beomgyu stepped away from you and Soobin, nothing soothing about Soobin shaking as he held you tighter. For the last time, you flinched. The sound of Beomgyu’s body hitting the ground marked the end of the games, sacrificing himself for strangers that became his family despite being the one that wanted to live the most.
“Player 120, eliminated!”
“Player 434, pass.”
“Player 374, pass.”
“Player 454, pass.”
This feminine robotic voice would forever haunt you in your dreams and nightmares, just as the smiles of your once friends would.
THE FIRST RAYS OF SUNLIGHT seeped from the curtains. Morning announced itself and woke you without the need of a timer, you didn’t need those anymore. Your days were mostly spent without chasing around the clock, you didn’t have to worry about bills as much, or about being chased down by men who wanted your money in the shape of your lungs. You stretched languidly, slipping off of the warmth of the bed to let your feet carry you towards the expanse of the kitchen, the soft sounds of the waves crashing against the nearby rocks, a soothing rhythm as the kitchen filled with sizzling sounds and the soft smell of neatly arranged breakfast.
You had never forgotten the games, it would be impossible. The memories would follow everywhere, sometimes they would overwhelm you and corner you in the darkest of nights, but they didn’t bring only bad memories. You fidgeted with the golden band around your ring, a smile as soft as the atmosphere around you at the memory of your wedding.
There weren’t many people, it was just family. Soobin’s mother managed to make it after he paid for her treatment, she was basically thrilled to finally have a daughter in law. She weeped and thanked you as if you had done her a favor once she learned Eun-seo’s name, which, speaking of, ended up being spoiled endlessly since the woman landed eyes on her. The front row chairs of your wedding held pictures you and Soobin fished out from the depths of the internet, three pictures of your once friends. A curt white veil was hung over the pictures in respect, their presence still there as you sealed until death do us apart with your lips against Soobin’s just a year after the games ended and everything clicked back into place.
You were pulled out of your reminiscence as warm lips met your cheek, arms wrapping around your body loosely as Soobin pressed himself against your back in a raspy voice he spoke in every morning. “You’re up early.”
“One of us has to make breakfast, Soob.” You chuckled, leaning back against his embrace despite your teasing. He still held you like you were the most precious thing in the world, still treated Eun-seo like she truly was his. Because in his eyes, she was. Warm hands slid down your body, settling above the barely formed bump. You had the surprise of being pregnant again three years later, and you had actually managed to enjoy pregnancy. Now, you truly understood why so many women said pregnancy is so enjoyable.
“And how is she?” He nuzzled against your neck, pressing a kiss to your warm skin that still had the lingering smell of the vanilla scent you liked from a body splash you favored.
“How are you so sure it’s a girl?” Your brows pinched together curiously, his lips warm against yours in a peck, barely a kiss.
“Fatherly instincts.” He grinned, reaching his eyes who became crescents, the dimples of his cheeks showing.
“Daddy! I can’t turn off my sleeping lamp!” Your four year old daughter called from her room, almost as if she had been summoned by the conversation. “Come quickly, it’s a big big emergency!”
“Well, that’s my cue.” Soobin left after another lingering kiss, leaving you alone to finish scrambling and salting the eggs on the pan.
Despite the fact most of your life was spent asleep, forcing yourself to be numb, you and Soobin managed to heal each other in your own ways. Once, you believed that the idea that love heals is dumb, but only because you never witnessed it or felt it. But Soobin’s love was so strong it made you feel weak sometimes.
Some things were ephemeral, like the presence of the friends you made—the friends you met back at the game that you wished were now in Jeju island with you, sharing a meal like you promised years ago. But some things weren’t, some things like until death does us apart really were forever. And even if they weren’t, being Soobin’s—Ephemerally his, didn’t sound quite so bad.
͟✿֔ ͟ຼ ꯭ ░ ׄ there’s nothing to keep you from falling in love
──── ၇͜ᩘ 𔒌 ﹔ posting after so long.. hi guys! are we even surprised? anyway, this is a reupload, i lost full access to my main!! TT.. anyway, all new ffs will be uploaded here, as well as old. :)
ᦔ◟ ͜ ◞ও 𝐓 𝐀 𝐆 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓 . 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓂 ◠ @soullesslien @buttersoob @dawngyu
EPHEMERALLY YOURS ı 𝓞𝟐 ⧽ i could be a good mother, and i want to be your wife
──── ၇͜ᩘ 𔒌 ﹔ pairing — player!csb x pregnant!reader
SYNOPSIS ⧽ you were alone. alone and pregnant, no parents or friends to support you. whoever the father of your baby was, he wouldn’t bother to be in your life. with no money or a place to stay anymore, you’re faced with an opportunity to get the money you need. now, despite being surrounded by death, you meet a man who manages to make moments in a horrifying place something warm and tender.
WARNINGS squid game (two and three) au, reader is lightly based on junhee, but the plot that happens to her doesn’t actually happen to reader. ANGST, major character death, injuries, descriptive gore and harsh language, mentions of drugs, near death experiences, soobin being extremely loving since day one, hostile!reader (in a way), comfort/fluff, panic attacks, childbirth, falling in love/romance, death in general (it’s squid game c’mon..), ocs, horror settings, follows the same game and some events of s2-3 but not necessarily the same plotline, child abandonment, miscarriages, mentions of illnesses and alcoholism, some idols are used as ocs and likely not accurate to their personalities, this is NOT fully focused on reader and soobin only it also explores the group dynamics so keep this in mind.
ᜆ wc ﹔ 34.2k
THE CEILING FAN ABOVE YOU felt like a joke, it whirled above you slowly, groaning as if it was dying— and in a way, it was. The four walls you found yourself spending most of your time in felt suffocating, not because of how cramped it was, at least not just because of that. But because you knew that sooner or later you would end up being evicted.
The thought of that made your stomach churn, a slight hint of panic seemed to claw at your throat before you swallowed the wave of nausea down. The sound of the fan was just a stark reminder that you were alone in this. Well, for the most part. Eyes glossy and tired from already crying, your hand found its way to the swell of your belly.
It was you and your baby girl alone. The due date was close, crippling close. You barely had money to pay for rent or food, let alone a hospital room. Everything felt too heavy to handle on your own, it wasn’t necessarily the future you planned out for yourself, but it was your reality. Reality was harsher than dreams, because it didn’t care about them.
You curled further into yourself, rubbing slow circles over the baby bump. She would be here soon, and you couldn’t even pick yourself up. Your stomach growled— eat for two, they said. You couldn’t exactly remember how much money you had in your wallet, it was barely enough. You thought about somehow saving the money for later, for when you were starving. But it seemed like you were already at your brink.
Despite the hazy vision you got from standing up, you pulled on the most decent clothes you could find to go out. Counted the money in your wallet, and decided it was enough to go to the convenience store who had seen you every month since you found out you were pregnant. It weighed heavy on your hand, maybe just as heavy as your heart. Eyes trailing towards the small coffee table standing immobile near the window, letters scattered and torn open above it. Eviction letters, old letters asking for you to pay rent.
You were alone. Truly alone.
A heavy sigh left your lips, it would be okay. You told yourself that even as the door clinked open in front of you and another letter waited in front of your door. You swallowed the lump in your throat, picked it up, and merely let your eyes scan over the words. You had around a week. Weakly, you tossed the letter back inside and shut it behind you. The rusted key turned in the lock, and you left after making sure everything was locked despite not having anything of valor inside.
The warm breeze outside enveloped you, sky hazy and flickering into the night. It had been a while since you stepped outside, your footsteps feeling sluggish and heavy. One arm securely rested above your stomach, all while you observed everyone here. People with closed off faces, students, friends laughing, couples sharing food in nearby places and even tourists. People you didn’t know, people whose story you had no idea of, but you couldn’t help but envy them.
It burned in your tongue, bitter and hard to swallow. It was something so simple for these people, to go out and eat and enjoy life. It was the smallest things that they took for granted that you wanted the smallest bit of. Either way, you had to move on with your life. You shook your head trying to dislodge the thoughts, you’d have to keep going one way or another. Better to do so without being bitter rather than mulling over what could’ve been.
Contrary to the warm breeze, the store felt a bit chillier once you stepped in. The place was familiar, barely had changed in the last nine months. Money held firmly in your hands, you scanned over the cheapest items you could find inside. The bell chiming a few minutes after you entered went by unnoticed, you were busy making calculations to see what was the cheapest thing you could get but also full of volume enough you’d feel full. It was a routine, strategic enough so you wouldn’t starve considering you had to eat for two.
Your eyes fell on the bento, it probably would fill you up. Yet, your eyes fell on the variety of items you held that would sum up to the value you had. It was either this or the bento. Despite the fact you had been craving porridge and turtle chips, amongst other things, you couldn’t be picky.
Your shoulders sagged, grabbing the bento box firmly as you walked towards each aisle to return the items. You were just about to put the packet of kimbap you managed to find back when you felt eyes burning into you.
You tense for a moment, heat rising to your cheeks. You had forgotten how embarrassing it was to not have the condition to buy foods that were so.. cheap. Sucking in a breath, you just put it back, hoping the stranger you hadn’t even looked at would stop staring at you.
You had self pity sometimes, but you refused to be pitied by people who didn’t even know you.
"Miss, wait." The voice— his voice rang out before you could walk to the register. You turned around, only to be met with a tall guy, definitely taller than average. He didn’t look harmful, rather, he had one of the prettiest eyes you have ever laid eyes upon before. Blonde hair, ruffled in all the right places, and dimples protruding his cheeks as he smiled. He looked sheepish as he approached, rubbing the back of his neck. "I noticed you putting these back, and really, I don’t mean to intrude. I saw you checking the money and.."
Your brows pressed together, jaw setting just slightly firmer. "Let me pay for you." He settled for instead, there it was— the thing you hated the most. You weren’t a charity case, hated feeling like it despite your situation. "I appreciate it, but I’m fine." You murmured, and yet his smile didn’t fall. Not even when you looked at him as if he was going to attempt something harmful.
"You’re pregnant." Your hold tightened around your stomach just slightly, opening your mouth to reply before he cut in right after. "So you should eat more. You’re eating for two, you need food." He insisted, eyes trailing to your swollen belly. "For your baby, yeah? You need to eat."
It was in moments like this that made you realize that the world wasn’t as evil as your mind thought it was when you looked at the negative sides. Wordlessly, you swallowed your pride and nodded. He didn’t say anything further, just walked to the self-checkout section of the store and scanned the items. Even the bento box you planned to pay yourself.
"I’ll pay for that, you don’t have to pay everything for me." Instead, he just shook his head and tapped his card against the machine. "Keep your money, you look like you need a reason to smile today." He said rather softly, careful.
"What do you want from me?" You asked suspiciously, your eyes hadn’t fully softened, not yet. "You want something, right? To be doing this. You can’t tell me you walked in here and just decided to do this out of the goodness of your heart because you felt bad."
His hands, careful and not rushed, paused at the bag he was placing the stuff he had just gotten you. You sucked in a breath, waiting. Something— he wanted something, you should’ve just denied his request and bought the stupid bento box and left. "Is it a boy or a girl?" He asked tentatively, resuming his task.
You didn’t know whether to feel puzzled, frustrated, or completely confused. "You’re avoiding my question." You replied instead.
"I’m not, really." The guy said calmly, the rustling of the bag being the only thing audible for the next few seconds that seemed to extend into eternity. "Just answer that for me. That’s what I want. And then I’ll leave you with the food and walk away and leave you alone. Sounds good?"
Your breath lodged inside your throat, you wanted to believe he was joking. But his eyes, so tender and caring, said otherwise. He was being honest. "It’s a girl." You finally said as you looked down at your shoes, worn out and dirty from how much you wore them for the past few months. "A girl." He clicked his tongue, laughter hushed under his breath. "Congratulations, then."
Appearing in your vision, the bag was being offered to you. The foods you craved and the bento box you were meant to pay for. The only thing you were meant to eat. Your chest twisted, the tears stung but never quite fell. It felt good to be cared for after months of dealing with your life alone, even if this guy was a complete stranger who looked like he was having a good day. "Take care of yourself and your baby, and eat a lot. You look like you need it." You grasped the bag, and like he promised, he left wordlessly.
You were left standing there for minutes that felt like nothing. Just a heavy, thankful heart, and teary eyes.
You hadn’t even noticed the man who you didn’t quite catch the name of didn’t get anything to eat, or the way he left behind the food he was getting for himself. However, you did feel thankful. Biting your lip to force the tears down in a silent thank you that left way too late.
The image of those eyes that looked like the brown edge of burnt paper, the gentle grin, and the dimples crafted onto his cheeks seared into your mind. You didn’t have a name, but you had the face in mind.
IT HAD BEEN MAYBE half an hour or so since you had left that convenience store, the bag swayed back and forth in your hands as you took a bite of the Kimbap that man had gotten for you. The streets hadn’t quieted down, they seemed more lively now. It was Friday, most college students would be out clubbing and others would be out hanging out with friends.
It was something all too familiar. You used to club and have fun just like them, seeing students despite not being all that old never stopped the nostalgia from crashing onto you like a wave. Yet, you didn’t have a reason to feel bitter. Not when you were filling your stomach with food thanks to a complete stranger.
You wondered if maybe he wasn’t an angel sent to help you, or if maybe you would see him again and catch his name. If you made it through the last month of pregnancy, maybe you’d bump into him again inside that same convenience store with your baby girl. People like him made life feel a bit more bearable day by day.
Your feet carried you wherever your eyes landed, not feeling like going home yet. "We’ll make it through, you and me." You murmured to the baby growing inside your belly, maybe her father wasn’t here, but you would make sure she never felt alone. "I’ll find a way. Whatever it takes, you’ll be the happiest baby girl in the world. I’ll make sure you won’t have to worry about anything." You smiled, eyes crinkling at the corner.
You were terrified. God, you were terrified beyond belief. You didn’t have help, and had to go through all of this alone. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have your baby girl wrapped in a bundle and placed in your arms. Perhaps then nothing else would matter.
The moment, as tender as it felt, didn’t last much. Not when someone sat next to you, wordlessly at first. He didn’t shift, didn’t move. Until you felt his eyes staring right through you. You swallowed hard, momentarily holding the Kimbap lower. "Can I help you with anything?" You asked tentatively.
"Lovely night, isn’t it?" The man asked, you finally took a closer look at him. Crisp suit, hair set back almost perfectly. He carried a suitcase in hands, carrying himself with confidence. He almost looked like a church missionary.. but he smelled too expensive for that, at least for the people around the area. "Yeah." You replied with a hum, not giving it much thought but staying alert. "I don’t want to buy anything." You settled from the start.
Oh, but you’d get so much more than that.
"I haven’t even said anything." The man chuckled, low and sultry in a way something you couldn’t pinpoint crawled up your spine. In the back of your head, you knew you should leave. Just stand up, walk away. But for some reason, you stayed. "Don’t jump to conclusions, I just want to help."
You wondered just what was with people and trying to help you, nevertheless, you lifted one eyebrow. "How do you know whether I need help or not? I’m just another person sitting at a park bench, eating my food."
"From a convenience store. Your shoes also speak volumes about you, miss. Not that I intend to be offensive." The man replied as he straightened up, shifting his body towards you. "I don’t need help, I’m okay." You swallowed down the feeling of something feeling off about this man, tucking the now neatly folded inside its own package Kimbap inside the plastic bag in order to stand up.
The man opened his suitcase before you could even stand up. Your eyes fixated on the two cards within, and the money. Holy shit, that was a lot of money. "I want to play a game, if you will lend me some of your time." His eyes raked over you, smile broadening in a way you shifted awkwardly.
"There has to be a catch." You let out after a couple of seconds, eyes flickering from the suitcase to his face. "No catches at all." The man insisted, grabbing two cards and standing up. "Have you ever played ddakji?"
You were familiar with the game, but you weren’t the best, quite frankly. You used to play ddakji with your siblings when you were younger, but you’d always lose. Typically, you liked to play gonggi. It was the one game you knew you could beat them in, leaving you feeling triumphant. "Yes, I have."
Wordlessly, the man offered the two cards. Between red and blue, you picked the blue one. "Let’s make it so every time you manage to flip my paper over, I’ll give you 100,000 won. But if I win and flip yours, you give me 100,000."
You swallowed dry, remembering the money in your pocket. You didn’t have a hundred thousand won— you had ten thousand. And yet, you found yourself nodding. Desperation does things to people. "Okay, let’s do it."
You went first, gripping the blue ddakji tight in your hands as you sucked in a deep breath. Then, you slammed it down with all your might.
It didn’t even budge. Your heart dropped to your stomach and tied in knots. The man, however, looked satisfied. Picking up his own ddakji and slamming it over yours, flipping it over with an ease that made you feel like you maybe, just maybe, got yourself into more debt. "I won." The man stated simply, extending his hand towards you. "The 100,000 Won, please."
"I.." you trailed off, looking down at the floor. Where the hell would you get a hundred thousand won when you could barely afford food at the convenience store?
"Don’t have it?" He questioned with a tinge of fake understanding, all before smiling. "Don’t worry. You can pay me in another way." Your head snapped upwards, feeling uneasy at the words. "You can pay me with your body."
You nearly threw up, seriously. Your eyes went wide, flickering between his now retreating hand and at that suitcase full of money. Greedy bastard. "My body?" You repeated, jaw setting tight. "How am I supposed to—"
The sting burnt on your cheek, head snapping to the side with the force of the slap in a way your ears rang. It took a minute for your brain to catch up with what the hell happened, a hand slowly coming up to your cheek to massage it before you managed to look at the man again. He was smiling. Eerie, odd. "Every time you lose, I slap you. Since you don’t have the money, isn’t it only fair for me to slap you? Unless you want to stop playing."
Better than what you were dreading at first.
Whatever. You needed the money.
"Let’s go again." You decided, eyes hardening— determined. You knew how bad you were at ddakji, but no amount of lack of skill would push away the fact it was a hundred thousand won. Yet, you said the same thing round after round until the rounds you took blurred. Your lip had already started bleeding, your cheek was extremely red by the end of it.
Nothing felt better than seeing your blue ddakji flip over his red one. A cheer left you, loud, unfiltered. Chest heaving as you grinned like you won the lottery. Which for the day, you had. You could afford food, it was a small win even if it wasn’t enough for rent.
"Good job." He clicked his tongue, kneeling down and carefully collecting the two cards of ddakji, setting it back inside the suitcase and closing it— but not before taking the money, folding it neatly, and handing it to you. You were overjoyed, smiling and staring at the simple bills made out of paper in your hands. "There’s way more money where this came from, call up if you’re interested, you have two weeks and we have fewer spots."
And that was the last thing he said to you before leaving. Your cheek still stung, your tongue licked over the cut that spilled blood, tangy and metallic. Way more money where this came from. Curiously, you flipped the money over, expecting this to be just some kind of joke. But then you saw it.
The card.
The material felt real, slightly rough beneath your fingertips as you examined. It didn’t have much details, it looked more like a business card.. suddenly the fact the man had been wearing a suit and carrying a suitcase made sense. Your thumb brushed over the circle, triangle, and square, then after tucking away the money inside your pocket, you flipped the business card over. The back was no more interesting, the design of a house inside a circle and eight numbers. His voice rang in your ears again.
“Call up if you’re interested.”
If there really was money here like he claimed, then this could only mean one thing. If you did manage to secure a spot, then you would be able to pay for rent and maybe even have some money to have a decent room to rest in when you give birth.
You didn’t hesitate anymore, pulling out your phone quickly and typing in the numbers. You held your breath as you brought your phone to your ear. The line rang once, twice. On the third ring, it connected. The voice was automated, not a real person behind it. "Please state your name and year of birth."
"Y/N L/N, 2001." You replied, looking around the now empty park as you waited for a response.
That would be one of the last normal moments you had before hell started.
THE SOUND OF CLASSICAL MUSIC rang loudly in your ears, you groaned as you sat up. Your brain felt foggy, your vision turve. You didn’t have records of falling asleep during the car trip, you just remembered knocking out.. that’s right. You entered a random car at night with random people, just what the hell were you thinking?
As your vision slowly cleared out, you observed your surroundings. The room was fairly big, bunk beds everywhere. Well, more like people everywhere. You looked at the unfamiliar faces, some were old, some around your age. You couldn’t really tell what was happening, some were already chattering, but the majority of people were gathering at the bottom of the bunk beds and standing in what looked like a lobby.
Next, you noticed how everyone was wearing the same thing. A uniform with a number assigned with it, you were no different. You didn’t have your phone, you didn’t have anything. Your brows pressed together as you saw your number— player 434. Trailing your eyes over for more context, you just noticed drawings by the walls that were covered by the beds. Unsure what that meant, you gave up on watching and decided to go down to the pit of people despite feeling uneasy.
The chatter was loud, you could hear some people arguing from time to time, most of them were talking about owing money to one another. Was this for people in debt? In need? That’s what it looked like. But most people looked confused, and since you didn’t know many people, you stuck by the railing of one of the beds, watching over quietly.
You didn’t have to wait much before the doors that had been shut, keeping everyone in, opened. Men in pink uniforms and masks with the three symbols you saw on the card where you found the number you dialed walked in. Circles were holding guns, your eyes widened— but you stayed calm. They didn’t look like they would start shooting out of the blue. But the guns were definitely not doing much to calm down your heart, that had already picked up the pace slightly.
The guy with the square mask stepped up in the middle, eyeing the gathered players before starting in a firm, controlled voice. "I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you." He stated politely, well, you guessed it was a guy. But dislodged the thought when you realized the person could have been wearing some sort of voice changer. "Everyone here will participate in six different games over the course of six days, those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize."
"Excuse me," the voice of a woman in the pit called out, raising her hand. "You said I’d be playing games but you practically kidnapped me. How can I be so sure you want us to just play games?" She looked skeptical, and really, you couldn’t blame her. You had no previous memories of even arriving here.
"I apologize, but please understand that it was necessary to do what we did to maintain the security of the games and the players." The guard replied steadily, you settled for that because they looked like they.. ran this. Somewhat, at least. "Then why the masks?" Another voice called out, you couldn’t see who. Too many people were in the same place, you were surprised everyone was so silent. "Are your faces also a secret?"
"Yeah, why are you hiding your faces?" A man questioned, everyone looked suspicious. It was only fair to react like this, everyone here was literally kidnapped. "Is this some kind of illegal gambling house? We don’t have money! Even the dealers wouldn’t hide their faces in these kinds of places!" Slowly, voices started to rise in agreement, some questioning. You pursed your lips together, waiting for an answer, anything that would make this make sense.
"To ensure that we will have a fair gameplay and keep confidentiality, it’s in our policy to not reveal who we are nor our faces. Please understand that."
"What about our phones?" You heard a familiar voice call out, you couldn’t pinpoint from where, but it didn’t sound like it was from a complete stranger. "Why did you take my phone and wallet? Can’t we keep them?"
"We’re keeping your belongings safe, they will be returned in six days once the games are over." The guard said despite the groans filling the room, you didn’t feel much pleased about this either. It felt like you were being kept in confinement. "What about our families? What if they call us? Won’t they be worried about us?"
"Player 374, Choi Soobin." The guard suddenly called out, turning over to the television that hung above the arch of the platform the guards were standing altogether. A video flickered to live, a piece of.. ddakji slamming on top of another. That’s when realization settled in, you were being recorded while playing against that businessman. You clenched your fists, but didn’t speak up, not yet. "Age 25, used to work under a wealthy company before it completely failed. After your mother succumbed to illness, you fell into debt towards not only the hospital in which she is in at the moment, but also fell into debt to loan sharks. You’re being constantly searched by them. Current debt levels stand at nine million five hundred thousand won after four years."
You watched as the screen showed the man being slapped— so that’s where you knew him from. It was the same guy from the convenience store, now appearing on screen being slapped by who you assumed was the same man who you played with. Your stomach dropped, nine million five hundred thousand won worth of debt. All because of treatments. Had you known he was in a worse spot than you, you would’ve offered him your ten thousand won at the convenience store that night. You couldn’t help the slight guilt that settled on your gut.
The square guard kept going. "Player 127, Lee Heesung. 45 Million won in debt. Player 120, Choi Beomgyu. 330 Million won in debt." Your face fell as each person got named for their debts, lips pressing in a tight line. You thought you had it bad, but these people were in another level of bad. They kept raking up to millions until reaching the billions, leaving you to wonder how do people get this bad.
The final player was the one that baffled you, and everyone else too, at last. "Player 34, Kim Woo-young. Ten billion won in debt."
You couldn’t help but look around, trying to find the guy. Standing on the tip of your toes, you still couldn’t find him, you didn’t bother looking anymore when the player himself announced who he was in a prideful voice. You could tell most of these people were crazy for money.
Your mind still flickered over to the guy, you knew his name now. Choi Soobin. Same round eyes, same dimpled smile, same blonde, ruffled hair. Staring a little further past some people in the front, you could spot his head, staring straight ahead. "When we first came to you, you didn’t trust us. But as you know, we played a game. And we gave you the money as promised. And so you trusted us and volunteered to participate in the games out of your own free will. You have one last chance to decide if you want to go back to living in a life where you’re seen like a pig by loan sharks, or if you will take the opportunity we’re giving you."
Despite the murmurs of distrust, people still formed lines to sign to agreement. You avoided touching your belly too much, you didn’t know what the games were but you were sure you didn’t trust most of these people. Your feet moved slowly, signing your name in the consent clause, however you paused to read the three things in it. You weren’t sure why, but you memorized them. Maybe this would be useful. Only really moving when someone shoved your shoulder aside and shouted at you to move.
Yeah, you definitely did not trust anyone here. Especially the ones who looked like they would do anything to win. You tried to look for Soobin instead, amongst all of the players, it would be hard. You wondered how many people were in here, maybe more than three hundred for sure. If you couldn’t find him before the first game, then you would try to catch him after it. Maybe it would be easier. There was no way people wouldn’t be eliminated considering this is a competition, right?
THE STEPS FELT endless underneath your feet as you moved, it didn’t help how people were bumping and rushing through every once in a while. Your legs burned from climbing so many steps, but you had to keep moving in order to play the game. It felt more like a physical preparation, if anything. Legs starting to get sore, you sighed in relief as you found the entrance gate with other players, walking through to find a huge room— if you could even call it a room, before everyone.
It was similar to a park, the ground was sandy and dry as you rubbed your feet against it curiously. It was something akin to dry earth, you supposed. The sound of the ceiling opening above you was what you noticed next, were you underground? It was quite hard to tell how the whole place was set up, but as you gazed into the open blue sky above, you were almost a hundred percent sure that you were underneath a place. Which was weird, out of every place they could’ve picked..
Raking your eyes downwards, you stopped somewhere near the starting line before finally seeing it. That thing was huge, a doll, you guessed. You weren’t the only one who had spotted it, people around started to talk about it too. She was.. unsettling. Gazing straight ahead while two guards holding guns, circle guards, stood on each side. Not only was she unsettling but she looked extremely tall. Seagulls above you started to squawk, the faraway sound of the shore hitting your ears at the same time as the doors behind you shut closed. "What the hell.." you whispered, trying to make sense out of the situation.
"The first game is Red light, Green light." A feminine voice suddenly appeared, you guessed from speakers placed around, maybe. "The rules are simple, move when the doll is singing, and once the song stops, stop moving."
This should be easy enough. The doll whirled around not long after, one hand covering her face with mechanical buzzes as it moved. You held your breath, feet digging on the ground as you prepared to move. "Let the game begin."
A beep came from somewhere, you didn’t waste time to think where it came from as the doll started singing. Some people moved ahead of others, trying to be funny. You decided to aim to stay balanced and to not get pushed in case someone crept up behind you.
You glanced around, everyone seemed frozen in place. Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as you thought it would be. The doll’s head turned around, stopping as if she was watching each player personally. You couldn’t tell what felt off.
Once she started singing again, you followed straight ahead, a bit faster to not stay behind in the crowd. You aimed to stay far from most players, not trying to risk anything when you really needed this money. It was going smoothly so far, maybe, just maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe everyone would make it with a couple of billion won for game completion. That was what you were promised, after all.
Everything was going right, a bit too right. No one spoke, the only sound was the shuffling of feet whenever the doll turned around to sing. "This is kid’s play, it’ll be easy." You heard someone behind you whisper to someone else, you guessed he was right.
Until a sharp sound reached your ears, you nearly flinched. You weren’t sure what the source was, but it sounded like a gunshot. Then the footsteps against the ground when the doll hadn’t turned around yet. You held your breath, heart beating so fast you swore it was going to beat out of you. The woman’s scream pierced through the air, followed by another gunshot. "Players 223, 010, eliminated." The woman in the loudspeaker called out.
Chaos broke out moments after. People were everywhere, screaming, crying, begging to leave. Gunshot after gunshot, people started falling to the ground. The smell of blood was unbearable, but the screams seemed to pierce right into your eardrums. You didn’t move, just looked to the side, completely horrified and with your heart on your throat to find blood coating the floor. People rushing back to the doors where you walked through and banging against it only for gunshots to swallow everything up.
You knew something was off, that this had a catch, you just didn’t know it would mean death. People brushed past you, you tried your best not to flinch and stay still as you pressed your lips into a thin line despite the gunshots ringing all around you. The tears felt stinging, but they didn’t fall. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a final gunshot rang out. No one dared to move as the woman in the speakers started to talk. "Let me repeat the rules." She started with a robotic voice, neutral. You felt horror clawing at you, body begging to run, but you didn’t. "You can move forward while the tagger shouts, “Green light, Red light.” If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated."
You would die. You sucked in a deep breath, forcing your wobbly legs to stay firm and not give out on you. You would rather suffer while dirt poor out in the world than to be here. You realized that maybe you took your life that was so horrible for granted, at least you were sure to somehow live out there. The doll started singing again shortly after, and yet no one dared to move. Your legs felt weak as it turned to face the bark of the tree, and then turned back around.
Everyone walked into a huge game where signing the clause of consent is suicide, and they weren’t even warned. You tried your best to close your eyes, to hope that this was just a bad dream, but it was reality. No sound was heard aside from the heavy breathing everyone seemed to let out. Your eyes flickered to the clock marking two minutes and fifteen seconds. Dread crashed onto you like a wave, the doll turned again.
This time people started moving, but not you. You stayed frozen, eyeing the bodies on the floor with sheer horror. Some of their eyes were wide open, mouths open wide in a scream that died in their throats before it even came out. Your shoes were stained, a crimson red that seemed to stare at you and make you acknowledge the weight of your choices. You will die here, and it’s your own fault.
A hand grasped your wrist before you could think much of it. The doll sang, you were dragged forward, snapping out of it almost instantly as you flinched, only to stop mid motion when the doll froze. You recognized the tall figure, the shade of blonde that made him stand out from between the sea of black haired people. You were hidden right behind him, almost like he was shielding you from the vision of the doll. You could feel your hands tremble, but his weren’t much better either. You could tell SOOBIN was trying to keep calm and make it to the end, to not lose his cool.
In the silence where gunshots rang off, you eyed the red staining his pants. Right on the side of his waist.. was he shot? You couldn’t see if there were any bullet holes, but thinking he had one made you feel more sick than ever. "You’re bleeding?" You whispered in a shaky voice, he didn’t reply, not until you could move again.
"It’s not my blood, and we don’t have much time. Just stay behind me. I’ve got you." Soobin asserted, hand slipping to grasp yours in a tight hold just in case. Your lungs burned, every time the doll turned, a gunshot would ring off. It was almost impossible to not look at the complete bloodbath that the arena of the game became, if this— whatever this is, could be called a game.
With the time ticking and Soobin slowly putting more speed in his step, you two finally crossed the finish line. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, a hand firm on the swell of your belly as a form of reassurance. You were alive, and so was she. Before anything, you glanced at the clock marking fifteen seconds. Then back at the field, the doll froze over, someone hadn’t made it over yet. They were clearly wounded, busted his ankle as far as you could see.
You wanted to scream. You really wanted to help, so much so that you turned your body towards the open place full of bodies as if you could do much. You would’ve been dead if it wasn’t for Soobin.
"Hey, hey. Look at me." Soobin tapped your arm, and your eyes met his. He looked terrified, blood splattered across his face and staining the uniform he was assigned. Tears built up in your eyes, hot and unstoppable. It clogged your throat, eyes darted to the player and the time. You could hear his pleas for help, he didn’t look much older than you.
Nobody moved to help.
Soobin grasped your shoulders, both of them and turned you towards him. Not rough, not mean. Just in a comforting way, or in a way to provide the best comfort he could in a situation where it was either life or death. "Don’t look at him, okay? Worry about yourself and the baby. You’re alive, you’re safe. But don’t look out there." He instructed gently, eyes flickering to the timer who buzzed at zero. You didn’t miss the way he cursed under his breath, nor the way he wiped his hands in his pants to not get your hair dirty as he covered your ears.
The last gunshot rang off, followed by that robotic voice that declared: "Player 055, eliminated." Neither one of you moved, your eyes stayed glued to his as he tried to keep himself together. Maybe you were meant to meet since that day for a reason.
Above you, the rumbling of the ceiling closing could finally be heard. Locking you away from the surface, shadowing what was once the illusion that you could leave here so easily. It wasn’t just child’s play, not like how they described it.
THE BEDS CREAKED TOO LOUDLY underneath your weight, you were sat with your knees tucked to your chest. The room was dim, a golden light flickering from the ceiling. Soobin hadn’t left your side, his presence was steady and quiet sitting at the edge of the bed. You stared down at your still shaky hands, you couldn’t help but replay the moments from the game that went on not too long ago.
The eyes of the dead people. Your stomach churned and you swallowed down the bile rising up your throat, you were terrified. Not only did you feel the heavy weight of the lives taken in your hands, but your clothes and shoes still were stained in blood. It wasn’t your fault, you knew it. But not stopping at least one or two people from running even if you died too felt incredibly wrong.
And then there was that guy around your age, god. Your chest ached, remembering the way his ankle was twisted in a way the bone was clearly dislocated. Drenched in blood from his knees down after being knocked over by bodies, like you assumed he was. He mirrored the terror in your eyes, they were glassy before they no longer conveyed emotion. He screamed in hopes someone would help him, his throat going hoarse as his voice cracked. He had a family too, a life. He lost it because he needed the money.
You started to resent the greed for money and the word in itself right then and there. But it didn’t ease the guilt.
"You’re still thinking about him," Soobin finally spoke, shifting a bit closer to you but not too much. He was a stranger, but he treated you like he knew you his whole entire life. "It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have helped him."
You swallowed hard, finding it even harder to hold his gaze. "I know it wasn’t my fault." You uttered back, trying to shrink further into the mattress that creaked in protest.
"You keep saying you know it isn’t your fault, but that looks a lot more like fear to me." He didn’t press further than that, instead his eyes fixated on the door that opened loudly, announcing the guards entering the room. His words touched something in you, something that you left buried since you found out you were pregnant until now.
You guessed they were the ones that shot everyone. You weren’t sure if you should feel anger or fear towards them, especially when they clearly had the power here despite being so heartless. You avoided looking much, instead you caught onto how the other players, as you were called, hid underneath the bunks and behind other players taller than them. Fear of being shot or killed, evidently.
"Congratulations for making it through the first game, here are the results of the first game." Your eyes flickered to the screen of the TV above the platform they were standing, 456 players started out— you pursed your lips at how quickly the number went down. "Out of 456 players, 91 players have been eliminated. 365 players have completed the first game."
"Congratulations again for making it through the first game." They congratulated you after nearly killing you, it was ironic. Were they doing this out of entertainment? Because for some reason, this was fun? Either way, it didn’t last long. Slowly but surely, people started rushing forwards on their knees. Begging for their lives, it felt completely pointless.
"Please— don’t kill us! I have a baby waiting for me at home!" A woman scrambled to her knees, tears of sheer desperation running down her face as her forehead hit the floor. The room grew increasingly loud, everyone having the same thing in mind, at least most people wanted to get out of here. "You told us we would play games, not that you would kill us!"
"I swear I’ll pay my debt back, I’ll pay you back!" A man wailed, the screams piercing through your ears. "Please forgive me!"
"There seems to be a misunderstanding." The masked guard looked around the room, you weren’t sure if he was indifferent or maybe just fed up. It was a sad sight, everyone kneeled down and begging for their lives. Maybe they were just used to it. "We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity."
He wasn’t wrong, in a way. One way or another, most people, hell, even you would die out there. Loan sharks, hospital bills you would have to pay, gambling.. somehow, you’d all die out there.
"Clause three of the consent form." You heard Soobin say, turning your head towards him. Right— the consent clauses.
"CLAUSE THREE OF THE CONSENT FORM." Soobin called out on top of the cracking and quivering voices, standing up from where he was sitting next to you. For the last couple of minutes, he had been watching everyone hide away, terrified of being killed. This wasn’t right. You signed up to play games, not to be killed.
He had always been careful with what he signed, it was something valuable his father taught him from a young age. Always read something before proceeding, and Soobin took it for life. He was one of the last few people who had signed the consent form, and Soobin took his time to read it before leaving his signature on the paper, officially becoming a player.
During the previous game, if you could even call it a game, it was an initial shock everyone including him had to push past. It was inhuman, no less terrifying than to die out there. It was his choice despite not knowing it’d lead to this, but something had shifted when his eyes locked onto you.
He remembered you very well, the pregnant lady from the convenience store who couldn’t afford some food. You were standing frozen while people moved forward, blood splattered on your shoes and eyes wide as you stared into the eyes of a corpse. The day he paid for your food was the day he completely ran out of money, and yet he did it because you deserved it more than him.
His heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. You were pregnant in a game surrounded by death, it clicked to him almost instantly that being eliminated meant you would be killed. He paid for your food because he wanted you to have hope and somehow find a good way of having your baby safely, and even when he was starving, he didn’t regret it.
But seeing you standing there completely frozen, unable to move as the timer ticked down, something twisted in him. He’d have to somehow get you out of here. Making it his life mission to run towards your direction and snap you out of it. He refused to let you die here, or let you die before you got the chance to have your baby you clearly were protective of.
Sitting down on that bed made him remember the three things written down on the consent form everyone seemed to not have read. The first clause was a player wasn’t allowed to stop, the second one was a player who refused to play would be eliminated, and lastly the games would be terminated if majority of players agreed. It was a democracy of sorts, but as his eyes raked over the begging people, it was safe to assume that most would want to get out of here.
You deserved to have a good life, and you deserved to meet your baby. You shouldn’t be here in a game surrounded by death when you should be waiting for your due date. It wasn’t right.
"The games may be terminated if the majority of the players vote to leave." His footsteps felt heavy on the stairs as he descended, despite the way his heart thudded heavily against his chest, he could try. As sick and twisted as this game was, there was no way they would go against their own consent clauses if they were so pressed about fair game. "Correct?"
"That is correct." The guard slightly nodded, a sigh of relief left Soobin’s lips shortly, but he remained firm. "Then let us take a vote right now."
"Of course. We respect your right to freedom of choice." It felt like the world was lighter on his shoulders now, players started sighing in relief, some jumping in joy. "But first, let me announce the prize amount that’s been accumulated." The square guard’s hand grabbed a remote, pressing on a button as the ceiling started to rumble, catching everyone’s eyes.
Soobin couldn’t deny that the sight shocked him as the lights dimmed once again, the golden hue returning as a digital thrilling sound became audible. People started to crowd towards the middle as money, thousands maybe, started to fill up a huge pig above everyone’s head. He couldn’t help the way his jaw slightly hung open in surprise, hands clenching in fists. Looking around, the players looked entranced by the sheer amount of money falling inside that piggy bank.
"The number of players eliminated is 91, therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated. If you quit the games now, the 365 of you can equally divide the 9.1 billion won and leave with your share." The guard explained as he faced the room— this had to be some kind of technique to get players to want to stay. Many of them, including Soobin, had a shitty life waiting for them outside of wherever this place was. It wasn’t rocket science to guess that 9.1 billion won divided by 365 people was barely nothing to cover his debt, the logical explanation would be to keep playing. Loan sharks were unforgiving, but this game gave off a quick death to many.
And yet, was it really worth it? Soobin’s eyes flickered over to you, who remained sitting on the bunk bed, but this time sitting closer to the edge and gripping the railing. You looked as entranced as everyone else, it was impossible not to be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of money. But there was no guarantee you would make it out alive, especially when you had the disadvantage of being pregnant in a game against all kinds of people. It was more likely you’d die than win.
"How much is that?" A man asked, player 120. Soobin faintly remembered him, the guy that was called out for his debt in the beginning of the game. Choi Beomgyu, Soobin recalled. It was a question that all of the players seemed to have in mind but didn’t ask. "Each person’s share would be 24,931,500 won."
"Fuck, we almost died and they’re giving us only 24 million?" Someone in the room groaned, some called it bullshit. But if analyzed, it was fair game. "You said 45.6 Billion!"
"The rule is that a hundred million won will be accumulated for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game and more players get eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly." Soobin’s jaw clenched, of course there was a catch before voting.
"The rule is that a hundred million won will be accumulated for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game and more players get eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly." Of course there had to be a catch before voting, without it, everyone would leave. The previous relief he had felt was completely dissipating underneath the incredulity of the players around. Each player dead meant more money, and with each rising question, Soobin came to realize that greed would be the death of most people here. And that would maybe include you and your baby.
"So we can vote again after the next game and still leave with more?" A guy next to him asked, Soobin’s eyes fixated on the number. Player 125, he looked younger than most. He wondered how a guy so young could end up here, and while Soobin himself couldn’t talk much due to also being in his mid 20s, he looked around your age— maybe early 20s.
"As promised in the consent form, you can take a vote after each game and decide to leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point." The guard reassured, and yet, the dread seemed to deepen on Soobin’s gut. "We always prioritize your voluntary participation, now let’s begin the vote."
Slowly, the arrangements to vote were brought up. Two sets of buttons who shone in a red and blue light, O and X. Not only that, but the room was arranged in two sides, as if it was intentional to have the disagreeing players well aware where the other was. "If you wish to end here, press the X button. If you wish to proceed, press the O button."
"Player 454, please cast your vote." The first guy stepped forward, sharp eyes but his jaw seemed to be clenched so tight it looked sharper. Each step was a decision, the seconds ticking as he analyzed each button before pressing the O button. He was handed a patch, pressing it against his chest where the uniform allowed and staying on the O side.
Number by number, on descending order, people were called down. Each casting their votes based on what they thought would mean living and leaving with the money or dying. Soobin watched in a bated breath as you were called down, despite the fact he wanted to get you out, he was unsure if you wanted to get out. But you didn’t hesitate to press X and step aside with some other people who had already voted X. A smile painted his lips, giving you a thumbs up as your eyes met, only for it to deepen when you lowered your head slowly and smiled back. Soobin himself didn’t hesitate to press X and taped the patch to the right side of his chest, finding you with ease in the side you both picked.
"We’ll get out of here." Soobin reassured as soon as he stood next to you, sneakily pointing towards a few people around. "Even if the prize money isn’t enough, I think most of them value living instead of gambling their lives."
You hummed in response, observing as the next player stepped up and pressed O. You tried to not feel too hopeless because Soobin was right, there were a lot of players in here. "You’re right." You whispered back, shifting your weight from one foot to another. "I just hope no one changes their mind up front."
Voting seemed to drag on forever, each O pressed was like a knife twisted on Soobin’s chest, it was hard to prevent the anxiety bubbling up in his throat. Each X however felt like a small victory, even if sometimes the number of people who wanted to keep going went higher than the number of those who wanted to leave. Both sides started to fill out, separating both of the groups until all that was left was a 182/182 tie on the screen. Soobin felt sick to his stomach as the last player was called— player 001. The room that was so loud in a mix of groans and cheers suddenly fell silent on the decision of one last player.
His hair was black, falling over his eyes as he avoided the stares of the players who voted against the inevitable bloodbath. Cries started to fill the room, air felt like it was punched out of Soobin’s lungs as he watched the guards announce the inevitable. None of it truly mattered, not when you were by his side, frightened and knowing that maybe.. not even maybe, statistically, you could die here. You weren’t crying, not like the others, at least. But you retreated into yourself in a way that his heart twisted, not only because he was powerless to get you out but because he didn’t even know the games or if the odds would somehow let him protect you.
Eyes softening underneath the panic that filled the crowded room, his hand found your shoulder. Not in a consoling way, Soobin knew better than to comfort you when it came to a reality that was right in front of your face. His touch was reassuring, a way to say I'm here while still being wordless. Your eyes met, while yours were troubled and his were no less, his were soothing.
Choi Soobin had always been more level headed between the two of you.
"If it depends on me, you’ll get out of here alive. I promise you." Despite the fact he was tense, and the wave of fear rushing to crumble upon him, he still put on a smile for you. You, a complete stranger whom he had waddled into a random Tuesday night. "We’ll complete the second game, and then once everyone’s satisfied with a bit more, we’ll vote to leave. Okay?"
It was an empty promise, Soobin was well aware of it. He had grown quite used to them, and eventually, they became a habit of his. To promise something when you were uncertain of your fate. It started small, when he was a mere child. Debt hadn’t always been present in Soobin’s life, he had everything in his favor to have a good life. He should’ve gotten married, had kids, and lived with a stable source of income like any other man his age would.
His parents were a happily married couple, he was the youngest of three kids. His older brother had always been attentive, alongside his father, they taught how he should behave. Take the lead, be headstrong, maintain your cool even as the world around you crumbles. His sister and mother taught him how to be gentlemanly, how to be gentle and kind towards others but to also never bow down to someone humiliating you. It had been a delicate balance.
A small promise jagged the whole family.
"I want her name to be Eun-seo." Soobin’s voice chirped, a smile plastered on his lips as he leaned over his mother’s shoulder as she caressed the soft swell of her belly. She was pregnant, glowing, even. Pregnancy looked good on his mom— a lot of people thought so. She had this way of making her most difficult moments seem easy, a way of making her own stress die down when she remembered what this all was for. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips parted in laughter, her smile unwavering. "Choi Eun-seo?"
Her voice was sweet, attentive. One of her free hands on top of Soobin’s arms that were wrapped around her from behind on that porch on a warm summer day. The kind of day where the day slows and everything seems calmer, where nostalgia hits once you’re old and reminiscing the old days before death knocks. "Yes. Eun-seo. It’s pretty like her."
Death knocked too early for her.
"It’s not bad." She hummed, easy as the breeze brushed her hair from her eyes. The leaves rustled softly, the sun was kissing the horizon in a beautiful farewell like it did everyday on schedule. Life had been easy, like any other nine year old child, Soobin wasn’t quite aware of any other possible worries. "Do you promise you’ll name her Eun-seo?" He questioned excitedly, and yet wasn’t trying to put too much of his weight onto his mother’s body.
"I promise." The woman nodded, her eyes trailing downwards in the curve of a soft smile as she rubbed her baby bump. "Choi Eun-seo. You’ll be very loved."
Promises were carelessly thrown around. Eun-seo never got to see the light of day, a month or so before her birth, his mother had a miscarriage. It was an ugly sight to wake up to, his siblings had to witness it while Soobin didn’t. He was awoken to his mother’s screams and his older sister telling him it would be okay. She promised him.
That night, his mother had lost her baby. Nothing was ever the same since Eun-seo died, not quite. A baby that hadn’t even seen the world was mourned over like a person who had lived all their lives. The once loud house quieted down, his mother, once the liveliest woman Soobin had ever known, seemed to wilt and slowly dull with every passing day.
Promises from that day on became meaningless, just a form of reassurance. A way of trying to dodge problems at the moment until the true scary, and inevitable moment, arrived.
YOU FOUND THAT next morning arrived way too quickly. The same sound of the same classical music you’d heard when you arrived here was a wake up alarm in your ears as you groaned, pushing yourself upwards. People were already gathering at the floor in somewhat neat lines, as neat as people who only cared about themselves could line up to get breakfast that was already being offered up front. Soobin was nowhere to be found, considering that no players would swap beds with him last night. He slept six bunks away, two above you. It wasn’t that bad, you supposed. But you could live without him.
He was just a stranger trying to keep you safe. Despite it, your instincts yelled at you to not get too attached. It was a game of life or death, if he died, attachment would just leave another empty hole on your chest like SUNGHOON left one in yours when he left you. Your stomach growled as if right on cue, and so you stood up and waited in line.
Breakfast was simple, sweet bread and some milk when you expected the bread to be somewhat hard, considering you were just lamb for slaughter. You found Soobin already sitting at your bunk when you arrived, also coming to realize he was truly serious about getting you out of here. You were unsure why, but still, you let him.
"Did you sleep well?" His voice was that same soft tune, careful and warm that seemed to make you want to trust him. "These mattresses aren’t necessarily the most comfortable things in the world."
"I slept as well as someone can in mattresses like these." You replied with a small smile, taking your seat at a respectful distance from him as you ripped open the pack where they stored the bread and opened your milk. It wasn’t bad, surprisingly. But it didn’t necessarily taste fresh either, you assumed maybe they were just stocked up on certain foods for these games.
Just how much money did they really have here? The facility seemed endless, so did the possibilities.
Your thoughts couldn’t get much further as Soobin offered you his bread wordlessly, an expectant look in his eyes that said ‘take it.’ "Soobin, I’m already eating, you need food to stay strong too." You frowned, but he didn’t let up.
"You’re the one eating for two people, not me. I promise I’ll live by drinking only milk for breakfast." Extending his hand further, a serious look seemed to wash over his face. A sigh left your lips, and his smile returned as you took the bread. "You’re impossible."
"I’m trying to get you out of here in the best shape I can." Soobin debated, already taking a swig of milk. You couldn’t help but notice how small the carton of milk that was already tiny looked in his hands, it was the first time you came to realize how.. broad he was. Tall, strong, and firm in the right places.
You shook away your thoughts, focusing on your bread instead of him. "What do you think the next game will be?" You mumbled, a hint of nervousness evident in your voice. He took a pause, pressing the milk down against his thigh as he took an audible breath in. "Whatever it is, don’t worry about it. They’ll kill me before they kill you."
The thought made your heart clench. It was inevitable to picture Soobin lying there motionless in a position his body would have landed after being shot, eyes glazed over with blood seeping out of his wounds. Despite the fact he was a stranger to you, Soobin had been trying to keep you safe to the best of his abilities. He was the reason you hadn’t died, he was putting himself after you and taking better care of you than you had taken care of yourself these last couple of months. If anyone deserved to leave this game with the money, it was him.
He truly had a heart of gold, you thought as you nodded at his words, not pushing further on the matter.
"Thank you."
You were already dreading the long way up the stairs when you got called down to the second game, but it was by no means worse than the anxiety that made you want to throw up. If 91 players had already died during the first game, god knows how many would die during the second game. The thirst to win was plastered on every single player as they brushed past you, making everything feel like a major problem or disadvantage. You knew you were easy target.
The doors opened like usual, but not three at once like last time. The room however seemed just as big as the last one, yet the scenery was colorful. You found it nostalgic, and maybe this was the point. Maybe the point was to give one last view of your childhood before you died because of the choices you made up to adulthood. As sick as it was, it was somewhat soothing.
Soobin was right behind you as you walked, always making sure to let you know that he was here despite everything. Two circles were on the floor almost like a track, your mind already picturing having to run— that would be your biggest nightmare. Your stamina hasn’t been the best, and pregnancy made you considerably slower than most. Still, you swallowed the lump in your throat and kept moving as you analyzed the rainbow patterns the room was adorned with. You loved them as a kid, the colorful arcs painting the sky after rain met the sunny day in a warm afternoon, now it just seemed like another possible death scenery.
The music was lively, almost too cheerful for what was about to happen. Before you found yourself thinking too hard on what was about to happen, the woman who previously announced the rules on the last game spoke up. "Welcome to your second game! This game will be played in teams."
Your eyes flickered towards Soobin, who nodded at you and wordlessly reached for your hand as you both ventured the place. "Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes." And then her voice ceased before she repeated the instructions.
It shouldn’t be too hard, you supposed. Soobin took the lead without being asked to do so, but you found that it was harder to find a group than you expected. The first group you found had exactly three guys, they looked promising, too. "Excuse me, do you mind if we joined you?" Soobin’s voice breached through the chatter, and instantly, their eyes fell on you.
Something twisted inside of you at the very moment. You could tell they were staring you down, that they were judging you because you were a woman. Your baby bump wasn’t all that visible due to the large uniform, but either way, they probably deemed you as weak. A liability.
"Sorry, we’ll take you in, but not the lady." One of the men spoke gruffly, puffing his chest to make himself seem tougher than he actually was. You looked at Soobin, already planning on telling him to go with these guys and to tell him you’d be fine on your own, but he had already made up his mind and shut the request down. "We’ll look for another group." He decided.
Group after group, you searched for people who would take you in. Some formed very quickly, some didn’t take you in due to all men alliances, you were already starting to think you wouldn’t manage to find a group. Guys would scoff and say you weren’t the kind of person they were looking for, and you knew that in a way, you were dragging Soobin down. And that in itself was already enough to make your palms sweat under Soobin’s hold.
He somehow remained calm all the way, at least on the surface. The timer was ticking down, and his thumb was rubbing over your knuckles in a quiet reassurance. His own way of saying 'I got you.'
You learned that Soobin had his ways to give you comfort without even having to use his words, slowly but surely and in a short time, you were finding more out about him.
It felt like an eternity until you stumbled upon a group, exactly three guys. They didn’t look much older than you nor Soobin, and despite knowing you could possibly be turned down, you didn’t let it take over your mind too much. "Excuse me," Soobin asked for what felt like the thirteenth time, never losing his polite way of speaking. "Do you mind if we join you?"
These guys, oddly enough, didn’t stare you down. Their eyes had something akin to awkwardness, one of them shifted, you guessed he was the oldest one here. 454– the first player to vote, you also recalled. "Sorry, we would but we already have four members. The fourth went to try and find someone."
Soobin pressed his lips together, you could practically see the gears turning inside his brain as he turned towards you and then at the group of guys. It was either him or you. "Go with them." His hand squeezed yours, his eyes remained tender. It would be harder to find a group who would take you both in or let alone you by yourself, and you knew it. But choosing yourself over him when he had put you before him so many times felt wrong.
"Soobin, you can stay with them. I’ll go find a group and we can just meet up."
"You’re pregnant, Y/N." Soobin reminded you, his eyes fierce. "You’re the priority here."
You were sure the guys in the group had heard him, but all you could focus on was the burning intensity in his eyes. How quickly he shifted from firm, to calm, to comforting and to having a flicker of fire in them. He wasn’t going to let you turn this opportunity down.
"I promise I’ll meet you right after the game ends, okay? But right now, what matters is you staying safe in a group."
People who played the hero always died, that was a fact. You dreaded the day that Choi Soobin would die because of his choice of saving you unexplainably so. He shifted his gaze towards the three men in the group, who hadn’t changed opinions judging by how they looked like they were waiting even as they heard the word pregnant, and then back at you before letting go of your hand.
"Okay." You nodded.
Right on cue, who you guessed was the fourth member of the group arrived with another guy. "I found someone!" He called out, hell, he didn’t look much older than you. How the fuck did he end up here?
Everyone had a way to get in debt, you assumed. You stood closer to the red haired guy, the one who looked like he was the oldest in the group. The guy who had just arrived looked between you and the other three group mates, and then back at the guy he had found, already seeming to get the memo. "Sorry, I think they found a fifth member before I found you.." he said rather sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward manner.
It was awkward, you couldn’t lie.
"We can go together, if you want?" Soobin stepped in right before the other guy who had been brought by the one with silver hair. And just like that, Soobin was merging himself with the crowd of people, disappearing from your vision range.
"You’re pregnant?" The guy with brown hair suddenly asked, genuinely curious instead of judging as he stared right at your stomach. You pursed your lips and nodded, hand resting above your bump. "She’s coming soon."
You found out that these guys were more understanding than judging, in a way. The one with brown hair was CHOI BEOMGYU, his eyes were around the same shade– hair barely reaching his shoulders. He had this youthful and playful look to him that you could rarely see in the other players. You wondered how he ended up here, especially considering how friendly he looked, or made himself out to be.
The one with red hair and now confirmed the oldest was CHOI YEONJUN. You could tell he was somewhat sharper than the rest, firm. He had this commanding aura to him, the kind that makes you realize he doesn’t joke around when things get serious. He has a nice smile, though. You supposed he wasn’t as intimidating as he looked at first glance, instead, he was the one that welcomed you in a more calmer and accepting way compared to the others.
The youngest one, silver haired, was HUENING KAI, he didn’t look that much older than him. He was far more youthful than Beomgyu, albeit the fact he was broader than him, it was hard to miss it in how he acted that he was younger than all of you. Maybe it was to suppress the nervousness of the game ahead, but he wasn’t half bad.
Lastly, the other one whom you recognized as player 001, the one who sealed the choice of the game, was KANG TAEHYUN. He looked rather ordinary, but more closed off than the rest of the group, the kind that keeps to himself, you mused. His hair was raven, his eyes weren’t that much lighter. Compared to the other three who had striking hair colors, Taehyun easily blended in with the crowd of black-haired players. You didn’t have much of an opinion on him aside from how he seemed very analytical, it was clear by how he looked around but lingered with the corners of his eyes.
Conversation flowed easily amongst the five of you, they were definitely way more curious than they looked. Beomgyu spent most of his time asking how did it feel to be pregnant and talking about how you shouldn’t be here if you were carrying a baby, Kai didn’t miss the chance to join in to congratulate you.
In a way, all of you clicked. Yeonjun said as far as he could, he’d make sure you and Soobin would meet right after the games were done, and that you all could even form a group just in case. Taehyun seemed like the quietest one out of all of them, almost.. watching. Something felt off about him, but you brushed it off. Not everyone was sociable, you weren’t that much of a social butterfly and you respected it.
"Did you think of a name yet?" Yeonjun butted in while Beomgyu went on carrying the conversation with ease, it felt like the only thing available to do while the timer counted down to zero.
"Not really." You mused, absentmindedly tracing circles on your uniform. "I haven’t had the chance."
"I don’t mean to be insensitive but.. shouldn’t the father of your baby be here instead of you— or with you?" Taehyun finally asked, eyes meeting yours in a rather solemn look. "The tall guy, right?"
Your lips gaped, you would have flushed at the comment if the reality wasn’t so grim. "He’s not the father." You pause, trying to search for the correct words. "She doesn’t have one."
The group quieted down, the atmosphere a bit more solemn as your eyes trailed down to your feet.
The truth was that you didn’t plan to let any other man get inside your life, no matter how kind they were. You trusted too much, too deep, and that was what led you here. They didn’t press into the matter, instead, Kai spoke up. "Well, she doesn’t need that loser. If we stay in a group, then we can all be some sort of guardians for her while you’re here."
You weren’t that trusting of them despite the kindness, trusting too easily made you burn yourself, but they were all you had so far. "That’d be amazing."
The timer buzzed in the alarms before the conversation could proceed. "Time for team selection is up."
It didn’t take much before each group of five were organized and sat in neat rows inside the colorful circle that was built like a track, each five sides had a guard sitting with something presented on the tables in front of them, and two guards stood by the finish mark that was also the starting line.
"The game you will be playing is Six-legged Pentathlon." The robotic and already familiar voice instructed, you swore you’d be hearing that voice in your nightmares. "You will start with your legs tied together, each member will take turns playing a mini-game at every ten-meter mark. And if you win, the team can move on to the next one."
"Here are the mini games: First game, Ddakji." You frowned, you for sure couldn’t play ddakji for shit. You were slapped by that guy in a suit around seven times before you finally won. "Second game: flying stone."
"Third game: Gong-gi. Fourth game: Spinning top. And lastly, the fifth game: Jegi." You shifted in your seat, eyeing your teammates and hoping they knew the other four games. Suddenly, sitting alone at lunch flipping stones as makeshift gong-gi didn’t seem all that bad anymore. "Your goal is to win all the mini-games and cross the finish line in five minutes. Please, decide players for each mini game."
You were the first to speak up, clearing your throat. "I can do gong-gi, I used to play a lot as a kid."
"That’s good we have you in our team, I doubt any of us knows how to play gong-gi." Yeonjun sighed out of relief, nodding towards you in acknowledgment. "I knew we were doing something when we took her in, that’s why the most helpful things are always the ones people overlook." Beomgyu exclaimed, doing a thumbs towards you.
You thanked him under your breath, laughter muffled under it despite the circumstances. Finding a rhythm wasn’t hard, Taehyun would do Ddakji since according to him he won the first round against the suit guy, Yeonjun would do flying stone since he played some sport related to it in middle school, you would play Gong-gi, Kai would do the spinning top, and Beomgyu would play Jegi.
Like instructed, the first two teams had their feet tied on each separate pentathlon circles. Your eyes were keen, watching. This was more about teamwork than individual work for most part, moving with your feet tied wasn’t easy. If you wanted to make it through, you’d need strategy.
At the same time, you sat up a bit straighter. Trying to find the same shade of blonde hair Soobin sported. You sighed as you saw the side of his head on the other circle, sitting near the last couple of rows.
You would go before he did. Meaning you’d only find out if he was alive or not once the games were nearing an end.
"Teams one and two, get ready." The woman on the PA system announced, you watched as the group of men who previously turned you down at first stood confidently. "Let the game begin."
A roar that was meant to scream confidence left them as a circle guard raised his rifle to the air, shooting as the timer started ticking down. It was hard to balance, but they found a pace. Moving the feet tied together forward at the same time and counting one and two repeatedly in order to not fall.
Maybe your team could use this.
They stopped right at the first station, the first player grabbing the blue ddakji as the guard who was holding up the two in his hands grabbed the red one. The man kissed his ddakji before throwing it down, and thankfully, it flipped over right there. You couldn’t help but smile at the teamwork, everything seemed under control so far. Even if it was an illusion, it was a rare moment where everyone was rooting for each other.
After congratulating each other, they used the same method to the second station. It was a matter of using each other’s abilities and working together as a team— as soon as you reached your station, you were quite frankly, on your own.
The man took a deep breath before throwing it, panic painting his features as he missed. You watched him turn to the circle guard to ask for another stone, but he remained unmoving. Another thing to keep in mind was that if you missed it, it was on you to pick it back up and walk all the way backwards.
Missing could seriously shorten your time, you avoided looking as much to the group as they tried the second round. If you missed playing gong-gi, it was only reasonable they’d make you start all over again. You were good at gong-gi as a kid, but you couldn’t say you were as good nowadays. Clutching your uniform a bit tighter, you tried to find it in yourself to hope that you’d survive.
"Hey," A voice snapped you out of your trance, turning towards the source of the voice, your eyes met Taehyun’s. He looked sure of everything that was going on, almost as if he wasn’t scared at all. "Don’t worry too much, we’ll be fine."
You didn’t reply, but nodded in acknowledgment. He didn’t seem like he was the best with words, but everyone here had been trying.
Your head perched up again as you heard the guard say ‘pass.’ The air in itself seemed to hold its breath as they finally reached gong-gi, but it was because gong-gi wasn’t specifically easy to play. If you never played it before or not too much, it’d make things harder.
One round, the guy messed up. You tensed as his teammates said they didn’t have time, and yet he kept messing up all over again. The atmosphere already felt hot from so many people near each other in an agitated motion, sweat built up on your forehead as your teeth trapped your bottom lip.
With little time remaining, the guy finally managed to win the final round. Around two minutes, you were sure they were going to make it. You watched the guy kiss the spinning top before throwing it, hitting it first try. Despite the joy in their faces, you kept staring at the timer.
They would die if they didn’t do Jegi on their first try.
Something lodged inside your throat as you looked away from the timer, gong-gi was probably the most time consuming game amongst all of the other ones. You’d have to focus if you wanted to win it and win time.
Your train of thought was immediately disrupted as you heard the teams from both sides start pleading.
None of them made it across the pentathlon in time. The timer rang, and the woman announced, "Your time is up."
You knew what was next, so you avoided looking for your own sake. Your eyes shut tight as the gunshots rang out, people screaming everywhere, and finally the sound of bodies thudding against the floor reached your ears. Everyone who failed was killed with no mercy, and equal rights meant not even the baby inside your belly would save you. And yet, no matter how bad you felt for the teams that just died, you couldn’t help but be thankful that these guys turned you down and that you found people that were with you for who you were, not for your gender or for the baby you were carrying.
The teams went one by one, and the floor suddenly became a bloodbath. Machinery was brought to carry out the corpses of people who died trying, people who wanted to stay for money and people who had cried themselves to sleep last night because they wanted to go home. It would all haunt you until you died in this same place, you supposed.
Some teams actually managed to pass, the teams sitting down and including you and the guys you just met cheered them on. It was a loop, silence and respect for those who died and cheers and congratulations for the few who managed to survive this hell. But as the teams went, you found that it was finally your turn.
The shackles around your feet were already stained with blood, you avoided staring too much in order not to cringe despite the fact it was everywhere. Stained on the floor, on people’s faces, on the track ahead of you. It was all mocking, something you couldn’t avoid.
"Teams 40 and 41, get ready." The woman in the PA speakers announced like she had with any other team, you exchanged glances with your teammates. The strategy was simple— follow the way everyone else has been following, give way to the person who’s playing as much as you can, don’t stress too much or scream at another teammate. "Let the game begin."
The gunshot was loud in your ears, but you didn’t falter. "One, two," you counted over and over again, moving your feet in sync with Yeonjun’s and Kai’s who were on either side of you. Sweat was dripping down the nape of your neck, but you pushed forward.
"We’re here!" Beomgyu announced as all of you halted, as discussed, you leaned more towards Taehyun’s side as Taehyun grabbed the blue ddakji. He didn’t waste much time, quickly but efficiently slamming it down against the red card. It flipped over on the first try, you felt your chest lighten. "You did it!" You laughed out your nerves, those who hadn’t gone yet and were watching your group started rooting for you, but now wasn’t the time to mull over it. "Yeah, but we still have a long way to go. Let’s go." Taehyun asserted, and your arms immediately came together in an almost mechanical way. This wasn’t just teamwork, it was survival. Each second counted.
Your breath was heavy, warm against your lips as you tried your best to keep yourself balanced and body upwards. "Let’s get this done on the first try!" Kai exclaimed as you reached the second game, Yeonjun’s hands were firm as he grabbed the stone the circle guard was holding up. He nodded despite the way his jaw was set tight, yet he was confident, it seemed like it came easy to him. "I didn’t have fast pitches in middle school, but I had good ball control."
You nodded, watching as he bent over slightly and aimed towards the standing rock a little far from him, making sure his feet were behind the white line in order to not set the team back too much. You held your breath, fully trusting his abilities with fingers crossed as he threw the rock.
He hit it on the first try, your smile widened as you clenched your fists in a feeling of victory. Despite the adrenaline flooding through you, everything seemed lighter as you watched Beomgyu raise his arms up in the air in a cheer like this was the best game of his life while he shouted “I love you Choi Yeonjun!” And as the players who were sitting down raised their arms to shout encouraging words like ‘fighting!’ and ‘good job!’
The blood squelching beneath your feet felt louder, your heart beating faster now that you were walking towards the third game. It was your turn to play now. You locked eyes with the five little pieces offered in front of you, grabbing them and bringing them to your lips like you always did when you were a kid to wish yourself good luck. While the others squatted, you kneeled down for better balance.
Kai’s hand on your shoulder was brief but reassuring as he patted it, Taehyun reassured you with a ‘you can do it’, you looked down at the platform presented before you.
"Y/N, stay calm. Even if you mess up, we have time." Yeonjun spoke up, you didn’t need to meet his eyes to tell him you appreciated his words. You closed your eyes momentarily, rolled your wrist, and then threw the stones across the propped up platform.
It was a strategy. You picked up one stone, flicking it up in the air as your hand already grabbed the second one beneath. The closest to the one you threw upwards, just so you wouldn’t risk missing. Your hands moved quickly, you were barely even breathing in order to prevent messing up anything. It was the kind of look that screamed hunger for survival, your side of the room was completely silent as the other one filled with groans. You tuned them out.
With the five pieces in hand again, you threw the pieces back. Grabbing one of the gong-gi pieces and throwing it up in the air, grabbing the two closest in pairs swiftly before catching the other one in the air. The hardest part about gong-gi wasn’t catching the pieces below the flying one, it was the last step that many people failed at.
You remained focused, rather tense, even. When you had all five again, they scattered against the board as close to each other as your throw could manage. By now, your body was moving on muscle memory rather than nervousness. All the time you spent by yourself rolling the pieces of gong-gi because no one wanted to talk to a kid who had been adopted came in clutch and fast. Your eyes didn’t follow the piece you threw up, they were trained on the closest group of three below it as you grabbed them and caught the one in the air. The last part of the third round was easy, one up in the air, grab the last one down.
By round four, you were sure you could feel your sweat dripping down your chin. Running down your back and wetting the nape of your tied up hair. All five pieces in hand, you threw one up and slammed the other four down quickly. Then one back up, and grabbed back the other four and grabbed the last one thrown midair.
This was the part that you always struggled with.
You felt your heartbeat quicken as you arranged the tiny pieces to the best of your abilities between the gaps of your index and middle finger, two on one side and three on the other side. You tried to not shake as you flipped your hand, a piece of gong-gi nearly falling from the back of your hand had you not straightened it up.
You stared at the pieces like they were going to kill you. And in a way, if you didn’t catch them now, they would. You were by now acutely aware of the seconds ticking down on the timer, of the expectations that your teammates had on you. Gong-gi always made you feel lighter when you were a kid, it was a way to ignore your loneliness. But maybe that’s what growing up did to you.
Kneeling down on a blood soaked floor, childhood things weren’t meant to soothe you anymore because you weren’t a kid. This game proved it. You were playing games from your childhood with real life expectations and consequences, simple things you used to take for granted were the cause of your death. The tiny pieces of gong-gi felt heavier than the rocks you used back then.
You swallowed dry, from the corner of your eyes, you could see the four guys from each side were turning to look straight at you, not at the pieces.
A small kick fluttering inside of you reminded you why you came in here in the first place. You bit back the gasp and the emotions that seemed to flood you, you couldn’t break here, not now. You weren’t a kid anymore, but you were fighting for the survival of one.
You threw the pieces up. They felt sharp against the palm of your hand as you caught them.
You waited for the possible clatter of the pieces against the board, but none came. Despite the fact your hands were shaking, you opened them to find all of the five pieces nudged inside. A smile spread across your face unprompted, then a laughter of disbelief.
"You did it, holy shit, you actually did it!" Kai exclaimed, cheers erupting around you and drowning out his voice, you still managed to nod towards him with emotion in your eyes. Nothing felt better than seeing Yeonjun shaking Taehyun’s arm out of adrenaline, or Kai tapping your shoulders multiple times as if he didn’t believe it.
Despite the cheers, you had to keep moving. As a group, you hauled each other up to your feet. "Come on, let’s go." Taehyun called out, and you found yourselves with interlinked arms and walking in the same pace. Two minutes and a half ran through the clock again, and as suffocating as it felt before, the sheer support and happiness you had for each other seemed to lift most of it.
You marched with purpose instead of awkwardness now, the sweat didn’t feel disgusting or uncomfortable, it felt rewarding. Kai grabbed the spinning top, wrapping the chord tight around it. His hands were shaky, and you couldn’t blame him. Having everyone’s lives basically in your hands felt nerve wrecking, terrifying.
It was real, heavy, and at the same time it never made someone feel more alive.
You would laugh at yourself if you knew you’d one day say playing gong-gi like your life’s on the line builds more character than anything.
"We believe in you, even if you mess up, you can try again." You encouraged, your eyes meeting his in a silent exchange.
Whatever hesitation he had behind his eyes seemed to vanish for a moment as he grabbed the string of the spinning top, launching it across the floor as it rolled. Beomgyu was shaking Kai in a matter of seconds, relief all over him. To be fair, knowing you had a chance even if it was slim was far more relieving than having time. "You can shake each other later, I swear I’ll kill you if you mess up, Choi Beomgyu." Yeonjun’s voice breached through the screams and cheers, while it was playful, it carried an underlying note of seriousness.
Even if it was relieving, your lives still were on the line.
From the corner of your eyes, you watched Taehyun stare at one of the circle guards before flickering back to Beomgyu. You didn’t get to think much of it before you were readying up to move to the last leg of the pentathlon, arms intertwined and legs moving in sync like it was a second nature.
Beomgyu grabbed the jegi with purpose, clearing his throat as he kicked it once, then twice.
The jegi fell to the ground.
Despite the fact Beomgyu was one of the most energetic ones in the team, his anxiety was palpable. He couldn’t hide the fact that he was nervous more than he was happy to comfort and encourage others, his eyes were wide and his lips pressed in a thin line. He messed up a second time, and the previous cheers that were so loud on your side died down.
His kicks were off, curses spewing from under his heavy breathing. You nearly lost count of how many times he kneeled down to grab the jegi.
You merely looked at the time near the wall, a minute was left. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked back at Beomgyu who crouched down quickly to grab the jegi.
"Yah, Choi Beomgyu!" You heard Kai go off before Yeonjun did, it was easy to say that Yeonjun was caught off guard— all of you were.
Kai’s hands were firm on both of his shoulders, staring deep into his eyes with purpose. "You cheered us on up until now, you encouraged us to keep going." Kai yelled, looking at the time momentarily. "You trusted us with your life, and we lived up to your expectations. So now, if you don’t grab this jegi and kick it five times, I swear I’ll make you regret it before these people shoot us!"
"We believe in you, Beomgyu. And believing in you is the only choice we have, so please don’t disappoint us." Kai took a pause, eyes flickering to your bump that was more easily seen when you were side by side. "Don’t disappoint her."
Strangers were taking better care of you and your daughter better than her dad ever could. You blinked away the sting of the tears, even in near death, life didn’t feel so lonely anymore.
Beomgyu took a deep breath, avoiding the time that ticked above your heads like an active time bomb as he threw the jegi up in the air. You were gripping Yeonjun’s arm so tight you swore a mark would appear underneath the sleeve of the player's uniform. Your eyes fixated on the way his feet hit the jegi. Once, twice, three times, one fourth time.
He kicked it in a funny way, you would’ve laughed if you had time. It was no wonder Beomgyu couldn’t do it properly, his foot was set up straight, but there wasn’t really time to teach him how to balance the jegi and himself on a single leg. But finally, as he raised his leg one last time, the jegi hit his foot before clattering to the ground.
You looked to the circle guard who was standing at the side, your breath leaving as shaky huffs.
His arms circled above his head, a passing sign. You would’ve cheered right there and then had Taehyun not reminded all of you that time was running short. You glanced at the clock that marked fifteen seconds, the guys wasted no time interlocking arms and moving forward.
You kept the balanced count of one and two until the very end, every step taken as quickly as your tied up feet would allow you to move without falling over. With five seconds left on the timer, you finally crossed the finish line.
Relief painted your teammate’s features, you couldn’t help but laugh in sheer disbelief and release of tension. You survived— and most importantly, your baby was safe too.
"We did it, holy shit, we actually did it!" Taehyun cheered loudly, you found yourself already embraced by one of the guys out of joy. Yeonjun’s arms were warm and sure around you, and despite being initially taken aback, you returned his hug in a form of gratitude. Even if you all contributed to each other’s survival, working as a team and staying level headed through the game was what seemed to hold your team together.
"We’re alive." You rasped out, clutching the fabric of Yeonjun’s uniform firmly as the shackles around your ankles were undone.
Your continuous laughter was cut off abruptly by the sharp buzz of the timer that had still been going on.
The people on the other side unfortunately didn’t seem to be as lucky as you. The gunshots rang sharply, the screams of the players died before they could even get too far. Their bodies fell dully against the bloodstained floor, and the players who were already sitting stopped screaming already.
As gruesome as it was, it was inevitable getting used to people failing.
Yeonjun’s hold didn’t ease on you, the victory didn’t melt away, you were still alive and breathing. The joy of surviving just dimmed to respect those who failed.
Your group was brought back to the main room shortly after you had finished the game, you hadn’t heard from Soobin yet. You were worried, you felt it press against your chest uncomfortably as you sat in a bunk next to where your teammates from last rounds sat together. While they chatted away, you kept staring off, waiting to hear the numbers of the eliminated players that the woman in the PA systems called out every five minutes.
Every time a team was eliminated, you clenched your fists and prayed you wouldn’t hear the number 374 being called out for elimination.
"Y/N?" Yeonjun’s voice snapped you out of your trance tentatively, you found that they were staring at you like they had been trying to catch your attention. "Sorry, I’m just.."
"Worried?" Taehyun completed your sentence, you nodded.
"Yeah. I just.. I don't know how he’s doing out there. I think it’s harder to not see it than to see it." You sighed, crossing your legs.
Kai looked a tad curious, in the same way he did when he was bombarding you with questions about your daughter alongside Beomgyu before the pentathlon race started. "You said he’s not the father?" Kai asked quietly, as if already catching on it was a sensitive topic for you. "You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable."
You bit your lip, considering actually telling them. Well, they were the reason you made it out alive. If you were going to die here, at least let it be after telling someone about your life. "Soobin isn’t the father."
"She.. doesn’t have one, actually." You started off, encouraged by the silence that filled the space. "My boyfriend got me pregnant around four years into our relationship, he had a nice life. His parents were well off financially, he was smart, everything I wasn’t."
Your heart twisted in your chest, not in sadness, but in a bitter feeling. You didn’t miss him anymore, you held a massive grudge against Park Sunghoon.
"We met after high school, he was already in college and I was.. well, i was trying to make it through. I didn’t have many friends and was trying my best to try to land a scholarship to please my foster parents who weren’t that rich. He was friendly, we clicked right off the bat. I’ll save the details and say we started dating six months after knowing each other. It lasted well, but his mother never approved the relationship. I could tell she didn’t like me. I was seventeen, didn’t know any better. I should’ve taken it as a sign to break up with him."
You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to keep going despite the resentment. "We always did it the safe way, I’ve always liked to stay safe. It just.. happened. It was meant to be a small thing that happened, it was a drunk mistake after a friend of ours invited us to a birthday party. The symptoms started showing a few weeks later, and when I took the test, he completely freaked out on me. My adoptive parents were disappointed in me, they were already doing enough by letting me stay at their place at 24. I was meant to have my life together. Next thing I know, he blocked me on all platforms, moved away, he just.. disappeared. Took ghosting to a whole new level and left me with a problem we both created."
They remained quiet, because honestly, there weren’t many words to comfort a situation like yours. You didn’t want them to pity you, you just wanted them to see the motives why you were even here. "I don’t miss him anymore, I just want my baby to live a better life than I did. Even if she has no father."
"I’m sorry he abandoned you." Beomgyu was the first to speak, solemn at first before a grin broke through his face to lighten the atmosphere. "But hey, if the asshole’s not going to step up as the dad, we can all be uncles in a way, right? It’s only fair, especially considering we’re a team in a life or death situation."
"He’s not wrong." Yeonjun suggested, leaning further against the wall of the bunk where he was sitting in that calm, quiet confident way of his. "That little girl might not have a father, but she will have people who care for her. Especially that Soobin guy.. he’s definitely set on protecting you and her."
Beauty was in the things that were ephemeral, you supposed. All of you knew that you would die at some risk rate, and yet you kept making subtle plans. You cracked a soft laughter, nodding. "She will."
And you were glad she would. Your eyes crinkled at the corners, leaning against a railing. "I didn’t expect this to happen, or Soobin to happen in my life. We met two weeks ago at a convenience store because he wanted to pay for my food. Against all odds, we met here too."
Kai shrugged, stretching his legs out on the steps. "You know, protection and love is where you least expect it to be."
Just as his words rang, the door to the room opened. People started walking in, filling the room out. You saw Soobin standing taller than most people, it was practically impossible to miss someone his height in a crowd. Nor was it difficult for him to spot you sitting in the group of four guys.
He waved a curt bye to one of the people he was with, you assumed they were in the same group during the pentathlon.
You were beyond relieved, feeling it unravel in your chest as he walked just a bit faster towards you and the others. "You made it."
It was hesitant, asked in his lingering eyes as he opened his arms for a hug, slightly and not forcing. You couldn’t deny the urge to hug him.
He felt real. He was alive, and so were you. His heart was still calming down, but he seemed glad to be back. "I promised you we’d both be fine."
A smile curled on your lips, you nodded. Pulling back from the hug to meet the same warmth you saw in his eyes from the very first day.
It lingered longer than necessary before you pulled back.
The seed of something planted between the two of you was slowly taking root, even if you refused to admit it out loud. It quietly bloomed in every quiet moment, every stolen glance, every touch that meant I'm here for you.
Taehyun’s eyes were locked on the two of you, jaw tightly set. It was rare to find something blossoming so sweetly and slowly while surrounded by death. While the possibilities had always been low, they were never zero.
It was truly a pity this game was meant to be equal for all competitors.
Dinnertime rolled in not long after, you were one of the first in the group to get food as it was announced, not feeling like waiting on your feet too much knowing that despite the deaths, you still had a considerable amount of players.
The line was slow, but you didn’t complain much about it. You kept yourself busy by analyzing the players around, each one so different and yet here for the same reason. You truly underestimated how many people had the same current situation as you.
That was when your eyes found him.
PARK SUNGHOON, he was standing on the other line behind some other players. You blinked quickly, even rubbed your eyes thinking you were seeing things. But you weren’t.
You held the gasp that was about to leave your lips, averting your gaze way too quickly when he felt someone looking at him. You tried to make yourself seem invisible in front of the player who was behind you, heart thudding inside your throat.
What the fuck was he doing here? But most of all, why the hell was he here?
Your teeth gritted, shoulders hunched as the line seemed to now purposefully take forever. You hoped he hadn’t caught a glimpse of you, god— you really did. You didn’t even want to think much of why he was here, you were trying to think of how to avoid him.
When you finally reached the line, your bow of gratitude was sharp, too quickly as you grabbed the metal box and provided a spoon. Your feet rushed as fast as you could without tiring yourself out and making it seem like something was going on. God, you by no means wanted to drag anyone into your messy relationship with your baby daddy despite just having told four guys you met today about him.
You could hear the footsteps behind you, you tried your best to pretend you didn’t even see him. But it was futile, especially as his hand went over your shoulder. Shoulders sagging, you brushed Sunghoon’s hand away from where it rested before turning around.
"Y/N?" Sunghoon looked shocked at first, melting into surprise and even slight relief. You physically cringed at his reaction.
"I don’t want to do this here, Sunghoon. Not with you, especially not after nine months." Your words came out as mechanical, you had never seen him again, and yet you prepared yourself for this moment. Even if it was just a what if.
His eyes raked down to your tummy, whatever words he had mustered up in his mind completely vanished. He looked surprised that you decided to carry on with the pregnancy, to him, you had aborted the baby and moved on. "You’re still?.."
You swallowed dryly. "Yeah, I did. And whatever business is here," your hand, at least the one that wasn’t holding the metal box with food, rested over your bump. "Is my business, don’t pretend to care."
"Come on, Y/N. Don’t be difficult, I’m the father of the baby." Sunghoon insisted, and despite the fact he actually looked interested now, you couldn’t help the spite you felt towards him.
You scoffed, eyes looking away in sheer disbelief as you tried to process his words. "Difficult, Sunghoon? I’m being difficult?" Your voice rose just like how it wavered slightly, trailing down to the blue patch on his chest.
Of course he chose to continue this godforsaken game.
"You don’t get to say I'm difficult when you threw me away when I needed you the most, not after you didn’t even pick up the calls when I needed you there." You spat, eyes sharp and firm. Not because you were petty, but because the fact he left you to rot when you needed him the most still stung deep down.
Things like this couldn’t be just fixed because he wanted to suddenly be present.
"Can’t you just hear me out? I just want to talk to you, it’s not like I'm asking to barge into your life." By now, you were sure the way his voice rose attracted stares. Loud as always, just like you remembered it.
"You want to talk? Fine, Sunghoon. Let’s talk about how you abandoned me the second I became a liability in your perfect life." Your words were meant to sting, god, you hoped they did. You didn’t want to be associated with him, but you sure hoped he’d feel how hurt you were when he abandoned you with nothing.
"Listen, it wasn’t my choice, okay?" He ran a hand through his hair, slightly shifting. He wasn’t the best to argue with, not when everything was about him. "You knew from the start my mom didn’t like you, I would lose everything—"
There it was. The selfish need to keep his perfect life together. You were glad to see it clearly destroyed.
"That’s the problem, Sunghoon!" You exclaimed, gripping his arm as you dragged him between one of the bottom bunks. "What about me? Your fucking baby, Sunghoon? I lost my family, I didn’t have a decent place to live for months, I was terrified. Do you know how much I needed you?"
Despite the fact your voice was ushered, the delivery was still wounded. Your eyes blazed with intensity, Sunghoon’s eyes were no less intense.
"I’m here now, listen, I’m sorry. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?" He snapped, hands thrown up in the air despite the tight grip on his own lunchbox. "Why are you acting like all of this is my fault? You were the one who spread your legs for me in the first place, this is also your fault."
Your eyes widened, visibly so. Sunghoon quieted down as if he realized what he had said, but he didn’t take it back. You knew he was too prideful to back down and apologize, it was just how he was.
"You don’t get to hurt me and come acting confused, you know what you did." Your words were punctuated by a jab of your finger against his chest, those words snapped something inside of you. The tears that pricked the corner of your eyes were unwelcome, you were trying your best to seem firm, strong. "You lied to my face, and you expect me to forgive you like I owe you something when you abandoned me— us, when things got slightly hard?"
Sunghoon always had a way to breach through every fortified barrier.
His hand gripped your wrist firmly, eyes locking onto yours in a way you couldn’t describe if he was regretting this, approaching you, or if he was angry. He had always been a box full of mystery. "Don’t look at me, I don’t want to talk to you, don’t even try to apologize."
You pulled your wrist away from his hold, he didn’t reply, not because he didn’t have a comeback but because apparently for once he seemed to realize you were right.
"Yeah, maybe I spread my legs for you. But I wasn’t the one who panicked and tore the trust of someone who needed me when they were at their lowest, did I?" Your vision blurred, your fingers were white from gripping that lunchbox you wanted to throw against the wall so tight.
You looked away from his face not because you couldn’t handle the emptiness in it, but because the fact you meant nothing to him still hurt, especially when he used to be your whole world.
"I wanted to get the hell out of here." You breathed out, wiping the tears that never fell with the sleeves of your uniform, after an eternity you looked at him in the eyes again. "You just made it more difficult for me. Do us both a favor and don’t talk to me again."
You didn’t wait for a response, all those months of swearing you felt nothing but bitter resentment over him cracked under the pressure of the fact you never truly got over the heartbreak, life moved on so fast it that ‘getting over’ was just a word you used as a bandaid on a bullet hole.
The tears burned hot on your throat, you forced them down because you couldn’t afford to break down here. You sucked in a deep breath maybe once or twice, making yourself seem indifferent as you met your group back at the bunk beds again.
"Y/N, there you are!" Beomgyu waved, ushering you to sit down. You sat on a lower step beneath Soobin, next to Kai, not wasting time in opening your lunch box despite your already gone appetite.
"What took you so long? You left before us and still took longer to come back." Yeonjun asked as he shoved a mouthful of meat inside his mouth, you shrugged, not meeting his gaze as you took a bite of the egg. "Had to use the bathroom."
The excuse was doable, pregnant women needed to use the bathroom a lot, it wasn’t surprising they bought the excuse. Soobin hadn’t said anything, not really.
He stayed quieter, watching as you avoided speaking much, eating your food quietly.
He didn’t speak as he wordlessly slipped his egg into your box, acting as if nothing had happened.
"You have to stop giving me your food." You addressed him with a slightly serious look and a frown, the conversation cut short. "You need to eat too, Soobin."
"Pregnant women need protein." Soobin shrugged, acting as if it was no big deal.
As if sparking a realization across the others, Kai face palmed right after having gobbled his egg down with a mouthful of rice. "Shit, sorry, I didn’t even think of that! I was seriously so hungry."
"Dude, how do you just forget that?! Shouldn’t she be a priority?" Beomgyu groaned, swatting Kai’s shoulder in a playful scold. "She took too long to come back, how was I supposed to remember? Cut me some slack!"
You chuckled, shaking your head. "It’s fine, Kai. I’m eating for two but I’m not starving." You reassured, even as you spent the next minute trying to talk Taehyun and Yeonjun into keeping their eggs.
You still ended up with their eggs, and they ended up with a satisfied look on their faces.
It wasn’t hard to form some sort of bond with them, not when they were so carefree and so comfortable with showing who they were. Maybe the life or death circumstances eases you into it, but by the time each lunchbox was empty, you knew more about them than you knew about your own parents— adoptive or not.
Yeonjun had previously served in the military as a sergeant, which honestly, you didn’t doubt. You knew something about him was slightly superior, not above anyone else but his abilities clearly were. He said he had some surgeries he had to get done, and owed some loan sharks because he previously borrowed money to get some of them already done.
Beomgyu was drowning in college loans, owed money to shark loans because he wanted to keep studying, and thus ended up here. Kai had his parent’s debts passed on to him once they died not too long ago, and he wasn’t the best financially. You also found out that he was the youngest amongst the group.
Taehyun lost his company and life after his soon to be wife died before their wedding. With debts to pay off and contracts still holding up, he came into the games in hopes to find a solution to at least something in his life. Soobin was in a similar spot to Taehyun’s, except his mother was ill.
You didn’t get much from him, at least not yet. He spared most of the details saying it was a long story.
"What do you guys want to do when we get out of here?" Beomgyu’s voice sounded like it carried more longing than certainty.
You wished you didn’t know why, but all of you did.
"Considering that the amount of money was already somewhat enough for me in the last game, I’d probably try to find a stable place to live in and raise my daughter." You admit, a flash of imagination passing through your head.
Your daughter, bundled up in a crib as you sat down next to her absentmindedly humming. Well fed, alive, living in a house full of warmth and growing up knowing she’s loved. That’s what you wanted for her.
"I want to get my surgeries done and debts paid off," His hands were a bit restless on the fabric of his pants, you didn’t pry when he was being vague. "Maybe move to jeju and live comfortably afterwards, I’ve always wanted to go to jeju."
"That sounds lovely, hyung." Kai chirped, knees pressed close to his chest. "If I have money after paying off the loan sharks, I would definitely visit you in jeju."
Your chest ached with something bittersweet. You just wanted to get out of here, they didn’t deserve the fate that wasn’t theirs to control.
"Then maybe we could all have a meal at Yeonjun hyung’s house!" Beomgyu suddenly exclaimed, eyes crinkling at the corners in the way it did whenever he smiled too broadly. "I could even bring my board games, and we could all play after having a good meal!"
"That doesn’t sound so bad." Taehyun nodded, an easy smile on his face. "Have you already asked Yeonjun hyung, though? You’re making plans for him."
Beomgyu’s voice faltered, embarrassment clear in his expression before he picked himself back up. "Aish, he doesn’t have a choice, we’re basically family here! Who denies family?"
"You still should have asked first, Beomgyu." Yeonjun teased, holding a strict face before it broke in a chuckle. "It’d be a pleasure to have all of you over."
"I could help you with the food." You offered, face resting against the palm of your hand. "I’m not the best at board games, but I know how to cook some stuff."
"But before that, you really should see a doctor as soon as we’re out of here." Taehyun suggested, leaning forward a bit. "You’ve been under a lot of stress, you need to get yourself checked out."
"I’ll make sure of it." You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek.
"We should stay in contact after this whole thing is over, it’ll be nice to have people who understand what we went through around us." Soobin added.
For a moment, you felt at ease. The true nature of this game and the greed that was overpowering in this room seemed like nothing, like a pressure was lifted off of your back.
Maybe family wasn’t about blood or how long you knew each other, it was more about being there when the other needs you the most.
"We can even help Y/N with the baby, make things easier for her. Being a single mom isn’t easy." Yeonjun suggested, but before the conversation could progress further, the familiar buzz of the doors opening whenever the guards came in reached your ears, snapping you from the bubble of comfort you had all been in.
"Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game."
You started to hate the way they stood unnaturally still, like this didn’t phase them. It was sick.
"Here are the results of the second game." Like last time, he pressed on the button that made the piggy bank come down and hover above your heads. The digital thrilling sound was loud in a room where everyone held their breaths, the cash prize in total and per person kept rising, you truly wondered how did they manage to keep and make so much money.
The golden hue painted the darkness of the room, the cash falling within the piggy bank glimmered inside of your eyes. The music intensified, only to abruptly stop when the last stack of cash fell inside. "In the second game, 110 players were eliminated. The prize money accumulated up to this point is 20.1 Billion. Since there are 255 players remaining, the share per each person is 78,823,530 won."
It was more than enough for you, you could get out of here with the money and build a comfortable life.
"What the hell? It’s still under 80 million?" Your head snapped towards the sound of the voice, only to look towards the other side when someone else spoke up.
"Only 110 people died? Did you count them right?" A desperate woman whined in complaint, what was a comfortable amount for you barely covered the debts of most people here.
It hit you in the chest when you remembered it didn’t cover Soobin’s amount at all. You remained quiet, eyes trailing to where he stood. His jaw was set tight, his eyes were locked on the piggy bank above.
Consideration didn’t ease the inner greed no matter how kind a soul was, deep down, everyone was selfish. The human being was designed to want more and more until it destroyed itself trying to get the most it could.
It was just a matter of how you acted upon it despite your own deep desires.
"I completely understand your disappointment, however, we always keep the door open for you to pursue new opportunities." The guard cut through the complaining voices.
You knew what this meant. Considering how so many people survived and how they were incredulous by the amount of cash, you were sure some would change their minds and keep playing.
"You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not." The guard proceeded, the door behind him opening as another group of masked people wearing the pink uniforms walked in holding the voting box. It was carefully set like last time, in the middle of the room. "Whether to continue the games for a bigger prize or to stop here is entirely your choice. Please feel free to exercise your right to choose in a democratic manner."
You looked at each one of them, you were sure that for most part their debts weren’t covered at all with this amount. You didn’t blame them for the blue patches most of them sported. Yeonjun had voted to stay during the last voting, Taehyun and Beomgyu did too. Only you, Kai, and Soobin had voted against the games.
Still, the idea of them voting to stay was chilling. You knew their motives, asking them to vote against something when they needed the money was selfish.
"Don’t worry, we’ll get out of here." You heard Soobin say as he leaned down from behind you, and while you couldn’t see his face entirely, you already knew what it would look like. "Even if it takes one more game, even if it takes hard decisions, we’ll get out of here. I’m sure they want to stop too."
"This time, the vote will begin with player 001." The masked guard instructed once everything had been set up like before, every player standing a few feet away from the voting machine and not on a particular side just yet. "Player 001, please cast your vote."
You couldn’t help the nervousness as your eyes raked over Taehyun’s form, who looked at each one of you in the eye and stepped forward with a serious face. He pushed through people in the crowd, stared at the machine before him, and pressed the X button.
His patch was removed wordlessly as he exchanged the blue for red, walking towards the red side of the room. While standing there, he specifically caught your eyes. A slow smile spread there, and he raised his fingers in a thumbs up motion.
It wasn’t a calculated smile anymore, at least, it didn’t feel like one.
One by one, the players started to walk up to the voting machine. The first two players had already voted against the games, the hope sparked up quickly as you stood there. Even as the number of people who wanted to continue raked up, it was a constant tie. People who voted to continue changed minds, but so did people who voted to go against the games at first.
"Player 120, please cast your vote."
Beomgyu looked at each one of you, just like Taehyun had before he left. He looked conflicted, but he still pushed out an easy smile. "Choi Beomgyu." Yeonjun called out, not scolding, not mad, just.. tense. Like everyone else was. Especially when the score that marked the number of people who wanted to stay showed they were winning.
"Don’t get any ideas up there, alright? We’ll find a way once we’re out of here."
Beomgyu swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he nodded and muttered something incoherent before he was in front of the voting machine.
He didn’t press X right away. You watched as he lifted his head up to stare at the scoreboard, his hand hovering between both buttons.
The blue light shone across his face, his decision was sealed when he pressed the blue button and kept his patch, walking over to the blue side. He hadn’t even dared to look at all of you.
You didn’t try to look for him either, you couldn’t act like you had him figured out when you met him today. You refused to get attached.
That was what you told yourself when you looked at Kai, who was as scared as you were. You thought of the same thing as you looked at the back of Taehyun’s head, who was turned to the O side. When you meet the sharp set of Yeonjun’s jaw, another player gets called forward.
Your eyes didn’t reach Soobin. His hand reached for yours first.
It was wordless, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing over your knuckles just like he did when you were playing Green light, Red light. His touch doesn’t burn, it doesn’t bruise.
It does something far more harmful than that, it breaches through the rational side of you. The side that was rooted on the thought of ever liking the idea of someone again, the side that was sure that you wouldn’t ever unravel under someone’s hold again.
Kai was next. Despite the fact that he had been slightly shaken up, he pressed X and moved to stand next to Taehyun. You could tell Kai was particularly fond of Beomgyu, those two were bickering and chattering at every single chance they got, and Kai was the closest to him despite the fact he was nice to everyone.
You could only imagine how much that stung.
"Everyone!" Your head snapped up at the sound of that voice, it was Taehyun. He seemed fed up, no. He looked pissed, far more angry than you could imagine he’d ever get. "Just what the hell are you doing, voting to stay? You’re paying to see people die and you could be next! We’ll all die if you keep going like this!"
His nostrils flared as he took in a breath, looking at the crowd of players who hadn’t voted yet. "Come to your senses and leave with this amount of money, you have to survive first or you won’t even be there to try to figure out what to do when you’re out of here!"
"And what the hell do you think we can do with a mere 70 million?"
You knew that voice. You recognized it first before you had to look at his face.
Sunghoon, standing there and walking up to Taehyun like he was in the right, like the choice to keep going was superior. He had always been close minded, selfish in a way that felt rotten. You weren’t sure how you manage to stay so long with someone who would rather kill than to ever fail.
"I don’t know how much you owe, but for most people here, that shit doesn’t even cover 5% of the debt they’re in." His voice was sharp, meant to convince. "Or am I wrong? Because unless your debt is incredibly small, there’s no next step. That money won’t change anything in our lives!"
And the worst part is that everyone— well, most people as far as you could see, were agreeing with him. "It was 25 million before the last game and now it’s 78 million! After just one more game, the amount could triple."
Just one more game, they said. But they didn’t think about the terrified looks of people who didn’t want to die to become an asset to the winner.
"If we play one more game, the prize will be at least 240 million!"
You swallowed hard, it felt like when you were eating and swallowed too quickly. When your food lodged inside your throat and got stuck in your chest. You couldn’t help the way you squeezed Soobin’s hand.
"But I can’t do this anymore." A teary, cracking voice called out. Your eyes flickered to a young lady, player 036, who was already crying. Your heart twisted in your chest, not because you were scared alone, but because she looked extremely hopeless. "Please— please let me get out of here. I really want to go home."
You pressed your lips together, fighting the tears that have been trying to leave you since the first game. You suppressed them to the best of your abilities, not wanting to crack underneath the hardened gazes of so many people. But you couldn’t deny how painful her sobs were.
You looked away, looking anywhere but at her face. "I don’t want to die."
"Well, don’t get fucking scared!" Another loud voice erupted, bearing rage and boisterous confidence all at once. "Ddakji, spinning top, Green light Red light, it’s not like the games are designed to be hard or impossible."
"He’s right. There are still 255 players, which means more than half of us survived!" You cringed, trying to not recoil into yourself at how sure both of them sounded, especially Sunghoon.
Out of every place where your past could have picked to haunt you, they chose a place where the place in itself could be considered a layer of hell on earth. "We’ve made it this far, so let’s do this one more time!"
Your knees felt like jelly underneath your body, eyes locked onto Sunghoon as booming voices everywhere started to shout and cheer for one more game. But even amongst all that chaos, his eyes met yours. He didn’t look like he regretted it, it wasn’t like him to regret anything. But he looked at you with a form of longing that made you want to dig a hole beneath you and become one with the ground.
You missed the way Soobin cursed under his breath, but surely not the way he came closer. His hand was warm on the small of your back now that he had fully let go of your hand that was starting to sweat. He wasn’t trying to be too touchy, just trying to make sure you still managed to see you weren’t alone.
Because there weren’t words to comfort someone when you’re terrified of death yourself.
By the time it was Yeonjun’s turn to vote, you already knew you would have to face near death tomorrow again. You weren’t angry, nor did you express being particularly panicked, but you felt like your head was underwater.
Everything hurt, the panic was clawing at your throat like barbed wire tightly wrapped around it. The anger blended with the horror and fear and mixed inside your chest as it constricted with every breath. If you knew that your desperate need for money would lead to being stuck in a place where your life was relying on people who wanted to stay or leave, you wouldn’t have gone to that godforsaken park that night.
"The results of the voting are 139 for O and 116 for X. Based on majority voting, we’ll proceed to the third game tomorrow. Thank you for your cooperation."
Your eyes flickered towards Beomgyu who stood on the O side, he met it but avoided it right after. No one spoke as the lights came back on.
Awkwardness was bound to kill all of you as you sat in silence. Each one of you sported a red patch on the right side of your chest, but someone was missing. Beomgyu was sitting between two bunks not too far away before bedtime arrived, cross legged and every now and then glancing towards you. He looked almost like a kicked puppy.
Kai had obviously been the first one to speak up. While you knew how much dread he probably felt, you knew he wouldn’t hold it against Beomgyu.
"Beomgyu hyung!" Kai called out, leaning backwards in order to get a clearer view of Beomgyu. "Man.. what the hell." Kai sighed, you watched in silence as his hands slapped against his thighs, standing up as his feet clattered against the metal.
Towards Beomgyu.
"Yah, stop hiding, just come back here." He ordered, a frown painting his lips.
"No, I’m good right here." Beomgyu reassured, but he looked more anxious and guilty than fine.
"Oh, come on. If you wanted to stay away you would have sat far away from us." Kai insisted as he hoisted Beomgyu up by the arm, dragging him back towards the group. "It bothers me seeing you sitting there looking pathetic."
Yeonjun cleared his throat, not even meeting Beomgyu’s eyes as he stood there without knowing what to do or say. It took a while, but the apology came.
"I’m sorry." His body was bowed down incredibly low before he stood up straight, it was a little funny, you couldn’t lie. But you let him speak. "Yeonjun hyung, Taehyun, Y/N, Soobin hyung. I’m sorry."
The silence was no help to the poor guy, he looked like he was trying to fetch excuses to explain his choice from the back of his mind. Still, you didn’t condemn his choice, you just stayed silent. "My loans are high, and even if I managed to cover them with all this money I still would be starving and wouldn’t be able to focus in class. I’d just fail." A nervous laughter left him, but it was cut short. "If I play one more game, I’m sure I’ll be able to settle my debt."
"Beomgyu, you out of all people shouldn’t have picked to continue." Yeonjun’s voice wasn’t angry, it just felt.. Well, he looked disappointed. "You were the one that suggested having a meal together once we got out, that gave us the most hope of getting out together. But honestly, even if you voted against it, we’d still have lost."
His lips zipped in a tight line, head hanging low.
"I understand why you did it." Soobin declared as he finally looked at Beomgyu properly, he out of all people would understand. "That money isn’t nearly enough for me, either. I would have voted to stay too but.."
His eyes fell onto you, you looked at him before looking away, not holding eye contact too much. "Whenever I think of the fact that she deserves a better life with her daughter and deserves to get out of here the most out of every single one of us in this group, I made up my mind to go against it again." He takes a short pause, letting the words soak in before he expressed more of them with his fingers as he pushed a few strands away from your face. That smile of his, the familiar one full of reassurance and warmth, slowly appeared again. "Between the money and Y/N leaving well off and being able to have her baby, I’d leave with any amount of money, no matter how little."
"God, you get it— some of it." Beomgyu cried out, the acceptance was light but unmistakable in the atmosphere. "Thank you for understanding, I swear I voted to go again also because I felt so confident, we did good as a team so if we stay together, I’m sure we’ll be fine!"
"What if we have to kill each other in the next game?" Taehyun asked monotonously, not mad, but curious. "What would we do?"
"I think that’s pushing it, Taehyun." You proposed instead, but your demeanor was still grim. "Even then, there isn’t much we can do. We have to stay positive and find a strategy once the next game comes around."
Bedtime arrived with a much lighter atmosphere hanging in the air and between all of you, the lullaby ringing in the PA systems a reminder as most players retreated to their bunks. But you and the others decided to apply a new strategy, just in case.
While talking, Taehyun had been the one to mention that considering how much they wanted others to die, there was a possibility of an attack. You stood to the side watching as Soobin maneuvered a mattress between two empty bunks on the floor, a precaution and also easier to stay together as a team.
"Do we really have to do this?" Kai asked with a tired sigh as he kicked the edge of the mattress to fit the corner against the standing metal piece of the bunk.
"The prize money will go up if someone dies, I’m sure that also includes if we kill each other." Taehyun explained, you didn’t fight it, just grabbed a few blankets and pillows to try and make your mattress more comfortable.
"We should take turns to stay watching at night for suspicious behavior, then. Shouldn’t we?" Soobin said as he propped a mattress up against the top railing of a bunk to create a sort of wall. "To stay safe, it’s only logical.. I can also take the first watch since I’m not that tired."
Sleep didn’t come easy to you despite all of the protections and the set up. You shifted uncomfortably on the bunk, feeling dread crawl up your spine and clog your throat full of emotion.
Your mind flashed back to that girl, player 036. She was so young.. she looked younger than you, even. Younger than Kai if you had to be honest.
You hated that you could picture her dead, and how your mind was already adapting to your surroundings.
Slowly, you stood up. Everyone was asleep aside from Soobin, just like how he said. "Excuse me," you whispered, feet padding quietly against the mattress. "I need to go to the bathroom."
Soobin looked at you like he felt conflicted, while he didn’t want you to go by yourself, you could tell he felt bad by denying your request up front. "It’s too dangerous to go by yourself." He whispered back.
"I’ll go with you." Your head shifted to the sound of the feminine voice, it was that same girl who had been crying earlier today during voting. Her hair slipped past her shoulders, it would have covered her face had it not been for the fact that she had some tucked behind her ear. Her smile was genuine, warm. You could tell she meant well.
Soobin looked at her, then at you, and hesitantly nodded. Slight worry was rolling off of him in waves, it made you feel warmer inside.
"Be back as soon as you can, alright? If you feel anything odd, anything at all, come back." Was all he said, you agreed and walked past him towards the door that led to the big staircase with that girl.
Your knuckles were firm but not too loud against the metal of the door, it didn’t take much before a circle guard opened the door. "Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom."
"Bathroom visits are not permitted at night." The circle guard replied in a practiced way, like many players have asked him this before. You wouldn’t press, you didn’t plan to, anyways. Rules were rules.
"Hey, no, don’t close that thing on us." The young lady beside you pressed before the guard could disappear behind the coverage of the glass. "Can’t you have a bit of empathy? Don’t you have sisters?" She scolded, eyes firm and strong. "She’s pregnant, if you can’t tell. So can’t you find it in yourself for once to open the door and let a pregnant woman use the bathroom?"
You didn’t get a reply, you thought you would be ignored, but the door clicked open. She smiled at you, gesturing for you to walk first, and so you did. One guard holding a gun led you two towards the bathrooms, you opted to stay quiet, and you would have for the rest of the way if she hadn’t started talking to you.
"What’s your name, miss? I’ve seen you around, I just kept forgetting to come talk to you." She chirped, voice upbeat despite the fact she was crying hours ago. "My name’s Wonhee! You’re pregnant, right? I don’t want to offend you if you’re not."
You nodded, she had a gentle tone but careful still like she was walking around glass, you couldn’t blame her. "That’s a pretty name." You paused, more focused on the strain of your legs than the conversation within every step. "I’m Y/N, and yes, I’m pregnant. Don’t worry." You smiled, feet finally meeting a level ground as you two walked towards the bathrooms. "Thank you for coming with me."
"No worries! I needed to use the bathroom anyway, might as well come with someone who looks trustworthy, right?" Wonhee chuckled, it rang out calmly in your ears despite the fact you felt like someone pushed your head underwater and kept it there.
"Right." You nodded.
You were the first to step inside the bathroom, it seemed bigger and yet suffocating at the same time now that it was just you and her. The teal tiles blurred as you pushed one of the stalls open, closing it behind you.
You really wanted to get the hell out of here.
No amount of protection, as well intended as it was, inside of the main room would ease the way you felt like you would die anytime, like someone could backstab you at any given time and everything you’ve fought for would just be in vain. You had been trying to be strong since the first splatter of innocent blood on your shoes.
No one is innocent here, maybe they did horrible things, but they were killed in cold blood. These people had families, people who relied on them and were waiting for them. They would never come back and the fact that you maybe would never get to meet your daughter, a moment you’ve yearned for when you accepted that no one would save you but yourself.
And Soobin.
Your eyes inevitably watered up at the memory of the gentleness and carefulness his eyes held. They were like the color of wood whenever it burnt out after a cozy evening spent with laughter and the roast of marshmallows, when all that was left was the lingering memories and the laughter that stayed in the air as everyone retreated. The color when the fire died and all that was left was the remnant of what once was.
You weren’t sure why he stayed, nor why he was so determined to keep you safe, right by his side. Every brush of his hand against you to guide you, to ground you, made your heart beat in a way it scared you. Not only because you didn’t want to feel like this towards someone as nice as he was, but because you knew he would end up dead.
You could picture him lying there drenched in blood because of you, it was bound to happen at some point. Eyes so full of love and life glazing over with a faraway look, lips parted but no words coming out.
Your body shook in a way it felt like everything that physically hurt despite you having no wounds. Hand shaky against your mouth as the tears finally left you, tears of horror and longing and everything at once burned down your cheeks. You gasped for air the best you could through your muffled sobs, it was only natural you’d feel terrified, but breaking down and having it used against you was a different kind of pain you didn’t want to go through.
He was still in your mind, it didn’t matter whether it was the dead version or the alive one who coaxed you into safety. You had known him for three days if you had to be real with yourself, and even if it had been more time than that, you were shattered, and in a way, used. No one would want someone like you, who met and saw the kindness in people and still braced yourself for a knife on the back or kept others not too close to where your heart was just in case they decided to leave you abruptly.
You weren’t sure when the lines of being nice and wanting him became blurred, especially in such a short time.
And then there was Sunghoon, where out of all places you could’ve seen him again, he decided to appear here. It was like having a knife lodged inside your chest and twisted slowly to make sure you felt pain. Eyes burning from the tears that wouldn’t stop even if you wanted them to.
You felt bitter. Despite everything, all you wanted was for him to disappear fully. Become a ghost in your life, not to become a constant reminder that you were easily replaceable— god. You felt like you were back in the day you found his instagram post all over again in another account you made. A new girl wrapped around his arm standing in a boat with big smiles on both of their faces. All while you were losing your mind trying to find out how to ration out your last bit of food while sleeping in benches at parks.
"Y/N?" The worried voice breached through the trenches of the despair you felt, all of the pain and the fear you felt. "Are you okay? I heard crying, can you let me in?"
You barely knew her, she was probably equally just as terrified and yet she wanted to help. Your hand was shaky as you let it drop to your lap, a sob finally tearing through your chest now audible enough. Before she could knock or question again, you opened the stall.
She gasped when she looked at the sight of you, you no doubt looked horrible. Eyes red rimmed and tears running down your cheeks, snot wet on your sleeve as you wiped it away again. Your breath was short, quicker than usual.
Her knees met the floor without hesitation, even as it looked filthy. "Are you in pain? Oh god, is the baby coming? Should I get a guard to try to get you a doctor— do they even have doctors here?!"
"I’m scared." Your voice wobbled, pressing your lips in a tight line. It felt silly to open up like this when Wonhee had been crying so hard herself out of fear hours ago. But the tears wouldn’t stop, nor would the sobs that teared through you, shaking your body with their strength like you were actually hurt. "I’m so fucking scared."
SOOBIN REMAINED SAT on the same spot he had been ever since you left to go to the bathroom with that girl. The uneasiness settled in after what felt like ten minutes, why hadn’t you come back yet? While that girl didn’t look harmful and had been also trying to go home during voting and the fact that she was young, you couldn’t trust too many people. But if the only way was to have you go with her, then it had to work.
His eyes felt locked on the door like they could actually open it if he looked too hard.
His stomach twisted as he looked at the side of the O players. The bunks were noticeably more filled out on their side rather than the X side, and tomorrow you would have to play. While he said that as a way of slightly reprimanding Beomgyu, what if this game put you against him without you both even knowing?
You were strong, that was no doubt, but it wasn’t hard to see the fear in your eyes. Your hands were sweaty against his all the way through voting, your pulse felt rapid, and you couldn’t focus too much on one thing. Maybe he was over analyzing you, but he couldn’t take seeing you so scared— and being powerless to change it.
Your eyes were heavy before you left to the bathroom, the smile you gave him had instantly dropped as soon as you turned around to go to the bathroom. Shoulders hunched and hands on your bump in a familiar way, you were distraught, maybe even hopeless.
All because some people valued money over life.
Soobin was certain that between you and him, if someone would have to die in this place, it would be him.
"Hyung?" The whisper was tentative just like the footsteps were, like KAI was trying to make himself noticeable enough against the loud metal beneath his feet but also keep quiet in order to not wake up anyone. "I don’t want to disturb you but.. you look distraught."
"I’m fine, really." Soobin reassured, despite his worries and himself, he still managed a smile as he offered Kai a spot to sit next to him. "Aren’t you tired? We can exchange shifts if you want, tomorrow’s a new game."
Soobin looked back at the door, you still hadn’t come back. He shifted in place, considering his words. He was tired, and it had been a while since he had been on watch, but you weren’t back yet.
"Is this about Y/N?" Kai mumbled as he took a seat next to Soobin, the mention of your name making him snap his head towards Kai like he had been summoned back to reality. "What is?"
Soobin’s throat felt like dry parchment, hard to swallow. He had always prided himself in keeping his emotions under check and not burden anyone with them, but maybe anything towards you was slowly wrestling itself into becoming more visible.
"Hyung, can I be honest?" The younger took a pause, darting his eyes to the floor like he was mustering up words as Soobin nodded. "I think you two like each other. And I don’t mean this because you want her to get out, but I just don’t think friends look at each other like they’re the only thing that matters when everyone around them is dying."
Those words touched something inside Soobin he wasn’t aware was inside of him. Realizing and bringing out something he had been neglecting because— being real, it didn’t matter how much he tried to prevent your death, you probably would die if he slipped up. "Me and her? Kai, we’re in the middle of a game that’s basically suicide."
"I don’t think love stops for death." It was like he knew what to say, Kai was one of the most upbeat members of the team, the youngest one. To say that he had been analyzing the details like he had been analyzing you felt.. shocking. But it made him feel seen. Understood. "What I mean to say is that if you love her, then say it before any of you.."
Kai’s words stopped, cut short at the implication that wasn’t hard to understand.
"You never know, hyung. But if tomorrow was your last day or her last day, I think it might be worth telling her." The youngest suggested as he flashed Soobin a small smile— sleepy, but still kind, free of judgement.
Could strangers fall in love or was it desperation? Was he just scared to die alone, and never have confessed to someone? To not feel the lips of someone against his one last time before death kissed his own?
The door opened loudly, announcing your arrival. Even from afar, he could catch the way your eyes were red rimmed, your face was blotchy and your hair tied back. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes and it physically made him ache.
Because he couldn’t take that look away from you, not when the circumstances didn’t allow it. And because you were still sickeningly beautiful. You still glowed despite the exhaustion, the fear.
You were one of the strongest women he knew, Soobin thought. His heartbeat fluttering enough for him to pick up.
It wasn’t just desperation, it wasn’t desire. But the urge to take you in his arms and make you feel safe. The urge to see you smile as you held your baby, to.. be there when you were in so much pain trying to bring new life to the world, squeezing his hand to push through the haze of pain.
Maybe Kai was right, love didn’t wait for death, nor did it fear it. "I’ll let you take the shift now." Soobin said simply, Kai didn’t need to reply to know what was going on. He didn’t shift, just sat and remained there, quiet and watching.
He waited for you, not going to his mattress despite the fact he was sleeping under the metal of a bunk bed right next to yours. When your eyes met, neither of you broke eye contact.
It was almost muscle memory as his hand reached for yours, warm and alive still beneath his own. He knew you knew he had noticed, even under the dim golden lighting that kept the things in the main room visible, it wasn’t hard to know you were crying.
"Were you crying?" Soobin breathed out, sat cross legged in front of you on your mattress. Your silence hurt him more than any words you could say did, because it was something he felt like he couldn’t fix.
Your skin was warm and damp underneath his hand as his free hand cupped your cheek, thumb caressing it as if memorizing how the sensation felt. "Please, don’t shut me out." The crack in his voice felt uncalled for, but it made everything feel more real.
"Stop looking at me like that, please." Your voice was small, almost as if you were trying to wrestle your words into feeling real.
He swallowed. "Like how?"
"Like you won’t leave too, like you’re not just doing things just because." This time, you finally broke eye contact. Soobin’s breath caught in his throat as you gently, almost hesitantly, pushed his hand off of your face. "Please, just stop. You’re going to die acting like you’d rather keep me safe than to get that money."
Soobin didn’t know whether he should feel offended or if he should be concerned, or if he should feel both at once. "What do you mean? Y/N, you’re not making any sense." Soobin insisted, eyes searching while still keeping his voice gentle, never once raising it.
"You’re acting like you mean it, but the second shit hits the fan, you’re also going to leave. Aren’t you?" You hissed, his eyes didn’t miss the way something wet hit the mattress again, and then again, steady. "I’m not ready to have my hopes raised again only for you to bail on me last minute, so please stop."
"You really think I’m playing with my own words to have your hopes raised up?" As incredulous as Soobin sounded, he kept his words true. Shifting closer even as everything in him begged to just drop it.
Soobin never had someone to care for like this in life, his dad abandoned him from a young age, his siblings left abroad for college and work and never came back. The only person in his heart had been his mother, and when she fell ill, Soobin never thought he would find someone who would fix a piece of him when his whole world was crumbling.
You were a mess yourself, but a mess with a smile that was worth sparking. Defiance and strength above your own fears, but also empathy when you saw someone needed something to make their heart settle at ease. You were avoidant, wounded, just like he was.
And still, your hearts still beat in sync towards the same emotion.
"That’s ridiculous." Soobin laughed, not in a dismissive way but because he couldn’t believe what you had said. You still hadn’t looked at him, you looked like you were trying to convince yourself that you wanted him to stay away. "Y/N, please look at me."
He begged, because god, you not looking at him because you couldn’t handle the reality of what was blooming around the two of you was worse than not speaking to him.
"Please, just— just look at me, don’t act like this is already set in stone."
His jaw tightened as he watch you wipe your tears away, finally meeting his eyes in a look that felt like hurt, like something had been hurt a long time ago and hadn’t yet been healed. And despite the way his own world was in shambles, he wanted, no. He needed to somehow take away that look in your eyes, he wanted to grab every single broken piece even if it took time and to put it back together.
You didn’t deserve to spend your life feeling like a shattered mirror.
"Cry if you want to, but don’t act like this is nothing. Like you aren’t hurt, even if you won’t tell me, don’t try to hide this from me." He breathed, and that seemed to be enough to make more of the bitter tears you had released before coming back come out.
"He’s here, you know." You managed out in a strained voice, like speaking in itself hurt you. "Her father, he’s here. He said he would find a way but he freaked out, he left me when I needed him the most. Do you know how long it took me to pick a small part of myself up to keep going after that?"
"If one of us had to leave this place alive, i’d make sure it would be you." He whispered those words like they were sacred, he wasn’t trying to comfort, he was trying to make you see. "Y/N, I’m not him. I can’t imagine how much of your trust he broke, but don’t try to act like his actions are my actions."
Your mouth opened, then closed. The stream of tears kept coming, but the words that sounded desperate didn’t anymore. Soobin noticed his words stung, maybe ruptured something or made you realize another, but your sob came way more easily now, like there was nothing else to hide.
"You don’t even know me, Soobin. Not enough to want to die for me." Your breath hitched, but even as your tears fell and as you broke, Soobin still found you to be one of the best things that ever came into his life.
"No, but I know you enough to realize you deserve to live. That between you and me, you deserve a better life. To have your daughter and to finally be at peace." His smile was easy, his eyes memorizing details on your face like he was trying to sear the sight of you into his mind. The messy, broken side you tried to hide for so long. His hands were tentative, not quite touching, but shaky as he lifted it up from his lap.
His heart was almost beating out of his throat when you didn’t push his hand away from your face again. Both of them cupping both of your cheeks, chasing the tears away as you broke further, but not in a way that screamed you’re rubbing salt in an old wound.
"Even if you’re scared, even if he’s here as a reminder, let all of that out here. As long as I’m here, you’ll have somewhere soft to fall without everything suffocating you."
Soobin didn’t need grand dates or expensive gifts to show that he cared, not when he didn’t leave when you showed the cracked, ugly side of yourself. Not when he held you like he never wanted to let go, or when he trailed his fingers down your spine that night like memorizing how you felt against him was the only thing that mattered.
You were asleep by the time he kissed your forehead and whispered "If only things were different, I’d tell you how much I’m falling for you until you asked me to shut up about it."
You were ruining him, and Soobin was acutely aware of it.
THE NEXT DAY blurred, the only reason you knew it was the third day was because you were moving on to the third game. Your head was pounding from the crying from last night, the fear didn’t leave— death was still looming over you.
But things felt slightly lighter when you had someone to share that burden with.
Soobin hasn’t left your side this morning, he has been attentive, watching. Like usual, handing you food and keeping himself fueled with liquids. As bad as you felt, you were sure he wouldn’t let you go against his choice.
Walking these steps were a living nightmare to your burning muscles, they were never ending. Soobin’s hand was firm, reassuring on the small of your back as he gave you a slight push each step. Kai and Beomgyu were already cracking jokes to each other to try and keep the atmosphere light, but you could still tell they were scared. Yeonjun was exchanging a few words with Soobin and you hadn’t bothered to join the conversation, not really.
Taehyun was quiet, but it was something you grew used to. You got it, really. Feeling out of place in conversations or not having the energy.
What always had your gut feeling like something was wrong was the way he eyed the guards with cold eyes, not with hatred or fear, but almost superior.
Maybe you were tired, making you think things, but as nice as Taehyun was, something didn’t sit right with you.
"We’ll make it out of this one together and go home!" You heard Kai’s laughter erupt loudly, his eyes sparkling with energy as he looked at the small family you and the others found within yourself in a small group.
You would go home, all of you.
God, how you wished all of you did.
This room felt different from the others, you could tell by the marble colored walls and the yellowed lighting that wasn’t quite golden, but dim and soft. The doors in front of you were curtains as they opened like you were in a circus, and your deaths would be the show to be put on.
The guards walked in first, mechanical and controlled like they always did.
It was really themed like a circus, colorful doors all around with white walls that were adorned by red details above each door. Bows hung in places atop the doors, it was intricate, careful. Meant to convey nostalgia.. It felt surreal.
Your eyes raked over the numbers above the doors, one to a hundred. A hundred rooms and 255 players, you could tell this wouldn’t end up well before the game even started.
What really caught your attention was the centerpiece, a red and spacious platform in the center of the room with a cylinder-like fake carousel in the middle of it. Three horses were atop of it, you could tell they put their time into it. The ceiling hung high above you in white and red stripes, led lights adorned the bottom where the curve of the ceiling met the walls.
"Welcome to your third game." The woman in the PA system announced as the remaining players started to fill in the room, you could almost feel the glimmer of childlike wonder in them as they curiously analyzed the room. "The game you will be playing is Mingle."
"Let me repeat, the game you will be playing is mingle."
You stayed close to Soobin, and he didn’t let you wander off either. "Hey, we’ll be able to stay together— I told you, we would all make it out alive. Having to kill each other is a bit extreme." Beomgyu said as he looked all around him, lips parted in a ‘o’ shape as he observer the room.
"Don’t jinx it, Beomgyu." Yeonjun advised, sticking close like all of you were trying to do.
"All players, please step onto the center platform." The woman instructed as you stepped onto the levered platform in the center of the room, it was easy to misstep and sprain your ankle. You’d have to watch out. "When the game begins, the platform will begin to rotate and you’ll hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."
"I used to play mingle a lot when I was a kid." Yeonjun remembered, he wasn’t any less affected than all of you were by the room setup. "Normally on school trips or during recess, but instead of running into rooms, we hugged."
"If the number is six, then we can all just go together." Taehyun suddenly announced, looking at each and every one of you like he knew what to do but knew that in practice, this would maybe go wrong. "We’re at an even number, it’s easier. If they ask for two, we separate. Same for three. And if we’re lacking players we can find more, when we have odd numbers, the amount that needs to leave can leave and find us before the platform stalls again."
"No matter what happens, don’t panic. Try to stay calm and alive." You smiled, trying to ease your own nerves. "Let’s trust each other, and then we’ll all make it out together."
"Let the game begin." The woman cheerfully called out, Soobin subtly pressed you closer to him. A silent promise that no matter the number, you were a priority.
A cheery music from your childhood started playing as the platform started to spin like a true carousel beneath your feet, like it was meant to make you dizzy before you had to pick and choose who to go in a room with.
You’d have competition, too. Numbers weren’t your only problem. Desperate and greedy players were your main problem.
Slowly, the golden lights that made the room so nostalgic clicked off as the centerpiece lit up, also lighting up beneath your feet.
'Round and round, round and round.'
You stayed on the tip of your toes, a technique you learned to stay apt to movement when you had to run.
'Let’s go around in circles and dance. We will clap our hands and sing!'
You looked to the side, finding two people.. dancing to the tune? You weren’t sure how they hadn’t died yet.
'Lalalala, let’s have fun dancing!'
The music was grating, something meant to be so cheerful was now something you were started to dread. You were having everything but fun, tense all over as you held onto Soobin’s hand tight in case people started to try to run you over.
'Round and round.'
Suddenly the platform halted, it was abrupt and unexpected, your body wavered as you tried to regain your balance.
Time was crucial, it didn’t let you pick yourself back up.
"Ten!"
To worsen the situation, the lights completely shut off around you. Flashes of pink and blue shone overhead, it was absolute chaos. People screaming everywhere, demanding players to join them.
"We need four people!" You heard Beomgyu shout out, but as you turned around to find a man looking around, you tapped his shoulder.
"How many people?" You asked straightforwardly, urgent. "Four."
"Shit, okay— come with us, quick!" You turned towards your teammates, and without another second wasted, you were all running towards one of the colorful rooms. "Come on, we have to hurry!"
Your heart leapt on your throat, a hand holding onto your bump while the other was being held by Soobin. He was behind you, making sure you would be safe while also making sure you would reach the room in time. The door was pushed open quickly as you all moved into the room, shutting it with a loud slam like your lives depended on it.
Your eyes locked on the time in the wall that the room presented, no one spoke because the heavy breathing spoke louder than any words did. When it beeped to zero, the door automatically locked like promised.
You held your breath as you looked around the room, everyone leaning against the walls, no one dared to move. Your eyes however landed on Wonhee, who by chance was in the group of four.
You would have smiled at her had it not been for the screams outside, people crying, begging for their lives. You watched Yeonjun move to check the crack in the wall, high enough up like it was meant for players to look through and see what was going on outside.
The gunshots were sharp, cracking through the tension in the air with a promise. The screams died down, the bodies stopped thudding, but the squelching sound of blood beneath the feet of the guards was still sickening.
"Is everyone okay?" Player 127 asked tentatively, a nervous smile spreading across his face. The rest of the group consisted of another young lady and another guy, a tall one, but he didn’t look much older.
"Yeah, are you all okay?" Kai nodded frantically, trying to shake off the adrenaline and initial shock.
He still hasn’t gotten used to the gunshots.
You locked eyes with Wonhee, she wasn’t looking anywhere in particular, you could tell she was trying her best to not think too hard. When she sensed you staring, her eyes widened, and somehow she still managed to crack a smile as she moved closer.
"You’re here— are you feeling better, unnie?" She asked warmly, taking your free hand between hers. You were taken aback by the way she seemed so happy to see you, noticing your reaction, her expression became more panicked. "Sorry, I didn’t even ask if I could call you that. I’m sorry."
An easy smile spread across your face, you laughed it off and shook your head. "You can call me unnie, it’s no big deal. And yes, I'm feeling better."
The smile on her face returned, a distraction to the loud machinery outside that you assumed was meant to carry away the corpses. "You stay safe, alright?"
No other words were exchanged, not out of awkwardness, but because each of you seemed to become grim as the woman in the PA system started to announce the eliminated players on the spot. Your breath came a little quicker, hoping that as the rounds progressed, the numbers called out wouldn’t be familiar ones.
The ground was full of blood as you were allowed out of the rooms moments later, but you didn’t have much time to ponder about it as you stood on the platform again. Without a grand announcement, it started to spin again, that same song repeating.
Everything about this game left you sick.
The blood on the floor that hadn’t been cleaned yet grossed you out, but maybe that was the whole point of it. To taint your childhood with terror.
'Four!'
The lights shut above you, leaving no time for you to breathe. Soobin immediately held onto your hand, the group coming together to discuss. Wonhee had already left with the other three in her original group, making it one less thing to worry about.
"Who goes with who?!" Beomgyu asked in a frantic way, eyes darting around like he was trying to keep himself from grabbing three people and bolting towards a door.
"Soobin, Y/N, Kai, and Beomgyu. Go find a room, me and Yeonjun will meet you here next round, alright?" Taehyun declared in a voice that left no room for discussion as players ran around you. He looked at Soobin with his jaw set, a warning, or maybe a good luck wish. He knew what Soobin had been trying to do since the start.
"Take care of each other." Yeonjun added before gripping Taehyun’s arm and running off into the crowd.
"Okay, let’s go, quick!" Beomgyu blared as he already started to run. He went in front of you, Kai staggered behind you and Soobin, you rushed as fast as your feet would take you, swearing you could hear your heartbeat in your eardrums, maybe even the rush of your blood.
Beomgyu was ushering you and Soobin in, but you halted at the door as you heard a scream. Not just any scream, Kai’s scream.
Your head whipped around so quickly you swore you got whiplash, the sickening crunch of bone snapping came next. It wasn’t a scream of fear, but one full of pain.
Your heart dropped all the way to your stomach.
Kai was on the floor, kicking off another player who looked just as desperate as he was. You should’ve kept him in front of you, should have kept an eye on him. If you knew that Kai would die because he stayed behind, you would’ve held his arm just as tightly as you held Soobin’s.
You wanted to scream. Your eyes locked onto his, and god, he looked terrified.
"Come on, what the hell are you doing?!"
Before you could register it, you were pushed inside the room with a force that nearly knocked you off of your feet. The only reason you didn’t hit the wall was because Soobin was behind you.
Your eyes locked onto Sunghoon’s, painted with disbelief, the bitter taste of a second betrayal, and panic.
"What the hell did you do?!" Beomgyu screamed, breath quickening further as he tried to push Sunghoon’s hand away from the handle that he had been holding the door shut since the timer hadn’t reached zero. "Asshole, let go!"
The tears burned the back of your throat, but you didn’t move. You felt paralyzed as you watched Beomgyu throw punch after punch, but Sunghoon wouldn’t budge.
Soobin was quick to step in, not to push Sunghoon away from the door, but to hold Beomgyu back. And you knew why.
You glanced at the timer. Kai’s ankle was completely ruined, there was no way he could run inside in that situation in five seconds. He would die. And if Beomgyu opened the door, everyone here would too.
"Let me go! Fuck!" Beomgyu wailed, trying to get away from Soobin’s grip who was trying to prevent Beomgyu from suffocating Sunghoon to death on spot.
"Beomgyu, calm down—" Soobin strained, struggling to keep Beomgyu still.
He only stopped resisting when the timer finally beeped to zero. Your eyes darted towards the lock that twisted, and you knew what that meant. Beomgyu seemed like he was shaken up the most out of all of you, not moving until he heard Kai’s voice from across the door.
Soobin let him finally go as Beomgyu turned towards the crack in the wall. You stood petrified, heart splitting in two like someone was grabbing a hold of it and squeezing it apart.
"Hyung," Kai’s voice was barely above a whisper, but you could tell how scared he was. His sobs made up for what his words couldn’t. Everything seemed to slow down around you, and yet you couldn’t look away despite everything.
"Hyung, I don’t want to die."
"Kai— fuck, help me open this fucking door!" Beomgyu slammed his fists against the door, trying to reach Kai through the metal, not once did his eyes leave Kai’s. Like he was afraid that if for a split moment where he looked away, he would miss an important detail. "No, no, no. Please, Kai— you weren’t supposed to win with me!—"
Beomgyu was a wreck of sobs and shouts, the abyss between him and Kai was so close and yet so far, the difference was the room. One was salvation, the other was a fate no one prepared Kai or Beomgyu himself for.
Because Huening Kai didn’t want to die.
Huening Kai came into this game fully believing he would survive with his friends and leave right after.
"I don’t want to di—"
His words barely left his heaving chest before gunshots rang out. But this one in particular cut sharper, came unexpected, unforgiving and not caring whether he was scared or not of dying.
Kai’s eyes, once so full of life and then fear in his last few moments of death, emptied. His body stood for a little longer, his eyes still looked at Beomgyu’s eyes for a few seconds as if he intended to haunt Beomgyu. Then, only then did his body thud loudly against the ground. A gunshot can be loud, sometimes leaving a ringing in your ears. But nothing was louder than the sound of his body once full of life and strength hitting the ground.
That empty look in Kai’s eyes meant to judge every single moment of Beomgyu’s choice to keep the games going.
Beomgyu stood looking at that same crack as if Kai was still there, and maybe, somewhere in his mind, Kai didn’t die. But imagination didn’t mean reality.
You hadn’t bothered to hold yourself together. Your sobs were heavy, body wrecking, but not as heavy as Beomgyu’s. He and Kai had, in a way, a special bond. They were closer to each other than to anyone else despite the friendliness and the short time knowing each other.
He was pale, cold sweat breaking across his skin as the tears slipped down his face.
Sunghoon avoided looking at him, instead, he was staring off at a wall. You felt your blood boil, felt the anger spread around your body but deep down, you knew you would’ve died if you had waited for Kai.
Soobin didn’t even look at any of you in the eye.
When Beomgyu looked up, it wasn’t at you, it wasn’t at Soobin. His eyes were hard, unblinking despite the tears sliding down his cheeks. He stared at Sunghoon like he was his sworn enemy, and quite frankly, he was in some sense. Sunghoon avoided his gaze, clearing his throat, but not daring to speak.
"What the hell did you do?" Beomgyu breathed out, looking like he was on the verge of snapping.
Any words would’ve been better than silence, god, the way Sunghoon was avoiding him and what he did worsened the situation.
"YOU SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!" Beomgyu’s hands fisted on Sunghoon’s shirt, holding him up by the collar of his shirt and slamming him against the wall Sunghoon was closest to. "What the hell did you do?! I could have saved him, I could have went out there and dragged him inside, you were the one supposed to have that fucking bullet inside your head! It’s all your fault!"
"You really thought you could get him in here?" Sunghoon scoffed, and yet he made no moves to push Beomgyu away. "If I hadn’t come in here, you would all have died."
"Shut your fucking mouth! I could have saved him!" His hands were firm, shaking the other by the collar. Beomgyu’s face went from pale to red all too quickly, vein visible on his temple. No one tried to stop him, you don’t stop grief unless it went as far as killing someone else who was unwontedly in the right.
"You didn’t have any fucking time!" Sunghoon spat out, unsure if he was angry or frustrated or both at the same time. "You had five seconds. If you had gone out to help him, you would have died out there and killed them because they wouldn’t have enough people in the room!"
"I saved your fucking lives!" Finally, he pushed Beomgyu away from him after what felt like an eternity. His head snapped towards you, at Soobin too, searching for anything that might give him leverage. Especially because for once, he was right. "Am I wrong? Fucking hell, say something!"
You swallowed down your tears, head hanging low for seconds in a way that mirrored Sunghoon when he was first confronted. You met his eyes with something firm, but not totally bitter.
He saved your life, and not only yours, but Beomgyu’s and Soobin’s too. Even if it meant Kai dying.
"He’s right." You admitted, not looking at Beomgyu because you knew his eyes would have that flash of disbelief and betrayal. "There wasn’t enough time, Beomgyu."
"We would all have died if you went." Soobin added, taking a visible breath that wasn’t heavy, but sharp. He didn’t want to believe it either.
For the entirety of the time you had to stay in the room, all you could hear were the shaky sobs Beomgyu couldn’t stop and your own sniffles.
You had never seen Beomgyu look so defeated as you stepped out of the room soon after, even if he wasn’t crying, everything about the way he was hunched over slightly and stepping like walking burnt him screamed grief.
"Thank you." Sunghoon cleared his throat behind you, making you pause momentarily.
"You just happened to be right, don’t get things mixed up."
By now, the blood wasn’t even something that made you want to retch, it was just an inconvenience that would make you slip if you weren’t too careful. As harsh as that way of thinking was, the human mind always finds a way to adapt. Those who don’t? They die.
The group was back on the platform, one member short. No one needed to speak to know that Kai was dead, no one asked or pried, no one even had to crack the news because inside the room, while separated from each other, the systematic voice on the speakers announced Kai’s death.
In the middle of the game, you didn’t have time to grieve. You were each doing so in your own way the best you could while still trying to survive.
The song was cheerful as the platform started to spin beneath your feet, you just wanted this game to end, and most of all you wanted everyone else to stay alive.
By now, the blood wasn’t even something that made you want to retch, it was just an inconvenience that would make you slip if you weren’t too careful. As harsh as that way of thinking was, the human mind always finds a way to adapt. Those who don’t? They die.
The group was back on the platform, one member short. No one needed to speak to know that Kai was dead, no one asked or pried, no one even had to crack the news because inside the room, while separated from each other, the systematic voice on the speakers announced Kai’s death.
In the middle of the game, you didn’t have time to grieve. You were each doing so in your own way the best you could while still trying to survive.
The song was cheerful as the platform started to spin beneath your feet, you just wanted this game to end, and most of all you wanted everyone else to stay alive.
You faintly remembered moments like this in the orphanage, when you first arrived, that is. While the kids scurried around with sunken and hollowed out cheeks and dirt beneath their nails that they long gave up on cleaning in their already ragged clothes that have seen far too many needles to amend them to count, they were, or tried to be, as welcoming as they could towards you.
Life was slightly easier as a kid, mingle had been something you played when you didn’t feel grim enough to do anything. Back then, everything was filled with rare laughter as you wrapped your arms around each other’s shoulders. Faintly, you wondered if Yeonjun was reminiscing about the same thing. Maybe he was, but it was hard to tell when his eyes were hard and trained forward. Even then, you could tell that he was sad, angry, even. You had seen that look too many times, comparable to when the kids in the orphanage looked at snobby kids at school like it was unfair.
Life would never be fair, sadly.
The platform once again halted beneath your feet. There wasn’t time to debate on the past when the future depended on what was happening right now.
'Three!'
It was immediate, you looked amongst your four teammates. Soobin gripped your hand a bit tighter in his, Beomgyu stood to the side wordlessly, but Taehyun’s eyes locked onto your hand clasped tightly into Soobin’s like you would vanish if he let go.
Before anyone could even ask about what was the strategy, Taehyun was already grabbing Beomgyu’s arm, assessing the situation. There wasn’t time to mourn let alone think if you all wanted to make it out alive when everyone would kill each other.
"Go, you two go with Yeonjun. I’ll go with Beomgyu and find someone." Taehyun hissed, already dragging Beomgyu by the arm and melting with the crowd. You had managed to nod for a split second, but your body was already screaming for you to find a room.
"Let’s go." Soobin’s head tilted towards an empty room behind a group of panicking people trying to find one or two more to go in with them.
You weren’t sure if Kai’s death made everything seem like it was in slow motion, from the way Soobin tried to run but also keep a good pace for you to follow, to the way Yeonjun’s hand held onto the door handle and pulled it back with all his might as people started to slam their hands against the door begging to be let in. But with every single beat of your heart, the thought that you would die in this game would ring.
Either way, even if you didn’t, these people would die at the end of the day. maybe they were thinking the same thing.
You wondered if any of these people who died after voting to continue regretted what they chose, and maybe they did. Your mind flickered to Beomgyu— how he hadn’t even bothered to ask what to do or find a solution for once, how he stood still as if still processing what happened.
If the games didn’t kill him, guilt would sooner or later kill him instead.
It became a routine easy to follow by the time the next round struck. Six players. Yeonjun managed to find a player who had been denied in other groups far too many times. She didn’t bother to thank you, likely from shock, but none of you bothered to demand anything.
The platform was making you feel dizzy, you wondered just how many people died just in this game. For once, as if reading your thoughts, one of you spoke up about it.
"I wonder how many players they’ll call out this round." Soobin muttered as he looked at the numbered rooms, the dread palpable in the air. "You can’t even guess mathematically because it doesn’t make sense."
"It’s going to be two." Taehyun replied as his eyes flickered to the doors, then back at the players.
"How do you know?" Yeonjun asked hopefully— if it really was two, then you’d have a set advantage and one of you would just have to find someone.
"There are 155 players and 50 doors." He must have been really thinking deep into it since the round started, you guessed. It was noticeable that Taehyun was always on some kind of edge during the games. "If they call out two, which they probably will, then they’d eliminate 55 and leave 100. We’d go in pairs and still eliminate a good amount of players on the final round."
Despite the cheerful music above, and the sickening feeling of dread, you couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Even if Taehyun’s guess was wrong and maybe a shot in the dark, anything was better than nothing.
"I’ll go with Y/N." Soobin said and you knew no one would argue, hell, you were sure everyone already caught on that he clearly wouldn’t leave your side unless absolutely necessary.
And yet, not that deep down, you felt relieved. You wanted it to be Soobin. Had it been anywhere else you would’ve noticed the flutter in your heart.
You told yourself you couldn’t, but you did it anyway. You still wanted the warmth of Soobin’s eyes looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered, you wanted his hands, warm, firm, and strong on you. Leading the way.
Had someone told you from months ago you were trusting someone again, you’d probably laugh.
"I’ll find someone." Yeonjun looked between Taehyun and Beomgyu, but mainly Beomgyu, who hadn’t uttered a word yet.
"No, I’ll go." Taehyun debated, something underneath the edge and concern in his eyes couldn’t be picked apart. "You two should go together, I’ll be fine."
"Taehyun, it’s fine. Just take Beomgyu." Yeonjun pressed on, but it was only refused. In the end, it was decided that Taehyun would go.
In the midst of them going back and forth, you merely tried to keep away the grating sound of the song that was by now ringing in your ears even in the safety of one of the rooms. Despite the fact the mingling room was beautiful, you couldn’t help but want to just leave already.
You hoped to whatever divine being was up there that, as you watched the hollow and shocked faces of each player, this was the last round. The traitorous part of your brain, or maybe just the exhausted one, seemed to whisper either dead or alive.
You cringed at the thought nevertheless, hand shifting on the swell of your belly. A reminder of why you were doing this in the first place. The mechanical whirl of the platform seemed to make home inside your eardrums, bringing a guest that called itself uneasiness.
"Y/N?" His voice was firm yet attentive as your head whipped around to find Soobin as the song neared to an end.
"Yeah?"
"Room 34." His eyes flickered towards the room where the platform was spinning you both towards.
The platform halted once again, and for what you hoped would be the last time. The others already scattered about, your hand slipped from Soobin’s as you moved as quickly as your body would allow you to love towards the room he mentioned.
Soobin stuck behind you, almost like a reflex since seeing what happened to Kai a few rounds ago because he was behind. It was hard to manage your balance despite the short distance, especially with players wrestling and pushing each other around to secure a safe spot.
Your feet throbbed, ached even, as you made it safely inside the room, muscles already trembling with either exertion or relief, you weren’t sure which was stronger at the moment.
A slam of the door was what brought your relieved mind back to the reality of the game, whirling around to find a hand holding the handle. Your eyes snapped up and you hoped, begged even, that it wasn’t what you thought it was.
The person wasn’t Soobin— it was someone who body slammed him out of the way half a second before he could even set his foot into safety.
"What the hell is your problem?!" You demanded right after you fully registered what had happened, reaching for the door handle the man had been holding as you looked at Soobin through the crack. "No, no— let go! Let him in!"
Soobin’s attempts to open the door were no less fierce, the time kept ticking like a bomb somewhere in the background, a mocking joke. You had felt ruined enough when Kai had died, but nothing compared to this.
Was this how Beomgyu had felt?
"Lady, please. I don’t want to die." The man who had been holding the door handle cried, face covered in tears but not of pity, of fear for his own life. If it wasn’t Soobin who was out there, you would’ve understood. But it was Soobin.
Your eyes met through that crack as you chose to ignore the man, rather, you focused on him. "If anything happens," he started out, voice rising and trying to stay steady above the man’s cries and the panic that bloomed inside your chest, attempting to choke you from inside out. Yet you didn’t stop trying to rattle the door even as the man held strongly onto it, couldn’t stop.
"Don’t say that!" Your voice is a mixture of a sob and an attempted shout, cracking in the mixture. You hated how despite the adrenaline rushing through his veins, it was always about what would happen to you.
Fuck.
"The others will keep you safe. Get out of here, yeah?" You shook your head as he smiled, the sacrificial kind of smile you see only in movies. The ones that heroes wear despite the fear they feel when dying for humanity or someone. You never quite comprehended the emotional appeal in some of these movies, sometimes, you inevitably overlooked the aftermath of how the characters who had to watch felt.
"I love you."
It was burning, burning in your throat, in your hands, in your body. You couldn’t get another word out before he already moved, but there was too little time for him to possibly reach another room. Your chest constricted with another sob as the door finally clinked and whirled to lock you and this man in the room.
No, no, no. Fucking hell.
"I’m sorry." The man cried, but he wasn’t really sorry, maybe he pitied you for falling in love in a game where one wrong move meant you would die. Nevertheless, despite his frightened state, he hadn’t really made any moves to push you away. He was stronger, anyway. And while scared and holding the door, he made no moves to try and hurt you into not trying to open the door. "I’m sorry, I don’t want to die."
Normally, you’d find it in yourself to forgive him. You’d always found a way to somehow have empathy. But you couldn’t help the hatred, or how you wanted to see him being shot. But no matter how much you wished upon it, it wouldn’t change reality.
Your body curled into itself as the world seemed to blur away, even the gunshots seemed to not be picked up.
‘I love you.’
You wondered if you pulled him inside or held his hand on the way inside he would still be here. If you knew that not holding his hand would lead to this, your hand would never have left his in the first place. You would’ve curled onto him a bit further before being told to leave for this godforsaken game.
You wondered if you met outside of this game again, if by any weird twist of fate and In better conditions, would he look at you with love instead of fear while saying that? Would he still say that despite the fact you were pregnant with a child that wasn’t even his?
Your chest heaved as if someone was applying heavy pressure on it, you didn’t bother to hide the tears anymore.
Every single moment of silent yearning, the stolen glances and silent devotion, was this how it all ended? Cruelly, without a proper goodbye?
He said as long as he’s here, you’d have somewhere to find warmth. Somewhere to let out your fear, a soft place to fall. But as the last gunshot rang outside and machinery came to pick up the dead bodies, that illusion was shattered, buried alongside the coffins that were loaded and taken away.
The minutes faded into existence as you waited, eventually, your sobs became quiet tears and your whole body shuddered against the floor. Sniffles felt heavy on the air that was so tense it could be cut through like a knife, or a word. But the door opened before any of that could happen, anyway.
You brought yourself to your feet because there wasn’t just a life depending on you, but because two died for you in hopes you and your unborn daughter would make it out. The room felt significantly less crowded
'End of the final round!' Called out the mechanic female voice.
You walk slowly, like guilt itself is clinging to your ankles, you wanted to curl up on the mattress that lies on the cold floor and not move for the entirety of the night. You met up with Taehyun a few steps on the way out of the game, his hands firm on your shoulders as if searching for an answer. "Y/N, where’s Soobin? Why is he not—"
His voice died in his throat as you shook your head, unable to manage anything else out. Taehyun’s hands attempt to be comforting as they rub your shoulders, down to your arms. The sigh that leaves his lips is controlled like the rest of him is, like one wrong word or move would make everything worse. Wordlessly, he pulls you into a hug, which is the most he can offer alongside a whispered ‘I'm sorry.’
Despite being convinced you had already cried enough to the point you couldn’t cry anymore, new tears stung your eyes like little needles. Your throat hurt from barely suppressing everything down, hurt from then letting the dam open.
When you finally pulled back from the embrace, Taehyun used the sleeve of his turquoise tracksuit to wipe away the remnants of the tears on your cheeks. Your breath was slightly elevated, but you did your best to calm down as much as you could at the moment.
Wordlessly, you both turned towards the direction of the exit that was once the entrance. You could feel something akin to bile bubbling up in your throat recalling vividly how tight Soobin’s hand had been on yours, how Kai and Beomgyu were still full of life and admiring the setup of the room.
“I told you they would take care of you, didn’t I?” The voice rang sweetly in your ears, you wondered if maybe you were already going crazy, perchance hallucinating. There hadn’t been enough time on the clock for Soobin to potentially make it into another room, you heard the gunshot, but you couldn’t see him after that melancholy ‘I love you’ of his. This place was probably doing a number on you, considering how his voice sounded shaky as if holding back tears like a dam.
Your steps faltered when Taehyun halted, your eyes moved quickly from the crowd moving ahead of you and towards his face. You couldn’t quite catch his expression considering his face was turned around, facing something behind you.
You didn’t need any further outlook to turn around on your heels and look behind you. Taehyun was staring, too, but didn’t quite hold the intense examination as he looked at you.
Disbelief burst through you like a bubble bursting on the hands of someone who tried to hold it, followed by a wave of relief that came crashing down. Unsure whether to cry, laugh, or scold, you didn’t get a chance to pick and choose as your feet moved to their own accord. Your body moved as if you were still in the game, still moving towards a room, safety.
But that safety would never match the safe haven that was Soobin’s arms. Or how he didn’t waste time in meeting you halfway. His arms wrapped around you next, form familiar and warm against you. Warm, alive. The blood on his tracksuit wasn’t his, and even if it was still blood, he was fine. He wasn’t bleeding. Albeit the fact he was considerably careful with your stomach, his hands couldn’t pick a place to be in. Your back, gripping your arms, against the back of your neck before his hands buried themselves into your hair. “It’s okay,” He murmured as if he hadn’t given you a near heart attack, lips pressing against the top of your head like he was trying to ground you, to make sure you knew he was tangible and still here. “See? I’m alive, we’re both here. We’re safe.”
You felt as if your throat had been dragged across parchment paper, tears of everything staining his shirt as you gripped onto the fabric of his sleeves like he might as well disappear. For a moment, nothing really mattered. Not the fact you had to go back to the main room, or the people staring. People who were impressed by the show of sheer desperation and love in a place where you were sent to die each game, and people who felt pitiful because they knew that no amount of love would make this any less ephemeral.
“I thought you died–” You managed out in a cracking voice, pulling back from where your face had been well hidden in his chest. You looked like a wreck, there was no doubt about it. But as your hands desperately cupped his face with a racing heart, Soobin still managed to look at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world. “I thought–”
“I didn’t die, I’m here. And that’s what matters, because I’m still here just like I told you I would be.” Soobin pried gently, mirroring the way you held his face as his hands held yours. You couldn’t help the breathless laugh of the rush of adrenaline leaving you.
“I love you.” Your words tumbled out faster than you had processed, and that was all the confirmation Soobin needed before his lips pressed against yours for the first time. It wasn’t the gentle, warm kind. It was desperate, the taste of your tears and his slowly falling ones was heavy on your tongue. It was rough, leaving your breathing irregulated as if you had run a marathon. But neither of you really cared, not when you were so terrified to break apart from him, not when it tasted like survival.
It spoke more than any of the words you wanted to say, or the words he wanted to hear from you.
“Don’t scare me like that again.” You managed out between the short breaks you took every time you broke apart to breathe but not quite enough due to neither of you being able to stay apart too long.
Soobin didn’t answer, at least not immediately– until you both got enough of kissing at the moment. “I won’t, I promise. I’m sorry I made you cry.” His thumbs were already wiping away the remnants of tears from your cheeks, eyes shining with love mingling with tenderness and a tinge of guilt despite the fact he hadn’t done anything wrong. “We’ll get out of here and I’ll never leave you again.”
He took a pause, eyes downcast towards your bump. It was hard to miss the smile on his face, like this was something he had been waiting for. “You and her.”
͟✿֔ ͟ຼ ꯭ ░ ׄ but i promise you this, i’ll always look out for you
──── ၇͜ᩘ 𔒌 ﹔ first repost!! if ygs cant find the old pt.1, it’s because it’s been posted here:) sorry for the hassle everyone!!
જ𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷⁀➴
Choi Beomgyu || Say cheese
꒰📸꒱ Beomgyu didn't believe in love at first sight. It was stupid, he thought. How could you decide that you loved someone without knowing anything about that person. Liking them by their looks, that's shallow. All that until he saw you...
Pairing: photographer!Beomgyu x photographer!fem!Reader
INTERACT FREELY.
˚˖꒰ Themes: college au, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, photography club.
˚˖꒰ wc: 10k
⚠: hopeless romantic, love at first sight, yearning (of course), mentions of insecurities, some alcohol consumption, minor characters death, slight abandonment issues, mentions of bullying, a little bit of blood, hurt-comfort of sort, comedy, fluff, slice of life, he fell first and harder!
• Rafthinks:
Hello everyone! After a long time, I finally finished it! Sorry I kept you waiting for so long but managing so many projects and creating new ones wasn't the smartest thing I could do... Anyway, I worked months on this, reading and rereading, correcting everything I could to make it perfect. But I didn't have anyone to beta read this for me so I don't know if it's as good as I think. Enjoy :)
Beomgyu didn't believe in love at first sight. It was stupid, he thought. How could you decide that you loved someone without knowing about that person. Liking them by their looks, that's shallow.
All that until he saw you.
You happened to have common friends and just happened to sit at the same table once. You didn't speak to each other. But he felt it, that skipped heartbeat, the butterflies in his stomach. How cliche.
He thought it was a one time thing. You didn't know him, he didn't know you, hell he only just saw you one time in his whole life. For the first time, in the college cafeteria!
He didn't even know why he felt like that! Was it because of your radiating purity, because you didn't act for anyone or put out a performance to draw attention like he had seen other people do?
He did it himself, put out a performance, not to draw attention but because that's what people wanted from him. From the moment he stepped to college the first day, people were all around him, girls mostly.
In one night he became the hot topic and the next day everyone wanted to be his friend. And all of that because of his looks. He couldn't do nothing but play along since no matter how many times he pushed people away, they kept coming back.
He'd do nothing but the bare minimum, just help the old cleaning lady pick up a rug she accidentally dropped and girls would worship him. And then, all the guys would come to befriend him so they could get popular therefore, attention from the girls.
So he just stopped caring and let everyone do what they wanted with him to the point he forgot who he was. He had so many friend groups and a different personality according what they wanted to see from him.
Maybe that's what he saw, the truth in you. You were just sitting there, talking only when you were ssked, laughing only when you had to, nothing more, nothing less. No fake smiles, words, nothing fake, only the truth.
Admiration, that's what it was. Admiration towards someone who was still real among the fake. Admiration, yes, that's what it definitely was. At least that's what he told himself then.
[...]
He first interacted with you when he decided to join the photography club.
All the freshmen had to join a club. It wouldn't matter for the degree but still, for some reason everyone had to do it. It was like a fraternity thing and he had the choice to stop next year. So much for torturing freshmen, like he was being tormented enough.
At the announcement board, posters of different clubs had taken over. All other announcements were hidden under them, all colourful, trying to the attention of many. How ironic?
By the time Beomgyu got there, the small papers at the end of all posters saying 'join' in big, bold letters, had disappeared. Well, not all, just the most popular amongst the clubs like football, cheerleading, art, music. Not that he cared to join any of those clubs.
His friends were practically pestering him to but even if he did and he was bad, they'd still keep him, they'd still give him the most important role. And even if that meant they'd fail the term's assignment, they'd keep him just to use his fame for their advantage. So no, he didn't want to join any of these clubs.
All except for one, the photography club, which only two pieces of those small paper lines were cut from its poster. He didn't know why but he cut piece and after his first course, he went to sign up.
What he didn't expect was to see you there. You were in a small, crumby classroom, dust particles were floating around, visible by the sunlight. You sitting by the huge round table, near the window. The evening light filtering through the semi-transparent blinds fell just right on your skin.
That's when it happened again. That missed heartbeat, the heat rising through him. He brushed it off before you noticed that he was staring.
"Em, excuse me?" he said hesitantly as if he was afraid to ruin your moment. You looked up from your laptop, your eyes captured the soft sunlight so beautifully. God, why was he thinking like that for a total stranger? What a freak he felt.
"How can I help you?" you asked, your tone soft yet confused.
"Em, it's here right, the photography club?"
"Yeah?"
"Right... Um, were do I sign u-"
"To me." a playful voice interrupted him then, figure emerged from the shadows at the corner of the room.
Choi Yeonjun. A year older. The playboy as rumours said, the last person he expected to see in that club. Honestly, Beomgyu believed he didn't even care enough to join one until professors started chasing around. He seemed like he didn't give a damn crap. So yeah, he was surprised to say at least.
"I'm the leader of the club. As I heard you want to join?" he asked, plopping on a chair, licking on a lollipop. "Yeah." he replied, making his way in. "Cool. You have a camera, right?"
"Um no, but I can buy one."
"Well, you're in." he shrugged, motioning to come and sit.
"Just like that?" Beomgyu asked confused. From what he recalled people telling him today, the had to go through excruciating challenges and interviews to be accepted to a club.
"Well yeah, I mean it's just us. If I had to make someone go through tests and bullshit, I would have to shut down this club."
"Right..." he trailed off, "But you don't have other members from your year?"
"I did last year yeah, but I guess they got bored and resigned."
"Oh..."
"It's better this way, less people, better cooperation."
"You've got a point."
"Of course I do. Oh, I think I didn't introduce you two! How rude of me? Y/n, this is um... What's your name again?" Yeonjun asked shifting his attention from his phone to him. "Beomgyu."
"Ah, you're the Beomgyu! I've heard about you." he responded, popping the lollipop from his mouth. Beomgyu felt uncomfortable at his remark, shifting awkwardly on his chair. What had he heard about him and most importantly, what did you know?
Wait, why did he even care about what you thought of him?
"Well then, Y/n, this is Beomgyu, Beomgyu, this is Y/n." Yeonjun continued.
"Nice to meet you." you said, with a small, discreet smile. At that, Beomgyu was sure he stroked. He didn't dare to look at you in the eyes as he replied "same".
After that, an awkward silence fell upon the room until the door creaked open. "Oh, if this isn't my boy Kai!" Yeonjun mused, getting up. "He doesn't bite, I think. He's our latest addition! His name 's Beomgyu."
"I-um... Hi, nice to meet you Beomgyu. I'm Kai, Huening Kai." the boy said shyly. If this wasn't a college building, Beomgyu could swear that he was a high-schooler. He shorter than Yeonjun, fluffy hair falling in his big, brown eyes.
"Nice to meet you too Kai." he replied, flushing a smile so Kai would feel comfortable with him. At that, Kai slightly eased to him, starting to make small talk.
As it turned out, Kai was a freshman too and apparently Yeonjun's best friend somehow. He definitely didn't seem like the guy who'd hang around people like Yeonjun. He was just too innocent.
He spent the rest of the evening getting to know you, Kai and Yeonjun better. As it turned out, Yeonjun was in a performing arts major and he was a menace. Kai in a computer major and liked programming and gaming.
You were in the same major as him, in the music major. Beomgyu couldn't believe it. He never saw you around, probably because he paid attention to his surroundings, to engrossed in the notes on his pentagram, the only thing keeping him sane. His heart did a stupid thing at the thought of seeing you everyday.
[...]
The next club meeting happened a week after that. In the meantime, Beomgyu would see you in class, sitting a few rows behind him. Sometimes you'd see him too and greet him and it was almost too much for his hard to bear. The way you smiled warmly at him and your eyes. God, he couldn't handle it and it was stupid!
It was easier though when he was with the other to talk to you but most of the times, you would initiate the conversation. He still didn't know how to act around you, his mind wanted to be rational but his heart was hammering each time with anticipation at the thought of seeing you again.
"Your attention please!" Yeonjun said a little too loudly while spreading his legs on the table. "As much I hate working with plans, we have to present a theme for our term assignment. So, suggestions. 3,2,1 and go!"
"Well, as you were wasting time talking around, I thought of couple of themes we could work on."
"I'm listening sexy brain." Yeonjun teased to which you just rolled your eyes. "Firstly, nature-"
"No, it's too basic!" Yeonjun cut in.
"I FIGURED, so I already crossed it of the list. Secondly, cityscapes?"
"No, I want something unique."
"What about people portraits?"
"No, I want something with more passion!"
"You're not helping."
"Love?" Beomgyu hesitantly spoke.
"Yes darling?" Yeonjun replied and shifted his attention to him, playfully batting his eyelashes.
"Tch, I didn- I-"
"Calm down, geez! I was just joking!" Yeonjun said defensively.
"Ugh, I meant as a theme, love?"
"Elaborate?"
"We just photograph things we love, that personally make us happy."
"Hm... hm, HM! Now that would be interesting. Dude, don't you have a sexy brain!" Yeonjun said excitedly, hoping on his feet. All Beomgyu could do was exhale at his antics.
"We proceed with that, if anyone doesn't have objections?" Yeonjun asked changing from playful to serious in record time. Kai just nodded no. "Sounds intriguing, I'm in." you said.
"Great, it's locked!"
[...]
After that day, you all made a program that accommodate you. Meetings for the clubs were twice a week and you scheduled yours for Wednesday and Friday after classes. At Friday's though, Yeonjun would be a little late since he had more lectures than you, so would Kai since he was studying a different course and he had a different program than you.
So, at Friday's, at least for a little while, it would be just Beomgyu and you. Not that he mind though. Why would he? He could do this right?
Wrong.
Friday came and before he could process it, he was back at that small classroom. One other meeting had intervened but not on a Friday when he would be alone with you.
Currently, he was alone in the classroom, leaning against the window, looking outside at the setting sun while listening to music with his headphones on. Suddenly, the music disappeared from his as someone took his headphones.
"What are you listening to?" a voice he would recognise everywhere echoed through the rather empty room. It was you, holding his headphones next to your ear.
"Um... various things." he shrugged.
"Hm, right now you were listening to... Radiohead, Fake Plastic Trees."
"Yeah..."
"Nice pick." you said, handing him back the headphones. "You like Radiohead?" he questioned, taking them without making eye contact, his heart hammering for some stupid reason.
"I love them! I love how they capture the emotions in their songs. It feels real." Real, yes. That's the only real thing about him, the music. People couldn't hear what he listened to so no one would judge him for keeping his real identity inside his play lists, no one would see his fragile side. It was his only safe place.
"Em, should we get started?" he asked to change the topic. "Yeah, let's get some work done before Yeonjun comes and we do nothing but messing around." you replied, taking your seat by the window. Beomgyu sat next to you and pulled out his laptop, opening the the draft file you had started.
"So, I brought some notes. It's just the definition of love and my personal opinion on why we chose this theme." you started, showing him your notebook. "Yeah, I did that too." Beomgyu replied.
"Great. Well, I think we should start by putting the definition of love as prologue so we can start it smoothly. Then explain what it's all about and analyse the prospects."
"Hm, yeah. That'll do. And lastly we put our personal opinions."
"Great, let's start then." you said and started typing on the keyboard. Before he knew it, you two had already finished half the presentation. "Alright, now we just have to wait for Kai and Yeonjun to do their parts." you spoke, breaking the silence Beomgyu hadn't realised fell above you.
"Well, they should be here any minute n-" he tried to reply before Yeonjun slammed the door open. "Oh, hello everyone!" he said obnoxiously loud. Kai followed behind him silent, waving hesitantly.
"How things going here?" Yeonjun asked, leaning close between you two. "Great, we actually finished our parts. All that's left is yours." you replied, stretching your arms above your head.
"Right..." he said and plopped on chair, almost like a protest. Kai sat beside him, already pulling out his notes. Few minutes in and Yeonjun pushes the laptop away, "Wanna go grab a drink?".
"Not until you finish your part~" you sing-alonged, not looking up from your phone. "But it's night already, college will close and we'll be trapped in here and I heard this building is haunted!" Yeonjun whined with pleading eyes.
"Hurry up then." you shrugged.
"But-" Yeonjun tried to object.
"No buts. If you finish your part, then we'll go anywhere you want."
"Anywhere~"
"I'll probably regret it but yes, anywhere."
"Say it's already done!" Yeonjun exclaimed and started typing on the keyboard in lightning speed.
And that's how Beomgyu found himself at the the city's shore, with beers and some snacks Kai had brought. It was so peaceful at this hour, the sky painted in a mix of pastel colours with a few white clouds decorating it.
Beomgyu reached for his bag and pulled out his new camera, he pointed it at the sky and took a picture. "You bought a camera I see." Yeonjun said, stuffing his face with a handful of chips.
"And an expensive one at that..." Kai trailed off, marking the first time he spoke now. "Well yeah, I had to take one..." Beomgyu replied, looking at the picture he took, "I don't know much about cameras so I took the one that was highly recommended."
"But it seems it isn't as good as they say." he commented after a while.
"Dude, you can't be serious. This is the dream of every photographer!" Yeonjun defended the camera like it was his child.
"What's the problem?" you asked, tilting your head towards him, so close he almost dropped the camera. "I um- No matter how many pictures I take, they're always blurry. I'm sure I cleaned the lens and I don't move when I click, so... I don't know." Beomgyu explained.
"Let me have a look." you said, carefully taking the camera from his hands. "You should adjust the lens. Now you had it focused for close distances. If you want to shoot further away, you should twist it left." you continued after contemplated the camera for a few moments.
When you passed it back at him, your fingers brushed for a call of the second and goosebumps rose on his skin. He immediately averted his gaze from you, like it was burning him and muttered a "thank you" under his breath.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. After that accidental contact, his brain had stopped functioning properly. He could still feel the soft graze of your fingertips on his skin. As much as he would try to rationalise it, his mind was stuck replaying that scene.
God, why was he like that he couldn't understand. He felt like a silly, lovesick teenage boy. And the worst thing, for someone he barely knew! Last thing he wanted was for you to become a victim of his shallow emotions and drive you away.
He didn't want that, it had happened to him again, after all these years of performance, he couldn't tell the difference between love and being treated like a normal human being. But he liked your company, those moments you spent together was everything to him. You never made him feel used, all times you would spend together had a deeper meaning. They were pure and that's why he enjoyed your company, cause with you, nothing was forced.
[...]
For the next few weeks, at the club, you focused on perfecting the presentation. In the meantime, Beomgyu found himself spending a lot more time with his club members, especially you. Since you were on the same major, you also shared classes.
He never sat with you at lectures though, as his other friends would always crowd him. But you'd share notes or talk about how boring was the math professor when you'd meet later at the club.
One day at the cafeteria, while he was walking with lunch tray towards his friends table, his eyes caught you waving your hand to get his attention. He didn't thing twice to ditch his other friends to sit with you.
"Hey." he shyly said, sitting next to you as it was the only available seat, although he wasn't sure he'd made it alive being so close to you. "Hey. Hope I don't interfere with other lunch plans." you said, looking at him with apologetic eyes.
"Wha- No, no, don't worry!" he replied urgently, "What's up?"
"Well, we were thinking, since we have the presentation ready that we should start with the pictures." Yeonjun responded.
"Okay. Um, is there a problem with that?"
"Well, yeah..." Kai trailed off, "We don't know how we're supposed to do it. How put love into pictures, so since it was your idea, we were thinking if you had any way how to do it."
"Hm... Well, I never gave it much thought but maybe..." Beomgyu paused, "We could maybe devide it to outdoors and indoors photography."
"Elaborate." Yeonjun said, taking his now signature lollipop out of his mouth.
"We could, for example, photograph things we love to do or see outside and respectively, inside." Beomgyu explained.
"Inside?" you asked confused. "I mean, our homes, our personal time, what do we like to do." he replied.
"Genius!" Yeonjun exclaimed, almost falling from his chair, "Alright., now listen how we'll do it. For the outdoors photo shooting, we'll spend a whole day out and take pictures." Yeonjun said.
"We'll split into two groups, me and Kai and you with Y/n and spend the day at different locations so to have a variety..."
Did he hear right? He would be at your team?
"This way we'll have two different approaches from the same place but it won't be repeative and boring by seeing similar things from all four of us. Sounds good?" Yeonjun asked, his eyes shooting at everyone.
"Mhm." Kai responded. "Fine by me." you replied, turning to look at him. All Beomgyu could do was nod silently in response.
He would spend a whole day with you, alone? How could he do that without losing his mind!
The days passed before Beomgyu could process it and the day of the outdoors photo shooting arrived. He didn't know why but he spent literal hours the previous night deciding what to wear.
You had agreed to meet up in front the dorms' main building and then head out to your assigned location. When he got there, you were already waiting, your camera in your hands, taking some pictures.
"Sorry I kept you waiting." he said panting from running all the way here. "Don't worry. I came earlier." you replied, handing him a cup of coffee.
"You didn't have too..."
"It's okay, it's my way to say thank you for letting me take a few pictures with your camera today." you said, smiling sheepishly. That did something to him that he tried to ignore.
"When did I say that?" he said teasingly, accepting the drink. All this time, Beomgyu had done a work with himself to be able to exist around you without being awkward. He was able to drop his defences and be confident and funny and messy. But didn't mean the effects you had on him stopped, he just learned to suppress it.
"Please!" you said with fake-puppy eyes since you knew he would let you eitherway. Beomgyu pretended to think for a while before caving in, "Alright, alright, only because I'm a good person." he mused. "The best! Let's get going now." you responded and started walking ahead.
The day went on normal Beomgyu cracking jokes, you rumbling about random things and of course, taking photos. You walked at the centre of the town, snapping pictures from your favourite places, visited a couple of museums, parks and ended up at the banks of Han River.
You were sitting by the water, eating some street food you bought along the way. While he was sitting quietly, eating his hot dog, he felt a warm hand on his cold cheek. "Why your eyes always look so sad?" you asked. The sudden question caught Beomgyu off guard.
"Wha-what are you talking about?" he stuttered, eyes unfocused. "You're always laughing and smiling but it never reaches your eyes..." you trailed off, your thumb slowly moving under his eye.
Beomgyu was too stunt to speak. He opened his and closed it with no sound coming out, like a fish out of water. "I've noticed how you're always smiling, joking, trying to make everyone around you happy but you aren't." you continued, "I just want to know if you're okay.".
"I-I..." he tried to lie but it died in his throat, "I don't... I don't know anymore." he replied at last. "Wanna talk about it?" you asked, withdrawing your hand. Beomgyu remained silent for a while before sucking in a deep breath.
"I- From the moment I came here, people were all over me for some reason. Girls saw me as hot, guys as someone cool and I didn't try to change that, it was no use. It was always like this, from school even! For them I would always that guy no matter what did. But in the process, I forgot who I really was. Pretending for everyone else, I became a stranger to myself, fake...".
"You know what I think?" you muttered softly, "That you're a coward."
"Wow, thanks." Beomgyu laughed dryly. "Well, you never tried to change it, you just accepted it. You never tried to show your real self, that's why you got lost. Maybe you should let yourself just be yourself. You don't have to pretend for no one, you don't owe them anything." you said, holding his gaze.
"Then, I guess I am a coward. But I don't know... I'm afraid that no one will like the real me and I'll be alone. I've been alone since the day I was born. My mother died at birth and my father was nowhere to be seen. I grew up with my grandmother but she died too last year. I'm just afraid of being alone again. Maybe because I'm me I lose everyone..." he trailed off, his voice cracking a bit at the edges.
"Oh Gyu... You'll never be alone, you have me now because for what it's worth, for me you are real." At your words, Beomgyu's eyes snapped up to yours. "You showed me your real self and I'm still here, aren't I?"
Beomgyu nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "I won't leave you alone Gyu." you assured him. Beomgyu could cry, his eyes were welled up and a lump had formed in his throat.
In a moment, you had leaned in, hugging him. He froze. Tears started flowing down his cheeks. Before he could do anything, you had pulled back. Your hands reached for his cheeks and wiped away his tears, smiling softly.
The air was full of tension and unspoken words but you didn't push further, settling for silence. Time passed and the sun started to set painting the sky in beautiful pastel colours, with a few scattered white clouds decorating it.
Wanting to capture the beautiful moment, you grabbed your camera and walked closer to the river, wanting to have a better angle to photograph.
Beomgyu couldn't resist how beautiful you looked with the gentle sunlight illuminating just right on your skin. He took his own camera in his hands and snapped a photo of you while you were not looking.
He would keep this memory for himself, reminding him of those shared moments you had. He wanted to remember the first he felt real in a long time.
[...]
"Mornin'." Yeonjun rumbled, walking in the small classroom, half-alive half-dead, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. "Dude, you look awful." Beomgyu said, looking up from his laptop. "Thanks bro." Yeonjun responded and rolled his eyes, plopping on the chair next to him.
"What happened to you?"
"I was out with my girlfriend yesterday. She dragged me almost to every club!"
"You have a girlfriend!?" Beomgyu asked surprised. "Yeah? For like the whole last year." Yeonjun replied, taking a sip from his coffee. Beomgyu remained silent, looking at him like he just said he murdered his entire family.
"You didn't expect that now, did you?" Yeonjun said with a smirk, "Well, I've heard some rumours going around 'bout me. That's doesn't mean I'm like this. People will go on and on about you, creating an image from their heads for them to not feel miserable with themselves, that's doesn't mean you have to stick for it."
"Yeah, right..." Beomgyu paused, "Um- let's get started?"
"Do we have to?" Yeonjun whined, "I can feel my heartbeat to my head!"
"Well, since it'll be just us today, we have to."
"Why just us?"
"Because Kai has a quiz today and Y/n is working. Didn't you checked the group chat last night?"
"Are you serious? I barely had time to pee yesterday, I literally did not sit down last night!" Yeonjun exclaimed, a dramatic sigh falling from his mouth. "Right." Beomgyu responded, "Well, we still have to at least finish with half the photos."
"Damn, why did I became the leader?"
"Don't ask me, I question that too." Beomgyu mocked and at his words, received a burning glare from Yeonjun. "Anyway, let's develop the photos." Beomgyu said, pulling his camera out of his bag. "Okay, you go first. My brain barely exists now." Yeonjun replied, taking a sip from his coffee. "Why, it exists other times-" Beomgyu muttered under his breath, "-I meant, I don't know how to do this."
"And then you're talking about my brain. Give it to me." Yeonjun teased and took the laptop in front of him. Then, Beomgyu handed him his camera. He plugged the camera to the laptop and opened the photograph file.
"Hm, you did some nice work for an amateur." Yeonjun said, looking through the photos, "Wait, who's this?"
"Who's wh- T-that's no one!" Beomgyu exclaimed after taking a look at photo Yeonjun was referring to, your photo. "Wait, that's Y/n!" Yeonjun continued.
"This is not for the presentation!" Beomgyu said, closing his laptop shut. "But why, it looks good- Ohhhhh-ohhhh-ohhhh-owoooo Beomgyu my boy~" Yeonjun responded playfully, "You know, I suspected it for a while. I mean, you're so oblivious, it's a miracle she still doesn't know."
"It's not like this."
"Oh yeah, then why you always acting a little nervous when she's around, why you have that dreamy look or when she's not here you're always talking about her like me and Kai don't exist."
"I-I'm not-"
"You think I don't know how being in love is like? Trust me, I've been there, don't deny it. Plus, why else would you take her picture for our project with the theme love~"
"Just don't- don't show her." Beomgyu exhaled in defeat. "Okay, I won't." Yeonjun replied, turning back to work, "But I think you should put it~"
"Wha- Don't do something stupid!"
"There are two possibilities, one, either she likes you back, she sees the photo, she understands you like her too and boom, you get together, or two, she doesn't like you and you never discuss about that photo." Yeonjun shrugged.
"No, it's better this way, for her..." Beomgyu responded, focusing back to work.
The same afternoon, after he and Yeonjun finished with printing the photos, Beomgyu received a text from you.
🎐: Hey :)
🐻: Hey!
🎐: You free?
🐻: Yeah, what's up?
🎐: I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. I'm finishing work in a while and I'm bored to go back home :(
Beomgyu couldn't fight the excitement blooming in his chest no matter how many times you had asked him this question before.
🐻: Yeah, sure. I'll come by your work?
🎐: Waiting!!
With that, Beomgyu rushed to your workplace, a small cafe shop down town. When you saw him, sitting behind the counter, eyes glued to your phone screen as there weren't any incoming customers except Beomgyu, you got up to greet him.
"Hey!" you said excitedly with a small, tired smile spreading across your lips. That made his stomach flutter which he tried to brush it off, "Hey." he replied.
"Give me a minute to take my things and then we can go." you said, walking away to the stuff only room. "Okay." Beomgyu responded, leaning against the counter.
A while later, you appeared wearing a cropped hoodie and jeans with your bag hanging from shoulder. "Aria, I'm off." you said to your co-worker who was cleaning up some tables.
"See you!"
"Alright, I'm ready. Let's go?" you said, walking towards him. "Um, yeah. Where to?" he questioned, leading you out of the door. "Just anywhere, really." you exhaled tiredly.
You followed Beomgyu and after a while, you arrived at a high glade. The view from up there was breathtaking, the city lights slowly coming to life, the busy roads, the tall buildings that almost touched the darkening sky. The spring breeze passing through the green leaves, almost like a song.
You sat down at the mantel separating the road bellow from the mound, your legs hanging at the gap high above.
Everything seemed so distant from uo there, the quiet hum of the city down bellow, the few cars passing from the road behind you. It was so peaceful that made you forget how tired you were.
"It's so beautiful you there." you sighed content. "Mm." Beomgyu hummed softly, "I come here when things get too much. I don't know, something about being away from the stress of the city, looking all so small, it's relaxing beyond that I can explain. I thought it might help you too." he continued and turned to you.
"It did." you replied, holding his gaze, "Thank you."
After that, silence stretched upon you two, comforting and easy. The sun had set long ago, giving its place to the moon and the stars.
Suddenly, Beomgyu felt a pressure on his shoulder. He slowly turned his eyes to see that you had leaned your head on his shoulder. Then, he noticed that your hands had lightly wrapped around his arm.
Beomgyu thought that his heart would beat out of his chest. He forgot how to breath, he didn't want you to move your head. He didn't know how much time you spend like this.
No one wanted this moment to end, you felt so calm with him, looking at the still busy city from above. And he didn't want to let you go. But it was getting late and you had a lecture early the next day.
As much as it pained him, he got up and walked you home. "I had fun today." you said, standing outside from your building. "Me too." Beomgyu replied, rubbing the back of his head.
Before you walked in, you planted a soft a kiss on his cheek that left Beomgyu speechless. "Thank you." you said and walked into your apartment. Beomgyu tried to speak, to say good night or something nothing came out his mouth, the ghost of your touch still had a lingering feeling on his skin.
[...]
Weekends are meant for rest, but not with Yeonjun as a friend.
🦊: Yo, you guys free?
The first of the many messages he sent at 08:00 pm sharp, made Beomgyu's phone buzz. Who is even awake at eight pm on a Saturday morning? Apparently, Yeonjun.
Beomgyu ignored the sound of his phone but for the next hour, Yeonjun didn't stop blowing up the group chat with dramatic messages.
🦊: Wake up already!
🦊: You guys ignore me?
🦊: Why do you hated me?
🦊: Why don't you love me :(
Beomgyu never wanted to learn how to punch someone online more and throw his phone out of the window.
🐻: Now I'm awake, you're pleased?
Beomgyu typed, hoping Yeonjun could see how frustrated and angry he was through the screen.
🎐: Yeah I hate you, for waking me up so early in a freaking Saturday morning!
🐧: I tried to ignore you but you didn't let me.
Beomgyu's phone lit up again with both your angry responses. Things were serious, since he had never seen Kai being this sharp in his responses.
🦊: You're going to firework festival with me tonight!
If there was a Yeonjun hate club, Beomgyu would be the leader. But he loved him enough to not punch him in face when he saw him again.
🐧: This is today?
🦊: Yep.
🐻: Seriously, you woke us up this early to tell us that? This is in like eleven hours!
🦊: Wanted to make sure you wouldn't make other plans :)
🎐: What makes you think we'll be going with you after this?
🦊: You'll go, you love me ;)
🐧: No, I'm gonna kill you.
🦊: See you at 20.00 am at the banks of Han River.
And that's how Beomgyu found himself waiting for Yeonjun along with you and Kai at the banks of the Han River, plotting ways to take revenge on Yeonjun for ruining your sleep this morning, and now being late.
"Hey guys!" Yeonjun came running towards you, waving his hands. "You're late." you said, crossing your arms above your chest. "No, I'm on time." he chimed, throwing an arm over Kai's shoulders. "You're half an hour late." Kai said, glaring at him. "Nope, half past eight was the right time." Yeonjun responded. "You said eight am." you said, showing him the messages. "I just wanted to make sure you'll show up." Yeonjun grinned. "That's it, you die." Kai gritted his teeth.
"Can it wait? The festival is about to start!" Yeonjun said excitedly, already dragging Kai towards the first stand that was selling corndogs. The evening went on like this, Yeonjun dragging you to every stand, trying different traditional snacks and drinks, buying little, useless things that you serve as reminder of this day. He even convinced you to do face painting!
Beomgyu got painted as a bear, Kai as penguin, Yeonjun a fox and you as a flower. Parents and kids would stare confused at you while waiting on the line but that was the last thing Beomgyu could think about when he saw you walking out. A pink flower with purple and white details decorating your cheek with vines that reach your forehead. He could say pink suited you so much.
He didn't notice was staring until Yeonjun playfully jabbed his ribs. "S'up dude?" he said, a smirk already curling in his face. "N-nothing." Beomgyu replied, turning away.
"Awww, look how cute you are Beomie." you cooed. "Yeah, because there are many 20 year olds painted as a bear." Beomgyu retorted in a attempt to hide how your comment made his system short-circuit.
"You guys can flirt later, the firework show is about to start!" Yeonjun exclaimed after seeing the first firework in the sky, marking the start of the festival. Soon the night sky was painted bright colours and unique shapes. It was so beautiful.
"You know..." Yeonjun started to say, "I'm sorry for the morning." he continued. "It's okay, hut don't do it again..." Kai trailed off, seeing Yeonjun's eyes welled up, looking at the biggest firework he'd ever seen. "We used to come here every year with my grandfather. The last festival we saw was from his hospital room and he... he told me that he will always be there to watch it with me, in the biggest firework." he said, voice shaking, "That was his last festival..." he continued, staring at the sky full of fireworks. "Sorry for this morning really, it's just no one from my family can bear to go with me, they can't... But I believe what he said and this is only way to feel close to him." he continued, the tears in eyes falling down his cheeks.
"Hey, don't even mention it. I'm glad I could go with you." Beomgyu said throwing an arm over Yeonjun's shoulder, pulling him close. "It's okay Jun, it was nice coming here with you." you said, ruffling his hair. "You what, I believe that too. He us watching with us and I'm sure he's proud of you." Kai added. "Thank you guys." Yeonjun responded, looking down at you. "No, thank you." Beomgyu said with a small smile.
The firework kept lighting up the sky, painting it in all shorts of colours and unique shapes. Suddenly, Beomgyu felt weight on his right shoulder.
You had leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder and his legs almost gave up. "Look at the moon." you said pointing sky, "It looks beautiful, doesn't it?". Beomgyu looked at the sky, through the endless fireworks. It was indeed a breathtaking sight.
But he knew that nothing could compare with your big, bright eyes, illuminating all the colours of the painted sky. "Yes, it is." he replied, but he wasn't looking at the moon anymore.
Later that night he offered to walk you home, earning a dirty look from Yeonjun like saying, get her, man. Beomgyu just rolled his eyes in response and just walked away with you.
The walk was silent but it wasn't awkward. It was full like the moon in the sky, full of unspoken emotions that he couldn't define. When you reached your apartment, you turned to look at him.
"Thanks for tonight." you said, looking at him like you knew something that he didn't. "No problem." he replied, looking back in your eyes with a smile. You smiled at him and brushed a strand from his face, your fingertips skimming over his skin. He knew he was blushing but he couldn't tear his gaze from you.
"See you tomorrow Gyu." you said, your hand retreating from his cheek. He wanted to do something but he was frozen in place. He just saw you walking through the door of your apartment building with a stupid smile plastered on his face and burning cheeks.
[...]
Morning classes were a torture created by someone as a punishment for existing in this world. Every Friday, he'd fight demons to get out of bed, regretting every life choice he made to get him here.
After lots of debating with inner self, he finally got off the bed, getting ready to go sleep in class. As Beomgyu was walking to his morning lecture, he saw Kai running right past him. Beomgyu tried to greet him but right then, some guys run right behind him.
It was weird, he knew those guys. They were some of his friends. Curious, he followed them. What he saw made his jaw drop, Kai's small frame was pushed against the wall, his things all scattered on the floor, his notes ripped in small pieces. His friends had circled him, laughing.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" Beomgyu asked furiously. "Oh, Beomgyu! Come here to laugh with us." Taeil said. "What's funny about this?" Beomgyu replied, walking towards Kai.
"Oh, come Beom. Look how pathetic he looks~" Dohyun mocked. "The only pathetic thing around here is you! Leave him alone!" Beomgyu said, pushing him away.
"Hey, calm down. He's just a nerd." Taeil, walking provocatively towards him. "He is my friend, now leave him alone!" Beomgyu responded, blocking his way. "Very funny~" Taeil said, walking past him. Before he could reach for Kai, Beomgyu pushed him hard, causing Taeil to fall on the ground.
At that, Dohyun landed a punch on him but Beomgyu didn't fight back. Soon, people started gathering around, along with them some teachers that called the security.
"Beomgyu, Kai, are you guys alright?" Yeonjun asked running towards them. "Yeah." Beomgyu replied, turning to Kai, "Are you okay Kai?" he asked. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you so much Beomgyu." Kai responded, still trembling.
"Yeonjun!" your voice echoed the crowds, "What happened?"
"Some bullies were hitting Kai!" Yeonjun said angrily, helping Kai gather his stuff from the ground. "No, they didn't hit me..." Kai trailed off, "But they hit Beomgyu."
"Wha- Oh my God! Gyu, you're bleeding."
Only at your words Beomgyu realised his ripped lip. "I-it's nothing." he said, "Kai are you sure you're okay?".
"Yes, thank you Beomgyu." Kai replied bowing. "Beomgyu, let's get this cleared up." you said, gently guiding him inside. You leaded him to the empty classroom of your club.
Beomgyu quietly sat down on a chair while you fetched the small first aid kit from a drawer. Then, you went and kneeled into front of him, cradling his face in your hands.
"It hurts?" you asked softly, trying to catch his gaze. "Not much." Beomgyu replied, eyes unfocused. "This might sting a little." you said and proceeded to clean meticulously his wound.
While at it, you felt something liquid, warm on your fingers. He was crying. "Gyu?" you cooed, wiping away his tears. "What happened, did I hurt you?" you asked worriedly.
He shook his head no but his gaze remained downcast. "They were my friends..." he whispered after a while. "Those people that hurt Kai were my friends. All this time, I didn't know- how could I be friends with those guys?" he continued, his voice cracking, "How will I face Kai after this?"
"It's not your fault Beomgyu." Kai said timidly, walking towards him, "You aren't like them, you helped me and thank you for that.". Kai leaned in, hugging Beomgyu, "No one ever stood up for me and for what it's worth, I want to be your friend Beomgyu."
"I want that too." Beomgyu exhaled shakily.
"Hey, what about me!" Yeonjun whined from the door, a big pout formed on his lips. "Someone's jealous~" you said teasingly. "I'm not!" Yeonjun protested, stomping his foot on the ground. "Yeah, yeah, come here big baby."
Yeonjun walked in towards you, dropping his head on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around his back while the other two burst out laughing and his antics.
[...]
After that incident, Beomgyu never spoke to those guys nor anyone around their circle. He stopped hanging around his friends and started spending all his with you, Kai and Yeonjun.
He didn't care what others would say about this. He enjoyed his new company and that's all it mattered for him. For the first time in his life, he didn't have to pretend around people, he just had to be himself.
It was chaotic, Yeonjun being a dramatic diva, Kai slowly opening up, revealing his freaky self, you being their silly mom. It was chaos but it was his chaos and he wouldn't change it for the world. It was the best he's ever lived, along with people he chose and they accepted him for who he really was and loved him for that, and that's all he needed to know.
And they days passed, and the summer approached, along with it, the end of the semester. Which meant that it was a step closer to the presentation day.
"Um, guys?" Kai said hesitantly. "Hm?" you hummed absorbed into perfecting the power point. "How about we take a group picture, you know for the exhibition?" he explained, hands fidgeting nervously in his lap.
"Excellent idea!" Yeonjun exclaimed, almost jumping from his chair, flinching the shit out of Kai. "Yeah, let's do this!" Beomgyu added, already grabbing his camera. He put the camera on a tripod, setting a timer.
"Get in positions everyone!" Yeonjun said, rushing in front of the camera. Everyone else followed, taking place in front of it. The first photos came out good but as more were being snapped, they progressively became more silly and chaotic.
Yeonjun started taking dramatic poses, Kai goofy ones, you started messing with Beomgyu, trying to make him lose his cool, which you achieved. "Alright, alright, let me check them and I'll add them in to the exhibition." you said, reaching for the camera.
"Mind doing it alone? I have a date with my girlfriend, it's our second year anniversary." Yeonjun said with pleading eyes. You pretended to think for a moment before giving him the clearance to go. "Okay, me and Gyu can finish?" you questioned, looking towards him.
"Of course, have fun." he replied, already taking a seat, "Kai, you can stay?".
"I'm sorry, I have to study for a quiz." Kai responded, voice barely audible. "That teacher won't give you a break, all tests and stuff!" you said. "Of course, don't worry about it, we'll just pick a few photos and we'll sent it to you to revise them." Beomgyu said in order to calm Kai.
"Thank you guys, and I'm really so sorr-"
"Don't even mention it. That's what friends are for." he responded. At that, Kai flashed a great full smile, his eyes smiling with him. "I love you guys!" he said, hugging both of you and then he was out the door, waving goodbye.
You spent the next our choosing photos and adding to the presentation, making sure everything was up to par.
"And... done. Finally!" you exhaled, stretching from your chair. "Woo, I didn't think it'll take us that long." you said, turning to look at him, "Right now I just want my bed. Ready to go?"
"Um, if you don't mind I'll stay a little more. I just want to correct some things with my presentation." Beomgyu replied. "Oh, okay. See you tomorrow then." you said, ruffling his hair. "Get home safe." Beomgyu added before you walked out the door.
When you left, Beomgyu pulled out from his bag the photo he had taken of you. He stuck it on a white carton paper like all the others and wrote a name, Sunsetz, simple, from your shared favourite song. Then he put it in the same black frame.
There was no going back now. Tomorrow you were going to see and probably understand. At least he hoped you do cause he knew he could never say the words out loud. And all he could do was hope he wouldn't lose you.
[...]
The day of the college fair arrived. The campus was filled with determined students and excited friends and family. Everyone had forgotten about the stress of the exam period, focused on enjoying the start of the summer.
The fair had organised the turns which each group would present what they prepared. First would be the football game, the cheerleading show and the half time show by the drama club, second in line was painting exhibition, then was your turn and lastly, the music show. It was convenient, you could enjoy all activities and have enough time to prepare your part, closing your night with the concert.
The campus's yard was packed with scattered food stalls here and there, the smells of corndogs, pop corn, churos, filled your nostrils. Laughing children were running around everywhere, chased by their parents. Honestly, it was never so lively, usually quiet with stressed students.
"Hey guys!" Yeonjun exclaimed, hurrying towards the court gates, "The game is about to start!"
"Easy for you to say, you're not carrying anything!" Beomgyu responded, trying not to drop the bucket of pop corn from his arms. "I genuinely dislike that guy." you said, "At fairytales, men are supposed to carry, not the other way around." you joked.
"I'm the princess here, sweetheart." Yeonjun retorted, with a smug look on his face. You rolled your eyes in response, a low chuckle making it past your lips.
Once you made it inside the football court, you found a few empty seats and sat down. You handed Yeonjun his soda, earning a peck on your cheek. "Hey!" you laughed, elbowing his side. "Stop, it's starting!" Kai interfered. And that's when the cheerleaders came out, dancing with the teams anthem before the footballers entered and the game started.
At the half time, the drama club presented their sketch which was hilarious. It was a parody involving the professors, how they were doing their lessons adding a funnier note. Even the professors laughted!
After the game finished, victorious, it was time for the art exhibition. Everybody moved to the amphitheatre where the students had decorated the walls with all their paintings. You had to admit, they did some pretty good job. But all Beomgyu could do was admire you. To him, you were more beautiful than the paintings with half your hair pushed up in a careful plait, the other half falling messily on your shoulders. The sky blue dress you wore swaying with your every movement, just like a fairy.
He could look at you for hours, laughing with stupid jokes Yeonjun did, talking to Kai about the meaning behind the paintings. And his heart couldn't stop leaping, almost hurting against his ribs but he didn't care. His chest was blooming every time you smiled at him, he thought his knees would give up.
A little before the art presentation finished, you all retreated to the classroom where you'd do your exhibition. You arranged the last details, Kai look one last time at the presentation, Yeonjun checked aroumd if any of the photos was missing, and he arranged the technical details such as lighting, sound check.
"Alright, nothing's missing. How about the presentation, is it ready? The lights, is everything set?" Yeonjun questioned, pacing up and down anxiously. "Hey Jun, calm down." Kai said, looking up from his laptop. "Kai's right." you said, "We did everything we could as best as we could. Just relax and enjoy it."
"As it pains me to admit it, you were a good leader Yeonjun and you did a good job. Now, let's do our best, hm?" Beomgyu added. Yeonjun exhaled in relief "Thank you guys. Without you, I wouldn't be able to make it work." he said a small smile reaching his features, "Let's do our best."
Soon, the room started filling with fellow classmates and their friends and family. Everyone slowly took their seats at the middle of the room for the presentation. "Alright, me and Kai go first and it's you two guys." Yeonjun said for the nth time. "We know Jun. Now how about you actually go up there." you said, "Come on, you'll do great!"
"Let's go?" Kai said. Yeonjun gulped hard, nodding in response and followed Kai towards the stage. You both bid your thumbs up to the other two boys before they went on stage.
The presentation went by smoothly without any technical problems. The people seemed fascinated when you presented the theme of the exhibition. After it was done, people were eager to see your work.
But Beomgyu didn't have the courage to roam around. He felt like his stomach was twisted, his hard beating so quick that he thought he'd had a heart attack at the ripe age of 20. Because you would see, your photo hanging at the wall, at his section, with his signature on it.
He sat by the window behind the scene, mind racing, hoping to disappear before disaster could strike. It was stupid. Goss, why didn't he listen to Yeonjun? He didn't know how much time passed but soon clapping echoed through the classroom and he snapped out of his trance.
"Hey Beomgyu, come on!" he heard Kai calling from somewhere behind the curtains. "You don't want to miss the concert!" Yeonjun added. Beomgyu slipped out from his hiding with the hope that he didn't have messed up big time after this exhibition.
"Hey man, where were you?" Yeonjun asked when finally Beomgyu came in sight. "Where's Kai?" he asked. "He's at the court already with Y/n." Yeonjun responded, "Where have you been?"
"I put the photo." Beomgyu said, his voice barely audible. "What ph- Ooo, that photo." Yeonjun responded, "And?"
"And... I don't know. I didn't see her after the presentation." Beomgyu muttered. "Wha- Are you stupid!?" Yeonjun exclaimed, shaking him by the shoulders. "I couldn't, what if I ruined everything?" Beomgyu said, his voice shaky at the edges. "Well, what happened can't be changed now and you can't avoid her forever. We have to go to the concert." Yeonjun responded.
"I'm not going." he said. Right now he wanted to crawl in his bed and never get up again. "And what after that, you're planning to never show up on uni anymore?" Yeonjun asked. "No. But there's an entire summer ahead and it'll be forgotten." Beomgyu replied, gaze downcast.
"But what if she doesn't want to forget?" Yeonjun said, "Let's go Beomgyu." already dragging him out.
In the end, Beomgyu found himself squeezing through the crowd, looking for you and Kai. "Over here!" Kai yelled, waving his hand in the air. "What took you so long?" you asked with your hands on your sides, "It's about to start!".
That's when all lights went out and the crowd fell silent. Then, the stage lights flashed open and drums echoed through the summer air, accompanied by an electric guitar and the voice of the singer, singing to «Sky full of stars».
For a while, he forgot all about his major worry and enjoyed the music, jumping at the rhythm alongside you. You looked so happy and carefree, smiling so brightly that subsidised all his worries.
Time passed in a haze of dancing and screaming lyrics to your favourite songs. The last song to play was «You!» a song he learnt from you. When the refrain started playing, the best part according to you, he felt your arms wrapping around his own, your head leaning on his shoulder. "You did nice work with your photos Gyu." you said next to his ear so to hear through the noise. "T-thanks." he responded, hoping you didn't catch the stutter in his voice.
"My favourite was «Sunsetz»." you continued, looking up at him. Beomgyu froze. You saw, of course you did. That meant you knew, you understood to bring this up...
"Mine too." he responded but it didn't make through the noise. That's when felt your hand resting on his cheek, your touch soft, like an angels. Before he could process it, your lips were on his in a sweet, gentle kiss. It all seized around him, the music dulled in his ears, his eyes falling shut, while his hand unconsciously found its way to your waist. All of him was revolved around this moment.
It didn't last long but it was enough to make his brain short-circuit. Your fingers carefully brushed a stray strand of hair from his face and you looked at him, really looked at him like all those barriers he so carefully built to protect himself from other people didn't exist.
His eyes were focued on you and only you, like no one else was there but you. "I like you." he said, more sure than ever. "I like you too Gyu." you responded with a knowing smile.
After the concert's end, Beomgyu accompanied you to your house. Walking side by side, silently, not need to fill the space with meaningless chatting. Your presence was enough for him to feel content.
He wasn't afraid anymore. He let his fingers intertwine with yours. And you held him, making his chest bloom with love. When you reached your apartment, you both just stood there, no one daring to leave first.
"I had fun today." Beomgyu said with a small smile that reflected in his eyes. "Me too." you responded, "Mind coming in for a while?" you asked, "I have something I want to give you."
Beomgyu nodded and followed you inside, closing the door behind him. "Wait a second." you said running off to your room. It didn't take you long come back, holding something in your that seemed like a piece of paper.
"Here." you said, handing it to him. Turns out it was a photograph of him. He was at the club classroom, standing by the window, his head turned slightly to the side with his headphones on and small smile spread across his lips.
"I didn't know what to do with this..." you trailed off, "I thought to keep it to myself, until I found the courage to give it to you. But after seeing the photo at the exhibition today, I don't need to wait anymore."
Beomgyu moved before his mind could process. He leaned in to kiss you, desperate but no less gentle. His both hands cradled your face, the photo falling somewhere on floor. His lips moved slow against yours, savouring the taste of you for as long as his breath would allow him.
When you pulled for air, an exploding noise came from the outside, followed by the faint, colourful lights in the dimly lit room.
You walked towards the window, opening it to the balcony. Beomgyu followed behind you, stepping outside. Countless fireworks were lighting up the sky from the fair, in all shapes and colours.
You were standing by the railing, smiling so brightly that he forgot fireworks were even there. He could look at you for hours, you looked so beautiful in his eyes. His arms wrapped around you from behind and you practically melted in his embrace.
Your head fell on his chest where his camera was hanging. You twisted around and took it off, pointing the lens towards you. "Let's take a picture to remember our first date!" you exclaimed, pulling him in the frame. "Say cheese!".
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Letters of Yesterday | H.K
⟢ Pairing: cursed writer!hueningkai x fem artist!reader ⟢ Genre: Angst, Slow-Burn, Bittersweet Ending
Summary: When love is as fragile as memory, Kai is cursed to forget everything—and everyone—he loves. No matter how deeply he feels, the magic erases him, leaving only blank pages where once there were memories. But Y/N refuses to give up, even when every day brings a new heartbreak. As she clings to the fleeting moments of their time together, she fights to keep their love alive, knowing that each day could be the last he remembers her.
In a cycle of forgotten smiles and vanished kisses, can love survive when memories are fleeting? Or will the price of holding on to Kai’s love be more than she can bear?
⟢ Word count: 9.1k
The curse had always been a part of Kai’s life, a shadow that loomed over him from the moment he understood the world. It was a dark family secret passed down from generation to generation—an affliction that claimed the memories of anyone he loved, but left the pain of their loss behind. His parents, distant and silent about it, had taught him to avoid forming attachments, to guard his heart. But the curse, no matter how much he tried to outrun it, was an inevitable fate. And in his heart, a part of him knew that one day, it would claim everything.
He was just a child when they told him. He remembered it vividly, his father’s voice trembling as he sat on the edge of Kai’s bed, explaining in hushed tones.
“Son, you have to understand… no one can escape this. It’s in our blood.”
Kai hadn’t understood at first, his childish mind unable to grasp the magnitude of what was being said. But as he grew older, the truth settled in like a weight on his chest.
The curse meant that Kai would forget everyone he loved. Every connection, every person who mattered would fade from his mind, erased as if they had never been there at all. And it wasn’t just the people who would disappear. Every feeling tied to them—the warmth of their smile, the sound of their laugh, the little things that made them irreplaceable—those would vanish too. The pain of losing them would remain, but the memories would slip through his fingers like sand, each loss more unbearable than the last.
It was a curse meant to keep him alone. And the more he thought about it, the more he understood how cruel it was. It stole memories, leaving only an ache. It was a life half-lived, a love half-loved.
But Kai couldn’t accept it.
From the moment he understood what the curse meant for him, Kai made a vow to himself. If he couldn’t hold on to the people he loved, then he would at least hold on to the memory of them. He would keep their faces alive in his mind, even if the details would fade. He would write them down, store them away like precious treasures.
He found an old wooden box one day, buried deep in the attic, and from then on, it became his ritual. Every time someone new entered his life, every time he felt his heart begin to open, Kai would write them a letter. Not just any letter, but one filled with the things he loved most about them—the way their voice sounded, the warmth of their touch, the way they made him feel safe and understood. He wrote down the moments that mattered most, as if they were the last ones he would ever have.
The box became his sanctuary, the one place where his memories could live on, even when his mind betrayed him. No one could open it but him. It was a fragile system, but it was all he had. The curse would take everything else. But the letters—those letters were his resistance.
And yet, as he sat there, writing another letter one evening, the weight of the curse pressed down on him harder than ever. The curse wasn’t just something that hovered on the horizon. It was here, now, in every moment. Every smile, every touch, every laugh, every tear. Kai knew that one day, all of it would fade away. He would forget. And the thought of it hurt more than he could bear.
It was a rainy afternoon when Kai first saw you. The kind of day that blurred the edges of the world, making everything feel like a memory that was already slipping away. You were sitting at the corner of a small café, your sketchbook open in front of you, completely absorbed in your art. The soft glow from the lamps above illuminated your figure, its warm and golden light a stark contrast to the dull and gray world around you.
Kai had never been a fan of crowded places, but on this particular day, he had no choice but to seek refuge inside. His footsteps echoed in the quiet café as he entered, shaking off the rain that clung to his coat. His gaze, as if pulled by a magnetic force, drifted to you.
You didn’t notice him at first, too focused on your drawing. Kai wasn’t sure what exactly it was that drew him in—the way your brow furrowed in concentration, the way your lips parted slightly as you hummed a soft tune to yourself, or the faintest trace of something wistful in your eyes when you paused to stare out the window.
But there was something. Something that made him pause, make a slow approach to the counter, his heart inexplicably racing.
The barista handed him his coffee with a polite smile, and Kai turned back to look at you. This time, you caught him staring.
“Can I help you with something?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, your eyes locking with his.
For a moment, Kai forgot how to breathe. He wasn’t used to this—being caught, being seen in such an open way. His eyes flickered downward, and he mumbled something about the weather before retreating to the farthest corner of the café, leaving you with a small smile on your face.
You didn’t press him, but something about his presence lingered in the air, as if he carried an invisible weight that tugged at your curiosity. Throughout the next few hours, as the rain continued to pour and the café filled with the soft hum of conversations and clinking mugs, you noticed him again and again—sitting, always with his notebook in front of him but never really writing, always distracted by something. You had no idea why, but there was an undeniable sadness about him, something hidden in the way his gaze would occasionally drift to your direction, only to quickly retreat when you looked back.
When you stood to leave, gathering your things and preparing to step out into the rain once more, Kai stood up too. It was impulsive, but something inside him urged him to speak.
“You... you’re an artist, aren’t you?” The words felt clumsy as they left his mouth. He winced inwardly, wondering why he was even talking to you. It wasn’t as if he could afford to form attachments, not with the curse always hanging over his head.
You smiled, a small, knowing smile that hinted at a playful kind of mystery. “Yes. And you?”
Kai hesitated, feeling the weight of his own silence, the years of solitude pressing down on him. But there was something about you—something about the way you didn’t look at him with pity or indifference. You simply saw him, in a way that few people ever had.
“I... write,” he replied. It was the simplest way to put it, though it felt like an understatement. His notebooks, filled with letters to himself, weren’t just a hobby—they were a lifeline.
You nodded, clearly intrigued. “What do you write about?”
The question caught him off guard. No one had ever asked him about his writing before, not in such an open, genuine way. He shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t tell you the truth. The letters weren’t meant to be shared. They were his secret, his private attempt to defy the curse that was slowly erasing him.
But still, something about you made him want to open up, to share.
“I... write about memories,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “About the things I want to remember. Even if I can’t.”
Your expression softened. “That sounds beautiful. I think everyone should write about the things they want to hold on to.”
Kai blinked, unsure of what to say. The words you spoke felt like a rare gift, a balm to a wound he hadn’t known how to address. He gave a small nod, more to himself than to you, before pushing open the door and stepping into the rain.
He never expected that brief encounter to change anything, but as he walked away, something shifted. The world felt just a little brighter, despite the persistent drizzle, and Kai found himself thinking about you in a way that felt... strange. The feeling was unfamiliar, like a forgotten dream drifting back to the surface.
And he knew, deep down, that he would see you again. That somehow, this brief moment had already begun to matter.
As the days passed, Kai found himself returning to that café more often than he ever had before. Each time, his steps led him to the same corner where you sat, sketchbook open, lost in your art. And each time, he couldn’t help but watch, his heart inexplicably drawn to the way you moved—so effortlessly, so naturally, as if you existed in a world of your own making.
It became a routine: the café, your art, and the growing, unspoken connection between the two of you. You never asked more of him than he was willing to give, and that was both a relief and a burden. He found solace in your presence, even if his mind never stopped warning him that it would all be fleeting, that he would forget you, just as he had forgotten so many others before.
One afternoon, after weeks of these quiet meetings, you sat down beside him with a cup of tea, your sketchbook resting on your lap.
“You’re always writing,” you remarked, your voice light but curious. “What is it you write about? You never share.”
Kai looked up, surprised by your bluntness, yet comforted by the familiarity of it. The way you spoke to him didn’t feel like an interrogation. It felt like an invitation, like you truly wanted to understand him.
“I write about people,” he said, his eyes flickering to the notebook in front of him. “People who matter. People I don’t want to forget.”
You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Why wouldn’t you want to forget them? Seems like a burden, doesn’t it?”
Kai’s heart ached at the simplicity of your question, the innocence with which you asked. You couldn’t possibly understand the weight of what he was saying, the curse that hung over him like a specter.
“It’s... complicated,” he replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. “For me, it’s a way of holding on. Of not losing everything I love.”
You watched him for a long moment, then leaned forward slightly, your eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “You’re scared of forgetting, aren’t you?”
Kai’s breath caught in his throat. How did you—how could you—know?
“I’m not scared of forgetting,” he said, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to remain calm. “I’m scared of forgetting you.”
There. He had said it. The truth that had been sitting on the edge of his lips for so long. He knew the moment the words left his mouth that they were dangerous, but they felt so right—so necessary—that he couldn’t take them back.
You didn’t say anything at first, and Kai immediately regretted it, feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t expected. But then you smiled softly, the warmth of it a balm to his frayed nerves.
“I’ll make sure you don’t forget me,” you said, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes. “How about that?”
Kai’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. How could you promise something like that? How could anyone promise something so impossible?
But instead of answering, he simply nodded. In that moment, there was no room for anything else but the aching hope that maybe—just maybe—you could break through the wall he’d built around his heart.
Weeks passed, and every time Kai saw you, he found himself writing more. Letters, poems, short descriptions—anything to capture the fleeting moments he shared with you. You were becoming his muse, the light in his otherwise bleak existence. Each word he wrote felt like an anchor, something to hold on to when the curse eventually came for him.
But then, one day, it happened. The first sign that the curse was beginning to take hold.
Kai had been sitting across from you at the café, a letter halfway finished, when he looked up and caught sight of the bracelet you were wearing. It was delicate, silver, with a small charm hanging from it that caught the light. A gift, he realized, but not from him.
“Where did you get that?” Kai asked, his voice sounding distant even to his own ears.
You looked down at your wrist, then back up at him with a gentle smile. “You gave it to me. Remember? For my birthday. We picked it out together.”
His heart stuttered, a sharp pain shooting through his chest. His hands trembled as he reached up, as if he could touch the memory itself, but it wasn’t there. The details were gone, wiped clean from his mind like they’d never existed.
“I... I don’t remember,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
You paused, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the reality of what was happening hit Kai with full force.
“I’m sorry,” he added, his voice barely audible, a lump forming in his throat. “I don’t remember giving it to you.”
You said nothing at first, just looked at him with a sadness and confusion that made Kai’s chest tighten painfully. But then, you reached over and took his hand gently in yours, the touch warm and grounding.
“It’s okay,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “Everyone forgets things sometimes, it’s normal. Hell, I even forgot what I ate for breakfast yesterday.”
Kai wanted to believe you. He desperately wanted to believe you. But the fear gnawed at him from the inside out, the creeping sense that everything was slipping away, piece by piece. The curse was real, and no matter how hard he tried, it would take everything from him in the end.
You stood up, then, the movement fluid, graceful, almost as if you were trying to pull him out of the dark thoughts that threatened to consume him. “Let’s go buy a new bracelet,” you said, a soft, encouraging smile on your lips. “We’ll pick something even more special, I’ll get you a matching one too, then I bet you won’t forget about it.”
And despite the crushing weight in his chest, despite the growing sense of dread, Kai followed you. For the first time in a long while, he let himself hope. Even if it was fleeting. Even if the curse would one day steal this moment too, he would hold on to it for as long as he could.
The days following the incident with the bracelet were a whirlwind of confusion and emotions. Kai’s fears—those deep, gnawing fears about the curse—had started to consume him. The more he tried to push them down, the more they clawed at his insides, demanding attention, reminding him that no matter how much he wanted to keep you in his life, it would never last. Not for long.
And so, he began to pull away.
It started small—his messages became less frequent, the invitations to hang out became few and far between. Kai was careful, though. He didn’t want you to feel abandoned, didn’t want you to think he didn’t care. But deep down, he believed that pulling away was the only way to protect you. The curse would take him eventually, it always did, and if he let you get too close, you would be hurt. That was a certainty he couldn’t avoid.
You, however, weren’t so easily deterred.
After a week of silence, when you hadn’t seen him at the café or heard from him at all, you decided to confront him. You knew something was wrong, and no amount of pretending on his part could hide it from you.
When you showed up at his apartment that evening, he was sitting by the window, staring out at the city below, lost in thought. His face was shadowed, unreadable. The air between you was thick with the weight of unsaid words.
“Why have you been avoiding me?” you asked, your voice steady but full of concern. “I’ve been trying to reach you. You’ve been shutting me out.”
Kai didn’t look at you right away. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers gripping the edge of the windowsill. He knew the moment you entered that room that you would ask him this question. He just didn’t know how to answer it.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally said, his voice quiet, barely audible. “I care about you too much to keep dragging you into this... into my mess.”
The words hit you like a physical blow, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you walked over and sat beside him, refusing to back down. “I don’t care about your mess, Kai. I care about you.”
He let out a breath, frustration leaking through his voice. “You don’t understand. You can’t. The curse… it’s not something you can just fix.”
You tilted your head, refusing to let him push you away. “Then explain it to me,” you said softly. “What curse? What is it you’re so afraid of?”
For a long moment, Kai said nothing. His heart raced in his chest, torn between the overwhelming urge to push you away and the undeniable need to finally tell you everything. Slowly, his eyes met yours, filled with pain and regret.
“I… I forget people,” he whispered, the words seeming too heavy to speak. “The people I love… I forget them. Over and over again. Every time I get too close to someone, the curse takes them away from me. And it’s not just them I forget. It’s everything. Everything that ever mattered.”
You blinked in confusion, not fully understanding the weight of his words. “You forget them?”
“Not just memories,” he continued, his voice strained. “I forget who they are. I forget their faces. I forget their names. And when I do remember, it’s always too late. By then, they’re already gone.”
Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to process what he was saying. “That’s… that’s horrible,” you whispered. “But why didn’t you tell me sooner? You’ve been pushing me away, Kai. I deserve to know.”
“I didn’t want you to stay out of pity,” he said bitterly, his hands gripping the edge of the windowsill until his knuckles turned white. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to fix me. I don’t want to be fixed. But I know that in the end, I’ll forget you. Just like everyone else.”
You reached out, taking his trembling hand into yours. “I’m not going anywhere,” you said firmly. “You don’t have to go through this alone. If there’s a way to break this curse, we’ll find it together.”
Kai looked up at you, tears welling in his eyes despite his attempts to hold them back. His heart ached, his mind screamed at him to push you away, but your words—your warmth—pulled him closer. For the first time in a long while, he felt something other than fear. It was a glimmer of hope.
You stayed with him that night, and the nights that followed. The two of you spent hours researching, diving into old books, talking to anyone who might have any knowledge of curses or memory loss. You scoured libraries, read through ancient texts, and even sought out experts, but time and again, you found nothing. The curse was a mystery, an enigma with no solution.
As the days passed, Kai’s fear only deepened. Every time he looked at you, every time he spoke to you, he was struck by the reality of what he might lose. But there you were, right beside him, holding his hand and refusing to let go. You wouldn’t leave him, not now.
It broke his heart to know that no matter how much he wanted to hold on to you, the curse would eventually take you from him. It was a truth he couldn’t escape.
Kai sat in the dim light of his apartment, the silence around him suffocating. The evening air was thick, carrying the scent of rain that had begun to fall outside. He hadn’t even realized how much time had passed, lost in his thoughts, paralyzed by the very thing he had been avoiding for months. His heart ached, not from the curse itself, but from the realization that the love he had for you was only going to be temporary.
It was as if his very existence had been rewritten to fade, just like his memories. The curse forced him to forget everyone he loved. Over and over again, he lost people, but the pain was always there, gnawing at him. Every time it happened, every time someone slipped through his fingers, the weight of that loss only grew heavier. He had been fine with it before. At least he thought he had been. After all, what choice did he have? But now… now that you were here, now that you were so important to him, the thought of losing you completely shattered him in ways he could never have imagined.
Kai stared down at the crumpled paper before him, the ink of his pen smeared slightly as his hands trembled. His thoughts were a mess, disjointed and desperate, the reality of his situation becoming clear in the most painful way possible. He could never confess his feelings to you. He couldn’t do that to you. The curse would take away his love, his memory of you, everything. And if he told you—if he allowed himself to truly love you—then when the curse took its toll, it would tear both of them apart. You’d be left with nothing but the broken pieces of a love that wasn’t meant to last.
And yet, he couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that overwhelmed him. Every time he saw you, every time you smiled, every time you laughed, it felt like his heart had a reason to beat again. But this was a fleeting joy. He couldn’t hold onto it. He couldn’t let you become the next casualty of his curse.
Kai took a deep breath, wiping his eyes before picking up the pen again. He wrote, not with the intention of ever showing it to you, but for himself. Maybe if he could put his feelings into words, they would somehow become more manageable. Maybe he could come to terms with this loss before it even happened.
"To my future self,
If you're reading this, then you’ve already lost her.
I don't know how, but I know it will happen. This curse... this cruel curse will erase everything, just like it always has. You won't remember her face. You won’t remember the sound of her voice, the way she laughs, or the way she makes you feel like you’ve finally found home. You won’t remember how her presence makes you feel alive, how she has this way of looking at you, this unspoken understanding, like you’re the only two people in the world.
But I need you to remember this—remember what it felt like to love her, even if you can’t remember her name. Remember the warmth of her touch, the kindness in her eyes. Hold onto that, no matter how much the memories fade.
You may not be able to hold onto her physically, but don’t let her slip completely. Don't forget how much you loved her, even if she doesn't exist in your mind anymore. You will lose everything. You will lose her. But don’t forget this: she was everything.
Please, don’t let her go, even if the curse makes you forget how much you care. She deserves better. She deserves all the love we had to give, and more. You’ll be broken when it happens. But I need you to remember… I need you to keep that love, even when you can’t feel it anymore.
I’m begging you, don’t let her leave. She’s worth every broken piece of us."
The ink dried on the paper as Kai folded the letter carefully, almost reverently, before placing it in the box with all the others. His chest was tight, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. There was no way to stop what was coming. He couldn’t protect you from the curse, no matter how much he wanted to. The pain of forgetting you—of forgetting the very essence of you—would be unbearable.
And yet, in the quiet of his room, surrounded by the evidence of his love for you, Kai felt as if he had already lost you. The letter he had written wasn’t just a plea—it was a desperate hope. A hope that, even if he couldn’t remember you, his future self would somehow carry the weight of this love with him, and that love would be enough, even in its broken state.
But deep down, he knew it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
As he laid down that night, the letter still fresh in his mind, he thought of you. He thought of your smile, of the way your hand fit perfectly in his, of the way you had slowly, gently, found your way into his heart. He didn’t want to forget you. He didn’t want to lose you.
But he knew it was inevitable.
And that was the hardest part.
The weeks had passed in a blur for Kai. The curse, as inevitable as it was painful, seemed to be growing stronger by the day. What had once been fleeting moments of forgotten details—small things like where he left his jacket or the name of a book he had been reading—had now become unsettling, disorienting waves. It was like a fog had settled into his mind, blotting out the things that mattered most.
Kai felt it creeping in, like a cold hand around his heart. The things he cherished, the people he loved—they were beginning to fade. The memories were no longer his own to keep. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how desperately he clung to them, they slipped away. And with each passing day, the pain of losing you became more unbearable.
One evening, as he sat at his kitchen table, the candlelight flickering on the surface, he felt a chill run through him. It wasn’t just the curse this time. No, it was something deeper, more overwhelming. It was you—your absence.
He stared down at the photo of the two of you together on the table, trying to place the memories, but they were slipping further from his grasp. He had forgotten the little things first: your favorite color, the way you liked your coffee, the sound of your laughter when you told a joke. Then, he began to forget the bigger moments: the way you first met, the promises you made to each other, even the quiet, tender moments when he had held you close.
But it wasn’t just the memories. It was you. He couldn’t remember your name. Turning the photo around, he sees your name, written in black ink next to his. Kai + Y/N = Besties Forever
“Y/N…” He whispered the name, as though testing it, hoping it would spark something inside him, but it didn’t. It felt distant, like a word he had once known but had now lost to time.
His breath hitched in his chest. "Who are you?" he thought, panic rising in his throat. "What am I forgetting?"
The panic swelled, drowning him in a deep, dark abyss. He grabbed the first thing he could find—one of the letters he had written to himself, one of the hundreds that were stored away in the box. He tore it open and began to read, his eyes scanning the words, the familiar handwriting that had once been his lifeline.
"Don’t let her leave. She’s worth every broken piece of us."
Kai’s chest tightened painfully as he read those words. His fingers trembled, the letter shaking in his hands. The words meant so much more now, piercing through the fog in his mind. They were a plea, a desperate cry from a future self who had already forgotten everything, everything that mattered to him.
“I love her.” The realization hit him like a wave, as if the memory of loving you had been hidden beneath layers of fog, waiting for this moment to break free. His heart ached with the weight of the truth. He loved you, but he couldn’t hold onto it. Not like this.
His tears blurred the ink on the page as he sank back into his chair, gasping for air. He clutched the letter tightly to his chest, like it could somehow save him from the pain. I love you, he thought again, the words so simple, so impossible. He couldn’t remember your face, your smile, the sound of your voice—but somehow, he still loved you.
The curse had taken everything from him, but it hadn’t taken his heart. At least, not yet.
The morning air was still, a fragile quiet hanging in the apartment as you waited for Kai to return from his errand. You had been visiting him more often lately, bringing him meals or simply sitting in the same room, offering a quiet comfort. The curse had taken its toll on both of you, and yet, in small moments, there was still some semblance of peace when you were together. Even in the face of the ever-growing loss, there was something deeply intimate about those moments—something you clung to.
You had arrived early that morning, hoping to surprise him with his favorite breakfast. As you set the table, you noticed something odd—a box hidden under the desk, tucked just out of sight. It wasn’t like Kai to leave things around like that, especially something so carefully concealed. Curiosity gnawed at you, and though you knew better, you couldn’t help but reach for it.
The box was heavier than you expected, the paper crinkling in your hands as you carefully lifted the lid. Inside, there were stacks of letters—neatly folded, each one dated, with Kai’s familiar handwriting on the front. Your fingers trembled as you pulled one out and read the first few lines.
At first, you thought they were just musings, idle thoughts that Kai often jotted down when he was alone. But as you continued reading, the words began to take shape, and with each sentence, the gravity of the situation became clearer. These were more than just thoughts. These were confessions.
Each letter was written to his future self—something you hadn’t known he had done. You had always known that Kai was a private person, but this—this was something else. He had been writing to himself, preserving pieces of his soul, just in case he lost them. The first few letters spoke of his growing fears, how the curse had begun to erode his memory in small, almost imperceptible ways. But with each passing letter, the tone changed. The fear turned into desperation. And there it was, one of the lines that took your breath away:
"She’s worth every broken piece of us."
The words swirled around in your mind, resonating with a pain that you hadn’t expected. You had known for a while that Kai was struggling with something—his slow drift into forgetfulness, the moments when he would lose himself completely in confusion. But you hadn’t realized just how much it had consumed him.
He had been fighting the curse, not only for himself, but for you. The love you shared had been slipping through his fingers, and yet he had been holding onto it, with every letter, with every desperate plea to himself.
Tears began to gather at the corners of your eyes. You wiped them away quickly, afraid to let them fall, but they came anyway. You couldn’t stop them. The depth of his feelings—the pain in his words—it all crashed over you. Kai loved you. And he had known, for all this time, that he wouldn’t be able to hold onto that love forever. But he had fought for it anyway, and in doing so, he had written to you, to himself, to anyone who might find the truth of his heart.
You picked up another letter, your heart aching with every word, and you read on. Each letter, each plea, each confession painted a picture of a man who loved deeply and was terrified of what was happening to him. He wrote about you, about the moments you shared, about how the curse had stolen everything but the love he felt for you. And in that love, he was still holding on.
As you read, the air around you seemed to thicken, the weight of the letters pressing down on your chest. The realization hit you like a wave—the man you loved, the man who had slowly become a stranger to you, had always known what was happening. He had always known that one day, he would forget you. But even with that knowledge, he had continued to love you with everything he had.
You sank to the floor, clutching the letters to your chest. You had always been the one to be strong for him, to offer him comfort when he needed it most, but now—now you were the one who felt lost. How could you ever show him how much these letters meant to you? How could you ever explain that even in his forgetfulness, even as the curse took more of him away, you would never stop loving him?
A sharp, painful sob escaped you, breaking the stillness of the room. You couldn’t hold it back any longer. The heartbreak of seeing his love, his anguish, all laid out in front of you—it was too much. Kai was fading, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
“He’s fighting so hard,” you thought, your chest tight with sorrow. “But I don’t know if I’m strong enough to fight this with him.”
But even through the pain, something in you refused to give up. You couldn’t let the love that Kai had so desperately held onto slip through your fingers. You couldn’t turn your back on him now—not when he needed you the most.
The sound of the front door opening made you jump, and you quickly wiped away your tears. Kai stood in the doorway, his eyes searching the room, his gaze landing on you.
“Y/N?” he asked, his voice quiet, unsure. "What’s going on?"
You stood up slowly, still holding the letters in your hands. You didn’t know what to say. The words felt like they were lodged in your throat, too heavy to escape. But in that moment, you realized that the letters weren’t just about Kai's love—they were about hope. They were about a future he wished for but feared he wouldn’t be able to reach. And you would fight with him to make sure that love, that hope, didn’t fade along with the memories.
You looked up at him, a shaky breath leaving your lips. “I found something,” you said, your voice faltering, but firm. “I found your letters.”
Kai froze, his face a mixture of surprise and guilt. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“I know,” you whispered, your heart breaking all over again. "I know you’ve been writing to yourself. I know everything, Kai."
His gaze softened, and a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in weeks flickered across his face. The weight of your words hung between you like a thread, fragile and delicate.
“You’re not alone in this,” you said, taking a step toward him. “I’ll be here, even when you forget. I’ll help you remember. I promise.”
And in that moment, you both understood: no matter how much Kai’s memories faded, no matter how many pieces of him were lost, you would fight for him. You would fight for the love that still lingered between you—because that love, despite everything, was worth it.
The day you had been dreading arrived. You woke up with a sense of heaviness in your chest, knowing that the curse had slowly been taking more from Kai. His memory was fading, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. The letters you had found the day before had only confirmed what you already feared. But you still hoped—hoped that maybe today, Kai would remember you.
When you arrived at his apartment that afternoon, you were met with a strange silence. Normally, Kai would greet you with that small smile, maybe a joke about how you always showed up with something for him to eat. But today, there was nothing. The door was slightly ajar, and as you entered, you found him sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the wall.
“Hey,” you said softly, stepping closer.
Kai looked up at you, but there was no recognition in his eyes. His gaze was distant, clouded with confusion.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice flat, almost disinterested. “Why are you here?”
A chill ran through you, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. It was like a punch to the gut, the way he looked at you like a stranger.
“Kai, it’s me… Y/N,” you said, your voice trembling. “You know me. Please… you have to remember.”
His brow furrowed as he stood up, taking a few steps back from you. “I don’t know you,” he said, his voice growing more firm. “Whoever you are, I don’t want any trouble. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”
The words stung more than anything you had ever heard from him. The man you loved, the one who had once been your closest friend, was now a stranger to you.
Panic gripped your heart, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You couldn’t lose him—not like this. Not when you still had a chance to remind him of who he was, who you were together.
“No, no, please don’t do that,” you said, holding your hands out in a placating gesture. “Kai, please listen to me. You’re not well. You don’t remember, but we—we’ve been through so much together.” You took a hesitant step toward him, searching his face for any sign of recognition. “Please, let me show you.” You grabbed his wrist and brought it next to yours. Showing him the matching bracelet you had bought together for both of you. “We got this together. remember? We picked them out together. I convinced you to get matching ones with me, remember? Don’t you dare forget about this, I told you I made sure you wouldn’t forget”
You dropped his wrist, watching his eyes flicker as he looked at it. There was a slight shift in his expression, like he was trying to grasp something just out of reach, but the confusion still clouded his face.
“Kai, we got this to remind us both that no matter what, we were always together,” you said, your voice soft but desperate. “Every time you wore it, it was a promise. A promise that we would never forget each other.”
He held your wrist, his fingers brushing back and forth against the bracelet. There was a brief moment where you both stood there, the weight of the silence settling in. But then, he just stared at it, his face blank.
“I don’t… I don’t remember,” he whispered, his voice cracking. The words broke something inside of you, the final piece of hope crumbling.
You swallowed, pushing past the lump in your throat. “Please, Kai. Please try to remember.”
There was no answer, just the quiet hum of the room, as you realized you weren’t getting through to him. The frustration, the heartbreak, was unbearable. But you refused to give up. “I have something—something important.”
You quickly ran around the apartment, scrambling to find the box of letters you had discovered earlier. It felt like an eternity as you searched through the drawers, the cabinets, before finally finding them tucked away in the corner of his desk. You grabbed the box, clutching it tightly as you returned to him.
“Please,” you whispered, your hands shaking as you held the box in front of him. “You need to read these. They’ll help you remember. I’m not lying to you, Kai. I swear. These letters—they’re from you. They’re from your heart. You wrote them to yourself. You’ve always known what’s happening to you.”
He stared at the box for a moment, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he took it from your hands, but his confusion didn’t seem to lessen. He opened one of the letters, scanning the words with a furrowed brow.
“‘Don’t let them leave,’” he read aloud, his voice shaky. “‘They’re worth every broken piece of us.’” His voice faltered as he looked up at you, his face clouded with sorrow. “What does this mean?”
You swallowed, your heart aching with each passing second. “It means that you loved me,” you said, your voice breaking. “You still love me. Even if you don’t remember it, Kai—please, don’t forget.”
As he read more of the letters, the room grew silent except for the soft rustling of paper. And then, Kai’s composure finally broke. The letters slipped from his hands, and he sank to the floor, his face twisted in pain. Tears filled his eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he was truly himself again—vulnerable, raw.
“I don’t want to forget,” he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion. “I don’t want to lose you… but it’s happening, isn’t it? Every day, I forget something. And the worst part is, I don’t even know if I’ll ever remember.”
You knelt down beside him, your hands gently reaching for his. “You will. We’ll find a way. I promise.”
But even as you spoke the words, you knew the truth—you didn’t know how much longer you could keep him from slipping away completely.
“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice so small, so fragile. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” you said firmly, your heart breaking for him. “I love you, Kai. And I’ll stay by your side, even if you forget me every single day. I’ll love you every time.”
The air between you was thick with the weight of your unspoken fears, but at that moment, there was nothing but love. Even in the face of everything, you couldn’t let him go. And neither could he.
The days that followed were a mixture of pain and small, precious moments of connection. Each time Kai forgot you, it was like losing him all over again. But each time, you reminded him of who you were, of the love you shared. Every morning, you greeted him with a soft smile, a quiet reassurance that you were still there, no matter how much he struggled to remember.
At first, it felt like an endless cycle. You would sit with him, gently telling stories of your past, hoping to jog his memory. You spoke of the first time you met, how you’d both been awkward, shy—how you had tried so hard to avoid that sudden, inexplicable pull toward each other. But something about him had always felt right, even in your early days of friendship. You reminded him of the long nights spent talking, the way you’d laughed until your stomachs hurt, how he had always been the one to help you when you needed it most.
And sometimes, when the silence between you grew heavy, you would find small ways to remind him—little touches, soft glances. You would let him trace the bracelet on your wrist, the one that matched his. The touch of his fingers against the metal, the way his hand would linger, gave you hope that maybe, just maybe, the memory of you would come back.
Kai had always been so different when he remembered. The walls he built up when he was lost in his confusion would crumble as soon as he recalled the way you had been there for him. You’d make him laugh, tell him ridiculous stories of your shared moments—those little inside jokes that only the two of you understood. You’d hold his hand as he laughed, feeling the warmth of him beside you, even if just for a fleeting moment.
There was a time, not long ago, when you sat down together on the couch after a long day. You started to tell him about the first time you painted together—how it had been messy, chaotic, but beautiful in its own way. He listened, still struggling to fully connect the pieces, but something in his eyes softened as he sat there, listening. You showed him the canvas you had both worked on, the colors that had splashed onto the surface, forming something that was imperfect but real.
“I don’t remember the first time we did this,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret. “But it sounds like something I would do.”
“You did,” you smiled, brushing your fingers over the painting. “We painted together and had a competition to see who could make the most ridiculous art. You won, but only because you made that ridiculous purple whale.”
A laugh escaped him, though it was laced with uncertainty. “A purple whale?”
“Yeah. Don’t you remember? You were so proud of it. It was huge, and it had these big, exaggerated eyes.”
His lips tugged into the slightest of smiles, the first you had seen in days. “I don’t remember that,” he murmured, but then he paused, his eyes locking with yours. “But I want to.”
“You will,” you promised softly. “We’ll keep painting. We’ll make new memories, even if it takes a thousand tries.”
And so you did. You spent hours together, making more art, more chaos, more laughter. The process was slow, but with each stroke of the brush, each color added to the canvas, Kai seemed to relax, his heart opening in ways that felt familiar, even if it wasn’t entirely whole yet.
One evening, you brought out a guitar and began to strum softly. It was something you used to do together, a way of passing the time, of reconnecting when words felt too heavy. You started with a simple melody, something that didn’t need to be said—just music to fill the space between you. Kai watched, unsure at first, but slowly he joined in, tapping his fingers against his leg in rhythm, his voice uncertain but getting stronger as you continued.
“This is how we always did it, wasn’t it?” you asked as you played. “You and me—making up songs, telling stories through music.”
Kai nodded slowly, his voice soft. “Yeah. I think… I think I remember.”
You smiled at him, the warmth between you both growing stronger with each moment you spent rebuilding what had been broken. Even if he couldn’t remember everything, even if the curse kept trying to tear you apart, you refused to let go. And Kai—though he was still lost in the fog of his memories—was holding onto you as tightly as he could.
In the evenings, after the music stopped and the painting was done, you would sit together in the quiet, just holding each other. No words were needed. You knew that as long as you kept telling him stories, as long as you kept showing him the love that had always been there, there was hope. Even if it was fleeting, even if it was only for a moment, Kai was still there. And you would never give up on him.
With each passing day, the memories might fade again. But you were determined to keep creating new ones. And when those old memories returned, you would be waiting, just as you always had been.
Even if it meant starting over each time, you were never going to let him forget that you loved him, and you always would.
Months had passed since the curse had first started, and in that time, you and Kai had settled into a fragile rhythm. There were good days—days where the fog in his mind seemed to lift just enough for him to remember fleeting moments, bits of laughter shared between you, the warmth of his hand in yours. But there were also bad days, where he looked at you with blank eyes, a stranger to him once again. Despite it all, you stayed.
Now, you lived together, sharing a space that once felt like a sanctuary but now held an undertone of pain. It was a daily battle, a fight to keep the love alive when it was constantly slipping away. But you couldn’t give up—not when he was fighting too, even if he didn’t fully understand why.
This morning, like every other, you woke before sunrise. The house was still, save for the soft sound of Kai’s breathing as he slept beside you. It was a routine at this point, you moved quietly, careful not to wake him, and grabbed your notebook from the nightstand. This had become a routine for you—to document the days, the moments you shared, the love you held onto so fiercely.
As you wrote, the words felt both familiar and painful. Yesterday had been one of those rare, beautiful days where Kai had laughed freely. You had baked cookies together, the kitchen a mess of flour and sugar, but neither of you had cared. You remembered the way his eyes had crinkled at the corners when he caught the flour on your nose, how he’d leaned over and kissed it off with a soft laugh. For a moment, you had forgotten the curse, forgotten the weight of everything that was slipping away.
But as always, reality crept back in.
You wrote, “Yesterday, you looked at me and smiled, like I wasn’t a stranger. Like we hadn’t been through this over and over again. I wish I could tell you that today would be different—that the curse will lift, and you will remember me completely.”
You paused, the words heavy in your chest. There was so much you wanted to say, but the pain of it all made it difficult. You ended the note with a final line, one you’ve written countless of time yet still feels like it had been ripped from your very soul: "Even when you forget me again, I will still love you with everything I have, Kai. I just wish you could remember that."
You placed the notebook carefully on the bedside table, leaving it open to the page you’d just written. With a quiet sigh, you climbed back under the covers and curled up beside Kai, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You closed your eyes, trying to quiet the whirlwind in your mind, but the ache in your heart remained. It was always there, even in the moments when you were together.
Kai woke slowly, the soft light of the morning creeping into the room. He turned his head toward you, his brow furrowing as he saw your sleeping form next to him. For a moment, he simply stared at you, his mind a blur of confusion. He had no memory of the night before, no recollection of who you were in that moment. The curse had taken another piece of him, and for the thousandth time, he didn’t know you.
The room felt empty despite your presence, as if a vital part of him was missing. His eyes fell on the open notebook beside him. He reached for it, his fingers trembling slightly as he read the words. His heart pounded in his chest as he read through your description of the day, your laugh, your love. His breath caught when he read the last line, the raw emotion that poured from it. He felt something shift inside him, an overwhelming sorrow and recognition that he couldn’t fully grasp.
He looked back at you, lying peacefully next to him, and something in his chest broke. He didn’t remember all of it, but he knew, in that moment, that you were everything to him. His confusion swirled with a deep, aching emptiness. He couldn’t recall how he had fallen in love with you, but he felt it now—so painfully, so deeply.
Without thinking, Kai slid closer to you, the vulnerability in his eyes clearer than ever. He gently pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair, holding onto you as if you were the one thing in the world that mattered. You stirred in his arms, and without even realizing it, you clung to him, your own tears threatening to fall.
You had always known the pain of his memory loss, the ache that came with seeing him forget you again and again. But this—this was something different. The rawness in his touch, the desperate need to hold you close, even though he had no idea who you were—it was more than you could bear. You whispered his name, your voice thick with emotion.
“Kai…”
He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours with confusion and pain. “I don’t know who you are,” he whispered, his voice raw. “But I... I know that I need you.”
Your heart clenched. You held him tighter, your tears silently falling as you pressed your cheek to his chest. “You’re not lost, Kai. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Despite the unfamiliarity, despite the confusion that still clouded his mind, Kai held you with everything he had. He didn’t understand what was happening or why his memories were slipping through his fingers like sand, but he knew one thing: you were his anchor. You were the one person who made sense in the chaos of his mind.
And for a moment, you allowed yourself to hope—hope that this time, no matter how many times he forgot you, you would never let go of him. Even if it meant living through the pain of his memory loss again and again, you would hold on. Because he was worth it. Every single time.
© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025
Rei's Notes ✎: Tadaaa, another fic again this month, I hope this gave you the feels the same way it did for me while I was writing it. I had “Would you fall in love with me again” from epic the musical on repeat while writing this.
Thanks a lot to @beomiracles for beta reading part of this story!! Lots of love to her~ Not much else to say honestly, so I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts!!!
⟢ Taglist: @yunverie @dawngyu @hueningstar @hhoneyhan @immelissaaa @lovingbeomgyudayone @xylatox @soobabby @i-like-to-read-at-4am
HOW TO HEX A HEART k.th
೨౿ ⠀ ׅ ⠀ ̇ 7.5K ⸝⸝ . ׅ ⸺ word count.
pairing s𝜗𝜚 ravenclaw ! taehyun ៹ hufflepuff ! reader ᧁ; angst ˒ fantasy ˒ hogwarts au
warnings ⊹₊ ⋆ angst hogwarts au grumpy x sunshine academic rivals to lovers yearning characters are aged up set in a college like hogwarts setting ft sunoo (enhypen)
in which୨୧ ㅤִ Love was sacred, love was rare, love was fleeting...but Taehyun wanted none of it. Instead searching for a fullfilling life in the pages of texts books and viles filled with potions, your cheery personality and natural smarts did little for his ego and too much damage to his high standings in all of Hogwarts academics. He must put a stop to it...if he wished to stay on top.
★ !rain's mic is on ⋆ ͘ . chat I'm so excited!! This is apart of a collab I'm doing with my fellow writers and friends: the nine and three quarters collab. I hope ya'll enjoy. guys I actually hate how rushed this is. I'm sorry!! i wrote it ages ago for our event and it’s been siting in the drafts for a while now, i can honestly say….its not even nearly close to my best work. i wish it was better because taehyun deserve better! i’ll be writing my coraline fic soon as a redemption arc for tae, i swear by it!
The dungeon was alive with a symphony of simmering cauldrons and chattering students, the air thick with the sharp tang of fluxweed and the earthy musk of powdered root of asphodel. Candles floated above the stone tables, flickering with a lazy indifference, casting golden halos across glass vials and worn parchment. You sat hunched over your cauldron, stirring clockwise; then counterclockwise, exactly as the textbook instructed, though you liked to think you added a little flair to your technique. Beside you, Sunoo leaned over to check your progress, his face drawn in a mix of admiration and mild panic.
“I swear mine’s more brown than bronze,” he whispered, frowning at his own mixture.
“It’s because you’re overthinking it again,” you giggled, nudging him gently. “You have to let the potion speak to you. Feel the ingredients. Make a little magic of your own, y’know?” He rolled his eyes but smiled, accustomed to your blend of mysticism and mischief. You were sunshine in a bottle, golden, glowing, maybe a little overwhelming on days like this, but endlessly kind, brimming with a passion for the craft that made even the most monotonous ingredients feel like keys to a hidden kingdom. You adored Potions. It was alchemy and artistry, mystery and discipline, all bubbling into something beautiful.
“Alright, ingredients table, now!” barked Professor Oakenhart from the front of the class, his robes flaring dramatically as he paced. “Step carefully. If you spill the unicorn hair again, Nott, I will make you polish the cauldrons with your tears.” You perked up immediately, hand shooting into the air before anyone else could even blink. “I’ll go!” you chimed, hopping up from your stool and bouncing toward the table with a spring in your step.
But in your unbridled enthusiasm, you didn’t see him. Kang Taehyun. Towering. Silent. Cold as the dungeons themselves and twice as sharp. He was the kind of student who didn’t just read the textbook — he memorized the footnotes, corrected the professor’s misquotes, and brewed potions with the precision of a seasoned apothecary. And he hated you. Not in the way someone hates a rainstorm or a bad meal; no, he hated you with purpose. Your effortless charm, your laughter echoing across the corridors, the way professors smiled just a little too brightly when you answered questions correctly. Worst of all, you matched him. In test scores, potion grades, practicals. You were sunshine to his storm cloud. And it infuriated him.
So when you turned and smacked straight into his chest, your half-filled vial of brewed Knotgrass solution flying from your hand and splattering all across the front of his pristine uniform, it was more than an accident. It was an act of war. “Oh—oh my god—I didn’t see you—! I’m so sorry!” you gasped, hands fluttering uselessly in the air, unsure whether to mop it up or vanish into the floor. “It was an accident, really, I didn’t—”
“Obviously it was an accident,” Taehyun cut in, voice cold and clipped, The potion dripped from his vest in sluggish streaks, soaking into the ravenclaw blue. “Next time, try looking where you're going instead of skipping around like some deranged fairy” You blinked, momentarily stunned by the venom in his tone.
“I—” But he was already striding off toward Professor Oakenhart, presumably to report the offense and extract his revenge in the form of docked house points or an extra essay. The silence he left in his wake felt oddly loud, like someone had extinguished the warmth in the room. You returned to your seat with what you hoped was dignity, though your cheeks burned and your heart thudded a little too loudly in your chest. Sunoo was watching you, eyes wide.
“That was brutal,” he whispered. “Are you alright?” You forced a bright smile, even though the potion fumes still clung to your nose and your pride felt a bit bruised. “Just peachy!” you chirped, plopping back onto your stool and picking up your ladle. “Besides, a little Knotgrass never hurt anyone. Except maybe his ego.”
Sunoo snorted into his sleeve. Somewhere behind you, you swore you could feel Taehyun’s glare like a knife to your spine.
Professor Oakenhart clapped his hands for silence, the crystalline ting-ting-ting of his silver rings against his wand echoing through the vaulted stone. Bubbling cauldrons fell obediently to a hush, the once-lively chatter collapsing into a hush so complete you could hear the delicate pop of fluxweed bladders bursting in the brew. Oakenhart let the hush linger, he enjoyed suspense the way a sphinx savors riddles; before letting his voice pour down like cold mountain water.
“Next year’s class prefect,” he announced, letting the words hang, “will be chosen in three weeks’ time. The badge will go”, his dark eyes skimmed the room, “to the student who best embodies the virtues that keep this ancient castle alive: scholarly excellence, unwavering helpfulness, and the kind of leadership that does not require howling at those beneath you.” His gaze flicked, ever so briefly, toward the Ravenclaw benches, then to you in your Hufflepuff yellow, where you sat up straighter on reflex. A hush of anticipation prickled through the air, sparking like powdered moonstone hitting hot embers.
It took no more than a heartbeat for both your hands and Taehyun’s to shoot skyward, mirror images of ambition in two very different skins. Your arm rose with sunshine optimism, sleeve fluttering like a pennant above a castle tower; Taehyun’s lifted with predatory precision, elbow locked, fingers slicing the air as if claiming rightful territory. Two comets on intersecting orbits. “Questions?” Oakenhart invited, his thin smile hinting that questions were only respectable if they tasted of genuine curiosity and not vanity.
Taehyun noticed you first, noticed the way your fingertips wiggled for attention as though determined to catch falling starlight, and a quiet scuff of disapproval hissed past his teeth. “Little miss perfect,” he muttered under his breath, the phrase delivered like a curse brewed from nettle and spite. But the professor’s nod landed on you, not him. You stood, straightening your robes with a soft brush of palms, and the dungeon’s torchlight caught the hopeful glimmer in your eyes. “Professor,” you began, voice warm as summer rain, “will academic collaboration — tutoring students outside one’s own house, for example; count toward the leadership criterion, or is it measured strictly by individual achievement?” The question sailed across the room, thoughtful and earnest, carrying the faint scent of cinnamon from the potion still clinging to your cuffs.
Taehyun’s scoff was immediate, a low, velvety sound of contempt. “It’s hardly rocket science,” he drawled, loud enough for the nearest cauldrons to tremble. “Prefects inspire excellence, they don’t spoon-feed it. Obviously individual performance weighs heaviest.” His sarcasm slithered through the air like a smoky serpent, confident that everyone would see the answer as plain as daylight.
Instead of bristling, you turned to him with the brightness of a heliotrope bending toward dawn. You dipped your head, just a fraction and let a beatific smile unfurl, soft and sincere. “Thank you, Taehyun,” you replied, voice edged with honeyed cordiality. “But I find that shining your light helps others see where they’re going, and what’s leadership if not lighting the path?” Your gentle retort glimmered with the audacity of grace, and the dungeon seemed to flicker brighter for a heartbeat. The sight of your tilted head and unconquerable optimism struck Taehyun like a spell gone awry. A low, involuntary snarl rasped from his throat, a feral sound quickly smothered behind a pursed line of lips, but not before you caught it, not before half the class saw the flash of winter in his eyes. The tension between you twanged like a harp string wound too tight: one pluck away from music, one tug away from breaking.
Professor Oakenhart cleared his throat, once, sharply, expelling the storm before it could fully gather. “An astute question, Miss, Yes, mentorship and cross-house assistance will be tallied.” He inclined his head toward you with a hint of approval, then pivoted to Taehyun. “Mr. Kang, if you have a different inquiry, do raise your hand properly rather than providing commentary mid-air.” A ripple of muted laughter swept the benches, but your gaze held steady on Taehyun’s. Where his irises turned to flint, yours softened to amber, and in that quiet, smoldering stalemate something unspoken sparked, an ember that might turn to wildfire or to warmth, given time and care. For now, though, it merely glowed, pulsing in the shadowed dungeon like a promise you both refused to name.
Sunoo nudged your elbow the moment you sat, wide-eyed and whispering, “I think you just poked a Hungarian Horntail.” You responded with an easy grin, quill poised to continue your notes. “Better a Horntail awake,” you murmured, “than a dragon who never learns how bright fire can be.” Across the aisle, Taehyun pressed a palm flat to the cool desk, steadying himself against the tremor of unfamiliar emotion. His quill scratched furious strokes into his parchment; ink as dark as midnight vows, but beneath that practiced scowl, a new question brewed in secret: How does one extinguish sunshine…without first stepping into its light?
After the classroom became a quiet hush, everyone working silently alongside their partners, Professor Oakenheart instructs Taehyun and yourself to rise and follow him to his desk. “You will both report to the potion storeroom tonight. Seven o’clock. No excuses. And no magic.” He says with a sigh. “I cannot have students arguing in class, it’s unsavory.”
“Yes, Mr. Oakenheart.” You say with the downward tilt of your head. Taehyun didn’t say a word. His robes still glistened from your accidental splash, the potion drying in uneven patches across his sleeve. He glanced at you once, briefly, with all the warmth of a midwinter frost, then turned away.
You walk back to your seat next to Sunoo solemnly, sitting down next to him silently. Sunoo whispered, “You’re cursed,” under his breath as you sat back down. You grinned and whispered back, “Just peachy.”
–
Seven o’clock arrived like a tolling bell, and the potion storeroom, usually locked, usually silent, opened with a low groan as Professor Oakenhart wordlessly ushered you both inside. The room was narrow and cluttered, lit by a handful of enchanted lanterns that hovered in lazy loops, casting golden light onto rows of old wooden shelves. Vials of powdered roots and dried wings lined the walls, their labels yellowed and curling at the edges. The air was rich with the scent of earth and time; rosehips, wolfsbane, peppermint, and mildew. “You’ll sort and organize all of this,” the professor said, gesturing to a chaotic pile of unbottled ingredients and stained glassware stacked across the center table. “Without the use of wands. You leave when it’s done.”
Then he left, the heavy door clicking shut behind him with an ominous finality. You turned to Taehyun with a sheepish smile. “Well… could be worse.”
Taehyun didn’t even glance at you. “Could be over faster if you stopped talking.”
“Oh, come on,” you said, grabbing a jar of shriveled billywig stingers. “You act like I spilled that potion on purpose.”
“You didn’t not spill it,” he muttered, picking through a box of dried dittany leaves with the care of a jeweler inspecting glass. “You’re always fluttering around like a butterfly with no sense of direction. No wonder you can’t stay upright.” You rolled your eyes and tossed your hair back defiantly. “You’re so dramatic. One splash of Dreamless Sleep on your sleeve and you act like I’ve ruined your career.”
“That potion was for me, actually,” he snapped. “A concentration tonic. For my study schedule. Unlike you, I don’t need to flirt my way through classes.” The words hit like a slap; sharp, misplaced, and far too personal.
You blinked. “I wasn’t flirting, Taehyun.” He didn’t reply. Just turned, his fingers tight around the neck of a decanter filled with bluebell essence. The silence stretched long and brittle. You turned back to the shelves, trying to focus on alphabetizing vials instead of the heat rising to your cheeks. You hated that he could twist your sunshine into something shallow. You hated that it hurt a little, even if you knew better. It was when you were climbing a rickety step stool to reach a jar of flobberworm mucus that it happened, your foot caught on a crooked rung, and the world tilted sharply. You yelped, arms flailing for balance, but gravity was faster.
And Taehyun; curse him, was there. He caught you by the waist in a startled breath, your chest nearly colliding with his, both of you frozen in a strange, suspended heartbeat. For one unbearable second, the air was different. He smelled like cloves and parchment and the faint memory of apples. His hands were warm through the fabric of your robes. Your face was tilted up to his, and his jaw tightened like he was holding back a thought that tasted too much like truth. Then he let go.
You stumbled back with a startled gasp, catching yourself against a shelf just in time to stop an entire row of beetle eyes from toppling to the floor. “You—!” you started.
“I’m not your babysitter,” he snapped, brushing his hands down his robes like your presence had scorched him. “You’re so dramatic,” you said again, this time with venom. “One second you’re catching me, the next you act like I’ve hexed you.”
“And you’re unbearable,” he bit out, his voice low and dangerous. “Always smiling, always talking, always pretending the world is sugar and stars. It’s exhausting.” You stared at him, chest heaving, the light from the lanterns catching the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the irritated furrow in his brow. But underneath all that anger; buried like a secret, was something else.
You exhaled slowly. “Maybe it’s not pretend.” Taehyun said nothing. Just turned back to his work, jaw clenched, knuckles white where they gripped a jar of valerian root.
You returned to the pile of unsorted ingredients with a huff, brushing the dust from your skirt and refusing to meet his eyes. The silence between you wasn’t peaceful, it was brittle, strained, the kind of silence that creaked like a staircase in an old manor, aching to be broken. Taehyun was the one who cracked first. “Maybe if you focused half as much on your work as you do on being liked, you wouldn’t be in detention.”
You turned sharply, a vial of crushed lovage seeds in one hand. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Oh, I did. I’m just stunned you think being liked is a flaw.”
He scoffed, not looking up from the set of empty phials he was aligning by size. “Popularity isn’t the same as talent.”
“And coldness isn’t the same as intelligence,” you snapped. “Just because you glare through every lecture doesn’t make you smarter than everyone else.” He finally turned to face you, eyes flashing like lightning behind stormcloud lashes. “I’m not cold. I’m focused. There’s a difference.”
You stepped closer, your arms crossed now, potion dust glittering faintly on your sleeves like constellation flecks. “You’re so scared someone else might outshine you that you treat everyone like competition.”
“No one has outshined me,” he replied, voice like steel. “Until you.”
The silence that followed was a strange one. Thicker. Quieter. Like the world had taken a step back to let those words hang between you — taunting, trembling, true. You blinked. “What?”
He looked away too fast. “Forget it.”
“No, you said—” You took a step closer, your heart thudding, not from the argument, but from the accidental confession strung beneath it. “You said until me. You think I’ve outshined you?”
“I think you’re exhausting,” he muttered, back to organizing now with unnecessary force, placing bottles like they’d offended him personally. “You breeze through everything like it’s easy. People like you. Professors praise you. And somehow, despite all your little smiles and your sunshine-and-daisies attitude, you’re still top of the class.” You stared at him, stunned. “You think I haven’t worked for this?”
“I think you’ve never needed to work as hard,” he hissed, not cruel but bitter, like it was a wound he’d carried for too long. “You show up and everyone adores you. I have to fight for everything.”
Your voice softened. “That’s not my fault, Taehyun.” He paused, a jar of dried mint frozen in his hand.
“No,” he said, after a breath. “It’s not. But it still feels like I’m running a race you get to skip the hurdles for.” You didn’t know what to say to that. The space between you wasn’t so wide now. Just one potion-stained table and a pile of unsaid things.
“I don’t try to make you feel that way,” you said, quieter now. “I just… I like being here. I like learning. I like this world. It’s not about beating you.” Taehyun exhaled, slowly. “It’s always been about beating me.” You looked at him then; really looked. The precision of his posture. The tension in his shoulders. The fury not just with you, but with himself. With his need to win. And buried beneath that, the fear of what it might mean to lose to someone like you.
“Maybe,” you said gently, “it doesn’t have to be a race.” He looked up, and for the first time, he didn’t seem angry. Just tired. And quietly, painfully aware of you in a way that went far deeper than rivalry ever could. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said, but his voice had lost its edge.
You tilted your head and smiled; not mockingly, but softly. “Maybe I would.” He didn’t smile back.
–
The sky was ink-blue, bruised with stars. The Astronomy Tower stood quiet, wind whispering through the slits in the stone as if the castle itself was holding its breath. The hour was late enough that most students had turned in, their dormitories dim with drowsy candlelight and dreams. But you couldn’t sleep. Something in the air tonight felt unsettled. Heavy. Like the prelude to a storm, but not one outside.
A strange instinct tugged at you; soft and insistent. So you wandered, slippers padding across stone, drawn not by sound but by silence. You found him there. Taehyun. Perched on the low ledge of the Astronomy Tower with his knees pulled up and his arms resting on them, his robes dark against the greystone, face upturned toward a sky he didn’t seem to be seeing. There was something wrong in the stillness of him.
He was always sharp in class, always stiff with pride, always holding himself like a blade; ready to cut, ready to be cut. But here, under the stars, he looked… tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep could fix. The kind that came from being measured too often. From being whittled down into something small and perfect and hollow. You approached gently, your footsteps careful. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you at all. Just kept his gaze fixed forward, eyes unreadable, expression carved from stone.
But you saw the parchment clutched in one hand, wrinkled and shaking slightly in the wind. You didn’t ask what it said. You didn’t need to. The way his shoulders curled inward, the way his mouth pressed into a thin, unfeeling line; it told you enough. So you sat beside him. You didn’t speak. Didn’t press. Just opened your satchel and wordlessly held out a Chocolate Frog, your last one. You kept it for exam days and rainy Sundays, but tonight, it felt like he needed it more than you. For a second, he didn’t move. Then, without looking at you, he took it. His fingers brushed yours. Cold. Tense. But real.
You didn’t smile. You didn’t tease. You just sat beside him in silence, letting the stars be the only witnesses. Letting the wind pass between you like breath. Letting kindness be quiet and simple and soft. And when you left, he still hadn’t spoken. Still hadn’t looked at you. But the Chocolate Frog wrapper sat folded neatly on the ledge when you returned the next day.
The next morning in Potions, everything feels almost normal. Almost. You and Sunoo arrive late, breathless from a stairwell that decided halfway through to rotate in the wrong direction. Professor Oakenhart levels you both with a tired glare, but waves you in without comment. You settle into your seat and reach for your ingredients; belladonna, porcupine quills, armadillo bile, your fingers moving on instinct while your mind drifts elsewhere.
To the Astronomy Tower. To the letter he never spoke of. To the way he never thanked you. To the way you hadn’t needed him to. It happens so fast you barely register it. A soft pop. A hiss. The sharp crack of glass. And then, boom. Your cauldron erupts in a bloom of green smoke and sparks, a chemical chaos that splashes up in a hot rush of steam and acrid potion. You flinch, arms flying up to protect your face, heart hammering in your throat. But nothing touches you.
Because in the heartbeat before the blast, a shield spell snaps into place; silver and curved like a falling star, held firm by a voice you know too well. “Protego.” When the smoke clears, you’re blinking through tears, more from shock than anything and coughing through the haze. Your cauldron is scorched, bubbling like a wounded beast, and Sunoo is somewhere under the table muttering prayers.
But all you can see is Taehyun. Standing across the aisle. His wand still raised. His hair mussed slightly from the force of the blast. His robes dusted with soot and powdered nettle. He says nothing. Just looks at you for one long, unreadable moment. Then lowers his wand, turns on his heel, and walks back to his seat like nothing happened. You stare after him, stunned. Because it wasn’t like him to help. It wasn’t like him to notice. But he had. And something in your chest warms like sunlight over frost.
The Professor grumbles something about careless brewing, assigns a week’s worth of clean-up duties, and moves on. But you don’t care. You’re still staring at the back of Taehyun’s head, and the words you didn’t say last night echo louder now than ever: Maybe it doesn’t have to be a race.
–
Snow had draped itself over the castle like a dream.
Hogwarts shimmered under winter’s enchantment, its towers crowned with frost, its courtyards glowing gold with fairy lights. Students bustled about in robes lined with velvet, their laughter rising with each breath like smoke into the star-splattered sky. Tonight wasn’t the Yule Ball, not exactly, it was something smaller, softer. A midwinter celebration organized by the Prefects and Professors: music in the Great Hall, warm drinks passed from student to student, and the magic of December clinging to every flickering candle. You arrived with Sunoo, cheeks flushed, hair kissed with snow. Laughter danced on your lips before you even crossed the threshold, Sunoo telling a joke that made your sides ache, your friends gathering around like stars drawn to your gravity. You were radiant in your winter robes, something golden in your grin. You loved nights like this. Nights full of warmth and wonder. Nights where the world felt like it belonged to you.
He was already there. Taehyun stood on the far edge of the room, near the refreshment table but untouched by it. Alone. Always alone. His Ravenclaw blue scarf hung loose around his neck, frost still clinging to the hems of his sleeves, and his expression unreadable, carved from cool stone.You didn’t notice him at first. Not really. Not until someone asked you to dance.
It was a boy from Gryffindor, tall, smiling, a little shy. He offered you his hand and you, ever the sun, said yes without hesitation. Your friends cheered. Sunoo nudged you playfully. And soon, the two of you were spinning between floating candles, the music lifting your steps, your laughter like honey and light. Taehyun noticed. He noticed the way your head tipped back when you laughed. The way your hands fit so easily into someone else’s. The way you looked, joyful, unguarded, lovely, and not at all like the girl who once gave him her last Chocolate Frog in silence.
He didn’t stay. He turned before he could think better of it, his footsteps soundless on the marble. The corridor outside the Great Hall was quiet, save for the distant hum of music and the soft hush of falling snow through an open window. He didn’t know why he left. Or maybe he did, but he didn’t have the words for it. He just knew he hated watching someone else hold your smile. So he left. And you followed.
You found him near the foot of the grand staircase, his back to you, the golden candlelight brushing against his shoulders, setting soft fire to the edges of his silhouette. “Taehyun.”
He didn’t turn. You stepped closer. “You left early.”
“I wasn’t enjoying myself.”
“Why not?”
A beat. Then: “You looked like you were.”
There was something sharp in the way he said it. Something jealous. Something that trembled beneath the surface, unwilling to admit what it truly was. You folded your arms. “So you were watching me.” He turned to you then, slowly. His expression unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes were thunderclouds.
“You always want people to look at you,” he said, low and quiet. “So don’t act surprised when they do.”
Your breath caught, more from the venom than the words themselves. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you always have to be seen, don’t you? Always the center of the room. Always dancing, laughing, shining — like you need everyone’s attention to survive.” You flinched. But you stood your ground. “And you push everyone away because you’re afraid they’ll see something you’re hiding.”
“Better than parading around like you have nothing to hide.”
“At least I’m not cruel about it.” You quip back, hurt.
“Oh?” he snapped. “You think I’m cruel because I don’t fawn over your every word? Because I don’t melt under your smiles like everyone else does?”
“No,” you said, stepping closer now, your voice trembling not with fear but with fury. “I think you’re cruel because you can’t stand that someone else might be your equal.” His jaw clenched.
“And because you’re angry,” you whispered, “that I make you feel something you can’t control.” Silence. Thick, aching silence.
“You’re insufferable,” he breathed.
“And you’re impossible.”
“I hate the way you laugh.”
“I hate the way you lie.” A pause. A breath.
“I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you.” Your breath catches in your throat. Your mouth suddenly like cotton.
Then, like a flicker of a flame Taehyun was kissing you. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire meeting fire, snow melting on burning skin. His mouth met yours with all the tension of months pressed into a single, trembling heartbeat. He kissed you like he was trying to erase every insult, every rivalry, every bitter word. You kissed him like you’d been waiting for him to stop running. When you pulled apart, breathless, your hands still clutched his robes. He stared at you, stunned. Like he hadn’t meant to do it. Like he wanted to do it again.
You smirked, the corner of your mouth curling just so. “Still hate me?”
His lips twitched. “More than ever.” But his voice was hoarse. And his fingers didn’t let go.
Morning broke cold and silver, the kind of pale light that softened the snow but sharpened the air. In the Great Hall, everything looked the same. Students chattered over toast and pumpkin juice, scarves half-tangled around their necks, steam curling from mugs like the remnants of dreams. The enchanted ceiling swirled with drifting snowflakes and a pale winter sky. But something was off-kilter in the space around you. Something missing You scanned the tables without thinking, eyes flickering past familiar faces. Sunoo noticed, you could feel his gaze as you forced a too-bright smile, buttered your toast with robotic precision.
“Did something happen last night?” he asked, voice soft, careful.
You shrugged, looking down at your plate. “Nothing.” But your hands trembled. And Taehyun wasn’t at his usual place near the end of the Ravenclaw table. Not that you were watching. Not that you were waiting. But still. You saw him again outside the library, later that morning. His robes were immaculate as always, scarf draped neatly over one shoulder, a book in his hand he wasn’t reading. You approached him cautiously, your heart fluttering like a sparrow trapped in your ribs.
“Taehyun,” you said, gently, like the name itself might break if you spoke it too loud. His eyes flicked up. Cold. Unbothered. Your smile faltered.
“Can we talk?” you asked, hands twisting in the hem of your sweater.
“No.” Just like that. Clipped. Sharp.
You blinked. “What?”
“I said no.” Something inside you shrank, just a little. “Taehyun… what happened last night—”
“Was a mistake.” The words hit like a slap. You felt the breath leave your lungs, staggered by the sudden, cruel distance of him. “You kissed me,” you said, voice small, cracking. “You said—”
“I got caught up in the moment.” His tone was flat, practiced. Like he’d already rehearsed these lines. Like he’d spent the whole night scrubbing every softness out of himself. “It didn’t mean anything.” The world tilted. Your lips parted, your voice caught in your throat. You could feel the sting building in your chest, behind your eyes. He didn’t look at you, wouldn’t. His gaze stayed fixed on the spines of books he wasn’t reading, as if pretending you weren’t there would erase what happened.
“I thought you—” You bit your lip, hard. Swallowed. “I thought you cared.”
“I don’t.” It was brutal, how easy he made it sound. And that was what broke you.
You turned before he could see the tears spill, before your voice could crumble entirely. You ran, not caring who saw, not caring where you were going, just needing to escape the weight of that hallway, of his voice still echoing inside you like the last note of a song gone wrong. Snow flurried around you as you burst outside, not feeling the cold through the heat in your cheeks. The castle loomed behind you, windows glowing warm with light you couldn’t bear to be near.
You collapsed beneath the shadow of a tree near the lake, the frost crunching beneath your knees, and let yourself cry. Quietly, messily. Like the sky had fallen only for you. You hated how much you’d hoped. Hated that one kiss had unraveled you. Hated that even now, even with his cruelty still ringing in your ears… You still wanted to believe he didn’t mean it.
The next morning came like a betrayal. Sunlight poured through the dormitory windows, golden and gentle, but it felt wrong against your skin. The castle still breathed with its usual rhythm, owls cooing in the distance, portraits murmuring, fireplaces crackling softly, but none of it reached you. It was as though something inside you had gone still. Quiet in a way that even your cheer couldn’t touch. You sat beside Sunoo in the Great Hall, picking at your breakfast with no real interest. Your usual glow was gone, dulled into something shadowed and quiet.
Sunoo nudged you gently with his shoulder. “You didn’t say much last night.” You didn’t meet his eyes. “There wasn’t much to say.”
He watched you for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “This is about Taehyun, isn’t it?” Your fingers curled tighter around your spoon.
“We kissed, ” you whispered, barely audible. “And then he said it was a mistake.”
Sunoo’s brows lifted, and then quickly drew together in concern. “What?”
“I thought it meant something,” you said, voice cracking. “But he shut me out. Said it didn’t mean anything. Like I was just… a moment to him. A mistake to be scrubbed out.”
Sunoo’s expression darkened. “What a bloody idiot.” You gave a weak laugh, one that didn’t reach your eyes. He reached across the table and covered your hand with his. “Look, I know you like to see the good in everyone, even in jerks who don’t deserve it, but maybe it’s time you started putting that heart of yours somewhere safer. Someone who’ll actually protect it.”
You nodded, lips pressed tight. “You’re right.” But the ache didn’t lift. Later that day, you filed into Potions class with the rest of the students, your bag slung over one shoulder. The scent of crushed herbs and simmering roots clung thick to the dungeon air. You walked with your head high, shoulders back, smile forced into place like armor. He was already seated when you walked in. Taehyun.
Sitting at his usual spot near the front, posture rigid, jaw tight. His fingers tapped soundlessly against his textbook. He didn’t look up when you entered. Didn’t so much as flinch. But you felt the chill in the room anyway, the weight of all that was unspoken crackling between you like a live wire. Still, you were you. Still sunshine, even with cracks in your light. You walked over, careful steps echoing softly, and perched on the edge of the desk beside his. “Hi, Taehyun,” you said, your voice light, as if your heart wasn’t twisting. “I was wondering if you finished the reading for today. The part about powdered asphodel, wasn’t that fascinating? I thought—”
“Can you just shut up for once?” His voice cut through the room like a blade. The entire class went still. You froze. “I’m trying to concentrate,” he said, still not looking at you. “And I don’t need your insipid, cheery commentary. Merlin knows it’s exhausting enough seeing you parade around like everyone’s personal ray of sunshine.”
A few people snorted with laughter. Someone whispered behind their hand. You felt every eye in the room swing toward you, your face, your smile, your frozen stance. And Taehyun finally looked up, and his expression was cold, clipped, composed. But your world cracked. You swallowed the lump in your throat, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. You looked around, saw the amusement on their faces, the mockery, the disbelief that anyone as soft as you could’ve tried to reach someone as sharp-edged as him. And then your gaze landed back on Taehyun.
“All I’ve done,” you said, voice trembling, “is try to be nice to you. To care for you. Even when you were cruel. Even when you didn’t deserve it.” He said nothing. Your voice dropped to a whisper. “But I’m done.”
You didn’t wait for his reaction. Didn’t want to see if there was even a flicker of regret in those storm-grey eyes. You turned on your heel, your shoes tapping hard against the stone, and fled the classroom. Again. But this time… you didn’t cry. This time, your chest burned with something else. This time, you were done being soft for someone who only knew how to bruise.
Taehyun sat frozen in the aftermath. The laughter had faded. The stares had drifted away. But the silence that followed your exit rang louder than anything else in the room. He stared at the empty space where you’d stood, chest hollow and knotted, something sour rising in his throat. The words he’d thrown at you echoed back in his ears; sharp, venom-laced things forged in fear, insecurity, and pride. And regret, thick and immediate, curled in his gut like poison. “Taehyun?” the professor called. But he didn’t answer. He stood up abruptly, chair scraping back, and bolted.
His shoes struck stone as he ran through the corridor, breath tight, wand forgotten. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to find you. That he had to. His heart beat painfully against his ribs. The hallways blurred past him, students turned their heads as he passed, but he didn’t stop. He found you in the greenhouses, your favorite place, tucked behind the castle where the air smelled of earth and mint, where your emotions could breathe. You stood alone beneath the arching glass dome, surrounded by sleeping winter blooms. The late afternoon light spilled through the frosted windows in ribbons of gold. You had your arms crossed, head bowed, lips pressed tightly together. When you heard the door open, you stiffened.
“What do you want?” you said, voice hoarse, but strong.
Taehyun’s breath hitched. “I’m sorry.”
You laughed, bitter and soft. “You’re always sorry.”
“I know.” He took a step closer. “I know I keep ruining things. I know I keep hurting you. But I don’t—” His voice broke. “I don’t mean to.”
“Then why do you?” you snapped, eyes glassy, anger trembling under your skin. “Why do you keep pushing me away? Every time I try to be kind, every time I try to care about you — you throw it back in my face.” Taehyun looked down at his hands, curling them into fists. “Because you make it hard to pretend I don’t feel anything.” You stared at him.
He looked up, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes were wide, vulnerable, raw. “You’re always happy. You shine so damn much it hurts. And I... I’ve spent my whole life trying to be perfect, trying to be what everyone expects. And then you walk in, and you’re better than me, and kinder, and I didn’t know what to do with that. So I lashed out. Because it was easier than admitting I—” He swallowed. “I like you.” Silence bloomed between you. Quiet. Fragile.
“You’re such a bloody idiot,” you muttered.
Taehyun blinked, startled. “What?” And then you stepped forward. Fast. Sure. Your hands came up to grab the collar of his robes, tugging him down before he could react. Your mouth crashed into his with a force that knocked the air out of both of you. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was furious, raw, earned. Taehyun made a soft, strangled noise in the back of his throat, his hands fluttering for a moment before settling; one on your waist, the other braced against the table behind you. But you didn’t wait for him. You deepened the kiss, teeth and warmth and heat and something frantic behind it all. You poured your anger and your longing into him, tasting the apology on his tongue, daring him to mean it.
When you finally pulled away, breathless, your eyes burned into his. “I’ve liked you for ages, you emotionally constipated genius,” you whispered, chest heaving. “But I’m not going to keep running after you if you’re going to keep running from yourself.” His mouth parted. He didn’t speak. He only nodded, once, reverent.
“I won’t break for you again, Taehyun,” you said, softer now. “So if you’re going to kiss me back next time… mean it.”
“I will,” he breathed, eyes wide, lips swollen, still stunned by the hurricane of you. “I swear.” And this time, when you kissed him again, it was slower. Sweeter. The first page of a new chapter written in ink instead of fire. And for once, he let himself feel it.
–
The announcement came quietly, a simple flick of parchment and a name spoken with no ceremony. At breakfast, the Great Hall was humming; spoons clinking against porridge bowls, owls flapping in with the morning post, low chatter weaving between house tables like mist. Professor McGonagall stood at the podium, spectacles glinting as she unrolled the scroll of student appointments. Her voice carried with its usual sharpness, precise and unyielding. “The Prefect position for next term,” she said, “has been awarded to Miss Eliza Rowe of Gryffindor.”
A polite smattering of applause followed. Nothing loud, nothing triumphant, just the rustle of hands clapping out of obligation more than celebration. Eliza, three seats down from the golden trio’s old haunt, blinked, then straightened her back and nodded once, the picture of composed satisfaction. She’d dotted her i’s with logic, crossed her t’s with ruthlessness, built her empire from timetables and perfectly executed essays. And she deserved it. You blinked, mid-sip of pumpkin juice. Across the table, Taehyun paused, one hand wrapped around a buttered scone. For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. And then, like a shared secret, you both burst into soft, startled laughter.
No bitterness curled on your tongues. No resentment twisted in your chests. There was no sting to the loss, only the warm realization that you hadn’t even noticed the stakes anymore. Taehyun leaned forward, elbows brushing the edge of his plate, eyes gleaming in the slanted morning light. “You know, I think this might be the first time I’ve lost anything and not wanted to hex someone about it.” You smirked. “Wow. Character development.”
He grinned, actually grinned, the corners of his mouth curling like sunlight creeping through storm clouds. “Don’t push it.” You looked down at your plate, then back up at him. “I mean, we both lost, technically. And yet…”
“And yet,” he echoed, voice low and warm, gaze lingering. His fingers brushed yours under the table, just a whisper of contact, but it said everything. You glanced around at the bustle of the Hall. No one was paying attention to you anymore. The spotlight had shifted elsewhere. You and Taehyun were no longer the top contenders, the academic titans vying for dominance. And you didn’t care.
The rivalry had sharpened you both, carved out the edges where you met, but now, here, in this quiet moment between spoonfuls of marmalade and melted butter, it felt like something new was blooming. Not softer, exactly. But truer. Less about pride. More about presence. “I think,” you said slowly, “I’d rather have this.”
He tilted his head. “This?”
You shrugged, fighting a smile. “Us. Whatever we are now.” For a moment, Taehyun didn’t answer. Just looked at you, like you were the only person in the castle worth watching. Like maybe, in some unspoken way, he’d already chosen this over everything else. Then he said, “Me too.”
Epilogue
The letter arrives on a Tuesday. It isn’t sent with an owl, or folded with formal corners. It’s slipped into your Potions textbook, tucked between a page on amortentia and the properties of powdered moonstone. You find it when your fingers brush against the soft, familiar parchment, sealed with nothing more than a pressed flower. A heliotrope. His favorite. And yours. Your name is scrawled across the front in his ever-meticulous handwriting, slanted and confident and just a touch dramatic. But inside; it’s him, wholly and undeniably.
Meet me at the Astronomy Tower. Tonight. Midnight. Don’t bring Sunoo, or I swear.
Stop asking questions you already know the answer to, Little Miss Perfect. It makes me want to kiss you. Which is inconvenient. Because I hate you.
—T.K.
You laugh, soft, delighted, head shaking in disbelief. The paper crinkles in your hand as your fingers clutch it tighter, your stomach blooming with something golden and giddy. You press the letter against your lips, a half-suppressed giggle escaping. He still says he hates you. You roll your eyes, slip the letter into your sleeve, and go anyway.
The Astronomy Tower is quiet when you arrive, the air tinged with cold and the faint, fragrant echo of spring pushing through winter’s shadow. Snow clings in delicate lace to the ramparts, the sky a deep indigo velvet scattered with stars. Hogwarts sleeps below, its windows glowing faintly, warm and distant. You find him leaning against the parapet, robes fluttering slightly in the breeze, curls tousled and dark against the moonlight. He doesn’t turn as you approach, but you know he hears you. He always does. “You’re late,” Taehyun murmurs, without looking.
“You’re impossible,” you reply, stepping beside him, shoulder brushing his.
He finally glances at you. “And yet, here you are.”
You smile. It’s soft, easy. “What’s the occasion?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just looks up, at the moon, at the stars, at anything but you. When he finally speaks, it’s quieter. “I used to come here to get away from people. To think. Sometimes just to breathe.” You say nothing. You let him unravel in his own time.
He exhales, long and slow. “Now all I think about is how badly I want you here. All the time. Even when you’re babbling. Even when you’re winning at things I swore I needed to beat you at.” You glance at him, heart beating like a drum beneath your ribs. He turns to face you fully now, the night making a poem of his profile, sharp lines, soft edges, eyes full of unspoken things.
“You ruined my solitude,” he whispers.
You tilt your head, teasing. “You’re welcome.”
His lips twitch. “I should hate you for it.”
“And yet?”
“And yet,” he says, stepping closer, “you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to be wrong with.” You reach for him first this time, fingers brushing his, pulling him into your gravity. He meets you halfway. The kiss is quiet. Slow. Like a confession. Like a wish. Above, the stars burn steady. Below, the castle dreams. And somewhere between the heavens and the earth, a boy who built walls and a girl who tore them down find something far sweeter than victory. Not perfection. But something better. Home
(♬) - @beomiracles @biteyoubiteme @hyukascampfire @dawngyu @izzyy-stuff @1-800-jewon @xylatox
20 DAYS BEFORE HEAVEN — l. hs
⋆*✩⑅◡̈⃝* — news reached your school that a boy in your class has passed away and the last thing expected was for the the reaper to show up inside your room and make a bargain with you. He gives you the chance to go back 20 days to save a boy you barely knew under one condition. the question is, would you do it despite the danger?
⋆*✩⑅◡̈⃝* genre(s) — highschool au, strangers to lovers, romance, angst, supernatural
⋆*✩⑅◡̈⃝* warning(s) — profanity, suicide, internalising disorders, bullying, sexual assault, victim blaming
⋆*✩⑅◡̈⃝* wc. : 15k+
— dont forget to reblog, like, and comment about what you thought abt the fic!! lastly, thank u so so much to our dearest best girl, sei who made this banner for me !! you will forever be remembered ♡ teaser
OCTOBER 15 ༉༊
Ever since you were a mere infant, you loved the rain. Being brought into the world in the rainy month of June, all your birthdays were greeted by a storm. When you were eight years old, you and your parents decided to go to the theme park for your birthday. However, your plans for outside fun were soon soiled when the rain started pouring the second you'd entered the premises.
Instead of being dejected, you were ecstatic. With a wide smile coated across your porcelain childlike face, you ran into the pouring rain with open arms, not giving a single fuck about your hair, clothes, or shoes getting wet nor soggy. In the background, you could hear your parents yelling at you to go back and take shelter, but you tuned them out, in love with the feeling of rain dropping against your skin.
The next day, you woke up with a boiling hot fever. Snot was dripping from your nose, reaching your lips. Being the curiosity filled child that you were, your tongue darted up to taste it, pleased to say that you weren't disgusted by the taste but never willing to admit doing the action in front of anyone. Along that was a pounding headache and a series of sneezes but you didn't regret your actions, not one bit.
Years have gone by and sure, people change. You can say that you have for sure. You've grown taller and quieter. Though, you're still you. The same girl who loved to become one with the rain.
It rarely rained on the city of Seoul but either way, whenever it would, you'd be overjoyed. They say that if the sunny day is excitement, then a cloudy day is a well-earned chance to rest your eyes and cleanse your soul. It's a chance to daydream and breathe in a calm, reflective mood. Those very words expressed how you viewed the much-hated weather.
But today, the sky seemed as if it was sobbing— an overcast day if you would. The clouds were darker, more terrifying compared to the bright and shining ones you would see every other day in the city whenever the year would soon end.
The rain pooled on the ground, creating muddy puddles as you walked towards your school building. A striking yellow umbrella in one hand, protecting you from the droplets of rain while the other hand grips your jacket tighter, trying to obtain more warmth.
Stepping inside the building, you shake your umbrella, trying to get rid of the water that clung to it. The water detaches itself from your umbrella, lightly sprinkling everywhere. After, you put it somewhere inside of your locker where you were sure none of your papers would get soaked.
For some odd reason, as you walk down the hallway towards your classroom, you can't help the heavy feeling that's weighing on your chest. You wonder, was there a possibility you missed something? Did you have homework that you forgot to bring? Was there supposed to be a quiz today and you didn't study? No, none of those could've been it. Being the honor student that you were meant you had to be ahead of every lecture, assignment, project, and anything that correlated to your academics and you did just that. You always carry with you a planner that holds all your schedules and work deadlines so that you could rest assured that you never missed anything.
Loud chatter fills your ears as you step inside your classroom. Some of your classmates sat atop of their desks while the others stood up as they huddled up with one another, gossiping, you assumed. You lay your belongings on top of your table, taking a seat beside the window so you could look out and watch as multiple students ran to enter the school gates, practically drenched by the rain with only their bags to shelter them from the pouring rain. A few more minutes pass and you finally hear the school bell ring, signaling that classes were starting.
Your classmates hurry to resume their places back into their own seats, not wanting to be caught out of place by your advisor and have an earful early in the rainy morning. The chattering and the noises stop when your homeroom advisor enters the room with a somber look. She takes her eyeglasses off with a sigh, resting her palms on either side of her desk upfront.
She's tense, you could easily tell. It makes you wonder what had happened for her to act like that as you fix your gaze onto her completely. You're used to your advisor's usually bright and bubbly expression whenever she comes skipping inside the room so for her to turn like this means that something awful must've happened for her aura to stray so far from her usually energetic personality.
"Alright, guys. Can I have your attention please?" Your adviser calls out. All eyes fixate themselves on her figure, giving her the attention she wants as they wait for her to continue. "I have some very sad news that I need to share with all of you. Your classmate, Lee Heeseung," She sighs out as if merely speaking the boy's name is hard for her. "He... He won't be with us anymore."
A moment passes in silence before one of your classmates stands to speak up. "Huh?" He wonders. "Did Heeseung transfer?" He asks, voicing out your own thoughts.
"No," She answers, shaking her head "l hope that was the case." She whispers.
This time, a boy with strikingly white hair and pale skin raises his hands before standing up. This time you were familiar with him. His name, based on your recollection, is Park Sunghoon. Like your other classmates, you've never interacted with the boy. Thus meaning that you knew little to nothing about him. The only thing you could remember about him was his face and that he belonged to the same popular friend group as the boy in question, Lee Heeseung. "Then where is he? He didn't even bother telling us where he went and hyung never does that." He says.
"H-He... Uhm," Your adviser stutters before tightly closing her eyes, gripping the edges of her table even tighter to the point where her knuckles turned white and her nails dug into the wood. You can tell she's holding her tears back as much as she can. As to why, you're still not sure and you stay seated there, waiting to find out.
With a deep exhale, she finally continues. "Lee Heeseung won't be joining us anymore. Last night, the police found his dead body inside his apartment and that they've suspected that... that," Her voice breaks when she continues, saying, "He had overdosed on sleeping pills the night prior."
Time seemed to have passed and yet, no one dared to move in their seat when those words left your advisor's mouth. Your classmates looked shocked, faces showing disbelief at the news she had just dumped on them.
"W-what?" You hear one of your classmates ask. You remember his name being Jake.
Sim Jaeyun. Member of the soccer club and Lee Heeseungs closest friend.
You had seen the two boys bond with each other all around campus. Lee Heeseung and Sim Jaeyun were in the same class as you as well as some of their other friends but you've observed that the two were the closest to each other despite the latter being a year younger. Although Lee Heeseung was older, they had managed to form an incredible friendship that you envied, so truly envied.
You're no outcast per se, you just detested the company of people and prefered to be alone, wanting to focus on getting out of this hell hole than creating connections. However, even loners yearn for some company from time to time. You've just never bothered to scout for the right people that matched well with your personality.
Resuming, the poor boy is frozen in his seat, looking as if he was about to break down. Your eyes are trained on the way he clenches his fist into a ball with overwhelming amounts of force. It wouldn't be a shock to you if you see his hand bleed due to his nails digging into it.
"I'm sorry, Jaeyun." She apologises, her expression sad as she looks at the boy. "I wish it was a lie too but it's true, he's dead."
"Th-That can't be! We were just talking about what we were going to do for his bi—" All of a sudden, he stops talking. His eyes turn wide as if something had just dawned on him and his hand comes to cover his mouth in shock. You can see the boy's whole body start to tremble and you knew he going to break down into tears any minute now. Sim Jaeyuns chair screeches back as he runs out the room and your teacher does nothing to stop him, understanding that he was Lee Heeseungs closest friend and that this whole news is even more haunting for him.
You watch as all your classmates bow their heads down, a heavy feeling looming around the room as everyone mourns Lee Heeseungs death. Some even start crying in their seats; one of them being Jay, otherwise known as Park Jongseong, another one of Lee Heeseungs friends.
"Heeseungs family will be having his funeral tomorrow and... I hope you all can come." Your teacher says. "We won't be having any lessons for the entirety of this day and you can all go home early. We just want to give you all some time to mourn such a bright student's unfortunate death. Class dismissed."
Now, you've found the reason why the air was so gloomy and why the rain didn't seem to stop no matter how long it's been pouring. It was because the sky was crying, mourning the death of Lee Heeseung.
"Y/N? God, I just heard the news."
As soon as you step inside your home, your mom is there to envelop you in a warm hug. She places your head on her shoulder as she caresses the back of your hair— something your mother has always done when consoling you.
"I wasn't even that close with the guy." You say, words coming out automated as you assumed she was talking about the suicide announcement that your advisor had made not even an hour ago. "How did you find out anyway?"
"Mrs. Lee told me." She says, frowning afterwards. "Don't tell me you didn't know the Lees are our neighbors?"
Your expression is a dead giveaway that this is new news to you. You're never one to dwell on your mother's business since you had no interest in gossiping nor did you have time to with all the studying you were doing. However, it does come out as a surprise to you that Lee Heeseung lived close to you and yet, the two of you never seemed to have bumped into each other.
"Gosh, YN. You really should stop and listen in sometimes. I know I'm your mother and I'm supposed to be happy that my child is a genius but I don't want you to waste your youth." Again, she's frowning at you.
What's so bad about wanting to focus on school? It's not like being stupid will make a difference.
"It's fine mom. I'm okay." You assure.
"Nonsense. I'll tell you what, I'll go into the kitchen and make you some soup. You can go and take that upstairs. You're looking too thin these days." Once again, her motherly nature surfaces.
"Sure, Mom. That'd be nice." She smiles at you, feeling satisfied with your answer and afterwards scurrying into the kitchen to bring you some food to eat.
You lay down on your bed, staring at the blank ceiling of your bedroom. The chicken noodle soup your mom had made for you sat cold and untouched on top of your desk, making no move to eat it.
Lee Heeseung isn't a close friend of yours nor was he an acquaintance. He was just simply a boy in your class that seemed to have his life put together. From what you knew, the boy had excellent grades, powerful friendships, and skills that exceeded everybody's expectations.
He was a boy with a smile that could rival the suns.
You remember catching sight of him while he was talking with one of his friends. The other must've said something extremely funny because that day, you were graced to see the way Lee Heeseungs eyes crinkled in happiness, his nose scrunching in glee, and his teeth on full display as he laughed; his head thrown back and his protruding adam's apple bobbing every time he gulped while doubling over with laughter.
"That's all I knew of him." You lie.
But why was his death affecting your mood this much? Maybe because he was such a nice and talented boy that you saw it as a great shame he had to go so early.
Eventually, your mind wandered around why he did what he did. Granted, you knew nothing about the boy's personal life but you could only imagine how hard it was for him to push himself into committing such a horrific act.
He took his life.
Was it because behind that bright and perfect smile was a boy bearing a shattered soul? What drove him to do something like this?
You're a quiet person and you usually stay in your own company. You don't like big crowds and you loved it whenever it rained because it made you feel at peace whenever you listened to the way it pitter-pattered, drenching everything and anything blocking its way, but today, you just wished it stopped.
The rain reminds you too much of Lee Heeseung, the boy who took his life and the rain is making you feel restless.
You hope wherever he is right now, that he's finally at peace with himself. You hope that he's happy and that he can rest. Again, you never bothered to get close with anyone, meaning you never knew Lee Heeseung personally but you wish, for once, that you could have done something, anything, to change his mind.
OCTOBER 16 ༉༊
As you open your eyes to greet a new daydream, you immediately frown. The skies are so dark and bitter that you don't even notice that it's now morning. There's no sign of the bright warm sun on top of a blue horizon nor are there any white fluffy clouds covering the sky.
A storm is brewing and it's evident it'll hit your area soon.
Tempestuous, bleak, and angry.
The heavens are angry.
It's the next day but you didn't get a wink of sleep. You supposed it was because of the never-ending thoughts that flowed inside your head.
It may have been two days since Lee Heeseung died, assuming that he killed himself at the strike of twelve on his birthday. You still can't wrap your head around it nor can you stop wondering why it's affecting you so much.
Still, you begrudgingly get up from your bed. You look around and everything is the same spot it used to be and nothing has changed. Your books are still in the same place on top of the shelves, your cabinet is still open like how you left it, heck, even the wall clock that's been there for five years is standing strong. So why is it that you feel so lost?
Fuck Lee Heeseung.
"Can you stop occupying every single space in my brain for at least five minutes?"
The boy is dead yet he's bothering you even more than when he was alive.
You groan once you hear your bitter thoughts. Immediately, you realize how cruel you were being and you mutter a silent apology to the boy in heaven before falling back onto your bed.
A soft knock on your door catches your attention as your mom's head peeks through the space. "Darling, Are you awake?"
You sigh. "Yeah. I'm up, Mom." You reply dryly, feeling the symptoms of a headache brewing inside your head.
"Great. Get ready, we're going to Heeseungs in a few minutes."
Lee Heeseungs funeral was a poor sight to witness.
Everybody at the funeral was either crying, yelling out for the dead boy to come back, or had a sad look on their face. Bouquets of pretty and colourful flowers decorated the place and you wished you got the time to bring one for him too. There's also a huge chandelier hung in the middle of the room and rows of chairs adorned the place. At the front is a huge picture of the boy, smiling brightly like how you've mentioned before; lively and perfect. If only the casket holding his dead body wasn't there, then you might have smiled too.
The room was packed with Lee Heeseungs friends, relatives, and classmates. You even spot some of your teachers in the room as they pay their respects and you're not at all shocked when you see the school principal there either.
Your school principal is a fake, to say the least. You've watched him work and you've seen the way his face falls and scrunches in disgust when a person's back is turned to him. When he doesn't get his way, he manipulates people like the bastard he is just so he can get what he wants. You scowl as you watch him look into Lee Heeseungs casket, fake tears rolling down his cheek, continuing his act to seem like he cared for his students. You choose to ignore his presence for the time being because this night isn't about him, it's about Lee Heeseung and you intend to keep it that way.
A couple dressed in white stood at the front, right beside Lee Heeseungs coffin, catching your attention.
Trailing behind your mother, you follow as she walks towards the said couple, greeting them with a sad smile, proving the hunch you had that these people were Lee Heeseungs family.
"Hello, you must be YN. " The woman says, smiling fondly at you as she reaches for your hands, holding them inside hers and although her hands were cold due to the air-conditioned room, you let her. "Heeseung told us so much about you."
At her statement, you're only able to reply with a confused smile. This confuses you because as you recall, you've never had any sort of interaction with Lee Heeseung that'll leave him wanting to tell his parents about you. You weren't close friends, nor were you ex-friends. So why does it seem like his mother already knows a lot about you?
"Mom!"
Suddenly, a boy who looked a few years older than you yelled from a few meters away, effectively catching your attention. He takes a quick jog towards you and scratches the back of his neck, awkwardly. "Hi, I'm Lee Heewon. Heeseungs older brother." He introduces, stretching his hand towards you.
"It's nice to meet you" You smile politely, grabbing his hand before releasing it. "I'm YN."
Lee Heeseungs older brother nodded, however, it seemed as if he already knew that.
He reaches to wrap his hand around his mother's waist, whispering something to her. She replies with a confused look, scrunching her brows together and eyes squinting in confusion, yet she replies with a nod either way. Lee Heeseungs brother pulls away, looking at you and then asking if you would follow him.
Although confused, you agree. "Mom I'll be right back, okay?" You tell your mother who is now sitting on one of the chairs, talking with Lee Heeseungs parents. She simply smiles at you and agrees, letting you off on your own with the boy before turning back to their conversation.
Looking back at the male, you nod as he gestures for you to follow him towards the corner of the room, where not that many people were around so the two of you could have a conversation in private.
"Hi, so uh. Listen." He starts, eyes unable to look at yours as they shift everywhere, feeling awkward. "Heeseung-ie... he told us a lot about you because— uh, y'know what, I— I don't think it's my place to tell you this."
"Huh?" You reply, stunned.
"Sorry, forget it." He dismisses. "It's just... he said he was going to do it." He finally heaves out.
By the way his hands started getting clammy and shaky, you could tell the boy was nervous to tell you something. "I'm sorry but I don't understand what you're trying to say."
He releases a hefty breath befor continuing, "Heeseung, he likes you, or at least he did." He whimpers at that, hands coming up to comb his unruly hair. "He would talk to us a lot about you and we always teased him about it because... he just couldn't confess to you." He finishes with a sad laugh. "B-but now, he's g-gone and..." His voice trails off and his face wears a sad smile as he remembers the moments he spent with his dear brother.
Upon hearing those words, you stood rooted to your spot, unable to form a coherent sentence to respond to him. Like you've said before, you and Lee Heeseung were never close so when you found out that he had that big of a crush on you, so big that he couldn't help but tell his family, you were speechless, to say the least. "He... likes me?"
The older male chuckles, incredulous. "You didn't know?"
You shake your head in response, "We weren't really close."
"Damn, if Heeseung-ie heard you say that right now, he probably would've cried himself to sleep. The guy basically only had eyes for you." He comments, shaking his head as he laughs at the possibility.
Lee Heeseung likes me.
A sudden memory from about twenty days ago flashes in your mind and you're reminded of the time when you found a cute letter that was slid inside your locker on one warm afternoon.
'Hi, Y/N! If you're free, can you please meet me on the rooftop after classes end?
- your secret admirer ♡'
The short yet adorable note made your heart flutter and your chest bubble up in excitement as you read it. No one had ever bothered to confess to you, much less become your secret admirer. With you being so focused on your studies, you never made it a task to make yourself look good to please yourself and even more for other people. Of course you never want anyone to see you at your worst but at the end of the day, you don't really care as long as you don't look at yourself in the mirror.
After reading the letter multiple times, you finally concluded that you'd spent enough time fangirling and so, you eagerly folded the note and put it in a safe place inside your locker afterwards.
You were a loner, had no friends, and were basically isolated from everyone. You did feel sad about the fact you couldn't go to someone and gush about the letter to them— with no friends or siblings to approach, to whom were you supposed to go? But as you stood there alone on top of the rooftop with the sweet letter at hand, you were glad you didn't have anyone as you were greeted by no one other than the faltering light of the sunset.
No sign of anyone and certainly no signs of your secret admirer.
So it was him.
Lee Heeseung, you fucking coward.
'Why did he not show up? Was he too embarrassed? What on earth did I even do to make him like me? Well, if he bailed on me just like that then he mustn't have liked me as much as his brother says he does.'
So many questions flew around your head that you didn't even notice that long gone was Lee Heewon, older brother of Lee Heeseung and instead, your mother stood in his place. The tapping on your shoulder is what brings you back to your consciousness, your eyes turning to look at your mother as she continues to look at you in wonder.
"Sorry, just spaced out." You apologise, blinking.
The evening goes on smoothly— as smooth as you'd expect a funeral to be. You saw his friends there; Sim Jaeyun, Park Jongseong, Park Sunghoon, and a few other juniors that you've seen around campus. Although you had so many questions in mind— so many questions to ask him, you brushed them off and prayed for his well-being up there with God instead, hoping that he was no longer suffering.
His father, along with many others, gave tribute to the boy in the form of a long and heartfelt speech. With suicide grief, they’re dealing with trauma on top of the loss. With most people who die by suicide, it’s usually violent or tragic in some way— like what happened to Lee Heeseung. So, the person grieving has to deal with the fact that a person chose to take their life and that is how they died. That changes the grief process entirely.
Death can be tragic, like a murder or a car vehicle accident. But the stigma around suicide still exists today, and so family members have to contend with that piece as well. It makes their grief different.
"... I'm sure to everyone here, you all know that Heeseung was a kind and caring son. He was also a hardworking and honest student. A fun and talented friend." He continues. Your eyes danced across the room and situated themselves on his friends that were sitting in front. All of them were crying, gripping each other closer as they hugged one another, afraid that if their grip loosened, one of them might leave the others behind— just like their fallen sibling has. "And I'm sure he was a wonderful stranger to many of you as well."
"We'll never accept his death, for our Heeseung was one of a kind. Our family will continue to carry the sadness of losing him as grief is not something we ever get over, and it doesn’t ever stop. What we'll learn to do is grow around our grief, to encompass it and incorporate it or manage it into our own life,” He says. “We walk with it.”
“Every time you turn around— there’s a reminder of him, there’s a statement, there’s a feeling, there’s an emotion— and we ask you to not look past it,” His father says. “As we walk with this grief of losing him, we also hope that you don't forget him. Even though he isn't here anymore— physically, our family hopes that you'll still carry your memories of him inside your heart. Where he'll be forever until we see him again."
It's already nine in the evening when you get home. Feeling exhausted, you step inside the darkness of your room with a sigh, carelessly tossing your bag onto your desk as you plop down on your bed, staring at the ceiling— something you've been doing so much as of recently.
"Lee Heeseung..." You say to no one in particular. "You're such a loser"
"Ouch," a voice suddenly says. Your eyes unnaturally widen in shock as you sit up from the position you previously laid in because as far as you knew, there's no one in your room besides you. Looking at the knob on your door, you see that it's locked, making it even more impossible for someone to come inside without you noticing. "That was a little harsh, dont you think?"
But finally, there, in the corner of your room, you watch as the figure of a boy suddenly appears out of thin air. He stood there with a smirk playing across his red lips. He has stunningly dark hair, a pointed nose, and cheeks that look lively and soft. You would assume he was just some normal boy who slipped into your bedroom but the intimidating dark aura that coats his figure, spreading throughout the space of your room says otherwise.
A sense of fear envelops you as you stand up, stance as if ready to fight. "Wh-who are you!?"
"Ah, that's a complicated question, y'know. I go by many names." He says. "Some call me the Grim Reaper, some call me Death but I prefer the name Sunoo the most so make sure to call me by that!"
What
the
actual
fuck
?!
Sunwoo— or whatever his name is, smiles deviously at you. His eyes crinkle in amusement as he watches you with your mouth agape, struggling to wrap your head around the fact that an otherworldly being might actually be in your room wearing a plaid shirt and Nike sweatpants.
"Th-this can't be happening. This is all just a dream." You say, smiling freakishly as you move to pinch your arm, hoping to wake up from whatever nightmare this is, but all you do is yelp at the pain you've caused yourself. Feeling the pain you inflicted, your eyes take frantic turns looking at your reddened arm and the magical being sighing defeatedly at you.
"Listen," He calls out for your attention. Hearing the authority in his voice makes you tense up, stopping all your actions in the process. Your ears are tingling for some unknown reason but you can only guess that it's because of the overwhelming amount of panic being struck in your veins. "I'm here because I need a favour from you—"
Before he could continue with what he was saying, you cut him off "No! No, you can not have my soul!" You scream out, hugging your body tightly around your shaking arms.
His eyes widen, index finger coming up to his lips to shush you "Stop. I'm not here for your soul—"
"Good because I'm not giving it to you anyways." You humph. You're still scared of the boy as his powers and true intentions are still unknown to you. However, hearing that he isn't here to take your soul just yet is already enough for you to relax and gain some sort of fake confidence.
"Will you stop cutting me off for a goddamn minute!" He shouts in a whispering manner. "I'm starting to regret coming to you for help."
Your eyes squint. "What did you just say?"
"Okay," He says before releasing a breath. "Do you want Lee Heeseung to come back?" He asks you slowly, watching your every move as if he expected you to scream out for your mother if he's not careful.
Thankfully— or not, you don't. All you do is stand there, unmoving. In a swift move, Sunoo pushed himself off the wall he was leaning up against and made a cautious step towards you.
"Do I want to... what?"
Sunoo sighs in relief, thanking his familiars that your body hasn't frozen due to shock and that he doesn't have to collect another young body again. "Do you want Lee Heeseung to live again?"
"H-How is that even possible to begin with?"
"I can make it happen. I can send you back twenty days from now to when he was still alive and you can change his future." He explains. "Only if you are willing to."
"Why me? Why not his friends? I'm sure they'd be willing to help. "
The Grim Reaper shrugs, "I simply don't believe they can change the outcome and besides, I wouldn't have chosen you if I didn't think you could do it." He explains, smiling softly at you.
You stay in place, taking a moment to catch up with your thoughts as well as the events that are currently taking place. The reaper, who took the form of an incredibly charming looking boy, is inside your room asking if you would be willing to go back exactly twenty days so you could—
Wait, what?
"Twenty days? Why twenty days? There must be some sort of reason."
"Because it took Lee Heeseung exactly twenty days to decide whether or not he was going to kill himself or not." Hearing that, you nod.
"And what will happen if I fail?" You ask, looking him in the eye. Afraid of what the answer might be, you caress your earlobe; a habit you had developed over the years when you would get nervous. "There must be some sort of consequence for tampering with time like this."
"I'm afraid there is, yes." The Reaper answers, head bowing in defeat. "Apollyon. If he finds out that I've messed with the cycle, he's going to try and do everything he can to stop you. He might hurt you or Heeseung I’m not sure. Although he can't kill you, there’s a possibility he might hurt you if you defy him." He exhales.
"But don't worry too much about it." He composes himself and continues, "I'll try and do everything I can to stop him. If you succeed, then Lee Heeseung will come back and he'll be alive."
This creature in front of you, this conversation, it all feels surreal. Naturally, your mind jumbles through all the possible horrendous outcomes of this bizarre situation. Someone could get fatally injured— not just you but the innocent could too. Is the life of someone you barely knew really worth all the pain you might cause someone else? Is it worth it to play this dangerous game of tag with Apollyon?
Lee Heeseung is someone you barely had no connections to. Besides the fact that you share a few classes together and have interacted even fewer, you knew nothing of the boy. The only feeling you have of him is a slight distaste but even that seems like a lie.
If only you didn't know that he was such a good person. If only you didn't know that he was a volunteer tutor at the daycare. If only you didn't see how many people loved and cried for him when they heard the news. If only you didn't know that he committed suicide on the same day as his birthday. If only you didn't see the way his bullies punched him.
Maybe, just maybe, if you didn't know any of these, you would've declined. But you couldn't.
Why is it that even despite hearing the danger you'll face, you're still yearning to agree?
If you had the chance to save someone's life, wouldn't you debate on saying yes as well?
There's a risk of you getting harmed but you throw that away because there's only one thing that occupies your head.
"Don't worry too much, once you've completed your task and I'm assured of Heeseungs future, I'll take you back to the present." His smile somewhat brought a tinge of comfort in you, finding a small bit of relief at the small gesture which only further jumbled your mind.
"I... fuck— Okay."
Lee Heeseung can come out of this whole mess alive. It's damn worth a try, isn't it? There's a possibility that everyone will be able to see that endearing smile again. You can save him from his unfortunate future. And lastly, you can give his grieving family their son back.
So, with feigned bravery, you nodded before breathing out heavily, eyes locking with Sunoo's. "Let's do it."
Upon hearing your agreement, he expresses his happiness with your decision with an excited giggle. You're left once again to debate whether he was actually supposed to be what people called 'Death' as he claps his hands, finding him inconveniently cute. "Yes!" He cheers. "Tomorrow, when you wake up, it will be September twenty-five— exactly twenty days from now. Everything that happened before will be the same, except for the things you will change, of course. Remember YN, you only have one shot at this. I'll be with you along the way so don't hesitate to call me if you feel like you're being watched or just simply need help. I'm rooting for you."
Change Lee Heeseungs fate. Sounds easy enough.
The Reaper— I mean, Sunoo grabs your shoulders and you still as he pushes you gently so you could sit on the edge of your bed. You give him a weird look but say nothing in return, getting the signal that he probably wanted you to go to sleep now.
"Good luck, Y/N." You hear him whisper before your eyes close, suddenly feeling incredibly heavy as you fall into an effortless slumber. Being an insomniac meant that you didn't spend a lot of time sleeping at night. But as the moon shone, joined by the soft sound brought by the pitter-patter of the rain, you fell into one of the most comfortable slumbers you've had in a long long time.
"Y/N! Darling you're going to be late for school!"
The piercing sound of your mother's voice mixed with the relentless knocking on your door makes you jolt awake. Indeed, as you turn to look at the huge clock in your room, you're late.
You bolt up, making a beeline towards your dresser, grabbing your uniform and hurriedly putting it on, not caring to bathe or comb your unruly hair. However, when you catch sight of your calendar, you stop, limbs frozen in place as your eyes focus on the piece of paper.
September 25...
'Fuck, so that wasn't some weird dream after all.' You physically slap yourself for forgetting such crucial information, your forehead stinging because of your actions— though, you don't have the time to look if a red mark shaped like your hand is imprinted on it or not, before shrugging it off and focusing on continuing to put your clothes on. If you don't get to school today then you'll miss an important chance to find out something about the boy— and no one wants that.
After saying goodbye to your mother, you step outside, the rays of sunlight hitting you. The warmth of it makes you feel cozy in contrast to the feeling of the heavy rain you've been experiencing since a day ago— or should you say in the future? You have no idea.
"This time travel shit is messing with my head."
"Just stop thinking about it and it'll be easier." A voice says, popping out of nowhere, making you jump.
"Will you stop doing that!?" You scream out, feeling lucky that no one is in the vicinity to witness your outburst. "Seriously, you're going to give me a heart attack before I even get to Lee Heeseung."
"By the way, why do you call Heeseung 'Lee Heeseung'?" Sunoo asks. "Sounds a bit too formal for a classmate don't you think?"
"That's because we aren't close." You reply monotonously as you fish for your planner inside your bag, sighing gratefully once you've found it.
All you get is a hum from the boy before he disappears and you let out a satisfied hum of your own, happy that he's left you alone to do your own bidding.
As you step inside the establishment of your school, you go straight to the destination of your locker. After entering the right combination, it prompts open with a click and there, you see it. Your heart flutters the same way once again as you see the familiar note but this time, it makes you smile sadly, knowing what'll happen to the sweet boy who gave it to you— not to mention how he stood you up that evening either, or this evening? You still have no idea why your secret admirer, who you now knew was actually Lee Heeseung, ditched you when he was supposed to confess but you're sure as hell that you're going to find out why.
Instead of putting the letter back in your locker as you did before, you grasp it in your hands, making the sudden call to look for the boy who gave it to you, wanting to see that he was alive and well.
However, as your eyes scan over the halls, you find no traces of Lee Heeseung. A sudden feeling of nervousness consumes your chest as you look around for him but fail to spot a single trace of him or his friends. Before you get a chance to search the school grounds for him, however, the school bell rings, signaling that classes are going to start soon. Begrudgingly, you make your way inside the classroom you've been in several times before.
The looming feeling of nervousness drops, your breathing fastening when you finally catch sight of him.
Lee Heeseung is there, sitting on top of his desk, his nose wrinkling the same way his eyes are. His smile is bright and it showed his perfect teeth as he laughed at whatever conversation he and his friends were having.
You don't care about the conversation, you care about him being there, looking so real that you almost ask yourself if you were dreaming until you remember what you're here for and why you've gone twenty days back into the past.
After finding out from his family that he likes you, all of the longing gazes and the shy smiles he sends you whenever the both of you make the smallest and shortest eye contact are now so crucially visible to you it hurts that you were so dense before not to notice.
As you make your way towards your usual seat beside the window, you almost miss the way his eyes trained on you and the letter you held inside your hands.
Lee Heeseung, why is my heart hurting?
From the corner of your eye, you can see the way he bites his lip nervously as you open the letter he sent you.
Like before, nothing has changed in the letter; it's the same words, the same question, the same handwriting, and the same stupid little heart that he put at the end of the note. You smile adoringly at the letter, folding it neatly before tucking it inside your bag as if it's a treasure.
From across the room, Heeseung suppresses his grin when he catches you reading the letter he slid inside your locker. His heart bubbles up in happiness to see that you didn't gag at the sight of it, knowing that you weren't the romantic type and basically never showed any kind of interest towards male suitors. Even though you barely ever throw a glance his way, his heart seemed to have a mind of its own when it fell for you. He admired your effortless beauty and the way you were so driven to always come out on top.
The first time he saw you was years ago when you had just moved into his neighborhood. He remembers looking out of the window, annoyed at all of the noise the truck hauling your furniture was making. His scowl immediately left his face however when he caught sight of you trying to pick up a box that looked like it was twice your weight. From his window, he watched as your small, flimsy body struggled to carry just one box inside.
He could have offered some help but the thought flew way past little Heeseungs mind as he was too shy to approach you at that time. Years have passed and it seems as if nothing has changed over the years. Sure he's grown taller, and gained more confidence— he could even say he was more attractive than most. But whenever it came to you, all his ego seemed to fly out the window and he would go back to the same shy boy he used to be.
However, nearing the age of nineteen he's grown tired of it all. That's why he slid that letter inside your locker, opting to make a big change. Its purpose is to finally express to you his undying feeling of admiration. And he's determined to pull through with it.
After minutes of hearing the same lecture, the school bell eventually rings, signaling that classes are finished and that you can all go and take your breaks. Yes, this meant lunch for your growling stomach. However, this is also the time Lee Heeseung is supposed to confess to you on the rooftop but will eventually fail to do so and you ought to find out why he stood you up. So, you hurriedly gather all your things, trying to catch up to the boy so you could follow closely behind him.
Making sure none of your stuff got left behind, you dash towards the door, eager to follow the said boy when a sudden voice calls out to you. "YN, Can I talk to you for a second?"
Fuck. You forgot today is the same day your teacher asks you to stay behind in class. It's so he could talk to you about the details regarding the literary contest in Busan that the school is going to compete in in three days. As the top student in your year, you're good at many things that involve using your wit, intelligence, and logic— physical labor isn't your strongest asset, thus, you're always the top option whenever it comes to district competitions.
The conversation doesn't go the same as before— the result of your intention to leave immediately. However, it doesn't end as quickly as you'd like it to. Your English teacher is known to be a chatterbox throughout the students of your year as he's known to beat around the bush, prolong the conversation, and dwell on non-school related topics— all of which you don't appreciate at the moment, but either way, much to your distaste, the conversation goes longer than you want it too.
If this continues, you might not be able to catch Lee Heeseung at all and he'd think that you stood him up.
"Right. Great. I understand. I'll make sure to send you an email if I have any questions just like you said. Bye!" You say all in one breath, giving the man a thumbs up before sprinting out of the room, giving him no space or time to open his goddamn mouth which smelled like outdated anchovies by the way.
Frantically, you search every hallway in your building, desperate to find Lee Heeseung before it's too late. As you near the corner leading towards an exit, you hear a loud slam— as if something or someone was thrown against the lockers, followed by a thump as it hits the ground.
Peaking at the edge of the corner, careful not to be seen, you see three boys huddled around one guy who looked vulnerable amongst the others and you immediately recognise who these people are. To any outsider, they would assume that these people are your typical high school bullies who liked to pick on people for fun but no.
These people, they're dangerous.
Associating oneself with these people automatically gives you a free pass into doing whatever wrong you can imagine. With their leader being the son of the biggest investor of your school, Choi Yeonjun, meant that every teacher, staff, and even the guidance counselor you're encouraged to approach for help will turn a blind eye to their actions as they tell you to forget the events ever happened. Beside him is Choi Beomgyu, a boy with undeniable anger issues. One trigger, one wrong action or move will have you six feet underground with him waving you off.
"Yah, Heeseung." One of them squatted down beside the said boy, who stayed seated on the filthy ground. You could only assume that the third guy who's squatted down beside him is Kang Taehyun as with him, their trio would finally be complete. Your eyes go wide as the realization hits you that the boy being picked on is actually Lee Heeseung, the boy you've been searching for for the past five or so minutes.
'So this is why he couldn't meet me at the rooftop before.'
When Lee Heeseung doesn't give any sort of reply, they scoff in annoyance, throwing a harsh kick on his stomach. Although you weren't the one hit, you wince in pain as you could only imagine the torture Lee Heeseung is going through.
"Come on, Heeseung-ssi. Just do as we say and we'll stop bothering you." Kang Taehyun says, grabbing a fist full of Heeseungs hair in his hands and forcing the boy to look up. "It's that simple."
Now, you can see the boy's face clearly— all thanks to the asshole that was pulling his hair away from his face. Lee Heeseungs lip is bruised up and there's a stray line of blood dripping down towards his chin. There's also blood gushing out from the damaged skin of his cheekbone, undoubtedly punched. By who? You have no idea but you could only guess it's from one of them.
"Fuck you." He spats out to the boy who's gripping his hair, blood mixing in with his saliva. From his position standing up, Yeonjun only scoffs in utter disbelief, poking his tongue on the side of his cheek to show his impatience.
Kang Taehyun wipes his face slowly using his hands. You can tell he's annoyed however he doesn't show it. Only showing how his temper has been running thin, and now, even thinner because of the blood mixed with saliva running down from his eye all the way to his cheek. "You son of a bitch!" He screams out before throwing a nasty punch at Lee Heeseungs already damaged cheekbone, worsening the wound. "Why're you defending that whore anyways, huh? I thought you liked that quiet kid in your class. Did she get too boring or did she finally find out how much of a stalker you are?"
Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath trying to calm yourself down but it seemed that doing so only made it worse as now, you're focused on their voices, their words, and at the way, every kick, punch, and slap is directed towards Lee Heeseung.
The three of them let out an annoyingly loud laugh and it makes your skin crawl. Tearing your eyes away from the scene, you lean against the wall, unsure of what to do. You're sure you want to help Heeseung but the question is how?
You're itching to do something, anything just to make all of it stop because you can't bear hearing his grunts every time they throw a punch his way or his small screams of pain as they kick his stomach. Lastly, you can't bear hearing their insults, the names they call him. Lee Heeseung doesn't deserve any of it but what can you do? There's only a handful of options you can think of that may benefit the both of you in the outcome. You can't just go out there to fight them. You're no boxer and you're certainly no athlete. One punch from them can easily knock you out, rendering you useless. The option of going out there and threatening them with a weapon isn't good either. It's three against two and you dont think Lee Heeseung can even stand up and fight so really, it's just you against three well-built bullies.
Running out of time and favourable solutions, you choose to run. With all the strength you could muster, you dash away from the scene, running out of the building, praying to God that you find someone, anyone who you know is willing to help you fight against them.
His friends are your first option so you scurry around trying to find at least one of them when finally, sitting there at the bottom of the stairs leading towards the rooftop, you see Sim Jaeyun with his head propped up on one hand that rested on top of his knees and the other on he's using to scroll through his phone, seeming as if he's impatiently waiting for someone.
"Sim Jaeyun!" You're out of breath but you don't stop for air as the only thing in your jumbled mind that stays coherent is your drive to relieve the boy in need from his pain. "It's Lee Heeseung! He's… They're beating him up and I—I don't know what to do. Please help him." You ask, voice desperate and pleading.
Sim Jaeyuns eyes turn wide, immediately jolting up from his seat as he gestures for you to lead the way. The boy doesn't ask questions like "What happened?", "What's wrong?", "Is he badly hurt?" as his mind is too occupied with the thought of his brother being in trouble. The boy follows you as the both of you sprint back towards the same corner you had initially found Lee Heeseung and finds that the four of them are still there.
At the sound of your heavy running footsteps, the three of them turn their heads towards the both of you, followed by Lee Heeseung whose head felt heavy due to the endless beating he's received and the amount of blood he's lost. As the man beside you takes the scene of his friend looking battered and beaten, rage fills his veins as he lunges towards the three of them, not giving a damn even if he's outnumbered. You had guessed that Sim Jaeyun is stronger than he looked with the way three of them are struggling to contain the outraged boy.
While they're preoccupied with each other, you use this as a chance to come to Lee Heeseungs aid. Running up beside him, you crouch down to his level, cautiously pushing his bangs away from his face so you could inspect his injuries. His wounds have gotten worse, bigger and bloodier. His lip is completely busted, swollen and full of cuts— even worse than when you left. His cheeks are purple and swollen and you're angered to have found a new injury directed towards his left eye. Looking at him now, you can't help but feel like shit for leaving him alone to suffer at the hands of Choi Yeonjun and his friends, feeling useless that you couldn't have taken them all at once— like his friend is doing.
"H-Heeseung?" You ask him in a whisper, cupping his swollen cheek in your hands so you could turn his head to look at you and so that he could feel you there. He winces in pain and you immediately retract your hand, afraid to hurt him even further. "I-It's me, YN." You smile nervously, shy to have been so close to him. "You're okay now. I got your friend? Sim Jaeyun, right? He's here."
Upon hearing that, he smiles dreamily, as if out of it before sighing comfortably, closing his eyes and passing out after due to exhaustion. "H-Heeseung?" You call out, stuttering as you tap his cheek. When he doesn't answer, you panic, quickly turning to Sim Jaeyun who just threw a punch at Choi Beomgyus face, knocking him to the ground. "J-Jaeyun! H-Heeseung isn't… He passed out, Jaeyun. I don't know what to do." You whimper, feeling helpless.
Endless punches, kicks, and shouts were exchanged by the four of them with Sim Jaeyun miraculously coming out on top.
"You fucking bastards!" He screams, swinging his fist at Choi Yeonjuns face. Afterwards, he grabs the boy's collar, pushing his face closer as he threatens their leader. "I thought I already told you to stay away from him?!"
"Aw come one, Jake. You act like you're so different from us." One of them manages to cough out.
The boy is fuming as he takes in the unconscious figure of his dear friend lying on the ground and your distressed figure beside him, trying to make Lee Heeseungs unconscious body as comfortable as you can. There's a line of sweat coating his forehead but that's the least of his worries. Kang Taehyun is down on the ground, writhing in pain while clutching his stomach. Choi Beomgyu is leant against the wall as he spits out the blood that pooled inside his mouth, body swaying in dizziness. The only one left standing is Choi Yeonjun but you doubt he'd last long as you're proven right as he's immediately knocked down to the ground by the other.
"I swear, if you touch Heeseung hyung again, you three are really going to pay." He seethes out as neither of them reply, too tired and beat up to do so. Afterwards, he takes quick steps towards the two of you, immediately hooking Lee Heeseungs arm around his shoulders as you help him, the three of you exiting and going towards the nurse's office.
You're flabbergasted, to say the least. This is the first time you’ve ever witnessed a fight happen first-hand and you have a feeling this won't be the last if you keep associating yourself with his friend group. This side of Sim Jaeyun is unknown to you— as any side of him is. Having only known the boy as a mere bystander through the year, you had expected the boy to be an adorable puppy— much like his face. A happy-go-lucky friend that's cheerful and always ready to bring a smile to your face, not a punch. Perhaps you've judged too quickly as not everyone is the same as their cover shows. However, what makes your mind confused the most is how there's not a single ounce of fear in your body as you stand beside the boy.
The way his body moved so naturally in that setting made you wonder whether he's done this before, fighting. It seemed as if they had a history together, based on the words Sim Jaeyun let out in anger as he defended the older.
Speaking of the boy, you wonder what the reason for Choi Yeonjun and his crew targeting Lee Heeseung is— as you know they don't just mess around with random people. This eventually takes you back to the conversation they had prior to when you called Sim Jaeyun over for help. Lee Heeseung did something they didn't like, that's for sure. What is it? You have no idea but you ought to find out.
This might be the reason Lee Heeseung chose to take his life. The beating, the constant haunting done by the trio. Whether your hunch is fact or not, you'd do whatever it takes to find out, because after all, saving him is the reason you agreed to be sent back despite the danger, right? You only have one chance, so there's no room for failure. Soon enough, the creature named Apollyon is going to find out and you know for a fact that when he does, you're going to get hurt— much like how Lee Heeseung is right now. Standing beside Lee Heeseungs unconscious body which lay peacefully across the hospital bed placed inside the nurse's office, you can't help but feel a sense of responsibility to look after the boy when the creature does come and try to hurt the both of you. You wonder, is there a possibility that he's already found out? Within a day? Was this his doing?
Your mind buzzes as questions flow endlessly and you make a point to ask the Grim Reaper or rather, Sunoo, about this later, hoping that he can spare some details about what's going to happen.
You almost forget the fact that Sim Jaeyun is standing there beside you until he speaks. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that, YN." The said puppy-dog-faced boy apologizes, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.
"O-Oh it's fine, really. I understand." You try to assure him but your tone seems to have betrayed you. "I'm just glad Lee Heeseung's going to be fine."
"Yeah," Sim Jaeyun agrees, rocking his feet back and forth as he nods. "The nurse says all he needs is some ice and rest and then he'll be good to go."
You nod in understanding, happy that the damage dealt was minimal. There's a moment of silence that passes between the both of you as the other is unsure of what to say next.
"Say, YN. I-I actually have a favor to ask you." He says smiling sheepishly, digging his hands inside the front pockets of his pants. You let out a hum, prodding him to continue as your eyes stay glued to the way Lee Heeseungs chest heaved every time he breathed. "If… um… Can you keep what happened earlier a secret?"
You tilt your head to the side as you tear your eyes away from Lee Heeseung to look at him. "Don't you think Choi Yeonjun and the others will tell someone before I even peep a word in?" You reason.
"They won't tell anybody about it, I'm sure." He assures you before sighing deeply, looking back and forth between you and his palms— as if he's debating on whether to tell you something. Noticing this, you give him an encouraging smile, motivating him to continue. This seemed to have worked as he finally found the courage to open up to you. "I've known those guys a while back. I— I'm not proud of my past with them. Those guys have big egos. They aren't going to admit to anyone they lost a fight with three against one."
Laughing at how convenient this all is, you ask "You used to be friends with them?"
"Yeah, I— um… used to." He answers. "We used to get into all sorts of trouble. Luckily, Heeseung hyung pulled me out and I left that life behind."
Nodding, you take the information in, failing to find the right words to reply with. Clearly, you aren't as observant as you thought you were as you had barely even noticed how Sim Jaeyun used to be in the same group as them. "It's a good thing he knocked some sense into you then." You conclude.
"He was great, really. He saw the good in me even when I didn't— when no one did, and I'm forever going to be thankful for that."
"You're a good guy, Sim Jaeyun. I'm glad Lee Heeseung has a friend like you by his side. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone about what happened today, I promise." You smile at him and he smiles at you back.
After a while, he tells you that he'll be right back, informing you that he's going to go and tell the others what happened. Understanding the worry the others might have been feeling at the absence of two of their oldest, you nod, allowing him to leave you as you stay beside Lee Heeseung so you could provide him with some company when he wakes up.
"Oh, and YN— fuck. Wait, sorry. Is it okay if I call you that?" He asks and you nod, appreciating how he's asked you for your consent at the smallest thing like calling your name. He gives his own nod back, biting his lips to conceal his grin. "Great! And call me Jake, yeah? And I'm sure Heeseung hyung will appreciate it if you just called him Heeseung instead."
A few hours passed and it's already three in the afternoon. Classes are almost done and you're happy to walk into the nurse's office hearing Lee Heeseungs voice talking and laughing, his body is now well and awake. The six of them came in about thirty minutes ago and you left for a moment to provide them some privacy.
Upon your entry, his gaze locks with yours and all chattering and banter seem to stop as all heads turn to look your way. Now, all their attention is directed towards you as their expressions vary between shocked and speechless to mischievous and teasing— the latter being directed mostly towards the boy who laid in bed. It's not only theirs but his too. Lee Heeseungs eyes, you mean. You fidget with your hands from where you stood as heat pools across your cheeks, offering him a small, shy smile.
"Hi." Whispering, you wave a hand curtly towards his way. "You okay… Heeseung?" You ask, your voice faltering towards the end when you had said his name as you threw a glance at Sim Jaeyun, who you now refer to as Jake. He gives you a satisfied grin and a thumbs up, appreciating that you had accepted his previous request.
Calling him just by the name 'Heeseung' is still new to you and it sends your tongue into a frenzy every time you say his name as a rebellious surge of heat makes its way all throughout your body. Still, you love the feeling it gives you when it rolls out.
Heeseungs bambi-like eyes seem to widen, heat making its way to his bruised up cheek, seemingly forgetting your question as cheers and screams erupt around the room. Clearly, the younger ones like to tease their oldest. You're sure of this because of the way Park Sunghoon pokes Heeseungs shoulder, snickering at the older. Heeseung throws the boy a playful glare whilst telling him in a whispering manner to shut up. This doesn't seem to be the remedy for his problems however as now, everyone seems to be doing the same all at once; poking, teasing, snickering, and smirking.
You can't hide your own giggle as what you had expected to be an awkward check up on the boy had turned into pure chaos as you use the back of your hand to hide the grin on your face.
"Alright guys, that's enough." Park Jongseong is the one that finally shuts the others up, Heeseung throwing a thankful glance at the boy. "We'll leave you guys alone for a bit. I think Heeseung hyung has something to say to YN?" He inquires, casting a knowing glance towards the oldest who's now blushing an even deeper red than before.
The rest erupt into cheers, patting his shoulder as they make their way outside the door. Before they go out of sight, they give you a small wave, seemingly shy now that they're in front of someone they don't know as they sport a few small teasing grins. You bid them your own farewell, shaking your head at their nonsense, leaving Heeseung and you alone inside the nurses office.
"Um…" He starts, chewing the bottom of his lip, a nervous habit, you assume he has. "Hi, YN."
You tilt your head, smiling at him, happy that he's okay and finding the situation silly as you could only guess what's about to happen next.
He's going to confess, like he initially planned.
"Hi, Heeseung." You reply, simply. "How're you feeling?" You ask.
His eyes widen, seeming to have forgotten his current state as he realizes and takes a look at the multiple bandages covering his healing wounds. "O-Oh! These? These are nothing. I'm okay!" He assures you quickly, shaking his arms in front of him as if to show you he was well. "Nothing I can't handle."
"Don't tell me you're used to getting beaten up, Lee Heeseung. I never took you as a scuffler." You say in a teasing manner.
For the umpteenth time since seeing him in a conscious state, he widens his eyes cutely and he's quick to deny your playful accusation. "N-No! That's not what I meant! I don't get into fights, I swear!" He says, shaking his head cutely and it makes his hair sway. "I'm a good guy. You can ask Jake!"
You shake your head, finding his reactions funny. "I know, Heeseung. I'm just messing with you."
Taking a look inside Heeseungs mind, it's filled with thoughts of you; how you're talking to him right now, how he's managed to say coherent words to you, how pretty you look, how you're looking at him, how he's in the same room as you are. He's in chaos right now, trying to calm his fastening heartbeat.
He's always found you so beautiful, his adoration only growing as he grew taller. In his mind, he thinks that you probably don't pay attention to him much but still, you have all of his. He's seen the way you act around your parents, so caring and gentle. How you're so unbelievably smart, winning all the competitions and gaining the highest marks. How passionate and driven you are when you set your mind on something. Those were only some of the things he loved about you.
Out of the blue, he takes a deep sigh. "Y-YN…" He calls out and you reply by humming as you tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. "I actually have something to tell you."
His face has only grown hotter by the second, trying to gather the confidence to finally tell you what he's been dying to confess for years. In a way, you feel as if you're cheating, already knowing what he's about to do and thus, lacking the suspense you're supposed to feel. But you can only feel a tinge of guilt as you take a look at his expression, so adorable and deer-like while you wait for him to confess.
Still, you feel giddy regardless of knowing. "Yeah? What is it?"
"I— I've actually liked you… for a while now." He says, shyly, looking at your expression. "This might actually seem kinda weird— is it? Umm, I-I don't know. Sorry, this is so awkward. I'm awkward! Not you!" He rambles on.
"This is definitely not how I wanted this to go." He mutters the last part mostly to himself but still, you hear it. Giggling at his antics, you shake your head, using the back of your hand to cover the shit-eating grin that's on your mouth, not wanting to make him feel embarrassed any further as you tell him to go on. Breathing out, he clears his throat before speaking, " I-I like you, YN."
Although you already knew that, your heart still seems to be flustered, beating faster than you had expected. As you take in his confession, a surge of heat dances across your whole face, much to your protests. Truthfully, you're not sure what to reply and you have no idea where this side of you that's all shy and playful came from. Does he bring out a side of you that even you were unaware of having? Maybe. Talking to him seems so comforting, so calming that it seems to just come out naturally when you're around him— albeit, this is the first time it's happened.
Did you have any interest in Lee Heeseung before knowing what happened?
'No, no, I definitely didn't.'
Way to make it more obvious, smartass.
Okay, so maybe you did have some interest in him way back then. It was a simple crush really. He's your classmate. You found him nice to look at. You also found out that he's an incredibly nice person. Thus, just for the sake of having someone to crush on, purely for inspiration purposes, you chose him, reasoning that he's the best candidate and suited your 'ideal man'; tall, big and pretty eyes, tall nose, pouty lips, huge ears, prominent Adam's apple. You inwardly sigh whilst rolling your eyes, realizing that you've been describing how Lee Heeseung looks and him being your 'ideal man.'
Being the introvert you are, you never bothered to make a move and confess to him about it, nor did you assume that he was the secret man who left a love letter to you so he could confess.
Would you have still saved him if you were oblivious to the fact that he loved you? Yes, definitely. There were no questions asked about that. But now he's here. Sure, you admit this isn't how you expected him to confess to you; him laying on a hospital bed, all bruised up after you had just helped save him from a fight, but it's real and true and that's all you desire in a man.
"R-Remember the love letter that you got this morning? That was actually me. I'm sorry I didn't get to confess to you on the rooftop like I said I would. And I'm sorry I'm confessing to you like this." He says, apologising although it's not his fault. "But I'll take my chances and ask anyway. YN, would you… err… mind dating me?"
And now, the answer seems so simple, so clear. You like him and he likes you. What idiot are you to pass up a chance to fall in love with someone like him? Taking this mission on, you didn't expect to come out of it with a potential boyfriend. That is, if you succeed in saving him.
You're still not too confident, thinking that you aren't the best person for this as changing someone's mind about committing suicide when they're so set on doing so is harder than you it let's on to be. However, The Grim Reaper's words resonate in you, reminding you that you're the only person that can do this, and so, you'd like to think that being close to him like this will help and also because maybe acting upon your feelings doesn't seem so bad. Even if there's a chance he might leave you heartbroken in the end.
So, yes. "Yes, I'll gladly date you Heeseung. I'd be really happy to."
And now, you're really in it. You're going to save Lee Heeseung.
SEPTEMBER 26 ༉༊
After Heeseung had confessed to you in the nurse's office and being the head-over-heels man that he is, Heeseung immediately sprang up the idea of the two of you going on a date this Saturday— which is tomorrow. Grinning, you happily agreed, completely forgetting the literary contest you had to prepare for. However, as of the moment, that's the least of your worries because if things go according to how it happened before, you'll win the contest in Busan and go back home with a medal and certificate in your hands.
Leaving with each other's phone number, you bid the other goodbye, wearing the same identical grin on your faces. Leaving the room, you left with the promise of meeting each other again tomorrow lingering in the air while the last school bell rings.
That confession would've never happened if you weren't given the task to be sent back in time to save him. Although it's irrelevant, now, you hold no grudges towards your secret admirer because the reason he couldn't meet you wasn't because he stood you up, but because he was actually getting beaten up. If you didn't opt to search for the boy, the fight would've lasted longer, leaving him with an even more horrible outcome.
Currently, you're sprawled across your bed with nothing to do but think and reminisce about the events that happened and that're going to happen. You opt to think of a course of action ahead of time, trying to remember all the events that are going to take place in the next twenty days so you could maneuver around it.
Tomorrow, instead of going on a date with your highschool crush, you stayed in your room to practice for the literary contest and the same will happen tomorrow.
On Monday, you and a few other willing students who want to show their support for the school will go to Busan. This leaves you wondering if Heeseung was there because when school work is involved, you don't pay attention to anybody else but the work at hand. So it's hardly unlikely for you to remember or to even notice his presence. But in the end, like you've said, you'll win and come home happy as the rain will start pouring on your way back home. The next day, you were absent as you had played in the rain the night prior, rendering you sick and unable to go to class.
Amidst your thinking, a gust of wind suddenly made your windows fly open, curtains swaying wildly. Your heart rate slightly picks up, suddenly feeling nervous as chills run along your arms, giving you goosebumps. You sit up and kneel on top of your bed, peeking out the opened window only to see a cat walking along the roof of your neighbours house. This makes you calm down, sighing in relief as you close the windows shut. Suddenly, you hear a whip of air followed by a thud coming from behind you. The sound makes you turn quickly, eyes widening in shock to see Sunoo there, looking out of breath.
"Sunoo! For the last time, will you stop scaring me like that!?" You scream as you rush to stand up, stopping once you're in front of him as you hold a hand above your beating heart.
But all he gives you is a guilty smile. "Sorry, YN. It's fun seeing your reaction every time I scare you."
Rolling your eyes, you huff at the boy, crossing your arms at your chest. "It's not funny, you ass." Your eyes narrow, leaning your face close to his. "Where have you been anyways? I've been waiting for hours."
"Nowhere. Just trying to keep things unnoticed as much as I can." He shrugs as if it's nothing, pulling your desk chair back to sit. "Anyways, I have good news." He smiles widely, making his cheeks look plumper.
"Yeah, well that sucks because you have to answer my questions first. I assume you saw what happened today." You ask, quirking your eyebrows up, daring him to protest and you let out a satisfied hum when he only replies with a nod. "Say, what happened to Lee Heeseung before? I was busy preparing for a contest back then, I barely took notice of him." You casually ask, turning your back to him as you start walking towards the small shelf at the corner of your room.
He sighs, the cheerful and bubbly aura on his face wavering, showing remorse and pity in its place. "Heeseung went into a short coma after almost getting beaten up to death." He starts and you listen with wide eyes, shocked that you were so preoccupied to the point where you didn't know that something so life-threatening happened to one of your classmates.
As if to reminisce about the past incident, Sunoo looks outside, moonlight hitting his face as he admires it. "That day when he was supposed to meet you at the rooftop, he got stopped by those three. They started beating him up because he was a witness to something horrible they did. Heeseung wouldn't agree to turn a blind eye like they wanted him to so they beat the crap out of him. He got beaten up over and over after he woke up and was well enough to go back to school again. His family isn't that rich and they already have trouble paying their usual bills. As you know, hospital bills aren't cheap and they have to work themselves to death just to pay their debt. Heeseung could tell they were all having a hard time because of him." Picking up a random pencil on your table, he starts fidgeting with it, twisting the object between two fingers as he continues to tell you Heeseung's story.
"Heeseung changed after that day. He suddenly got more serious, more stoic and he even stopped hanging out with his friends all together. He stopped doing everything he loved and drowned himself in work. He was still getting beaten up by those three until all of it became too much to bear for a high school student. That, along with carrying the guilt of knowing… N-Nevermind. Eventually, you know… He… He killed himself."
"So if I didn't arrive there at all he would've gotten into a coma and all of this would've happened?" Sunoo nods sadly, speaking the truth. Your heart feels dejected and hurt as drops of what would usually be rain but —are now replaced with tears of your own— make their way down your face for the first time in what seemed like forever. Your thoughts are scrambled, filled to the brim with emotion, when suddenly, you remember something that doesn't quite make sense to you still. "You said he was a witness to something, what was he a witness of?"
"I-I don't know if it's my place, YN." He's hesitant to say as he tries his best to avoid eye contact with you. Already feeling the guilt of not knowing something so vile happening to someone, you're speechless when he doesn't tell you.
"Oh for goodness sake! You already brought me back here against the universal laws, I'm doing this with the fear of me and the people around me getting fucking hurt. I'm sure you can tell me what he saw." You scoff. Still, he seems conflicted about whether to tell you or not but his hesitance only annoys you so you press him on even more. "What did he see, Sunoo?" You ask, pausing in between words.
"YN… I-I really think you should ask Heeseung, instead. I won't be able to give you the full—"
"Just tell me what you know!" You scream out. "I'm so sick of this! You want me to help him yet you give me nothing to go off of. How am I supposed to save him if you won't tell me why he's getting beaten up?!"
"That's the thing! You've already saved him, YN!" He replies back enthusiastically, hoping you'd change your mind. "You're a smart kid YN. I'm sure you know what the butterfly effect theory is, don't you?"
You pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance. "Yes, I do and what about it?" You deadpan.
"You managed to save Lee Heeseung from his coma! Meaning, his family won't get flooded with debts and he won't feel guilty for being the reason for it. That's enough to lessen the pain Heeseung felt and he won't be pushed to take his life anymore." It sounds absurd but his theory pans out right. With you arriving early to the scene, Heeseung didn't get beaten to the brink of death, saving him from his coma and lessening his feeling of being a burden. It seems like a small change but the effect is massive. Just like what the butterfly effect entails.
"We can go back right now while they still don't know about it and you won't be harmed." His offer seems too good to be true but you see no signs of error with his plan.
But still, you're bothered, itching to know what Heeseung has seen. "If we continue now won't Heeseung still get beaten up by those shit heads?"
"He'll fight back this time. With you and the others by his side, his resolve is now stronger." He's not telling you the whole truth.
By the way his hands are moving and the tone of his voice, you can tell he's lying. He might be an otherworldly being but the boy doesn't know anything about being a good liar.
"And what about the thing he witnessed, are you willing to tell me now?" You ask, leaning your body weight onto on foot whilst crossing your arms over your chest.
"No." He tries to answer simply. However, you notice the way his jaw clenches along with his fists whenever you touch upon the subject. "You don't need to know about that, YN."
"And why is that? You've told me useless information before. Surely this isn't any different than those."
"It is, YN." He tries convincingly but in the end, his gaze falters as he locks eyes with your persistent ones, finally realizing that you weren't going to stop asking until he told you. So with a sigh of defeat. "Five days ago, when Heeseung was on his way back home from school, he saw a girl being assaulted by those people who beat him up. Before they could do anything to the girl, Heeseung managed to rescue her and get away. In the original timeline, Heeseung and the girl will press charges and fail. The girl… she'll continue living her life in fear of them coming back. She blamed Heeseung for not being able to do anything. She said that if he couldn't help her put them in jail then he should've left them to do what they wanted with her; that it was all his fault."
'Ungrateful bitch.'
You don't have any idea who the girl is but your blood feels like it's going to boil through your skin with your hand itching to touch a certain someone's cheek. Despite what you know she's been through, all you feel is hatred and malice towards the girl as there's not an ounce of sympathy as you're unable to wrap your head around her thought process.
"How can someone be so ungrateful!?" You scream out in shock. "He's just as much of a victim than she is and she has the fucking audacity to blame him? The person who saved her?" You don't expect a reasonable answer from the boy, more so saying it out of disbelief and anger.
Far from his usual bubbly self, Sunoo only replies with a nod, seeming to be ashamed as he bows his head down, unable to look you in the eye.
"Why did you keep this hidden from me?" You sigh in exasperation, nudging your chin towards him.
"She… She's actually my sister, sadly." He smiles both in shame for her sister's actions and sorrow for what could have almost happened to her. "I guess I was just ashamed."
Speechless, you stammer for a few moments, mouth open and closing in shock as you try to compose a more coherent sentence. "Wow, I guess we can't really choose our relatives, can we?" You sight out, smiling sadly. "I'm sorry for talking crap about her like that."
All Sunoo does is shrugs. "It's okay. She wasn't always the best sister."
"Okay then. As long as Heeseung is fine, I'm willing to go back." You breathe out, patting the sides of your thighs to ready yourself. Sunoo smiles at you, nodding in appreciation.
OCTOBER 16 ༉༊
Opening your eyes, you're met with the same frost that the rain brought you like the last time you went to bed. The only difference your half-awaken body could comprehend is the amount of pillows suddenly decorating your bed— not to mention how hard the one placed on your back feels. Gripping the blanket tighter around your body, you turn in place, humming in satisfaction when the pillow wraps its arms around your waist tighter. In your state, you snuggle deeper into its warm embrace.
You stay like that for a couple of minutes, trying to catch your dreams as you relish the comfort both your pillows and blankets were giving you when out of nowhere, a chuckle breaks its way through your ears, catching you off-guard. With wide eyes, you turn around in a quick motion and sure enough, like a male lead in a teenage romantic drama, Lee Heeseung is laid there beside you on the bed, looking at you with stars in his eyes. Seeing your expression, he giggles and it feels like he's serenading you with tooth rottingly sweet songs while his nose crinkles with glee as strands of his hair decorate his puffed up face.
In this moment, you could tear up. In fact, that's just what you do, you burst into tears the moment you lock eyes with him. Sobbing, you bury your head at the crook of his neck as your hands wrap around his waist tightly, afraid to let go because you think that if you do, you might wake up. Your own tears stain his neck but he doesn't seem to mind, more so showing concern towards your actions. He pats you in the back, asking you what's wrong, but you only reply to him with a defiant shake of your head and a hard squeeze as he tries to take a look at you.
"YN?"
He's alive and he's laying down beside you. Your heartbeat is fastened, stupefied by how you could feel his touch on your skin, how you could feel his breath on your forehead, and how you can feel the beating of his heart through the thin layer of his plain white t-shirt. He’s the only thing you can feel and you’re over the moon by it.
“H-Heeseung.” You hiccup, leaving his neck to look at his face as you cup his cheeks with both hands. “You’re here.” You breathe out, chuckling as you smile through your tear stricken face.
His eyes are filled with worry as he looks at you, hand coming to mirror your actions as he wipes the stray tears that left your eyes. “I’ve been here since yesterday, baby. What do you mean?”
Although you’re confused by how Lee Heeseung, your classmate who had just confessed to you, is in your room, sleeping beside you, you don’t question it. Wanting to indulge in the moment longer, you bury your head in his chest in a hug, overjoyed by the outcome of your crazy adventure. Truely, it's a blessing in the skies to have Heeseung beside you, living and breathing. What’s more lucky is how your relationship with him has seemed to blossom after your obscure confession, but you wouldn't have it any other way because right now, Heeseung will be right beside you, always— just where you want him to be.
“Did you have a nightmare again?” He pouts with furrowed brows. “I didn’t cheat on you in your dreams again, did I? Dream Heeseung is actually such an asshole.” He finishes by rolling his eyes in disgust.
He’s insulting himself and normally, you would be against it, voicing your distaste through your inner thoughts, however, instead of doing that, you laugh, finding his humor comforting while his body is pressed against yours.
Now, you don’t mind the thunderous rain anymore. With Heeseung beside you, you feel like you can have a positive view on everything bad that gets thrown your way. Besides, what's the worst that can happen? Him dying? No problem, you have a reaper as a friend to help you with that.
Although yours and Heeseungs relationship hasn’t been online for that long, you’ve come to the realization that in your case, time is irrelevant. Time is complex and always changing. Some may say that time goes by too fast and for some, too slow, however, there is one thing you know that will never change, and that’s Heeseung. With time, your admiration for him will only grow, turning into love and the next is what’s beyond that. As you watch the way his eyes shine every time he talks, you dive in deeper, willingly drowning yourself in him until he’s all that you can see, hear, feel, touch, and taste. With time, the both of you will grow, change, and mature, but that doesn’t scare you. You aren't frightened that he might turn into someone else and leave the highschool Heeseung behind him, no, because like time, Heeseung is ever so changing.
How you know your relationship was formed might not be what others perceive as normal, but to you, it’s perfect. No matter how many lives you live nor how many universes there are, you’ll still choose him because at the end of the day, who doesn’t want Lee Heeseung to sing them to sleep. It’s like walking around with a spotify premium wherever you go!
Nevertheless, you’ll protect him and he'll do the same for you. With this frail and useless body of yours, you’ll defend him. It doesn't matter who you're dealing with or how big the problem is because he knows that you’ll be there by his side. With that thought and your love in mind, Heeseung feels like he could conquer the world— not that he wants to anyways. All the things he wants in life are already right in front of him, in the shape of you. Sure, it’s short, messy, and can get incredibly emotional at times but that doesn’t matter because he wouldn't want you any other way than yourself.
"Belated Happy Birthday, by the way." You whisper through your tears..
From outside the water stained window of your room, two prying eyes are peeking in, looking at the loving couple sprawled across their room on a rainy day.
“Sunoo, you’re lucky this didn’t cause any trouble with the time cycle.” Apollyon says whilst sighing in defeat once he turns his head and notices that the reaper he came here with just continues to blatantly stare at the both of you with longing in his eyes. “You’re new that’s why im letting you get away with this but I'll have you know that if you do something like this again—”
“I know.” The boy simply replies.
Tired, he shakes his head at the boy in defeat. Like the other, he turns his head to look at the unknowing couple happily talking to each other. Heeseung leans his lips near your ear, whispering. You listen to him eagerly, eyes growing animatedly wide once he’s finished and a feverous red-hot blush coats your face. He leans away to look at your reaction, however before he could, you turn your head away, slapping his chest and pointing a lecturing finger at him afterwards.
“They’re good for each other.” Apollyon comments, complimenting the both of you. “You’re more suited to be cupid instead of reaper, don't you think?” He jokes which the other only shrugs in response.
“By the way, about the soul you're looking for—”
“Leave it.”
Apollyon stops and looks at the boy with disbelief written across his face. “A-Are you sure?”
“I'm sure. She deserves peace and I’m not going to be the one taking it away from her.” Sunoo says, smiling even though his heart felt like it was chipping away.
“Besides, she killed herself to get away from me, didn't she?”
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₊ ˚ ⊹ ིྀ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍
𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝖻𝗈𝗅 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗂 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗇 𝗑 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾-𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
He stares at you, the glisten in his eyes that you've come to know whispers his truth. His shaking hands hold your wrists. Droplets slide from his hair, tracing the sharp angles of his face, mixing with the storm clinging to his skin as he stares at your face. You feel it before you hear it. You see it before he speaks. "Marry me." It's his last attempt to keep you from walking away.
𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: chaebol au, strangers to lovers, angst, family issues, toxic societal norms, yearning, longing.
𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍-𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: MDNI, multiple-smut scene, heavy make-out, body-worship, nipple-play, fingering, oral!fem receiving.
𝗐𝖼: 17.5k — playlist.
𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: REPUBLISHED. to clear things up, this is a spin-off of the main story but each txt male lead gets their own reader! (aka you, heh). other female leads might show up for the plot, but they’ll stay nameless.
(read the first part if you haven’t — but you can read this as a standalone!)
If there is one truth that time cannot taint in your life, it is your love for flowers. They bloom unburdened, much like the love you cradle for things that ask for nothing in return.
Perhaps you were a flower in your previous life — maybe that’s why people have always likened you to one. A flower is something delicate, something beautiful, something that marks in memory with its scent and colour. Yet if you were to tell the real reason why they call you that, it wouldn’t be for any of those things. It wouldn’t be because you were particularly graceful or charming.
It would be because you see the world through the eyes of a dreamer, a romantic, someone who clings to the smallest joys as if they were... lifelines.
You cherish the minuscule things, not out of whimsy but out of habit, because you grew up knowing that gratitude was not just a virtue but a necessity. You learned to say thank you for everything placed into your hands, whether it was something you longed for or simply something to fill the space on your plate. Even at nine years old, a meal was never just a meal... it was a gift.
You don’t blame your parents for leaving. People say you should be grateful — they gave you life, after all. And they did. But not even a year into your existence, they chose their own paths, carving out futures that no longer had room for you. And you never resented them for it, not really.
It doesn’t mean it wasn’t lonely.
No matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, it’s hard so, so hard to grow up in a house that never truly felt like home. Hard to wake up each morning knowing there’s no mother to greet you, no father’s voice to remind you you’re safe. Hard to fall asleep at night, knowing that if a nightmare came, there would be no one there to hold you.
No one at all.
They're happy, somewhere out there. Twin sisters from your father’s side, three brothers from your mother’s. And you were happy for them, truly. They had their lives, their homes, their own worlds to tend to. They checked in when they could — once, maybe twice a month, just enough to remind you they were still out there. Just enough to keep you from forgetting... while you stayed with your grandmother.
And that was enough. Or at least, it had to be.
“Nana,” you sigh, “You just watched that yesterday. Are you sure you want to go again?”
“Yes. Mom.”
You continued to scrub the plate she ate from, forcing a smile. She’s called you Mom again. It happens often now. Some days, you’re her daughter. Other days, her niece, a friend. But most days, you’re her mother.
And that’s fine. It has to be fine. As long as there are still days when she calls you anything at all. Because the worst days, the ones that keep you up at night, are the ones when she just looks at you with empty eyes, searching your face like you’re a stranger.
You swallow hard and turn back to her. “Did you take your meds, Nana?”
"Yes."
You wipe your hands on the kitchen towel, glancing toward the small pillbox on the counter. Walking over, you flip open the lid, scanning the compartments. She took them. A quiet breath of relief escapes you.
“Thank you,” you murmur, closing the box. “After this, we’ll head to bed, okay?”
“Okay.”
You sink onto the couch beside her, adjusting the hem of your floral home dress—the one you tailored yourself, stitching distractions into the fabric on nights when the weight of it all felt unbearable.
Mama Mia plays on the screen, the familiar melodies filling the small space between you. It’s always been her favourite movie. Even after the diagnosis, even as the world around her blurred at the edges, she kept coming back to it.
As if, somehow, it was something she could still hold onto.
You glance at her, watching the way her lips move with the lyrics, her hands tapping against the armrest in time with the music. She remembers this.
“Can I hold your hand while we watch?” you ask softly.
Your grandmother turns to you with a soft smile, her eyes whispering at the corners. She’s seventy-five now, her hair thinner, her hands frail, but to you, she’s still the same. Still beautiful. Still her.
People told you to put her in a nursing home. Said it would be easier, that it was the practical choice. But how could you? How could you leave the one person who never left you? The person who held your hand through every scraped knee, every heartbreak. The only real family you have.
Her frail fingers squeeze yours gently. Then, just as you turn back to the movie, you hear it.
“I love you, Y/N.”
Your breath halts. You tear your gaze from the screen, eyes wide, heart pounding. It’s been months — months of her calling you by the wrong names, or worse, not calling you anything at all. But now, she’s looking right at you, remembering you. A lump sits in your throat as tears sting your eyes. You grip her hand tighter.
“I love you too, Nana,” you whisper, voice shaking.
And you do. More than anything. Even if one day, she forgets. Even if, someday, she doesn’t remember you at all.
You slide the key into the lock, your right shoulder weighed down by the new pots you picked up earlier. As the door swings open, the soft chime of the bell echoes through the quiet shop. Stepping inside, you nudge the door shut behind you and flip the sign to OPEN with a satisfied smile.
It’s 10 a.m., and the morning light spills in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the flowers on display. Running your fingers gently over delicate petals, you inhale their fresh scent, the fragrance mixing with the faint traces of paint lingering on the walls — your own handiwork, soft strokes of color bringing the shop to life.
You set your bag down behind the counter and power on the computer, scrolling through the day’s orders. Five minutes pass in a comfortable rhythm before the familiar chime rings again. The door swings open.
Someone’s here.
"Good morning!" You greet with a warm smile, but your voice falters just slightly as you take him in. He’s not the usual type to wander into a flower shop. Dressed in a sharp, black tailored suit, he carries himself with an air of quiet confidence. The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose add to his composed demeanor, but it’s his presence — towering in the doorway, making the shop feel smaller somehow, catches you off guard.
Still, you keep your smile, smoothing the surprise on your chest. "Are you looking for any particular flowers?"
He glances at you and gives a small nod — a quick acknowledgment that he’s heard you. It’s familiar. You’ve dealt with customers like this before, the ones who prefer to browse in silence before saying what they need.
You nod back slightly, a polite gesture, then shift your gaze back to your computer, trying to shake off the strange unease prickling at you. He hasn’t even spoken yet, and still, something about him makes your pulse tick faster.
Why?
“I'm looking to have a funeral arrangement made.” he says suddenly, making you blink and look up.
His eyes meet yours.
You cleared your throat, "I'm sorry for your loss." You try to follow the routine speech that you have. "Let me get my book and I'll assist you. Please, take a seat."
You point towards the table, a round wooden structure with three matching chairs, a small white vase holding a fresh boquet decorated the center. He quickly followed your instructions, pulling the chair as it scraped on along the wooden floorboards before they sit with a sigh.
You took a quick glance at him again, watching as he fishes out his phone, one of the brands that is you think the latest release, and you see a unique looking rolex in his wrists. You avert your eyes as soon as you did, and your eyes catch the black car parked in front of your store.
Your store.
Your small humble store that is stark comparison compared to everything this man have.
You cleared your thoughts as to why he chose this place to buy flowers. You turned around to gather your book filled with arrangements.
"Do you run this place by yourself?" As you reach for the leather spine of the book, you glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes already on yours.
He didn’t respond, even as you took a seat across from him. Still, you could feel his gaze following you. You pushed the roses aside, their petals bruised from restless handling, and replaced them with the open book. Its pages, worn thin, exhaled the faint, bitter-sweet scent of aged paper — a comfort you almost resented tonight.
He stayed silent, his arms draped over the table, eyes steady. His presence bled into the air, heavy and warm, as though the room itself bent around him. You swore you could see it — something low and smoldering radiating off of him, a slow burn that clawed past the polished edges he wore so well.
You tore your gaze away before it could swallow you whole.
You tighten your grip on the pen. “May I have the full name of the deceased?” Your hand drifts across the top of the page, hovering over the empty space waiting to be filled, just as you wait for his answer.
When it comes, it lands harder than you expect.
“It… doesn’t have a full name,” he says quietly. Your eyes lift to meet his. “But we call him Moon.”
Your breath catches. There’s only one meaning behind words like that. A child. Your mind pulls back into dim memories; the parents who’d come to your shop before, searching for flowers with little else to offer but love for someone whose life never had the chance to unfold. Your lips part, but no sound comes. You drop your gaze, forcing it back down to the blank page. You’ve done this before — too many times — but it still finds a way to shake you.
Pushing through the heaviness in your chest, you press the pen to paper and write the name.
Moon.
“And what are you looking for in this arrangement?” The words burn as they leave you, bitter and dry, clinging to the back of your throat. You wait, feeling the seconds stretch thin between you.
“What do you think?”
You should know. This is what you do — what you’ve poured years into. Flowers have been your language longer than words ever have. But it’s always this question that unravels you. It pulls at the seams of whatever certainty you pretend to hold. Of course you have ideas. They come in flashes,but what are they worth?
What if it’s wrong? What if it’s not enough?
The thoughts spiral fast, like they always do. Familiar and merciless, burrowing deep where you can’t shake them loose. They weigh heavy in your chest, anchoring themselves into the cracks of a confidence too fragile to stand against them. You sit there, hollowed out and grasping for something to offer this man, something that won’t disappoint him, or worse, dishonor what he’s lost.
A baby. A mother greiving. And now this man, carrying his own mourning, offering no guidance to make the task easier. Your fingers twitch, restless and unsure. You have to give him something. Anything.
“Well, for funerals, people usually gravitate toward chrysanthemums,” you say, lifting your free hand toward the cluster of blooms sitting in their vases to the right. His gaze follows where you gesture. “Lilies are another favorite,” you add, motioning to the soft petals hanging to the left. “And people often ask for—”
“But what do you think?” His voice cuts through yours, making your words falter. Slowly, your eyes meet his, and he holds your gaze across the table. “What do you gravitate toward?”
“White roses,” you murmur, your gaze flicking away from him and toward the blooms resting quietly in the front window of the shop. “They symbolize… eternal love, and remembrance.” Your voice softens. “If it were me… someday… I think it would make me happiest to be remembered that way. To be loved like that, even after.”
When you finish, your eyes drift back to his, uncertain, before you quickly lower them to the blank page in front of you. “Sorry,” you whisper, flinching at your own rambling.
“No.” His voice is firmer this time, “Don’t be sorry. Tell me more.”
You swallow hard. Your heartbeat stirs faster in your chest, a throb blooming from the tender cut on your fingertip. You breathe through it.
“Forget-me-nots,” you say. “I suppose… I’d start with a base of hyacinths, then layer in forget-me-nots and foliage as filler. And maybe top it off with white roses.”
“Think you can have it ready in two days?” he asks, his gaze shifting toward the rosebuds waiting to be trimmed on the table. “That’s when the memorial service will be.”
You nod before the words even catch up to you. “Yes, yes. That’s no problem.” You lower your head and start to write, sketching out the arrangement you’d described, even as your hand strains to keep steady against the shake running deep in your chest.
“Here.” He sets a small black bag on the table. You don’t have to open it to know from the weight, the way it sits — it’s easily a week’s worth of your shop’s earnings.
“That’s too much. It’ll only be —”
“It’s the least I can do,”His voice is gentle but leaves no room to argue.“I doubt many would have come up with something as thoughtful as yours.”
“Please… I can’t let you overpay.” Your hand rests on the bag, fingers curling around the edge as you begin to slide it back toward him but his hand meets yours, halting you. His fingertips graze against your skin.
His eyes catch yours, and the words die between your parted lips, caught somewhere too deep to reach. Slowly, he stands from his chair, his hand slipping away from the pouch. You watch him smooth out the front of his coat, before stepping toward the center of the table. His fingers reach for the rose in front of you. The stem just one thorn away from being trimmed. The same thorn that had cut you earlier. “I’ll take this too, then,” he says. “Is that alright with you?”
The nervousness clawing at your chest tightens, cinching your breath and locking the words in your throat. It burns sharp and hot, like a brand searing them shut. You can only nod, managing the smallest smile before your eyes drop, trailing back down to the thorn that had drawn your blood.
You reach for your shears and rise from your chair, stepping toward him.
“I’d just started working on this one when you came in,” you murmur, lifting the sharp edge to the base of the stem. His fingers shift aside, careful and slow, as you steady the blades around the thorn. His eyes stay on you, not on the flower, not on your hands, but on the furrow of your brow as you focus.
You sense the moment he holds his breath.
With one clean motion, you clip the thorn away. “Thank you,” you say, your voice soft and thinner than you meant it to be.
“Thank you,” he echoes. His tone mirrors yours, but heavier somehow. “I look forward to seeing what you create.” He turns toward the door, tall frame gliding in that unhurried way of his, but he doesn’t touch the handle yet. His body shifts just enough to glance back. “By the way… I should get your name.”
“Y/N,” you answer. The name comes easy, but your breath feels uneven behind it. “And yours?”
You’ve never been like this before. Never so openly invested in someone you’d barely exchanged a few scattered words with. Never so quick to give away your curiosity. But here you stand; unmoving, staring, studying him more openly than you’d dare with anyone else.
He smiles. Barely. So faint you might have missed it entirely… if you weren’t so completely, foolishly locked on him. Enough of a curve to tug at the corner of his mouth. And there, a small hollow moves in his cheek. Does it get deeper when he really smiles? Does his smile reach his eyes?
Your throat tightens at the thought, inexplicable.
“Soobin,”
He came back two days later. Right when he said he would. When you handed him the arrangement, his eyes lingered on it longer than you expected. His face didn’t shift much, but you caught it, a flicker of surprise, as though he hadn’t entirely expected it to look the way it did. As though he hadn’t expected you to remember it so well.
“Thank you,” he said, voice low, steady. And before you could step back or fold the moment away, he spoke again. Another request. The same one. For next week.
And that’s how it started.
It became a pattern before you realized you’d memorized it. Every week, almost the same day, he returned. Always asking for the same thing. And it took so little, for you to start waiting for him. You didn’t need to admit you were. It was clear enough in the way your hands moved faster on the mornings you thought he might show up. The way you found yourself glancing at the clock more often. The way your breath shifted, when the bell over the door chimed and you hoped it would be him.
The weeks folded into months before you realized how quickly the time had passed.
“Your wife must be having a hard time,” you say quietly, watching him from behind the counter as his fingers brush along the edges of the newest arrangement vases you’d set out last week. Your voice tries to sound casual, light enough not to pry. “But she’s lucky to have you.”
It’s the only explanation that ever made sense. The one you’d quietly settled on back when he first asked for those mourning flowers. That was how you’d made sense of it. How you’d made peace with why the arrangements always felt so heavy.
He stops. “Wife?” His brow lifts, faint confusion softening the lines around his eyes.
Your throat pulls tight. “Uh… yeah,” you fumble, heat creeping up the back of your neck. “… How is she recovering?”
There’s a pause. His stare doesn’t waver. His jaw sets, just enough that you can tell he’s measuring something inside before letting the words go.
“It’s for my sister.”
Sister. All this time, you thought you understood. The flowers, the endless varieties he carefully chose week after week — they were for his sister. That’s what you told yourself. It made sense. She must be the one who lost a child. A grief so cavernous that even the brightest blooms could barely soften its edges. You could understand it. the tenderness of a brother trying to tether her to something gentle. The quiet, steady ritual of bringing beauty to someone drowning.
But one year have passed. One year, and still, he comes.
You watch Soobin now, and something inside you twists sharp and deep. Your throat pulls tight, a burn clawing up the back of your eyes, your heart thrashing in your chest like it’s frantic to be let loose. His fingers move across the petals with reverence, the kind of touch meant for something breakable, sacred. As though each flower is an apology too heavy to speak aloud. A brother so devoted, so relentless in his quiet offerings — and surely he has a life beyond this. A job. Responsibilities. People waiting for him. And yet here he is. Always here. Always returning, as though caught in some private penance only he can feel, rooted in your little shop like he doesn’t know where else to go. Every week, standing in the hush of your little shop like a man trying to repent for a sin he never committed.
The flowers… you’ve always loved them. They’re stitched with meanings you’ve memorized like scripture; hope, solace, rebirth. They ask for nothing in return, and still, they give so much. The burn behind your eyes sharpens as you watch him, your mind comparing him to one, your chest aching in places you thought you’d long since sealed shut.
You wrap the arrangement slowly, careful with each fold and knot. Your heart thuds against your ribs like it’s trying to outrun the thoughts crowding your chest. The ones you don’t say out loud. The thought unsettles you more than it should. It coils tight in your gut, sharp and sickening. Because part of you already knows — one day, the door won’t open. One day, he won’t come anymore. You hear his footsteps before you see him. He’s seen that you’re nearly done ,the bouquet he asked for, the one you’ve handled like it’s something sacred. You feel his presence before you meet his eyes.
You don’t know why. You can’t name it, not exactly. Maybe it’s the dread that coils in your stomach that there will be a day you wake on a day he’s supposed to come, only to find the hours slipping by, the bell above the door never ringing. And before you can stop yourself, before your good sense can catch up to your mouth, the words tumble out. “Would you want to go out sometime?”
You instantly regret it, the way your voice cracked, the way you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly, fumbling. “That was, I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position. If it’s invasive or —”
“Yes.” You blink. His expression is steady, unshaken. “Yes,” he says again, softer this time. “I was going to ask you, too.”
Your breath stumbles in your chest. You nod, unsure of what to say, heart hammering loud enough to drown out everything else, but he goes on, “Next week. Same day, same time. Let’s do that.”
You nod again, this time slower. Something settles in your chest, light but anchoring. “And,” he adds, as he picks up the bouquet, “make another arrangement.” You glance at him, brows lifting in question. “Anything you want,” he says. “Doesn’t matter what it costs. Just… make something for me.”
You swallow the rush in your throat, the spark behind your ribs. You can already feel the stems in your hands, the petals under your fingers. You don’t know what you’ll make yet but you know it will say everything you can’t.
“Okay.”
You stare at the bouquet as it slumps at the edge of the table. The one you arranged so carefully, over and over again for days.
Dawn had already cracked the sky.
Now, the gloss on your lips is gone, long since faded like the sun. The coat you pressed at sunrise feels stiff, resentful, like it's been waiting just as long. Your spine aches from sitting too straight for too many hours, and your breath trembles in your throat, thin and cold.
He said he’d be here before lunch. He said he’d take you out.
He never came.
Maybe he got held up. Maybe it slipped his mind. Maybe something urgent came up. You tell yourself these things because it’s easier than the alternative. Still, the silence wraps around you too tightly. It hums in your ears, thick and heavy, until the only thing left is the dull thud of your heartbeat, knocking against your ribs like it’s looking for a way out.
Your eyes sting. Are you even allowed to cry over this?
“Well,” you murmur, voice thinner than you’d like, “let’s get you to a vase.” Carefully, you gather the arrangement, fingertips grazing the petals. You breathe in — soft, floral, faintly sweet — and hold it there.
Your movements felt slow. Deliberate, almost. Strange, when these steps had always come easy to you, and yet, you lingered. As if dragging out every motion might somehow buy him time to show. Your gaze settles on the bouquet now resting in the vase. You exhale, slow and shallow, but no words rise to meet the breath. There’s nothing left to say. Nothing worth breaking the quiet for. Turning to the door, your steps this time are steady, unhesitant. No more stalling. You did what you could. You waited. You hoped.
And now, it’s clear; he’s not coming.
You were just about to lower the blinds when a familiar car slid to a stop out front. Your breath caught, frozen tight in your chest. You didn’t move, didn’t blink, as the driver’s door flung open before the engine had even settled into idle. There he was, the tall figure who’d haunted your thoughts for months, carved into every restless night. Disheveled, frantic, a deep frown cutting across his face.
When his eyes found yours, he ran.
The air slammed back into your lungs so fast it almost hurt. The fog, the static that had smothered you for hours, gone. Blown clean away in one look on his face.
He's here.
“Why did you wait for me?” The words tumbled out the moment he pushed the door open, his gaze locking onto yours. His face, guilt etched into every line. “You waited for me,” he said again, quieter this time. The guilt cracked, crumbled at the edges, and in its place came something softer. His eyes didn’t waver. It was awe, unmistakable and unguarded.
It was as if he couldn’t believe you were real.
The car ride was quiet. His coat rested over your shoulders, warm and grounding, as the streetlights blurred past. Since it was already late, Soobin had offered his place. You didn’t argue.
“We’re here,” he murmured, unbuckling his seatbelt. You’d somehow already undone yours without realizing it, stepping out into the cool air just as he rounded the front of the car to meet you. His hand hovered near the door, but you’d beaten him to it. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you breathed, offering a small smile. Your eyes drifted past him, brows pinching slightly as you took in the skyline ahead —towering buildings stretching into the night. Your confusion flickered across your face before you could hide it. “You said your apartment, right?”
He hummed, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. He nodded toward the buildings ahead. “Come on.”
You walked, still puzzled, trailing a step behind him. Your eyes wandered, curious and cautious, as you neared the towering building. Inside, staff seemed to scatter and straighten the moment they caught sight of Soobin. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Postures snapped upright. The door swung open before either of you reached it.
“Late evening, Mr. Choi,” the security guard greeted, bowing deeply. The others followed suit, dipping their heads in swift, practiced motions. It felt surreal. Like you’d stumbled into the middle of a K-drama you used to watch. Like you were seeing something you weren’t meant to. Soobin didn’t slow. He didn’t pause at the front desk like everyone else did. He just kept walking, glancing back once to make sure you were still with him. When he reached the elevator, he pressed the button without hesitation. The panel lit up, and you caught the word just above it; Penthouse.
Your breath caught, but you masked it quickly, dropping your gaze. That’s when you noticed his hands, resting at his sides, relaxed. The silence wrapped around you again. You shifted your hand, hesitant, pinky inching toward his. You just wanted to hold it — just once. Who knew if you’d get another chance like this? Maybe tomorrow he’d decide you weren’t someone he wanted to see anymore. Maybe you’d bore him. Maybe he’d drift away like people sometimes do.
So just once. Just to know what it felt like.
Your fingers moved closer, careful, unhurried. Barely an inch away — Ding. The elevator chimed, breaking your focus. Your hand froze mid-reach. Soobin turned, catching you dead-on. His gaze flicked down, just fast enough to see the way you yanked your hand back, swatting it away like you’d touched something too hot. “Uh—” you blurted.
His brows lifted slightly, softening — not in mockery, but in surprise. “Stop acting so cute, will you?” he murmured, and his words only deepened the flush on your cheeks. “You’re making it harder for me.”
Before you could even piece together what he meant, his hand reached out. His fingers found yours, threading between them with an ease that made your breath catch. The touch was warm, grounding, and when he gently tugged, you startled just a little. He didn’t say anything about it. He only pulled you softly toward him and guided you into the elevator. The elevator closes, but everything feels distant.
And all the while, his fingers stay laced with yours, anchoring you gently as the world rose around.
“Do you drink?” he asks, his voice low as he approaches the couch where you sit. The bottle in his hands glints under the warm lights, dark glass wrapped in crinkled gold foil, the wine inside a deep, velvet red that swirls languidly as he moves. One glance, and you already know: it’s expensive.
His penthouse is sprawling, though you suppose all penthouses are. “On special occasions,” you admit, watching as he reaches for two crystal glasses.
“Would you call this a special occasion?” He sinks into the couch beside you, his back meeting the cushions.
“I’d say so.” Your answer draws a small smile from him as he leans closer. Carefully, he cradles a glass in each hand and offers one to you. You accept it, fingertips brushing the cool surface as you balance the bowl of the glass in your palm, the slender stem threading between your knuckles. You lift it gently, only needing the faintest tilt toward your nose to catch the aroma. Your intuition was right, this would be the finest drink you’ve ever touched.
You take a sip. The wine blooms sharp on your tongue, threading warmth down your throat.
“Tell me,” he says, lifting the glass to his lips. His bangs fall loose over his eyes, soft and unbothered, and you fight the quiet urge to reach over and sweep them aside. “How did you start your business?”
“Like most things in this world,” you reply, taking another small sip, the pungent taste stinging your palate. “A bit of luck and a bit of misfortune.”
Soobin shifts, turning more fully toward you. One arm drapes along the back of the couch, as though he’s subconsciously reaching closer. His glass rests loosely against his thigh, “What was your luck?”
“I received money. Enough to build the business.”
“And the misfortune?”
Your throat tightens slightly. You swallow. “It was because my grandmother… wouldn’t be able to take care of it anymore.” Your voice softens. “Or herself anymore.”
The quiet smile at the corner of his lips falters, folding into something more solemn. A flat line. His eyes don’t leave you, they track every flicker of your expression: the slight furrow of your brow, the quick blinks you can’t quite suppress, the faint, compulsive bite to the inside of your cheek. But he doesn’t press.
“Why flowers?”
You know the answer. It unfurls easily in your mind, sprawling and layered. But a flicker of doubt tugs at you. If I ramble, will he grow tired of me?
“I liked their meanings,” you say instead, choosing your words slowly. “How each plant holds its own importance, just by existing. It’s fulfilling. And it’s a beautiful thing… seeing the way even simple arrangements can affect people.” You glance down, your thumb brushing the base of your glass. The words settle in the air between you.
He doesn’t fill the silence or shift in his seat. His eyes stay fixed on you. The glass in his hand remains perfectly still. His gaze lingers like he’s reading something delicate between your lines, like you’re a puzzle he’s in no rush to solve. He watches without pressing, without judgment. You feel the heat creep into your cheeks despite yourself, and you lower your gaze, hoping it hides the way your pulse trips over itself.
“I’m sorry,” he says after a pause, his voice lower, gentler. “I feel like I’m bombarding you with all these questions. Would you like to ask me something instead?”
A dozen questions flicker through your mind, each vying for space. Yet one floats to the surface, steady and clear, eclipsing the rest. “Why did you ask me to make you that bouquet?” The words leave you smoother than you expected.
For a breath longer, he says nothing. And then — a soft, breathy laugh escapes him. His eyes crinkle at the corners, something warm spilling over his features, and you swear you feel your heart tighten in your chest.
It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh. It’s the first time you’ve seen the hollows of his cheeks deepen, the dimples ghost into view.
“Well,” he says, clearing his throat gently, He leans forward slightly, setting his glass on the table with a clink. “I do have an answer. But it’s a long one… if you’ll bear with me.” You nod, something soft and weightless settling in your chest.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, voice steady, unflinching. “Every time I come to see you… you’re even more beautiful. And you take my breath away.” That ache—the one you’d fought to swallow down minutes ago—surges back with a quiet ferocity. Your bottom lip parts, breath hitching in surprise.
Soobin’s voice dips, even softer now, like he’s confessing something he’s carried for far too long. “I asked you to make me that bouquet because I knew you’d pour yourself into it. You’d try your best to make it perfect for me. And when I saw it… I knew you’d done exactly that.” He pauses, gaze never wavering from you. “I never planned to take it with me. That bouquet—it was always meant for you.”
He shifts closer, just a few inches, slow and unintrusive. You don’t look at him; your eyes drop away, blurred with the tears threatening to spill over. You hold them back with every ounce of restraint, blinking fast against the shimmer at your waterline.
“I could’ve gone to any florist,” he continues, his voice barely above a murmur, “bought flowers and handed them to you. But I didn’t want that. I wanted you to make them… for yourself.”
Your chest pulls tight, your breath shallow and quick.
“I wanted you to create something as beautiful as you are. That’s why I asked for the bouquet.” His words land soft, final. “Because you’re beautiful.”
You try to fight it. Your head lifts slightly, your gaze tipping upward as if looking higher might will the tears back in. But the moment you blink, they slip free, tracing a slow, unbidden path down the curve of your cheek. There’s no hiding it. Not from him. Soobin’s eyes track the tear’s descent, his expression open and unreadable.
“I…” You falter, biting down gently on your tongue as your throat burns, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says immediately, “Tell me.”
Your breath shudders out, thin and shaky. “It’s just… earlier, I thought you wouldn’t come back.” The fracture in your voice is clear, woven into every syllable. Soobin hears it as easily as if you’d shouted it. His focus sharpens, tender and intent, even as another tear slips down your cheek.
Without a word, he lifts his hand. His touch is featherlight, the side of his index finger brushes just beneath your eye, catching the tear before it can fall farther. The contact startles you; your breath catches, your eyes widening at the gentle weight of his skin on yours. Though he’d caught your tear, his hand lingers on your cheek. His skin is cooler than yours, a contrast that sends a ripple down your spine. Then his finger glides down the curve of your face, tracing a path to your chin. His touch is careful, as if he’s afraid you might shatter under anything less. His fingers cradle your chin gently, coaxing, as he tilts your face toward him. Your breath catches as your gaze is guided back to his.
He’s looking at you.
Your nerves spark like a live wire under your skin, a delicate ache blooming in your chest. You swear you’ll come apart if you move too quickly, if you breathe too hard. Your heartbeat drums mercilessly in your ears loud enough, to fill the silence between you.
He leans closer. Slowly, gingerly, he edges forward like he’s stepping through every invisible barrier you’d built, slipping past every wall you thought you’d carefully kept intact. You watch as his eyes trace the line of your lips. Is he feeling the same tremor, the same breathless ache threatening to consume you whole?
Your eyes mirror his, drifting down until they rest on his lips. You feel his breath first, warm and shallow against your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipation blooming low in your belly — an ache, a flutter, a trembling promise. The thought alone sends shivers down your spine.
His lips meet yours. It's soft.
You don’t dare move. His fingers remain at your chinr. And for the first time, you let yourself surrender completely, allowing someone else full, irrevocable control. You let him lead. You let yourself fall. Then, subtly, Soobin shifts. His lips part just slightly against yours, enough to press a second kiss, lighter than air, softer than thought. The faintest sound of it rings in your ears, delicate and clear, as if it’s the only sound left in the world. There is no one else. Nothing else. Only you and him.
When he pulls away, it’s slow. He creates space between you, his gaze dropping—gentle, searching. “I apologize,” he says softly, his voice drawing your eyes open again. His pupils are dark, downcast, uncertainty clouding their depths as his fingers slip away from your skin. “If I made you uncomfortable… if I overstepped — I’m sorry.”
Without a word, with your tears now stilled, you reach for him. Your fingers wrap gently around his wrist, the same hand that had so carefully traced your skin. You hold him. With a pull, you guide his hand back to your face. When his fingertips meet your skin again, a wordless relief unfurls in your chest.
He’s watching you. His eyes are locked to yours, dark and unwavering, tracking every small shift in your expression as if deciphering the meaning behind your touch. Your hand stays clasped at his wrist as you draw your lips inward, wetting them with a soft sweep of your tongue, a silent permission offered without a single breath of speech.
You see it instantly, the way his brow knits downward, a soft furrow of longing. His lips part slightly, a breath escaping that he doesn’t bother to rein in. The expression across his face is raw, unguarded, needy in a way that makes your stomach swoop, a sweet ache pulling low in your core. His gaze flickers downward, fixated on the subtle shift of your mouth.
Before you even can take your next breath, his lips are on yours again. His mouth meets yours with more urgency, yet still achingly soft. His free hand ghosts up your jaw, fingers threading into the hinge of your neck, You’re taken aback, quite literally as his mouth parts against yours, deepening the kiss in a way that makes your breath falter. Your head tips backward instinctively, but before you can drift too far, his hand is there to catch. His fingers tangle into the soft strands at the nape of your neck, cradling you.
You clutch tighter to his wrist, as if that alone could tether you. The moment dissolves into something weightless, and the sensation of Soobin’s kiss begins to eclipse everything else — until the world narrows to nothing but his lips, his breath, his touch.
Your lungs tighten. Your head spins just as you feel the graze of his tongue against your lower lip. With a soft gasp, you break away.
Cool air rushes between your lips as you pull back, your breath coming quick and shallow. Your fingers, once gripping tight at his wrist loosen, falling limp against his skin. His hand slides gently from the back of your head, fingertips gliding down the column of your neck before settling against the delicate curve of your throat. His thumb traces there idly, barely a whisper of contact.
His voice, when it comes, is hushed. “Are you alright?”
All your life, you had been pursued. Suitors with bright eyes and polished words circled like moths, eager to capture your hand, to fasten their futures to yours. They came with promises that echoed hollow against your ribs. They smiled too easily, spoke too sweetly and though you tried, how you tried to meet them halfway, something inside you always stayed untouched.
You had forced smiles you didn’t mean. Laughed at jokes that never reached your eyes. You wrapped yourself in false emotions like gossamer, hoping the weight of them would feel like belonging. But after every encounter, you only felt emptier. You never understood why.
Until now.
With Soobin’s kiss still lingering on your lips, with his hand resting against the tender line of your throat as though you were something precious, and easily breakable. The truth settles in you, your heart had never been wandering.
It had been waiting. Waiting for him.
It wasn’t that no one wanted you. It was that your soul had already made its choice long before your body could catch up. And after all the quiet, lonely years of not knowing what you were longing for, he had finally found you.
You are home.
"I…" Your voice is thin, threadbare with wonder. You search for words, but none seem big enough to hold what you’re feeling. "I’ve never… been kissed like that before."
He smile slowly, a laugh tumbles from him and the thumb resting against your neck drifts upward, grazing the curve of your cheek with such careful reverence it makes your breath catch. You don’t have time to react. He leans in before you can even think, brushing a kiss against your lips, so brief it’s almost weightless. Too fleeting, too quick, and when he pulls away, you instinctively lean forward, chasing the fading warmth.
"Is that better?" he murmurs, mischief softening the edges of his gaze.
You swallow thickly, your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his touch. "I didn’t…" Your voice falters, a smile tugging unbidden at the corner of your lips. "…say that I didn’t like it."
It was as if your words had unspooled something inside him, like you'd spoken a secret incantation only he could hear. The moment your words left your lips, he was on you — his mouth capturing yours with a hunger. His hands slid down at your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, warm palms pressing against your skin as if he needed to feel every inch of you. His lips broke from yours only to travel lower, grazing the delicate line of your jaw before finding the curve of your neck. The first brush of his mouth there drew a sound from you, a soft moan. You felt him smile against your skin, a low, pleased hum from his throat as if your every sigh was a gift.
Without thinking, your arms wrapped tighter around him. You shifted, lifting your legs to curl around his waist, pulling him flush against you. The soft, unrestrained groan that escaped him at the motion sent a spark racing straight through you.
You had never felt so wanted as hands slid down, tracing the shape of your thigh before they dipped to the bend of your knee. You had never felt so treasured as he slowly, began to gather the fabric of your skirt, dragging it higher along your leg with unhurried care, revealing skin he touched as though memorizing you with each pass.
"You taste divine," he breathed against your neck, the words threaded with awe and desire. His lips trailed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your throat, grazing you with teeth soft enough to make you shiver, as if he wanted to consume you completely yet worship every part of you. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently as you guided him back to your lips. He met you eagerly, melting into the kiss as though he’d waited lifetimes for it.
“If you want me to stop… tell me,” he whispered against your mouth, voice rough and tender all at once.
You nodded unafraid, and in that quiet, unspoken agreement, you watched something flicker in his eyes. As if he was vowing to worship you fully but never without your permission. His hands moved, deft and gentle, helping you ease out of the thin barrier of fabric that separated you, his gaze never leaving yours as if even in this unraveling, your comfort was his compass.
His smile curves against the delicate line of your neck, breath fanning across your skin as his words slip through, velvet-soft and low, “You’re already so wet for me.” His tone is laced with adoration. “I didn’t know you’d be such a good girl for me.”
The world dissolves.
It shrinks and softens until all that’s left is him — Soobin and the press of his body against yours, Soobin and the way his voice drips honey and reverence into your ear, Soobin and the hands that worship every part of you like he’s learning a language spoken only through touch.
Every piece of clothing that falls away is marked by his mouth, kisses dragged slow across your lips, your jaw, the hollow of your throat, the slope of your collarbones. His lips move like he’s tracing constellations on your skin, as though, somehow, you hold the entire night sky within you.
His hands, large and steady, move over you with a duality that makes you ache. Greedy and gentle. Certain but tender. He touches you as though he’s starved for you, but terrified you might slip away if he’s too careless. His fingers map your curves, glide down your sides, ghost along the backs of your thighs, curling possessively.
The room is thick with something heavier than air. It’s breath; yours and his, tangled in rhythm. It’s the soft rustle of fabric sliding over skin, the quiet catch of a moan swallowed between kisses, the faint sighs that spill when his hands find somewhere new to caress. Everything slows because he slows it. He takes his time, like he refuses to let any detail slip by unnoticed.
It doesn’t feel like he’s simply undressing you.
It feels like he’s unveiling something sacred. Like every inch of you laid bare is a gift he’s longed for, and now that he has it, he won’t squander a second. His gaze drinks you in between every kiss, full of a softness that cradles the sharp edge of desire. His pupils blown wide, his lips pink and kiss-bitten, his breath shaky though he tries to steady it.
You’re cherished.
“Soobin,” you gasp, breath hitching as he pulls you effortlessly into his lap. His lips find the swell of your breast, as his hands caress you with tender precision — teasing. The soft drag of his tongue against your nipples pulls a shiver from deep within you.
“I’ll take you to bed, sweetheart,” — “Yes, please,”
His mouth meets yours again, slow and consuming, while his arms curl around you. Without breaking the kiss, he rises, lifting you as though you weigh nothing, as though carrying you is the most natural thing in the world. You don’t open your eyes. You don’t need to. Your hands stay laced behind his neck, your fingers threading through the soft hair at his nape. You surrender wholly, letting yourself be cradled in his care. His footsteps echo and then you feel it, the plush give of the mattress beneath you as he lowers you gently into the center of the bed. The sheets are cool against your back, but his gaze is molten, grounding you in a warmth no fabric could match.
“Soobin…” Your voice trembles, “I haven’t done this before.”
For a moment, his expression stills. Something softens even further in his eyes. His lips tilt into the faintest, sweetest smile before he leans down, planting a slow kiss on your lips.
“I’ll be gentle with you then,” he promises, voice so gentle it nearly breaks you apart. His forehead rests against yours as his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, his touch light as silk. “You don’t have to fear anything with me. We’ll go slow. You just tell me everything you want… everything you don’t.”
You gave him a smile, you reached up and kissed him. A simple peck. His eyes is open mid-kiss, like he couldn’t bear to miss a second of it. As though the feeling of your lips wasn’t enough, he wanted to see it too. “I trust you,” you whispered against his lips, “I do.”
You had never been blinded because of a smile before.
His lips press against your sternum, inching his way with slow pecks towards the plump skin of your breasts. And the second he finds your nipple, a sharp gasp leaves your throat as you feel his warm tongue caress the sensitive flesh. His hand moves to your navel, his palm lying flush to your abdomen as he holds you down to the mattress; continuing to glide his tongue over you. As Soobin lifts his lips from you momentarily, the chill of his saliva lingers on your breast, makes you softly squirm in his grasp.
He move to the other side of your body, slowly slowly repeating the process as he suckle at your hardened bud ever so gently. But this time, he use his teeth to bite the softest mark onto your nipple; the careful sting pulls your back into an arch. You whimper at the roughness, though it only lasts for a second, and as you process their actions, Soobin begins to trail down from your breasts, moving to the other one. His hands work, reaching down to caress your core which pulse between your thighs.
You try to control yourself as he went lower, to control your body, control the moans begging for release but the moment he place a kiss to your clit, the little control you have begins to slip. He starts gently, a kiss, a soft lick up your entrance, and gets back to give the most careful suckle at your clit. His gentle licks turn into passionate laps as he palce his tongue flat to your clit and allow the pressure of his muscle alone to spark up your spine.
You gasp at the feeling, your hands grip desperately onto the sheets by your sides.
With his hand still placed on your lower belly, Soobin outstretches his fingers towards his mouth latched onto your cunt. His thumb finds its place just above the hood of your clit, as he begin to add to the simulation causing your teeth to sink into your bottom lip. He swirl the wet skin, sucking, intervals of tender kisses in between as he feel you between his lips; as the squelching of his tongue against your soaked entracne takes over the silence of the night.
"You're being such a good girl for me," Soobin kisses the words onto you, "So fucking good." He use his freehand to pull your leg up and over his shoulder, your body willingly at his control. He lift his mouth from you only to place his lips inside of your thight, his fingers still simulating you even with the pause.
You can feel it brewing. The band threathening to snap at any moment. Your pleasure pleading for release as he return to lap at your cunt.
"S-Soobin," you gasp, "Wait, I-" your please turn into tight cries of desperation as they retrieve a smile from Soobin, who listens intently to you moaning his name.
"I know baby," he kisses your clit, his thumb giving you an experimental amount of pressure, "I know baby, you can cum on my tongue. I don't mind."
If it weren't for your orgasm now unleashing inside of you, you possibly would have laughed, but the only thing that comes out of you, among the essence leaking into Soobin's mouth, is the lewd noises breaching the shores of your pleasure. Your hips instinctively push into his mouth as it explodes.
Your legs twitch, faint tremors echoing long after the euphoria crests and slowly ebbs away. Your breath is uneven, your chest rising and falling in shallow pulls as your mind tries to fix itself again. The world feels distant, softened at the edges, but you feel him. You feel Soobin everywhere. You hardly register the trail of his lips scaling their way back up your body, delicate kisses pressed along your stomach, the hollow between your ribs, the curve of your collarbone; until his face hovers just above yours. His breath fans against your lips, warm and even, as though he’s been composed the entire time, despite the flush that paints the high of his cheekbones. And when you meet his eyes —
Adoration. That’s all there is. As though you hung the stars in his sky.
Your fingers, still faintly trembling, reach down to the waistband of his pants, a silent plea building in your chest to return the worship he’s lavished on you. But before you can so much as graze the fabric, his hand wraps gently around your wrist, and moves it away.
“Tonight is about you,” Soobin murmurs, voice low, coaxing you back into ease. A smile, soft and disarming, tugs at the corners of his lips as he dips forward to nuzzle the tip of his nose against yours. “Just think of it as my way to say sorry… for making the prettiest girl wait so long.” His fingers, those long, graceful ones you’ve become so attuned to, sweep gently through your hair, combing it back from your damp forehead as though you were something priceless. His thumb brushes the line of your temple before trailing down the curve of your jaw, feather-light.
You stare back at him, your gaze tender and unwavering, the reflection of your own adoration open across your features. Whatever he sees in your eyes makes something in his expression soften even further.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice dropping as he nestles closer to your side. Instinctively, you open your arms for him, and he slides into the space as though it were carved just for him, his head resting gently against your chest.
“Nothing,” you whisper truthfully, your fingers threading into his soft hair as you tilt your head to study him. Wonder flickers within you like the soft flicker of candlelight, igniting gently as you take in the way the dim glow plays in his irises — deep brown kissed with honey, shadows and softness blending as if the universe itself tried to paint the richest portrait inside his gaze. “You’re beautiful,”
The smile that spreads across his face is breathtaking. His lips curve in that boyish, gentle way that squeezes your heart painfully tight, and then he laughs. Your own smile spills out in response, and soon both your laughs mingle, weaving together in the space between you like spun gold, before your lips find each other’s once more.
You woke with the sunlight brushing gently across your skin, the warmth pooling on the sheets.
His breath is steady against the back of your neck, his chest rising and falling. His arm is still draped over your waist, fingers laced together just under your ribs as if even in sleep, he’s afraid to let go. Every time you shift, even slightly, his hold tightens; subconscious, instinctive. As though his body has decided on its own that you belong nowhere but here. You feel the ghost of his lips at the back of your head again, a soft, unthinking kiss pressed into your hair. And then that murmur that drifted from him throughout the night, something wordless and sweet, as though he was dreaming of you and couldn’t help but let it slip into the waking world.
You are exactly where you’re meant to be.
You blink slowly, everything is softened by the white sheets. Warmth surrounds you, not just from the sun filtering through the windows, but from the comforting weight draped over your back. You shift slowly, turning in his embrace until you’re met with the sight that makes your heart swell.
Choi Soobin.
Your fingertips ghost along the curve of his cheek, feather-light, afraid you might wake him if you touched him too boldly. His skin is soft beneath your hand, still asleep. His lashes rest delicately against his cheekbones, his lips parted slightly, breath deep and even.
“Sleepy Soobin,” you whisper, your thumb brushes along the slope of his cheekbone and, instinctively, he leans into your palm, nuzzling against your touch. The simple action sends a tender ache spiraling through your chest. Your mind drifts back, to the way his hands gripped you with both hunger and patience. To the way his lips worshiped every inch of you. To the way he had cradled you afterward, not letting a single shiver escape him unnoticed, whispering soft words against your skin.
Your eyes drink him in, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the tousled strands of dark hair falling across his forehead. You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses on the corner of his mouth. You linger there, breathing him in, letting your lips stay against him like a silent thank-you whispered straight from your heart.
“I don’t think,” you murmur softly against his skin, your lips curving in a smile, “I’ve ever been this happy before.” And as if he heard you even in sleep, his arm around your waist tightens, pulling you closer.
Your phone buzzes. You move quickly, fingers curling around the device as you move yourself out of Soobin’s arms. You sit on the edge of the bed, the cool air brushing against your skin. His shirt hangs loosely off your frame, the fabric soft and saturated with the faint scent of him. You tuck a hand into the hem absentmindedly as you answer. “Hello?” Your voice is hushed.
“Oh, hi. I just wanted to check in about your grandmother. She took her meds.” Hana’s voice comes softly from the other end, the caregiver you’d called last minute yesterday when you weren’t sure you’d make it home in time.
Relief unfurls gently in your chest. “Thank you, Hana,” you murmur, a small smile touching your lips. “I’ll be back in the afternoon.”
There’s a few more exchanged words, small reassurances and thank-yous, before you end the call. The screen dims in your hand, but you don’t move just yet. You glance over your shoulder. He hasn’t stirred, not really, but his brows are slightly furrowed now, as if he noticed the loss of you in his sleep. The sheets dip where you’d been moments ago, and one hand rests, palm open, where your body had once been.
A soft smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You want to crawl back to him already. But you know you can't.
Setting the phone down, your gaze drifted toward the bedside table. You remembered Soobin opening the drawer last night, tucking away both of your things. You needed your ponytail. You pulled the drawer open.
Your fingers falter for the the first thing you see. You hadn’t meant to intrude. Two large bottles, their labels slightly worn, tucked neatly in the corner of the drawer as if he’d kept them close, yet out of sight.
Sleeping pills.
Your lips press into a thin line as thoughts flicker behind your eyes — how gentle he’d been with you, how steady and warm his gaze had felt, how easily sleep had taken him last night in your arms. And yet… these. Did he take them every day? Your hand brushes over the edge, and finally, you spot your ponytail nestled beside his wristwatch.
You swallow gently, pushing the drawer close.
You hummed softly as you slid the fried eggs onto a white plate, the gentle sizzle fading as you set them down. This place is a wide, unfamiliar kitchen, but somehow your hands had found their routine effortlessly. Turning, you arranged the plate beside the crisp bacon and the golden slices of toasted, buttered bread.
Out of the corner of your eye, the bedroom door creaked open. "Good morning," you called, your voice laced with a smile that turned fully when you saw Soobin, no confusion in his sleepy gaze, no hesitation in his steps. He made a beeline straight to you.
Before you could even set down the last plate, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest with a soft exhale of relief. His lips found your hairline in a series of slow, affectionate kisses, "You didn’t have to make breakfast, baby. I could’ve called someone."
"I didn’t mind it," you replied, breathless with laughter as you tried halfheartedly to nudge him away. But he only shook his head, clutching you tighter, "Come on," you coaxed gently, tilting your head to meet his soft gaze. "Let’s eat."
At just those simple words, he loosened his hold, his hand sliding down to lace his fingers with yours.
“What is it?” Soobin asks softly, voice in curiosity as he chews his food. His eyes catching the question behind your gaze. “I did tell you… you can ask me anything, remember?”
You nod, your fork slowly tracing circles on the edge of your plate. “Yes…” You swallow, “I don’t mean to pry, I really don’t. I just… I just wanted to ask if you take those pills every day?”
He nods slowly. “I do,” he admits. “I’ve always had trouble sleeping.” Your lips part to speak, but before you can, he sets his fork down and leans in, elbows resting on the table as his hand slides gently over yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “But last night…” A faint smile curls the corner of his lips,“Last night, I didn’t even think about them. I didn’t need them.” His voice drops, “You were here.”
Sitting at that table, sharing breakfast, you felt like you were learning him in layers, like pages of a book gently unfolding for you. You already had your suspicions the moment you first met Soobin. The cut of his clothes, the sleek car he drove; they all whispered of a life far from ordinary. But hearing it from his lips, hearing him confess that he was set to inherit and run an entire empire, sent a quiet shiver up your spine. A chaebol. How had someone like you managed to cross paths, let alone hearts, with someone like him?
He spoke openly, though gently, about the burden he had carried since he was just a teenager. How sleep had long been a stranger to him. How those pills had been his quiet crutch in the endless swirl of expectations, decisions, and responsibilities that clouded his nights. You tried your best to absorb every word. Soobin told you how he had found you captivating from the very first moment he saw you — how, despite that, he never had the courage to approach you.
“All my life,” he murmured, gaze dropping to the untouched food on his plate, “I watched my sister become trapped in a marriage. Watching her lose herself made me believe I shouldn’t chase anyone… or anything. But then, I saw you.”
It was unclear why he trusted you so deeply, why he felt safe enough to share such memories about his sister’s pain and the misplaced guilt he carried on his shoulders. But he did. He let you in. The shadows in his expression melted the moment you leaned in, your lips pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to his and your arms curling gently around him. Maybe that was why. Maybe you were his perfect match. You were the one brave enough to ask him out first; unknowing then, but somehow sensing what held him back.
You learned more little things about him that morning too. How he often misplaced his watch because he’d take it off absentmindedly and forget where he’d set it. How he liked his coffee with an extra spoon of sugar and a generous pour of creamer, because despite everything, Soobin had a sweet tooth.
And somehow, every one of these small pieces only made you fall for him more.
“I can’t wait to get back and see you,” his voice comes gently through the phone, smooth and warm like a whisper against your ear. “Just three more days, and I’ll be back. Okay?”.
“Okay,” you breathe, your voice softer than you intend. “Just make sure you’re eating well, alright?” You swallow gently, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ll see you soon.”
His laugh drifts back to you, honey-sweet and effortless. You miss him already. “Okay, baby.”
And just like that, the line clicks silent.
You move quietly around your shop, fingers trailing along the shelves, straightening small displays here and there. You smile to yourself, a small, private thing, as memories of the past few days float to the surface. His touch. His laugh. Everything lately had felt… right. Almost effortlessly so.
The soft chime of the doorbell rings out, pulling you back to the present.
“Welcome,” you call, your gaze lifts and locks instantly with a pair of sharp, assessing eyes. A woman stands there, immaculately dressed, her age maybe in her fifties, though the confidence she wears makes her seem ageless somehow.
Her eyes sweep over you unblinking, as though weighing you against some invisible scale. “Are you the woman seeing my son?” A chill skips down your spine.
“Pack your things up,” she says crisply, her gaze drifting coolly over the small, carefully curated space of your shop. Her lips twitch, close enough to make your stomach twist. “Come have lunch with me.”
You blink, thrown off balance, your heartbeat picking up beneath your ribs. This… wasn’t what you’d expected today. “Uh—yes, ma’am,” you say, trying to gather yourself.
Her head tilts, something sharp glinting behind her expression. “Why did you stutter?” The question is too sharp for someone who doesn't know you. Before you can even try to answer, she lifts her hand in a small, dismissive gesture. “Go on. Change your clothes. Make it fast. I don’t like waiting.”
Your fingers twitch on your lap as you lower your gaze, lashes casting shadows over your cheeks. The seat beneath you feels too plush, too stiff all at once, as if you don’t quite belong in it. You’re somewhere deep inside this towering glass building — a restaurant so vast and pristine it feels like even your breath is too loud for the space. You try to inhale quietly, chest tight, as Soobin’s mother sits across from you, commanding the room with a presence that doesn’t falter.
You watched, silent, as she spoke crisply to the waiter. Her tone left no room for correction, no cracks for uncertainty to slip through. She didn’t ask what you’d like. She didn’t ask if salad was to your taste. She simply ordered it for you without sparing you a glance — as though she already knew what you should eat, or perhaps decided it didn’t matter.
The clink of glassware is sharp, and you jump slightly when she clears her throat. Slowly, reluctantly, you lift your eyes to meet hers. Her gaze is steady, dark and searching, the sort that makes you feel like you’re being turned inside out with just a look.
“What do you want—”
"Mother," a new voice drifts into the space; light, melodic. You turn instinctively, and there she stands: a woman so strikingly beautiful it’s impossible to mistake the relation. The soft curve of her jaw, the familiar gentle slope of her nose, she carries pieces of Soobin effortlessly in her features.
She moves toward the table with a grace that makes the heavy atmosphere ease, as though her very presence carries warmth where there was only frost before. Soobin’s mother’s stern face softens, her posture loosening subtly for the first time since you sat down and it’s clear this new woman holds sway over her in ways no one else has managed thus far.
The young woman settles beside her mother, her gaze drifting to you with a kindness that wraps around you like a soft blanket. No scrutiny, no sharp edges, it's curiosity. “I’m Soobin’s sister,” she says her name gently, her lips pulling into a smile that reaches her eyes. “You look even more beautiful than what he says.”
The sincerity in her voice disarms you. It feels like exhaling after holding your breath for too long, like finding a familiar light in a room full of shadows. Warm. Genuine.
“Th-thank you,” you murmur, voice small as your gaze drops shyly to your lap. The elegance she carries so effortlessly makes you acutely aware of every inch of yourself; of your softness, your simplicity. You steal a glance upward as she turns away, leaning toward her mother, her voice soft and fluid as she starts to recount her day.
Their hair, not a strand out of place, styled with a polish that speaks of salons you’ve never stepped foot in. The fine lines of their blouses, their tailored cuts, fabrics that drape as if stitched to their skin. Even their nails is perfectly shaped, coated in shades that gleam soft and subtle, unchipped. Their handbags resting beside them glint of understated luxury, the kind of leather that never creases, the kind of detail you notice only when you’ve never had it.
Your gaze falls to your skirt — the one you had sewn with patient hands from fabric you bargained for at the market’s edge. You’d chosen the material carefully, pieced it together with love, made it yours. But here… it feels smaller somehow. Less. You smooth your palms over your knees.
How long will you have to sit in moments like this? How long will you have to feel the weight of difference settle like a stone in your chest? The gap between their world and yours feels so wide it burns.
You don’t belong here.
You hadn’t even managed to lift your fork, “How old are you?” Soobin’s mother asked.
“Twenty-three,” you murmured, your tongue thick in your mouth. The number sounded too small as soon as it left you.
Her lips tugged downward. “Five years younger than him. Too young.” A pause, heavy. “Education status? What of your family?”
You swallowed hard. “I’m living with my grandmother.”
Her brow arched, unimpressed. “Since when?” — “Since I was a child.”
The air felt thinner now. You could feel your pulse in your throat, in your wrists, in the trembling tips of your fingers that curled tighter under the table. “Then how would you run a family if you don’t even have one?”
The sting behind your eyes burned fast. You blinked hard, but it did nothing to wash it away. You felt small, smaller than you ever thought you could shrink.
“Mother,” Soobin’s sister snapped, her voice tight with disbelief. You lifted your gaze to her, grateful and ashamed all at once. Her expression was shocked that her mother had gone that far.
But then the next blow landed. “Do you even know there’s a girl who’s supposed to marry him?” Her tone dropped, dripping with disdain as if she wanted to watch you crumble beneath it.
“Mom, stop it. Now.” Soobin’s sister, again. Firmer this time.
Your lips parted to answer — to say something, anything — but all that came out was fragile and thin. “We… we haven’t talked about it.” It was all you could manage. Your voice cracked just enough to make the shame crawl higher up your throat. Your chair scraped against the floor softly as you rose, every inch of your body stiff and burning. You forced a tight smile that felt more like a grimace. “Excuse me… I’ll just take the bathroom.”
Your legs carried you away before the first tear slipped free.
You gripped the sink’s edge so hard your knuckles ached, head bowed as silent sobs racked through your chest. You couldn’t catch your breath. Couldn’t hold it together long enough to even pretend you belonged here. Your reflection in the mirror blurred behind the sheen of tears; eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, lips trembling. Small. Out of place. A girl trying to fit in.
Of course she was right. You’d always known it, hadn’t you? You were someone born from absence. A child left behind by two people who couldn’t even stay for you, much less for each other. You’d spent so long tucking that truth away, convincing yourself. His mother didn’t have to scream to shatter you.
You wiped at your face uselessly, but the tears kept slipping, warm and bitter down your jaw. You didn’t want to ruin what Soobin had left with his mother, thin and cracked as it might be. You’d seen the strain in his eyes before when he spoke of her. You’d heard the weight when he talked about duty, legacy, responsibility; but you wouldn’t be the reason he chose sides. Maybe everything really had just been a dream. And maybe now…maybe it was time to wake up.
The door creaks open, and you flinch too late to hide the tears streaking your cheeks.
Soobin’s sister.
Her expression crumbles the second she sees you. “Oh, honey.” Her voice is soft, almost breaking, and before you can turn away or gather yourself, she’s already crossing the room. You shake your head, a weak protest caught in your throat, but it falls apart the second her arms wrap around you. You don’t mean to collapse, but you do. Your body folds into hers, trembling, your fingers clutching at the fabric of her coat.
“I’m so sorry,” she breathes against your temple, her voice rawer now, as if she can feel even a fraction of what’s tearing through you.
Your chest hurts. You can’t speak. You don’t trust your own voice not to shatter the second you try. So you just stand there, breathing uneven, tears soaking the front of her blouse.
“Don’t cry,” she whispers finally, pulling back, her palms warm against your damp cheeks. Her eyes search yours. Slowly, she slides a handkerchief from her pocket and presses it into your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she lets go. “My mother… she’s always been like this. I won’t tell you not to feel hurt, you should feel hurt. She doesn’t know how to soften her words, even when she should.”
“I came here because I heard she’d come after you the moment Soobin flew out for his trip,” she continues, “And about that woman… or whatever arrangement that was, Soobin never met her. Not even once. That was all our mother’s doing. If you want the truth, it’s best you hear it straight from him, hm?” Your fingers curl tighter around the handkerchief.
“I… I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice frayed at the edges, the apology slipping out even though you aren’t sure what you’re apologizing for— being here, being too small for this world, for falling for someone you were never supposed to have?
“Don’t be,” she says softly, her lips tugging into a smile. "You’ve done nothing wrong."
She reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “You can go home. I’ll handle her,” she promises. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t come near you again, not until Soobin gets back and sorts all of this out himself.”
Your throat tightens again, “Why?” The word falls out of you in a whisper. “Why are you doing all of this?”
“Soobin deserves to be happy,” she says, there's a glisten in her eyes. “And you… you make him happy.”
You sit still, hands folded tightly in your lap, nails pressing crescents into your skin as the hum of the engine vibrates beneath you. Through the window’s glass, blurred by your uneven breaths, you see them, Soobin’s sister and her husband.
Choi Beomgyu.
Even from here, even without sound, it’s clear. The way his eyes search hers, soft and intent. The way his hand brushes her cheek, tender and unhurried. And then, his palm drifts lower, resting on the curve of her stomach.
Your breath catches, an involuntary gasp escaping from your lips. You hadn’t noticed it before, maybe because you’d been too wrapped in your own thoughts, but there it is now; the small, rounded swell of her belly beneath her dress.
She’s pregnant.
Your eyes dart away. It sinks in heavier than you expect—the contrast of it. The weight of what you felt in that restaurant still gnawing at your ribs. You swallow hard, blinking fast. You shouldn’t be jealous. Not of them, not of their certainty, not of the way they fit together. You curl your fingers tighter.
Beomgyu slides into the driver’s seat, his eyes flicker to you in the rearview mirror, not invasive. “You okay?” His voice is gentle, low.
You swallow past the knot tightening in your throat. “Yes.”
He doesn’t press. He just nods once, slow, and leans back in his seat. His hands rest on the wheel but he doesn’t start the car. Instead, his eyes shift toward the building. You follow his line of sight and see her— his wife, walking toward the entrance.
Beomgyu stays still, waiting. His jaw flexes slightly, not out of impatience, but out of habit, you can tell. He doesn’t move, not until she disappears inside the building safely, not until the glass doors close behind her and she’s no longer in sight.
Only then does he release a small breath and turn the key in the ignition. The car starts.
You've never seen a love so whole.
You’d finally made peace with it all, to speak to Soobin when he returned. His sister’s promise had held true; his mother hadn’t darkened your doorstep again. For once, the silence felt like safety.
Only one more day. Just one, and he’d be back.
The sharp chime of the door snapped through the quiet. You turned instinctively, forcing a smile onto your lips out of habit.
Standing there was a woman. “Good morning,” you greeted softly, stepping behind the counter, trying to keep your hands steady.
“You’re Y/N, right?” Your stomach flipped, hands instantly cold. What is it this time?
“Yes,” you answered carefully, guarded. “How can I help you?”
She took a step closer, “I’m Aera,” she said smoothly, not a trace of hesitation. “Soon to be Soobin’s fiancée.”
Your breath stuttered. The smile fell clean from your lips. “I’m sorry… what—”
“His mother told me about you.” The words barely registered before the woman dropped to her knees in front of you. The motion was so sudden, so desperate, your breath caught in your throat and your eyes went wide.
“Please…” her voice cracked as she folded her hands together, her head bowed low in a way that looked almost unnatural for someone like her; pristine, polished, composed. But here she was. Crumbling. “Please tell him to accept the proposal.”
Your chest constricted painfully. “No, no, stand up, you don’t have to,”
But she shook her head sharply, her shoulders trembling. Tears clung to her lashes, heavy and raw. “I’ll let you have everything you want. You can still be with him .I don’t care. I’ll just marry him in name. I’ll stay in a different room. A different house, even. I won’t touch him. Our family… we need his. Please, I’m begging you.” Her voice broke entirely on that last word.
Even she knew. Even she understood what his mother refused to admit; his heart was already in your hands.
You walk to the building, each step echoing in your chest. The elevator hums softly as you press the button, your reflection in the mirrored doors a stranger to you. When it finally dings open, you step out into the hallway.
Your hand hovers over the doorbell of his home. You take a breath and press the button. And then you wait.
You run over the speeches you carved into your heart all day, I’m sorry, but we need to break up. I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore. But the moment the door opens, it all disintegrates.
He stands there, and for a split second, it’s as if everything stills. His eyes meet yours, rimmed with exhaustion so deep it settles into the lines of his face. “I’ve been waiting for you, sweetheart.” His voice is soft. Almost fragile.
And before you can think, before you can remember the careful goodbye you rehearsed a thousand times, he reaches for you.His fingers curl around your arms, and he pulls you into him. Into the chest that has always felt like home.
The door clicks shut behind you.
“Soobin, I—” Your voice barely breaks through the air before it’s swallowed by the heat of him; his lips finding the curve of your neck, hot and hurried, like a man starved. His body crowds yours effortlessly, the breadth of him making you feel small. His hands, large, trembling with restraint digs firmly on your waist.
“I fucking missed your voice,” he breathes against your skin, “I fucking missed you… I couldn’t even sleep.”
Your throat tightens, a lump clawing higher and higher as your heart caves in on itself. Coward. That’s what it feels like. Your heart, shrinking, curling away from what you came here to say. Because how could you speak of endings when he’s here, clinging to you like this? When he holds you like you were his last hope?
“I need you, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers slide to your blouse, undoing the buttons one by one, slower than his breath, slower than the pounding of your pulse against your ribs. His knuckles brush against your skin, “Did you miss me?”
You open your mouth. The truth swells painfully, desperate to tear out. I did. I missed you more than you’ll ever know. But all you manage is a breathless, broken, “I—”
His hot mouth sucks your nipple. “…Yes.”
It’s all a blur — his hands, his mouth, the way he whispered your name. You don’t remember how the clothes came off, how the sheets tangled beneath your bodies. You only remember the weight of him, the heat of his skin, and the soft drag of his lips along your body that made your breath catch.
The sharp stretch, the slow push of him sinking into you. Tears spill before you even realize they’re falling. It isn’t the pain that makes you cry. It’s the ache in your chest, the way your heart splits in two at the sight of him — Soobin, tired and unraveling, still so gentle. You were too scared to say no. Not because you didn’t want him, but because you did. Too much. You craved to erase the exhaustion from his eyes, even if it was only for one night.
Maybe you were fooling yourself into thinking you were giving something to him, when really, you were trying to steal one last piece of him for yourself.
His brow furrows as he stills inside you, the concern written all over his face. His thumbs swipe at your damp cheeks, his lips brushing against your skin in soft, frantic kisses. “Did that hurt? What’s wrong?”
You force a breath through the tightness in your throat, eyes locking on his, “No,” you manage to choke out, your voice cracking. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek, thumb brushing the soft curve of his under-eye, tracing the shadows you wish you could take away. You swallow the sob clawing at your chest, and say it. You have to say it. Even if it’s the last time.
“I— I just love you.” His lips part slightly at your confession. His breath stutters, and something raw flickers behind his gaze; wonder, disbelief. His whole body goes still as if those words rooted him to the earth. “I love you, Soobin.”
"I love you. I fucking love you."
Warm hands find your waist, circling you with a gentle pull, long fingers tracing slow, reverent patterns across your bare skin. A soft squeeze follows, then warm, featherlight kisses trail from your neck to your ear, each one taking time to settle on your skin. Your name slips from his lips, barely more than a breath, before he tucks himself closer, body melting into yours.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, “You’ve been asleep so long, I’m starting to miss you.”
You exhale a soft huff, but there’s no real protest in it. Just the lazy stretch of your arm as you roll toward him, pressing your face into the curve of his neck where he smells like him. Your voice comes out muffled. “Let’s stay like this for five more minutes.”
A smile ghosts against your temple. His hand slides to your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. “Okay,”
You finally peeled yourself from the bed, soft sheets still warm with sleep and the weight of him. He trailed after you, tall and shadowing your every move around the kitchen as the morning light spilled in. You couldn’t help it, your fingers found his constantly. On his wrist as he buttered toast, laced with his as you poured coffee, curled around his as you sat across from him at the table. And for the first time, you saw it clearly: the way Soobin’s cheeks flushed pink under the weight of your affection, his gaze flickering down, shy and boyish, every time you touched him like you couldn’t stop.
Now, he stands by the mirror, freshly showered, crisp shirt hugging broad shoulders, hair damp and curling just a little at the edges. You’re sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him. He wanted you to stay here, in his penthouse. Wanted you here waiting when he came home.
You rise when you see him fumble with his tie, long fingers struggling with the knot. “Let me,” you say softly. Your fingertips brush against his as you take over, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath his skin. He watches you, head tilted down, eyes steady and soft, drinking in every precise movement as you fold and tug the silk into place.
His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs. He leans in, scattering kisses across your face — your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips — each one light and full of that unshakable, boyish smile of his.
You walk him to the elevator, bare feet padding softly on the cool floor. He steps inside, glances back at you, and lifts his hand in a wave; a grin stretching wide, something childlike and unguarded lighting up his whole face.
All while everything was breaking your heart.
You moved quietly through his home. The morning hush wrapped around you like something delicate and suffocating all at once. You folded his clothes with shaking hands, smoothing out every crease, tucking each piece into its rightful place as if order could somehow soften what you were about to break.
His watch. You found it lying carelessly on the counter where he always forgot it. You fixed it gently onto the shelf beside his cufflinks and rings, aligning everything just so, because you knew he liked it neat, even if he never said it out loud. It was small, but you wanted to leave it perfect for him.
The kitchen was next. Your movements felt numb now, mechanical. You prepared everything the way he loved it: coffee beans ground just right, the sugar jar filled, the creamer where it belonged. You wrote it all down on a small scrap of paper; the exact way you made it for him, step by step and pressed the note beside the kettle. Your handwriting blurred through your tears, but you forced yourself to keep writing.
By the time you found a clean sheet of paper and sat at the dining table, your whole body trembled with the weight of it. The pen felt too heavy in your hand. Your tears hit the page before your words did.
You slowly, wrote your goodbye.
"Nana, this is your new room, okay?" Your voice is soft, careful not to crack as you push the door open, guiding her slowly inside. "It’s a little different, but we’ll figure it out. I’ll make sure we’re alright."
You smile, or something close to it, when she nods faintly, her eyes drifting over the unfamiliar space. The pale walls, the narrow window, the worn bed frame. None of it felt like home yet, but it had to be. You’d make it be.
Her fingers brushed against the edge of the dresser as she turned to you. "Why did we move so suddenly?"
You swallowed around the lump in your throat. "Oh," you answered lightly, "because we had to."
Your chest tightened when her gaze lingered on you a beat longer, as if peeling back layers you didn’t want exposed. And then, almost absently, she asked, "How about your man?"
You froze. The air seemed thinner, sharper. You weren’t even sure she remembered him clearly — just a distant echo of the day Soobin had shown up with that gentle smile, introducing himself with careful politeness.
"I… I broke up with him," you whispered. She didn’t react at first. Just nodded quietly, turning to sit on the edge of her bed. Her small frame curved gently as she smoothed the blanket beneath her hands, her movements slow and methodical.
You took a step back toward the doorway, trying to breathe steady. Trying not to crumble in front of her. But then, just as she rose again to cross the room, her voice drifted back to you. "Love will not fail," she murmured. "If it fails… it’s not love."
It was as if you’d just torn your own heart out with your bare hands.
Love will not fail. If it fails, it’s not love.
It had been days since you moved.
And still, no matter how many boxes you unpacked, no matter how carefully you folded your grandmother’s cardigans into drawers or wiped down every surface, this place didn’t breathe like the home you left behind.
The sky hadn't lightened once since you arrived. It hung heavy and bruised from dawn to dusk, a slate-colored weight pressing down on everything. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw sunlight crack through.
And then, the rain came.
You noticed it first in the shift of the wind. A few drops scattered across the concrete, and then it broke open all at once. Panic seized you as your mind jumped to the laundry. The sheets you’d washed them early this morning and hung them in the front of your lawn, hoping they'd dry before nightfall.
You bolted outside, breath shallow, feet slipping slightly against the wet pavement. Cold droplets clung to your hair, running down the line of your neck, soaking through your shoulders. Your fingers fumbled over the clothesline as you yanked the white sheets down frantically, heart racing as you tried to save what little you had.
And then — Your body stilled. Your hands slackened on the fabric as your gaze caught on a figure standing just past the fence.
For a moment, the rain softened around you, every sound falling away except the ragged beat of your own heart breaking all over again.
Choi Soobin’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles pale under the dim wash of the dashboard lights. His eyes flicked from one worn street sign to the next, cataloguing every turn, every corner, like a man tracing the edges of an old wound. Every so often, he let the car slow to a crawl. Stared a little too long at places that meant nothing to him, but might have meant everything to you.
It’s the town, the one his investigator pointed him to. The small, quiet town where the woman who tore through his world had disappeared into without a trace but with every piece of him still in her hands.
He’d already gone over everything twice. No. Three times. He couldn’t remember anymore. His chest felt tight, like something was sitting on it and daring him to breathe around the weight. He wondered if he should start all over tomorrow. Sweep the streets again. Retrace the steps he didn’t even know you'd taken.
Without meaning to, Soobin’s hands turned the wheel, guiding him down a road he’d circled too many times to count. Muscle memory, maybe. He didn’t know why he kept coming back.
The first drops of rain tapped against the windshield, soft and uncertain, like the sky hadn’t made up its mind yet. He let out a breath and dragged a hand down his face. He glanced right, thinking to turn back, to call it for the night. But then he saw it.
A figure cutting through the field, darting between rows of white laundry sheets billowing in the wind like ghosts.
He didn’t think. His door was open before he could catch the impulse, the car engine still on behind him as he bolted forward. He didn’t even shut the door. His feet hit the wet grass hard, slipping a little, but he kept running. Fast. Desperate. Like if he blinked, even for a heartbeat, you might vanish.
The way you vanished from his life when he turned his back.
If he’d stayed that day. If he’d ignored the meeting, called in sick, shut the world out, would you still be here now?
He saw you stumble back. Your shoulders tensed, then you turned to escape. And just like that, the breath punched out of his lungs. His heart cracked against his ribs, like thunder rolling too close to the ground. Panic clawed at his throat. His feet wouldn’t move fast enough. So he did the only thing left.
He called your name. Louder than he meant to. He shouted it. Frantic. You didn’t move at first. Just stared at him across the field, rain threading through your hair, clinging to your skin. When you spoke, your voice was sharp.
“Why are you here?” You asked, each word flung like stones across the space between you. Your jaw clenched. “Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I tell you I don’t want you anymore?”
Your voice cut clean but your hands betrayed you. They shook at your sides, fingers twitching like they weren’t sure whether to reach for him or push him away. The ache in your throat frayed the edge of every word. And Soobin saw it. He saw all of it.
Choi Soobin stares at you, the glisten in his eyes that you've come to know whispers his truth. He's now infront of you, eyes sweeping your face.
The storm isn’t just around him; it’s inside him, bleeding into the tremble of his hands as he reach and clutch your wrists, desperate. Rain seeps through his clothes, slides down his skin, but he doesn’t flinch. He just looks at you.
Because you're the only thing keeping him standing.
"Marry me." It’s his last attempt to keep you from walking away. “Marry me, and I’ll do anything you want. Anything. Just don’t—” His throat closed up, and for a second, it sounded like he forgot how to breathe. “Don’t walk away again.”
“I said—”
“Don’t lie to me!” The words snapped harder than he wanted, frustration cracking wide open in his chest. His hands curled into fists at his sides, not in anger but in helplessness. “Don’t make me feel crazy. Don’t make me feel stupid. My sister told me everything, Y/N. I know. I know everything.”
Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Your shoulders caved, the last of your defenses buckling under the weight of it all.
“I’m not fit for your world,” you choked, voice splintering as tears blurred your vision. Your hands fell limp at your sides, fingers tangled in the thin fabric of the laundry you’d long forgotten.
“I don’t have anything. I hardly even have myself,” you whispered, your face crumpling like it hurt to say the truth out loud. “And you — you deserve the world. You deserve more than someone who can’t even keep her life straight.”
Soobin’s chest hollowed at the sight of you crumbling in front of him. He didn’t care about the rain, or the mud soaking through his shoes, or the ache in his lungs. There was only one thing left he wanted to do. Fall to his knees if he had to. Beg, if that’s what it took. Beg for you. Beg for everything.
“I don’t want the world.” His eyes locked on yours, fierce and aching. “I never wanted any of that. Not once. I just… I just want you.”
His breath shuddered out, shaky, as if saying it hurt and healed him all at once. “I want to live with you. To grow old with you. To have your children. To wake up next to you for the rest of my life.” His words stumbled, his throat thick with the burn of unshed tears, but he didn’t stop.
Before you could slip farther away, Soobin reached for you, his arms wrapped tight around you, pulling you into his chest. His hand cradled the back of your head, fingers threading into your damp hair with a gentleness that almost broke you on the spot. His heartbeat thundered against your cheek.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, voice cracking on the plea. “Please, baby. Not when I finally found you. Not when all I want… is to spend the rest of my life with you.”
He felt you shift in his hold, felt your hands press against his chest like you were about to push him away. His stomach dropped but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.
“I love you.” The words came out hoarse, frayed at the edges. Honest in a way that stripped him bare. He felt you still. The tension in your shoulders faltered. Slowly, slowly, you softened against him, all the walls you’d been gripping so tightly started to crumble in his arms.
You stopped pulling away this time.
“I love you,” he breathed again. His lips brushed against your temple, “I’ll fix everything for us. I swear it. You just have to trust me, baby. Please. Just trust me.”
He felt your arms loosen, the fight in them dissolving. Softening, giving your surrender — just as the rain itself began to ease, falling gentler, as though the sky had finally tired too. A breath punched out of his chest, relief so fierce it almost dropped him to his knees. His arms closed tighter around you, cradling you against him like he could tuck you safely inside his ribs, where nothing could ever reach you again.
When would he ever get a moment like this again?
A chance like this? To meet his soulmate. To meet the one person who could read the shadows behind his smile before he even noticed they were there. Who knew him better than he had ever dared to know himself.
What were the odds? If he hadn’t driven down that street that day. If he hadn’t wandered into your little flower shop with its peeling paint and sunlight pooling across wooden counters. If he hadn’t looked up and seen you and not known, right then, that he’d nearly lived his life without finding his missing half. And what were the chances you would’ve seen him?
He shuddered, blinking hard against the burn behind his eyes. His throat tightened as he breathed you in, the faint trace of wildflowers still clinging to your skin like memory. His heart clenched.
The odds of this… of you… out of all the people, all the cities, all the winding chances and missed timings, was one in a million.
Manacled Hands, Shared Sins || Choi Soobin
Chapter One: You, of All People
It always begins with a closed door and Choi Soobin waiting on the other side of it.
story ml .☘︎ ݁˖ next chapter
⊹ wc .ᐟ 11.9k
pairing: ravenclaw!choi soobin x slytherin!fem!reader
tags and warnings: hogwarts au, aged up characters and college setting, except for the first part of this chapter - the entirety is written in flashbacks, strangers to... something (they're working on it), slow burn and i mean slow, soobin is not as put together as advertised, morally grey reader, mutual "i don't trust you but i'll make an exception", brief mention of blood (nosebleed), loss of consciousness [probably missed some]
yun's ☕: idk what was happening to me back when i started writing MHSS but damn the self-projection is deadly with this one. @nanilis ily for beta reading and saving my eyes <33
Reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!
© filmsbyun ── please do not copy, translate, or repost my work without permission.
Tonight, everything had the chance to change.
After a failed heist of the Marauder's Map from the caretaker's office, you were compelled to take an improvised detour — which was the last thing you had hoped for.
It was supposed to be a perfectly executed infiltration. You had spent the better part of a fortnight mapping the caretaker's patrol schedule down to the minute and accounting for every variable that a poorly lit, dust-choked administrative office could throw at a pair of reasonably competent students. The Map was to be acquired swiftly before anyone even realized something was missing. It should have gone without a hitch.
But then Choi Yeonjun, in all his catastrophic recklessness, knocked over a lamp with the crook of his elbow.
There was no time to think, let alone breathe. The fast approaching footsteps of the caretaker and his cat reverberated into your bones. You spun on your heel and fixed Yeonjun with one murderous look, one that said you’d personally transfigure his organs the next time you see him, and then darted into the hidden passage behind the filing cabinet. You didn't need to tell him where to go — he knew. The two of you split, vanishing into separate secret tunnels that curved and burrowed beneath the castle like veins.
It was a manoeuvre lifted straight from the oldest pages of tactical withdrawal — splinter the team to fracture pursuit. Force the enemy to divide their attention across two corridors and lose precious seconds making up their minds.
You ducked beneath low beams, boots scraping against damp, uneven stone, and emerged somewhere near the third-floor Charms corridor. It was dead silent. You took a moment to press your palm flat against the wall, steadying your breath; your free hand curled into a fist at your side.
You felt the irritation that had been building since the moment of Yeonjun's mishap now fully bloom in your bloodstream. You hated disruptions to your perfectly constructed plans. More so if the plan promised you nothing but the desired result in your desired way. You despised the unpredictability of someone else’s incompetence.
The map should’ve been yours tonight. You could’ve had one of the greatest magical tools in your very hands if Choi fucking Yeonjun didn’t fuck up.
Hexing him in your mind wasn’t enough. You needed to see him writhe and squirm and regret every breath he took from the moment he decided to knock over that damned lamp. You wouldn’t stop until he begged. Until the arsenal of curses in your vocabulary bled dry.
Tonight, everything had the chance to change.
You didn’t know what it exactly was, but suddenly, you felt uncomfortable inside. If your senses weren’t keen, you would’ve almost missed it. The air in the corridor was uncharacteristically colder, a dip so slight it could’ve been passed off as a draft. Especially during this time of the year considering summer was fast approaching. Your eyes narrowed as you stared ahead.
Every practical thought you possessed told you to turn back. It was not safe to stay outside now, considering the caretaker was well aware someone is breaching the curfew hours. You should have taken the route back to the Slytherin dormitory the moment you reached the junction. You should have doubled back without a second thought.
Instead, you found yourself walking toward the far end of the corridor. It was as if a vicious voice in your mind telling you to see what you could find in there. You stood in front of the door, now feeling the chill biting into your skin through your robes.
Turn around. Leave.
Magic tainted the air and the darkness that surrounded you, but it was almost foul. It reeked of something utterly bestial.
Just before your hand gripped the doorknob, you paused. You stared at it, eyes slightly narrowed and one single thought planted itself in your mind: what was the point of going in? There was no logic to this and definitely no reward waiting on the other side. You didn't even know what was behind that door. If you had the map, perhaps you would’ve had some semblance of direction. Instead, all you had was this knot of frustration curdling in your stomach and a bitter aftertaste crawling up your throat reminding you of your failed heist.
Out of spite, your hand twisted the knob.
Locked.
Your head tilted slightly. There was a strange tension that clung to your palm the moment you touched the brass. Magically sealed.
Colloportus, probably.
Which meant someone was inside. Now that tickled your curiosity.
"How useless," you muttered under your breath, stepping back half a pace and drawing your wand. "Alohomora."
The enchantment peeled away with a faint metallic creak. The door opened, spilling cold, stale air into the corridor like breath from a tomb. You gripped your wand tighter as you stepped through, the point barely alight and casting only a faint glow that brushed the floor ahead of you.
The door shut softly behind you, muffling the corridor into nothing.
You didn't know what you were expecting. An unused room with dust-slicked furniture, perhaps. Rows of forgotten bookshelves or peeling chalkboards — the hollowed-out remains of a classroom that had stopped serving a purpose sometime in the last century. At worst, a Gryffindor huddled over some misguided prank, ready to bolt at the sight of whoever crossed them. Anything, really.
Tonight, everything was going to change.
Anything but him.
You could've sworn your heart stopped beating for a moment. The hand holding your wand dropped slowly to your side as your eyes adjusted to the dark — hoping you were seeing things.
A rift in space, like a violent slash torn through the space itself. The air around it warped, sucked inward and shuddered back out as though the room was caught in a perpetual gasp. Blackness spilled out from it in slow drips, thick tendrils that stretched and recoiled and disappeared, only to return seconds later. The edges shimmered faintly like oil catching low light.
And standing before it, back to you, head tilted upward like he was staring into the maw of a god, was —
"Soobin?"
His name left you before you could stop it, punched out of your chest on a breath of bewildered recognition.
Choi Soobin flinched like you’d hexed him.
He turned sharply, and his eyes found yours — wide and trembling. There was a pale sheen across his forehead and a terror in his expression that had nothing to do with being caught and everything to do with what stood — what moved behind him.
You took a step back without meaning to, wand lifting a fraction higher. Everything was supposed to change tonight but not like this. You were never supposed to find him, let alone come near him.
It had been a year already without exchanging more than what the corridors and shared classes required — brief flickers of coincidental glances, not even nods. It was meant to stay that way until you took your last breath, until you could forget what he’d asked of you with those eyes, what you gave in return without ever saying yes. But here you were, standing just a reach away from him — again.
“Soobin… what are you doing?”
A little over one summer ago, your world unexpectedly collided with Choi Soobin.
You had always steered clear of situations that never concerned you. It wasn't indifference, but rather a necessity. It was a rule you clung to with a desperation only survival breeds.
From the moment you were sorted into Slytherin, your name had carried a shadow that wasn't yours to carry. Everyone had already decided who you were before you had a chance to be anyone, and no amount of evidence to the contrary was ever going to change that.
Even the smallest act of goodwill from you was met with suspicion, as if it were part of a larger scheme. You still remembered second year — offering to help a Hufflepuff with a stack of books and watching them recoil from you like you'd levelled a wand at them. You'd stood there thinking, what would a twelve-year-old possibly do? In group projects, Slytherins were the ones nobody wanted to be paired with. In duels, you were expected to go too far, and so you held back until it was dangerous to do so.
The unfairness you faced didn’t soften with time. It calcified — hardened into something dense and cold in your chest, a rage so constant it had long since settled inside you like second skin. You learned fast that there was no benefit in trying to prove yourself otherwise. No matter what you did, your actions would always be dissected under the same poisoned lens. Therefore, you began to adapt.
You put on the mask they gave you and wore it better than anyone had expected you to. If the world was going to be frightened of you either way, you'd at least make sure they had a reason to be scared of.
You developed a habit to always make sure you’re the one in control. People called it power-hunger and never once considered that power, for you, had never been about wanting more — it was about making sure no one could take what little you already had. In this twisted, prejudiced system that you’ve come to resent so thoroughly, so deeply, you had to make sure you played the game cunningly.
The only power you craved was the kind that let you live without compromise.
And maybe that was why people like Choi Soobin made no sense to you.
You had always watched him from a distance for years; it had never been out of envy, rather as a way to study the architecture of privilege.
He existed on the opposite end of everything — where people assumed the best instead of the worst. Head Boy. Top of his class. House of blue and bronze. Teachers adored him, students respected him, and nobody ever thought to question why, because people like Soobin didn't require justification. He had never needed to prove he was good; people had simply decided that he was, the same way they had decided things about you, except in his case the decision was golden. The golden standard whose light could not be touched by shadows.
His record gleamed with achievements, badges, merits, and praise. His uniform never bore a crease, his hair always neatly styled, and his dimpled smile which was entirely too charming. It was only natural then, that you saw him as one might look upon an altar, some polished figure placed far above your reach.
He always looked so unbreakable.
Until that summer of your junior year, when you pushed open an unused storage room on the outskirts of the castle and found him hiding in the dark with tears running down his cheeks. And just like that, everything you thought you knew began to dissipate.
The summer sun flared behind you, casting a wide spill of golden light across the dusty floor — stopping just short of where he sat crumpled in the shadows. That spill of light caught his face, and for the first time in all the years you had watched him, you saw Choi Soobin come entirely apart.
He was on the ground with his knees pulled to his chest, shoulders trembling as though whatever composure he usually clung to had slipped completely from his grasp. His face was flushed and puffy, neat hair gone askew, and those lips — bitten and swollen — looked like he’d tried to hold the sobs in until it hurt.
Your eyes widened mirroring his, and that extremely fragile moment hung between you — your breath caught in your throat and his faltering somewhere in his chest.
The tear tracks glistening on his cheeks ought to have made your stomach twist with empathy. But that sight of him — this pathetic, crumpled version of Choi Soobin — sent a rush through your bloodstream so dizzying and euphoric you almost didn’t recognise it.
It gave you a thrill you had no right to feel, a bitter sort of satisfaction rooted not in cruelty but in the cruel symmetry of it all. Because right in front of you was Choi Soobin with a crack in his polished shell. How lucky were you to catch it? Alone, and by sheer accident?
A strangled sound left his throat as he stumbled upright, hands fumbling for the wall behind him to steady himself. One arm reached out towards you as though bridging the space might undo what had just occurred.
"Why are you here—no, it doesn’t matter. You—!"
Your heart kicked to your stomach because of what his words meant. He was going to plead. You could see it forming in his panicked eyes as he was reaching out from the shadows, towards you who stood at the threshold in the light.
It was ironic, almost cruelly so. All this time, you had been the one consigned to the periphery — the one forced into shadows while he basked under everyone’s approval. And now here he was, cornered and desperate in the dark, with you holding the door. That image tipped something in the balance of your thoughts.
"Please," he rasped, voice hoarse and shaky. "Don’t tell anyone. You didn’t see this. Alright? You didn’t see me. Please."
Because even as your mind raced through the possibilities this encounter had suddenly opened, a low, grim voice inside your head reminded you that this was someone breaking. You weren't supposed to feel satisfaction watching it happen. It came with an edge of shame, twisting itself around your ribs. You had never been cruel. That had always been the distinction you held onto, the line between wearing the mask and becoming it.
But the balance of power had always been something you fought to claim. This was power handed to you freely, through the very act of witnessing, and now that it laid squarely in your hands — you couldn't pretend you didn't want to close your fist around it.
Choi Soobin had no clue what you might do with this power — and that, more than anything, was what was making him panic.
He said it again, almost tripping over the repetition, each plea more frantic than the last. And oh, the way your heart picked up with each of his pleas. His tone was splintered with desperation, barely stitched together by what little dignity he had left to himself. He sounded as if the very idea of you walking away with this memory was what terrified him rather than being found in this state by anyone else.
You recoiled at the sensation. As much as that part of you that still remembered the sting of loneliness wanted to offer him mercy, the part that had learned to survive by staying three steps ahead… it could already see the leverage hanging between you.
Golden, rule-bound, Head Boy Soobin, asking for your silence.
If he didn’t want this moment to exist, then you held the power to erase it — or hold it like a noose. You wondered, idly, what it would feel like to have him caught in your palm. What might he give for your silence? What could you make of that control if you truly chose to keep it?
"Why?" you asked, your tone cutting through the tense air. "What’s in it for me?"
Soobin froze, eyes widening — clearly taken aback by the question. His mouth parted, searching — no, scrambling for something, anything to say in return. But after a few seconds, he came up empty and his gaze flickered to the floor. The apparent defeated breath which slipped past his trembling lips ruefully had you claiming your victory.
But you should have known better than to think you could seize up a Ravenclaw like him so easily.
You watched the change wash over him like it was a spell. He straightened up fully, the trembling in his frame gradually overridden by something colder and more composed as if remembering the role he was supposed to play. There it was again — that mask, pulled neatly back into place. Only this time, you knew precisely how thin it was, and exactly where it cracked.
"Forget it," he bit out, though his voice cracked slightly around the syllables, betraying the rush with which he reclaimed control. "Just go. If you've got what you wanted, then go on—walk out. It won’t matter either way, will it?"
You blinked once, your brows twitching in a surprise that bled gradually into caution. There was a particular quality to the way he said it, an edge that felt as though it had been honed under pressure. It was meant to cut.
With two long strides, his frame came close enough but still maintained a safe distance. He towered above you in height, his shoulder sat well above yours, and you took in the way that if you had stood a little more close to him — his lips would have easily brushed your forehead if he so much as leaned in. Your chin stayed leveled regardless. Your feet didn’t budge.
"No one's going to believe you anyway."
But the meaning behind the words struck harder than you anticipated. You’d heard that before too many times, from too many people, in too many forms. The implication that your voice carried less validity by virtue simply because of the house you’d been sorted into. It was like he’d plucked it directly from the mouth of every person who'd instinctively blamed the emerald green and silvers for bruised egos.
He meant it as a bluff, a wall of indifference to hide the very real fear he’d shown before. You understood the mechanics of it perfectly. That didn't stop the words from scraping across old wounds, and the sting made your fingers twitch.
The breath that snagged in your throat left as a scoff. You've played this game far too many times to lose your footing over borrowed cruelty. You let that fact show in the slow curl of your mouth as you held his gaze, allowing your expression to settle into the particular brand of composure that tended to unnerve people more than open hostility ever could.
"Are you sure about that, Head Boy?" His title left your lips like a mock coronation stripped bare. "Because not long ago, you looked frightened out of your skin over what I might do—after seeing you like this. Doesn't seem like such a throwaway moment now, does it?"
You stepped forward slowly, one foot after another, until barely an arm's length remained between you. Soobin didn’t move but his throat bobbed with a swallow, and your gaze stayed level with his without flinching.
"If you’re confident," you said, voice low and laced with the barest edge of challenge, "then say it again. Tell me to leave, to walk out of here bearing witness to your pitiful state, trusting that blind hope of yours that I'll just let it all vanish." You let the pause breathe. "Go on, Soobin. Tell me."
There were too many thoughts flickering behind those tired eyes, which was a contrast to how motionless he stood. Every inch of his tall frame was taut with conflict. Lethargically, he dragged a hand across his face; fingers pressed hard into his brow, then down over the curve of his cheek. The exhaustion didn’t leave with them.
"What do you want?" he asked, finally.
This was him giving in — not to you personally, but to the situation, which was almost more satisfying. Because now you get to decide the terms of how this arrangement will proceed. You took a genuine moment to consider what you actually wanted out of this.
You held no personal vendetta against him nor do you want to hurt him. You never wanted to hurt him in the first place, only sought to solidify the leverage he himself presented in front of you. Having the Head Boy tethered to you, even by circumstance, might one day tip the scales in your favour. And right now, with the evening already thoroughly derailed, you were not above playing the long game.
Your gaze dropped briefly to the scuffed floor beneath your shoes, your expression settling into mild, almost disinterested contemplation while your mind moved through the possibilities at full speed. After a few moments, the faintest semblance of a smile appeared on your lips.
"Hmm. I’ll think about it." — A side tilt of your head as your eyes narrowed with mirth. "Until then, our hands are manacled."
Your smile had barely faded, the echo of your words still hanging in the air —
"Until then, our hands are manacled."
— when you made the turn, prepared to let him go, to leave the silence to do whatever it needed to do with him. You had no intention of dragging it further, no desire to bruise what dignity he still had left to himself — but only to mark the moment and walk away with the upper hand. But before your foot could land into a full stride, his fingers closed around your wrist.
They weren't rough, but they held with enough insistence to stop you dead. Your head turned sharply. He was looking at you but there were no traces of that frantic panic from earlier. In its place was a kind of stillness that unsettled you. The flush had drained entirely from his face, leaving behind a pallor that did not suit him at all, and his breath came shallower than it should have for someone simply standing still.
"I don’t like to be in anyone’s debt." There was nothing weak about what he said. “So whatever it is you want—name it. Just say it, and you’ll have it. Then we’ll be done.”
You blinked at him, momentarily caught off-guard by the vehemence still left in his voice after everything. You weren't sure what surprised you more — that he still had it in him to bark terms at you, or that he genuinely believed this was a transaction that could be finalised and forgotten on the spot. Your eyes flicked to the point of contact between you — your hand, small in his — and you gave it the faintest twist, more a signal than a struggle.
"Let go," you muttered.
He did, marginally, and before you could wrench your hand back fully — your gaze caught on a detail that hadn’t been there seconds ago. A stark red line had begun its descent from his nose toward the curve of his lip. You blinked once, processing it.
"Soo—"
His name broke apart in your mouth as his eyes lost their focus all at once and his jaw slackened. His frame swayed alarmingly, head tilting forward but he looked at you mustering all of his might one last time.
“Please,” he managed to breathlessly croak out.
The grip around your wrist, which had already gone loose tightened just once, a brief flare of strength as if trying to hold onto something, anything. In a heartbeat, his knees buckled and the full weight of him collapsed forward.
Soobin woke with a start, lungs dragging in air that felt stale and far too cold against his damp skin. His chest heaved once before he shot up onto his elbows, eyes darting around with a vague urgency because he couldn’t really piece together where he was. The dimness of the room pressed in on him, shadows stretching long across the stone floor, and it was only when he caught sight of the small rectangular window near the ceiling — its glass tinged with the bruised hues of dusk — that it clicked into place.
He was still in the storage room. The sun had gone down. How long had he been unconscious this time?
He shifted slightly and registered, with some confusion, that something soft had been folded beneath his head. It was a robe, folded neatly like a makeshift pillow. His own robe had been draped over him and had since slipped down onto his lap when he sat up. His brows pulled together, and he was still working out what to make of it when a voice reached him from across the room and made him flinch.
"You're up?"
His gaze snapped over. You were sitting against the opposite wall with your legs stretched out in front of you. There was nothing pointed about your tone, nor any warmth either. At a loss, Soobin turned his head to take in the room again, but the movement sent a sharp throb blooming behind his temples and he winced.
"Don't move around too much," you said, already uncrossing your arms and pushing yourself to your feet. "You passed out from exhaustion."
You crossed the room in even strides and crouched down beside him — not close enough to crowd him, but near enough that he could make out the faint sheen at your collarbone, likely from the stress of the situation rather than the season itself. You held his glasses out toward him, extended in one hand. His eyes tracked the motion before narrowing.
"Why are you still here?" he asked, his voice roughened by wear. He took the glasses back warily.
You rolled your eyes with a sardonic tilt to your brow. "Surely you weren't expecting me to lug you up to the Hospital Wing, were you?" The dry slant in your voice was pointed, and your eyes flicked once to the considerable length of his frame, making your meaning perfectly clear without another word.
He had the decency to look mildly abashed.
"I nicked a few healing potions," you added, producing a small vial from your pocket and turning it over between your fingers. "Didn't use a Reviving Spell because you looked too comfortable knocked out cold."
Soobin blinked at you, his frown deepening as he shook his head faintly, strands of hair falling across his forehead with the motion. "No, that's not what I meant. I meant—" he faltered, eyes narrowing with more focus this time, "—why didn't you leave?"
You stilled, the potion vial cooling against your palm. You looked at him squarely then, and a soft sigh pushed out from your chest. Truth to be told, the answer was pretty simple but, at the same time, was too tangled to unpack in full. Your gaze fell away for a moment, tracing the dull lines of the stone floor, before you offered the vial to him.
"Why were you crying?"
The question came out low but not tentative as you already knew the answer, had pieced it together from the moment you'd walked through the door. You were simply daring him to put it into words himself.
He didn't take the vial. He didn't answer either. His eyes dropped instead to his fists, now limp against his lap, and he stared at them for a stretched moment before murmuring, "I thought I said I don't like to be in anyone's debt."
A short laugh left you, soft and lacking any real bite, though it made him glance up with mild surprise. It was clear then that he hadn’t expected that reaction. You, on the other hand, were beginning to see him with a great deal more accuracy with every passing minute.
The perfect version of Choi Soobin in your mind had long since shattered. And now, watching him frown down at his own hands with a grievance he couldn't quite direct anywhere, you could finally admit that he was no different from you in the ways that mattered.
You gave the vial a small shake and dropped it into his lap, where he fumbled to catch it.
"You won't be in my debt," you said, and got to your feet without waiting to see whether he drank it or not.
Soobin's fingers tightened around the vial, his knuckles paling slightly as his eyes lifted to follow you. The guardedness in his expression was no longer openly confrontational but present nonetheless.
"For what?" he asked, the rasp still clinging to the edge of his voice. "For your silence? Or the fact that you helped me?"
You paused mid-step, then turned just enough to glance down at him. The rigidity hadn’t left his posture, and you could see the way he was still watching you like he expected the other shoe to drop. How recognisable that looked to the way you’d spent your life. It almost felt like staring at a mirror.
You couldn't fault him for it.
"You’re still on guard," you observed without accusing. You turned your gaze back to the opposite wall as you spoke. "Can’t blame you. I’d be, too."
Soobin chose not to say anything. He didn’t know what he could even say to that. Everything you said and did sat at odds with everything you were supposed to be.
"You asked what was in it for you. So how do I—why should I—trust that you’re not just doing all this because it benefits you somehow?"
An almost excellent argument. Your attention drifted to the dim slit of the window, where the last strips of daylight were thinning out against the castle wall. You took that moment to choose your words.
"You've every right to be cautious," you murmured, confessing it more to yourself than him, "I might've wanted a transaction earlier. I'd be stupid not to. But I'm not heartless. I couldn't walk out and leave you there, knowing full well I could help."
The doubt hadn't left his face entirely, though it had receded. Perhaps that was why the next words came out of you as readily as they did.
"I'm not what they make me out to be," you said. "Most times, I'm not even close. And you of all people should know what that's like, shouldn't you?"
His brows drew together at that, the crease between them deepening by a fraction. You knew he caught the implication.
"People see what they want, right? They call you perfect because it suits them. Just like they look at me and see trouble. A Slytherin must be scheming. I’m used to being doubted. But you—" Your voice softened just a notch, “you get doubted for the opposite. No room to slip up because you’re the one everyone bets on."
"You don’t know anything about me," he muttered, gaze dropping away from yours.
"I could say the same," you replied without hesitation. "Besides, I’ve seen plenty already."
You watched the storm gather behind his eyes again, but it wasn’t the same as before. There was less bite in it, more weariness. With a sigh, you stepped closer and crouched beside him again, plucking the vial from where it had sat unopened in his hand.
"Drink it," you said, holding it up in front of him. "You're still half out of it, and it's getting late. They're probably already wondering where you are."
He took it with a reluctance that was more reflex than genuine resistance, tipping it back and swallowing, his throat working through the bitter draught. You waited, arms draped loosely across your knees. When he lowered the vial and drew the back of his hand across his mouth, you didn’t bother sugar-coating the next question.
"Why don't you want people to see you like this?"
He didn’t look at you, just stared down at his hands. With the way the silence was persisting, you figured you wouldn’t be getting any more answers out of him. So you were prepared to leave it at that, that is until, he softly spoke.
"My worth only matters if I come out on top."
Your head tilted, just slightly. The pieces had been falling into place from the moment you found him, but now they were slotting in too perfectly. You matched his silence afterwards.
There wasn’t much point in keeping him leashed by some hollow agreement. He was just as misjudged as you were.
"Look, I know trust isn't a word people use around Slytherins," you said, and there was no apology in it, “I’m not asking for that. But if it's fairness you want, then here's my offer—you agree to help me out when I ask, and in return, I keep this between us. That’s it. Just an even trade."
You watched him closely as he processed it. He was looking for the catch, which was reasonable. Maybe you should’ve been more idealistic and more kind-hearted, but that wasn’t how you’d learnt to survive. Still, you hoped he'd say yes — but not only for the practical advantage of it. Because a yes would mean he'd begun to see past the emblem stitched onto your robes.
Even then, deep down, you knew better than to let your guard down. In your world, trust was a currency far more dangerous than gold, and if he ever turned on you, you’d have to do what you always did: survive.
“Alright.”
Soobin couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept properly. His days began far too early, long before the rest of the castle had stirred, trudging into duties that he never had the heart to refuse. The badge pinned to his robes caught the sunlight just right, glinting with every step, as though reminding him of what was expected. He ticked every box, filled every space that others left behind. It was never sufficient to simply do well; he had to do more. He had to be more.
By the time evening fell, he had already run himself to the bone. His nights were riddled with broken naps, eyes shut only to be wrenched back open by the persistent tug of responsibility. More often than not he caught the sunrise from the dormitory window — bleary, still in yesterday's uniform, blanket kicked to the floor at some point in the small hours. And yet every morning, he would rise and reapply the polished version of himself that the world had come to rely on. He’d pull that mask on with both hands — the one that made people proud, made them believe he had it entirely under control, that covered the parts of him nobody had ever thought to ask about.
He hadn’t even realised, until recently, just how long he’d been wearing it. It had grown into his face like a second skin.
He told himself that the pursuit of excellence was a personal ambition, chosen freely, belonging entirely to him. But if he peeled back the layers and looked the truth in the eye, he knew it wasn’t that simple. Since childhood, affection and approval had come tethered to achievement. A strong grade earned warmth. A trophy earned applause. An honour badge earned a hand on the shoulder and a look that said, there he is, exactly as expected.
It didn’t take long for the boy to understand: his value was conditional and was tied directly to success. To survive was to adapt — he became whatever was needed of him. The alternative had always felt too much like a risk he couldn't calculate the cost of. Every morning he told himself again and again and again — this is for me. But behind the mask and skin, Soobin was already rotting.
The real him — the tired, fallible boy that existed beneath the accolades had long been buried beneath a veneer of perfection polished so thoroughly that even he struggled to remember what lived underneath. It wasn't that he wanted to deceive anyone, but the thought of the image slipping, even by a fraction, left a cold dread crouched at the base of his skull.
If he stopped running, if he faltered even once, would he still matter? Would the respect hold? Each day they asked more of him — more excellence, more responsibility, more poise and each day Soobin gave it, all of it, right down to the last reserve. He kept giving until he had nothing left, and still, the asking never ceased.
No one had ever managed to break through the mask he wore and all the rotten parts of him had been left untouched. Until you appeared with a sledgehammer and hit it square on his face, cracking the mask in one go.
You, who were supposed to be a stranger.
Soobin hadn't known what to make of you. He knew your name, of course — you had walked the same corridors for years, sat in the same examination halls, existed within the same world but it had never collided. He had always been far too consumed with the ideology of perfecting himself to stop and consider the people around him. You, on the other hand, seemed untouched by that particular strain of madness.
He assumed you preferred your own company, someone who kept to the shadows by choice. He’d never paused to wonder what you might be like beyond the stories told in between whispers and beyond the lines he’d drawn in his head. Now, in the wake of a single moment that had slipped past control, you were there, woven into the edges of every thought. You had seen a part of him that he hadn’t even let himself look at for too long. And Soobin, for all his cleverness, didn’t know how to untangle that without losing hold of the rest.
“Soobin?”
The voice cut clean through his thoughts and pulled him back into the corridor with an abruptness that left him momentarily disoriented. He turned toward the Ravenclaw prefect standing beside him with an expectant look. Oh, right. They were in the middle of an inspection.
A lost artefact, supposedly one of the older enchanted trinkets tucked away for display, had gone missing over the weekend. Somehow it had turned into a full-blown investigation. The item didn't hold any real threat or value; if anything, Soobin thought the whole affair had been blown grossly out of proportion. He cleared his throat, mustering a faint smile.
“Sorry—what were you saying?”
The prefect's arms were folded, his brow deeply creased. “I said we ought to check the dungeons next. The Slytherin prefects have been acting shifty ever since we mentioned rounding up their lot for questioning." A groan followed, the boy's voice dropping into a drawl that he clearly imagined made him sound authoritative. “Honestly, I've seen them slinking about corridors they've no business being in. Always somewhere they shouldn't be. Isn't it obvious who we ought to start with?"
Soobin listened, the words floating past him like smoke leaving behind only irritation. It had been three days since that afternoon in the storage room — three days of your voice turning itself over in the back of his mind with a persistence that sleep might have dulled if he had been getting it.
"I'm not what they make me out to be. You of all people should know what that's like." — And he did. Merlin help him, he did.
“No,” he said, voice clipped but not raised, the change in tone made the prefect blink. “Leave the Slytherins out of it. Unless you've got solid proof, there's no cause to single them out." He raised an eyebrow, the last trace of his smile gone entirely. “You told me the last magic trace showed the artefact was by the lake, didn't you? Then if you're so eager, go dive in and see what you find.”
The prefect’s face coloured with disbelief. He opened his mouth to object, but Soobin cut him off before a single word could leave his lips.
“You’re dismissed.”
The prefect faltered, then turned on his heel and stalked off down the corridor. Soobin watched him go without feeling particularly bad about it. Then his eyes drifted to the window at the far end of the hall where the sky outside sat heavy and grey.
Three days, and this was what his mind had become in the aftermath — an utter disarray because of you.
To clear his mind, Soobin had taken to sorting potions in the classroom long before any of the junior students were due to arrive. The room was still and faintly lit by muted sunlight through narrow windows, and for a short while the silence had granted him the illusion of peace. He moved through the rows of labelled vials and rattling jars, meticulously aligning each one according to the Professor's usual arrangement, hoping the orderliness would somehow impose itself upon the growing disorder in his mind.
Anything to stop his mind from drifting back to that moment. Anything to stop thinking about you. Of course, as if summoned by thought alone, the door creaked open. He froze mid-reach, heart lurching with a recognition that some part of him had known it would be you.
You paused in the doorway with an unreadable look — though you masked your surprise more effectively than he did. Glancing around at the empty classroom, you ambled in and let a few vials drop onto the nearest table.
"You following me now?" Your tone was dry but teasing, looking at him with a faint quirk of your brow.
Soobin's throat had gone inexplicably arid. He feigned a scoff and turned back to the shelf. "Don't flatter yourself."
You smirked, then leaned back against one of the desks. "Word is, someone's lost a trinket and now the castle's having a meltdown over it."
He casted a slow side-glance toward you. He watched your face more than he listened to your words, wondering if you, too, had already been on the receiving end of those narrow-eyed stares and baseless suspicions like the rest of your house? He wouldn’t put it past them. Slytherin had always made for convenient scapegoats. He didn’t know if anyone had singled you out yet, and he wouldn’t ask — but the thought made his chest tighten regardless.
"I'm looking into it," he said at last, his hands fiddling with a cork that needed no adjustment whatsoever. "I'm doing what I can to stop people jumping to conclusions. But—well—I mean, I just hope—"
You snorted and raised a hand, cutting him off without needing to raise your voice by a single degree. "Don't pity us. Told you we’re used to it by now. Frankly, it's getting funny—watching them scurry around like rats thinking they’ve uncovered something worthwhile.” You reached into your robes and produced another small vial, turning it over between your fingers before tossing it lightly onto the desk beside him. “But I will say this—you’re wasting your time rounding us up."
He watched you cross the room with an unhurried gait before you stopped where he stood, taking in his handiwork of the shelves. "One of your prefect lackeys cornered me yesterday, asked if I’d been out past curfew. Couldn’t lie—of course I had. Have you seen our dorm? Feels like a cupboard on the best of days. Sometimes I need air, that’s all."
His eyes widened, caught off guard by how easily you admitted to rule-breaking. You laughed at the expression he wore.
"Lucky I was out, though. I had such a magnificent view of the Great Lake. You might want to check with the Gryffindor Quidditch lot."
He blinked, processing your words. "Are you sure you saw—"
You shrugged, brushing past him with a careless grace. "Up to you, Head Boy. Whether you believe me or not, that’s your decision."
Before stepping out, you gave him a languid wave over your shoulder. Just like that you were gone, leaving him standing there amidst the shelves and sunlight and questions.
There was no logic in doubting you when everything you’d done until now pointed away from manipulation. Besides, you had every reason not to help him. So why did you hand him information that benefitted him and cost you nothing to withhold?
Perhaps it was a means of keeping suspicion away from your house, now that you had him at a disadvantage. Or were you truly doing it because you simply could?
The more you occupied his thoughts, the less sense you made.
But for now, he had to take a risk — one rooted in instinct. By mid-afternoon, he had assembled his prefects and approached the Gryffindor Quidditch team. What followed sent a ripple through the castle by sundown: sure enough, buried beneath spare brooms and scattered playbooks, tucked into a leather duffle bearing the team's crest, the artefact was found.
The case, to the astonishment of a great many people, was closed within hours.
In the Great Hall, beneath the enchanted ceiling deepening into evening stars, Soobin had been summoned to the front of the room and praised. His name rang out across all four tables, followed by applause and murmured admiration. He bowed his head politely and accepted the accolades but it felt hollow for the truth sitting heavily in his chest — the success wasn’t his.
It all felt wrong because it wasn’t his doing.
As his eyes swept over the Slytherin table, he found you with your chin propped on your palm, your expression as unreadable as ever. But you were watching him. He held your gaze and felt his shoulders drop with the breath leaving him. If his eyes could speak, he hoped they’d managed to say the words he couldn’t voice aloud here.
You did this.
You smiled faintly, a small twitch of your lips before you looked away.
The applause went on but Soobin could no longer hear it properly over the ringing in his ears. Praise meant nothing when it was built on someone else’s truth. If the system failed to acknowledge how to recognise the likes of you, someone had to.
He wasn't about to forget what he owed you. And he wasn't about to pretend otherwise, even if only to himself.
For as long as you could remember, sleep had never come easily to you. It was a fickle guest at best, arriving on its own terms and departed the same way. There were stretches of nights where you spent endless hours staring at the ceiling of your dormitory, thoughts circling like vultures over carrion and refusing to give you peace. On the worst of those nights, when the insomnia bit harder than you could handle, you would find yourself wandering beneath the stars, seeking calm in the open air and high arches of the Astronomy Tower.
Draped in shadows and moonlight, the tower had always felt like another world entirely. Up there, it was just you and the sky, the stretch of it so vast it made your problems feel smaller, if only for a little while. It had long since become your refuge, a haven away from the noise, both external and internal.
You knew the patrol schedule of the prefects by heart. It didn't take much to memorize the patterns of their rounds and adjust your movements accordingly, seamlessly gliding between the gaps they left behind. It was a routine that had served you well for years because you earned and protected it with vigilance. So when you reached the floor just beneath the tower that night, bleary-eyed from another restless stretch and wrapped in your usual cloak of solitude, it came as a rude jolt to realise your calculations had, for once, failed you.
The faint scuff of approaching footsteps from around the bend told you someone else was near, and your brain kicked into high alert, racing to concoct a plausible diversion or escape plan that might buy you time. You were just beginning to run through your options when a hand closed firmly around your arm.
Before you could so much as draw a breath, you were pulled sideways into a narrow alcove swallowed by shadows. Your back met cold stone, and another hand pressed over your mouth blocking any chance to produce a sound worth suppressing. Your heart slammed against your ribs. Every nerve in your body had gone rigid with alarm, and for one suspended, disorienting moment you could see nothing in the dark at all.
Then your vision adjusted, and you saw Soobin.
He was pressed close, his frame angled between yours and the faint light filtering in from the corridor. So close that you could make out the warning in his expression before he raised one finger slowly to his lips. His eyes held yours with an intensity that was not unkind but brooked absolutely no argument.
You stared back, stunned into silence. After a long beat, his hand withdrew from your mouth and he stepped back by a fraction, creating a margin of space between you that the alcove barely accommodated. The sudden lack of contact made the air feel colder somehow, and you drew in a sharp breath as if recovering from a plunge underwater.
From where you stood within the narrow recess of the alcove, you listened to him speak with another prefect. Despite the levelness threaded through each reply he offered, there remained a faint impatience beneath it whenever she attempted to prolong the exchange. He told her he had already checked the passage adjoining the western staircase, that Peeves had apparently overturned a suit of armour two floors below and distracted half the prefect patrol for nearly twenty minutes. By the time he assured her he would finish the remaining rounds himself, the girl sounded appeased enough to descend the staircase without another word.
The echo of her footsteps gradually faded into the lower corridors until silence reclaimed the floor once more.
You remained where you were for another moment regardless, and only after you felt certain the coast was clear did you finally turn your attention toward him. He stood near the stone archway leading toward the upper staircase, shoulder resting against the pillar beside it while his arms remained folded loosely across his chest. Though the dim torchlight left portions of his expression obscured, you still caught the rueful way in which he looked at you.
“Had a feeling you’d turn up here tonight,” he said, lowering his voice now that the corridor belonged only to the two of you.
You eyed him warily, tone dry as ever. "So you are following me."
To your surprise, the accusation only drew a warm laugh from him, and you found yourself momentarily thrown. Because up until then you had only seen fragments of him yet this laughter belonged to none of those versions entirely. The corners of his eyes had drawn together faintly in a way that made him appear younger than he usually allowed himself to be. His dimple surfaced fully this time, and though you’d never admit it aloud, your eyes remained on them a moment too long.
He tipped his head toward the staircase. “Come along.”
You hesitated for a heartbeat before following him up the remaining flight. When you reached the top, he had already stepped aside to allow you through the stone archway first. The Astronomy Tower opened before you in a vast stretch of moonlit stone and open sky, the wind brushing past your robes while the stars scattered overhead in endless clusters that seemed brighter from this height than anywhere else within the castle grounds. Oh, how much you loved this.
"I was wondering," he said eventually, glancing sidelong at you, "if you wanted to seal our transaction."
That earned your full attention at once. You regarded him with narrowed eyes. "Oh? What do you propose?"
He looked out at the sky as he spoke, as though the words came easier when he wasn't delivering them directly. “Top floors fall under my patrol rounds,” he explained. “I usually leave the tower until last, which means hardly anyone comes up here after curfew unless I bring them myself. You could use it whenever you please.”
You tilted your head, assessing him, because generosity rarely arrived without hidden motives attached to it. He seemed to notice the caution settle across your face because a faint awkwardness entered his expression before he continued.
“It’s meant as thanks,” he admitted, voice lowering further while his eyes drifted briefly toward the floor between you. “And an apology as well. For the way I spoke to you that day in the storage room. For the assumptions I made.” His mouth pressed briefly into a thin line before he glanced back toward you again. “If being up here gives you a bit of peace, then maybe it’ll bring me some too. Knowing I could give you something in return."
You scoffed — startled, if you were being honest with yourself. As always, you reached for the oldest armour in your arsenal: deflection.
“You do realise,” you replied, folding your arms loosely while turning toward the night sky again in hopes the movement might conceal the faint disarray creeping beneath your composure, “that I didn’t do anything grand for you, right?”
Soobin did not appear remotely surprised by your response. If anything, he looked rather resigned, offering a soft nod that seemed more of a confirmation to himself than a reply meant for you.
“Yep. Had a feeling you’d say that,” he murmured, then he held out a hand like he was proposing a treaty. "Truce?"
Your gaze dropped to his outstretched hand while the cold night air swept through the tower and stirred the sleeves of his robes around his wrists. There remained a ridiculous sincerity to the gesture that had you studying it as though it were a foreign object. Rather than humouring him immediately, you folded your arms across your chest instead which was part self-protection, part calculated provocation.
“And access to the Restricted Section whenever I fancy it,” you bargained smoothly. “You’ll cover for me.”
One of his brows arched, and though he managed to preserve most of his composure, there was the faintest flicker of exasperation in his eyes. It could’ve even been reluctant amusement at your audacity.
“You do realise that I’m not actually allowed in there either,” he replied, the protest lacking any real conviction.
“Yes, but you’ll be let off the hook far more easily than I would, wouldn’t you?” You only shrugged, unbothered. “I may as well take advantage of that.”
A long sigh escaped him then, and he brought one hand toward his forehead before rubbing briefly at his temple. The sight pulled the faintest twitch from the corner of your mouth because there was a peculiar satisfaction in watching Choi Soobin gradually realise you intended to exhaust every ounce of patience he possessed.
“I think that balances our arrangement rather nicely. I’m being so terribly generous by keeping your secret, after all. Surely you can manage this much for me in return. Unless—” Your head tilted slightly afterward, letting the smirk curl lazily across your lips. “Your saintliness is repulsed by my sins?”
The sound that left him then came dangerously close to a snort despite the visible effort he made to suppress it, his head dipping briefly while one hand covered part of his mouth for a moment. He turned away from you entirely and crossed toward the far side of the tower where a worn satchel had been abandoned beside the wall.
You initially expected parchment or patrol schedules to emerge from within, because despite everything you had witnessed, part of you still remained convinced that Choi Soobin belonged too perfectly within the image Hogwarts had built around him to truly step beyond its rules in any meaningful way. That assumption dissolved the instant he withdrew a thick leather-bound book whose worn spine and tarnished silver embossing bore the tell-tale signs of having been plucked from the shelves no student was meant to touch.
Restricted Section.
Your brows lifted at once before you could stop yourself.
Soobin glanced back over his shoulder then, catching the exact moment your expression changed. The satisfaction that crossed his face afterwards appeared far too pleased for your liking.
When he held it out to you, instead of taking it you fixed him with a deadpan look. “You don’t have permission to enter the Restricted Section, you say?” you asked slowly as the implication sank in.
Because it was obvious now — to get that book, he would have had to slip past more than one barrier, and likely break more than a few rules. The smile on his lips told you he hadn’t borrowed it under anyone’s good graces. He’d gone in himself, without approval and permission. There was a flicker of pride in the way he stepped closer, extending the book again, as though this too were part of the truce.
“As you can see, I’m not terribly committed to sainthood,” he said with a soft laugh bordering on irony, keeping the book away when you showed no signs of taking it. “You already knew that, didn’t you?”
You were still looking at him with a subtle incredulous look. “Feels like I’ve been hexed.”
Then came the grin again, lopsided and strangely genuine in a way that didn’t suit the polished Head Boy the rest of the school had come to revere. “We’re sharing sins now.”
You looked down at his hand when he held it out again. The very hands that had been manacled to yours by shared sins as though the pair of you had sealed some farcical pact made in jest. Who could have predicted that those same hands would soon find themselves bound in matters far graver and knotted into secrets far more treacherous?
You allowed your hand to turn beneath his in acceptance of the truce he had offered earlier.
That was where it began, though neither of you possessed enough foresight then to recognise the significance hidden inside what appeared, at first glance, to be little more than a mutually beneficial arrangement. What first emerged from necessity settled gradually into habit, and habit carried the pair of you toward a routine so natural in its development that neither of you seemed to notice how deeply it had embedded itself into your evenings until the pattern already existed too thoroughly to break apart without leaving absence behind.
It surprised you, in truth, how quickly it formed.
The corridors would be vacant by the time you arrived, just as he had said, and you no longer had to pause at intersections to check whether another prefect remained nearby, nor did you continue moving with the same guarded caution that had marked your first visits there. Sooner or later he would arrive after patrol exactly where you expected him to be, carrying whichever book had occupied his attention that particular night.
There would rarely be much conversation at first.
Most nights passed in that strange parallel silence, with the only sound being the occasional turning of a page. He studied a lot, not just schoolwork, but obscure texts filled with complicated spellwork, fragmented theories on ancient magic, and handwritten annotations crammed tightly between margins yellowed from age. At times he tested incantations beneath his breath while tracing slow movements through the air with his wand. Other times, he simply fell asleep.
You would watch, faintly incredulous, as his posture would slacken and his chin drop slowly to his chest. There were nights he barely lasted twenty minutes before nodding off, and you had to wonder if he really lacked that much awareness or if he was just that used to trusting no one would disturb him.
Or worse, if he thought you would be kind enough to rouse him when it was time to leave.
He’d be disappointed if he thought you’d be that nice. You weren’t his minder. Yet inevitably your annoyance drove you toward him anyway. Sometimes you nudged the toe of his shoe with your own until he stirred awake sluggishly, and sometimes your fingers landed briefly against his shoulder while you muttered a curt, "It’s time."
Each time, he obeyed with surprising docility for somebody so relentlessly rigid when conscious.
The days rolled into weeks. There were times when the stillness gave way to words without preamble. One such night found you with your back resting against the cold surface of a column, head tilted back to peer up at the invisible sky beyond the high windows. Nearby, Soobin lay sprawled on his back with his arms folded over his midriff. The silence between you transformed into something so harmless now that when he spoke, it didn't feel jarring.
"Mind if I talk?" he asked — not so much as seeking permission as gauging whether your presence was receptive to it tonight.
You offered no verbal reply, only glanced down at him for the briefest moment before looking skyward again. By now he knew you well enough to read that as a yes.
"I don’t reckon I’ve slept properly in weeks," he admitted after several moments had passed. He didn’t expect an answer, or perhaps didn’t even want one. “Every time I close my eyes, I start thinking about all the things I haven’t finished yet. There’s always another essay to polish, another text to memorise, another meeting to attend, and if I fall behind even once—it feels like I’m squandering the whole bloody point of it, whatever 'it' is meant to be.”
You could have answered that one honestly. Your own nights had not been restful in years, and insomnia had a way of making you feel oddly territorial about the subject — but you held your tongue and let him continue. He clearly needed the space to do so more than you needed to fill it. Soobin spoke more freely during the moments when he believed he was not being interrupted out of pity.
“I don’t even know what I’m chasing any longer. What exactly am I doing any of this for?” he continued, one hand lifting to cover his eyes briefly before falling back against his chest again. “I think most people believe I enjoy it. The badges, the praise, all that rubbish. I suppose I’ve never given them much reason to think otherwise. That’s probably my own fault.”
The shadows beneath his eyes appeared darker from this angle. There was an exhaustion in the way his fingers flexed against his shirt that made your chest tighten with an emotion foreign to you.
Perhaps nobody had ever bothered asking him whether he was tired.
You lowered your eyes toward your lap instead as your thumb found the edge of a loose thread at your knee. You rolled it between your fingers, more to occupy your hands than from any real interest in mending it, because if you looked at him for too long while he spoke in that worn-down voice of his — you suspected you might begin to get attached to him in ways that would become inconvenient later.
It would have been simpler if he had truly been arrogant; simpler if all that brilliance of his came attached to cruelty or vanity. But Soobin wasn’t held together by pride. He was held by the sheer pressure of never being allowed to fall behind. He lived in a world of ‘musts’ and ‘shoulds,’ where stepping out of line meant becoming irrelevant entirely.
And you — well, you suspected as much weeks ago. Merlin, you’d known from the moment you found him in that cramped storage room, folded in on himself with tears slipping down his face like he was trying to shed everything that made him human. The memory sat unpleasantly beneath your ribs because you realised how long he must have been carrying all of this alone.
"If I stop, it’ll look like I’ve given up. But if I keep going like this, I’ll fall apart." There was a note of distance in his voice now, like he was repeating something someone else had once said to him, or perhaps something he’d told himself so often it had begun to lose all meaning.
So you picked the option where no one notices. You didn’t say it out loud, but the thought crossed your mind anyway. You glanced at him though all you could really look at were his hands. One brushed a loose string on his sleeve, then curled into a fist. They were restless. He hadn’t looked your way once.
“You’re not very good at taking your own side,” you said eventually. Your voice wasn’t cruel.
That earned a short breath of laughter from him, though there was little humour in it. His head rolled slightly against the floor until he could glance towards you properly for the first time since the conversation began.
“I haven’t the faintest clue how,” he admitted. “I think I was only ever taught how to win. No one ever mentioned what to do if I decided to lose on purpose, or if I just lost.”
You drew your knees closer towards yourself before resting your cheek lightly against your forearm. The two of you were looking at each other; your eyes sharp in the shadows.
"That sounds like a miserable way to live."
He remained silent, then softly, "It is."
No words were shared for several minutes afterwards.
You sat with everything he said, not sure whether to add anything, or whether adding anything would cheapen it. There was an intimacy to honesty that you had always disliked. It felt like he took a part of his heart out and forced you to hold the bleeding piece. And now it sat in your hands, raw and uncomfortable, a truth so vulnerable you didn’t know if you had the right to hold it. Your hands were now tainted.
“I’ve had people telling me all the time that they admire me,” he added eventually, and this time the laugh that slipped from him sounded hollow enough to make your fingers still against your knee. “They say I can come to them whenever I need help, that they’d always be there if matters went wrong, but I keep wondering whether any of that’s actually true. Do I truly have anyone I can rely on?”
“Is that why you were crying that day?” you asked carefully.
A faint smile touched his mouth at the memory. “Had nowhere else to go,” he admitted. “So I hid myself away until I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”
“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say.
His titles and image walked into rooms before he did. His perfection gave people something to admire, but it never gave them a reason to look closer. He was lonely. Far lonelier than you’d guessed.
Then he rolled onto his side to face you properly, one arm folding beneath his head whilst the other rested across the floor between you. That smile remained, but it didn’t touch his eyes.
“What about you?” he asked.
Your brows drew together slightly. “What about me?”
“Why do you always seek control?”
“To survive,” you answered plainly.
Soobin had begun understanding you in fragments over these past weeks; through your tendency of detachment, through the cynicism honed by years of distrust, through every moment where your instinct had been to strike first before anyone else had the chance to wound you. Ever since that time inside the storage room, you began appearing in his periphery in ways you hadn’t been before, cropping up in spaces he’d never registered you in, though now, he wondered how he could’ve possibly missed you.
His gaze became trained on the people around you — he observed the way others spoke to you, the glances exchanged in corridors, the narrowed eyes in classrooms and he noted the subtleties most others overlooked. The treatment wasn’t always cruel, but it was pointed, and it was frequent. Soobin, who had lived much of his life under the soft glow of admiration and expectation, found it easy to see the difference. And in those differences, he understood you better than he expected to.
And you, despite every attempt to remain detached from him, had begun noticing him everywhere too. It wasn't just in this shared nightly hour you had, but in your own time, when you caught yourself glancing up in the corridors to find him already there, or letting your gaze pause just a fraction too long when he passed by your table in the Great Hall. Even during classes where you had no reason whatsoever to think about Choi Soobin, your attention betrayed you whenever his voice carried from the opposite end of the room.
He seemed more present now than before, more noticeable, though you weren’t sure whether it was him changing or you. Your eyes knew to find him, and perhaps his had done the same.
You didn’t quite know how to feel about it all. The change wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but it made you wary. That was a more simple way to put it. You, who had learnt better than to give in to soft comforts, couldn’t help but question it. After years of distrust, of guarding yourself against shallow kindness and false smiles, how could you begin to allow anyone in?
For Soobin, the change carried an entirely different sort of confusion. It felt like breathing for the first time in too long. It confused him, yes, left him reeling in the early days, but it also peeled back that internal tautness he never quite realised he lived with. You with all your blunt remarks and unreadable silences had given him a kind of space he didn’t know he needed. You never praised him for his marks. You never looked impressed by his titles. If anything, you dismissed them half the time. Yet you also never demanded more from him than honesty, and there was a frightening relief in being looked at without expectation wrapped around his throat.
You were always being watched before you were known.
And he was always being looked at, but never really seen.
You mirrored one another in temperament, in guardedness, in how you both wore your defence mechanisms like second skin. He understood you kept your heart barricaded not because there was nothing within. It had been built because you had been given far too many reasons to lock it away until you had perhaps forgotten what it had originally been protecting.
Yet, there it was, beating still.
He thought, perhaps selfishly, that if you'd let him then he could be someone you could rely on — just as he had slowly come to rely on you.
“Thank you for listening to me.” — He meant every syllable.
Your eyes darted towards him at once, though by then he had already turned away. Flat on his back again, his face tilted towards the terrace and eyes closed like he chose to retreat from the moment. A sense of discomfort bloomed somewhere under your sternum.
Gratitude had never sat comfortably in your hands. You knew how to deal with ridicule, suspicion, even cruelty. Those were territories you understood. Honest tenderness left you fumbling for footing.
“I should go back.” You pushed yourself upright rather abruptly, brushing stray dust from your robes in motions that lacked their usual composure. “It’s getting late. Goodnight, Soobin.”
He opened his eyes then, watching you for a second too long before giving a small nod. “Goodnight.”
He didn’t question why you suddenly looked incapable of remaining still beside him another minute longer. Perhaps he understood already. Perhaps he simply chose not to force the matter open.
You descended the spiral staircase with one hand pressed to the stone wall to keep balance, not that it mattered — it was your breath that threatened to slip whilst your thoughts churned noisily. You didn’t know what this meant or what tonight would become, or if it would become anything at all — but as you slipped into the darkness, one thing had been made clear. Whatever had passed between you tonight, it was not the sort of thing that vanished come morning.
Whether you spoke of it again or not, you’d both remember.
Taglist; @starrynightgyu @i-am-not-dal @hoefororeo @caratcakemoa @yystarz @i-like-to-read-at-4am @90steele @cen116 @bamgeutori @nanilis @sunooqvrlsx @izzyy-recs @tyunningism @pageraf
LOVE VOMIT [n.] — the term when you become too full with your feelings too quickly and too frequently that you end up spitting everything out before even getting the chance to digest. this happens to you more often than you’d like to admit— every quarter, actually, ever since starting college. but what can you do when the prospect of falling in love is just too good to say no to? what can you do when maybe the next desert might actually stay inside your system this time?
or, wherein you fall in love with a different guy every season but fail to notice the one that’s been looking at you the whole year.
PAIRING. choi soobin x female! reader (ft. the rest of txt x reader). GENRE. college! au, orgmate! soobin, strangers to friends to lovers, slice of life, romance, humor, mild angst, comfort (no hurt), SLOWBURN, featuring some members of seventeen, enhypen, and le sserafim. WARNINGS. reader is shorter than soobin, swearing, drinking, kissing, unrequited feelings, annoying org jargon. WORD COUNT. 36k. TAGLIST. @stellz581 @michipan @goldennika @taekwondoes @cerealdreamwriter
NOTE. this fic is a five-in-one but it’s obvious endgame is (hint: look at the header). thoroughly enjoyed projecting all my past crushes into my dear tubatu boys haha i hope no one i know personally reads this haha.
some of the scenes were lifted from my own personal experiences HUAHAH have fun guessing which ones are real (but embellished) and made up for the sake of the story 😎. anyhow, this is long. this is slow. but i do hope the payoff at the end is worth watching soobin’s year long suffering when he finally gets the girl 😭 hope to hear your thoughts on this. enjoy!
reposted because tumblr is an ass.
THE TIME IS SPRING. A soft musk in the air, freshly bloomed flowers lining the sidewalks, and the start of a new semester. There’s something gentle about springtime, reminiscent of crisp blankets straight from the dryer with lavender seeping into its cotton folds, and sunlight leaking through pleated sheer curtains. The season is for cherry blossoms and picnic baskets, outings and first loves. You’ve always associated these things with spring, however none of these sensibilities are present tonight.
Keep reading
spin the bottle ─── k.th
SUMMARY ⭒ a game of seven minutes in heaven leaves both you and taehyun in unexpected desire.
PAIRING ⭒ taehyun x f!reader, virgin!taehyun, soft!taehyun, switch!taehyun
WARNINGS ⭒ smut, drunk intercourse, oral (m receiving), blowjob, masturbation, edging, teasing, begging, praise, cum in mouth, pet names, hand in hair, pain
WORD COUNT ⭒ 3.9k
THE MUSIC THUMPED low through the walls of Yeonjun’s penthouse, a slow, pulsing bass that made the glass on the coffee table vibrate like it had a heartbeat. Outside, Seoul glittered in streaks of bright lights that faded into shadow, and the skyline was sharp against the indigo night. Inside, it was warm and tangled.
Beomgyu was already halfway to drunk—being the lightweight he is—as he was laughing too loudly and nearly tipped over Kai during arm-wrestling on the couch. Soobin danced barefoot near the speakers, his arms swaying above his head like he wasn’t even trying to keep time with the music.
The circle had started casually—an afterthought when Yeonjun said “Let’s do something dumb,” and suddenly everyone shuffled into a loose ring around an empty bottle of soju that Taehyun had chugged in one go.
You sat cross-legged beside Soobin now, one knee bouncing slightly under your fingertips. Your hoodie was soft, its sleeves pulled down past your knuckles as if trying to hide them inside. You weren’t exactly shy, just careful with where you stepped in this friend group.
Then, there was Taehyun.
He sat three people away from you across the circle with one arm slung behind Kai, his long fingers tapping at his bicep along with some unheard rhythm only he could feel. His dark hair fell slightly into his eyes again; earlier tonight he’d pushed it back carelessly for once instead of letting it flop forward like always—but by now most of that effort had dissolved into messy strands that framed his face just right.
You watched him without meaning to—at least not consciously. Taehyun leaned forward when Beomgyu spun for what felt like the tenth time already.
”Hit me!” Beomgyu shouted over another chorus drop before spinning wildly. The bottle landed nowhere but on Yeonjun. Yeonjun groaned when it pointed at himself, earning howls from Kai who immediately demanded that re-spin rules be banned forever.
Your turn came again—the third or fourth rotation since things got weirdly intense—it was a mix between playful teasing and real stakes creeping beneath every spin because let’s be honest: half these people wanted someone specific across that circle line. Maybe more than a friendship was brewing under fake dares.
Your fingers trembled faintly, but not exactly with fear. You can admit that it was the anticipation curling quietly behind everyone’s ribs, too tight around their lungs. You weren’t sure why this game made everything louder tonight. The color is deeper, and the sound is sharper. So you exhaled slowly, tucked stray hair behind your ear despite knowing no one cared—and spun the bottle.
It wobbled left, then stuttered right; it slowed down..and stopped.
Not pointing at Soobin. Not Yeonjun.
No—it faced straight across from you. Towards Taehyun's polished sneakers that are laced tightly but still somehow elegant-looking anyway. They matched everything about him really, especially the way he masked all of his emotions carefully when he looked up at you.
Silence fell first, it wasn’t long, but it was heavy. Everyone was waiting for reality to catch up. “Wait,” said Soobin behind you softly, as if disbelief hadn’t settled yet.
It exploded the second after. Beomgyu shrieked so hard that someone’s tea spilled off the couch cushion onto the carpet below—but no one cared. Others followed in the yelling. “Finally!” Kai yelled, everyone’s pitches were high.
“You and Taehyun!” Yeonjun pointed at you, “I dare, seven minutes in heaven.”
A blush flared hot right up to your neck instantly. You dropped your gaze almost immediately. You even covered your mouth, though not sure why, and every reflex in your body reacted faster than your brain could process. Across the circle though, he hadn’t moved much initially either.
Taehyun sat frozen for half a second—just long enough that you thought maybe he’d protest. Maybe say it was stupid. Maybe laugh it off like it meant nothing to him, because it did, right?
Wrong. He blinked, then slowly pushed himself off the floor. One hand braces against the carpet as he rises, tall and lean under the dim flow of string lights draped over Yeonjun’s living room walls. His hoodie rode up slightly at the back—just enough to show a sliver of warm skin above his jeans. That moment made you realize how real this moment felt now that it was happening to you.
He didn’t look at you yet, not directly. Yet there was something in his jawline: tight just once before relaxing again—an almost imperceptible clench. It was as if he were preparing himself for what might come behind closed doors with you, who had been silent through so much of his school year, until tonight.
”Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Yeonjun teased with a smirk while he tossed an empty can toward his recycling bin and missed badly.
Beomgyu stood dramatically like some sort of announcer from ancient times. “Tonight’s fated lovers enter heaven..” He gestured grandly toward the hallway leading away from chaos—a narrow corridor lined with framed concert posters and shoes stacked messily by the front door.
One of the hallways ended with a small storage closet tucked beside the bathroom near the far end of the apartment unit. “And they shall return changed forever!” Soobin added mockingly while pressing his knuckles into his cheeks, trying hard not to laugh too loud but failing anyway. His joy is contagious.
”You guys are such babies,” You snapped back at the two, swallowing hard as you were still kneeling on the floor that you were unable to move up from. You tugged forward, momentum caught memories that played in your mind.
Specifically the third period. Your classroom—the one where winter sunlight poured unevenly across worn wooden desks and window seats. Every one of your classmates would fight over those seats, but neither you nor Taehyun would. You always had a good angle view of the doorway entrance, able to sight any tardy student, but one particular boy whose presence somehow made the entire room shift.
Taehyun would slide inside the class seconds before the final bell rang, backpack slung against his low shoulders, and fingers brushing the doorframe without acknowledging the teacher unless he was called on directly. Nobody noticed him in the back of the class, but you did.
Not noticing everything, it was just all the little things. The way he chewed on his gum absentmindedly during lectures, and how he stopped because his bubble made a loud pop when it was quiet during a pop quiz. The way he’d gather his books at a slow pace, not caring that the class bell had rang three minutes ago.
Everything you noticed about him, everything you knew. It was everything to your knowledge of him that made you conclude Taehyun was the type of person who doesn’t care if he feels exposed or vulnerable. Because he knows that’s who he is. He’s an open, honest, and the most transparent person everyone knows.
“Come on! Seven minutes won’t last forever!” Soobin nudged you. You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the pounding in your chest. Were you actually going to be locked inside a closet with Taehyun—the boy you had quietly admired from afar for so long? Your palms were sweaty, and your knees felt like jelly. You tried to remind yourself that it was just seven minutes.
Soobin nudged you again, encouraging you to go through with this crazy idea. You looked over at Taehyun who was standing by the end of the couch, leaning on it as if none of this was affecting him at all. “Fine,” you finally agree.
Cheers filled the living room, telling them to shut up as you followed Taehyun down the hallway, your mind racing with thoughts and memories. Ever since you shared the same classroom with him, the quiet moments between lessons had been the highlights of your days. But there was something else lurking beneath that silence you couldn’t figure out if comfortable or not.
An undeniable tension built between you two as you stood on the brink of entering that small closet together. Taehyun glanced over his shoulder to look at you, and you caught a glimpse of something in his eyes—a hint of nervousness beneath his usual cool facade. He held out his hand, palm up, as if offering it to you. The gesture was subtle, but it still made your heart skip a beat nonetheless.
At that moment, time seemed to slow down. You hesitated for a split second, your mind warring with your heart. On one hand, you were terrified of what might happen once the closet door closed behind you. On the other hand, this was your chance to finally cross that invisible line that separated you and Taehyun. You reached for his hand, your fingers brushing against his. A spark seemed to ignite between you the moment skin touched skin, and as he pulled you into the closet with him, everything else faded away.
The sound of the door shutting behind you echoed through the cramped space, isolating you from the rest of the world outside. The darkness was almost absolute, except for the sliver of light filtering through the crack beneath the door. It illuminated Taehyun’s face, casting sharp shadows along his jawline and highlighting his features in a way that made your heart skip yet another beat.
You were both standing extremely close now, the proximity of his body making your pulse quicken even more. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent surrounding you like a warm embrace. It was intoxicating. You tried to regain your composure in the cramped closet, but you became hyper-aware of every subtle movement Taehyun made.
Your brain was in overdrive, analyzing his every move as if your life depended on it. You couldn’t help but remember the moments you’d witnessed in class, when he seemed to exhale an air of indifference towards everyone around him. But now, with your face just inches from his, you could see the subtle signs of his nervous excitement.
The tiny beads of sweat on his forehead, the slight trembling of his lower lip... Was it your imagination, or did he actually just gulp? It was like he was trying to maintain his usual facade, but there was a crack in the armor.
Taehyun’s gaze snapped up to meet yours, his pupils dilated in the dim light of the closet. Your body was thrumming with anticipation. Something in his expression changed just then, as if his cool composure seemed to slip away, leaving behind an almost raw vulnerable look, His lips parted slightly. “You..” Taehyun finally spoke, he seemed to struggle for words before letting out a soft, shaky exhale. “You look.. good tonight.”
His words hung in the air, the compliment simple but loaded with unspoken meaning. It caught you off guard, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “Thanks,” you managed to croak out, the world feeling foreign on your tongue. An awkward silence followed you both. This was Taehyun bare, the guy you’d been quietly pining on for months.
Taehyun fidgeted with the hem of his sweatshirt, his gaze dropping to the floor as he seemed to wrestle with something inside. “Can I kiss you?”
The words left you speechless, so you just nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without your voice coming out as a squeak. The tension in the air was so thick you could almost taste it. Taehyun took a deep breath, his gaze still locked on yours. “I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time.”
Before you could even process what he said, he closed the distance between you two in one swift motion. His hands found your face, cupping your cheeks gently as his lips crashed against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. It was electric. The moment his lips touched yours, every coherent thought in your mind dissolved into nothing.
Taehyun’s kiss was intense and passionate, full of pent-up longing and desire that had been building between you both for months without either of you fully realizing it until now. You could feel him pouring everything into this single moment: all the stolen glances in class, all the quiet moments spent near each other; all those unspoken words left unsaid between two people who were afraid to make the first move.
You melted into him instantly. Your hands found their way up to his shoulders instinctively, pulling him closer as if needing more contact, because somehow just kissing wasn’t enough anymore. Taehyun broke the kiss with reluctance and moved down to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses that made your skin tingle.
His hair brushed against your sensitive skin, and it set jolts of excitement straight through your body. His lips traveled lower, his fingers tracing small circles on your hip bone, then slipping under the hem of your hoodie where you had nothing but a bra under. He pauses, breathing heavily against your skin as his fingers scratch lightly at your back
Taehyun’s eyes flick up to meet yours—dark with need, asking permission without words. He stands up straight again, pecking kisses on your forehead. You shiver beneath his touch, electricity coursing through your veins. You slowly sink to the ground in front of him, resting your knees with your eyes locked on his. Your thumb strokes slow circles just below his belly button, fingers teasing at the waistband of his pants.
His breath hitches as your fingers trace the sensitive skin just below his navel, sending a visible shiver through him. A low groan escapes Taehyun’s soft lips when your hand unbuttons his jeans, pulling down his waistband, and fingertips grazing against heated skin. As his veiny cock pops out, his hand tangles gently in your hair. It wasn’t guiding or forcing—just holding you gently. “Fuck—“ Everything below him clenched as he felt your warm breath against his exposed skin.
He watched with hooded eyes, muscles in his stomach tense under your touch, jaw clenching briefly before he exhaled a ragged chuckle. Taehyun seemed to watch with anticipation, then everything crumbled within him as you gave kisses to the side of his cock. You swirled your tongue on his slit, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. “S-stop teasing,” he hisses softly, grip tightening in his own palm, but he never tightens the grip in your hair; afraid to hurt you.
You keep eye contact with him, feeling pleasure in the way you can see him visibly struggling to keep his control. The way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken with restraint and desire. He wants you—needs you in every way that borders on desperation, but he never wanted to push you. Taehyun lets you stay in control.
The tension in his body is undeniable. Every muscle is tight, and his ragged breath betrays him. His free hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone with tenderness, ignoring the fire in his stare. “God— you’re so pretty like this..”
Taehyun’s voice is wrecked already, torn between the need for more and the overwhelming instinct not to push you past your limits. But that was all he needed to say for you to take him deeper in your mouth, you could feel him at the back of your throat. He was oversized—especially for your mouth. He was barely halfway in. Taehyun felt your teeth grazing him a bit, but it just sparked the fire in him even more.
The faintest scrape of your teeth has him shuddering, biting back a groan as his hips twitch forward just slightly, a reflexive thrust he immediately regrets when he feels you tense. “Shit.. I’m sorry, baby.” Taehyun grits out, fingers flexing helplessly against your scalp before forcing himself still—even if it nearly kills him.
Taehyun’s knuckles whiten where they grip the wall behind you for support. His head falls back with a broken sound—less a moan than a surrender. He tried to keep quiet, knowing there could be someone out there listening. The struggle is written plainly across his face. You were able to see it in his brows and the way they furrowed in conflicted pleasure. Taehyun was teetering on the edge.
The silence seems almost deafening in the confined space, broken only by the sounds of Taehyun’s muffled moans and your gagged vocals. His gaze is fixed on you, watching as you enjoy the moment with Taehyun. His jaw was clenched tight as he fought for composure, not wanting the moment to end.
You pull yourself off him, the sudden escape from you made him shiver. “Are you being shy?” You frowned as you looked up at him, and it made Taehyun hungry. “Why aren’t you being aggressive with me?” The second your lips part in permission, Taehyun’s restraint shatters.
A guttural sound tears from his throat as his fingers twist in your hair—not rough, but commanding—tilting your head back just enough to meet his darkened gaze. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” His voice is soft but it’s filled with the most pure velvet danger, low and wrecked. “You want every inch?” He asked, his free hand caressing your face softly as you nodded. “I’ll help you with that then, baby.” God, everything he said made your heart melt. Despite all of the dirty things you two were doing—he made everything around you feel real, feel like he wanted this only for your pleasure.
You smile before you suck on his cock again, swirling your tongue around his tip that was already leaking with precum. You licked up and down, making Taehyun lose everything. Then he moves—slow at first, letting you adjust before the pace turns punishing, hips rolling in a rhythm that has tears prickling at your lashes. Every drag of him against your tongue pulls another ragged noise from his chest, each thrust more desperate than the last. He was down your throat, then out again another second. The both of you loved that feeling.
He was outright using you with filthy precision, but he made sure you were okay with everything, looking down at you with an adoring look in his eyes. But the moment you whimper around him, all bets are off. Taehyun’s fingers tighten—not enough to hurt, but he felt like he owned you. He drags you impossibly closer by the hair, his hips snapping forward with a brutal rhythm that steals the breath from your lungs.
Taehyun pulls away from you, your mouth just right at his tip, then slams back into you. Overstimulation burns through you as tears spill freely now, your throat fluttering around him in helpless spasms while he groans like a man starved. “That’s it— Mmph!” Taehyun muffles between thrusts, “You’re doing so good— for me.. Taking it like..this dick only belongs to you...” His voice was shredded raw with pleasure and pain. The wet sounds are obscene; music to Taehyun’s ears. It drove him closer to his orgasm, but he didn’t want it to end.
Your spit was slicked upon your swollen lips as it drooled down from your chin. This was all the result of how deeply he’s making you take him. His thighs tremble when your nails dig into his legs blindly for balance—and that undignified desperation undoes him completely. A final snap of his hips and you could feel him tense up, knowing he’s about to finish. Instead of keeping the momentum going, Taehyun rips himself away at the last possible second, his entire body shuddering with the effort as he staggers back against the wall.
A strangled groan tears from his throat—half-relief, half-frustrated. He fists himself roughly, feeling your drool all over him, jaw clenching so tight you swear you were able to hear it from where you were on your knees. Before he was able to help himself finish, your fingers wrap around his wrist and yank his hand away with force. Taehyun’s gaze snaps down to meet yours, seeing you wipe drool off your lips with the back of your hand.
”You don’t get to decide where you finish..” Your voice is wrecked but firm at the same time, lips brushing against him with every word just to watch his stomach muscles clench in helpless response. “Wait, baby— Mmh! Fuck!” The raw noise he makes is almost pathetic when you drag him back between your teeth, pulling him forward through the belt loops of his pants. You drag the flat of your tongue along his length at a slow pace, savoring the way he jerks under your touch. Just as he starts to thrust into the warmth of your mouth again—you pull back with a smirk, leaving him straining on the edge.
”Please,” he chokes out before he can stop himself, fingers tangling helplessly in your hair, yet still not pushing you. You let him hover there—so close to your mouth he can feel your breath ghosting over his heated skin, yet denied the relief he’s trembling for. With every shaky exhale Taehyun lets out, you’re able to hear the desperation in them as you watch him unravel. His throat bobs with swallowed curses, and his hips stutter forward just slightly, as if he’s begging for you.
As another whine builds in his chest, you take him again. No teasing this time; just hungry pressure, swallowing him down until his knees actually buckle and he has to brace a hand against the wall again to stay upright. The sounds he makes are obscene, “Fuck— yes! Ohh.. just like that— Baby..” He can’t help it anymore as you milk every last drop of obedience from him. You suck your cheeks and Taehyun’s entire body locks up.
”Ngh—! Fuck— can’t last..” His hips stutter helplessly, “You feel so good…Mmmh!” He was torn between fucking into the wet heat of your mouth and obeying the iron grip you have on his thighs. Beads of sweat roll down his temple as he barely manages to choke out a warning—but it’s too late. Pleasure crashes over him like a rogue wave, ripping a guttural moan from deep in his chest as he spills across your tongue with his thighs trembling against you and his fingers tangled in your hair. You lick his final drops off his tip, making sure he watches you swallow. “Christ..” Taehyun manages to speak when he pulls his boxers and jeans up, finally slumping against the wall, sitting down. All he can do is drag you up by the collar for a kiss that tastes like salty and sweet submission.
You let yourself sink onto his lap, legs bracketing him with dizzying ease. His arms loop around your back to hold you there, fingers digging into your shoulder blade possessively. Taehyun’s eyes are still half-lidded, his usual cool demeanor nowhere in sight as he nuzzles into your neck with an exhausted groan. In the silence, you could hear the music blasting from the living room, and you hoped it had been like that throughout the whole time—because everyone knows it was past the seven-minute mark.
”After the party, let me give you what you deserve.” Taehyun mutters against your skin, voice low like he’s too tired to speak properly.
You smile, “Don’t forget it,” you tease back, tracing a finger along his jaw just to watch his eyelashes flutter as you press kisses on his cheek.
5-53pm © 2025
₊ ˚ ⊹ ིྀ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑
pairing: chaebol husband choi beomgyu x wife chaebol fem!reader
The fear that you’re losing something you never truly had. Your own ring, now too heavy in your palm. A ring that should have meant forever. Your deepest fear. Your husband.
warnings: reader discretion is advised. infidelity, arranged marriage, slow-burn, angst, toxic dynamics, emotional attachment, miscarriage!, misunderstandings, lovelorn, alcohol!consumption, guilt, repentance, rectification, accident, DUI(pls don't), anxiety!, panic-attack, implication of postpartum!depression, used different idols as ocs. if any of the warnings above might be triggering for you, please step back. let me know if I missed anything.
smut-warnings: MDNI, dubcon, explicit!descriptions, different smut-scenes. guilt-ridden!smut,beomgyu begging and crying while doing"it".
wc: 24k — playlist here.
notes: REPUBLISHED. may this story tear you apart, and somehow, when it’s over, stitch you back together piece by piece.
How is it that your own wedding makes you want to flee?
"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."
His voice is strangely distant, the words belong to someone else, rehearsed and repeated.
The ring slips onto your finger, its cold touch startling against your skin. You can’t tell if it’s the chill of the metal that makes you shiver, or the way his voice carries an indifference that seems to sit deep in your chest, pulling your breath with it.
The wedding dress; tailored from the finest silk, adorned with labyrinthine details, feels like something borrowed. Isn’t this supposed to be every girl’s dream? The happiest day of your life? The moment where everything begins, the start of your own family, your own story?
None of it feels like it. Not when he hasn’t said a single word to you since you arrived. It plagues your mind. And all you want to do is kick off the heels that bite into your feet, rip off the tiara that feels like a crown of lead, and run.
You let out a shaky exhale, the breath trembling in your chest when the ring settles on your finger. Your hands slip from his grasp, falling limply to your sides. The vows are done, the words spoken, but all you feel is an overwhelming urge to escape.
Your head turns, seeking the one person who feels safe. Your unsteady gaze finds Soobin, his worried eyes already fixed on you. He gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, the kind only he would know how to give. All you want is to fall apart—to let the tears come, to crumble into the silent comfort of his eyes, whispering it’s okay.
The pastor’s voice pulls you back, and your soon-to-be husband cups your face with a tenderness that feels reluctance, almost calculated. Hands warm but the eyes that meet yours, cold.
He leans in, and you close your eyes. His lips brush yours, soft, landing just shy of your bottom lip.
“And now, I pronounce you husband and wife,” the pastor declares, the words echoing hollowly in your ears.
Everyone claps.
It's official.
He is now your husband.
"Can you at least smile?" your mother’s sharp voice cuts, gaze fixed on you with her usual expectation. Her lips press together in disapproval. "I don’t want you embarrassing us, honey," she adds, eyes narrowing.
You force a small, strained smile as another guest offers their congratulations. The words feel hollow, and meaningless.
"Mother." Soobin’s voice interrupts, his equally sharp gaze lands on her, and without waiting for her permission, he steps closer, hand brushing your elbow. "We have friends over there. I’ll take Y/N for a bit."
Your mother opens her mouth, distaste printed on her face. "I could go with her—"
"It’s just our friends, Mother," Soobin interjects, his words clipped but polite enough to stop her in her tracks. "Nothing that requires your attention. Besides, I believe Miss Park was trying to get your attention earlier."
Before she can argue further, Soobin’s hand slips into yours, and he gently tugs you away. The grip is reassuring, steady—something to anchor you in this mess.
The crowd seems endless. More congratulations, more empty smiles. Your eyes wander, scanning the room, searching for the one person who should be at your side. But he isn’t there. He isn't… here.
Your husband is nowhere to be found. He vanished as soon as the ceremony ended.
Soobin doesn’t say anything as he leads you into a quiet, empty room. Once inside, he shuts the door firmly behind you, sealing out the noise of the party.
The second the door clicks, his hands are on your face, cradling you like you might break. And you do.
"Soobin," you choke out, your voice trembling. Hot tears stream down your face, and he pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively.
"Shh," he murmurs, his voice shaky, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back. "It’s okay. Let it out."
The tears come in waves, carrying with them all the weight you’ve been holding in; every forced smile, every empty thank yous, every aching reminder of your husband. That today isn’t what it should be.
"It hurts me," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "It hurts me that my dearest, sister had to go through with this." His words tremble, just like his hands that hold you tightly.
You can’t bring yourself to reply. Instead, you cling to him, your fingers twisting into the fabric of his jacket, making his heart clench. "Where the fuck is he anyway?" his voice betrays his frustration.
"I don’t—I don’t know," you whisper through your sobs. "How am I supposed to do this, Soobin? He wouldn’t even look at me." And beneath it all, the deeper truth haunts you. It isn’t just his absence or his coldness that hurts.
It’s the undeniable, unspoken reality that settles into your bones and refuses to leave: Choi Beomgyu doesn’t love you—not the way you love him.
The echoes of your wedding vows dance in your ears. For better or worse, you hear. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health.
Until death do us part.
Three families, known as the Choi Enterprises, dominate the landscape of your country.
Names synonymous with power, wealth, and control. Together, they form an empire that touches nearly every facet of life, businesses towering over the economy like unshakable pillars.
Untouchable.
The first family commands the skies. They own the nation’s largest airline, a fleet that spans lands, with Choi Yeonjun, the celebrated heir, poised to inherit it all.
The second family shapes the skyline with their sprawling malls, and colossal structures that symbolize luxury and excess. Choi Beomgyu, their only son, is the face of it.
And then there’s your family, the architects of indulgence. You own the most prestigious hotels in the country, five-star havens that host the rich, the famous, and the powerful. Your brother, Choi Soobin—the prodigy, the golden child who has been groomed for this role his entire life.
And then there’s you. The second child. Since young, you were conditioned, moulded; not to lead, not to build, but to belong to someone else. To be a wife. One whose marriage would serve a purpose, a bargaining chip in a deal that you have no voice to protest.
Every day since you came of age felt like walking on thin ice, never knowing when it would crack beneath you. You lived with the constant dread that your father could announce your engagement at any last moment. If you were lucky, perhaps it would be someone whose face you recognized, or someone whose name didn’t sound foreign on your lips.
The three families have stood side by side for decades, their ties intertwined by history and convenience. With the heirs of each family so close in age, it was inevitable that you all ended up in the same place: a ridiculously expensive university your families could buy their way into.
It was no surprise that you had known Choi Beomgyu since you were children. And that you've loved him since.
Though you could never quite pinpoint when it began.
Your nine-year-old eyes scanned the room, overwhelmed by the sea of adults towering over you. Too many big, tall people, too many unfamiliar faces. It was the first time your dad had brought you along, always choosing your older brother instead. Never you.
“Would you like something to eat, Y/N?” your nanny asked. You shook your head, distracted. You were trying to find your brother, the one you’d begged to follow today, only to lose him. You had thought this place would be exciting, but now, you would have preferred serving tea to your dolls.
This place wasn’t fun at all.
When your nanny got busy with a conversation, you seized the chance to slip away. You weaved through the crowd, ducking under tables when the adults became too dense. You spotted Soobin ahead, standing with his friend, Yeonja? No, Yeonjun. The one who teased you mercilessly whenever he visited your house. They were too far away.
Giggling with excitement, you ran towards them, eager to finally reach your brother. But your foot caught on the edge of a rug, and you fell hard. “Ow.” You whimpered, face smacking the floor. A sharp, stinging pain in your mouth made your eyes well up. You wiped at your lips and froze when your fingers brushed against something small and hard.
Your front tooth had come out. “No. Soobin, Daddy!” you wailed, embarrassment creeping in as people started to stare. You were about to shout again when a boy appeared, no taller than you, holding out a handkerchief.
“Use this,” he said.
“No,” you mumbled.
“Huh?”
“I said I don’t want it.”
He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Do you want everyone to think you’re ugly?” His words made you pause, his brown eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and something else... something protective. The way he stood, it was as if he was shielding you from the judgmental eyes around you. “If you keep crying like that, everyone will think you are.”
The bluntness startled you, and it worked. Your mommy doesn't like it whenever you're crying anyway. She says it's unsightly. You grabbed the handkerchief, sniffling as you dabbed at your mouth. He watched you stand wobbly, one brow raised in quiet observation.
“Soobin?” he asked, recognizing your brother’s name.
You nodded, surprised that he knew.
He nodded back, taking your pinkie in his small hand and leading you across the yard, toward your brother safely.
That day was the day you first met your husband.
"Hey, have you heard? Choi Beomgyu and Park Ji-won broke up for the fourth time this semester," Jake, one of your batchmates, announces with a grin, his voice cutting through the chatter of your little group. The names make you freeze mid-conversation. "It’s hilarious, bro. Ji-won was literally stomping her feet like a kid."
"You little scandalmonger," Ryu-jin quips from beside you, rolling her eyes. "Why are you so invested in them? They’re a batch ahead of us. We don’t even cross paths with them."
You won’t encounter Choi Beomgyu often. The last time you had a proper, civil conversation—one forced by your parents—was when you were fifteen, and even then, your brother had been there too. That was five years ago.
During your first year, Choi Beomgyu was in the second. He got a girlfriend, Park Ji-won, the queen bee of their batch. Beomgyu was already famous, and their relationship quickly gained a reputation of its own, known for its ups and downs, the drama playing out like a spectacle for everyone to watch.
“Uh, h-hi, Y/N.” A boy stammers nervously in front of you. You look up, surprised to see him holding out a small box of chocolates. “I… I made these for you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
A soft smile forms on your lips as you reach out to take it. “Thank you, Hanbin.”
The way his name rolls so easily off your tongue catches him off guard. His eyes widen, and his face flushes a deep shade of red. He stammers out something that might be “you’re welcome” before ducking his head in a quick bow and practically fleeing the scene.
As he disappears into the crowd, Ryu-jin lets out a low whistle, her grin mischievous. “Oh-ho, my ever-charming and impossibly kind Y/N,” she teases, pinching your cheek in a way that makes you laugh and bat her hand away.
You hold the box of chocolates out to her, and without missing a beat, she takes it with a delighted, “Don’t mind if I do!”
“Why do you always know everyone’s names?” Jake asks, leaning over to snag a piece of chocolate before Ryu-jin can stop him. He pops it into his mouth, then gives you a mock incredulous look. “There are way too many people trying to win you over. If I were you, I wouldn’t even bother keeping track.”
You chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t really try to memorize their names, Jake,” you explain, your voice softening. “But when someone puts themselves out there like that, when they go out of their way to do something kind for me, even if I don’t feel the same, the least I can do is acknowledge it. Knowing their name… it’s just part of respecting the effort they made.”
Jake leans back, arms crossed, pretending to look unimpressed. “You’re way too nice for your own good, you know that?”
The rest of the conversation became a blur. The details didn’t matter—they never really did. Choi Beomgyu had gotten back together with her again. That’s how it always went, didn’t it? Still, your mind dawdled on him, as it often did, bonded to a memory from so long ago: the boy with sceptic eyes and a hand who had guided you safely to your brother.
You couldn’t explain it fully, this quiet pull you felt toward him.
Maybe it was the way he kept to himself at gatherings, speaking only when necessary. His words always carried a weight your mother would later describe as "intelligent," her tone laced with rare approval. It could’ve been his eyes, dark and warm, matching the soft chaos of his hair. Or perhaps it was his low voice, that left a faint shiver dancing along your spine without warning.
Life had always been laid out for you, each piece polished and placed neatly on a silver platter. Nothing ever seemed truly exciting, not when you could have anything you wanted with minimal effort. You’d never been particularly interested in dating, either. Why chase something when the pursuit itself felt dull?
Choi Beomgyu was… different. He wasn’t even someone you could simply talk to. Maybe that’s why he fascinated you so much.
He's impossible to ignore.
"He's sick again… ugh."
The words grated on your nerves, cutting through the hallway like nails on a chalkboard. You were at your locker, minding your own business, stacking books into your bag. Ji-won’s loud voice, drew the attention of everyone within earshot.
You were ready to walk away from the nauseating cheap fog of their perfume, when her next words stopped you cold.
"Beomgyu's sick," she continued, tossing her hair back like it was some grand inconvenience to her. "We went shopping yesterday, and he lent me his umbrella when it rained. Now he's sick. Honestly, such an idiot move."
How could she talk about him like that? Here, in front of all these people, where anyone could hear?
"And I told him not to play basketball today," Ji-won added with a careless shrug. "I mean, it's not like some game is more important than my plans."
Some game? The basketball match wasn’t just some game—it was one of the biggest events of the year, something their team had poured weeks of practice into. And she expected him to ditch it for her whims?
The sharp clang of your locker shutting ripped through the air, louder than you intended when you closed it. The hallway fell silent. Ji-won flinched, startled by the sound, then turned, ready to snap at whoever dared interrupt her. But when her eyes met yours, the words died in her throat.
Your stare pinned her in place, unwavering. The entire hallway seemed to hold its breath, watching, waiting. Everyone knew better than to cross you, Choi trinity’s princess.
After a few long seconds, you broke eye contact, turned on your heel and walked away, each step of your Valentino sandals echoing with you.
As much as you wanted to speak, as much as the words burned at the back of your throat, you couldn’t. Because no matter how much Ji-won infuriated you, no matter how carelessly she spoke about him, this wasn’t your battle to fight.
You had no right to.
Beomgyu wasn’t yours to defend.
You body moved without thinking, pulling your phone out to call your driver. Medicine. Ingredients for a recovery soup. You listed everything quickly, your voice brisk to mask the slight shake in it.
Cooking had always been something you loved. There was a comfort in its simplicity—a recipe was just steps to follow, a methodical course that brought things to life. You liked how it could make someone happy, how it could bring warmth, even when words couldn’t.
When the ingredients arrived, you made your way to the university’s cooking room. It was meant for culinary students, but a single request to the club president had granted you access.
You tied your hair back, rolled up your sleeves and got to work. The familiar motions of chopping, stirring, and seasoning steadied you. The savoury aroma filled the room, spilling over into your senses. When the soup was done, you ladled it into a glass container, the warmth radiating through your hands. Perfect for the chilly wind outside.
It's no surprise that he got sick.
You packed it carefully, along with the medicine, into a small bag, and made your way toward his classroom. Sunghoon had told you where Beomgyu’s seat was, promising to keep it quiet. No one could know about this.
Not even Beomgyu himself.
The classroom was empty when you arrived, just as you’d hoped. Rows of desks stretched before you, soaked in the soft, dim light of late afternoon. Your steps faltered when you unexpectedly spotted him. You were about to turn around when you noticed he was asleep.
There he was, slumped over his desk, his head resting on folded arms. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, his face flushed with fever.
You swallowed hard, the sight tugging at something deep inside you. His eyelashes, dark and delicate, brushed against his cheeks, and for a moment, he looked so unguarded, so unlike the version of him you were used to seeing.
Slowly, you approached, placing the bag on the desk beside him with the utmost care, as if any sound might disturb him. But as much as you tried to stay quiet, the pounding of your heart seemed impossibly loud in the silence.
You stood there longer than you should have, your gaze lingering on the soft lines of his face. His fever-reddened cheeks, his slightly parted lips; he looked so vulnerable, so human in a way that made your chest ache.
Your breath caught as you turned to leave. It was hard to breathe in this room, hard to ignore the charm he had on you, even now. With one last glance at his sleeping form, you turned and walked out.
It felt like you were leaving your heart with him.
Beomgyu stirs awake, his body aching and cold, as if the chill had seeped into his skin. His head feels heavy, but a faint warmth near him pulls him in. He blinks sluggishly, there's—a container of soup resting on his desk.
Soup?
Confused but drawn to it, he sits up slowly, the movement making his head spin. His fingers tremble slightly as he uncaps the container, and the smell that greets him is like a hug he didn’t know he needed. His stomach rumbles in response.
His gaze drops to the items beside it: medicine, utensils, carefully placed. Whoever left this thought of everything.
He picks up the spoon, dipping it into the golden broth. Bringing it to his lips, he tastes it. His eyes widen, a soft sound escaping him—surprised. It’s incredible.
It reminds him of his mother’s cooking, back when she still had time to make him meals. A strange fullness settles in his chest as he takes another spoonful, the warmth spreading, chasing away the numbness. He can’t stop eating—it’s too good.
“Babe?”
The sound of Ji-won’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He looks up as she walks in, holding two water bottles. Her eyes land on the container in his hands, her expression flickering with something unreadable.
“Oh,” she says casually, stepping closer.
Beomgyu smiles, his lips curving softly, his voice lighter than it’s been all day. “Did you make this?” he asks, hope threading through his tone. “It’s amazing. Seriously, it’s… it’s so good. Fucking delicious.”
Ji-won blinks, startled by his enthusiasm. He was grumpy and on edge all day because of his fever. Who left this? she wonders, panic flickering beneath her composed exterior, her gaze darts to the container again, then back to Beomgyu, who’s looking at her expectantly.
“Oh, yeah—yeah!” she blurts, forcing a bright smile. “Of course, I made it.”
Beomgyu tilts his head, surprised. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Anything for my boyfriend,” Ji-won replies, stepping closer as she places the water bottles on his desk. Her smile feels tight, but she pushes through. “That’s how much I love you.”
He chuckles softly, eating a spoonful again. “Well, I love it. Thank you for this. It made me feel so much better.”
That wasn’t the last time.
You told yourself it would be. Swore it, even. No more going out of your way for him. No more small, secret gestures. But every time you thought it was over, you found yourself pulled back in, like some invisible thread tying you to him.
It started with the soup. The day after you left it, you saw him. His face, pale and tired the day before, was flushed with warmth again, life returning to his features. Sunghoon mentioned, almost offhandedly, how Beomgyu wouldn’t stop bragging about the meal, how he raved about it like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
And something about that stuck with you.
From then on, it became quite a bad habit. Throughout college, whenever you heard he was sick, you found yourself leaving small comforts behind. A bottle of tea on his desk, sweets slipped into his lockers during a lecture. And it didn’t stop there.
One time, Beomgyu forgot something important; a book, a charger, you don’t even remember now. You lent yours to Sunghoon, pretending you didn’t care, pretending it wasn’t just another way to help Beomgyu without him knowing.
Because you didn't want anything back.
When rumors spread about him sneaking around with his girlfriend, you stepped in before it escalated. His father will be angry about it, so you talked to that person who caught him, not for his sake but for your own, because the thought of his world unraveling in front of him was something you couldn’t bear to witness.
At least, that’s what you told yourself.
It wasn’t for him. It couldn’t be.
It was for you.
The way your eyes scanned every room at social gatherings, always searching for his familiar face in the crowd. The way you couldn’t relax until you caught sight of him or the way your heart jumped whenever you spotted him, even if he didn’t notice you.
It was an addiction. One you couldn’t seem to break, no matter how many times you promised yourself you’d let go.
Were you in love with him for those four years? Or was it more than that?
"As you already know, this is Y/N, son," Beomgyu's mother announces, her perfectly manicured hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Beomgyu’s gaze meets yours. His hair is longer now, sitting at the edges of his sharp jawline, almost to his shoulders—much different to how you remember him last, on his graduation day. A whole year has passed since then. And you've graduated now too.
His suit; a dark blue so deep it could pass for black, fits him perfectly, exuding quiet sophistication. In contrast, your white Balmain dress feels almost too bright, too bold, clinging to you in a way that leaves no room for subtlety. You feel exposed under his probing eyes.
This morning, your mother had insisted—no, demanded—that you wear an elegant dress. You hadn’t understood why, but now the reason stands clear.
Beside you, your brother Soobin sits rigid, yet observing. He’s always been offensive, and tonight is no exception.
The two Choi family heads are deep in conversation, their voices low but purposeful, like they’re planning something big. It’s just the two families here tonight, seated at an impossibly long table in an equally expensive restaurant. The grandeur of the setting only amplifies it—the entire floor of this lavish place reserved just for this dinner, the emptiness around you making it feel more like a stage than a private meal.
“Your marriage will take place at the end of the year,” Beomgyu’s father declares. The words snap you out of your daze, and your head jerks toward him in shock. A soft gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it.
“What?” Beomgyu’s voice is sharp. His jaw tightens when he leans forward, composure beginning to crack. “You made me end things with Ji-won last week, and now you’re telling me I’m engaged?” He practically spits the words, hands curl into fists on the table. “To someone I don’t even know?”
Ji-won. You flinch involuntarily, hands dropping to your lap. You start picking at your nailbeds. The air feels thick—too thick to breathe.
“Who is that?” Beomgyu’s father demands, his tone filled with disdain. “I told you not to mention that whore again.” His words are venomous, and you barely have time to register the insult before the sound of Beomgyu’s chair scraping against the polished floor reverberates through the room.
Everyone flinches as he rises, his movements full of suppressed fury. Your heart pounds. He stands there seething, glaring at his father, everyone staring, daring for him to do something before he turns on his heel.
You bite your bottom lip, trying to hold yourself together. The sting in your chest is undeniable. Disappointment wells up, as Beomgyu's actions fill the silence you can’t bear to break, your gaze fixed anywhere but the head table. Soobin’s hand suddenly moves into your line of sight, prying yours apart gently—stopping you from further tormenting your hands. His fingers curl around yours, tight.
Beomgyu's retreating footsteps echo, each one louder than the last, leaving a charged silence in their wake.
The next time you see him is on your wedding day.
You didn’t think it would happen like this. You truly didn’t. You’d clung to the faint hope that he’d at least show up before the ceremony—just once. You went to the fittings alone, picked out the rings by yourself, and stood in bakeries surrounded by couples, as you chose the cake flavour on your own. A conversation, even a brief one, might have eased the unease that had settled in your chest like a stone.
Maybe, when the time comes, you’ll work up the courage to ask him if he can at least try to be casual with you.
But every assurance came from his parents, empty promises that fell on ears too tired to process anymore. Your parents clung to those words, desperate for this union. A necessary marriage, they said. A solution.
None of it reassured you. How could it, when the groom himself was nowhere to be found? You never saw him.
It was as though you were preparing to marry a ghost.
When he finally sees you, it’s as you walk down the aisle, dressed in a gown that feels heavier than it should. His gaze lands on you, a one-second glance that’s gone before you can even register it. He doesn’t look at you again. Not during the vows, not during the ceremony, not even as you both stand side by side, bound by words you barely believe.
And now, instead of his arms around you, you find yourself sobbing into your brother’s shoulder. Soobin holds you tightly. The irony was funny—it was Soobin, the whole reason to why Beomgyu was introduced to you all those years ago.
Beomgyu, the boy who returned you safely to your brother that night, the one who left a permanent mark so indelible it stayed for years. The same mark that now hurts you, refusing to fade no matter how many years passed.
It's cruel.
Happy 26th birthday baby girl! xoxo
You smiled faintly at Ryujin's text as you stirred the pancake batter you'd made from scratch. The comforting smell of vanilla and butter filled the kitchen, your kitchen.
As much as you endured your parents' endless whims, you had to admit, you loved the simplicity of domesticity. There was something grounding about it. It made you feel useful, capable, like you could create something perfect, even in a life that often felt far from it.
"Y/N." The sound of your name broke your focus. You looked up, catching Beomgyu standing at the doorway. He was already dressed in his usual impeccably tailored suit, his fingers fiddling with the knot of his tie. "I'm heading to the office early today,"
"Again?" Your voice was softer than you'd intended. "At least have breakfast before you go. I can finish this quickly."
"Thank you," he dismissed, gaze shifting away. Avoiding yours. Reminding you the line that's stretched between you cannot ever cross. "But I'll eat at the office. I don't want to be late. I might be back for dinner later. Maybe."
He adjusted his tie one last time, nodded in your direction, and walked out without another word. The soft click of it closing behind him felt louder than it should have.
You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. It was fine. You were used to this. Not because he left early again, but because it was an important day for you. A day you’d spend, once again, without him. Another day spent in the quiet of this too-big penthouse, with no one but yourself for company.
Two years into your marriage, you had learned to temper your expectations. Love was never meant to be part of the deal, and you had told yourself, over and over, that you didn’t need it. But no amount of reason could stop your heart from aching, from yearning—for Beomgyu to see you. Not as a piece of some agreement or a cog in the machinery of alliances, but as a person. As you.
Maybe even as a friend.
He wasn’t unkind. Not once had he raised his voice or shown you disrespect. But in some ways, his indifference stung more. He was here, yet not here, like a shadow that lived in the same space but never touched yours.
And sometimes, you wished that he would be mean to you, he would shout at you or he would hurt you—at least then, there would be something to feel. You hate that you gave him power over yourself.
You told your mother about it, you never saw your parents love each other, not in a way that felt real, not in front of you. She offered one thing that made sense to you.
Someday, you'll have children, and your child will give you a new purpose. You wanted to push back, to argue, but the next words stopped you cold—“Because if being an invisible wife isn’t enough, your children will see you.” You didn’t want to bring a child into this, into a life painted in shades of grey. An innocent child shouldn’t have to bear it. A child born not out of love? The thought made your chest tighten.
And yet, in the darkest, most desperate corners of your mind, another voice whispered something wicked. A voice that insisted maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
You sighed, finding the courage to pick up the spoon to eat, imagining a child sitting across from you, soft brown eyes mirroring his.
Alone, but somehow, it felt a little less lonely.
"Boss, there's a party later. It's Mr. Yoon's farewell dinner."
Beomgyu glanced up from his laptop, his secretary’s voice pulling him from the post-meeting haze. Mr. Yoon; one of his father’s most loyal employees, someone who had been with the company for years. Letting this occasion go unnoticed wasn’t an option, not for someone like him.
Later that evening, Beomgyu arrived at the resto-bar, the space already alive with the hum of laughter and conversation. As soon as he stepped inside, heads turned. Employees greeted him with a mix of respect and warmth, but his smile, though polite, didn’t reach his eyes. It was business, like always. When someone announced that the night’s tab was on him, a wave of cheers erupted, but Beomgyu barely reacted. He offered only a nod before grabbing a beer and retreating into his thoughts. Are you asleep—
"Omg, Beomgyu?"
The familiar voice jolted him. He turned his head sharply, and there she was—Ji-won. Her platinum blonde bleached hair gleamed under the bar lights, her lips curved into a playful smile. She looked almost the same, except more polished. She hadn’t changed much, down to the way her manicured fingers grazed her cheek as she tucked her hair behind her ears.
"It's you! I haven't seen you in what, two years? Almost?" she said, her tone bright, her lashes fluttering in the way she knew he once liked.
"Yeah," Beomgyu replied curtly, his voice neutral. "Nice to see you here." He grabbed his beer and took a long sip. Her laugh rang out, light and infectious, the same laugh that used to feel like heaven to him. She knew exactly what to do, exactly how to pull him in.
Beomgyu raised his beer and took a long sip again, letting the alcohol burn its way down. He probably should go now. Her friends surrounded them, teasing and nudging, playful comments flying back and forth. He stayed composed, answering in clipped sentences, trying to keep his distance.
He just needs to find the time to excuse himself.
But at some point, her friends drifted away, leaving her behind; drunk and alone, leaning heavily against the table. Beomgyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could have left her there. Maybe he should have. But instead, he found himself walking over.
"Come on," he said quietly, offering his hand. "Let me take you home."
She looked up at him, her eyes glassy but soft, and smiled. It was a smile that used to mean so much more.
Her warm hands envelop his.
The drive to her address was heavy with silence. Ji-won kept glancing at him, her eyes longing, but Beomgyu stayed focused on the road. Her address glowed faintly from his phone’s GPS. When they arrived, he got out, rounding the car to help her. She wobbled slightly, her drunken state evident, but he steadied her without a word and walked her to her door. She didn’t let go of his arm.
As they reached her doorstep, she turned to him, her voice trembling, raw. “Did you forget all about me already?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “Because… because I haven’t. It's still you, Beomgyu. I still love you.”
The words stopped him cold. He looked at her then, really looked at her. The faint blush on her cheeks, the way her hair fell messily over her shoulders, and that familiar scent of her perfume. Memories flashed. The way she’d cried when he said goodbye. The way she’d begged him to stay, her arms wrapped around him like she could keep him forever. He remembered the way he had talked to his father—looking for any chance. Only to be met with a no. A hard, unrelenting no.
It was too much. She's too familiar.
He's too close.
And then, she leaned in.
Her lips touched his, soft just like they used to be. He shouldn’t. But when the small of her hands gripped the lapels of his suit, pulling him closer, he kissed her back.
It wasn’t gentle—it was desperate, messy, like trying to reclaim something lost. Her body pressed against his, and the sound of her soft moan made him grip her arms. He presses her against the door. Her hands tried to open the front door for them to go inside. It felt like a reunion, a fleeting taste of something they weren’t supposed to have.
But then she whispered against his lips, “Do you think we’d be married now if your father hadn’t stopped us?”
The word married hit him, made him open his eyes, freezing in place.
He pulled away, his breath ragged, staring at her. His lips still burned with the sin of hers. What the hell was he doing?
Ji-won stared at him, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “Beomgyu—” she started, but he shook his head, taking another step back.
“I… I can’t,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.
Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked away, his steps hurried and uneven. She reached for him—called his name, voice crying, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
All he could see was your face.
At home. Waiting for him. Leaning to the countertop with your stupidly sweet unnecessary smile. The crinkle by your eyes. It flashes over and over, drowning out everyone, and everything else.
Beomgyu gets into his car, his hands trembling as he fumbles with the keys. The engine roars to life with an urgency that matches his racing thoughts.
His grip tightens on the wheel as the image of Ji-won flashes in his mind. Her words. Her touch. The kiss. His stomach churns. What the hell was he thinking? Did he still love her?
The elevator ride to your floor feels agonizingly slow, every second stretching endlessly. He can barely hear his own breathing over the pounding of his heart. When the doors open, he steps out hesitantly, his footsteps dragging as he approaches the front door.
He pauses in the entryway, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you.
He sees you.
You're curled up on the couch, your head resting on a pillow, a blanket draped loosely over your legs. His eyes dart on the kitchen, there sits a plate of untouched food, now cold.
Dinner. You still made him dinner.
His chest tightens. You waited for him. Despite everything, despite the fact that he’d made no promises, despite the countless nights like this, you still waited.
How? he thinks, his mind reeling. How could you wait for him, when he hadn't given you anything to hold on to?
He glances at the clock on the wall. 6 a.m. His jaw clenches. He hadn’t even noticed the time had passed. He’d been so caught up at the party, so lost in the haze of old memories and poor decisions, that he’d forgotten about you entirely.
He steps closer, his gaze softening as it falls on your face. You look peaceful, your breathing even, your features illuminated by the dim light filtering in from the window. There’s something unfamiliar stirring in his chest.
The urge to reach out, to touch you, is overwhelming. But as his eyes fall to your lips, a shameful reminder washes over him, he knows that his lips had been with someone else only minutes ago.
It would be cruel to let it stain the divine of your skin.
“Come here,” Beomgyu spoke, which made you look at him through the mirror for a couple of seconds before seeing him beckon you over. You walked towards him, about to sit on the edge of the bed, when he grabbed your arm and sat you between his thighs.
“What is it?” you asked softly. You felt his arms tighten slightly around you, his fingers brushing the fabric of your robe. He hadn’t spoken to you all day, hadn’t so much as looked at you too. You just got out of your shower when you saw him sitting in your bed. And now, here he was—unexpected, yet demanding this closeness.
He didn’t answer. Instead, his lips pressed against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his breath, warm against your skin. His hand slid slowly from your waist to your side, tracing the outline of your frame. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. You knew what this was. What he wanted. What he was about to do.
This was the pattern you had grown to recognise. The times he came to you like this, seeking the comfort your body could offer. The way his touch made you feel seen. And when morning came, like always, he would retreat—pulling away, storms behind his eye, leaving you to wrestle with the hollow ache in your chest.
Nights like this made it hurt more.
“Nothing.” He says. You felt his hand caress your thigh as he kisses your shoulder. He turns you around. He licked his lips before letting it explore the inside of your mouth, making you moan. He grunts in your mouth as his hand snakes to the inside of your thighs, kneading the soft flesh.
He pushes his clothed crotch to your heat. He removes the top part of your robe, his lips easily finding themselves on your nipple, kissing around it before hungrily latching his mouth on it. The feeling of his wet tongue circling your bead and the growing tent on his pants rubbing on you made your body heat up.
You should push him away.
But then he looked up into your eyes, almost begging. It's soft, glassy which makes you wonder if you're ever going to see it other than like this. At that moment, the truth hit you: this was all he could offer. This collision, the press of his skin against yours—this was all you’d ever have of him. The pain intensified. He goes up and captures your lips again.
“I want to be inside you,” he murmured against your kisses. Fine, you thought. Just this once more—one last time. You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back gently, turned around and got on all fours. You arched your back, pressing your head onto the mattress. Your ass was in the air, and you were exposed to him. Hearing him move behind you made you close your eyes.
Beomgyu was shocked. For you to offer yourself like this, so quickly, caught him off guard. He blinked, taking in the curve of your back, and the way you presented yourself.
You felt his tip rub against your folds and swollen clit, making you whine. He pulled your legs farther apart before plunging two fingers to make sure you were ready to take him.
You moaned, feeling his long fingers massage your walls. Your wetness trickled on his hand, and it only made him harder. He sucked his fingers when he pulled out. You felt every inch, his cock reaching places that made your body arch instinctively beneath.
It burns, and it burns so good.
“You're always fucking tight.” He kneads your ass cheeks, thrusting slowly at first before gradually increasing in speed. You felt so full as he pushed into you. He reached for your clit as you buried your face into the pillow. “Y/N…” His hard cock reaches the deepest parts of you. Beomgyu flipped your body without warning, and your arm immediately flew to your face. You turned your face away from him, not knowing that he’s been observing you.
You’ve been hiding your face the whole time as much as you can. Seeing his eyes felt unbearable. Because meeting his eyes will make you want him. To want him more than this. Something he will never be able to give.
“Y/N…I want to see your face.” He grabbed your hand to move them away, and Beomgyu felt a pang in his chest when he saw your swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You were sobbing underneath him.
“Please…” Your voice cracked, barely a whisper. “Just make me cum. Okay?”
You were breaking your own heart, chasing his own. And as he stared down at you, his indifference, the wall he’d built so carefully around himself, was killing you.
“What's wrong?” He urges you. His thrusts are unceasing as tears continue to fall down from your eyes. “Y/N…” Your orgasm hits you hard. Your toes curled as you cried out his name. Your walls were squeezing his cock. He grunts at how tight you feel around him. His hands were gripping the back of your knees as his hips stuttered, about to reach his own climax.
Even as he continued to move, his pace sloppy and desperate, your quiet sobs filled the room, uncontrollable. Beomgyu stilled above you, his heart twisting painfully at the sound. He hated himself—hated the way he’d reduced you to this.
You feel his hot cum inside you. When he finally pulled away, he collapsed beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. His unsure eyes drifted to you, curled up in the blankets, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle your cries. You moved your whole body under the sheets, clung to the fabric like it was the only thing holding you together.
Hiding. Hiding from the one who was supposed to be your other half.
The sight of you like this made his throat tighten, his chest heavy with something he couldn’t put into words. He had never wanted to hurt you, yet here you were.
That night, Beomgyu lay unable to find sleep, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling of your bedroom walls. You were an angel, one he had broken with his own hands.
You wake up, heart racing.
Your hands instinctively move to your face. It’s that dream again. The same one that’s haunted you night after night. The memory of him. That night. The last time Beomgyu touched you. It’s been just over four weeks.
Even in sleep, he doesn’t let you go.
You blinked, your surroundings blurry in the faint light of your room. How did you get here? You were sure you’d fallen asleep on the couch. The question barely settles before an uneasy twist in your stomach pulls you back to the present. A wave of nausea rushes through you, sharp and sudden.
Your hand flies to your mouth as you scramble out of bed, your legs barely keeping up as you dart to the bathroom. You made it just in time, collapsing onto your knees as your body seized itself forward. The bitter taste burned your throat, each heave leaving you weaker than the last. You sat there, gripping the cool edge of the toilet, tears slipping silently down your cheeks.
You pushed yourself up, legs still shaky, and made your way to the sink. The cold water was a welcome distraction, splashing against your skin and dripping down in rivulets. You scrubbed at your face harder than you needed to, as if the water could somehow rinse away more than just the sweat clinging to your skin.
Grabbing a towel, you patted your face dry, letting your gaze drift to the untouched box of tampons sitting quietly on the shelf.
“Y/N?” The knock on your door startled you. Tossing the towel aside, you stepped out of the small bathroom and crossed the room to open the door.
There he stood, his dark eyes locking onto yours the second the door opened. He scanned your face. “Are… are you okay? I heard a loud thump.” His voice was uneven, like he wasn’t sure he should even be asking.
“I’m fine,” you said quickly. You moved to step past him, but the moment you did, he took a cautious step back, his body shifting as though he couldn’t bear to be too close.
It stung, but you didn’t let it show. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No,” he replies, eyes darting to the vases on the table. “You got flowers?” Beomgyu’s stares on your face. The way your face softens at the mention of them, he notices it instantly. He doesn’t like it, not one bit.
“They were given to me.”
“Two dozen?” he presses, “By who?”
“Soobin,”
“And?” he asks again, though there’s no need. He already knows who.
“Yeonjun,” The name lands heavy between you.
His jaw tightens. “He dropped them off here yesterday? Why did—” His words tumble out quickly, too quickly.
Because it's your birthday.
“He was with Soobin, Beomgyu,” you interrupt, brushing past him toward the refrigerator. Your steps feel heavier than they should Blinking, you try to push the swelling emotions back down. Normally, you’d brush this off. So why does it feel so different today? Why are you getting emotional? You pull out a bottle of water, taking a long sip to steady yourself before asking, “What time did you come home yesterday?”
Silence.
You drink slowly, giving him time to answer, but he doesn’t. The room feels stifling in the stillness, the hum of the refrigerator suddenly too loud. You set your empty glass on the table with a dull thud, your eyes drifting back to him.
He’s standing there in his usual morning look, white shirt hanging loose, black pyjama pants slightly wrinkled. His hair is a mess from sleep, and his skin looks paler in the soft light. There’s something about how vulnerable he looks in the mornings that always catches you off guard.
He's painfully beautiful.
“Around the morning,” He's hesitant. He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t meet your eyes, and the tightness in your chest only grows. There’s an ugly nagging feeling at the edges of your thoughts.
“I’ll go get ready for work,” he says, shutting the conversation before it even has a chance to go further.
It doesn't surprise you anymore.
You step into the opulent glow of the five-star Skyline Restaurant, the clink of fine china and hushed laughter swirled around. Fingers gripping your white Dior purse, you scan the room, heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Your eyes sweep over faces until a familiar one stops you in your tracks.
“Pretty girl.” Ryujin’s voice called out, smooth and warm. She raises a hand in a poised wave, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. You mirror her expression, weaving your way toward her. Heads turn as you pass, your perfume is delicate yet potent.
“How are you?” she asks as you reach her, gaze soft yet probing.
“I’m okay,” you reply, sinking into the plush couch across from her. The tension in your shoulders eases, if only slightly. “Thank you for the gifts, by the way. And I’m sorry I couldn’t meet up with you yesterday, like you wanted.”
“I understand.” Her reply is casual, but her eyes betray her. They flicker to the dark crescents under yours, the ones you’ve tried to conceal but can never quite hide. “It’s always him, isn’t it? At the end of the day.”
Your fingers wrap around the porcelain cup in front of you. The tea is hot against your palms, and you take a tentative sip. It tasted faintly of jasmine, soothing and bittersweet. The silence between you stretches.
“Y/N.” Her voice pulls you back, insistent. Your eyes meet hers, and for a moment, you can’t look away. “He’s the reason you’re like this. It doesn't have to be, but he made it this way. You see that, don’t you?”
"I know."
Ryujin’s eyes flickered with hesitation, the way someone falters before delivering a blow. Eyes darting between you and the untouched tea in front of her. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she began, her voice soft but unsteady. “But I… I heard something.”
Her words made your heart clench. “What is it?”
“I mean, I’m not completely sure, but it came from someone I trust and—”
“Ryujin,” you snapped, sharper than you intended. Your chest tightened as dread crept in. “Tell me.”
She hesitated, her lips parting slightly before closing again. “Did he spend the night with you yesterday?”
You felt the world shift under your feet. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Your silence was enough.
He wasn't.
Ryujin’s expression softened, pity creeping into her features, “I—there was a party,” she said, her voice quieter now, hesitant. “One with Beomgyu and Ji-won.”
The name made your stomach drop.
“They were together all night,” she said, her words rushed, like she wanted to get them out before she lost her nerve. “And someone… someone saw them. Beomgyu practically carried her into his car. They left together.”
Your vision blurred for a second, the edges of the room fading as her words registered. You forced yourself to blink, to breathe. “Oh,” you whispered.
Ryujin stood abruptly and moved to sit beside you, taking your trembling hands into hers. “Confront him,” she urged. “Find out if it’s true.” She squeezed your hands. “I’m so tired of seeing you like this. Always giving and giving while he takes whatever’s left of you.” Her voice cracked. “Loving him silently. Loving him so hard isn’t going to make him love you back.”
You didn’t even realise you were crying until the tears started dripping onto your lap, soaking into the fabric of your dress. Ryujin hated it. She remembered you in college; how you laughed so freely, how your eyes sparkled. But now, that light she admired so much was dimming, as if someone had reached inside you and quietly stolen it piece by piece.
Ryujin swallowed hard, blinking back her own tears as she watched yours fall. How hurt must you be to cry like this—without a sound, without even a gasp? Just the quiet, stream of tears slipping down your face, carving paths of pain?
She hated seeing you like this, hated how one person had managed to turn the full-bloomed, radiant version of you into a shadow of yourself, a bud closed off to the world.
That someone can easily break you, when you spent years building yourself.
You're waiting.
It's 10 p.m. The hours have crawled by since you drove back here. You look around. This space, where you are supposed to build a family, where love is supposed to be—is nothing but a cold place to you.
You're sitting on the couch, the same couch you’ve spent countless nights on, staring at the clock, waiting for him. Your hands rest in your lap, trembling slightly, though you don’t realise it. With nothing but fear, the fear that you’re losing something you never truly had.
Your phone buzzes again. Two names alternate, calling over and over. You don’t pick up. You don’t even look. You can’t.
Because the truth is, you don’t know if you’ll make it through the night without hearing from him. Your husband.
The elevator dings softly, and Beomgyu steps into the penthouse. His tie hangs loose around his neck, his hair tousled and far from his usual pristine self. He looks tired, distracted—like he’s been anywhere but here. His eyes met yours.
"Why are you still awake—"
"Do you think I don’t know what you’ve done?" Your voice cuts, trembling. You see his eyes widen, just a fraction. It’s so small you almost missed it.
"Ji-won." Her name burns as it leaves your mouth, bitter. His eyes flicker toward you for just a second, a split second, just long enough to know that he heard, but there is nothing in them. Nothing.
He moves with calculated slowness, setting his bag down on the table, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Time ticked. He doesn’t even try to explain. Doesn’t even look at you long enough for you to find a trace of the man you once thought you knew. His thumb brushes over his ring like it’s something he’s forgotten. A ring that should have meant forever.
"I can handle it all, Choi Beomgyu," you say, your voice firmer now, though your hands tremble at your sides. "I’ve handled it all, haven’t I? I didn’t say anything when you kept talking about her, days after we got married, on our honeymoon, or right in front of your family."
His back stiffens, his hands gripping the edge of the countertop. Beomgyu swallows the lump in his throat.
"Not once in these two years did I tell you how small you made me feel, how you made me feel like I didn’t belong in your world. Like I was a stranger in my own marriage." Your voice cracks, but you keep going. "I stayed silent, And after all of that, after everything, I stayed. I stayed because I thought… maybe it was enough. And yet, you still chose to cheat on me?"
You’re shaking now, and your voice rises despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "If you had just come to me and said you didn’t want this anymore, I would’ve let you go. I would’ve walked away, Beomgyu. Because everything I’ve done, every single thing, has been for you. For this marriage. For our families."
His head finally lifts, and his eyes meet yours. You hate how you feel small under his gaze, how his silence feels like a condemnation of your own vulnerability.
Beomgyu swallows hard, his jaw tightening. "That’s not what happened, Y/N."
"That you didn’t go home with her? That you weren’t with her on my fucking birthday?"
Your words hit him like a punch, and his eyes widen, the crack in his composure visible now.
"What?"
"You heard me." The burden festering inside you for so long is finally out. It feels small, inadequate even, but you don’t care anymore. You can’t. You can feel his eyes on you, and it's your turn to refuse to meet them. You’re done searching his face for answers that will never come.
You rise from the couch, your movements sharp, fueled by hurt and exhaustion. Steps are quick, your breaths are shallow as you reach your room. The door slams shut behind you with a force that echoes behind. Your hands tremble as you swipe on your phone. Tears blur your vision, falling onto the screen as you scroll, fingers fumbling to find the number you need.
You don’t think. You can’t. The tears are hot and relentless, burning tracks down your cheeks as you press the call button.
The line clicks immediately.
Outside your room, Beomgyu stands in the hallway, pacing back and forth. His footsteps are uneven, restless. The truth is, he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know where to begin. Every time he tries to form the words in his head, they fall apart before they can leave his lips.
How can he explain it? How can he make you understand? He never thought it would come to this, never thought he’d have to say it out loud. He’d always believed he could keep it buried, that you’d never find out.
He presses a hand to his forehead, exhaling sharply. He hasn’t spoken to Ji-won since that night. Not once. She tried to reach out; texts, calls, even showing up unannounced, but he shut it all down. He shut her out.
The irony isn’t lost on him. He, who once was hopelessly in love with her had turned his back on her entirely. What surprised him the most was how easy it was. All it took was thinking of you.
And the sight of your tears now terrifies him.
Beomgyu has always been a confident man. He was raised to be one. It’s who he was taught to be the man who could command a room, close deals, deliver speeches without a stutter. But none of that matters now. Standing here, in front of your door, he feels small. Helpless. Negotiating with the world is one thing; facing the pain in your eyes is another.
He sighs, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration. His chest feels tight, his mind racing. He should knock. He knows he should try, should say something, anything.
He lifts his hand to knock, but the door swings open before he can. Your eyes meet his—red, swollen, glassy with unshed tears—and it feels like the air is knocked out of him. Beomgyu's chest tightens painfully, and then his gaze falls to the suitcase in your hand,"Where are you going?"
You don’t answer. Instead, you step past him, avoiding even the smallest brush against him. The sound of your suitcase wheels echoes in the hall. His heart stutters, his feet frozen in place.
"Y/N," he pleads, reaching for your wrist. His eyes flicker down to your hand, and the absence of your ring feels like a blow he wasn’t ready for.
"Beomgyu," you say quietly, pulling your hand away from his grasp. "I’m going to stay with my brother for a while."
You don’t wait for his response. You can’t. If you stop now—if you meet his eyes again—you might change your mind. You walk toward the elevator, heart pounding, and breaking, but you don’t look back. When he doesn’t follow, when he doesn’t try to stop you, it cracks a little more.
The elevator doors begin to close, you think that’s it. This is the end. But then, his hand darts between the doors, forcing them open. You glance up in surprise. You've never seen him this unsure, or nervous before.
"At least let me see you out," he says softly. "Please,"
He stares at you. You nod, stepping aside to make room for him. Neither of you speaks, and the distance between you feels impossibly wide, even in the small space.
"Call me if you ever want to talk again," he finally breaks the silence, eyes fixed on the ground, "I’ll wait for you," You don’t respond, your throat tightening as you stare straight ahead, willing yourself not to cry.
Perhaps, it is his turn to wait for you.
It’s the longest elevator ride of your life.
In the parking lot, your brother is the first thing you see—tall and imposing, his glasses doing nothing to soften the sharp frown etched across his face. His eyes sweep over you, landing on the suitcase in your hand before darting behind you. The worry darkens instantly into anger when he sees Beomgyu trailing a few steps behind.
"You fucker," Soobin spits, brushing past you to square off with him. His voice is cold and furious. Beomgyu doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down, even as your brother towers over him.
"I gave you the benefit of the doubt," Soobin growls. "I thought, at the very least, you’d treat my sister with the respect she deserves. But you—"
"Soobin, stop!" You step forward, your hands desperately reaching out to hold your brother’s fists clenched at his sides. "Please, let’s just go."
He hesitates, jaw tightening as he swallows his anger. With a final, scathing glare at Beomgyu, Soobin turns away. He reached for your suitcase, grabbed it without a word and shoved it into the trunk of his car. Then he opens the passenger door, his expression softening ever so slightly as he looks at you. "Get inside."
You slide into the car, your hands trembling as you clutch them in your lap. Soobin slams the door shut behind you, the sound shouting in the empty parking lot like a final warning.
Beomgyu stands there eyes never leaving your form, unmoving, as the car engine roars to life. His chest feels like it’s caving in as he watches Soobin pull away, the tyres screeching against the pavement. It’s almost insulting, the way the sound seems to echo his own turmoil.
His eyes follow the car until it vanishes from sight, leaving nothing but silence and the crushing weight of knowing you’re gone.
Beomgyu steps back, dragging his feet to somehow delay the reality settling in around him. Every few steps, he glances over his shoulder, the faintest flicker of hope burning in his chest. Maybe you’d be there. Maybe you’d come back.
Maybe this was just a nightmare he hadn’t woken up from yet.
But you didn't.
The elevator doors slide open, and he strides inside, his mind blank and racing all at once. He walks, heading straight to the kitchen for water, something to soothe the dryness in his throat, the tightness in his chest. But as he passes the living room, his eyes catch on the portrait hanging above the mantel.
The wedding photo.
It hangs on there, just as it always has, but tonight it feels unbearable. His eyes lock on your face, and he falters. How could he have missed it? The slight redness in your eyes, the way your smile looks stretched too thin. How can a bride look so unhappy? How did it take him this long to realise how beautiful you looked that day, despite everything? How could he have failed to tell you?
How could he have been so blind?
He wasn’t the only one hurting that day. You had to stand there, dressed in white, while he grieved for someone else. On the day that was supposed to be yours, his mind had been somewhere else, tangled in memories of a woman who wasn’t you. And he never talked to you about it, not once. He never told you what you needed to hear. That it wasn’t your fault. That none of it was your fault.
He blinks hard, his vision blurring. The cracks were always there, weren’t they? Small at first, almost invisible, but they spread, creeping through everything until you were barely holding on. And he didn’t see it. He didn’t see you. Now, he stares at the picture like it might give him some kind of answer, some kind of clue to undo it all, but all it does is make the ache in his chest grow sharper.
He wished he had known. He wished he had known that the hurt consuming him would fade. He wished he could’ve said it all sooner, when the chance was still there. To tell you the truth. That he indeed had kissed her. That it was a mistake. He should have fallen to his knees and begged you to forgive him.
Would it have made a difference? Could one moment of honesty, one action, one choice have been enough to hold you here, to make you stay?
"Fuck," His voice was unsteady, tears stinging his eyes—tears he didn’t even know he was capable of. He can’t remember the last time he cried. Maybe he never has. He never cried. His hand moves on instinct, reaching for the cabinet, but instead of a glass, his fingers close around the neck of the whisky bottle. Water won’t cut it tonight. He twists the cap off, letting it fall to the counter with a hollow clink, and takes a long, burning sip.
It doesn't dull anything. Not yet. So he drinks.
It’s only been an hour, barely even that, since you left, but it feels like his world is already collapsing.
You wake up groggy, your head spinning and eyes feeling heavy. You can’t remember when you fell asleep or even how. You shift on the bed, Soobin must have carried you here.
Right. You’re at his place now.
"Y/N, you awake?" your brother’s voice carries down the hall, accompanied by the mouthwatering smell of bacon. Your stomach growls unexpectedly. You drag yourself out of bed, splash water on your face in the bathroom, and head out of the room.
“Good morning,” you mumble, stepping into the kitchen. The sight of Soobin setting down a plate of pancakes and Yeonjun grinning at you makes your chest feel warm.
Yeonjun stands and strides over, wrapping you in a tight hug. His hugs are always the warmest. He’s your brother’s best friend, someone who’s been in your life long enough to feel like family. He's known you since you were children, and you see him as your own brother.
He rests his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to the table as the corners of your lips tug into a soft smile you can’t seem to hold back. You sit down, and Soobin begins piling food onto your plate.
"Do you have any plans today?" Soobin asks casually, his focus still on divvying up breakfast.
“None, really,” you reply, your attention entirely on the bacon in front of you. Your stomach practically growls in anticipation, and without waiting, you dig in.
A little too eagerly, apparently. You choke, coughing as you try to swallow too quickly.
Yeonjun’s reaction is immediate, he’s already filling a glass of water before you even finish coughing. He places it in front of you and grabs a few napkins, sliding them your way with a concerned look. “Slow down, Y/N,” he says, his tone gentle but firm.
“Sorry,” you croak out, taking a sip of water to soothe your throat.
Last night, when you arrived, your brother didn’t ask for explanations. He didn’t push, didn’t pry. Instead, he pulled you into a hug, letting you collapse into him, tears soaking into his shirt as you broke down.
You heard him curse, his voice tight with restrained anger, but he didn’t say anything else. He just let you cry. His hands rested firmly on your back.
He didn’t ask because he knew. He knew that words wouldn’t help—not now. And maybe, he was afraid that asking would only deepen the pain already spreading through you.
It’s the reason Soobin hasn’t married yet. He’s had plenty of offers, proposals that would benefit his business, alliances that would make sense on paper. But none of it feels right. Not when he knows what you’ve endured.
He can't forget the look on your face on the day of your wedding. He keeps his distance, telling himself he has no right to fall in love or build a life of his own. How could he, knowing the choice was never yours? How could he allow himself to stand in the light of his own happiness, knowing it would only cast a longer shadow over you?
It would be unfair. Unfair to chase his own happiness.
He’s afraid. Afraid that loving someone, finding joy in his own marriage, would feel like betrayal or it would mean abandoning you to face your burdens alone.
"How are you?" Yeonjun asks, his gaze lingering on the dark circles under your eyes. His frown deepens.
"I'm… better," you say, the words catching in your throat as you force them out. It’s a lie, and you both know it. You’re far from better. Not when the image of Beomgyu standing in the parking lot, staring at you as you left, keeps haunting you. He looked… You shake your head, forcing the thought away.
You can’t go there, not now.
“There’s a party this weekend,” Yeonjun says, trying to sound lighthearted as he takes a bite of his food. “Some kind of school reunion. I think it’s three batches combined. You should come with us.”
"Yeah," you mumble, poking at your plate. "Ryu-jin’s been bugging me about it. Since Jakey won’t be able to make it, he’s overseas right now."
But the words falter on your lips as the thought you’ve been trying to avoid pushes its way forward. You don’t have to say it out loud; it’s already there, written on your face. Beomgyu. He might be there.
"He won’t be," Soobin says firmly, it's almost as if he read your thoughts. "I made sure of it. And if, by some chance, he shows up, I’ll stick by your side all night."
Your eyes flick over to Yeonjun, and he gives you a slight nod, his expression softening. "I’ll be there too,"
The days pass in a haze, each one blurring into the next, but this time, you’re not navigating them by yourself. You lean on your brother more than you ever thought you would, and somehow, he never seems to mind.
Soobin, who skips work without a second thought, pulling you out of the house when he sees you sinking too deep into yourself. He drags you to museums, to quiet cafés, or even just for drives with no destination.
And then there’s Yeonjun. No matter how busy his life is, he keeps... showing up. When Soobin’s tied up, Yeonjun is there, knocking on your door with his humor pulling reluctant smiles from you when you least expect it.
It’s not perfect, it’s still hard. Some days, you still lock your doors and don't come out no matter how many times they knock. There are days you don't even utter a single word. But they’re there, both of them, holding you up when you can’t do it yourself.
For the first time in two years, you don't feel alone.
“He’s not on the list, don’t worry,” Ryu-jin’s voice crackles through the speaker of your phone. You grip the steering wheel a little tighter, your eyes fixed on the road ahead. Soobin’s car leads in the lane in front of you.
"It's fine," you say, "It's not like I'm going for him, anyway."
"Okay. See you there," Ryu-jin replies before hanging up. You swallow hard, trying to push down yet another nausea rising in your throat. You focus on the road.
When you arrive, you walk alongside Soobin toward the entrance. Heads turn, whispers ripple through the crowd. The two of you; the university’s so-called power siblings, command attention without even trying. People smile, greet you, and their eyes linger on your Dior dress, but you barely notice.
“You’re finally here,” Yeonjun’s familiar voice calls out as he approaches, his warm smile cutting the tension in your chest. He grabs your arm gently, pulling you closer. “I’m glad you came,” he says softly, his eyes holding yours before focusing on Soobin.
"You're early." Soobin exchanges a quick greeting with him, heading off briefly to grab drinks for the three of you.
“Y/N!” Ryu-jin throws her arms around you, grinning as her eyes sweep over you. “Why do you always have to look this good?” she teases playfully. You laugh softly, a flicker of warmth in an otherwise heavy evening. The four of you settle at a table, waiting for the event to begin.
The night feels… okay. Not great, not life-changing, but okay. A simple glimpse of normalcy.
The week leading up to tonight lingers in your mind. Beomgyu’s messages. The flowers left at Soobin’s door. The missed calls that filled your screen, each one a reminder of everything you’ve been trying to forget.
You ignored them all. You had to.
Even now, standing here among friends, the memories creep in when you least expect them. Every time you close your eyes, you see them. You see her. And you see him.
And all the things that could’ve happened between them.
No matter how hard you try, the ghosts cling to you, refusing to let go.
You scrub your hands under the cold stream of water, the scent of soap mingling with the sterile air. The sound of the bathroom door creaking open doesn’t register at first, not until you hear her voice.
“Hi, Y/N.” You freeze, your stomach twisting before you even turn around. Through the mirror, her face appears behind you—Ji-won. The last person you wanted to see.
“What do you want?” Your reflection betrays the tension in your jaw. Your stomach twists violently. You don’t want to do this. Not here. Not now.
“Look, I just… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About what happened between you and Beomgyu.” Her words falter, her tone weak, as if that soft voice could somehow soften the blow. “I—I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she continues, “It just… it just happened. We didn’t mean it.”
You know what hurts more than being cheated on? It’s the sickening realization that the person they chose is better than you in every way. Prettier. Maybe even smarter. More… everything.
Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to speak, “Stop, Ji-won.” You glance at her through the mirror, your chest tightening painfully. “I get it. I can see why.”
She looks startled, her brows drawing together. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. I know you know we had… unfinished business—”
“Unfinished business?” You spin around to face her, and the words tumble out before you can stop them, “With someone else’s husband?”
“That’s why I came to apologize,”
You laugh bitterly, shaking your head as your chest burns with a mixture of anger and pain. “Well, I don’t need it. Did you expect me to hug you?” You let out another laugh, this one harsher.
“Congratulations, I guess.” You step closer, each word laced with venom. “But don’t you ever come near me again. If you do, I’ll press charges. It will be really ugly. Do you understand?”
Ji-won nods stiffly, her expression crumbling under the weight of your stare. Without another glance, you turn on your heel and walk out of the bathroom, your steps hurried, the adrenaline rushing through your veins.
By the time you’re in the hallway, your breath is coming in short gasps. Your chest feels tight, constricted, like you’re drowning in your own emotions. You press a hand to your chest, forcing yourself to keep walking, but your vision blurs with unshed tears.
You can’t breathe.
The alcohol should’ve been enough. You thought it would drown everything out; the ache, the gnawing in your gut, the weight pressing down on your shoulders. But the pain is relentless, carving its way through you, burning and cold.
It starts in your chest, spreading like wildfire, suffocating your lungs, and crawling up your spine until it feels like you’re being pulled apart from the inside. It’s sharp, chaotic, like a bullet ricocheting through your body, tearing apart every fragile piece it touches.
You hear Ryu-jin’s voice calling your name, faint and distant, but you don’t turn around. You can’t. No. The crowd around you feels stifling, every laugh and every cheer scraping against your raw nerves. You’re barely holding it together, and you know that if you stay even a second longer, you’ll shatter in front of everyone.
You just need to go. To get away. Anywhere but here. Because right now, in the middle of this party, you feel like an open wound, with no place to hide.
“Where the hell did she go?” Ryu-jin muttered under her breath, panic creeping into her voice as she scanned the hallway outside the bathroom. She had only stepped away for a minute, grabbed what she needed, and when she came back—you were gone.
She storms back to the table, her heart racing. “Soobin, did you see Y/N?”
Soobin looked up immediately, concern flashing across his face. “She was with you, wasn’t she?”
“I lost her,” Ryu-jin admits, held up her phone, frustrated. “I’ve been trying to call, but her phone’s not connecting.” The worry on Soobin’s face mirrors her own, and for a moment, neither of them speaks.
“I’ll check outside,” Soobin says, already rising to his feet, his determination written all over his face. Yeonjun appears at the table just as Soobin leaves. “I’ll go with him.”
“Ryu-jin? Hey, long time no see.”
She turned to see Jay standing there, his familiar easygoing smile not quite registering in the chaos of her mind. “Jay,” she said, forcing a tight smile. “Hey. Yeah. Long time.”
Jay tilted his head. “Surprising. Where’s Choi’s golden girl? Isn’t she usually glued to your side?”
Ryu-jin hesitated, her smile faltering. “They… stepped out for a bit,” she lied, tone distracted.
Her gaze drifted across the room, and that’s when she saw her. Ji-won. Sitting with her group of friends, laughing, carefree, as if she hadn’t done enough damage already. The sight of her felt like a slap to the face. “The audacity…” Ryu-jin muttered under her breath.
Jay follows her line of sight, his eyebrows raising when he spots her. “That’s Ji-won, right?” he asks, his tone laced with something between curiosity and disdain. “The one who’s always been weirdly obsessed with Y/N?”
Ryu-jin’s head snapped toward him. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean,” Jay continues, shrugging, “back in college, she had this… thing. Like, she couldn’t stand it whenever someone said Y/N was pretty, which was often. It was kind of insane, honestly. Everyone knew Y/N was the prettiest girl back then, and Ji-won hated it. Like, visibly hated it.”
Ryu-jin chokes on her drink, coughing as she shakes her head in disbelief. Her fingers twitch with the urge to march over to Ji-won and give her a piece of her mind, but before she can act on the intrusive thought, Soobin reappears. His face is pale.
“She’s been in an accident,”
You got into an accident.
Beomgyu was sitting in his office when the call came. Everything around him blurred, the world spinning out of focus. It felt as if time had stopped for him, while the Earth kept spinning mercilessly. His body froze, but his mind was spiralling.
Y/N. Accident. The words replayed on a loop in his head, loud and cruel. He couldn't process them, couldn't let them sink in, because doing so would mean accepting that something terrible had happened to you.
You got into a car accident. Something terrible happened.
His throat tightened as he gripped the phone with trembling hands. "Wh-where… which hospital?" he stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might shatter.
The answer came, muffled like it was coming from underwater. The call ended before he could fully react. The phone slipped from his hand onto the desk as he staggered to his feet, his legs shaky beneath him.
Somehow, he made it to his car, though he couldn’t remember how. His chest heaved. With shaking fingers, he dialled another number, desperate for more answers.
“Don’t bother coming here, Choi Beomgyu.” Soobin’s voice was sharp and breathless when he answered. It sounded strained, furious even, and it only made Beomgyu’s heart sink further.
“Is she okay?” Beomgyu whispered, his voice barely audible. The question felt like it would break him. His chest felt like it was caving in, the pain clawing at him as he braced himself for the answer. He bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood, his free hand digging into his hair as he fought to stay grounded.
“She’s…” Soobin’s voice faltered, and that hesitation was enough to send Beomgyu spiraling further. “They’re trying. The doctors are doing everything they can.”
It wasn’t enough. Those words, those pitiful attempts at reassurance, did nothing to quiet the storm raging inside him. His hands tightened around the steering wheel as panic surged through him. If Soobin couldn’t say you were okay, it meant you weren’t.
Beomgyu floored the gas pedal.
His mind raced as fast as the car, every thought more horrifying than the last. What if he was too late? What if he never got to see you again? His breath hitched at the thought. His hands gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles pale.
He had to see you. Alive. Breathing.
Anything less would destroy him.
Beomgyu bursts into the hospital, his heart pounding so loudly it drowns out the sterile beeping and muffled voices around him. He barely registers the nurse’s directions to your room. All he knows is that he has to see you. His feet carry him faster than his thoughts, and when he spots the door, he doesn’t expect the two familiar figures standing outside.
Ryu-jin sits on a chair, her face buried in her hands as her shoulders shake with sobs. Yeonjun is pacing, his expression tight with worry, his hands clenched into fists.
The moment Yeonjun sees Beomgyu, he stops dead in his tracks. His gaze hardens, sharp and unyielding, as he steps forward and blocks the door with his arm.
“She wouldn’t want to see you,” Yeonjun snaps, his voice low and venomous. “Get the fuck out of here, you piece of shit.”
Beomgyu freezes for half a second before anger flares in his chest, red-hot and uncontrollable. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he shouts, shoving Yeonjun hard enough to make him stumble back a step. “I’m going to see my wife!”
Yeonjun doesn’t back down. If anything, he looks even angrier.
“Stop it! Both of you!” Ryu-jin’s voice cracks as she looks up, mascara streaked down her tear-stained cheeks. She doesn’t bother wiping it away. Her hands tremble as she points at the door. “Visitors aren’t allowed until tomorrow. She’s in surgery, Beomgyu. And it’s not… it’s not a minor one.”
Those words hit him like a freight train. The fight drains out of him, leaving only fear in its place. He stumbles back a step, his hands running through his hair as he struggles to breathe. “Surgery?” he whispers, his voice breaking. “What kind of surgery?”
Yeonjun glares at him, unmoving. “And now you come running,” he spits, his tone bitter. “After all this time? Now you care?”
Beomgyu clenches his jaw, meeting Yeonjun’s fiery gaze but saying nothing. Because he knows Yeonjun’s right.
Yeonjun’s shoulders sag, and his voice softens, “You don’t even know,” he says, eyes on the floor. “You don’t know what a fucking queen your wife is.”
The unexpected shift in tone stops Beomgyu in his tracks. He stares at Yeonjun. His words, they're spoken with such devastation that it leaves him frozen. He sees the sullen look on Yeonjun's face. After all, Yeonjun has always been soft when it comes to you.
So soft that it terrifies Beomgyu.
"Beomgyu." Soobin's voice cuts through the heavy silence, pulling Beomgyu out of his spiralling thoughts. He turns toward him, barely able to focus. "Let's talk here."
Beomgyu nods silently and walks over, his legs feeling heavier with every step. He follows without a word, leaving Yeonjun and Ryu-jin standing alone near the door.
Ryu-jin watches Yeonjun out of the corner of her eye. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a single word since his last bitter remark to Beomgyu. He stands there, staring at the floor. His hands clasped together.
The silence stretches uncomfortably, and she can’t help herself. “Yeonjun…” she starts hesitantly. “You’re not… in love with her or something, are you?”
Her words made Yeonjun’s head snap up. His eyes meet hers, and for the first time, Ryu-jin sees it, really sees it. The glassy sheen in his eyes, the way his lips part but no words come out. The heartbreak painted so clearly on his face that it makes her chest ache. “You idiot,” she whispers, her voice soft with pity.
Yeonjun lets out a shaky breath, his gaze dropping again as if he can’t bear the weight of her sympathy. “She’s… my best friend’s little sister,” he murmurs, his voice raw and quiet. “I didn’t think it was possible. Not for me. Not for her.” He doesn’t answer directly. He doesn’t need to. It’s all over his face.
Yeonjun was in love with you, ever since he first saw you.
Beomgyu sat across from Soobin, his hands clenched tightly in his lap as he listened. Soobin’s voice was calm but firm as he explained what the doctors had said, stress was the last thing you could handle right now. “I’ll let you know if it’s okay for you to see her."
The words didn’t settle easily. Beomgyu didn’t understand why no one would tell him anything about your condition, why every detail was kept from him. But knowing you were stable, even for the moment, was enough. He swallowed his frustration and nodded, agreeing to Soobin’s terms.
Still, he couldn’t help himself. As Soobin turned to leave, Beomgyu’s voice cracked, raw with desperation. “Please,” he begged, “Let me see her. Just once… before I go.”
Beomgyu felt like his heart was clawing its way out of his chest, beating so erratically it left him breathless. It begged to escape, just as he begged silently to be allowed into the ICU. His hands trembled, numb and unsteady. He flexed his fingers, forcing a crack to echo through his knuckles, before gripping the cold metal of the doorknob.
On the other side of this door was you, the woman he hurt.
The thought made him pause, the ache in his chest spreading to his throat, tightening it like a noose. He wasn’t sure he could face you, not like this. But he couldn’t stay away, not anymore.
The door creaked softly as it opened, and his heart stuttered at the sight of you. Your face was pale but peaceful, your eyes closed, your breaths slow and steady. The sound of the machines around you was the only thing keeping him grounded.
He stepped closer, each movement hesitant, his guilt weighing heavier with every inch he bridged between you. When he finally reached your bedside, he froze, staring down at your hand—fragile and adorned with IV needles. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. They were soft. Warm. And just that small, simple touch made him breathe again—really breathe—for the first time in days.
“Baby,” he whispered, the word breaking in his throat.
He sank to his knees beside you, clutching your hand to his face. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over before he could stop them. They fell onto your skin, warm and unrelenting, a silent apology for every mistake he had made. He pressed his lips to your hand, shoulders shook as he cried.
The past few days without you had been unbearable. If he ever had doubts, or worries, if he ever hesitated, those thoughts were gone now. It's you. He’d thought about every little thing you did that he had taken for granted. All of it. And he realized, how much it all mattered.
How much you mattered to him.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, whispers to your skin as he continue to kiss your palm. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”
The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the words pouring out of him. “You mean everything to me. I didn’t see it before, but I see it now. I love you. God, I love you so much.”
He squeezed your hand, hoping that somehow you could feel him. That even in this fragile, unconscious state, you could hear the desperate beating of his heart, could feel the truth in his touch. “I’ll do better,” he whispered, “I’ll be better. If you’ll just… if you’ll just give me another chance. Please.”
He didn’t know if you could hear him. He didn’t know if you’d ever forgive him. And he hates himself how it took him this long to figure it out.
Beomgyu’s heart was in his hands now, fully exposed and vulnerable, waiting, you could somehow feel it. He rested his forehead against your hand, tears pooling on the stark white sheets. If you gave him the chance, he’d spend the rest of his life proving that his love is real. He was finally here, standing in the world where you had once stood so heartbreakingly alone. And that his heart was yours, completely yours.
He would spend forever making up for what he had done. Even if it kills him.
“Where were you?” you asked, reaching over to grab the strawberry from the basket on the kitchen table. Beomgyu’s chuckle filled the room. “I went drinking with Taehyun. Just a light drink,” he said casually, his hand brushing your shoulder as he passed behind you to grab a plate.
“Why? Did you miss your husband?” he teased, carefully plating the food before setting it down in front of you. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You wish.”
He chuckled, handing you a spoon and fork before moving around the kitchen. A tall glass appeared on the table next to your plate and he poured you water.
“Did he miss me too?” Beomgyu’s voice was soft, almost tentative, drawing your gaze upward. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you were caught in the tenderness there. It made your heart ache in that way only he could.
“He?” You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you swallowed. “What makes you so sure it's a boy?” Your hand instinctively brushed over your stomach as a quiet smile softened your face. The thought of your little one—boy or girl—filled you with a warmth you couldn’t quite put into words.
“I just feel it,” A small smile flickered across his lips, “What if we get twins?”
You looked down, your thoughts wandering to tiny clothes, little shoes scattered across the floor, and pastel-painted walls filled with light and laughter. “That would be… amazing,” you murmured.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Beomgyu pulling out the chair beside you. He sat down at first, but then, almost as if drawn closer by some unseen force, he shifted. You felt his gaze before you saw him; soft, unwavering, and filled with a kind of awe that made your chest tighten.
“That sounds nice, two little you running around.” he breathed, his voice almost a whisper. His hand reached out slowly, brushing against your stomach. You set down your utensils, giving him a soft nod as you shifted slightly, allowing him more access.
Beomgyu lowered himself onto his knees in front of you, his large hands resting gently on either side of your growing belly. He glanced up at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment before he let out a long, steady breath. Then, with a tenderness that made your throat tighten, he leaned closer, pressing his forehead gently against your stomach.
“Mommy and Daddy love you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. He sounded so vulnerable, so small, like all the pain he had been carrying had finally spilled over. His lips pressed softly against your stomach. And then, without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face against you.
Your hand moved instinctively, threading through his soft hair with slow, soothing strokes. He pulled you closer, as though being near you could quiet the storm in his heart. Your fingers trailed down the back of his neck, over his shoulders, and down his back.
And then—it shifted.
In your dream, you were cradling a baby to your chest, its tiny body safe in your arms. Beomgyu leaned down, smiling widely as you do.
You woke up, panting.
You were dreaming. It shattered as reality came rushing back. Pain coursed through you, sharp and unrelenting, pulling a small, involuntary sound from your lips.
The memory hit next, as vivid as the moment it happened. Driving through the night with tears blurring your vision, your hands trembling on the wheel. The sound of your ragged breathing, the pounding of your heart. You were speeding, desperate to outrun the ache inside. Then the impact—another car colliding into yours, the violent spin before your vision went black.
“Hnn,” you whimpered, barely able to get the sound out. Your throat was dry, parched, and every part of you ached. You needed water.
"Y/N," a voice broke through the haze of your awakening. You turned your head to see your brother, Soobin. His face paled as he dropped whatever he was holding and rushed to your side. “I—I—”
“Water. Please,” you rasped, your throat dry and raw.
Soobin nodded quickly, his hands trembling as he reached for the water bottle on the nearby table. He uncapped it, holding it to your lips as you drank. Relief was fleeting; the ache in your chest outweighed the dryness in your throat.
“What happened?” you asked, your voice a little stronger now, though your hands still shook.
“You got into an accident,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. His voice was low, almost fragile. “A surgery was performed. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”
You nodded, trying to process his words, but his silence that followed unsettled you. ou looked at him, noticing the way his eyes darted away from yours, how his lips pressed together like he was holding back something he didn’t know how to say.
“What is it?” you pressed, your chest tightening with dread.
Soobin hesitated, his hands fidgeting in his lap before he reached out to take yours. “Let me call the nurse first, okay?” You nodded, though the fear in his voice made it hard to breathe.
You nodded, your anxiety growing as he stepped out. Moments later, the nurse arrived, and then the doctor, their voices calm and professional as they began explaining the details of your condition. But their words blurred together; a haze of medical jargon that barely registered, until one sentence shattered everything.
“You were in your first trimester when the accident occurred. The baby didn’t survive. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Your world tilted. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, it felt like your heart had stopped.
“A baby?” you whispered, the word foreign and fragile on your lips.
The nurse and doctor offered their condolences before quietly excusing themselves, leaving you alone with Soobin. Your hands trembled as they instinctively moved to your stomach. “I was pregnant?” Your voice cracked, disbelief and anguish bleeding into every word. "Soobin?"
“Y/N…” Soobin’s voice was choked with emotion.
“I mean… they’re saying I was…” You stopped, the reality sinking in with a force so cruel. “Oh.”
“I didn’t even know,” Tears blurred your vision as the enormity of it all crashed down on you. You lost a baby. A life you didn’t even know you were carrying. A piece of you that was gone before you ever had the chance to feel it, to know it, to love it.
Did you have to lose your child too?
The sobs came hard and fast, wracking your body until you could barely breathe. Your hands covered your mouth, trying to hold in the grief that spilled over anyway. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant.” you choked out, your voice breaking. “And now… they’re gone.” Your hands clutched at your stomach as if trying to hold on to something that was no longer there. "It's all my fault."
Soobin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as your cries tore the room. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice shaking. He held you tightly. The only thing that kept you from falling out.
Your cries grew louder, as the loss consumed you. The one you saw in your dream, so warm in your arms. You had held them, hadn’t you? You could still feel the weight of their tiny body in your arms.
Your baby.
All you could do was mourn for the life that had slipped away before you even knew it existed.
It’s been a week since Soobin made his last call to Beomgyu. A week since you opened your eyes in the hospital. And yet, Beomgyu has heard nothing.
Every day, he drags himself to the hospital. But every time, the answer is the same: no. On the fourth day he arrived, you’d been discharged. You were gone.
Still, every morning, Beomgyu wakes up with that same aching hope that refuses to let go no matter how much it hurts. He gets through the day somehow, clutching at the thought of seeing your face again. But by night, when the world quiets, he’s left with nothing but his tears, falling asleep with the weight of your absence pressing down on his heart.
He’s distracted, eyes fixed on the same line of text glowing on his computer screen. It’s been minutes, maybe longer, and he still hasn’t moved past the first sentence. His mind is elsewhere—adrift—when a knock on the office door pulls him back.
His secretary peeks in, face filled with cautious expression. “Sir, I’ve been calling your phone. Someone’s here to see you, Park Sunghoon.”
Beomgyu blinked, confused. Sunghoon? His old batchmate, someone he’d shared classes with years ago. They hadn’t talked in forever. He nodded slowly, signalling her to let him in.
The door opens fully, and Sunghoon strides in. His pale complexion contrasts starkly with the black polo shirt he’s wearing, and Beomgyu notices the glasses perched on his nose, something he didn't have before. Sunghoon doesn’t look quite the same as Beomgyu remembers.
“Beomgyu,” Sunghoon said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How’ve you been, man?”
“Sunghoon,” Beomgyu responds, sitting up straighter in his chair. “What brings you here?” He gestures toward the seat across the desk, and Sunghoon takes it. The frown etched into his brow didn’t escape Beomgyu’s notice. “Is everything okay?”
Sunghoon exhales, leaning forward and clasping his hands together on his knees. “You know I’m close with Jay, right?”
Beomgyu narrows his eyes, unsure where this is heading, but he nods. “Yeah. And?”
“Well…” Sunghoon hesitates, the words seemingly heavy in his throat before he finally speaks. “I heard about Y/N. That she got into an accident recently.” The sound of your name halts Beomgyu.
“I couldn’t ignore it anymore,” Sunghoon continues, voice quieter. “I made promises to her, you know? But lately… I don’t know. It’s been eating me alive.”
Beomgyu runs his hand to his hair, "Sunghoon…”
"I didn’t think it was my place to say this," Sunghoon begins, "When I heard you two got married, I thought maybe she’d tell you. Maybe you already know. But I came here personally, just in case. Because you deserve to know. And if I don’t tell you now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life."
He exhales deeply before continuing. “Do you remember how you used to talk about Ji-won? How you’d brag about her cooking for you, leaving little things for you, sweets, medicine, hot packs. Or the cold water she’d always leave at your bench during those grueling practices under the sun? Do you remember how she saved your ass that time you forgot your assignment, staying up late just to finish it for you? You told us all those things, over and over, like she a gem.” Beomgyu feels his chest tighten as Sunghoon meets his nervous gaze.
“All of that, Beomgyu… it wasn’t Ji-won,” Sunghoon says carefully, “It was Y/N. Every single one of those things. I know because… she asked me to help her sometimes. She didn’t want you to know. She didn’t do it for recognition or because she wanted anything back. She just cared about you. I even told her once, maybe she should tell you how she felt, and even if you didn’t feel the same, at least it’d help her move on. But she wouldn’t. She told me… her love for you wasn’t about getting something back. It wasn’t about her. It wasn’t selfish.”
Beomgyu’s hand trembles under the table, his knuckles white as he clenches his fists. His throat feels tight, each word hitting his ears.
“At first, I couldn’t understand her decision, I even judged her for it, thinking she was only making... things harder on herself,” Sunghoon admits, voice softening. “But over time, I realized—none of us have the right to judge someone else’s pain. You can’t measure someone else’s actions by your own standards. What might seem small or insignificant to one person could be earth-shattering to someone else.”
Beomgyu had been in love with the idea of Ji-won all along.
Those moments; the little gestures, the care, the comfort, they had become the foundation of his attachment to her. How he remembered her. They were the memories he clung to, the ones burned so deeply into his mind that letting her go had felt impossible. She was, in his mind, someone who cared for him. Someone who truly knew him.
But it wasn’t her. It was you. It had been you all along.
He thinks about Ji-won, the girl he once believed was willing to stand by him no matter what. She made him think about defying his parents, about running away from everything; his responsibilities, his future, his entire life. Ji-won was the one who fueled his anger, who stood beside him as he cursed the world and everyone in it.
And then there was you.
You, who never let him go too far. You didn’t encourage his anger—you challenged it. Even when it meant standing against him, because you wanted him to understand—not everything could be run from. It was you who reminded him that his obligations weren’t a prison but a part of him, something he couldn’t just abandon. It was you who helped him rebuild the bridge to his parents when he didn’t even realise it had been burned.
It’s suffocating now, the truth. To realise that the very actions that made him fall for Ji-won, the moments he thought defined her love for him, were never hers.
They were yours.
Ji-won had been nothing but a mirror to his rebellion. This truth, made him want to see you more.
“Pour me another,” Beomgyu muttered to the bartender he leaned heavily on his forearm. The man hesitated, his concern written all over his face. Beomgyu noticed but didn’t care. “I said, pour me another one.”
With a reluctant nod, the bartender slid another drink in front of him. Beomgyu downed it in one go, the burn in his throat doing nothing to drown out the ache in his chest. He fumbled for his phone, the screen glaring back at him as he typed out messages he knew you’d never read.
I miss you, baby. Can I see you? Let’s talk, please. Are you not going to see me? Forever? Ok. I understand. I don’t deserve forgiveness. No. Please. Give me a chance. Just one chance to see you. To talk to you, please. I can’t go on another day without you. Please Y/N.
The messages sat there, unanswered.
Stumbling out of the bar, his legs unsteady and his vision blurred, he barely noticed the bartender calling his driver. He collapsed onto the pavement outside, his head in his hands, phone still clutched in his trembling fingers.
As he opened it again, ready to type another desperate plea, his screen lit up with an incoming call. His heart skipped, hope flickering briefly before seeing another unfamiliar number.
“When are you going to stop calling me, Ji-won?” he shouted into the phone, his voice hoarse with frustration and alcohol. “I’ve said it more than once, we don’t need to talk. Not ever again.”
“I just wanted to know how you’re—”
“Please!” he cut her off, his voice breaking as tears streamed freely down his face. He was shaking now, his words spilling out in a desperate sob. “Please, Ji-won… I know everything. I know what you did. You ruined the only good thing I ever had. You… you destroyed it.”
He pressed his palm against his mouth, trying to muffle the sound of his own cries. “Please,” he whispered, the word barely audible through his tears. “Just let me be.”
The line ends.
Ji-won freezes, her fingers trembling as the line goes dead. You ruined the only good thing I ever had. You… you destroyed it.
She exhales shakily, forcing air into her lungs that suddenly feel too tight. Her phone slips from her hand, landing softly on the bedspread. Hot tears well in her eyes, blurring the room around her. She had let herself believe—naively, foolishly—that Choi Beomgyu could still be hers.
Even after everything, she had convinced herself that there was still a piece of him that belonged to her. But now, hearing his words, she knew. She had already lost him.
The tears came harder as her mind betrayed her, pulling her back to the moment it all began. The moment her hatred for you took root.
“Beomgyu,” she had chirped, plopping down beside him on the couch. He had been immersed in a book, his brow furrowed in concentration, but she didn’t care. She wanted his attention, his reassurance. She always did. “There’s this talk going around about… Y/N,” she said, the name leaving a sour taste on her tongue. “People are saying she’s the prettiest girl on campus.” Her voice dropped, tinged with an edge of insecurity.
“But that’s not true, right? She’s not that… pretty.” She trailed off, squeezing his hand, her smile faltering as she waited for the words she longed to hear. She wanted him to say, there was no competition—that she was the most beautiful girl in his eyes.
Beomgyu was half hearing her words because he was engrossed in the book he was reading. So instead, he looked up, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “It's true. I think she’s beautiful.”
It was on that day Ji-won began to hate you with every fiber of her being.
The kind of hatred that wasn’t born overnight, but nurtured by her insecurities, fed by the way you walked through the world without a care—dragging every boy’s eyes in your wake as if it were effortless. And the worst part? You didn’t even seem to notice. You didn’t have to notice.
Jealousy festered in her chest, growing heavier each time she caught a glimpse of you. It didn’t help that you and Beomgyu—her Beomgyu—shared a world she could never truly enter. The Chois. The big families. A legacy. Something she wasn’t, something she could never be.
The announcement of your engagement felt like the final blow. She couldn’t understand how the universe could be so evil. You, the girl she couldn’t stand, were being handed the one thing she clung to the hardest. It wasn’t fair. And as jealousy morphed into bitterness, she let herself simmer in the injustice of it all, until it burned hot enough to ignite a plan.
Ji-won thought of everything. She knew Beomgyu would be there at the party, and she knew what she had to do. She chose the kind of dress he used to love. She styled her hair the way he used to run his fingers through, practised the words he used to adore hearing spill from her lips. She even reached for the used perfume he once said he liked.
It wasn’t an accident. None of it was. Ji-won walked into that room not as a guest, but as someone determined to remind him of what they once had. It didn’t matter that he was married.
You ruined the only good thing I ever had. You destroyed it. Please, just let me be.
She swallows hard, the lump in her throat refusing to go away. The realization settles over her like a heavy fog, a fog that turns clear—she is nothing more than a wall. A futile obstacle standing in the way of two souls who are meant to be together.
She opens her phone, booking a flight—any flight—to anywhere but here.
“It’s here,” Soobin says softly, his hand resting gently on your back as he guides you forward. His finger points to the glass grave in front of you.
Gone, but forever in our hearts. Moon.
Your Moon. The name you gave your baby—a name as delicate and luminous as the child who never got to see the world. You thought long and hard about it. It had to be beautiful, just like him. A name worthy of all the love you poured into his short, fleeting existence.
You pull out your handkerchief, wiping at the thin layer of dust that has settled on the outside of the glass. Your fingers tremble as you do, as though clearing the smudges could make it hurt less. But it doesn’t. It never does. Your brow furrows as you fight the ache swelling in your chest. He’s in there—inside that small, delicate bottle. And this is all you can do for him now.
“Hi, baby,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the words leave your lips. Soobin stands beside you, his smile soft but heavy with sadness. “Do you think I would’ve been a good uncle?” he asks, his voice barely louder than the wind.
You glance at him, your heart aching at the question. He kneels to place the small flowers you’d brought together, arranging them with the utmost care. There's an unfamiliar flower resting beside it. Someone must have wrongly placed it.
“Yes,” you manage to say, your throat tight with emotion. “I think the two of you would’ve been close.” You force a smile, though it wavers, your words choking you as they come out.
He reaches up and smooths your hair, a comforting gesture that almost makes you break. “He’s up there,” Soobin murmurs, his eyes lifting to the sky. “With no pain. Watching over you.”
You nod, swallowing hard, willing your tears to stay back. You can’t cry. Not here. Not now. If you cry, your baby might worry. You’ve convinced yourself of that, even if it doesn’t make sense.
The week after your discharge was unbearable.
You clung to Soobin like a lifeline, your hands gripping his. Your parents moved you back into their house without question, simply knowing you needed them.
Your mother, the strongest woman you’d ever known, the one who never faltered, cried with you when you broke the news. She held you in her arms like you were a child again, her tears falling silently against your hair as you sobbed into her chest. Your father walked with you every day, leading you to the garden where you could sit in the sunlight, as if the warmth could somehow seep into the cracks inside you. They cooked your meals, cleaned your space, and did everything you couldn’t bring yourself to do.
Tonight, you find yourself staring blankly at the walls of your old room.
The quiet feels suffocating, pressing against your chest. Sleep won’t come, and before you even realise it, tears are slipping down your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying until the dampness touches your skin. You sit up abruptly, your chest heaving as if the air refuses to fill your lungs. The stillness of the bed feels unbearable, so you push yourself off it, your feet meeting the cool floor.
Pacing back and forth, you feel the tears come harder now, unchecked and unexplainable. You don’t even know why you’re crying. It’s just there—this ache, this heaviness. You were about to go out, to get Soobin or your parents.
But then your eyes caught the window.
It glows. The moon.
It’s full tonight, impossibly bright, casting a soft, silvery glow across the room. It feels like it’s staring back at you. You stand there, frozen, the phone slipping from your hand. The moon’s reflection shimmers faintly in your tear-filled eyes, and for a moment, you forget the heaviness pressing against your chest. It’s as if the moon is speaking to you, telling you to breathe, to let go, to just be.
Your breathing steadies. You stand there, bathed in its light, feeling the faintest glimmer of peace. And the storm inside you begins to calm.
It’s been six months since you woke up.
Six months since you returned to your parents’ house, where the familiar walls offered some sense of safety. Ryu-jin and Yeonjun visit almost every weekend, their presence a small comfort. Soobin stays, too, refusing to leave your side.
It’s been almost seven months since you last saw Choi Beomgyu.
Seven months since everything fell apart.
Choi Beomgyu, who, for six months now, has spent every single day driving two hours to your parents’ house. He shows up like clockwork, no matter the weather, no matter the time. After work, he makes the trip, arriving at the big gated doors with a bouquet of white roses in his hands.
Every single day.
He doesn’t make a scene or beg to be let in. He just waits, bouquet in hand, a fragile hope flickering in his eyes. White roses. Always white roses. They used to be your favourite.
His parents send gifts, too. Packages and handwritten letters arrive, carefully chosen and delicately worded, but you can’t bring yourself to open them.
And every day, you hear the knock at the gate. Every day, you peek from the upstairs window, watching him wait, white roses clutched in his hands like a lifeline. And every day, you stay hidden behind the curtains, your feet stay rooted to the floor, your heart too bruised to carry you to him.
But today is different.
Today, it has to be.
The papers are in your hands. Unsigned divorce papers. You tell yourself it’s just paper, just ink, but the trembling in your hands betrays the truth.
You walk to the building you once called home, each step echoing in your chest. The elevator hums softly as you press the button, your reflection in the mirrored doors a stranger to you. When it finally dings open, you step out into the hallway that once smelled of comfort and familiarity. Now it feels like a mausoleum.
Your hand hovers over the doorbell of your home—no, his home. The space you used to share feels distant. The ring in your other hand feels impossibly heavy, its cool metal biting into your palm.
You’ve tried to get rid of it before. Once, you even threw it in the trash, convincing yourself it was the right thing to do. But then came the panic. You tore through the garbage, hands shaking, the stench clinging to you as you clawed through. It didn’t matter that you ruined your clothes or that your mom’s voice cracked as she begged you to stop.
You just couldn’t let it go. Maybe, you should return it properly.
You take a breath and press the button. And then you wait.
When the door swung open, Beomgyu’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything froze. His eyes widened in shock, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. You felt your chest tighten painfully, the sight of him unravelling something inside you. He looked… so different. His hair, longer now, fell to his shoulders in messy waves, unkempt like he hadn’t bothered to comb it. His skin was pale, almost sickly, and his eyes were rimmed with red, like he’d been crying, or hadn’t slept in days.
“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand gripped the edge of the door like he needed something to steady him, his heart hammering so loudly he swore you could hear it. Was this real? Were you really standing there? He let his gaze trail over you, taking in your thinner frame, the hollow tiredness etched into your face. He wanted to say something, to invite you in, but the words caught in his throat.
You didn’t say a word. Instead, you stepped past him, the sharp click of your heels against the floor filling the suffocating silence. Each step echoed like a countdown, louder in his ears than it should have been. Beomgyu turned to watch you, his hand hovering uselessly at his side, aching to reach out but too afraid to try.
He closed the door softly behind you.
Your eyes scan the room, and it hits you all at once—everything’s a mess. Clothes are strewn carelessly over the couch, an empty chip bag crumpled on the kitchen counter, dishes piling up in the sink. The air feels heavy, stagnant, like the windows haven’t been opened in weeks.
And then your gaze shifts, to the open door on the right. Your room.
Your breath catches as you take it in. The bed is unmade, the sheets tangled in a way that’s unmistakable.
He’s been sleeping there. Beomgyu. In your room. In your bed.
"Uh," Beomgyu starts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, it's… kind of a mess."
You nod stiffly, not meeting his eyes. "It's okay."
The sound of your voice makes him halt. It’s been so long since he’s heard it, too long. His chest tightens, but before he can savor it, your next words come like a knife to his heart. "I'm not going to be here for long anyway."
His brows furrow, panic flashing across his face. "Wh-why?" he stammers, his voice breaking. "I mean—"
You cut him off, extending the envelope toward him with trembling hands. "Let’s…" You swallow hard, forcing the words out despite the lump in your throat. "Let’s get a divorce."
Beomgyu stares at you, his mind reeling. The hope that had bloomed in his chest when he saw you standing at his door clashes violently with the reality of your words. His lips part, but no sound comes at first. Finally, he whispers, "Why?"
He can’t stop himself. The panic is overwhelming. "I went to your house every day," he says, his voice breaking. "Every single day, Y/N. I wanted to make this work. I—I sent you messages, I tried everything. Do you…" He swallows hard, his throat tight. "Do you not love me anymore?" He knows he sounds pathetic, but he doesn’t care. The speeches he’d rehearsed in his head dissolve into nothing, overtaken by the fright clawing at him.
Your breath hitches, and when you speak, your voice is cold, trembling with barely contained emotion. "I don’t care if I love you, Beomgyu. I don’t care if it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest, or if it feels like I’m dying inside." You take a shaky breath, your grip tightening on the envelope. "I want a divorce. And when it’s done, you’ll never see me again."
Beomgyu flinches like you’ve struck him, his knees nearly buckling. He shifts uncomfortably, his hands shaking at his sides. "Is this still about Ji-won?" he asks hesitantly, and the way you flinch answers him before your words can.
He swallows hard, his voice growing more frantic. "It’s true, Y/N. It’s true, that I cheated. I kissed her, but as soon as it happened, I pushed her away." He presses a trembling hand to his chest. "It didn’t mean anything—it was a mistake, a horrible mistake, and I hate myself for it every single day. But please…" His voice cracks, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Please, give me a chance."
You shake your head, a sob breaking free despite how hard you’re trying to hold it together. "It’s too late, Beomgyu," you whisper, your voice trembling as your hands shake. You open your hands, and try to give the ring back. "Too much has happened. We can’t go back."
Beomgyu doesn’t take it. He just stands there, staring at the ring in your palm, tears streaming down his face. He knows. If he takes it, it’s over. If he takes it, you’ll be gone for good, out of his life forever.
"I can’t," he whispers, his voice broken. "I can’t take it."
He won’t take the ring, so he takes your hand and pulled you to him, kissing your lips fervently and enduring the slam of your fists against his body and chest. It was all him; it was all his fault. He is an emotional wreck who doesn’t know what to do and how to contain his feelings.
“Beomgyu—” you gasped, your voice breaking as you pushed at his chest. He didn’t let go, his hands cupping your face, fingers brushing against your jaw like you were something fragile and sacred. His touch was shaky, his breathing uneven as his hands slid to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.
His movements were hurried, frantic, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. In one swift motion, he lifted you, his steps unsteady as he carried you to the bedroom. Your bedroom. The air felt heavy as he laid you down on the mattress—his mattress now, the one that carried his scent.
“Wait—,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt, your voice trembling as much as your resolve. But even as you pushed against him, your lips didn’t stop moving from kissing him back. His hands moved to your shoulders, then slid down to your waist, pulling you to him. You never knew that lips could talk without uttering a word until he declared his love for you through kisses. You let yourself melt under his touch.
Your hands, which had been pushing him away moments before, now found his shoulders for balance as he pressed you back into the bed. The mattress creaked beneath you, and you hated how your body still remembered him, how it responded to him like no time had passed at all.
His breaths were ragged, syncing with your every moan as his tongue tangled with yours, hungry and desperate. You had missed him, every part of him. That truth burned inside you as your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer, urging him on. His body pressed against yours, grinding to yours, while his hands roamed over your skin, igniting every nerve he touched. His lips trailed downward, leaving soft kisses that melted into your flesh, a path leading straight to your core.
He stripped you of every barrier, leaving you bare under his gaze. His eyes shimmered with something between adoration and hunger as they traced your body. You hadn’t realized how powerless you were against him until your legs parted, welcoming him. He looked at you like you were sacred, like you were his entire world.
“Don’t leave me…” he whispered between kisses, his voice breaking in a way that made your heart ache. Tears pricked your eyes because you wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him. His hands explored further, his fingers reaching for your clit, pinching softly then roughly, coaxing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you were capable of. You trembled beneath him, gasping and crying out as he whispered confessions into your skin.
His mouth was poetry, speaking without syllables. His kisses, his touch—every movement of his lips and tongue—proclaimed what he hadn’t said out loud. Your body gave in, melting under the weight of his devotion, your mind consumed by him.
“Don’t leave me again, please,” he murmured as he positioned himself, slowly sliding into you. A low, guttural sound escaped him as he felt you, tight and warm, pulling him deeper. He missed you so much that he's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—apologies, regrets.
"Please," His touch was gentle, even as his thrusts inside you grew more desperate. He cradled your head, kissed away your tears, and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m in love with you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It’s always been you.”
“I love you…” he murmured, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss as you both unravelled together, bodies trembling in unison. Your thighs clenched tightly around his waist, and he repeated the words softly into your ear, like a prayer he needed you to hear.
"Beomgyu," You whispered his name and it made tears well up in his eyes. His hand gently pushed the damp strands of hair from your face, and he pressed tender kisses along your cheeks, your temple, and your jaw. When he noticed your tears, he wiped them away without hesitation, his touch careful and soothing.
“Shh, angel,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed the crown of your head, and his hand moved in calming strokes up and down your back. “I’m sorry… for everything.”
You had come here to end it. To finally say the words that would close this chapter for good. You’d rehearsed it in your mind, telling yourself you’d leave with your head held high.
But all of that clarity blurred with every kiss he gave you, every whisper of your name that fell from his lips. Every I love you, over and over again, spoken like a spell meant to undo you. And it did. The walls you had worked so hard to build these past seven months—brick by painstaking brick—began to crack and crumble.
And when he pulled you closer, his arms tightening around you like he couldn’t bear to let go, you felt yourself falter completely. Because no matter how much resolve you thought you had, it was never enough when it came to him.
Two fractured bodies came together, love-making to each other to chase away all the scars and time passed.
The papers meant to sever, to declare the ending—lay discarded on the floor, forgotten.
The brightness of the room stings your eyes as they flutter open. You blink, disoriented, your chest tightening with a familiar weight. Panic creeps up, sharp and unforgiving. He must have left. He must have slipped out of bed again, leaving you to wake up alone.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Beomgyu’s voice is soft, tinged with concern as he gently cradles your face in his hands. He had woken up before you, the morning light spilling across the room, but leaving the bed felt impossible. Not when you were curled so closely against him, your bodies still tangled under the warmth of the sheets.
He stayed, wrapping himself around you, his chest pressed to your back, his arms holding you. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the faint scent that now feels like home. It was quiet—so quiet—until he felt the faint tremble on your body. His grip tightened instinctively, his voice barely above a whisper as he called out to you again. “Y/N,"
You blinked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. Turning your head, your eyes met his—heavy-lidded and soft with sleep. His arms tightened around your waist. A shaky breath escaped your lips, your chest tight as tears welled in your eyes. You tried to hold them back, but they came anyway.
Beomgyu’s thumb brushed against your cheek, catching the first tear as it slipped down. He didn’t miss a thing. His gaze traced every flicker of emotion on your face. He opened his mouth, ready to ask what was wrong again, but you spoke first,
“You finally stayed.”
Your words made him froze. Guilt settled heavy in his chest, as he pulled you impossibly closer. His forehead pressed against yours, lips hovered so close to yours.
“I won’t ever leave. Every day, you’ll wake up, and I’ll be here. Right by your side.”
Beomgyu was different, so different it made your heart ache in the best way.
He was there, every single step, helping you out of bed like it was second nature. You had to practically fight for the simple dignity of showering alone, and even then, he lingered just outside the door, making sure you were okay.
And when it was his turn to ask for something, “Please cook for me again,” he’d said, his voice begging.
So you did. You made the soup, the very first one you’d ever cooked for him back in college. As the soup simmered, Beomgyu started to talk. He told you about Ji-won, about his unexpected interaction with Sunghoon, and how he’d rejected Ji-won long before he even knew the full truth. He spoke with an honesty that left no room for doubt, his words meant only for you.
When your mind wandered, when your eyes drifted away, Beomgyu noticed. He always noticed. His fingers would gently close around yours, pulling you back to him. He’d press soft kisses to your palms, his touch saying more than words ever could: Stay with me. I’m here.
“This is too good,” Beomgyu groaned after his first sip of the soup, you know see his face lighting up like what Sunghoon told you about. His hands cradled the bowl, and you couldn’t help but notice the glint of his ring, the one he refused to take off. It made you looked down at your own hand, there it was—your ring, the one Beomgyu fought for last night.
You took a small sip, letting the warmth spread through you. But it did little to settle the weight in your stomach. There was still something left unsaid, something you hadn’t found the courage to tell him yet. “Beomgyu,”
He squeezes your hand—the one he hasn’t let go of, even while eating. His arm stretches across the table to hold yours, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hmm?” he hums.
“Back in the hospital…” you begin, your voice trembling with of what you’re about to say. You feel his gaze shift to you, “I had a… I had a miscarriage.” You swallow hard, forcing yourself to continue. “I lost our child.”
The silence that follows is unbearable. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your eyes fixed on the half-eaten soup in front of you. The warmth in his hand disappears, and your heart sinks. When you hear the sound of his chair scraping against the floor, dread floods your chest. He’s walking away.
But then he’s there, beside you. He pulls out the chair next to yours and sits down. When he leans forward to pull you into his arms, it’s like the air returns to your lungs. He guides your face to rest against his shoulder. His arms come around you, holding you close.
“I know,” he whispers, “Soobin told me.”
Your breath catches, and your chest feels both heavy and light at the same time. “I went to him every day, you know,” he continues, his hand running soothing circles on your back. “It’s hard not to. I couldn’t stay away. He… he got me.”
You exhale shakily, your body relaxing into his. The faint memory of flowers on your baby's grave—ones you couldn’t remember bringing yourselfl floats to the surface. It all makes sense now. Beomgyu had been there, mourning as you did.
Your hand never leaves Beomgyu’s as he drives.
The road feels both too short and too long, leading you to the place you’ve come to know too well. It’s green here, peaceful and impossibly beautiful in a way that feels both comforting and heartbreaking. He parks the car, steps out, and circles around to open your door. His hand finds yours again as you step out, and together, you walk the path you’ve walked before.
In your other hand, you hold the small bouquet—a gift for the little one who rests here now, your little angel. You kneel gently, placing the flowers at the grave. Beomgyu crouches beside you, his gaze fixed on the name etched into the stone.
Beomgyu’s voice breaks the silence, trembling as he whispers, “Daddy’s here with Mommy now, just like I promised you.” His words catch in his throat, and he pauses, his head bowing slightly as he tries to gather himself. “I told you I could do it,” he continues, his voice shaking, raw with emotion. “Daddy’s so sorry for everything. I promise I’ll take care of your Mommy. I’ll take care of her, I swear. You just play up there, okay? Don’t worry about us. Mommy and Daddy love you more than anything.”
Your heart aches at his words, and you press closer to his side. His arm finds its way around your shoulders, holding you tight. You cling to him just as fiercely, your bodies leaning into one another, trying not to fall apart in front of the greatest what-if of your lives.
I can’t wait to see you, wife. Almost there. I love you.
The corners of your lips tugged into a smile as you read your husband’s text. It had been a week since you decided to reconcile. And in those seven days, he had kept every promise, showing you with quiet consistency that he meant every word.
Reaching for your perfume, you lightly spritzed it onto your pulse points. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, smoothing the fabric of your dress, a small flutter of nerves in your chest.
The past still lingered, it wasn’t something that could just disappear. There were nights you woke up gasping, caught in the grip of nightmares. But the smoke always seemed to lift the moment you heard his voice, the way he whispered comfort like he could chase away the darkness with nothing but his presence. It was a start.
You spent the weekend at your parents’ house. When you told them you were giving your marriage another chance, their eyes had softened, and they gave you their support. And now, here you were, waiting for him—your husband—who was on his way to take you on your first date.
Married for almost three years, and are going out for your first date. The date he’d practically begged for, pouting for hours until you finally agreed, because he said he wanted it.
A beginning.
You make your way down the stairs. When you reach the bottom, your eyes land on Yeonjun, lounging on the couch, his fingers absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. He doesn’t notice you at first, but the moment he does, he sets it down without hesitation.
Walking over to him, you don’t give him a chance to say anything. Your hands gently cup his face, and before he can react, you press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Yeonjun,” you say softly, standing in front of him now, your gaze grateful. “Thank you. For everything.”
Your words seem to light him up. A smile spreads across his face, and he attempts one of his signature winks, a clumsy one at that. It’s so bad it makes you both break into laughter, the sound echoing warmly in the room. “Anything for you, Y/N,” he replies, he stands up and asks for another hug from you.
"Take care, always, okay?" You nod to his shoulders. Grateful to this man who did things for you, without asking anything back.
After saying your goodbyes to Yeonjun, you step outside, your eyes sweeping across the open space in front of the large doors.
Beomgyu leans casually against his sleek black velvet car, the deep color almost absorbing the light, while Soobin stands beside him, mid-conversation. There’s a quiet ease between them, the kind that makes you pause. When they notice you approaching, Soobin pats Beomgyu’s back, their exchange winding down as they mutter their farewells.
They look like... brothers.
The sight tugs at your heart. When you told Soobin about Beomgyu’s promises, you weren’t sure how he’d react, but it felt like he already knew. “He’s the only one who doesn’t realise how much he loves you,” Soobin had said, his voice certain. “I saw it, starting back at the hospital. It was all over his face.”
Now, as you reach him, you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug that speaks more than words ever could. “I love you, Soobin.” you say, the words soft but full of conviction.
Soobin holds you for a beat longer than usual, his hand resting lightly on your back. He feels nothing but peace in his chest.
Maybe now, he can start chasing his own happiness too.
Beomgyu watches silently as you pull away from Soobin, his gaze never leaving you. When your eyes meet his and a soft smile spreads across your lips, his chest tightens. You’re beautiful. So achingly beautiful that it feels like his heart might splinter under your stare.
When you reach him, he leans down without a word, brushing a quick kiss against your lips. He knows he needs this. He knows he needs you.
Because without you, there’s no him.
The day felt like stepping back in time, a snapshot of a younger, simpler you.
It started with the movies, where Beomgyu would lean in for quick, stolen kisses during the darker scenes, his grin impossible to resist. Then came the arcade; a chaotic mix of flashing lights and laughter. He was relentless in his mission to win you a comically oversized teddy bear, to the point of nearly bribing the poor guy running the booth. When he finally succeeded, he held it up like a trophy, his smile as wide as the bear itself. For a moment, it felt like you were back in college, like this could’ve been one of your carefree dates from those days.
Now, you’re crammed into a photo booth together, squishing shoulder to shoulder as the timer counts down. Two grown, married adults pulling silly faces at the camera like teenagers. The faint hum of the machine is drowned out by your shared giggles, and you can feel the curious stares of actual teenagers nearby. They’re probably imagining your life is perfect, the kind of love they dream about. If only they knew how far from perfect it’s been... how much work it’s taken to get here.
When the photo strip finally slides out, Beomgyu grabs it first, holding it up with a burst of laughter. “Look at you, sweetheart,” he says, pointing to one particularly goofy expression you made. His laughter is infectious, and soon you’re both doubled over, bumping to each other as you cackle uncontrollably.
Beomgyu—who always seems so composed, so maddeningly serious, looks nothing like that version of himself when he laughs. He’s wide-eyed and carefree, his joy as pure as a child’s, and it’s beautiful. It heals you. Every day with him feels like this, a discovery, a new layer to peel back, something new to fall in love with.
“God, I love you,” he says suddenly, making your heart flutter.
“I love you too,” you whisper, the smile on your face softening as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. The squeals from the teenagers outside are instant, and you roll your eyes, laughing as you glance at them—your accidental audience, swooning over the two of you like you’re straight out of a rom-com, like they’ve just witnessed something magical.
And maybe they have.
It doesn’t matter if it’s slow, or if it took longer than it should have. Life isn’t perfect, and neither are people. Everyone deserves a second chance, just like the one you gave your marriage. Just like the one it deserved. It may have started off messy in ways you couldn’t imagine fixing, but that didn’t mean it had to end the same way.
The road ahead still feels long, but you’re learning to let go. Of the doubt that whispered you’d never make it. Of the pain. Of the mistakes and the past that clings to you. Even the scars, the ones you thought would never fade. Letting them go is the only way forward, the only way to move on.
Only then can you begin again.
You glance at Beomgyu, his fingers laced with yours, his grip gentle as he leads you out of this place. His head tilts slightly as he looks back at you, and there it is—that boyish, cheeky smile that has the power to make your heart skip.
All you have to do is surrender.
This surrender is not in defeat, but in trust. Trust in him. Trust with his promises. Trust in the hope of something better.
Trust in yourself.
You’ll be okay.
𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝒩𝒟.
practical
★ synopsis: a day before valentine's day, kang taehyun notices your lingering gaze on couples with roses and chocolates. he teases you about practicality, his logic sharp as ever, yet the next day unfolds with deliberate surprises that blur the line between reason and something deeper. what begins as a calculated escape ends in warmth you never expected—subtle, intimate, and undeniably his.
★ pairing: boyfriend!taehyun x fem!reader
★ genre: fluff, romance, eventual smut (18+ mdni!) with a plot, established relationship
★ song reco: bad - wave to earth
★ status | word count: completed | 6.8k
★ao3: practical
note: first taehyun fic! a valentine's day inspired one for our february baby <3
i added the word count because someone asked me to add word counts to my posts! i’ve added it to past works and will continue moving forward! (i didn't know it was helpful to readers so thank you to the one who asked me to add it!)
happy valentine's day and enjoy! <3
The late afternoon sun slanted through the tall glass windows of the café, turning the wooden tables into warm amber patches.
Outside, the streets of Seoul buzzed with an unusual energy for February 13th—couples everywhere, laughing, arms linked, carrying those telltale red-and-pink paper bags from florists and chocolatiers. Bouquets of roses wrapped in cellophane rustled against coat sleeves; heart-shaped boxes peeked out from under scarves.
It was as if the city had decided to rehearse Valentine's Day a day early, everyone eager to beat the crowds tomorrow.
You sat across from Taehyun at a small corner table, your iced Americano sweating rings onto the coaster. He was slouched comfortably in his chair, legs stretched out under the table so his sneakers brushed yours every now and then. His black button-up shirt was pulled up his elbows just enough to show his veins whenever his hands flexed as his observant eyes flicked toward the window every few seconds.
A young couple passed right by the glass, the girl clutching an enormous bouquet of white peonies and red tulips like it was a trophy. The guy beside her balanced a gold-foil box of chocolates in one hand and her waist with the other. They were giggling about something, heads bent close.
Taehyun's gaze lingered on them for a beat longer than necessary then he leaned forward, elbows on the table, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"They're a day early, aren't they?" he said, voice low and amused. "Valentine's isn't until tomorrow. What's the rush?"
You followed his line of sight, watching the couple disappear around the corner. "Maybe they just couldn't wait. Or they hate lines."
He snorted softly, the sound more exhale than laugh. "Still. Flowers wilt in like, twelve hours if you don't put them in water right away. And chocolate? Melts if you carry it around too long in this weather. Not practical at all."
He tapped his fingers once against the table, decisive. "Waste of money if you ask me."
You couldn't help but chuckle, the sound bubbling up warm and familiar. It was classic Taehyun—cutting straight through the sentimentality with that razor-sharp logic of his. Always observing, assessing, and deciding what actually made sense. No fluff, no wasted effort.
He'd always been like this, ever since the early days when he'd show up at your door with a single rose and a box of dark chocolate truffles, eyes bright with that boyish excitement. Back then, you'd smiled politely, thanked him, and after a few dates gently nudged him toward practicality.
"You know I'd rather you just... got me something useful," you'd told him once, laughing to soften it. "Like coffee. Or that new phone case I needed. Flowers are pretty for a day, but then they're just trash."
He'd looked at you for a long second, processing. Then he nodded once, sharp and final. "Got it."
And that was that. The flowers stopped and the chocolates became rare treats only on your birthday or when he felt like spoiling you with zero occasion.
Instead, he started showing up with your favorite iced latte on stressful days, or a new pair of wireless earbuds when yours broke, or tickets to that indie band you'd mentioned once in passing.
Practical.
Efficient.
You never regretted saying it because you were the same as he was. Practical. Thoughtful in the way that actually lasted.
But sometimes, on days like today when the city smelled like roses and sugar, a tiny, secret part of you wondered what it would feel like to be one of those girls carrying armfuls of petals home.
Taehyun caught your expression—the slight softening around your eyes as another couple walked by with matching red heart balloons. He tilted his head, studying you the way he studied everything: quick, thorough, no detail missed.
"What?" he asked, voice teasing but gentle. "You want one?"
You rolled your eyes, nudging his foot under the table. "Don't start. You know I'd just complain about the pollen."
"True." He grinned, all teeth and mischief. "You'd sneeze for three days straight and blame me."
"Exactly." He leaned back again, stretching his arms above his head until his shirt rode up just enough to show a sliver of toned stomach. Casual. Effortless. The kind of movement that still made your pulse jump after all this time.
"Anyway," he said, dropping his arms and picking up his own drink, "we're not doing any of that tomorrow."
You raised an eyebrow. "No?"
"Nope." He set the cup down with a soft clink. "Got something better planned."
"Better than flowers and chocolate?" you teased.
He met your eyes, steady. "Way better."
There was no elaboration. Just that quiet confidence, the kind that came from already having everything mapped out in his head. Taehyun didn't do vague promises; when he said something was handled, it was.
You let it drop, content to let the mystery sit. That was another thing about him—he loved surprises, but only the kind he controlled. The kind where he could see the variables, calculate the outcome, and know it'd land perfectly.
The two of you finished your drinks in comfortable silence, his foot still brushing yours every so often like an absentminded anchor. When you stood to leave, he automatically grabbed your bag before you could, slinging it over his own shoulder.
Outside, the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of street food and exhaust. Couples were still everywhere, posing for photos with their bouquets, laughing as petals caught in the wind. Taehyun slipped his hand into yours without fanfare, fingers threading through yours with the ease of long habit.
"Tomorrow," he said as you walked, "wear something comfortable. No heels."
You glanced at him sideways. "Mysterious."
He just smirked again. "You'll see."
That night, you lay in bed replaying the café moment, the way his eyes had flicked to those couples, the quick logic that dismissed the romance as inefficient, the easy way he'd shut down any hint of wanting it himself.
It didn't sting, exactly. You knew him. Knew he showed love in actions that stuck around longer than a vase of flowers ever could. Still, as you drifted off, you let yourself imagine—just for a second—what it would be like if he ever decided practicality could include a little impracticality.
The next morning was Valentine's Day and it dawned cold and clear and you woke to the smell of coffee already brewing in your kitchen.
Taehyun must have used his spare key; he did that sometimes when his schedule let him steal early hours. You padded out in oversized sweats and fuzzy socks, hair still messy from sleep. He was at the counter, pouring two mugs, wearing a black hoodie paired with dark jeans and sneakers that looked ready for walking. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd showered recently, and the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows.
"Morning," he said without turning around. "Coffee's ready. Black, like you pretend to like when you're trying to be healthy."
You laughed, sliding onto a stool. "I do like it black sometimes."
"Sure you do." He turned, sliding your mug across the counter. Then he leaned against the edge, arms crossed, watching you take the first sip.You noticed the small paper bag on the counter beside him—simple brown kraft, no ribbon, no hearts. Practical packaging.
"What's that?" you asked, nodding toward it.
He followed your gaze, then shrugged one shoulder. "Open it later. After we eat."
Breakfast was quick with toast, eggs he'd scrambled with precision, and fruit sliced into neat pieces. He ate standing up, scrolling through his phone with one hand, occasionally glancing up to make sure you were eating too.
When the plates were cleared after he insisted on washing them himself, he finally picked up the bag and held it out.
"Here."
You took it curiously, noticing how it was heavier than it looked. Inside, nestled in tissue paper was a pink thermos, matte finish, the kind that kept drinks hot for twelve hours or cold for twenty-four. Engraved on the side in small silver lettering was your name.
You looked up at him, eyebrows raised and he rubbed the back of his neck, a rare flicker of something almost sheepish crossing his face.
"You always complain your coffee gets cold when we're out. Figured this would fix it."
You turned the thermos over in your hands, feeling the solid weight of it. It was exactly your style—minimal, functional, thoughtful.
"It's perfect."
"Good." He nodded once, satisfied. "Now grab your coat. We're leaving in ten."
The surprise unfolded piece by piece, the way Taehyun liked things: controlled reveals, each step building momentum. First, he drove you to a quiet park on the outskirts of the city, a small wooded area with winding trails and a frozen pond that reflected the sky like glass. He pulled a backpack from the trunk and slung it over one shoulder.
"Hiking?" you guessed.
"Sort of." He took your hand again. "Trust me."
The trail was easy at first, crunching leaves underfoot, the air sharp with pine. He walked ahead sometimes, pointing out little things like a bird's nest tucked in branches, a frozen stream that looked like twisted glass, his voice low and excited in that understated way of his.
.Halfway up, he stopped at a clearing. Someone had set up a small pop-up tent—nothing fancy, just insulated walls and a portable heater humming softly inside.
A folding table held a spread: sandwiches wrapped in parchment, fresh fruit, a thermos (that matched yours, but in a sky blue color) of hot chocolate, and—unexpectedly—a small Bluetooth speaker playing soft music.
You stared. "You planned this?"
He shrugged, but his eyes were bright. "Scouted it last week. Owner lets me use it sometimes when it's empty. Figured it'd be better than fighting crowds downtown."
Inside the tent, it was warm, cozy. Blankets on the floor, cushions. You sat cross-legged, watching him unpack everything with efficient movements before he reached into the backpack again.
This time, he pulled out a bouquet. It wasn’t huge nor extravagant. Just a tight bundle of deep red camellia and a few sprigs of eucalyptus for green contrast tied with plain twine.
Your breath caught as he held it out, casual as if handing you a water bottle.
"For you."
You took it slowly, fingers brushing his. "Taehyun..."
"Don't make a big deal," he said quickly, looking away toward the heater like it needed adjusting. "They're not roses. Roses are cliché and overpriced. These last longer, don't smell, won't make you sneeze. Practical."
You stared at the flowers, then at him. He was still avoiding your eyes, jaw tight like he was bracing for teasing but you didn't tease.
Instead, you set the bouquet carefully on the blanket beside you, then leaned forward and kissed him—soft at first, then deeper when his hands found your waist and pulled you closer.
When you pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, breath uneven."You said you didn't like flowers," he murmured against your lips.
"I said I didn't like wasteful ones." You touched the camellias gently. "These... aren't wasteful."
He exhaled a laugh, low and relieved. "Good. Because I wasn't sure. I kept thinking about yesterday—how you looked at those couples. Figured maybe I was missing something."
You shook your head. "You weren't. You just... you always give me what lasts."
He studied you for a long moment, then nodded once. "Yeah. But sometimes lasting includes a little stupid romance, right?"
"Right."
He kissed you again—this time slower, hands framing your face like he was memorizing it. When he pulled away, he reached into the bag one last time. A small box of dark chocolate truffles. The expensive kind he used to bring in the beginning of your budding relationship.
"Last surprise," he said. "Not practical. Just... because."
You laughed, the sound muffled against his shoulder as you leaned into him. "You're ridiculous."
"Logically ridiculous," he corrected, wrapping an arm around you.
Outside, the wind rustled the trees. Inside, the heater hummed, the music played softly, and the camellias sat bright against the blanket—proof that even the most practical heart could bend, just a little, when it mattered.
The rest of the day passed in lazy perfection: eating, talking, stealing kisses between stories. He told you about scouting the spot, how he'd tested the heater twice to make sure it wouldn't fail. You teased him for over-planning a "spontaneous" date and he just grinned, unbothered.
As the sun dipped low, painting the snow gold, he packed everything up with the same efficiency he'd arrived with. But before you left the tent, he picked up the bouquet and pressed it into your hands again.
"Keep them," he said. "Even if they die eventually. At least they lasted longer than the cliché ones."
You smiled, holding them close. “Of course,” you murmured, smiling small and soft. “I’m not letting these go anywhere.”
He nodded once—sharp, satisfied—then bent to zip the backpack. But he didn’t stand right away. Instead he stayed crouched there for a beat, looking out through the open tent flap at the trail disappearing into the shadowed trees. The first stars were already pricking through the violet sky, faint and cold.
“I wanted to stay longer,” he said suddenly, almost like the words had slipped out before he could catch them. “Watch the stars come out properly with you. Lie back, point out constellations, the whole thing.”
He huffed a short laugh, self-deprecating. “But the trail’s not lit. No markers past the first bend. If we wait too long we’ll be stumbling around in the dark, and I didn’t bring headlamps. Or a map. Or backup batteries.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the gesture quick and familiar. “Not worth the risk. We’d end up cold, lost, and then I’d have to carry you out piggyback while you complain on my back.”
You laughed—the sound bright against the quiet—and reached out to tug lightly on the sleeve of his hoodie.
“Always planning three steps ahead.”
He squeezed your hand once. “Next time,” he said, voice low and certain, “we stay for the stars.”
You smiled, holding the camellias a little tighter. “Next time,” you echoed.
His decision was practical, yes. But also, undeniably, romantic in the way only Taehyun could be: deliberate, thoughtful, and surprising.
The walk back down the trail felt different—not just because the light had shifted to that soft, bruised purple of late winter dusk, but because the camellias were still in your hands. Their petals caught the last slivers of sun like small dark flames.
Taehyun walked beside you, his pace deliberately slowed so you didn’t have to hurry. One hand was in his pocket, the other holding yours as he squeezed every few minutes like he was checking if you were still there.
He didn’t speak much on the descent but it wasn’t awkward. Silence was normal for him after something emotionally high-stakes. He processed in silence, turning the afternoon over in his head the way he’d turn a Rubik’s cube until every side matched.
You could almost see the gears moving behind his eyes—did the heater stay warm enough? Was the chocolate too bitter? Did the flowers feel like too much after all these months of steering him away from them?
You broke the quiet first. “You really planned all of this in a week?”
He glanced over, mouth quirking. “Ten days, technically. Had to wait for the owner to confirm the tent wasn’t booked.” A small shrug. “Wanted to make sure everything lined up. Weather forecast, sunset timing, how long the trail takes at your walking speed.”
You laughed under your breath. “You timed my walking speed?”
“Rough estimate.” He tapped his temple. “I pay attention.”
Of course he did. He always did.
He noticed you shivered when iced drinks sat too long, so he bought the thermos.
He noticed you always forgot gloves in winter, so last December he’d slipped a pair of thin, touchscreen-compatible ones into your coat pocket without a word.
The parking lot was nearly empty when you reached it. Only two other cars, both with couples still inside, windows fogged, probably stealing the last few minutes before heading home to whatever Valentine’s dinner they’d booked.
Taehyun unlocked the doors with a quiet beep and opened the passenger side for you out of habit. Before you could slide in, he stopped you with a light touch on your elbow.
“Wait.”
You turned. He was looking at the camellias again, then at you, expression unreadable for a second.
“I almost didn’t bring them,” he admitted. Voice low, like the confession cost him something to say out loud. “Kept thinking about what you said back then—how you’d rather have something practical. I didn’t want to… I don’t know. Make you feel like I wasn’t listening.”
Your chest tightened. “Taehyun—”
“But then yesterday at the café,” he continued, cutting himself off before you could interrupt, “you looked at those people with the big stupid roses and I could see it. Not jealousy, exactly. Just… curiosity? Like maybe part of you wondered what it felt like to be given the cliché thing anyway.”
He noticed that too, you thought.
He exhaled through his nose, short and sharp. “So I figured—worst case, you laugh at me and we use the flowers as kindling later. Best case…” He gestured vaguely at the bouquet. “You smile like that.”
You hadn’t realized you were smiling until he pointed it out.He rubbed the back of his neck again—the same nervous action from earlier in the tent.
“Anyway. Point is, I’m not gonna make it a habit. Flowers every week would be wasteful and you’d get sick of them in like, two months. But once in a while? When it actually means something?” He met your eyes, steady. “I can do that.”
The cold air stung your cheeks, but you barely felt it.
“You’re allowed to want things that aren’t one-hundred-percent logical, you know,” you said softly.
He huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well. Working on it.”
You stepped closer, rising on your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. For all of it. Even the illogical parts.”
He caught your waist before you could pull away, kissing you properly this time—slow, thorough, the way he did when he wanted to make sure you felt every second of it. When he finally let go, his forehead rested against yours for a beat.
“Get in,” he murmured. “Heater’s already on. Don’t want you freezing while I’m trying to be romantic.”
You laughed and slid into the passenger seat, cradling the camellias carefully on your lap like they were made of glass.
The drive back into the city was quiet again, but comfortable. Taehyun kept the radio low—some chill R&B playlist he’d made months ago because he knew you liked certain tracks. Every so often his fingers would find yours over the center console, thumb brushing your knuckles absentmindedly.
When you reached your apartment building, he parked but didn’t turn off the engine right away.
“Still early,” he said. “You hungry for actual dinner or…?”
You tilted your head. “You didn’t book anything?”
“Didn’t want to lock us into a time slot in case you hated the tent idea and wanted to bail early.”
Of course he’d think of that too. Contingency plans for everything.
“But there’s that ramen place you like” He continued, “the one with the spicy broth that makes your nose run. Or we can just order in. Your call.”
You considered it. The idea of sitting in a crowded restaurant right now, surrounded by other couples doing the full Valentine’s performance, felt suddenly exhausting. You wanted more of this—the two of you, no audience, no pressure.
“Let’s order in,” you decided. “And you’re staying, right?”
He looked almost offended that you’d asked. “Obviously.”
Upstairs, the apartment smelled faintly of flowers from the candle you’d burned last night. Taehyun kicked off his shoes by the door, hung both your coats, then disappeared into the kitchen like he lived there.
Which, functionally, he practically did.
You set the camellias on the dining table, arranging them in the only vase you owned—a plain white ceramic cylinder he’d bought you last summer because ‘your old one leaked and stained the wood.’
While he scrolled through the delivery app, muttering about how the restaurant always forgot extra chili oil unless you wrote it in all caps, you slipped into the bedroom to change.
Comfy sweats, one of his old oversized hoodies he left in your apartment months ago, and fuzzy socks. When you came back out he was already on the couch, legs spread, phone balanced on his thigh, looking completely at home.
He glanced up. Paused. His gaze did that slow sweep it always did when you wore his clothes—possessive, appreciative, a little smug.
“Looks better on you,” he said simply.You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the flush.
“Flattery isn’t practical.” you huffed.
“Doesn’t have to be.” He patted the cushion beside him. “Come here”
You curled into his side, head on his shoulder, legs draped over his lap. He wrapped one arm around you automatically, thumb rubbing slow circles against your upper arm through the fabric while the other kept scrolling until he hit submit on the order.
“Twenty-eight minutes,” he announced. “Plenty of time.”
You blinked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “Plenty of time for what?”
He didn’t answer with words.Instead he surged up, one hand cupping the back of your neck to hold you exactly where he wanted, the other sliding to your hip with a bruising grip, and kissed you hard.
It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming—teeth catching your lower lip hard enough to sting sweetly, tongue sweeping in deep and wet and possessive, stroking against yours in slow, deliberate drags that made your head spin.
You made a small, helpless sound into his mouth; he swallowed it greedily, tilted his head to take the kiss even deeper, licking into you like he was trying to taste every corner.
His hands then started roaming.
Everywhere.
One palm shoved up under the hoodie you were wearing, rough fingertips skating over the soft skin of your ribs, then higher, cupping one breast fully through the thin bra.
He squeezed firmly, his thumb unhurriedly circling the already-pebbled nipple until it ached, then pinching just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. The other hand slid down the curve of your spine, fingers splaying wide over your ass, kneading the flesh before pulling you down harder against the thick, insistent ridge of him straining behind denim.
You rocked instinctively, grinding down on the hard length of him; he groaned low and guttural against your tongue, the sound vibrating through your chest and straight to your core. He broke the kiss only to drag his open mouth along your jaw, down the sensitive column of your throat, teeth scraping over your racing pulse before he sucked a mark there—hard enough to bloom purple by morning, soft enough that you arched into it instead of pulling away.
“Plenty of time,” he repeated against your skin, voice rough and wrecked, lips brushing with every word, “to get you so wet I can feel you soaking through my jeans before the food gets here.”
The bluntness delivered in that calm tone sent a fresh gush of heat between your legs. He shifted you in one fluid motion, flipping your positions so your back hit the cushions and he loomed above you, one knee braced between your thighs, the other planted on the floor for leverage.
The hoodie rode up to your ribs and he didn’t bother fixing it, shoving it higher with both hands, bunching the fabric under your armpits, exposing the lace of your bra and the way your chest rose and fell in shallow pants.
His gaze dropped, dark and ravenous. “Look at you,” he muttered, more to himself, voice thick.
One hand closed over your left breast again, kneading slowly while the other yanked the bra cups down in a single rough tug. Your breasts spilled free into the cool air, nipples already tight and flushed.
He made a low, appreciative sound in his throat before leaning down and took one peak into his mouth. Tongue flat and hot, he circled once, twice, then sucked—hard, rhythmic pulls that matched the slow, deliberate roll of his hips down into yours.
The rough denim scraped against the thin barrier of your sweats, friction brutal and perfect against your swollen clit. You threaded your fingers into his dark hair, tugging hard. He growled around your nipple, before switching sides—teeth grazing the sensitive bud just enough to make you cry out before soothing it with slow, wet laps of his tongue.
His free hand slid lower, under the waistband of your sweats and past the damp lace of your underwear, straight to where you were already slick and throbbing. Two fingers parted your folds, slid through the wetness with obscene ease, then pressed flat against your clit in a slow, firm circle that made your hips buck.
“Fuck,” you breathed, head falling back against the cushion.
“Language,” he said against your breast, voice muffled and dark. “But I’ll give you a pass since that’s the response I want.”
He rubbed again—tighter circles now, pressure steady. “Twenty-five minutes left.” He breathed. “Plenty of time to map exactly how many times I can make you come before the doorbell.”
He sounded almost proud of his own ruthless efficiency. You would have laughed if your breath weren’t already coming in short, desperate pants.
You arched harder, chasing his fingers. He rewarded you by slipping one inside—slow, deliberate—curling immediately to that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
“Another,” you managed, voice cracking and hee didn’t hesitate. Second finger joined the first, stretching you beautifully, pumping in a steady, deep rhythm while his thumb took over your clit—small, relentless circles that never faltered.
The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers moving inside you filled the room, louder than your own ragged breathing. He lifted his head to watch your face—eyes locked on yours, pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of iris remained.
“Twenty-two minutes,” he rasped, voice wrecked but still steady. “You’re clenching so fucking tight already. Gonna come for me like this? All over my hand before the noodles arrive?”
You could only nod, words gone, hips rocking desperately onto his fingers. He kissed you again—messy, open-mouthed, swallowing every broken whimper as he worked you faster. Fingers curling deeper with every thrust, thumb pressing harder, the rhythm never faltering.
Practical.
Precise.
Devastating.
When you shattered it hit like a freight train, your back bowing off the couch, thighs clamping around his wrist, a choked cry tearing from your throat as pleasure ripped through you in sharp, blinding waves. He didn’t stop, just slowed his movements, curling gently to draw it out until you were trembling, oversensitive, gasping against his shoulder.
Taehyun withdrew his fingers slowly, glistening with your release, and brought them to his mouth—licking them clean with slow, deliberate swipes of his tongue while holding your dazed gaze shamelessly satisfied with what he’d done. Then he glanced at his watch.
“Eighteen minutes left,” he said, already working his belt open with one hand, the metal clinking softly. “Enough time to fuck you properly… and still have time to wash my hands before I tip the delivery guy.”
You laughed—breathless, dazed, thighs still shaking. He leaned down, kissed you softer this time, almost tender as he reached for the waistband of your sweats, tugging them along with your soaked underwear—down your thighs in one efficient motion.
“Lift,” he instructed, voice rough with want and you followed.
He shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough, freeing his cock—thick, flushed dark at the tip, already leaking. The sight of him made your mouth water, made fresh heat coil low in your belly.
He notched himself at your entrance, rubbing the head through your slick folds once, twice, coating himself until he glistened.
“Condom?” you asked, even as your hips lifted toward him instinctively.
“Already on the table,” he said, nodding toward the small foil packet he’d apparently placed there sometime in the last few minutes—because of course he’d prepared. “But if you want me bare tonight…”
You swallowed hard. “Yes. Please.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose, something almost feral flashing in his eyes.Then he pushed in slowly, letting you feel every thick inch as he stretched you open, until his hips met yours and he was buried to the hilt.
You both groaned—low, broken sounds that mingled in the quiet room.He stayed still for a heartbeat, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “So tight… so wet… so…perfect.”
“Language” you teased, repeating his words earlier and he just groaned.
Then he started moving.Slow, deep rolls at first—pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, grinding against your clit with every thrust. Each stroke dragged against that sensitive spot inside, building the pressure again impossibly fast.
“Feel that?” he rasped, voice wrecked. “How deep I am? How you’re taking every inch?”
You could only whimper, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. He picked up speed—harder now, hips snapping forward with controlled force, the couch creaking under you both. One hand braced beside your head, the other slid between you, thumb finding your clit again, rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts.
“Fourteen minutes,” he growled against your ear. “Gonna make you come on my cock before the timer runs out. Then I’m gonna fill you up so deep you’ll feel me all night.”
The filthy promise tipped you over the edge, coming with a cry, walls fluttering and clenching around him, milking him as wave after wave crashed through you. He fucked you through it, hips stuttering only when your spasms pulled a low, guttural moan from his throat.
When the aftershocks finally faded he slowed, grinding deep instead of thrusting, letting you ride the lingering pleasure.
Then he pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the loss, and flipped you onto your stomach, tugged your hips up, and slid back in from behind in one smooth stroke.
“Last one,” he murmured, voice strained. “Gonna come inside you now.”
He thrusted hard then—fast, deep, one hand wrapped around your hip, the other sliding up your spine to fist in your hair, pulling just enough to arch your back. The new angle let him hit even deeper, the head of his cock dragging against that spot with every brutal thrust.
You pushed back to meet him, desperate, needy sounds spilling from your lips.He reached around, fingers finding your clit again—rubbing fast, merciless circles.
“Come with me,” he ordered, voice breaking for the first time. “Now.”
You shattered a third time—harder than before, vision whiting out, body shaking as you pulsed around him. He followed seconds later—hips slamming forward one last time, burying himself deep as he came with a choked groan, spilling hot and thick inside you, pulse after pulse until you were both trembling.
He stayed buried inside you for a long, suspended moment, chest heaving against your back, forehead pressed to the nape of your neck. His lips found your skin there—soft, reverent kisses scattered along the sweat-damp curve, as though grounding himself in the aftershock. His arms bracketed you, one hand splayed wide over your stomach, holding you close while the other braced beside your head to keep his weight from crushing you.
Then he exhaled a long shaky breath and glanced at his watch one final time.
“Three minutes to spare,” he murmured, voice hoarse but satisfied. “Plenty of time to clean up… and still answer the door like nothing happened.”
He pulled out slowly—carefully—both of you hissing sharply at the sudden emptiness and the flare of oversensitivity. The slick heat of his release immediately began to slip out, warm and thick, trailing down your inner thighs. You felt it—intimate, messy, undeniable—and a fresh shiver ran through you at the sensation.
Taehyun noticed instantly.
Without a word he shifted back just enough to reach the side table. He’d already placed everything he might need within arm’s reach earlier—because of course he had: a small stack of soft tissues, a clean hand towel folded neatly, and an unopened bottle of water.
Practical. Ruthlessly prepared. Always three steps ahead.
“Stay here,” he murmured, voice still rough around the edges but steady again. “Don’t move yet. I’ll get the food. And a towel. And water.”
You nodded weakly, limbs heavy, body humming with aftershocks. The couch cushions were cool against your flushed skin as you collapsed fully onto your stomach, cheek pressed to the fabric, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne that clung to everything he touched.
He moved with that same efficient grace—jeans tugged back up just enough to be decent, belt loosely buckled, hair still a beautiful disaster. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and you heard the faucet run, the soft rustle of a fresh towel being pulled from the cabinet. Then, he was back, kneeling beside you on the floor.
He draped the warm, damp towel over your lower back first then gently guided it between your thighs, cleaning you with careful, unhurried strokes.No awkwardness, no hesitation; just quiet focus, like this was simply the next logical step in the sequence he’d already mapped out.
“You okay?” he asked softly, thumb brushing a soothing circle over your hip where his grip had left faint pink imprints earlier.
“More than okay.” You managed to say, releasing a small, blissed-out hum.
Without a word, he reached for the rucked-up fabric bunched around your ribs, now twisted high enough that your breasts and stomach were fully exposed to the cool air of the apartment. His fingers gathered the hem gently, tugging it downward in one slow, careful motion.
The soft cotton slid over your skin like a whisper—first covering your breasts, then gliding past your navel, finally settling at mid-thigh where it had always belonged on you. He smoothed it flat against your sides with both palms, fingers lingering at your waist for a second longer than necessary, as though making sure every inch of you was shielded again. The gesture was simple, almost absentminded, but the care in it made your chest tighten.
“There,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, voice low and rough from overuse.
He leaned down, kissed your temple, then stood again. The doorbell rang right on cue as he glanced at his watch, a tiny satisfied quirk to his mouth.
“Right on time.” he said, voice steady again, though his hair was still a complete disaster and there were faint red crescents from your nails on his shoulders. He adjusted himself one last time, smoothed his shirt down, and headed for the door—calm, collected, utterly composed.
You watched him go, boneless and blissed-out, legs still weak, a stupid, happy smile tugging at your lips as the scent of spicy ramen began to drift in from the hallway.
He set everything on the coffee table, then came back to you with a bottle of water already uncapped.
“Drink,” he said, sliding an arm under your shoulders to help you sit up slowly. “Hydration first. Then food.”
You took the bottle with shaky fingers, sipping while he arranged the containers—chopsticks, extra chili oil (he’d remembered to request it in all caps), napkins fanned out neatly. Only when you’d taken a few solid swallows did he finally let himself sit beside you, pulling you gently against his side.
The ramen was perfect—broth spicy enough to make your eyes water, noodles springy, extra chashu because he remembered what you liked, and it was still steaming as he handed you your bowl first, then took his own.
You ate in a companionable quiet for a while, the only sounds were the soft slurp of noodles and the occasional satisfied hum from him when he got a particularly good bite. Halfway through your bowl you caught him watching you again.
“What?”
He shook his head once. “Nothing. Just… glad you liked today.”
“I loved today.”
“Good.” He set his chopsticks down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Because I was ninety-two percent sure you would, but there’s always that eight percent margin for error.”
You snorted. “You’re such a nerd”
“Maybe” He leaned back, stretching both arms along the couch behind you. “But it made today successful. I calculated the weather, your mood after work yesterday, whether you’d think the tent was weird instead of cozy, whether camellias would feel like a cop-out compared to roses…” He ticked them off on his fingers. “High confidence overall.”
“You’re insane.”
“Logically insane,” he corrected, the smirk returning—slow, self-satisfied, the same one he’d worn when he’d announced the twenty-eight-minute countdown earlier.
You leaned over and kissed the smirk right off his face, tasting the lingering spice of chili oil that still clung to his lips from dinner. He hummed into it, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing the soft skin just below your ear in a gentle, absent rhythm.
When you finally pulled back, foreheads resting together, his breathing was steadier but his eyes were still dark, pupils blown wide in the dim lamplight.
Even when the practicality included making sure you came three times, came inside you exactly as promised, cleaned you up efficiently with warm towels and careful touches, and still had the ramen piping hot when it arrived—he’d managed all of it without ever breaking that calm, deliberate focus of his.
You shifted then, swinging one leg over to straddle his lap properly again, thighs bracketing his hips. The bowls were already safely on the coffee table; there was no risk of knocking them over. The hoodie he’d tugged down earlier bunched comfortably at your waist now, soft cotton riding up just enough to let his hands settle on your lower back, palms warm through the fabric, holding you close without any urgency.
He exhaled softly against your mouth, the sound almost a sigh of contentment.
“Still think flowers are impractical?” he murmured, voice low and rough, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.
You laughed—weak and happy, the sound muffled against the crook of his neck where you’d tucked your face.
“I think you’re allowed to be a little impractical sometimes,” you whispered back, fingers threading lazily through the damp strands at his nape. “Just… don’t make it a habit. I’d hate to lose the version of you who times everything down to the second.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, the vibration rumbling through his chest and into yours. “Deal,” he said simply.
He leaned in and kissed you once more—slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world now that the countdowns were over, the ramen bowls sat empty on the coffee table, and the apartment carried the quiet, intimate perfume of spicy broth, lingering sex, and the clean notes of camellias drifting from the side table.
His mouth moved against yours with deliberate tenderness— lips brushing, parting, tasting, no rush to deepen it further. Just savoring. One hand slid up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking the soft skin beneath your ear in lazy, soothing arcs; the other stayed splayed at the small of your back, fingers pressing just firmly enough to keep you anchored against him, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.
When he finally drew back only far enough that your breaths mingled, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded and dark with something softer than hunger now. The lamplight painted warm shadows across his sharp features, turning the faint red marks from your nails into quiet proof of everything that had come before.
He didn’t speak right away but exhaled once, long and steady, like he was letting the last of the day’s careful calculations slip away.
Outside the window, the city glittered with Valentine’s lights in pink and red and white. Couples were probably still walking around with wilting bouquets and half-eaten chocolate boxes but you didn’t care.
You had camellias on the table that would last another week at least, a thermos that would keep your coffee hot until next winter, and a boy whose heart operated like an extremely well-calibrated machine—precise, efficient, ruthless in its logic and still, somehow, capable of the softest, most surprising acts of love when it mattered.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby” he said, voice barely above a whisper, like the words were just for the space between you.
You rested your forehead against his again, breathing him in.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Taehyun.”
And for once, he didn’t bother calculating the odds.
He just held you tighter.
Spin Me On Broken Feet ⋆♱✮♱⋆
── .✦ pairing: k.th x reader
Outliers in the picture-perfect frame of an ideal society, a convict’s daughter and a runaway son, you’re subject to the piercing expectations that hold no value. There’s no place on this dismantled earth for you to run back to and call ‘home’, but there is an alleyway in the grimiest slums of the next city that’s better than nothing for the outcasted. ⋆.˚
╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead...
…or in simple words… ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ!ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
ᝰ.ᐟ wc- 23.1k
mentions !! and warnings !! blood/mild gore, substance use, cheating mentions, like one mention of gambling, broken family dynamics, angst some comfort, death, gang violence + murder(crime and weapon use), arguing and derogatory lang, manipulation, corruption, oral!m rec, unprotected sex, dubcon, overstim, marking, degradation, dacryphilia, impact play, sadi + maso, dom!tyun, bullet wounds, finger gag, choking, some religious imagery(sin,salvation,heaven etc), cigarette burns (not in smut), slight public sex in empty space, ft.txt and enhypen
tyunningism’s note: Special thanks to Lily for helping me with the gunshot scene !!This fic is a heavy one so viewer discretion advised !! Spent a lot of time redrafting and it’s finally here <3 I’m like forced to post three taehyun fluff drabbles now after this. I tried to link my writing style somewhat similar to ghosting hehe but enjoy !!!
The old-fashion television flickers with static. Enough to drown out the rapturous malice of Humphrey who curses at each flick of the coffee-stained newspaper as he skims the headlines. Another street fight downtown in the peaceful suburbs; another stain that can't be scrubbed from your itching skin even if you bathe yourself in the strongest bleach— because they'll know where you scurried from. The smell that's carried with the lowest of the low.
Hilarious, isn't it? That you can be left growling for days in the rubble and grit of their trash that bleeds dirty blood with greed composed of money you could never dream of. News agencies are the first to bark at the government's attempts to integrate your class with the likes of the wealthier. A pathetic apology for being born into a stable of destitution disguised under the term 'Amenities and Welfare' than a response for help. Babies still squeal abandoned in the bulleting rain and children still roam with stolen sugar sticks and cigarettes for their incompetent fathers; tucked deep into the seams of their shorts where no one could take away their means for survival.
And you can still be that child—who now stuffs their hands and pockets full with half eaten microwaveable meals and leftover cheap liquor storing tiny sips left from the pub after Christmas. But the expectations you were held to at eight don't apply the same when you're sixteen. Nobody suspects a child of stealing when you're so little; scrambling back home on the pavements that crack with guilt from the nicked lollipops and chocolate coins falling through your hole-rich clothes. At sixteen you're unpreparedly pushed in to the expectations of adulthood. It doesn't matter if you still don't know how to read or fend for yourself on these streets, if you have the will to live and dig through takeout boxes to satisfy a growling stomach then you're just as capable of being a criminal like your convict of a father. Not you who stole from the small confectionery two blocks down? Not their problem. Because in these urine-stunk slums blood runs thicker than the sweat of your truthful work.
You were the first to blame in the basket of rotten eggs of other teens your age like their very own scapegoat. Some tatted with poorly done stick-and-pokes to embody their gambling fathers, others frail and sickly with the pungent mildew of their sorrowful mothers. And you lied in the epicenter of the scale; neither to return home to apart from a withering Humphrey who took you in when the calamitous rumors first began to spread.
'I heard that woman left for the first flight to Russia this morning. How horrible to not take the child with her—I guess the resemblance to that wicked man must have been too haunting for her weak mind.'
'Utterly foolish. Gamble, steal and smoke all you want. He just had to dirty his hands with his debt collector's blood—good riddance! We're already poor enough here and now we're going to be known as the neighbourhood of a murderer.'
'Don't play with her anymore Jaeyun, she's a bad influence.'
Invisible bounties were slotted above your head before you could clear your name.
A drink on me for whoever can find that murderer's daughter for me tonight.
Kids banter and mocking laughs they called 'karma'.
We don't have much but my parents would never stoop that low. Oops! Should've kept my mouth shut—please don't kill me next!!~
And worst of all when Jaeyun confronted you at the park two days after your sixteenth.
My mom's moving us out of here…not because of you—your dad. Just moving to another slum in town she says will be better for us.
You can't decide which one burns the end of your tongue more as you bite on your words. The fact that he lied to you about why he's moving when it's as clear as day in his mother's grimacing face or that he can't hide his own growing loathing for you when you look him in the eyes. He was once a kid who aspired to make it big in the city outside of these crumbling concrete cells you both refuge in; promising he'll never turn out like his broken family just like how you'll never end up like your indebted gambling parents. But there he goes as he runs back to the scratched assembly of suitcases to leave you by the swings— when you realised that he believes it too, doesn't he? That you can never truly be rid of the skin you're born with when everything on your face takes after his.
What use is there to cry when morbid tears bear heavier weight from the eyes of the debt collector's family than yours? You wanted to fly else where under a completely new identity where no one knew your name. Where your father's case didn't reach their ears so they couldn't see the resemblance. Like your mother in Russia, who left her trial at life behind in these dismal settlements, smiling with a new family to tend to with a foreign man than blot the dirt and coal of your face with warm water soaked on the ends of her night gown—which she wore for months on end day and night—whenever you got in to nasty trouble.
Had she have left a couple of bills of your dispersed family's life savings for you, then you probably would've hopped on to the bumpy course of a shuttle bus to the next city as well. You don't blame her for leaving, you yearn to be free of his shackles too.
In your twenties now, you're still outcasted even in a hell hole of heathens. Having settled in your father's best friend—Humphrey—‘s flat where all the windows are barricaded shut. In case one or two kids throw cheap fireworks and stolen goods through the gaps to incriminate you for good this time. Apart from the tallest roof-window in the attic you sleep in. Cramped, but better than being one of the unlucky few who fall asleep in even the direst settings of smashed plates and unfed infant wails, you'd much rather listen to Humphrey watch the evening channels to sunrise.
The roof-window is never closed unless in the events of a storm. Partially because on those restless nights, when all you can hear is the youth down below exchanging and swinging their knives with intricately designed blades instead of chocolate bars and gum, only the stars can soothe your wounds from this prejudicial town. The stars don't turn you away when you peek your head through the window, and in that sense, anyone can look up to those burning gas balls. Dirt poor or filthy rich-living on the other side of the city where the grass is greener and lush; the stars don't see you for anything more or less than them, it's what gives you faith that you're not an outlier anywhere else aside from this transient world.
On days that the stars don't appear and all you can do is warn the new generation of systemically impoverished children that their intricately beautiful knives won't keep their heads on their necks for long in a real violent fight—you look up for the planes.
Because then you can dream of the day your mother will return for you when she's healed her own hurt. Would she look plump with a face that's been pampered with towels of warm milk? Would she answer why she left you here alone?
You don't need to hear the answer to that frankly, you already know. And you've heard it countless of times from Humphrey to bother asking him again.
The old television is still flickering with static when you lift your head from your wandering thoughts; eyes flitting to check on the old man's mood before you ask for the repetition of the same story again.
"Humphrey," Brown strands of hair between greying ones are pushed back by the man's hand as he lowers his tilted glasses, "Did mom ever leave me a letter?—" The slam of his coffee mug dawns on you that by now you should've stopped trying, the screeching of his chair as he leans back to swindle the beer bottle from the counter stacked with dirty dishes dreadful to your ears.
"I wasn't going to drink tonight but you're really stubborn you are, butterfly." He would've drunk his sorrows away tonight anyway even without your nagging. He's holding on to the electricity bill with yellowing hands, not because he couldn't pay it off, but because paying it off meant that he'd have to cut in to your savings to move in to the next city once he's gone. 62…65 he lost count once he stopped caring, but his health is rapidly deteriorating for his age and it's showing.
"If that woman you're so keen on calling your mother wished you well that wench wouldn't have spent her lifesavings on a first-class ticket over two economies for her child as well." The worst thing is he's right about that part and it shatters your envisionment of her. But you’ll gladly pick up those shattered shards again to slowly build up the same falsified image—there's no heart in you to believe she's just as irredeemably wicked as your father.
His next advice doesn't sit as well with your stomach. "Your father at heart was never a bad man until he got stupid and laissez-faire with his work. You should know that better than anyone—blame it on him all you want but you have to realise that these very streets drove him to do it," The newspaper closes on itself from the gust of wind and at the same time you chew on the inside of your cheek, knowing that this conversation was headed down a path you didn't want to explore, one you wanted to close off completely. "Butterfly, as long as you don't mess around with your life and hand it over to some criminal thugs you won't be anything like him. Doesn' matter what they tell ya, you didn't murder someone so their words hold no truth until you do. Then this old man can't help you at all." Tell that to the people here…like they'd give a shit.
Pitch black empties through out the room in an ink that stains your words so you can't say them aloud anymore. The candle must've been blown out and that's you're sign for you to return back up those creaky floorboards of stairs to your room for the night. Even if you wanted to pick a fight with Humphrey over mentioning the male again in a defending tone the silence is all you need to keep your rocking relationship with the elderly male sailing in peace.
This time you don't give Humphrey a 'good night' but you really fucking wish you did.
Ramshackle wood creaks you awake earlier than the usual alarm of Humphrey's morning TV. The stars still haven't left their crests in the sky when you notice the ruckus of his coffee-machine whirring has been replaced with the rampage of footsteps; multiple, weighted with the consequences of their sins as the floorboards became creakier towards the attic.
The first instinct is to run. Don't look back for me, just go wherever your two feet can take you, he'll say but the dread filling up your lungs with stifling breathless air directs you inside the closet; dreary and compact with crawly creatures you'd prefer not to acknowledge.
Humphrey had warned you plenty about different guests who may show up without a prior letter nor stay for tea, and to every single one of them you're just fish food for their ulterior motives. So be hostile, be nasty. To them the lowest you can go anyway is be the daughter of a murderer—so don't try and suck up to those pot-bellied men and polish their shoes when they intrude through the doors. It means jack shit to the Lee’s circle.
"Fuck—it smells like dog piss in here."
"Stupid bastard can't do anything for himself can he?"
Baritone voices as rich as sweet wine bounce off the dented walls, but not quite sweet enough to blanket the red dye of that putrid stench of iron so nauseatingly strong it carries the burden of at least a hundred bodies on their culpable hands.
"What's so special about this one? I'll slit that lamb's throat the minute I find her for all this overtime." The silence you swore and tied your tongue to keep is broken by a choked gasp you failed to resist. Or at least you attempted to resist the dreadful clogging in your throat of whispered prayers and dire fear. For if God wanted to make your life so miserable he should be loving enough to spare you a chance to live when you've been on the route to death ever since the year you turned 16. They say, what use are prayers when Heaven has closed its gates on your foul blood? And you wish you had an actual answer to their insulting questions and not just faith that the group of men entering, no, invading the attic will leave without the extra effort of wasting a golden bullet on an already doomed soul.
"I heard something here—search the room." Shelves of dust-kissed books and skyscrapers of piled scrap crash down into the center of the tiny room, cluttering it further as more stringent curses fall from tight-screwed lips with every peltering blow to the furniture.
Hairs trailing down your neck raise on their ends in a shield of spikes when the reload of a gun rattles in your eardrums menacingly. It's not like you've never heard the deafening pelt of a bullet before; it may be the case somewhere uptown where chandelier-lit dinners are considered cheap if there isn't a dozen turkeys stuffed with a hefty price tag and relish for a starter, not here though. In these crime-stricken streets covered by a pall of the people's remorse and sin there's not one person who doesn't wield a gun of some sort outside of their grim homes, but knowing you're on the other side of the muzzle is far different from hearing the crackling of window-pane glass from your attic.
Like a deer in headlights, they've got you exactly where they wanted; enclosed and helpless beyond the loose hinges of the closet doors. Street rats can win a fight with bare fists alone, and the dealers on the street can get by just fine as long as this side of town's still yearning for that high every once in a while, when most of their calendar is wasted on begging for meagre dimes. You however have nothing. You find yourself stuck in a cycle where even the rock bottom of society, the lint of people's clothes look down on your weakness; no mouthpiece to defend you from their self-done exorcisms masked by slander; no will to fight anymore when you'd much rather find pain from the kicks to your dwindling legs than the cuts and bruises of their malignant stares. And as the closet is drawn open from the right all you can think of is what a cruel world this is.
Though when the moonlit sky cascades pitiful light inside of the glum space you don't expect to see the silhouette of black hair intervening it past the muzzle pressed snug to the cold-sweat of your forehead. If anything, you couldn't ignore the clash of night and day between the pressing indent of the gun and the look of horror that streamlined through the dip of his brows to the gape of his split lips; cracked dry with dried blood. You wonder if he finally saw through to you before the gun was slipped back in to his pocket following the shut of the closet.
"Nothing here." Accented, different and more mature from when your ears last picked up on it—like sandalwood—but nonetheless his.
"Goddamnit—just search!" Cramped palms criss-cross flat against your mouth to muffle the instability of your skipped breath; a heart racing faster than your limp body faint with fear could keep up. He gave you a chance in this plummeting slum, remembered the nights he would ease your suffering a little lighter on the broad of his shoulder; in your own little world. And the dagger of each hiss of his words as that shoulder became harder to reach with every step away from the rocking swings.
"Jay. The window's open. She must've left through there." You listen to each scramble of footsteps as they ascend towards the highest window of the attic and back downstairs in a huddle—gangsters, hitmen, you're not sure how to describe either of the lot exactly but you know well enough from growing up around here that they don't pull expressions like that. Not terrified when their finger is dancing around the trigger, not regretful when blood is smeared in clawed streaks down their ironed shirts.
When you believe they've all left from the silence upstairs you creak the closet open—
Click!— "Don't say a fucking word." That same pressure again, gun hammered to your forehead with a gloved hand soaked in rouge shutting you up with the sickly-sweet mix of coffee and metal. "Attagirl. Don't think we're all buddy-buddy like we used to be because I let you off this once. I'm already tying my shoes on the powerlines because of this and it doesn't mean jack to me whether I pull the trigger or not."
Bullshit Sim Jaeyun. His lips still quiver the same as they did on the nights the two of you had to share a meal to keep each other from starving. Still the same habit of focusing on his hands—equipped with a gun that shouldn’t have been in his life, in his possession—whenever he was caught up in a lie.
The glock falls on loose arms as he rushes to lag behind the flock of his folk. What a breakthrough Sim Jaeyun. It was like yesterday when he packed his belongings out of hatred for exactly what he's grown up to be now; a cold blooded murderer.
Ten minutes after they supposedly leave you search for the only bag you own under the landfill of books, broken wood and tilted drawers. The calm after the storm the saying goes, yet despite every hurricane and typhoon of depravity you've endured not once have you been embraced by nirvana, or at least something close to it. You can't stay here, they'll come back for you and Humphrey— so you pack all that's left intact in the attic: a pocket knife, some gum to suffice for the night, a flashlight and the savings you've earned alongside him.
Correction from earlier; they'll come back for you now that they're done with Humphrey. Two careful steps down the footprint dirtied carpet of the stairs and you'll be granted a welcoming gift at the very bottom. The old man's greyed hairs are tainted with that identical sickly-sweet stench reeking from Jaeyun’s shirt, mangled on the floor with his head twisted beyond human capability as he slumps on the last step—a wound far too grizzly to describe as a killing, a butchering more suitable to put it in to words.
The sharp tang of iron permeates the air in to a mingle of molding walls that sang shallow obituaries with every gut-wrenching step. Smells of death. Rotting smells no different to the bodies slumped in the streets—bony to the touch—before the authorities would find a useless Saturday to finally sweep them away a month later like disposing of crimped litter. And you hate to equilibrate your sympathy to the severity of their suffering but you've never encountered vexation so pure in anger to any other wrongdoing towards you that seeps through every pore of your skin in your trembling state.
Like thugs they treat your kind like a pigpen that they can loiter feed to for their own twisted amusement. The blood that you shed dirtier than anyone else's, saturated with impurities you cannot cleanse as dislodged milk teeth of your innocence bury themselves in the cavities of their hollow hearts. You see it clearer now, that Jaeyun no longer aspires to live the life of a good man nor does he seek comfort in the stars as you still do. He seeks an escape from his own torment with palms painted vermillion. Even if that meant rinsing the blood of people he looked up to the most from white cloths and hands unworthy of salvation.
It must be embedded into your nature to scamper in the most rodent-like way through weaving settlements built on rusting stilts and congested flats that loomed and twisted over themselves— a living labyrinth hemmed in by warped wood of knife carvings and tagging as patched rooftops slumped with a solemn drop of corrosive rain. Every boy on the street, still slack in their ripped shorts and soot-stormed shirts passed down from their brothers, trudges back home no earlier than 1 here. When it’s quieter, and the only voice that he can hear shouting is the soap opera playing whistling tunes as their mothers tend to yesterday’s broth for tomorrow’s supper. They’ll be entranced with ambitious eyes glued to the Hollywood dream they live through their television screens; carefree, they have it easy, and that’s all anyone born and dumped in to this manhole of a town can wish for.
It’s nearly impossible to climb this ladder to success when the silver-spooned are lifted halfway up this metaphorical climbing frame built on wealth and you’ve not even reached the first step with the mere nickels you stand upon for height. Hell, there’s not even a ladder offered to you at all— a splintered rope to cling on to that can only snap and drag you down further inside the abyss of the shunned. You can dream and beg every night in your unheard prayers but don’t wish for too much, oh no you shouldn’t get your fragile hopes up too early. For in this lifetime you can only get so far with the face of a killer knit between your brows and sunken into your drab eyes that weep for Humphrey as you slam your back in contact with the bus stop’s scratched plastic.
Crinkled greens are tucked into your sleeve as you peek for the headlights of the later shuttle buses through a low slipped hood over your panging head. 250 dollars rolled up messily by a rubber band; your life savings with Humphrey that’s always being cut into for drinks, dinner and debt, safely transferred and tucked from the empty cookie jar in the cupboard into your zip-up. Life savings that could easily be what one of them spend in a day, in their fireplace-warmed homes as obnoxious laughs fall from their wine-sipping lips, and half of it will be blown into thin air once you buy a ticket for the furthest you can go with the shackles of your past in this nobody-town.
You want to melt into the stitching of your clothes. The scent of Humphrey still lingers on the threading and your sobs are abrasive to your inflamed throat once tears become difficult to form in your red-stained eyes, the cries drowned out by the honking of a shuttlebus slamming on squeaky brakes as it skids towards your stop. Empty, then again at this time of night anyone who’s leaving to the city is up to no good, and those who are up to no good would much rather not be travelling in a dingy bus like this unless they want the cuffs on their wrists on the spot.
“Where to?” As you tread onto the bus the scent of lemon wipes and chemical disinfectant burns at your nose; scrubbed sore from tears and snot, and you don’t bother to question it nor look up at the driver past his lips as you mumble silently. “How far can I go with a hundred?” His chuckles ring irritatingly in your ear like he’s never heard anything funnier.
“There’s not much options with only a hundred. That’s bound to get you as far as Coles. Never got on the shuttle, have you?” Well, if a hundred could only get you as far as a 30-minute walk to Coles then there’s no reason to deny that financially you can’t have been on one before. “120 where can tha—”
“150 and I’ll take you to Alton an hour from here. Maybe half if I speed.” His straightforward cash-grab of your desperation boils shock all over your face as you flit through the crisp bills inside your sleeve; reluctantly shoving it forwards before you thumped your head on the windows of your seat towards the very back at an attempt to recover your much needed rest.
This jerk of a driver just has to be somewhere though because he speeds double the limit on flimsy and flat wheels that jump with each hitch of the road all the while laughing in sheer amusement. And you can’t help but stomach the unease within you as the driver laughs periodically in thin air, ignores all the traffic rules without a care in the world about the cameras or losing his job and you’re certain that bus drivers don’t usually bargain you for a pricier ticket to a destination that doesn’t read on the routes labelled on the bus. Coles…Perkins…Marinslow…Bay…along the list of viable destinations not a single read Alton.
“Where are you taki—”
“Here’s your stop in a record…32 minutes.” Suspicious in how quick he is to shut down any questions as you walk down to the front of the shuttlebus to stare at another slum no different to yours aside from the brickwork buildings and underground nightlife running through it. He can’t seriously drop you off somewhere that’s identical to what you wanted to leave so terribly. “There’s no bus stop here Mister.” That same irritating chuckle that vibrates lowly in uvula erupts from him and for the first time you lift your hood a little to judge that smug look on his lips. Male, much younger than you were expecting with a mole sharply dotted next to his nose with precision— deadly handsome in a sense you couldn’t describe.
“If I took you to the bus stop where the floor’s made of marble in Alton, you’re looking at sleeping on the streets for the night. So I’m doing you a favor sweetheart.” His words are laced with poison as he wets the bottom of his lips and you’re dying to tell him that you’ll be sleeping on the streets no matter where you go. With only a 100 to your name to keep yourself going before you could find a job in this stark city.
“A passenger of mine from earlier dropped this. Ruby. Not sure how real it is but you could probably pawn that for a hefty price. And keep it on your finger unless you want that goldmine to slip through the holes of your pockets.” The male slips a silver ring jeweled with a beautiful ruby gem in to your cold frosted palms which you swallow your pride to accept because it’s better than nothing to work with when your stomach growls with insatiable hunger. “Thanks.” Is all you can offer with your slim gratitude but you’re quick to run out of the automatic doors when you spot the small blood splatter missed by the Kleenex wipes, starchy crimson stained on the rails that reels you into an episode of gags as you disappear past one alleyway into another; where your two feet can take you.
Heaved breaths slow down in your chest when your stamina starts to give up on your throbbing ankles with a searching hand groping the indents of the rocky brick for balance. You’ve reached another endless alleyway with a protruding slab of concrete for a makeshift doorstep, one that you could mistake for a king sized bed plush with the softest duvet and mattress you could think of from how your head spins with exhaustion.
In the mechanical roar of passerby vehicles in this much busier city you find temporary rest on the miniscule surface of the block that carried the weight of you and your worries, strengthless eyelids fluttering shut into deep slumber as you try to accommodate the rough scratch of it against your skin.
It’s healing. Better to have the streamlined breeze of these squeezed alleyways cool the fire of your head than convince yourself not to dwell on Humphrey, the driver tonight, and Jaeyun. But how can you distract yourself from Jaeyun when all you can remember is the same disgust rooted inside his repentance? On that night by the swings when he spat those lies with a face playing nice you should have known better what he really thought of you with those fingers curled tighter around his suitcase, pleading to leave, than the curl of his reluctant arms around your pitiful self. You’re still met with that same old coldness to the new profanities in his speech, and you let those profanities stir your mind into fatigue that eventually transitions into sleep.
“Sorry sweetheart, this one might hurt.” The impact of the wooden baton swung to the backside of your resting head leaves a trail of scarlet which will be left unnoticed upon other pools of reds around the manlier arms heaved under yours; the pain barely tinging in your knocked state.
“Be more gentle next time Kai, that’s a girl in your arms.”
Criminal conversations are shrouded by the explicit of criminal exchanges that run through the fissures of the eroded brick and seep through drains pouring blood-washed water in this peril-estranged city. From above the hills where it’s visible how the flats leaned into the labyrinths of alleyways; a white motorbike wipes the sand and dirt into thin air as it halts.
“Get a move on, Sunghoon.” The male leant against the peeling paint of the shuttlebus discards of his gloves down below onto an empty street. A small souvenir for whoever may be unlucky enough to find it that ParadoXXX aren’t leaving with another round of bloodied noses, they’ll emerge from these slums with Eternally crawling at their feet— sights he’s desperate for as he straddles the back of the motorbike. “I knew I’d find her by the shuttlebus stops. Heeseung’s ought to introduce his cousin to me after this.”
Cold and mucky water launches and drenches the hair that now sticks and swirls on your face. It trickles down your lips that split apart into shocked gasps and choked coughs on the linen shoved as a gag halfway down your throat; the back of your head numbed to the touch with a dull ache you can’t soothe, nor rub with your hands tied double-knotted behind the mahogany backrest of the chair.
“Ah Shit— the girl’s awake. How’s the head?” Restrained legs try their best to kick and squirm for even the littlest movement prohibited by the coarse rope cutting the blood flow to your feet. Two men in the room study your panicked self with cautious— preying on their successful hunt already with their shrewd eyes. The one who asks you the question leaves the dip of his seat in a tattered sandbag, smudged eyeliner to match the choppy layers of his long hair streaked with blonde, yawning with outstretched arms like he’s been in the same position for hours. “Ah-ah girl. If you’re any smarter you should know not to kick and make a fuss. I’ll let you speak so be good.”
Calloused hands brush the wet of your lip, pressing against the fat to widen your mouth as he digs two blood-soiled fingers to pinch at the linen cloth. “Ack— cough— fucking bastard let me go!”
“If feisty is how you want to play, be my guest. Or, you could sit still for— 10 seconds? Anytime soon he’ll be here.” The room stinks of rain dew from the leak in the ceiling; blotched stains on the basement’s walls of fluids you’d rather block out of your head and keep your mouth shut for if you knew what’s best. And the male busy brandishing his pistol doesn’t even spare you a glance through his ash blonde ends of hair— finding his time more worthy of that kill-count multiplier than your measly life.
Struck right in the centre of the wall behind you is the concave of a staircase that leads further up than you can see, but you can make out the all too familiar stampede of footsteps that stick to the steps with murderous intent emanating from each one of them; those men again…back at the attic with Jaeyun.
“Awake? Sorry about the surprise little-one, Kai here is still learning to wield a bat but I guess he needs to learn the difference between knocking-out and intended murder.” Slicked back hair with gel-slathered strands are left messily at the front of the speaking male’s face as if he tried to make himself look presentable, failing in the aspect once you look down at the stylistic choice of rips and holes in their clothes— holes that you hate the sight of.
Gangsters; don’t care how they look to others as long as they’ve got something to slaughter to stoke a laugh, don’t worry about anything as long as they have a gun to pave their way on these vulnerable streets. These lot don’t wear flashy gold chains stolen from the high-end jewellery branch up north. But they certainly aren’t in any state to all be wearing the same knitted off shoulder with holes boring into each patch of fabric; yarn and thread hanging loose to fabricate some sort of struggle—like they’d know anything about real struggle. You don’t need to go out of your way to find some niche designer who’ll make clothes that would belong on people like you; holes stretched from wear and tear every time it would get caught on the edges of hotel trash cans as you dug for the crust of toast served during English breakfast; holes ripped from the seams by the persecuting shoves and brutal scratches of street rats no different to yourself. Never have you ever laid your hands on anyone to be deserving of the title ‘Murderer’, and here these gangsters are swinging their knives recklessly to kill for the rush of adrenaline for that title you so badly want to scrub from your tampered skin, drain from your blood and wash from your face.
“If you wanted me, why would you go for Humphrey? Nothing disgusts me more than gangsters who don’t understand shit.”
Triggered by your loud mouth the forged smirk of hospitality on his face melts into a scowl the slick-back had been hiding from the start, presuming he’s the leader with how his followers swallow their own fear when his jaw ticks with annoyance.
“Listen little-one. I don’t know who the fuck Humphrey is but I’ve got nothing to do with it, and nobody likes a girl who cries wolf, do they? I’m only after that ruby ring on your finger. It’s beautiful, I’d slot it on a dainty finger too if only it weren’t stolen from its rightful owner.” Your jaw slacks in unison to every drip of venom to his words of defamation. Once again, you’ve let yourself become the scapegoat for the transgression of others— a ditch for them to dig their offenses into further under a pile of lies so you could keep it. You’re always the culprit without an alibi regardless of the suspect walking past in blind sight with the knife; the easiest to blame; the easiest to get away with pointing fingers at because to the lucky, people born with nothing but the damning of their parents for giving life to them are nothing more than a scrape under the rug.
“That traitor Jaeyun told me nothing would happen—” Swift and calculated you’re met with an audience of artillery: a dagger jabbed under your chin that could skew you if you dared to open your mouth too wide, a gun of some macabre holt to the back of your head loaded for trigger and the one who supposedly swung at you in the first place now with a glock handled with expertise in his hands instead. Their ringleader’s scoff transcends into maniacal laughter comparable to a madman— laughs you’d only hear in exaggerated films that used to be broadcasted on those late nights with Humphrey except this time it doesn’t feel so much like an act.
“W—what’s this all about?” You scatter your brain for words hissed through gritted teeth in case the dagger really would pierce through.
“You’ve made this a quicker process for us than we thought.” The boisterous laughter of the man with smudged eyeliner shakes you to the core with a chilling spite that doesn’t leave as it circulates to every nerve to instigate dread within you. “They’re not very good at hiding their insiders, you don’t usually expect such poor work from ParadoXXX— unless this is a setup from those fuckers.”
“Jake wouldn’t send any insider to our side of the city like this, she calls him Jaeyun, she’s more than a simple partner in dirty business.”
Jake…Sim Jaeyun. None of It makes perfect literal sense in your head but you’re not tied or sworn by an oath to Jake or whatever alias he wants to go on his new trek of life, the name dies on the end of your tongue where it doesn’t belong as you try to plead your case through brimming tears at the gun still locked to the back of you.
“W—wait I don’t know where the ring is from! —" You try to remain calm even with all the fingers pointed in your direction however with each probing reload of bullets into the brandished pistol in the corner of this sullen room your strong headed voice falters into half formed sobs.
“Drop the weapons. I hate it when people sob and wail like they’ve got actual shit going on,” the male with split hair from earlier who paid you no mind finally speaks. His voice tuned slightly higher and melodic but tainted with the unwelcoming edge to his tone. “Let her speak and you might get the intel on ParadoXXX you’re after.”
“Hah— as expected of you Taehyun, you’re really the coordinator of our little team here. Checked for explosives? Weapons?” Taehyun, it’s one thing to be complimented by a ringleader of this cohort. It’s another that he’s able to retract all of the weapons targeted against you with a simple sentence. And as he nods to each of the questions the slicked-back male only laughs in horrific pride after snatching the dagger from the calloused hands of his gang member.
“Bravo Taehyun. My aide over there’s given you a chance so spill everything you know about ParadoXXX— and don’t even think about lying your way out of it because if there’s anything I despise the most it would be a lying scoundrel of their kids play gang.” The crazed male licks along the flat surface of the dagger with his tongue. The taste of dried blood fused with metal lingers on his senses as he struts towards you with prideful shoulders and a blank poker face, continuing to clean the dagger before laying it flat against your cheek with a wicked smile. “Go on darling, speak, and make it quick because I’ve got a deal to make.”
“I don’t know anything about this ParadoXXX guy you’re on about. And— and this ring I was gifted by some driver on the shuttlebus to Alton. He didn’t tell me it was stolen I swear I wouldn’t have taken it if it was but he said I could pawn it for a couple of bills! Then I spotted…blood and I ran all the way past a bunch of alleyways and now I’m roped into this whole kidnpping!” Attempting to stifle any more snotty sobs before Taehyun asks for the weapons to be held up to you again you sputter out everything you could. Although your answer doesn’t delight the male at all who flips the dagger in his palm to inflict the sharpest point by your cheek, “And Jake? Or should I say Jaeyun?”
You hate bringing up the past more than anything. It brews the nostalgia of a time you wish you could return to at the sacrifice of your heart, your limbs, whatever they want. It frustrates you that you can’t hold onto the poor rags of your mother’s clothes as she takes you on a penniless sightseeing trip around the slums; pointing to the different monuments of drying racks and squashed strawberries by the local market selling week old fruits. You can’t relive the nights you’d spend with Jaeyun who had to cry for you to accompany him home so that his parents would stop the bickering while you were under their collapsing roof of his home, trying to stop gossip from spreading about their situation.
But Jake. Jake had been perfectly fine to walk his own line with his new friends who find it the greatest joy of life to make the world more cruel and unfair than it already has been towards him. He wouldn’t think twice before pulling that trigger to your head last night if one of these folks were present. Be hostile. Be nasty. So you let his name spill from dry lips even if that meant he’d be in grave danger.
“We were friends in the same neighbourhood when we were younger. You— or someone, sent him and some others and fucking killed Humphrey instead of me and stormed the house, psycho bastards.” The male lets go of the dagger as it rattles on the ground by your feet, you’d opt to stab it into his knee while he’s kneeling down at eye-level but the beady eyes watching in on your exchange of information makes it stupid to do so.
“Good. What I wanted to hear. Soobin you spotted Ni-ki’s motorcycle parked next to a shuttlebus last night didn’t you? You’re lucky that Sunghoon who drove you here didn’t slit your throat on the spot; he’s famous for that around this side of the city, but clumsy in his work.”
Vile. Explicit. Gruesome. It’s like he has nothing better to say other than the grim details of his crimes and his circle and it sickens your stomach like no other that he can laugh off the lives of others without a care in the world.
“Would you be a darling and hand Soobin behind you the ring? He’ll do a nice clean before returning it to me. This baby right there on your finger? 15 million. You can live comfortably with that for the rest of your days, if you had lost it, you wouldn’t be on the receiving end of such a forgiving fate.” Fifteen million. That would’ve been enough to settle the debt you and Humphrey owed 100 fold, the kind of money you can’t fathom in your head when you’ve grown used to dimes and quarters in your palm most of the time rather than a proper bill. And here this heartless man is, losing and wavering it in your face like it’s just part of another collection of his; albeit stolen.
“Oh— and we weren’t the ones to kill your boyfriend or whatever, that would be ParadoXXX’s doing. And you should have common sense to know that no proper leader trusts the basis of a couple words between white lies. So I’ll give you the option here. Eternally will offer you a place to eat and stay in one our let outs given you slept on the streets last night, in exchange that you work for us to gather valuable intel on Jake— or should I say, Lee Heeseung’s little gang to prove you’re not an insider, hm? Otherwise we only have one other option and I can’t promise that you’ll leave in one whole piece.”
Primal fear and confusion flood and suffocate you in a body of water you can’t tread, that narrows in on your airways which hyperventilate in staggered breaths at a bid for survival, leaving you exposed and stripped of your dreamt freedom here in Alton in an instant. You’re frozen still by the weight of his words; a threat dressed as a choice. A choice dressed as freedom that you’re well aware is meddling in the palm of his hands like a puppet on strings as he toys with every frightened expression on your drying tear-stained face with a lift of his lips.
“W—what do I have to do if I work under you?” Even if you try to argue a different option you know you’ll only be met with a muzzle to your mouth here instead of the piercing gazes of the neighbours back home, and you know not to get too greedy. To be fair you couldn’t have gotten as greedy as everyone else when you can’t have anything anyways. There aren’t wallets to nick or tills to rob in a store that accepts mainly handfuls of coins, no boyfriend(s) to hang around with and date when you can never be too sure of their true intentions and no banquet to feast on when the entirety of the slums live on a carton of milk and dry crackers. And even now there’s no way for this man to pity you with a choice of neither when you’re constantly on the losing end of the stick—now to blame for working with a criminal organisation you’ve never heard of.
“Taehyun’s taken a liking to you, so I’ll send you out on a business deal with him. It’s light, all that’s needed to be done is act stupid in front of Heeseung’s circle since they’re obviously interested in you for whatever reason, as long as you’re willing to dirty your hands.”
The ending of his words doesn’t threaten you quite as much. Given that you’ve dirtied your hands in the filthiest water on a face soiled by the genetics of a monster you can’t be rid of, and that’s far worse than digging your own grave with the lives of other plunging men.
Being thrown into a nest with Taehyun is awkward for a start when a couple minutes ago you were pleading for your life confessing everything you know in the span of an hour. And Taehyun’s silent attitude doesn’t help either as he finishes wiping down the ringleader’s gun— who you’ve learnt to be called Yeonjun though he prefers YJ. He had sent the both of you into Taehyun’s workroom within their hideout; humiliating to still have the rope bound to your hands, in precaution that you try anything grizzly with the split hair male you followed behind, but it’s better than having your sore feet strapped to the bone to the legs of such a flimsy chair as well.
“You’re like Humphrey. You don’t like to speak much.”
“I don’t like being compared to your dead boyfriend.” That’s just how blunt Taehyun is with his words. No sugarcoating, no beating around the bush, the last person you’d seek to tell someone a loved one has died— to say the least he doesn’t care for a lot other than himself.
“Humphrey was my guardian. So are you going to inject me with lethal drugs or something now?”
“Enough questions. I don’t work with people who run their mouths faster than they can run.” For a gangster he sure does know a lot more than just the killing, drugs and gambling you’d expect back home, a tattoo gun gripped in his hand as he swabs the patch of skin Yeonjun ordered to be inked with their mark. “It’ll fade once I’m done with my role won’t it?” You’re already associated to a convict, it’s not preferable to be linked to a gang too.
His workroom is nothing short of a rundown shack— less exquisite in taste compared to the gambling headquarters Beomgyu, with the smudged eyeliner, frequents down a couple alleyways. There’s a blend of security in the bulletproof drywalls and the hesitancy of the countless rifles and handguns scattered over the concrete floor in piles alongside Cuban cigarette butts and liquor bottles discarded of lazily. Cheap liquor, that you’d find yourself bringing back to Humphrey on the days he refused to eat for you to stay plump and healthy, even gangsters with wads of stolen cash prefer the taste of a rushed high.
Needles eject dark ink on the skin of your back. Stings like a motherfucker. But any winces you let out might annoy Taehyun into equipping his hands with the boxcutter in his pocket, and you can never really know what gangsters are thinking in the moment but it’s never heartwarming nor pleasant to figure out. But a question plucks at your hair repeatedly, itching to ask him why he’d choose this path when he’d be better off inking beautiful designs onto soft skin for life, a possible crossing over an invisible boundary you shouldn’t step in but you do.
“Why choose to become part of a gang? I don’t understand.” The buzz of the machine halts and you bite on your tongue knowing you’ve done exactly what you knew you shouldn’t have; push Taehyun’s buttons.
“Eternally’s an organisation. A criminal one I’ll admit because it’s not a run-of-the-mill job, but it’s nothing like those ParadoXXX kids who go around spinning knives because they’ve got their affluent fathers to pay the fines and bribe the authorities for them. They think it’s impressive to be involved in this kind of life not knowing the reality of it— outside of these streets they’re nobodies without their guns. It’s only so far that their teenage knuckles can fend off a dozen bullets before their nails are digging into the soil.” Taehyun leans back in his seat; a cigarette pulled from a fresh white pack which slots between his lips like a puzzle, letting his own unclear thoughts fade into the smoke that blows a diaphanous grey under the dim overhead bulb’s lighting.
“Eternally’s not like that. None of us chose to follow down this obvious dead-end but where else can we run to when the world’s shut all it’s doors on us, except the gateway to hell at the cost of nothing compared to the gateway of Heaven that costs everything we can’t afford. It’s easier to sin than pretend to be some sort of Solomon and I’m fine with that. You can curse me in front of my face all you want—I can’t deny that we’re terrible people. We still kill, we steal, we do all kinds of messed up shit that would land us in the chair. What’s there to be proud of?” The drag of his cigarette is longer this time, a large exhale falling from his lips as he rests his eyes, blonde ends falling into place to cover them with the lean back of his head.
“I ran away from home at 17. Stupid, but this is the most freedom I’ve had since. My old man’s a politician, started sleazing around with his secretary and was caught. Got a divorce not long after and I was already on my one-way ticket to live with my mother. She was never in the right mental state to try be a mother to me despite what she pleaded in the eyes of the law; I’d often find her whispering that man’s name for nights on end, sleepwalking, begging, crying. It was when she held the knife she used for that night’s stew right at me during one of her manic episodes that I decided to leave. Mistook me for all I was known for; my father who I take after and her expression from that night still haunts me. I can smoke and take these drugs all I want to lose my train of thought but I can’t forget those eyes because they see something in me that I can’t get rid of. They see some sort of beast that I have to force myself to live with for the rest of my descending life. I met Yeonjun after a quick taxi ride with a stolen credit card. He was born in these very slums and never learnt proper manners, his home was often the target of thugs and so he had to learn how to defend himself early on and eventually the rest were all taken in by him at their lowest to form Eternally. He’s morally not a good man by any means but I owe my life to him in these gritty edges of Alton. And now I’ve let my mouth go on a tangent. The etch is basically done just let it set. There’s also blood stuck to your hair, Soobin’s not the best at patching up.”
The shut of the male’s eyes as he basks in the heat of the smoke is your sign to leave the room even if you wanted to say a couple more words; offer him a part of you to soothe the hurt you both share. Though at the end of the day he’s still a criminal. One that you shouldn’t get deeply involved with at that, so you stand at the exit leading back to the even longer concrete tunnel to say something at least.
“Sorry if I pushed you too far.”
You’ve grown to learn a lot of things as Eternally’s decoy. That really this isn’t an escape from home but merely just a substitute for it. Children in the alleyways scatter and play games of hide-and-seek from dusk to dawn when their melancholy mothers can’t find the heart in them to listen to the nagging and pleads of their starved children. In fact it’s probably common for them to wish that their children don’t return from their ventures out in the alleyways—one less stomach to feed for these unaspiring mothers that spend their days glancing outside the windows of brick walls and missing posters while they daydream of marigold fields and a diamond wedding ring. You learnt that from Beomgyu, one of the unlucky ducklings to have been on the receiving end of his mother’s flower picking.
Earth is bigoted in the favour of those who’ve never had to lay a finger to live somewhat comfortably. The group that the unfortunate envy the most aren’t the elite who interchange between million dollar cars every weekend but the people who live under the safe blanket of normality; a dream that’s not far to achieve in comparison to the conglomerates but an impossible feat for the slums where you can barely make a name for yourself outside of crime.
The same news channels play on the same outdated television screens here. Reporters and politicians cry and lament at the cruelty of deprivation in their skyrise buildings and penthouses while their carefully planned speeches reach the hearts of the already wealthy than touch your reality.
You may pour all your blood, sweat and tears kissing the feet of statues knelt in prayer to ask for a chance and you’ll be offered the grace of a couple blessings in your name for good health and a prospering life that will never be fulfilled, but you’ll never be exempt of the blasphemous features on your face derived from your father, no matter how much you pray.
The next time you’re to see Taehyun is late this afternoon when he’s come back from his robbery stunt on the high street with Kai, neither of you exchanged words since the conversation but your mind reflects back on it more than you’d like. Both of you are in this turmoil of a flaw neither of you can fix, a product of faces you don’t want to recognise; and here you are following in the footsteps of a criminal, guess bad seeds will always be rotten to the core.
“Adjusting well down here? It’s not the best but it’s better than anything.” Soobin chews on the loaf of bread he stole from a small beginner’s bakery, the food pushed to the side of his cheek blowing in disproportion to the other while he rolls a blunt stuffed with clusters of flaked green with careful hands. “It’s no different to where I came from. Slums can’t really get any more different when they’re all lacking in the same things.”
“I didn’t understand a single word of what you just said but I’m guessing it’s smart, you and Taehyun would work well together.” Beomgyu outstretches his legs in the discomfort of his seat, pulling out a deck of cards with a whistling tune from his pursed lips that he slams onto the table. “You know how to gamble little-one?”
“She’s not gambling with any cheaters like you.” That melodic voice you recognise— Taehyun’s back earlier than expected, a backpack of stolen goods filled with luxurious pastries you’d never dream of touching your tongue wrapped in pink ribbon packaging as he dumped them upside down onto the small table. “Awh— what a bore. I was looking forward to winning!” Beomgyu snags a couple of pastries for himself…more than a couple, gathered in his arms as he wipes the drool leaking from lips.
It's hard to believe that any of them are capable of stabbing a foe in cold blood— excluding Kai. Despite the sweet smile that plays on his lips you caught him dragging a corpse beaten beyond recognition inside one of the many storage rooms you’re forbidden from entering. He churns your stomach grotesquely with his wolf in sheep’s clothing act, and you find it more difficult than anything to return a smile when all your head can trace back to is the unreadable sunken look in his authentic eyes.
“You shouldn’t be smoking a blunt in front of her Soobin. She’s not one of us, don’t let her pick up on bad habits.” A thoughtful gesture it is however, you’re unhappy that you’re being outcasted in this little clique of theirs. You truly didn’t belong anywhere, even with the bloodiest of criminals and that sticks in the back of your head without you even noticing. Better than them or unworthy of their brotherhood your 3 days of staying at Eternally’s base hasn’t earnt you, you’re not quite sure.
“You’re coming with me today. Tabs on Sunghoon says he’ll be by the brothels looking for you— there’s a reason he’s dropped you off on this side of town and you’re bound to see a lot of shit you won’t like. But you have to suck it up or else I’ll have to finish you off without their help.” Trailing behind him with a bowed head you spot the splatter of crimson staining the back of his shoe, fresh blood. He’s been up to more than just stealing. But it’s not unusual for a criminal to lie and you’re in no position to pry him further about it as you tread down dingy hallways into Yeonjun’s private lounge.
Inside is lavish; velvet fitted couches, a small island table stacked with barely sipped champagne and tiled walls framed with expensive art that doesn’t suit to your taste but flattering amongst the gold detailing of the ceiling. The male sinks back into his seat with a woman climbed over his lap sucking maroon love bites down his neck as he grips the plush of her ass through satin fabric, a sight that flusters you to witness but you can’t take your eyes off of them.
“Be a darling and wait outside for me,” Picking up her heels the woman leaves in a hurry so her face can’t be seen by the two of you waiting at the door out of shame. Two fingers beckon you forward and suddenly the weight of your feet start to drag from their spot by the door, sweat pearling at your forehead under Yeonjun’s gaze you can’t familiarise yourself with. “Homer’s. ParadoXXX are headed to that brothel most likely in search of you— they don’t think very highly of us do they? Thinking we sold you off to a lair like that…if we really did want to send you off elsewhere I’d at least put you in better hands at Bridleway.” He stumps the butt of his cigarette onto an ashy tray filled with mounts of nicotine-depleted cigars— ashes flitting into the air as he does so.
“Open fire tonight?” The terminologies exchanged between the two men don’t click in your head yet you can make out the severity of what they’re planning from their sinister tones and how Taehyun’s eyes slender with deep thought. “Open fire outside of the brothel, I don’t want to visit on Sunday with bullet holes in the window. Though If you see Heeseung don’t hesitate to shoot that fucker in the head,” Yeonjun inspects the glass of champagne before drinking it in heavy gulps with a red starting to blush over his face, “I expect nothing less of you brother, so little one, it’s on you to bring back a dead man for me.” His chuckles spill in your ears like gasoline and burns with a sinister flame as he orders the two of you out, waving for you to shower before you appear so you can play the role of an actual hostess there and not the woman who cleans the fluids of the aftermath.
You strip yourself of your borrowed clothes— Humphrey’s old zip up in the wash while your threaded shorts were discarded in a disorderly matter by the community-built landfill down one of those sketchy alleyways. Warm water tickles the goosebumps leftover from Yeonjun’s peptalk and cascades down the dip of your chest in one smooth stream; a long time since you last had a warm shower after a good few years of winter lakes poured over your body. Lost in the feeling of the comforting droplets of water you imagine it to be similar to the warmth of an arm you’re yet to experience since your life turned for the worse at 16, humming loudly in your head to the point you don’t notice the click of the door as it creaks open.
“Nice humming little-one but we don’t have time for rubber duck baths—”
“Oh my god !! Get out!” Forgetting the dangerous capabilities of the criminal standing by the door you launch a vanilla-scented bar of soap at Taehyun who catches it amusedly with his unoccupied hand. “I’ve seen it all at the brothel we’re headed to so don’t bother feeling shameful when you’re being housed by criminals this very moment.” Despite his words your hands refuse to leave your chest and between your thighs— at the end of the day he’s still a man and Humphrey’s taught you to be careful around guys like Taehyun, even if they offer you the sweetest apple their forbidden souls can bear.
“The clothes of the prostitute from earlier. Consider it somewhat of a gift from Yeonjun. Said she wouldn’t need them by the end anyway.” Taehyun drawls out the repetition of his leader’s words with a drawl, his lips curved into a smirk as he drinks in your embarrassed state. And as unexpectedly as he walked in, he walked right back out to let you finish your shower cut short, disappearing into the hallways you’ll struggle to find him in later.
Meanwhile on the highway of the city’s fastest roads, a male with cherry red hair glowers at the mirror of his driver’s car, knuckles decorated with brass clenched tight into an agitated fist that slams at the window in heated fury that shakes the vehicle vigorously.
“Fucking idiot Sunghoon. What does he think he’s doing sending off that man’s daughter into that manwhore’s hands?” His voice is crisp and an octave lower that activates a trembling mechanism in his driver’s hands that start to swivel at the steering wheel.
“Hoon reassured us that Yeonjun wouldn’t be interested in her, he handed her the ring in hopes that she’d find the brothel to exchange it for some food and drink. Knocked out cold by the littlest on of their crew apparently but she was left on those very streets in front of the brothel just like that.” The blonde coughs in hopes that he’d relieve his boss’ lament, turning on the air conditioning a little stronger to cool off the hot-headedness radiating form the backseat.
“They better have left her at that damn brothel. I want to be the one she pleads for mercy at the hands of my gun, not his weaklings.”
“Say she isn’t at the brothel, you have a reason to pick a bone with Choi for toying with what’s yours Heeseung, it’s not a bad idea.”
“Not a bad idea at all, Jake.”
At the latest hours of night passing into morning, the Brothel is bustling in splendid business as men unzip the fly of their naturally ripped jeans upon entering. Homer’s was discreetly hidden behind a rusted door down one of the various alleys you’d find yourself hopelessly lost in, swamped in poorly done graffiti by the hands of teens who’ve never had the privilege to learn and dumpsters that overrode the streets with decay and rot.
The city held its breath as the two of you entered separately to fulfil your designated roles— you’re supposed to encounter a handful of ParadoXXX tonight in your sleek silk dress snatched off the prostitute and the deadly pigment of danger on your lips; all you need to do is lure them into the booth Taehyun’s in, and he’ll handle it from there.
Walking down the stairwell that led to the brothel acted as a final warning that you wouldn’t return back to those streets anytime soon. Down in this choking mix of cigarette smoke where morality hung stale in the air it’s far more shielded with the gang-prevalent back streets than the leering of the rapacious men slouched in velvet-padded booths.
Obscenities are shared in a network branched with bullet-stocked briefcases, dirtied with smuggled stacks of cash that’ll diminish throughout the night, and laced with fine white powder divided into lines. Red lanterns hung low from the ceiling; heavily burdened by the weight of wrongdoing and fractured conscience of those who dared to quench the devil’s thirst, pools of seductive lighting casting over the silhouettes of bare bodies.
Stationed by the bar is a male tailored in a black suit stained with whiskey. Sweat lined under his collar and eyeing your movement towards him with hostility. The last thing you’d want in this faultless plan is for the bartender to run his mouth like the cheap alcohol he pours in front of bottles of luxury imported wine robbed from the port— he doesn’t recognise you as one of the prostitutes slack with dull eyes, so you slide across the counter an envelope emblemed with the three rotating crosses matching the temporary tattoo on your back. A wordless conversation but it seems as though he’s understood your request— the emblem is enough to keep him quiet for the rest of his days if he values his own life, and hence he permits you to linger around the bar, swirling a quarter-drunk shot in your hand.
Taehyun is situated in the upper level of the collapsing brothel— a balcony view of where you were stood as a woman stripped down to her only pair of inexpensive lingerie beside him; running her sharp nails along his tatted-arm of words she never learnt to read. Clutched in his hand is the pistol he refined for hours in the workroom. Too small for a scope but his hands were sculpted to fit seamlessly to the trigger and grip with professionalism, and when he’s focused he’ll never miss a shot. In ten minutes Beomgyu and Kai are expected to be armed with their own dreadful guns and a unit of knives at the back entrance with a few underlings; you’ll lure ParadoXXX outside and he’ll find himself busy on gathering the intel from the bartender within that slot. By the end of tonight he’ll leave with one of their heads laid in a gift basket of the prettiest flowers for Lee Heeseung the next day— or a gift basket of Lee Heeseung’s head to his rodents, an option Taehyun smiles widely at.
“New face around town? Didn’t know your boss was hiring, Doyoung.” You lock eyes with softly curved ones, brown and glinting but even the illiterate can read between the lines of his intentions; the true epitome of looks can kill locked into the strands of his cherry-red tuft complementary to the wine in his hand— and the speck of blood you can’t draw your eyes from on his cheekbone that he rids of in one smooth swipe and a full teeth smile. Jaeyun shifts his weight onto one leg behind the man, diverting his attention onto the brothel’s interior as if it’s his first time in dirty business like this— nice act Sim.
Expensive pinewood cologne wafts from the jacket hung on his shoulders and the golden tooth snug where his canine should be gleams with radiance. Savagery exudes from every feature of his— not the murderous intent you felt when you were held at gun and knifepoint by Eternally, no, this was by far more extreme. This cherry-red male’s ideal torment is far worse than a slash and run, like he’s trying to reap your very soul with his eyes alone. This is it, a member of PardoXXX far different to the shuttlebus driver and Jaeyun and suddenly you’re not quite sure if you can fulfil your role without stammering the script under his gaze.
“We found her outside the brothel with a gash to her head. Doesn’t remember a thing she says, not even her name.” Taehyun and you hold your breath watching the bartender follow the script of the envelope but standing face to face with this man is no different to facing your conscience— the kind of well-crafted smile that renders it difficult to lie because he knows the truth already. The shorter male widens his eyes in shock to the sudden turn of events as he extends a hand to grip around the cherry-red’s in hopes to please the irk on his face. Sim Jaeyun’s betrayed you once more with void and shallow promises one after the other. The two of you may be warm in this body-heat insulated room. Yet neither of you can help the cold breeze from young sixteen, nor the solemn park’s mulch that blows over the last remaining building blocks of trust you wish you could confide in the vessel of the peace-mongering boy years ago.
“You were given a ruby ring by one of my drivers, it’s mine, left by mistake so if you could be ever so lovel—“
“Ruby ring? If I had one I’d be far from this side of Alton, you’re funny Mister.” It’s hard to play dumb when you’re trying to maintain a level of eye contact not too observant but not too avoiding either in front of a man like this, and it doesn’t help that you’re repeatedly taking sips from your shot to calm down your nerves. Unamused laughs fall dead on his lips that fail to ease your panic; the opposite effect taking place when he turns the wine glass on its side, letting viscous red wine soak the floor he walks on with bloodlust as he leans to whisper into your ear.
Taehyun’s not supposed to open fire at Homer’s tonight, he’s not supposed to have the gun fully loaded and aimed from up at the balcony like it is at the moment when you’re merely conversing with Lee Heeseung as you were instructed. The prostitute kisses down the bulging vein in his neck down to the pecs of his torso similar to the seduction of a siren— a thumb pressed to the tent of his pants that he pushes away when he notices the gangster getting too fucking close to what’s not even his. He curses under his breath with sourness that can’t be called jealousy but can’t go unlabelled with how his arm twitches to hold back from shooting the prying male in the head, splattering his fucked mind in a crime scene of cherry-red just how he likes it.
“Does Lee Min-hyung ring a bell?”
Blood runs cold in your sweaty palms, eyes tense with shock and your voice lost in the unearthing of memories you ought to conceal; memories that you desire to forget over cherishing them.
Lee Min-hyung. Notorious in the underground world of loans sharks— never behind on repayments mainly because he’d put himself through any dirty means to get to it and that’s what would’ve led him to his ill-fated demise by the hands of your guilt-ridden rather. You can cleanse yourself of your name, replace the rags you wear with the softest silk and powder your face smooth of blemishes and like a magnet you’ll be tied back to your father, even in Alton miles from home. The deadliest drug of thoughts you could lose yourself in— and all of it’s resurfacing in a room where you stand in the spotlight. Or more so the centre stage of a criminal court in a room of predatory eyes and it wretches your stomach like the reopening of a stitched wound. Because this man knows the faulty genes encoded into your DNA and the impurity of man’s tendency to sin that flows a whole ocean stronger in your blood than anyone else, and for a second you stop breathing.
“Fucking wench, I knew it.”
Bang! —
Two to three gunshots fire at a small chandelier that splinters into the crystalline tears of the woeful prostitutes marked with disdainful hands and you don’t have to look up at the balcony to see the gun in Taehyun’s hands to know the bullets were his doing. There’s only so much will you have to survive and you won’t let yourself stand idle for Heeseung to have the pleasure of your body limp in his arms while he’s concerned with the sudden gunfire, and the bullet-glass mess dented into the floor.
“Heeseung she’s ran off—”
“Eternally, fuck! Only that runaway bastard has designed bullets.”
The heel under the pressure of your foot snaps as you make a run for the back door, your ankle twists and contorts at each limped step but you need to get as far as where Beomgyu and Kai are, by the alleyway that leads back to the base but your head is muddled, overflooded with the replay of his looming words like he’s subject you to a curse that can’t be lifted with the remorse you offer in place of your father. Left onto the road where Marley’s butchers is, take a right onto the alleyway with posters— or was it left...Taehyun said something about posters and you saw them back there— God, you can’t remember the escape route you spent a whole afternoon revising like you’ve known these streets your whole life. The rampage of footsteps behind you are ear-splitting war cries and you can’t help the tears that spill knowing you’re finished without a route to take and armed with nothing but fists. And if a gang like ParadoXXX are nobodies with their fists then you must have been taken out of the survey in the events that you’ve been mangled in the same nature Humphrey was.
And fuck, you just fall to your knees in pitiful sobs when you run into a large torso knowing this is it. You’ve fallen victim to a man who’s set a bounty for your head on a pike in vengeance for someone you’ve never met— an undistinguishable fire that’s being taken out on you instead of the man in the cell responsible for your miserable living.
“Please— sniff, I have nothing to do with Lee Min-Hyung—”
“You’re getting snot everywhere, take off your heels they’re catching up any second now.” Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid, always getting caught in a mistake when you’re in his presence. You were never capable of delving yourself into this kind of work, not like Taehyun who knows his ins-and-outs of this flipside city that you’re just hostage in as he swerves you through alleyway to alleyway in this maze of brick and sleeping beggars. But even the most familiar paths can close in on you at any given moment, and it’s a real pain to see that the black Porshe custom-plated J4KE PDX stands blocked at the road ahead.
“Jungwon! They went that way— Heeseung’s headed back already.”
Blonde-dyed ends appear grey in the pollution of the city when Taehyun holds your head to his chest with his tatted-arms; scarred and defined with muscle that flexes as he rolls you behind the cover of the wall leading to a dead-end.
“Taehyun— hic— sorry I swear—”
“Shh. Stop crying. It disgusts me.” Disgusts him because the prominent voice out of the millions inside of his head wants to beg for the tears balancing in your watery eyes to fall and stain your cheeks their natural hue through the sticky-mess of your concealer. He relishes in it, how your lips quiver and hyperventilate with emotion that makes his erection twitch with gross excitement; so vulnerable, needy. You just need someone to hold and cry on— and he can play the nice guy if it meant he could get a taste of the purest sin he can get his hands on. If it meant that he could tarnish you with grime by having you tonight, a disgusting fantasy in his twisted head that he can’t blame his psychotic mother for nor the criminal life he leads but his own skin, blood and flesh that fucking loves it like some sick creep when you cry for his help at the thump of footsteps getting closer.
“Get on your knees and suck me off. Trust me on this one, baby.” You think he’s gone insane, lost his mind even— that this is the only thing he can think of in the moment when men armed with all sorts of illegal weapons are inching closer for your throats with no intention of holding back. Yet your brain and heart clash in opposition, you know it’s no good where this is headed. You’ve seen it before on the late night channels on TV on the chance that Humphrey would be asleep; sex, you never dared to cross that line— not with the plugs in the street nor the thieves that would get the whole neighbourhood pregnant. But you actually fucking considered it for Taehyun who’s not any different to the grubby men in the brothel and their vile requests, on top of the numerous lives lost to the very hands that hold you, that in your brain and soul you should despise because he’s killed more than your father ever has dirtied his hands with, but you can’t despise the attraction you have of breaking the rules just this time. Just testing the waters, there’s no one who’ll look at you any nastier for wanting a piece, after all you’re both two squashed peas in a pod; runaways, a stone-hearted killer and the daughter of one, like it’s fate that the only choices life had delegated to you were each other.
Don’t know whether it was the lust in the way he peered down at your tear-blurred eyes to have you following your heart as your knees make contact with the ridges of beer-stained pavement. Or if it was the nickname that eased the nausea in your stomach for even a moment, the first time he’s addressed you anything close to warm; and you hold on to it as you unzip the fly of his black jeans, even if it was empty of sincerity.
“Jake go down that alleyway I’ll search this one!” Even if you’ve watched a couple scenes on the TV that’s nowhere near enough to prepare you for the reality of it. He’s thick, a bit too thick for what you thought was ‘big’ on screen, and he hisses when you feel around the weight of it in your hands—contemplating whether you really could bring yourself to slot him on your tongue when he’s already starting to drag on your hand.
Maybe you should contemplate this later because Taehyun doesn’t want to rush you into it, that’s not his style of fucking, but Yang Jungwon’s getting awfully close. And if he wants this little stunt to work then he can’t have you staring up at him dumbly with his dick helpless in your hands, even if he likes the look of your eyes brimming with more tears worrying about how to even suck him off to begin with. So he spreads apart your amateur lips, preparing to graze your teeth on the sensitive skin, with a gun-powdered thumb. Instant and unprepared, Taehyun bucks his hips into the warm cave of your mouth. Lewd gagging of your virgin throat more raw than any of the artificial moans brewed by the women down in the brothel as he holds the back of your head to guide you along the stretch whilst also putting on a show.
A show that needs to be messy, filthy and looks nothing more or less of a heated quickie as he bunches your hair in his hands— fervorous as globs of spit leaked into the mix of fluids on damp ground beneath you. A sight to behold especially for the blonde who runs towards the dead end you’re gagged to Taehyun’s balls in.
“Found th— agh! Get a room, shit!” He doesn’t even spare you a second glance with covered eyes, running back down the alleyway he entered to find his partner in crime— a risky idea with no guarantee, but the soft breaths and murmurs of a calm Taehyun rocks your head away from the thought of it all. Your nose is still touching his pelvis minutes after the gang member leaves, and Taehyun knows it’s wrong. There’s no reason for him to still be caressing your tear-stained cheeks as he pushes his dick further down your coarse throat; it’s an act that’s supposed to break out of character the moment the audience leaves, and yet he holds you in position for a second longer than he should.
You cough and choke around the intake of air once he pulls out hastily; harsh and distasteful on the sore of your tongue. Gripped hands loosen the hold on your hair with the regret of unholiness engrained into the fingerprints that wipe needless tears away. The criminal doesn’t say a word, basking in mute you couldn’t fathom as he averts his eyes to the city skylines barely visible above the moss-covered walls of these slums; in thought of something you can’t read by the monotony of his face and can’t see on the flick of his wrist that prepares to lift up the bunched jeans back up his hips.
“Taehyun you…you haven’t finished.” It’s indescribable why you seek his touch again, a poor reason to feel the taste of Asmodeus on your tongue, have his amoral hands fondle your blemished skin with even more blemished hands bruised and battered with the soul-stirring cries of his victims on the other side of the muzzle. Exactly who you’d hate to be, Kang Taehyun is. Nevertheless you want to melt into his inked skin and the heat of his touch not of love but desire. You want the sting of your hair interweaved between his fingers that tug at your scalp with a pain that doesn’t burn like the irrational rancour of the neighbours— it’s sweet, sensual and itches the roof of your mouth to utter soft moans.
“Never heard of someone who wants to make a criminal cum. Are you sure that’s what you want,baby?” There it is again. Purrs from non-sacred lips that stir the most immoral of emotions in your heart that races with a steeply increasing pulse. There’s no reason nor joy that he gains from using those loving nicknames that reign foreign in his profanity-filled mouth— he doesn’t have to extend the act when ParadoXXX are miles away in the opposite direction of you, but he does.
So you open your mouth wider than any of the orifices in your stake impaled wounds of prejudice, for him to fill. For him to neutralise the toxin of the redhead’s words, the truth you’ve been concealing, with his lies embedded into unaffectionate coitus you’ll suffice with pretending is real for now.
Guttural moans coveted deep under his remaining conscience pour in a low voice as he sheathes himself into the warmth of your amateur mouth that only knows to suck with no real technique. Taehyun wants to mould your virgin throat to fit the fruit he grows from his bad seed, he wants to be the one to teach you the forbidden sermons of the devil’s book you were never meant to encounter. You don’t belong in their lair of outcasts— but he’ll make it happen the moment he marks you fucking his.
“Don’t use your teeth, relax your throat if you want to suck me off properly.” You trace the veins of his shaft with an inexperienced tongue and pursed lips; painfully slow with adjusting to his girth that makes it impossible to not have your teeth graze him in the slightest. And the criminal’s not as patient of a man as he portrays especially when your eyebrows are knit with concentration trying to redeem yourself with his advice because it doesn’t take him much to hold your jaw still with vice-like fingers. He ruts into your mouth like he has places to be instead of wasting his time on these lone streets with you, hot and feverish as you yelp at the sudden change in rhythmic slapping of his pelvis to your drool painted chin. It’s like he’s purposely rushing to chase an orgasm with how rough each spit slathered thrust is to your aching jaw, starting to hurt from the strain and the soft sponge at the back of your throat he continues to ram into relentlessly. Sharp spikes of pleasure-filled pain mix the logic of your brain as rinsed tears start to form again— tears that could arise a bucketload of his cum if he dwelled on it too much because he loves the nastiness of it and the dubious essence of pain and lustful crying.
Easily, he could find himself in any impoverished family’s home with a rifle as he drinks in the saline of their crocodile tears and the scanty bills in their hands, he can go further than making them cry and it still wouldn’t satiate the compulsion to be dominant and righteous in a world that’s oppressed him long before the fighting and the drugs. Not like your tears do.
He'll bathe you in the very felonies he drowns in. He’ll teach you the ropes of how to smoke, drink, how to wield a gun. He’ll teach you how to kiss, how to ride him, and at the end of it all when he’s tired, he’ll teach you how to leave— leave like his mother had because you should have known from the start that this was bound to happen, and you should have stopped him before it got too far.
Because fuck morals when they’ve been broken to persecute you, and fuck morals when they never existed to Taehyun’s father in the first place.
Your undignified moans pulse around his tip, hands clawing with desperate pleas at the belt of his jeans, and god when you look at him so powerlessly as he shuts your wails with the stuffing of his cock, he pulls you off of him with a pop! — Letting his seed coat the rich satin dress you bore and now have to explain the stain for later.
What follows next is a shared mutual quiet that lingers thick in the smell of sex. An unspoken agreement that this wasn’t supposed to happen— a foolish mistake neither of you should repeat but both crave for. His jeans are pulled up as fast as he wants to leave from dealing with the shame that overcomes you in rippling waves, phone in hand and dialling a number that picks up in a state of bickering and anger.
“Beomgyu and Kai are waiting for us at Ashbrook. And don’t mention this to any of them.”
Humphrey had taught you this lesson that always failed to stick in your head. Pushovers are the true lowest of the low in society, you won’t get any higher if you let everyone else step all over you. And it still doesn’t stick. Because you don’t want to ask for Taehyun to tend to the heat in your stomach and touch you like how the actors do on those highly exaggerated shows on TV. You want him to initiate it, but with every shallow action and look you’re more than aware you’re in no position to ask him for it— criminals wouldn’t risk the sentence if they really had cared for anyone but themselves.
“Fuck you Kang Taehyun. I was supposed to be back by twelve after dealing with Sunghoon.” Beomgyu cusses from the driver’s seat with invisible steam huffing out of his nose and both hands gripped so tight on the steering wheel they leave imprints on the leather; the angriest you’ve seen him so far but do bare in mind that he can’t be happy go lucky all the time with both body counts under his belt. “Heeseung sped off onto the highway before we got here. What a mission this has been for the dream-team.” Sarcasm that you don’t want to retort to stifles heavily in the car and Taehyun’s not one to argue either, instead leaning over to the centre console to dig for a small bag of rolled-up blunts to smoke.
“No hotboxing in my car. This baby’s brand new.” Beomgyu attempts to swat a hand behind his seat at Taehyun but gives up with a grunt the moment he hears the lighter click in the backseat. Kai only laughs heartily riding shotgun, a black bag he unzips filled with wads of cash you couldn’t count but if you did you’d estimate it to be in the hundred thousands. “I had quite the successful heist today— ay? ParadoXXX’s treasurer isn’t the brightest at keeping their funds safe. 700k upfront. That’ll save you from YJ’s earful. Give me a hit hyung.”
You watch with intrigue as Taehyun hums in approval upon hearing the youngest’s feat, propping up from his seat and passing the blunt in a shaking motion to urge Kai to take it from his hands. “So, what went wrong in the first place?”
Nobody outwardly points fingers or glances at you but you can tell they’re not suspecting Taehyun who’s never emerged on the losing end of raids before. Excuses don’t come to you easily and words strangle in your throat in the exact manner Heeseung, as you’ve learnt it, had when he unearthed the roots you’ve been burying since the police knocked on your door.
“That’s a conversation for later. Do you wanna try little-one?” Like some childish high school crush you tense at how observant Taehyun is towards the uncomfortable twiddling of your fingers trying to find a believable lie. The blunt is passed back to the split-blonde beside you from Kai, a raised eyebrow and a slightly outstretched hand to pass you the small roll. Bad for your health. Bad for you. But you watch the way Taehyun exhales the smoke smoothly, how his eyes close shut in relaxation as if he’s been transported to another world. And you want that high that’ll distract you from the chaos of this life you wish you could start anew, with a strong headed mind which’ll beg for you to not make this exact decision months down the line when the drugs aren’t just an escape but another hole you’ve dug yourself into.
Novice lips wrap around the blunt that Taehyun holds onto. Not quite sure what you’re supposed to do except copy how he had inhaled effortlessly, though you’re not close to perfecting it at all with inexperience coughing out of your lungs that shakes the car with laughter. “Come on hyung, teach her properly if you’re gonna hotbox.”
“I was planning to but someone’s eager to become every parent’s nightmare tonight,” The embarrassment that crashes down on you is comical; you got too ahead of yourself again. The male sat next to you turns your head with the finger pad of his index, staring directly into your expectant eyes that scan each movement of his hand as it positions the blunt to your lips. “Slow inhales, you’ll choke if you rush into it like just now for your first time.” Taehyun guides you through it, smoking weed. It’s a short-lasting euphoria that runs through your veins. Lightweight limbs that don’t carry the heap of your father’s responsibility, a head that becomes clouded with the comforting gale slipping through the window instead of the memories of Humphrey; losing yourself slowly in the backseat until you truthfully couldn’t remember your name nor the two men in front of you, tunnel vision through slitted eyes focused solely on the lips of Kang Taehyun.
He's a temporary escape stronger than drugs.
Gives you a high that weed can’t reenact when you’re with him.
Shots of cigar-dipped whiskey spills with impatience on to floors withholding the mass of fury circulating the room. Classical music belonging in the landscape of farmhouse manors screeches on the vinyl player; distorting the mood of Yeonjun’s lounge into an extra burden of regret that should’ve never been lifted from yours onto Taehyun’s shoulders. Broken glass as rigid and sharp as his stare dispersed onto the carpet and pierced through bare feet that Taehyun trudged with towards the preceding storm.
Navy tweed suits couldn’t disguise the coiled violence beneath. His head balanced on a glass cut-finger that trickles with runny red— a leg kicked up over the other bouncing with restlessness. Yeonjun’s not the kind to dwell on limited relationships that will only be dead weight to what he wants to achieve, and if he wants a bursary to pay for the younger’s poor hindsight then Taehyun shouldn’t be appalled walking out of the lounge with a single eye.
“What did I say about gunfire inside of Homer’s?” Words caught in Taehyun’s throat refused to speak, hammered in by the faucet of vitriol soiling his leader’s lips, “Damnit! — You’ve never been so reckless before, never strayed from my instructions once. I told you no gunfire unless it’s Lee Heeseung and you fucking shot the chandelier— and don’t play stupid with me Kang Taehyun you don’t just call that poor aim, not when it comes to you.”
“If I fired at him she could’ve been shot. That bastard’s snea—”
“Shoot her then. What does she matter to us? You never thought twice about strangling your old man. You didn’t flinch when you first shot a gun, but you wanna draw the line with some bitch you met 3 days ago? Since when did you get so weak Kang Taehyun— I picked your ass off those streets for bloodshed, not for you to play Angel Simon.” A cigarette is lit alight with wrath alone, the smoke a ghastly blanket to cover the younger’s winces, its ashes fall crisp with dead expectations. “I misunderstood, thought she was important to the ParadoXXX raid.”
“Quit the bullshit Taehyun. We’re goddamn outcasts there’s no one important to us nor the raid but ourselves. You think if she wasn’t held at gunpoint she’d be kissing your ass like she gives a shit where you end up? Would she hesitate to pfew! you in the head?” Yeonjun mimics the thought with a cigarette-embedded finger gun blown up into hysterical laughter. “Lee Heeseung. He’s related to that girl, someway somehow. And I’m not fucking having this alliance like yesterday— like you both want to fuck her, pussying your guns like that. Did the brothels get too boring? Do you want to start fucking holes Jongseong’s already found himself in? Don’t make me laugh Taehyun.”
Does he care what happens to you? Not at all. But yeah, he does want to fuck you. He wants to see the tears that make his dick throb with vulgarity Yeonjun couldn’t compare to with his roster of prostitutes. Doesn’t matter if ParadoXXX got to you first, he’s not picky, he was never one to have the privilege to deny leftovers to begin with.
“Then laugh.” Black slicked hair loses poise and falls loose in strands, hysterical laughter dying down in shock on an open canvas of the male’s face. Taehyun’s never opposed his words directly because he knows the lengths Yeonjun will go— he’s seen it happen to sweet sweet Kai over the years; the burns. Any appetite for the nicotine-rush is lost within seconds, finding the end of its lifetime on the hardened skin of Taehyun’s bicep, the flame put out within seconds but the burn of it everlasting. Blistered, burning and sore seemed like an overstatement for his reaction; drawing blood from his lips and a restrained throat that didn’t peep a single grunt. He doesn’t want to look weak in front of Yeonjun but he’ll settle with baring the burn before his mind turns to the pistol in his back pocket.
“It’s good to see you still know to look strong. But I don’t want to hear of this from you again— Kai’s learning quite fast isn’t he? 700k in cash and everyone used to look down on him, it looks like he’ll be the one to look down on you soon, hah. You know I love you like a brother Taehyun, but we don’t share a single drop of sinister blood. And we were taught before we could even speak that blood runs thicker than water.”
The walk to Soobin’s patch-up room is longer than Taehyun remembers. He hisses at the after shock of the burn’s flare, only the circumference of a cigarette butt yet he finds it more difficult to supress his grunts compared to any other bullet or stab wound covered in inked designs. Because this time it’s Yeonjun’s doing, and ironically enough he was the one to save him, when all Taehyun’s head can reel of right now is the gun in the back pocket and the chains of what-ifs?
Unexpected, you were. Dangling your feet off the edge of the nursing bed in place of Soobin who’s nowhere to be found among the shelves of bottled pills and painkillers mixed with stocks of ecstasy. Just you as the focus in a landscape of dull white and sheets stained with blood that can’t be washed, quiet and behaved as you stare at him walk through the door with wide eyes.
“Soobin?”
“He’s out to deal some stuff in another city. I was told to wait here until he got back.” It’s cute how oblivious you are to it all. You’d be here all night for him to put a flimsy plaster on if you really waited for him to return on the days he’s out visiting his girlfriend in prison. “Do you know how to use a med-kit?”
He likes the way your eyes widen with worry over something you’ll never understand, dressed in a pure white gown that clings and sits tightly to form another layer of skin. You don’t know how to treat a burn, if you did you wouldn’t be gagging at the sight of the blistered lump on his arm.
“I—I mean I can try…that wasn’t there earlier.”
Taehyun hums as he drops the heavy box filled with gauzes and bandages, spilling all over the dirtied sheets you sat with crossed legs on, unsure of what you were to use first. “It wasn’t, end of story. The non-stick dressing in the box, Soobin keeps a roll in there always.”
A small burn, the size of a fingernail yet it’s blistered bright red-orange and tender around the edges. Being as observant as he is Taehyun can tell that’s not what you’re focused on. He notices how your eyes wander to the craters of suffering in his skin; bullet wounds, a scar of his severance from life in picket-fenced homes to the barren land of sodden alleyways. It’s like some invisible force tugs on your hand to caress the craters— beautifully decorated with lilies stretched from his collarbone down to his elbow, you want to cross the line again; snoop your head into business you shouldn’t do, business that should only be shared among criminals him.
“Taehyun,” the syllables of his name whispers softly from your lips, every vowel delicate and meek, “these scars, why would you—”
“I don’t like it when you talk too much. Focus on the task at hand, will you?” His tone is deliberate and coated with bitterness much contrasted to your gently uttered worries. However his eyes tell a different tale with how they lock onto yours— underlying in want that you couldn’t pinpoint and a desire you could only reciprocate. His wife-beater is pulled off in a quick haste, scratching at the still sore burn that has yet to be treated and Taehyun doubts it will be any time soon judging by your obvious gawking. Gawking at the toned muscle running down his stomach as thought sculpted with marble and pick.
“A good nurse doesn’t lust over her patients.” Taehyun had caught you in the middle of the act of glancing at the tanned muscle lined with sweat, although cold sweat as you brushed your hand along the raised surface in lust enhanced curiosity. “I wasn’t—” And Taehyun had caught you too in the surprise of a kiss; lips pressed to yours that you didn’t know how to respond to with each mesh of fat, crashing of warm tongues and the bite on your bottom lip as he caves in for more. Sloppy with no sense of direction, purely primal in mutual need as his hands crawl up the vines that guard the soft skin of your neck; a possession he’s not to touch. But Taehyun doesn’t want to play by the rules— not when he’s pent up with anger from Yeonjun’s scolding, not when you’re so easy to give in to him like this.
Detaching your lips from his for a breath is suffocating to say the least. You’re chasing after it again. The taste of sin on your lips and the pressure of his thumb cradled around your neck. Like it’s some sort of life force how his kisses turn into addiction, his touch bringing life to your diminishing soul as the sinking of his teeth dip into your neck and bruises your skin into darker blotches; tainted with the lapse of indulging in the debauchery of Taehyun.
He's rougher today, rushing every mark on your neck further as he paints the canvas of your body in his art style— the same stretch of lilies leading down to the edge of your chest that he grips under the bunched-up cotton of your dress. A dress that rips within the vicinity of his hands that are good for nothing other than slaughter, torn fabric revealing the innocence of your chest that heaves nervous breaths and pounds with ecstatic interest.
The split-dyed criminal doesn’t want you to play coy with him and whine at every touch with overly inexperienced moans. He wants to hear the filthiest pleas that run abrasive along the lining of your throat as he fucks you, until you can feel all the bad within him coursing through each rough slap of his hips like some ritual of corruption. He wants to mark you his, embellish your waist with his blood-soaked hands that pinch and slap at sensitive skin and evoke those tears of pain-rich pleasure.
“So fucking troublesome sweetheart seducing me like this,’ His hands push you head first into the hard plank of the thin and itchy mattress, fingers clamped on the sides of your jaw as he spat heavy words, “Tell me, has Jake fucked you before? Did he cum to those tears as well?”
You shake your head in denial, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slips a finger under the soaked cotton of your thin underwear to push it to the side— drenched with arousal that tastes sweet on his tongue as a coated finger glides over it. “So sweet, it’s a shame you upset me yesterday, I’m not in the mood to play nice.” You’re only given a few breathy seconds to conceive the warning of his words before he’s spreading your closed legs apart with nails sharply dug and penetrating through your thighs’ first layer of skin; leaving your core exposed to his preying eyes, a haven that’ll cost him any slim redemption he has left to trespass.
A sharp slap to your clit leaves you trembling and at a loss of words as he fondles the flesh of your folds— shrieks of pleasure eliciting from your lips as Taehyun marks painful love bites down the plump of your held thigh, the other hand busying itself on removing his pants that causes him to hiss when the fabric rubs against his flushed cock.
“Taehyun w—wait!” Your pleas barely make it past his selective hearing, entirely focused on the your wanton moans as he stretches your cunt obscenely, every wince and curse slowly melting into needy cries as you tighten your hold around his neck. “Taehyun I can’t! You’re not going to fit I’m—” He chuckles lowly at your horrified expression when he finally pushes in the bulbous girth of his tip, all teary-eyed and scared at the thought that he could rip you, salty droplets cascading down the round of your cheeks that he coos at with shallow sympathy. There’s nothing more that excites him than the pitiful pout that appears on your lips as he buries each inch further inside of you, vibrato groans from the tight squeeze of your warm cunt with a cocky smirk on his face when you start to claw your nails at him.
“if you stopped squeezing me so fucking tightly then maybe we’d actually get somewhere.” He’s barely halfway in when you’re crying again at how your hole gapes for him, impossible to widen more than it is already to fit the rest of him where he starts to thicken at the base. But Taehyun’s starting to get annoyed with your whines, he doesn’t want to sit around to hear your overdramatic cries forever— he wants to fuck you until your mind can’t think straight and you can’t contain the drool in your mouth, and he won’t get anywhere close if you’re going to stop him with each inch. So he bucks his hips straight into your gushing cunt, the last remaining inches shoved inside within seconds as he starts to pummel into you; a hand groping at your tits with a harsh grip that has you squirming around him.
“See? All this overreacting for what— your pussy’s just as much of an attention whore as you are. Always finding something to complain about, always getting on my nerves crying over nothing.”
“N—no! I was just scared that fuck! Tae you need to hah…slow down.” And you’re soon to regret your words because he starts to drag his hips at snail’s pace, his thrusts teasingly slow as he drinks in the furrow of your brows smugly with a chuckle. The stretch is still there but you’re not blessed with the delicious prod of his cock against your cervix anymore, the thrill and heat of your bodies together suddenly dying down into desperate need displayed on the tears that threaten to spill again— denied of sufficient touch as his hand retracts from your chest.
“What? Not happy? Should keep your mouth shut to stop you from whining like a bitch, maybe then you’ll learn to take what I give whores like you.”
Thick fingers push at your lips, resting deep past the flat of your tongue as you gagged lewdly waiting for him to pick up the pace again, to help resolve the knot building up in your stomach that causes you to jolt when he fans his breath on your chest.
“You’re prettier when you actually listen.”
Taehyun leans his forehead into the small space between your neck and shoulder. Licking over the hickeys that finally started to set— still tender and painful to touch. Yet when he targets the same spot again the stinging sensation dissolved within the delectable rough of sex erupts moans that vibrate around his fingers that push down on the warm muscle inside, leaving gaps for drool to stream down your face messily.
He's plunging back inside your pussy which squelches with juices that soil the sheets beneath you on the shaking nurse-bed. But your mind can’t give one to care about what either of you will say to Soobin later— it’s not like you can make an excuse up on the spot when the male nestled into your chest is fucking you harder than the last and faster than your staccato moans can keep up.
Another launch of slaps land on the side of your thigh as you shake with the pleasure rinsing from each handprint flashing onto your skin for short seconds. Your hips jerk up to meet his; burying him deeper inside of you, scratching with your nails down the muscle of his back and shoulder sharp enough to leave them smeared in small specks of blood as you cling onto him with craving.
“Fuck, you’re so nasty clenching around my dick when I slap you like this. Do the others know how dirty you really are? Beomgyu surely does with how you shared that blunt with him this morning, is that who you learned it from? The other little pain slut?”
His taunting causes you to clench around him embarrassingly with each of his words that slur into grunts, unable to argue yourself any dignity the moment he pulls his fingers out of your mouth to find refuge around your neck—hands lightly clasped around it but closing in tighter when he brushed the beginning of your jaw.
“You’ve been stepping out of line lately, don’t think I should let you cum today.”
Mean was an understatement for how Taehyun appeared to you with that last clause. Eyelids hung low with borderline earnest watching your breath pause in sync with the rhythmic slamming of his hips.
He wants you to beg. To submit to him and his megalomania-rotted head. The tears, drool, furrowed eyebrows and pleading eyes accompanied by the swivel of your hips that yearn for his touch pathetically like you couldn’t possibly cum without him as he squeezes the air out of your lungs. And he’s right that you can’t cum without him— your fingers are flimsy and inexpert with naivety, they don’t know the ins and outs and the spongy spots that have your eyes rolling back in excitement like Taehyun does on the back of his hand.
Your voice barely shies of whispering, diverting your gaze onto the hands bundling the sheets into ripples within your grasp; symbolic of how you clutch onto Humphrey’s words like they’re sacrament, but you’ve already deviated so far from it the moment you walked into those foreign alleyways. It’s entirely impossible to believe wholeheartedly that a criminal like Taehyun is no different to the thugs on the street. Because being in his presence alone is the closest you’ll come to bliss, safer than any inn you’d have to dig your pockets for to stay the night.
And your hand relaxes, palm flat across your forehead that sweats with tension. Gentle rises of chest as you bat your eyelashes in total lust, lips barely open apart to beg of him.
“Make me cum please, Taehyun.”
Five words uttered in the most docile manner seem ironic when he responds with the persistent drilling of his hips into your pulsing cunt that envelops him with every second of contact; trying to savour the stretch of his girth for a moment longer, each stroke more intense than its predecessor.
On every calculated thrust that pushed you further up the headrest of the bed he rubs soothing circles on the surface of your thigh; a catalyst for the pit of fire ignited in your lower abdomen. “Can’t believe I didn’t fuck this cunt earlier— just look how you’re sucking me in baby.”
The biggest mistake you could make was listening to him, watching the lewd scene unfold as his body flushes against yours— the wet squelch that disrupts the stillness of the nursing room with suppressed whimpers and immodest groans. A sight that pushes you on edge as your legs clamp around him with pooling desire; the knot starting to undo itself with each pant of his breath that sounds through the small space between your lips.
“I won’t be able to tell you’re close if you’re keeping your whimpers from me.”
Taehyun doesn’t falter with the rock of his hips, never slowing down to let you catch your breath, intent on undoing the ache in your stomach that yearns for his touch. You shake with each plunge of his tip as he lays a hand on your stomach— grounding you from moving any further while his band-aid clad finger clamps tighter around your throat, drowning out your moans into gasps when he continually targets the bundle of nerves that drive you over edge.
“Don’t worry about making a mess, just cum for me like a good girl.” And as if on command you’re pulsing around him, legs shaking from the shock of your crashing orgasm as you cum around him. You’re still adjusting to the waves of pleasure when Taehyun drops his hands to wrap around your thighs again. Still hard, still after your tears that drives his dick to twitch at the dirty thought of it, and so he ploughs through your orgasm— bathing in the surprise storming your eyes and the loll of your tongue caught in gasps and tiny shrieks.
Overwhelmed with pleasure you latch onto his arms, the sting of the burn as your hands accidentally fiddle over the skin causes him to bite down on his already cut lip, feeling close to his own release when he sees the sultry pilling of tears that drench your cheeks and the weak fingers that grip onto the refined muscle.
Only he can have you like this. The one to provoke your watery eyes and your erotic cries that ring repeatedly in his ears— his favourite song, tuned with your high-pitched whimpers that reels his cock in like a fish on a hook. Your cunt pulsing and gaping to swallow him whole with a warmth that Taehyun curses he can live inside of you forever; cumming shorty after on to your fucked-out face still lost in the overstimulation, mixing with your tears into an even saltier concoction of lewd intervention.
A thumb caresses you from your episode of tears, allowing your heart rate to come to a rest— but you doubt the orgasm’s the problem, especially when he wipes you of his seed and kisses the marks on your neck and chest with attentiveness.
If it were anyone else you’d ask them to stay. To let you rest on the comfort of their chest as you nod off into light sleep to the sound of their heartbeat. But you know who Taehyun is. By the time you’ve closed your eyes he’ll be out the door again a busy man, who finds tremendous work in smoking weed inside his station. A pastime he prefers to tending to your needs, because you could resolve it yourself with a blunt too and the burn of alcohol down your throat when he’s gone.
Since that’s how he solves his problems.
That’s how everyone solves their problems in these slums.
“Can’t you stay for a little longer?”
The male nicks a small gauze and bandage with his dishevelled hair lazily tussled with his hand— a cigarette in his mouth already to help him forget the weight of his actions, for falling into temptation, for this fuck-and-leave habit you’ll have to get used to.
“You know the answer to that already,”
Sometimes you wish you could be cradled in arms that’ll clear your mind of everything.
And you got really fucking close to that. With the man in the front seat who speeds down the city’s highways late at night, when officers are fixed on heading home rather than chase a black Mercedes that’ll only cause them overtime. Over the week since your rule-breaking stunt in Soobin’s workroom you’ve returned to the awkward stage you fought so hard to climb out of. No more greetings, no more small talk when you catch each other in the concrete hallways and no more appearances at the table Kai, Beomgyu and Soobin sat at with you; sharing a blunt for breakfast whenever heists were slow.
Taehyun’s been noticeably uneasy around you for whatever reason you can’t pinpoint. And even as he drives you downtown to the club Soobin’s celebrating at following his girlfriend’s release he’s reserved in his own little world, that doesn’t have you in the frame.
“You’re doing it again.”
“We’ve talked over it. Don’t make a fuss.” Dismissive again, and you can’t tell if you’re overthinking the status of your relationship simply because you got used to the taste of some sincerity or if you weren’t a good fuck. If you were boring and reeked of inexperience, if was out of pity since you didn’t finish in the alleyway. The pit in your stomach starts to drop at the thought. Makes you feel sick in your skin tight dress Yeonjun had peeled from Stephanie this time— a favourite of his, and as petty as it may sound, you’re jealous that she’s being called back for seconds while you’re still stuck in this middle point with nowhere to go. Not wanting to step anywhere out into the danger zone with Taehyun, in case things take a turn for the worse.
Or maybe things have already taken a turn for the worse with how he turns on the radio to hinder you from bothering him anymore; reclined in the backseat with your arms crossed under your chest in a huff. You can tell he’s watching you from the mirror, and you hate that he kisses his teeth at you like this tension is all your fault, because everything in life wants to follow that side of the story.
“You talked it over. I didn’t even get a chance to say anything!” Your best attempt at talking over the radio. Shouting with your fists clenched tight in anger until sweat started to break through your makeup, “You’re treating me like a stranger!”
“You’re not one of us.” That irritating tweeting noise again, the whole ‘you don’t belong here’ bullshit you’ve been fed your whole life as if it were truth, and it may as well be although you’re ashamed to admit you’ve never felt more at home with Eternally; with criminals. Than you ever have with Humphrey, than you ever have with Jaeyun or your family when it was the three of you sat down for supper.
“You don’t fucking know me Taehyun.” The male doesn’t like that you’ve grown your teeth, not one bit. If he had the option to he’d sew your mouth shut with thread so you couldn’t argue with him— he hates arguing, he hates it when he feels out of control. But then he’d be unable to hear your whines, those sweet sobs that define him as the grossest pervert with how he gets hard thinking about it and he doesn’t want that, never.
“What don’t I know? I know you like it when I choke you like some slut.”
“That’s not it!” Heat rushes to your face hearing how agitated you sound when Taehyun couldn’t be calmer, like this whole argument’s going to end on a deaf ear of his again, all your efforts to waste, “I’ve had it ten times worse than you running away from your bitch of a mother!” That sentence was never meant to leave your lips. Your mouth running like a fountain of newfound hatred you would’ve never sought two weeks ago when you were still laid on the sofa with Humphrey, all sweet and smiley despite what came at you.
When were you capable of such insensitive words? Capable of turning suffering into a competition when you should know better than anyone the hurt of it all— after everything he confided in you, the solemn slant of his eye as he spoke of his mother and his cheater of a father, you made it about yourself again.
Was it the drugs? The drinks you emptied on the lonely nights you’d wander into his room?
Or was it the temptation of sex you should’ve never tried? And its conflicting nature because you’re spiralling. Spiralling on the days when you wash your face in the mirror looking more dreadful than you did with a gash to the back of your head with blood crystals stuck messily to your hair before you met him. But it shouldn’t be that way because you’ve never felt safer and more fulfilled than when you’re in his hold— when he caresses your face like the finest china, afraid you’d break if he was too rough.
Maybe, you lost that delicate aspect the second time when he finally entered inside of you; all used and dirtied in your mouth, all corrupt for him to choke and fuck lovelessly as he ruined the purity of your haven with his twisted, unchaste talk.
You’re almost unrecognisable now aside from the features encompassing your face; the remnants of a murderer, painted with the seed of a killer you don’t dare to face.
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know Taehyun maybe the fact that I’m the one that’s been fucking guilty my whole life because my dad killed Lee Min-hyung years ago?”
Ridicule only adds salt to the wound—he laughs, laughs louder and heartier than he ever has; with insanity Yeonjun’s pales in comparison to. There’s no essence of anger that startles you who comes to a standstill in fear again as he starts to speed dangerously fast down the road with a laughter that wasn’t subsiding. You cling onto the backseats with your eyes-squeezed shut as his Mercedes swerved between incoming traffic also headed towards the night life of the city that you’ve long lost the excitement for. And when he finally parks himself outside of the club entrance with your hair in a mess and your dress halfway ridden up your thigh he finally drops the maniacal laughter, turning his head around with wrongful amusement.
“Your father killed Lee Heeseung’s uncle little-one, would he be pleased to find out your fucking criminals too now?” The pit in your stomach drops with unease, widening your eyes and stuttering in shock. The Lees, Lee Heeseung’s circle that Humphrey had begged you to avoid— and they found you within an instant here in Alton, and Jaeyun was working with them; Jaeyun had led them here.
“Y—you know..about it?” Spit clogs in your throat when you’re on the verge of puking your stomach’s contents out in this very car; you couldn’t stand it, the sickly memory rushing back to you.
“Listen here little-one, that madman’s pointed his gun at every single person in Alton trying to find you, and that includes Yeonjun’s late sister so I’d advise you keep your pretty mouth shut from now.”
And you do, God you do. Because now it isn’t just a matter of being blamed for your father’s actions, indirectly, your existence has cost the lives of innocents too. It wretches your stomach to think about it— the perspective Taehyun’s shifted onto you like a laugh to the face because you’re not the centre of everything, you’re neither the worst sufferer nor sinner on finite earth, and it renders you speechless when he leans into your neck.
Marks you’ve spent hours covering with plasters and foundation put your labour to waste as he bites and sucks into the prone skin of your shoulder again except it doesn’t take your mind off the raiding thoughts in your mind this time.
“Murderer’s daughter or not, you’re still mine tonight.”
You spend the whole night at the club with your arm awkwardly rubbing at your collarbone to cover Taehyun’s hickeys that warded off any man that wanted to approach you with disgust. While he went off in the corner booths leaving you alone, surrounded by an audience of women that smothered their hands over his thigh.
Among that audience being Soobin’s girlfriend, sat prettily on his thigh as she poured liquor the same shade of crimson as the humiliation resonating within you down his inviting lips. Your posture slumps at the bar with ugly jealousy that you don’t understand because Soobin’s sat directly opposite them with a bar girl touching him up likewise— and to an oblivious eye you wouldn’t even be able to tell they were dating to begin with. So why do you feel jealous when even Soobin’s unbothered? You’re not here to be stuck to his side, you’re not his girlfriend. So why do your eyes brim with tears when you notice him suck and bruise her skin red and purple down to her chest in a beautiful design that outshone the lazy and messy splotches randomly placed over your skin?
Perhaps because he said you were his,
The weight of his words falling flat on the ground, meaningless and a spur of the moment thought.
And you really don’t want to ruin the lively mood tonight but your feet have a mind of their own as they storm towards Taehyun, his eyes making contact with yours before sending a smug smirk in your direction. One that weakens your knees and buckles you in because what excuse could you possibly have to reason why you’re upset with him? Sex, heartfelt conversations, he’s marked and called you his—but what makes you any different to the doll perched up on his lap sat with blinking eyes and long lashes as she questions your relevance, or well, irrelevance.
On instinct he pats Soobin’s girlfriend off his lap with a face that emanates neither expression nor emotion, trudging towards you with his hands in his pockets before removing them to flick at the marks you’ve been covering with two fingers.
“I said you were mine tonight, not sulk like some lost mutt out here.”
Inconsiderate words pierce your heart with glib depressions. Transported back to Homer’s it seems with how everyone’s head turns to gawk at the spectacle you and Taehyun star in, shame unable to conceal itself on your face when Soobin’s girlfriend scoffs at your stunt—the humiliation of it all to have to approach Taehyun in this manner becoming overbearing.
You’re practically on the verge of crying when Taehyun drags you outside of the back entrance of the club, not a word shared between you as he led you through iron-barred doors into the depths of the alleyway lit with a single overhead street lamp that casted shadows over dark and tired eyes.
You had so much to say off the top of your head out of pure anger and raw emotion yet when you stand face-to-face with him it’s like he steals the voice from your mouth, as if he’d become your mouthpiece that you nod and agree with every word to.
It doesn’t help that you’re getting tired of yourself as well. His previous nitpicking from your earlier conversation dabbling into your thoughts because you’ve picked an argument with him at least three times already, always find a problem to argue over;always making a fuss.
“Upset because I kissed up someone else’s girlfriend?”
“It’s not just that! —”
“You have to get used to it little-one, no criminal cares about morals out here. I can fuck Soobin’s girlfriend and she’ll take my dick like a slut. Oh! Was that toovulgar? Are you going to cry again?” Mocking whines fall on your shoulders that tremble with baseless anger as your eyes stare at the detailing of the squashed beer can beneath your feet. It’s not dirty talk this time, not some taunting that makes you crave him to salvage the need within you that he satiates with mere rough sex, it’s sincere. The sincerest words he’s ever said to you within your short time together past all the heated kisses and hand holding as he exhaled the smoke of his hit with the blunt in to your mouth.
“One minute you’re all over me and the next you’re dishing me to the side like I’m scrap Taehyun— I don’t even know if I’m mad at you or not, you— you’re confusing me.” Upon hearing your complaints his head cocks to the side; blonde ends framing his terribly alluring face that you can’t pick between kissing and kicking.
“So you’re not mad sweetheart? That’s all I wanted to hear from you.” He laughs off the argument again with ease; Taehyun’s not the type to fight, he chooses to dismiss. Rather bathe in the heat of agitation than be on the losing end to an argument.
Sweetheart. Such a simple nickname that rolls off his tongue smoothly like he’s done this countless of times before, but it’s enough for you to melt like putty in his hands when he pats your face gently with a dimpled smile on his face. Shit— Taehyun makes it really impossible to stay angry at when he knows how to pull on your heartstrings like this, when he can fabricate your version of events to fit his.
“Fine I’m not—”
“Fancy seeing you two getting so close. Tell me, slum lovers, did you lose a finger for that poorly executed plan at Homer’s?”
You hear it— a quickly ran through sentence, maybe a laugh thrown in between and a sudden cadence you weren’t expecting to hear again, not so soon at least. The recognition of the smooth voice claws through to your lungs and strangles you breathless. You don’t want to look up, don’t want to believe that the voice is his but even in this alleyway, down in the ends of the city where the EDM booms louder than the bullets in the gun Taehyun digs in his back pocket for, you can recognise the tinge of malice in his tone you never wanted to look back on.
“Woah— hey, hey now Taehyun. Let’s talk this out, shall we? You hand Jake the girl and we’ll leave Eternally alone for good— how does that sound? On top of two million up front? Surely that girl can’t mean that much to you—”
The fire of a gunshot crackles in the air with unpredictability, originating too close to your timid ears as Taehyun holds you tight to his chest with his gun slotted securely in his hand. Too quick for you to grasp the situation as your ears ring with the sudden burst of the bullet and your heartbeat fastens with worry-fuelled adrenaline as you stare at the pool of blood trickling on the floor.
“Your leader should know better to fire first than to run his mouth.”
Heeseung lays still in his own blood splatter that makes his cherry-red trenches look dull, his deep chuckles that sent shivers down your spine replaced with the shouts of a frantic Jake who rushes over to check for the expansion of his chest with breath but pales physically when the goosebumps of his skin start to run cold increasingly fast.
His body sprawls with his limbs limp and stuck with the coagulating blood by his ankles. For a second you get an insight of just who Taehyun can be as he laughs with guilty hands rubbing down his face, pulling at his eyes in the process as he drops the gun in your shaking ones that struggle to adapt to the weight of the pistol; and the price of Taehyun’s sins laying burdensome in your palms. It’s unnatural for you to clasp around the grip without the interception of his hand ghosting over yours. He’s not touched the blood nor did the splatter reach him, yet the foul stench of copper diffuses into his natural musk— bloodlust still visible in the menacing smile he leaves you with as he whispers, soft but with an edge, in your ear.
“You want to be a part of us don’t you, baby? You want me to trust you and take you seriously?” His hand redirects the muzzle of his gun wrapped within your fingers to Jake who lays armless with stark-awake eyes that plead with mercy you thought you could only find in teenage Jaeyun all those nights ago. Eyes that don’t look at you with disgust for your father and your doomed blood that flows most viscously with the remorse of murder, but instead forgiveness as he plasters the shakiest smile he could have on his lips.
“You remember right? That night in the closet I—I spared your life so can you…can you..let this one time go?” His voice trembles with the same fear he stammered on the very premise of the park that turned you from best friends to strangers overnight; from resting on each other’s shoulders, and dreaming of make it out of slanted-roof slums to moving miles apart from each other, unfamiliar’s in the making.
“Anyone smart would’ve ran away by now. Your little friend here doesn’t have the heart to be a proper gangster, does he?” His finger pushes your frozen-still ones up the to the trigger, dancing around the danger of possibility and the consequences of bad decisions. Amateur hands should’ve never found refuge on the mass of cold steel laced with gun powder that takes you back to two weeks ago—when you would have been on the receiving end of the bullet in that interrogation room if it weren’t for Taehyun. Who now snickers barbarically at your conscience’s last attempts to sway you—how you vowed to forbid this moment, promised to never have lost yourself in the craze of savagery in the likes of your damned father.
Except Taehyun’s read you like a book, reread every crease in the page and every torn edge to understand what it takes for you to listen, for you to obey at his orders as he kisses the back of your ear gently with a hand slithered around your waist. “What are you waiting for baby? Fucking shoot him.”
Jaeyun still has hands in the starchy-thick air for you to see through the facets of his crimes, “We planned to make it…” Jaeyun gulps loudly with a quivering intake of breath, “—planned to not end up like our parents…we were going to make it to fucking LA, shit we can make it out of these slums together I’ve made enough cash— “
“Damn incompetent bastard, all he’ll do is leave you again like before. You know I won’t leave you baby, Eternally will take care of you so pull the trigger for me, will you?”
Sometimes you wish that the arms that cradle you would be Taehyun’s.
And not the fingers that graze the white of your knuckle from clammy hands clutched around the pistol.
Because when he jeers at you with the exact spite of the slums you crawled from all those years ago, “Fucking shoot him!” Your head blanks with white noise as your finger desensitises from the lurking dread that seeps into every lining of your body; your eyes water with the cries of the thousands you’ve disappointed, your ears chiming with funeral bells as you mourn the loss of your remaining innocence and your mouth runs dry watching the river flood and saturate with the vermillion that mixes with bright scarlet.
Dead, at the ungranted mercy of your hands, Sim Jaeyun was.
And you thought you had made the right decision when Taehyun coos at you in that same babying tone. I knew you could do it baby, you see that? self-defence, so don’t be scared about making the right decision— there’s nothing scary about a bullet or a gun.
But the right decision shouldn’t inflict tears to stream out of your tearducts that dart off the surface of your burning cheeks as Taehyun drags you by the wrist again to run— this time away from the flashing flares of alternating reds and blues and blaring sirens instead of the thumping bass of the club the two of you lost yourselves in argument in.
Right decisions don’t fill your lungs with acid that leaves you feeling sour all over.
Right decisions don’t cause the sweat of your palms to drip with a reddish-hue as your mind traces back the blood trail that connects you to the solemn stiffness of the corpses.
But making that decision offered you the equally blood-stained hand of Taehyun, who interlocks his fingers between your corrupt ones in a non-church-bell marriage that vows a pact of secrecy.
Your very own oath and definition of ‘til death do us part’ as he shoves you into the backseat of his car with guilty-as-good hands that roam over the blemishes of your body.
And the metaphoric rings you exchange on each other’s fingers as he enters you with a lust-crazed purr followed by the damning of his blasphemous hips that cave into the darkening of your impure womb.
For if Taehyun was a sin to indulge in then he shouldn’t feel like the closest route to Heaven. And if it is a crime in itself to even look him in the eye you’ll repent for an eternity to stare at him from the comfort of his work room. As he inks shallow, loveless matching tattoos on skin that can’t be scrubbed of blood, nor the bitter tear stains he loves to death.
Because you know what they say,
The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.
A/N: WHEW my longest fic as of now done !!! Definitely a tougher one to write because it’s got darker themes and a lot of concepts i’m not super experienced in, but it was fun to redraft and old work <3 not proof read sorry. !!!
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Kiss List !! 💋
── .✦ pairing: c.yj x reader
The whole world knows by now how much you despise Choi Yeonjun, yet he seems to never leave your mouth albeit being muddled in a monologue of spite. He's always chasing after what's yours and you're always chasing after his downfall- in this tedious game of cat and mouse a new competition lights a fire in your souls- one that stems out of jealousy. ࣪𖤐
╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead...
…or in simple words…ʀɪᴠᴀʟ!ʏᴇᴏɴᴊᴜɴ x ʀɪᴠᴀʟ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
ᝰ.ᐟ wc - 14.7k
mentions!! and warnings!! jealousy sex wrapped in anger, p with p, cocky!yeonjun, fingering, small edging scene, handjob, Yeonjun has nipple piercings & hence nipple play, spitting, hair-pulling, some degradation, unprotected p in v, kiss scenes of reader with others written in somewhat detail but no yeonjun scenes with any of the female idols (don’t write idol x idol), creampie, marking, switch!yj and reader, drinking, smoking, both of them have raging superiority complexes and are annoying sorry guys!!!
tyunningism's note: Finally completed wooo !!! Big weight off my schedule for me so i’m glad it’s out and ready for you guys to read hehe. Got super carried away with all the side characters kiss scenes but hopefully it’s up to standard !!
Coffee-stained, crumpled, poorly put together by no other than Choi Yeonjun is how you would describe the flimsy sheet of paper— slipped onto the grain of the college’s study table you booked for privacy…before he came along.
“This is?—“
“—A kiss list. Four for you, four for me. Whoever kisses everyone on their list first gets to have the loser do whatever they want for a year. And I’m warning ya, it’s not going to be me.” The male pulls up a chair to situate himself on the other end of the desk, his fist hidden in the fat of his cheek as he leans on an arm expectant for your response.
But it seems as if you’re the only person on campus who can see through this ‘friendly party-animal’ act he’s got going on. You pick up on his bad habits— or should you say actinglikeajerkandcoveringitwithawidesmile— that others don’t.
And that includes the time in high school when he completely forgot to hand in his hunk of work for the final chemistry project; too occupied with ‘basketball practice’ when realistically he had been smoking with your brother in your penthouse. Combining his 49% and your 105% with extra credit, the both of you received a combined grade of B— the only B you’ll receive in your life and you’ll make sure of it, as long as Choi Yeonjun doesn’t get picked to be partners with you once more.
Moral of the story, the red head in front of you is a sneaky jerk you shouldn’t enter some stupid competition he’s obviously better at with. However, something you would like to see is his dumbfound face crushed under your foot like some peasant bug. That’s what really drags you into these competitions that are nothing but a waste of time for you and a game to keep him doing something other than whipping it out of his pants all the time.
And you hate to admit that you enjoy the thrill of it— especially because as of now the score for you to Yeonjun is 100 to 99. Meaning that another victory will consolidate you as the winner of this never ending childish competition you always find yourself partaking in, it’ll put an end to 6 years of bickering you’re dying for.
You sip out of your mango smoothie to clear your throat as you shut your laptop to talk to him face to face, bathing in how he rolls his eyes out of impatience when you take your sweet sweet time to dab and refine the lipstick on the corner of your lip.
“You’re telling me you want to compete over who can kiss more people faster? That’s obviously biased in your favour Choi.”
“And as ugly as you are you’re still somehow on my best friend’s top ten girls he wants to fuck list, and it’s not just him.” A finger drags towards the first photo poorly stuck on your half of the list, a shaggy male you’ve seen countless of times before in Yeonjun’s circle.
“And you decided to add Beomgyu after hearing that?”The male sticks his tongue out sourly at the thought you put in his head, attempting to squeeze the cup of your smoothie while you lean in for another sip, but you know Yeonjun and his antics far too well by now to snatch the cup away.
“For fun. I added a little someone to balance it out.” His tapped finger lands on a photo of Mina Myoi— a good fucking photo as well, if only she weren’t your backstabbing ex best friend.
“You wouldn’t.” A sharp nail glides along the vulnerable paper of the photo leaving a white scratch mark down her face which you grin at.
“Jealous? She’s been begging to get a taste of me since you introduced us.”
“That fat ego of yours wouldn’t let you risk that kind of punishment.” The weight of your bag starts to sag as you organise your textbooks and pens one by one; lipgloss in hand as you swipe it along your lips and a hand tucking your chair in with courtesy.
“And that fat ego understands I’m not losing this time to a girl who can’t get laid.” He rocks back on his chair with his legs crossed over one another, the strawberry gum in his mouth wafting towards your direction as he chews irritatingly loud with aggravation towards you.
Which works because shortly after you’re leaning across the desk to pop his bubble with the end of your nail, wickedly amused as it splatters all over his mouth and the unshaved stubble you point out.
“Not when I’m playing this game of yours too, Choi, don’t get too cocky.”
As you walk away from the study table you still had booked for another half hour, you’re reminded of the three things to keep in mind when entering the same battlefield as Choi Yeonjun— who’s still got gum all over face despite you leaving his vicinity a good 3 minutes ago.
1 — Choi Yeonjun will go all kinds of lengths to win.
And that includes buttering up to your father with that grossly moisturised face and puckered lips; he’s shaved his stubble, slicked his hair back, and somehow forced himself into a suit and tie instead of his regular hoodie horribly paired with those outdated black jorts. His little clean up of his usual scraggly messy look always puts a smile on your lips— because he’s not fooling anyone that he’s some next level business man with the red box dye stained in his hair. And if he was going to go red, he could most definitely afford a hairstylist in one of his father’s many hotel chains to do it for him rather than splotch it on blindly.
He’s still favourable among most of your family, or well…everyone but you in the family. Always joining for dinner sat at the righthand of your father while you were a couple seats further down, like it was routine— like he was some favourite child that managed to walk in and snag everyone from your grasp.
Whatever it was that you had he’d compete with you over it. Including now as you try to politely ask the butler for another drink with the wave of your hand while he deafens the room with a cough straight into his palms…gross. And the scowl on your face is nothing short of ‘unladylike’ as your mother calls it when the butler tends to his disgusting cough over your sign, a sly smirk on his face as he points towards the lemon-infused water dispenser.
“You don’t even drink water. Every time I see you there’s a can of monster in your hands.” You should’ve seen the slap to your hand coming from your mother who hisses at your insolence but you still find the bother in you to frown and rub at the after-burn with your palm.
“It would be brilliant if the two of you would just get along for once.” Clad in his work suit still you can already expect the routine of events that are about to unfold; a napkin to wipe at his mouth, a long talk about the history of business between the Chois and your family, how you should both enter the lounge to interact with each other kindly, all before your father’s left the table himself to enter the dungeon he calls his office.
There’s not a word exchanged between the two of you as you leave your respected seats to head towards the lounge warmed up by the artificial fire place your father loves so very dearly— but you’d much rather prefer a real fireplace, in the instance that you’d be able to throw Choi Yeonjun who’s sauntering behind you into it.
“No need to walk with a straight back, no one can see your hunchback down here.” A smile graces your lips as you spin on your heel to face him, eyebrows quirked in victory as he finally shrugs the burden of having to look proper in front of your parents. The tie around his neck is tugged loose as he unbuttons the first button of his collar; something your purity-culture fanatic mother would lose her mind over.
“You’re one to talk with the rip in your dress right now. Lilac underwear, that’s cute.” One sentence alone is enough to cut off your short lived upper-hand and feel around the back of your ass for a rip in the expensive dress— horror sewn into each strain of muscle in your shock-ridden face. Which evolves into anger when he howls in laughter clutching at his stomach; ruining his perfectly ironed shirt. “Hah—You’d think that the top student would be less gullible.”
“How did you know..the colour?” He had wiped his false tears away with a finger yet when you ask him the anything but absurd question it truly triggers real tears of amusement to form.
“Pfft! — Just a lucky guess…so Mingi’s little sister wears lilac underwear? Too scared to try something sexy like black?” The male dashes ahead of you to find comfort on the cashmere couch, his performatively polished shoes kicked up on the padding which you swat off with great force.
“First of all, that’s too niche of a guess and second lilac can be sexy too!” You’re sat on the opposite armchair, your legs crossed close in case he happened to have peeked under your dress during dinner, with classic literature he wouldn’t be able to name in your hands as you skipped to your bookmark. He’s nothing short of prideful as he leans on his side, an arm bent to rest his head as he pulls faces at the book you’re holding. “That Rihanna lingerie brand you girls like to fawn over, kept seeing the same set on every one of ‘em.”
And while the brand he’s on about isn’t the pricey lace you’ve got on at the moment you’re no less appalled by how verbal he is about who he’s sleeping with— when you had to pay hush money to keep Heeseung quiet about fucking you, hot tits according to him, who opened his mouth at every opportunity to describe your parts to his friends in absurd detail.
“Fuck you Choi Yeonjun —”
“Don’t remember adding that rule or myself to the kiss list, love.” That kiss list again. After three days of no mention about it you assumed he had forgotten about such a stupid idea, but with how he’s scrambling through the stitched-pockets of his blazer he must’ve been thinking about kissing his half of girls since forever. Although, when is he not?
Yeonjun’s quite the little celebrity around here in a different means to you. While your popularity is still tied to your actress mother and business-frenzied father, Yeonjun’s is directly sourced from baseless rumours you’ll never be granted the opportunity...? The chance…? to prove; that he’s good in bed— really fucking good apparently. And that means he doesn’t even need to lift a finger before those four girls are all over his lips while you might have to send a wink or two as a hint to the men who’re nothing less of the dirt under your heel on that very list.
“I find it unfair that you got to choose who you get to kiss and who I’ve got to kiss as well. Come on Choi, you’re pairing me up with Ellis— doesn’t he like guys?!” Your eyes scan over the piece of paper, even more crumpled than when you last saw it probably from showing it off to his friends.
Choi Beomgyu at the very top of the list…you don’t know what he majors in but you know that if Yeonjun is dumb then he’s dumber. Probably even begged to be on top of that list after all those failed attempts at trying to hit on you at every party, and you would’ve agreed to his dates earlier if only he wasn’t tightly knit with the red-head scratching his scalp.
“Not fancying Mr 70% Muscle mass?” Choi San is lazily stuck on and cut off at the flex of his biceps most likely out of jealousy from Yeonjun— who doesn’t even bother to cut around the silhouette of the black-haired male, the sauna behind him still in view around some difficultly sharp curves. You’ve had your eye on him for a while after spotting him first at Ryujin’s pool party; toned and tanned with abs basically poking out your eyes with how defined they were. If only you weren’t dating that crybaby Sungchan at the time you would’ve most definitely slept with him that very night, and though you didn’t you were a hair’s inch away from prowling onto him even with Sungchan’s kisses still lingering on your lips.
“Mr Muscle Mass can stay, he’s real boy toy material and I heard his daddy’s quite well off as well. Motor company or something— he’d be an easy target if he knows to chase after someone in his league.” When you flick onto the next page of the book you’re struck with a whole text of explicit sensual sex you mindlessly read the build up to without thinking, squeezing your crossed legs a little tighter when you skim over the main character’s teasing.
“Squeezing your thighs thinking about him? Or Minho there?” He finally sits upright to reach for the desserts neatly stacked on to silver cake trays prepared by the patisserie chef and eaten by the red-head solely, his eyes not leaving your legs even when you shout at him. “I wasn’t! And I’ve already kissed Minho so he’ll run back for seconds in no time.”
Crumbs attach themselves on to the corner of his lips as he chews. “Made it easy for you didn’t I?” Said with such leniency as if he’s rigged the list to give you an upper hand you could’ve achieved without his help, until you wander your eyes back to Ellis who still remains on the list.
“Switch Ellis with someone else you prick, he’s not going to kiss me back!” You know this is one of Yeonjun’s many ways of obstructing your victory, completely unfair in how he’s picked himself a whole chain of girls who’ll ruin their perfectly layered lipstick without him needing to ask— and how he’s picked a target who doesn’t like women for you to figure out.
“Picking and choosing again, what do you think of Jongseong, Jay? Fucking musical genius he is I heard, but he’s really reserved to his own little group. Think you can handle it princess?” Something about those nicknames he likes to tick you off with stirs your stomach weirdly. Not in disgust nor lovely butterflies, but because he shouldn’t be using them when you’re bickering and competing against each other into total warfare. Even if it rolls off his tongue so naturally you don’t even question him about it.
Jay who’s a musical genius with his guitar— of course you know about him, but not through the melodies he’s critically appraised for, you know him through his old-money heritage and that’s what ends up ripping off Ellis’ face in the end to replace it with a fresh and uncrumpled Jay.
“Fancying guitarists I see. Wanna host a costume party at yours? To get the actual kiss list going you know.” You close your book back to its sage cover at the mention of hosting a party; fun, you haven’t hosted one in a while and it would definitely be some sort of advantage in knocking off that kiss list of yours. But the last time you hosted a party three months ago the smug male sat opposite you took over by storm and drove his car head first into your holiday home’s fence.
“No shot. We blamed some random guy for what you did last time and I’m not covering your ass again.” You frown at the recall of your parents’ scolding and your brother’s uncontrollable laughter. If you were going to host a party then you shouldn’t invite Yeonjun. And if you didn’t invite Yeonjun then he’d host a party on the exact same day as yours out of pettiness— that’s just how far this rivalry of yours will go.
“Then I’ll host it at the Cheryl Manor. I’ll text you the details…or not since we’re on opposite teams anyway,” The male readjusts his tie and slicks his hair back into shape as an indicator that he’s ready to leave, not wanting to drop the well kempt image in front of your parents as he prepares to bid them goodbye with a flattering compliment and handshake you’ll roll your eyes at.
“Oh—and spoiler alert the Imogen girl dies in that book.”
Saturday night rolls by in an instant, the thump of music audible from the balcony of your penthouse as you stumped your cigarette on its tray— letting Winter untangle the curls in your hair with her manicured fingers as she swats away the ashes blown in the air. The city rushes with cars even at the darkest hours of night and the lights to the manor on the hills remain flashing and lit. Late to the party by an hour you are, but you’ve always prefered the high of a sudden appearance to an awestruck crowd than watch the number of invitees fill up from the corner of the room.
Yeonjun had messaged you that the dress code was ‘sexy’, yet you perk at the sight of Winter’s pink-frilled skirt and corset bedazzled with diamonds paired with a tiara nestled in her neatly styled hair. And she returns the same fleeting glances at the sheer nylon tights strapped to your thighs, black latex shorts that clung to your hips with a matching v-line top. Lace gloves ran down from your forearms to your fingertips in contrast to the pink silk that ran down hers, and in that very moment a sunken gut feeling triggers you to realise there’s an elephant in the room that needs to be addressed.
“What did he tell you was the dress code—not sexy costume party, was it?” You spin on your heel to lean your back against the balcony, watching as Winter shook her head in disapproval, quickly checking through her messages in case she had read the memo wrong. “Costume party…but it was supposed to be fairytale based—and you look like cat woman,”
Of course you did, Yeonjun had told you Beomgyu would be there as ‘sexy batman’ or whatever that meant, and in an attempt to garner his attention you decided to discreetly match. Which would’ve worked if only he had told you the right dress code in the first place. A means to embarrass you? Possibly. But knowing him it’s more likely an attempt to cockblock you from anyone on your kiss list with how distinctly you stood out.
“Going to change? It’d be easier to sneak out of the penthouse in a princess costume than sexy cat woman in front of that nun of a mom” Her hand is already wrapped around your wrist ready to guide you towards the vault of clothes you call your closet when you pull her towards the stairs. “It’s fine. Sexy cat woman is a statement on me, what’s there to be embarrassed about?”
If Yeonjun wants to play this game then you’ll make sure to bite back twice as hard and fuck his best friend at his party if you needed to. Unless he’s pulled some nasty strings which you’ve come to realise he has when you enter the gates of Cheryl Manor. A couple of stares in your direction—but not judging, confusion and piqued interest more like as you scan for the red head.
His arm is swung around Daniela who matches his attempt at dressing up as Flynn Rider with a mauve minidress, a headful of tight curls slipping off his shoulder as she laughs into his chest. And who’s he to not entertain her further? Swiping a deceiving thumb down her cheek as he whispers sultrily in her ear— eyeing you down as you approach with a meek Winter struggling to catch up in her pointed heels.
Not an ounce of shame radiates from him as he slithers a hand around her waist in the middle of conversation with one of his friends, still maintaining eye contact as you shove past a group of people dealing baggies you could possibly need by the end of tonight. In one swift motion he redirects the centre of attention towards you with his obnoxious body language.
“Princess, or should I say latex hooker, what fairytale did you come from?” The grin that appears after his taunt isn’t short of haughty as he flaunts his target—already hooked to him— with pride as he leans in for a quick peck to her lips.
“Did your boyfriend show up as batman with an abs cut-out then?” You pick up a drink with your gloved fingers, the shot slightly stronger than you’d hoped as you place it back down onto the server’s tray. One mistake would be showing up to his party, another would be getting drunk there.
“Who—Beomgyu? Oh you poor thing~ He wasn’t invited, neither was anyone else on your half of the list.” You’re becoming agitated by the second with how Daniela laughs as if she knows anything about the list like she’s not one of his many targets, but you’ll let her off because she’s undeniably hot and kissable. Choi Yeonjun on the other hand isn’t, and if gathering you here at a party where none of your targets are to be seen is his method of getting a head start then you’re no guest to entertain it.
“Fine! Have it your way Choi. Your party’s fucking lame anyway.” You shoot him a glare before storming towards the exit and leaving a clueless Winter stranded in the heat of the argument. The metaphoric fire ablaze on top of your head only being fuelled further by the male’s cheers of ‘another victory to Choi’ and what not.
“I’d fuck her.”
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard it Daniela, I’d fuck her too.”
By the time you’ve left the gates you’ve already dialled Beomgyu’s number; who picked up on the first ring and is somewhere speeding on the roads to collect you. The bitter taste of falling into Yeonjun’s trap doesn’t compare to the alcohol in your system, a permanent grimace and pout written all over your face even when the Audi rolls onto the limestone carved road.
“Not enjoying the party? This is the first time you’ve voluntarily called me you know.”
“Change of heart. Couldn’t you have picked me up in something nicer?” The handle to the passenger seat creaks with age, rusting and lined with mud and grime you cringe at. “When was the last time you washed this thing—”
“Woah— I may be a Choi but I’m not one of the Chois. Respect the hustle will you…cat woman?” You strap yourself into the front seat, turning down Beomgyu’s horrible radio music because you’ve heard enough bullshit from his best friend’s mouth already to be singing along to the Beatles. And even with the windows rolled down as he starts the car to head towards the main city the tension in the air between you and your kiss list rival thickens with each thought of the peck to Daniela’s lips.
But Choi Yeonjun shouldn’t think too lowly of you. If he’s going to settle for a soft peck then you’ll settle for a heated make out session with San, in this exact costume you catch Beomgyu not so discreetly gawking at.
“Remind me of what the dress code was again? I was paid to not go.” You could bet your trust fund that he’s cross eyed right now— an eye on the road and the other on the latex shorts stretched around your thighs as he removes a hand off the steering wheel to readjust his sweats.
“Long story Beomgyu just take me to his apartment.” City skylines blur into one big mass of streetlights as he pulls into the empty driveway, way past eleven but most of the lights are on still and as you reach to unbuckle your seatbelt Beomgyu holds your hand in place.
“Any reason you’re here to see San tonight? You look like one of those fem-doms I see on twitter all the time.” Your hand breaks out of his grasp as you pat down your shorts to smooth them, the disgust on your face inevitable as your chatterbox of a driver keeps revealing his long list of kinks to you.
“You’ll find out another time, apartment 206 right? I owe you a date for today so message me later Beomgyu.” The slam to his car door is louder and faster than any words he can scramble and piece together but you don’t need an answer to know he’s nodding his head yes until it’s about to snap off. And the excited honks in sync with each heel studded step up to the entrance of the apartments only eggs you on as you hold down on the buzzer, mustering up the sweetest tone you could when the line cuts through to apartment 206.
“Hello?”
Your ears are graced by the deep and throaty rough of a man’s voice that sounds through, closer to a man like San than his roommate Wooyoung who you’d hope is at Yeonjun’s party— otherwise this little plan of yours will fall apart in shambles at Yeonjun’s very feet.
“San? It’s me,” The doorbell picks up on your desperate waving in hopes that he’ll let you in despite the situation leaving you awkwardly stood in costume unexpectedly, “ Wooyoung told me he left something in his room that he needed for Yeonjun’s party and it’s freezing outside so can you let me in?”
“Ah it’s probably his power bank, no worries come on up.”
There’s a variation of stares you receive as you navigate through narrow hallways and up fleets of stairs with a compact mirror and lipstick in hand; some gawking, some judging. Whereas San seems to freeze in shock upon opening the door, his glance bouncing off each patch of bare skin until it finally lands on your freshly-coated lips.
“Did Wooyoung get the dress code wrong—”
“—I’ll be quick! Just need to find something.” You’re welcoming yourself into the apartment, not finding the need to kick off your heels nor explain your costume predicament to someone you’re planning on kissing tonight. And San doesn’t seem to have a problem with you storming through a random drawer in his apartment for this imaginary item you’re going to have to quote on quote ‘find’ now.
It’s when you spot a pair of dumbbells that you’re able to shift the topic from finding Wooyoung’s item to something centred around the burly man in front of you. Curious hands reach to grab for the weights without realising just how heavy they actually are. “I heard you work out a lot but even in the apartmen—”
“Wait! —” A hand reaches to lift the heaviest fucking dumbbells you’ve ever held in your life from your palms, more comparable to a bench press than any of the child’s play weights you’ve been curling in your weekly Pilates workouts. San’s arm supports your waist to stop you from falling over your own measly heels.
“Careful, those are heavy…” His hand scratches the back of his head as you cough off your mistake sheepishly, trying to spin the situation in your favour as you turn to face him. “Is that how you got muscles like these?”
You run your gloved fingers up his arms to poke and stroke at his visible biceps, giggling a twee bit more exaggerated than usual while batting your eyelashes; effective in how he completely malfunctions on the spot and stutters here and there that you realise he’ll be an easy target.
After all, he doesn’t play off as hard to get when he’s fumbling over each syllable and rubbing the back of his neck, so how do you shut him up before he makes an even bigger fool of himself? Why a kiss of course!
Hands slot and find comfort around the broad of his neck, one slightly higher to cup at the chisel of his jaw as you lean in, lips ghosting over one another before he takes the initiative to lean in to your touch. Sweet strawberry stains his lips and coats them in the Chapstick under the tint, his tongue dabbling out to trace your teeth as he guides you gently towards the wall with a hand resting above your hip bone; dangerously low to the hem of your latex shorts.
He’s a damn good kisser you must admit, not rushed like any of the hormonal boys rushing to dip their hands into the panties of the campus belle. He takes his time in exploring the surface of the fat of your lips, each curve and dip as you smiled into the kiss embraced with the graze of his, large hands lowering to the small of your back before squeezing your ass lightly— causing you to moan into the kiss softly.
You detach yourself before you end up crossing the line of your mission tonight, a hand still cupped at his face before you lean in for the last time tonight to leave your kiss mark on the corner of his mouth; a small pout forming on his face when you hint you’re about to leave. A quick dig for the phone in your handbag ends up with you snapping a picture of the male trying to quietly sulk at the lack of action with your lipstick smudged all over his mouth. You tell him it’s because he looks adorable although it’s really just evidence for you to tick him off the kiss list before Yeonjun denies otherwise.
The edge of your heel is almost out of the door when you turn your head to apologise for leaving him on a half-hard note, one that you’ll revisit seeing the absolute size of him as he leans against the frame of his bedroom.
“Sorry San! Can’t be gone from the party for too long. Can you keep this a secret from Wooyoung that I came by nor did I find his item? Don’t want him to know I was busying myself with you instead of searching.” Winking in his direction seals his lips shut for good as he guides you outside of the apartment, your heels starting to feel wobbly after getting a taste of Choi San on your lips. Completely different to the smirk proudly displayed on your face as confident hands send the photo to Yeonjun, the image loading tauntingly into the chat that you reel in victory with when he chooses to leave you on read.
Fuming is what you’d expect to see on his face right now, and if he was that sore of a loser, or upset about a tie then he’d have probably sent everyone home by now. And while he doesn’t, Yeonjun who glances at your evidence of kissing your target puts on a front that he couldn’t care less— yet he catches himself in a salty mood for the rest of the night as he waivers Daniela off of him.
An ongoing party nonetheless, except without the host because the redhead’s guzzling down shots to keep him from lashing out; unsure why he’s so bothered about you competing with him in a silly challenge when this rivalry’s been a core fragment of your bond for years now. Jealous? God no, he’ll need a stronger drink to drown out that possibility. It’s merely just the rush of being tied with you in a competition he tells himself although the party starts to slowly die down when word gets around that the male’s mood isn’t improving at all.
So the city rocks in silence once more as taxis and chauffeurs flood in past the gates, the night coming to a different end for each of you as you squeal into your pillow while he locks himself into a guaranteed hangover tomorrow; preparing himself for the sea of rumours headed towards both of you once Daniela opens her mouth about what she saw on his phone tonight.
Which doesn’t take long because by the time it’s back to lectures on Monday you’ve treaded into an unwanted questionnaire about the new competition between you and the downright detestable Choi. Most of them meddling towards the storyline he was upset you kissed another guy while dating him, which you shut down instantly with a grossed expression to top it off and leave their investigations a cold case.
Yeonjun’s seemed to have kept the kiss list fairly secret as well when you approach his spot during lunch break, a begrudging smirk reluctantly lifted by his facial muscles out of self-pride but you could most definitely pick up on subtle changes to his emotions.
After years of dealing with an erratic Yeonjun you can identify faster than anyone when he’s feeling like shit, an observation you laugh at because it’s embedded into the small furrow of his brow whenever he speaks.
“Mind if I sit Soobin? I’ve got an itch to talk to your friend here today for some reason, possibly about the events of Saturday night.” Soobin shifts up the bench for you to squeeze in, a crowd of his friends dragging their ooos and aaahs immaturely when you lock eyes with the upset male.
“Liked the gift I sent you? Tick him off the list unless you want to pussy yourself out of this competition.”
“Don’t act like you’ve won over one boring kiss princess; we’re tied right now.” Yeonjun beckons Mingyu for another roll of gum, averting his eyes from your glimmering ones before he starts to feel unreasonably sour again now that you’ve kissed San.
“But surely a whole make out is ten times more impressive than a passionless peck for poor Daniela hm? Heard you made a scene pushing her off you last night, but you’ve got some loyal followers for the odds to be in your favour treating a girl like that.” You kick at his foot under the table which launches him into hissing and cursing at the sting, baring his clenched teeth in annoyance as you ruffled your hand into lovely Soobin’s hair.
“Consider yourself lucky anyone wants to kiss you, does anyone still want to bang you after that circus stunt you pulled off?” If anyone was going to ruin your moment of victory it for sure isn’t going to be Choi Yeonjun. And if he thinks your kisses are ‘circus stunts’ then he should be howling in entertainment when you harshly squeeze Soobin’s cheeks between two pinched fingers; sinking into his dimples perfectly when you guide his shy lips close towards yours to test the waters.
That short second of mutual agreement is urged by the uproar of cheers and loud commentating from Yeonjun’s circle as you indulge in a small kiss with the tall male to rile up your kiss-list competitor.
The both of you know that Soobin’s not on the list. But Yeonjun in particular struggles to hide his foul death glare he doesn’t know whether to aim at you or the hilariously flushed Soobin who suddenly word vomits incoherent words jumbled into sentences.
Spitting in his regular can of monster is the last taste of his own medicine you’ll offer him today, placing the can of dirtied liquid back in front of him which he can no longer enjoy nor fuel the stupid in his brain with.
“Tell me the wrong dress code again and I’ll make sure the next ‘party’ you’re invited to is a public castration instead fucker.” Your hand softly coos at your favourite of his friend group again before you’re on the way to Winter and Yves’ table knowing you’ve indefinitely won in some way today whether your rival admits it or not.
“Can I have that can? —”
“Fuck off, throw it in the trash Soobin.”
1—Choi Yeonjun will go all kinds of lengths to win, but you’ll go all kinds of lengths to outdo him.
2— Choi Yeonjun is unpredictable
Including his appearance at your parent’s 25 year anniversary as he swirls his own glass of champagne in a toast to your delighted father, who’s busy discussing the future of the Chois’ business to him as if he has any interest in taking over hotel chains for a living aside from the inheritance. You can already tell your father’s sent the redhead towards you for more ‘bonding time’ as he usually does despite not being able to hear the details of the conversation; the shit-eating grin on your kiss list rival’s face says it all.
“Miss me? The last time we saw each other I guess I did show off as a little weak, but until now you haven’t kissed anyone but San have you?” He sips his champagne with a topped up ego you’ve noticed with each prideful stride he had taken towards you. The event is due to end in an hour but one look into the crafty glint in his eye tells you he’s up to no good, and that’s enough to warrant you to had back upstairs to your room.
“I have priorities outside of this stupid kiss list unlike you.” Your hand guides him towards a more secluded place of the hall where you could be blessed with even the littlest moment of privacy from your mother’s preying eyes. “Woah love, if you drag me somewhere like this I might get the wrong idea.”
His hands feign innocence in the air to tease you; the same shit eating grin still plastered on his face despite the grimace seeping through your perfectly applied makeup. “You have got the wrong idea. Lower your voice when we’re discussing the kiss list will you? You know how my mother is.”
“Oh really?” Pockets ruffle with each search of his hands before he pulls out the folded kiss list and his phone— pressing down on a play button of some sort when an audio of girlish moans and shrieks blast loudly. Wet kissing noises of multiple mouths break the sound barrier with how close his phone was pressed to your ear as you shoved him away, spilling your pale drink on the silk of your dress in the process.
Panicked, you scan the room in case any of the guests happened to have heard the filthy audio as well. And while you find it easier to breathe noticing the commotion of the celebration drowned out the volume of the audio, the shock on your face is undoubtedly the best thing Yeonjun’s seen all week. Aside from the way your wet dress clings to your chest stickily, his gaze not leaving the damp of the fabric even once, that may possibly be the highlight of his month.
“Think you were all that kissing Soobin? While you were priding yourself over one valid kiss I managed to tick off an other two in one go,” you watch in shock as he unfolds the kiss list once more— Mina’s signature lip stick in his hands as he crosses her and Sakura out to join Daniela and San ridden in red.
“You didn’t. There’s no way that bitch would’ve kissed you back she hates anything to do with me! —”
“She was awfully desperate to get her hands on me when your brother’s girlfriend invited her to our snooker session, tell me princess— are you upset I kissed your ex best friend? Jealous even?”
This must be it. Choi Yeonjun trying to salvage his pride since he refuses to swallow it, trying to turn your gears by kissing Mina as a response to you kissing Soobin despite the circumstances being two polar opposites. And it works a charm for him because you’re seething with a hand ready to outlash any moment now.
Because you never cared about him kissing multiple girls at once including your ex best friend— you’ve done nastier and gave Taehyun a hickey at Yeonjun’s 19th birthday party when they had a fall out… you can still remember the death wish that had earnt you.
Though your fists clench at the replay of the audio in your head, biting down on your back teeth in anger when you envision the two men slobbering over what’s not even yours. But it’s not jealousy— you’re mature enough to understand it doesn’t matter, especially not when it comes to an idiot like Choi Yeonjun. Except you can’t blame your irritation on his smug expression. Nor can you wholeheartedly blame it on the fact he kissed two girls despite it being your counterargument for the upset and jealous allegations falling playfully from his tongue.
“I’m not jealous over you kissing Mina. I’m mad because you kissed two girls at once like some whore without telling me that was part of the rules. Playing dirty is childish Yeonjun— because I could have easily kissed Beomgyu and San at once.”
The male’s confident grin falters into an anger similar to yours for a reason he can’t verbalise at your words; crumpling the kiss list messily in his hands to shove it back into his suit pocket— as if he wanted you to be jealous, like your answer wasn’t what he was looking for.
“I’d hurry if I were you. I’ve got one target left and you’re still stuck with three.” With that he leaves you with an untouched glass of champagne still in your hands, eyes watching him merge with the large gathering as his words laid heavy on your shoulders.
It’s not the time to be overthinking every single emotion discovered and felt in that short conversation between you even if something in your dynamic has changed. He’s right to warn you that he’s dangerously close to winning and you’re not looking forward to scrubbing the floor he walks on like some lap dog for a whole year.
So you set your eyes onto the guitarist next, a challenge you’ll have to plan over exactly like San if you had any plans on catching up to a tie again.
Private practice rooms are occupied by all sorts of aspiring musicians in this department of the college. You’ve learnt to play a handful of instruments from a young age with the pestering of your parents— seen as a reason to boast and compete with other children rather than something for you to pursue. But you’ve never once walked into a practice room here on campus and hence you find yourself peeking in through the windows for a black hair male with a guitar; an almost impossible task since half the people in these rooms fit that description.
It would have been helpful if Yooyeon would’ve specified what times Jay would lock himself in these dull sound-proofed rooms, he ‘usually is there’ is far too vague for your liking if you were aiming on kissing him by today— if you can find him in the first place that is.
As you cross through into another hallway of practice rooms the riff of an electric guitar is barely audible in the mashup of leaked melodies from all the shut practice rooms combined. You take a sharp turn around the corner in your precisely styled outfit, a grey zip-up accentuated with a fur hood from some brand Yooyeon had recommended after seeing the guitarist frequent the store. An absolute power move if you wanted to be on his lips today according to her.
The guitar riff continues even as you walk up to the small room; empty and dull aside from the male too lost in the rhythm his fingers play without hesitation, like it’s second nature to him as his eyes close in concentration.
Knocking on the door slightly harsher than usual in case he couldn’t hear you over his guitar you peek through the glass panel of the door with expectant eyes. Jay was much taller than you had last seen him at one of the many dinners both your families were invited to; although to him this must be your first meeting from how he bares a confused expression upon opening the door.
“Can I help you?” His voice is husky and tired at first until he notices your familiar choice of clothing today, his voice immediately refreshing itself as he fixes his posture realising it’s from his favourite brand— or at least you hope it is judging from his reaction.
“I left something here yesterday…rosin for my violin, one of the expensive ones if you’ve seen it?” Hands clasp together with hope that he’ll let you in to the practice room for even a second to search for once again some imaginary rosin you need to find, the daunting possibility of being turned away slowly killing your confidence with each unanswered second.
“That’s strange I booked this room for the whole of yester—”
“I left it in those drawers some where I think! Also you’re really good at guitar, when did you learn to play?” The slip up in your version of events is quickly forgotten when you start searching in the drawers and try to make small talk with the male who watches you scavenge through piles of sheets and scores.
“A long time now, I started off with acoustic at first.”
Jay sits himself back on his stool with his guitar in hand and you can feel his suspicion arising when every drawer you open is just buttloads of scribbles on paper. And then and there you realise this must be a room only he practically lives in instead of some anyone can walk in room that you expected it to be.
“I must’ve got the wrong room sorry! But geez you’ve got a lot of sheet music in here; did you compose these by yourself?” The male hums in approval at your question, picking up a couple of sheets from his desk as he sets them on his stand.
“Wanna hear me play one of them?” Fell right into your hands Jay did as he picks his guitar up from the floor. You couldn’t give two shits about this mind blowing original performance you’re about to hear from him but you’ll have to play the role of acting interested in his music if you wanted him to kiss you back and not push you away in disgust for Yeonjun to laugh at later.
“Can I record the song? It’ll be nice to listen to on my way back!” Twinkling and batting your eyelashes is the easiest shortcut to these men you’ve found, and Jay’s no exception when he nods almost too excitedly as if you had asked him to headline a major gig or something.
The phone lays angled towards him instead of you as you hit the record button— the cue for him to start playing as he slides his fingers along the fingerboard, each note raw with emotion as his black hair rocks in sync with the tapping of his foot. Strings bend and vibrate under each precise and sharp pluck of his calloused fingers in a legato fashion, his strumming soulful and passionate enough to have you awestruck for a first.
Yeonjun had told you he was good at the guitar, but fuck— Jay’s more than real damn good at it, you’re still nodding your head to the rhythm of his composition moments after he ends the piece and unplugs the guitar which elicits a genuine laugh out of him.
“Thoughts on the small snippet?”
“That was insanity! No one told me we had such a talented guitarist here I’m upset now. What’s your name?” Without a word you pull out the spare seat from under the dusty keyboard in the room, seating yourself on it before he could show you out without a kiss and even more of a sore loser.
The male blushes at your compliments, a sudden bashfulness washing over him in crashing waves as his heart beat struggles to stay put with a woman in front of him, dressed in his idea of perfect taste and a shared interest in music…or so he thought. “It’s Jay.”
“Jay can you teach me to play something simple? I’ve always wanted to play the guitar.” You’re lying straight through your teeth that eventually shifts into a tight lipped smile as he places the guitar onto your lap, standing from behind you to manoeuvre your finger position as he talks you through each step of the process.
“First put your index on the first thread of the E string here, ring on the third A and pinky on the third D.” His words barely register in your head as he guides your hands down the neck, solely focusing your short-circuiting mind on the veins running down his hands and the plasters winded around his fingers; dirty images ruining your train of thought that you couldn’t help but indulge in as you bit down on your lip.
“I don’t think I’m fit for the guitar. Don’t worry about it.” Dragging the mission for too long will make it awkward to kiss if he ends up befriending you, so you cut it short and gesture him to sit on the empty stool he was sat on earlier— his legs most likely aching from standing up for so long. The disappointment on his face renders you a bit guilty but you don’t have all the time in the world to be taking a whole guitar lesson, not when Yeonjun’s got his eyes set on Bae.
“Giving up so easily? Guitar takes a lot of prac—”
“You’re really hot as a guitarist you know?” A finger twirls your hair in a lacklustre manner; flashing him a semi-forged sweet smile that strikes him weak in the knees and unsure of what to respond to your sudden outwardness. “And you’ve got really pretty lips I’m jealous seriously!” Your finger swipes at his lower lip to press down on the fat, watching as the guitarist stiffens on instinct and locks his eyes onto yours.
“You wouldn’t turn me down if I wanted a taste, would you?” To him you’re siren-like in each seductive drip to your voice as your finger drags along his angular jawline. Like some loser he stutters similarly to the staccato of his guitar, beyond red and sweaty at the palms as he shakes his head no; flushing even harder when you giggle softly and glide your thumb over his bobbing adam’s apple. “Mm, that’s what I like to see.”
Jay doesn’t know the gist of kissing exactly. He’s nervous to lean in but when he does his lips are naïve and messily try to match the movement of yours, meaning that you’d have to spread his lips apart with your thumb for him. Leaning in to take the lead of the kiss as you suck and gently bite on his upper lip, watching him squeeze his eyes shut in concentration through your half-lidded ones.
The guitarist runs his expert fingers lightly around your waist as you lean down to deepen the kiss— his soft pants not a sign for you to stop by any means, he’ll skip a much needed breath to lengthen the soft plush of your lips against his for even a second longer. The pink blush on his cheeks burning into bright red when you prod your tongue through the small gap between his teeth.
His tongue intertwines with each dip and curve of yours as you melt into the warmth of his mouth, the male’s confidence growing as he domineers with his tongue, pushing you back in the process until you stumble on your own feet. You slightly yelp into the kiss at the sudden change of position; your back flush against his hand as you sat with your knees bent on the carpeted floor, his other arm cups your face as he towers over you.
Not once does he attempt to break apart from your lips for a breather, he’s greedy for the taste of cherry wine on them and the feel of your soft skin against his palm. Fully lost in the bliss of the addictive synergy between you when he chases for another kiss that you have to push away gently in an attempt to let your lungs breathe properly.
You giggle at his eagerness and the hazy droop of his eyelids as he patiently waits for you to make up for all the air he had knocked from your lungs, a much softer edge to him than people would expect and you’d be a liar to say you didn’t find him hard to resist when he finally starts to feel shy at your cooing.
The red button is tapped again to end the video as you wave it in front of Jay, teasing him about recording the whole ordeal to which he shocks you when he asks for a copy of it— to gain experience he says, but you can tell from the score sheet slack over his jeans that that’s far from the truth.
“I accidentally got carried away I’m supposed to be meeting a friend right now for practice. But thanks for the guitar clip— and the kiss!” Because if he can lie about the boner he’s hiding then you can lie about your intentions and plans as you lazily wave him goodbye out the door. Not wasting anymore time in the practice room before you’re giddily speed-walking with your handbag slung around your shoulder and your phone in hand to trim down the multiple minute long video.
And hopefully the surprise you’re brewing for Yeonjun, who’s still yet to update you on any progress with Bae, is far more than satisfactory in the sense that he’s fuming the exact same as you were at the anniversary celebration.
Yeonjun’s minutes away from his scheduled hour at the gym when your message pings through his phone amidst thousands of others— coincidentally all from you as well. A notification from Instagram, messages, and hell you even decided to email him the same attachment; a 2 minute long video he knows will leave a bad aftertaste in his mouth yet he presses play without second thought.
You had kissed Jay in his designated practice room, and he just couldn’t let his hands off of you, could he? Yeonjun zooms in on every minute detail you yourself hadn’t even noticed; the video was too passionate, too real for his liking. It wasn’t some scummy kiss that he conjured with Mina and Sakura— you kissed him and guided him through it with a smile on your face as if he meant something deeper than just a target for some childish challenge. And you’ve never been that patient with anyone, you’ve never been patient with the redhead himself who slams his hands on the steering wheel, accidentally missing and honking in the middle of a parking lot instead.
“Fuck! —”
“—Holy shit what happened?!” An alarmed Taehyun sits up from his laying position in the backseat having rubbed his nose after his phone dropped on his face. The two of them had been parked here for a pre-workout smoke and rest when your spam of video evidence flooded in and irked something within the frustrated male who slumps in his seat.
“Asking me that is only going to make it worse, damn right you kissed her too.” The brunette in the backseat catches on immediately that he was pissed at you yet that doesn’t stop him from trying to sneak a look at Yeonjun’s phone; notification after notification of the same video he doesn’t replay, choosing to shut off his phone completely as if that would drown out his thoughts.
Is he pissed because he’s pent up? From what exactly? He’s never had any issue with sleeping around and soiling his image as one of the Chois. But since the beginning of the kiss list he hasn’t tried anything other than some kissing and mild touching, held back by something he couldn’t even comprehend and that’s the worst part of it.
Or is it because Bae’s shown no interest in kissing him at all this week. Each failed attempt of trying to take her out, and sweet talking what most girls would like to hear from his good for nothing mouth lingers in his head. As you cross off your targets one-by-one he’s stuck at a dead end with his large chance at victory slimming by the second. Although at some point he had hit clarity just like this, here in his car in some random parking lot after the anniversary celebration your parents held. He had come to terms that he was no longer upset at the idea of losing because he’d have to listen to your every word for a year, his poor mood was always inflicted by the thought of you kissing other men— and not yet him.
It was never jealousy to him. It was more than that. A thirst only you could quench and a high only you could give him; and he’s never been the type to be attached to anything, but just this once he’d like to be a bit greedier than he already is—with you.
“Bro…isn’t that the video of them kissing?” Taehyun’s hand stuck out the window snaps Yeonjun out of thought, pointed towards a billboard right outside of the gym of a short looped clip of the two of you making out to taunt him and topped with a small block of text in the corner. ‘One point to me Choi’
“Get out of the car go do your shit on your own.”
“Yeonjun what the fuck man?”
2 — Choi Yeonjun is unpredictable, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be either.
3 — Choi Yeonjun doesn’t like to play by the rules.
If you were asked how many times you have seen Beomgyu this week then you’d only be able to answer zero. Because all throughout the week the moment you caught sight of his scruffy black hair he would be dragged into the closest hallway by no other than his best friend, who’s chosen to give you the silent treatment now after all your messages.
And while him giving you some peace of mind by not being cocky twenty four seven and bragging directly into your face is a blessing in your books, it’s far more suffocating to see him act completely cold and snarky even with this whole rivalry thing going on.
By simply just guessing you assume he’s bothered about not getting any progress with Bae considering it’s been a good week and a half since he last updated you with Mina and Sakura. Whatever he’s having issues with won’t stop you from twisting the earring back of your ruby teardrops though, neither will his temporary tantrum ruin your date tonight with your target Beomgyu.
About an hour ago he called in to let you know he was there for the date already; better to arrive earlier than agreed than let him sleep through the whole date he’s been looking forwards to since forever. Considering this is his first time in a luxury suite like this, his first experience at one of the Chois’ grand hotels you happen to have exclusive access to thanks to a certain someone.
You tie the halter bikini top around your neck covered by an off shoulder shirt as you pack your folded towels and conditioner into a pleated bag, reapplying your lip gloss before leaving the penthouse for the 25 story hotel lined with exotic palm trees and sprinkler fountains decorated with stone-carved cherubs on its peaks. Yeonjun’s never had any problems with you visiting or using his privately owned hot-tub and pool steamed with essential oils imported from the middle east, so surely he wouldn’t mind you sneaking in an ecstatic Beomgyu who he cherishes so much.
Beomgyu for a start is hurriedly rushing towards you when you enter through the gold lined doors in a red robe offered by the hotel staff. Two fingers pinch at his nose to prevent any nose bleeds that could occur within the ten seconds that it takes you to unsheathe yourself of it, revealing the two piece viridian bikini that runs a size smaller than when you had lost worn it three years ago— now skin tight against your hips and chest.
“Did I keep you waiting?” You tread lightly down the steps into the steam of the heated pool, hand clutched in his as he guides you towards the railings near the deep end towards the hot tub with a head shaking no.
“N—no! It’s on me that I wanted to arrive early, I know you’re busy and all.” The poolside bar is stacked with cocktail glasses filled with Mojito and gold-flaked leaves Beomgyu had ordered beforehand, offering you one with a small blush on his face in hopes that you’ll like it which you gladly accept with an enticing smile.
Bubbles start to form at the surface of the water in the hot tub as you sit opposite to Beomgyu without breaking eye contact; your hand lightly grasping your mojito while you slick back a wet strand of hair from your face. “Nice, isn’t it? Usually I wouldn’t take you here on a first date but I have my reasons.”
The male gulps down his drink in a rush that burns at his throat as his mouth leaves the rim of the glass with a grunt as he reaches for another glass, suddenly raising a brow with a smirk trying to uncover the underlying meaning of your words as he manspreads a little wider to get comfortable. “Reasons?”
“I caught you staring in the car last time you drove me to San’s, you can stare all you’d like down here. Nothing to be ashamed of Gyu~”
Chokes and coughs spurt from his lips in shock as he places down the pricey cocktail glass hastily enough to shatter if he was unlucky, hands wavering in front of him as if that would clean him of his guilt. Eventually he calms down into a quiet sulk when he realises he can’t deny you catching him that night— and even worse, how disgustingly perverted that makes him seem for your first date together.
“Was it…that obvious?”
“Let’s leave it at you need to work on being discreet. Besides, why did you beg me to go on a date so bad? Something you wanna tell me?”
Beomgyu relaxes the tension in his muscles seeing that you weren’t angered by him by any means, running a hand through his damp hair to figure out what would flatter you the most.
“You’re really hot—”
“Anything else?”
“You’re really smart. And also really hot.” You deadpan at the straightforwardness of his answer. He doesn’t seem to think much outside of you being hot— though that’s not exactly a problem for you since you’re only here today to entertain him for a short while, for the kiss list that is.
Small talk comes naturally with Beomgyu, witty words fall from his lips before he can even register them and he’s managed to make you laugh at lest 20 times over the last 30 minutes; mainly spilling embarrassing stories about Yeonjun that he swore to keep secret. In short words, he’s funny and you can see why most people adore being in his presence so much and at the same time why he and your kiss-list rival get on so well too.
Both of you are on the verge of tipsy after two drinks, it’d be dangerous to drink yourself drunk and the alcohol on his breath you’d have to kiss if that were the case? Gross. You reach for the phone to pretend to check the time, making a quick excuse that you’ve already cut into some of your plans to stay a little longer with him to ease him up to the big kiss. Although really your hand swipes to the contact list, scrolling down to the name ‘dumbfuck’ before secretly giving him a call unbeknownst to Beomgyu.
“I’m sorry I’m so busy lately Gyu, I had a nice time, what a shame to cut it short… will you let me make it up to you?” Droplets of water drip down the soft canvas of your skin as you approach him, placing your phone on the tile behind his head before placing your hands on either side of his legs.
It’s not like you’ve never seen Beomgyu kiss before but with how his gaze is flitting between your eyes and chest to his trunks like some virgin makes you laugh, swallowing his spit animatedly to slow the butterflies in his stomach. “L-like what?”
“Like…a small kiss?” Your hand reaches to pluck the slice of lime neatly slotted on the rim of his cocktail, squeezing the juices onto your tongue before edging closer to his mouth as the liquid drips down the corner of yours when he connects your lips together. Sour sweetness pools in the saliva of your tongues as you lick along his lips again to revisit the taste of lime, humming and sucking on the dip in the middle of the plush fat for the remnants of mint from the mojito. He lazily kisses along your upper lip, moaning into the kiss when you straddle him and slide your hands along his bare chest, tilting your head to the side to welcome him deeper into your mouth.
The male pulls away from the kiss to whisper against your lips, too quiet to be heard over the fountains of dripping water but audible enough for Choi Yeonjun to listen in one. “You’re so beautiful in this bikini...” His eyes don’t break contact and neither does his forehead pressed against yours; hot breath steaming your faces as you panted in the small space between you before eventually pulling away for good.
“I’ll see you later, yeah? —”
“—What the fuck are you two doing?”
The breakthrough of Yeonjun’s voice sounds through your speaker. You’re surprised to hear that he stuck through the whole of the call and listened in whereas Beomgyu had thought someone entered the private room on accident, horror distressed in every strain of his widened eyes as he scans the heated pool.
Immediately you’re off his lap and reaching for your robe, tying it around as you hang up the phone spouting all sorts of angry questions from the redhead. “Oops! I must’ve slipped my hand contacting my driver! I really have to go now if I want to dry my hair— message me if you can’t drive back, I’ll book you a hotel room!”
Tonight your parents are supposed to be out of town preparing for a business trip overseas meaning that you have the entire penthouse to yourself. Unless Mingi got kicked out from his girlfriend’s place and happened to have moved back in with the rest of your family, which you doubt because she had just posted a story of them out for dinner.
Confusion riddles you further when you’re stopped in your tracks from kicking off your heels by an unfamiliar pair of shoes larger than the usual quirky trainers Mingi likes to wear. And guests without your parents’ prior notice are close to none, the maids would never let anyone unwarranted into the penthouse.
The walk through the complex is swarmed in a menacing quiet that unsettles you, each empty lounge soothing your heightened nerves that the shoes were coincidentally left at the doorstep on accident by your father and his large collection.
“Holy shit! What are you doing here?!” One turn into the lounge compact with the artificial fireplace reveals Yeonjun with his legs spread open and a head hung low— his expression unreadable but no doubt the most pissed you’ve ever seen him when usually his high ego cushions his anger. You tread lightly around the L-shaped couch to stand in front of him with your arms crossed, unamused that he’s trying to prolong the silent treatment again despite your stomach flipping in on itself seeing that he rushed over to the penthouse upon listening in on you and his best friend.
“Stop the kiss list.”
“What?” Your eyes flicker to search for any sincerity in his low gaze covered by the mess of his unbrushed red hair— he was in a hurry and didn’t even have time to care for his appearance, a new low for flashy Choi Yeonjun.
“As of right now this kiss list is no more. I’ll take the punishment so don’t kiss Minho—”
“Are you insane? This whole thing was your idea and now you of all people are giving up? Did something go wrong with Bae?…are you—jealous?”
“Exactly. I’m jealous you’re kissing other guys is that criminal?” Your jaw hangs speechless as you idly stand in front of him. His question is wrapped under a blanket of emotions you couldn’t distinguish; radiating both restricted anger and indescribable tension that could pass of as borderline lust with how he strips you of your clothes with his gaze alone.
“W-we’re not even dating— this is childish Yeonjun are you hearing yourself?”
“Don’t lie to me and say you weren’t jealous when I kissed Mina. If I played that audio again you’d be losing your fucking mind and we both know it— we just can’t put it into words.” This time you don’t want to argue with him, tired really of the silent treatment and full blown arguments than the usual pestering and bickering you’re used to. But also because you can’t argue with the truth you’ve been sucking in between shut teeth and blurring as simple ‘competitiveness.’ Because real rivals would be jealous over who kissed more people, not over each other kissing others.
“Fine, we’re both jealous. What does that matter to you?” You bite down on your lip hesitantly as he lifts up his head to press his back against the backrest of the cashmere couch, letting out a shriek when he suddenly holds you by the wrist to drag you into the small space between his spread legs. His breath is staggered and shaky as he leans his into your ear, mouth dangerously close as he fans each syllable with heated agitation.
“Tell me you want it.” His hand restrains your wrists to his sides making it difficult for you to escape his grip if you needed to, except you find yourself following his direction— your own built up jealousy transforming into taunts to see how far Choi Yeonjun would go. To see how long he’ll last beating around this bush that you’re ‘rivals’ who happen to hate each other’s guts and not an egoistic pair desperate to fuck.
“Want what—to kiss Minho? Going to stop me?” You pull back from his breath fanning in your ear to straddle him properly, nestling down on top of his crotch that rips a throaty grunt out of him as his hands fly towards the dip of your hips to keep them still. The maids are nowhere to be seen in the penthouse, probably an order from Yeonjun seeing that the only noises you can pick up on are the rustling of clothes and the heavy breathing shared between the both of you as he prepares to open his mouth again.
“Tell me you want me to fucking ruin you for everyone else. Tell me you’ll take my dick instead of running that loud mouth of yours.”
“Can you really fuck me that good Choi? I’ll let you try and ruin me, so are you going to put it to the test?”
His lips are zealous to chase after yours, no time to breathe between the end of your sentence and the interlock of the kiss as he roams his hands around your waist. He slides a warm hand under your shirt to roll his fingers over as he licks over your teeth before dragging his tongue back down your lips; needy and messy as he marks each crevice and curve of them to make up for the soiled kisses from your targets in the long forgotten kiss list.
The male’s quick to break away while you try to lean in for seconds, a hand slithering down from your waist to your back as he grips the flesh of your ass clad in tiny shorts that ride up with each fondle from his palm; moans loud and unrestrained as you grab onto his shoulders for support.
“One for Choi San.”
Yeonjun leans back in for your lips again, moving his in sync with every purse of yours perfectly like they were born to be connected through mutual lust as he bites down on the edge of your bottom lip, harsh enough to draw blood if he wanted. Nimble fingers glide up the smooth curve of your thighs as they tug on your shorts, wasting no time in ripping them off of you as he pushes in further to the kiss— tongue flat against yours before exploring the roof of your mouth only to drag himself away once again.
“One for Park Jongseong.”
The male switches from diving into the sultry heat of your mouth to peppering kisses along your jawline, licking over your lobe before dipping his head below to work down on your neck. At the same time he pulls down your set of black panties until they dropped and hooked around one of your ankles, strong hands lifting up your hips from the crotch of his sweatpants as he runs a finger down the slit of your dripping pussy— sticky fluid linked by thin strings coated all over his digits as you arch your back at the sensation.
He doesn’t hold back on biting down onto the soft and vulnerable skin, sharp stinging pain running through your blood as your clenched over each contact his index made with your clit, the hickeys on your neck only starting to form as he kisses over each creation. Drool pools down from his tongue and down your neck as he sloppily licks and kisses over each mark, his hands starting to merge into possessive territory when he slips two thick fingers inside of you at once.
“Mmh—fuck! Yeonjun take it slow—”
“And one for Choi Beomgyu,” His head dips to catch sight of how his fingers pummel into you, each pump leaving them more slicked than the last as you jolt at each press of his finger pads against the walls of your sopping cunt, “Such a slut letting him see you in one of those tight bikinis you own. Did that fucker do anything other than kiss you? Did he fuck you like I am right now?”
The pace of his fingers picks up speed out of spite as he imagines the hands of his best friend tainting what’s his. It sickens him to even think about what happened in that heated pool out of his sight. If Beomgyu really had his way with you then Yeonjun doesn’t think he can hold back from moulding your tight cunt to fit only his cock with the piston of his fingers forever.
“N-no! I wouldn’t think of it!” His fingers don’t halt their relentless pumping even if you tell him the truth, the impending orgasm creeping up on every hair of your body as you squirmed under his touch. The lewd scene of your pussy swallowing every inch of his fingers making your head spin as you leaned your head on his shoulder, the thrusting motion of his arm causing you to bob around as your moans continued to echo off each of the trophy and certificate filled walls and shelves of the lounge. “Hngh! Yeonjun don’t stop ‘m close!”
Uncontrollably you start to clench and grip around his fingers in an attempt to chase your orgasm— until you’re clenching around nothing but thin air, your eyes shooting back open in surprise as you whine at the loss of contact.
“W-wha…I was about to cum you jerk!”
“Don’t think you’ve earned it yet; you want me to show you how good of a fuck I can be? I’ll make you cum so hard on my dick and stretch you out so fucking good you won’t be able to run to any of those men you kissed— hell you won’t be able to run to anyone but me.”
You can’t tell if you’re whimpering over the lost orgasm or his dirty words that he says vulgarly with whole hearted adamance, his hands having completely left your skin while you paw at him for even a slither of touch. His grin only widens when he sees how helpless you look sat on top of him with near tears in your eyes. You can barely let out a couple of cusses towards him before your orgasm starts to slip away back into untreated need, not enjoying how the male happens to have control when you’re the supposed winner of the kiss list.
So you instinctively lift up his tight fitted shirt to reveal the rigid muscle lining down the centre of his abdomen, and also the double sided bulb of the piercings through both of his nipples. You had heard humours that he had them pierced but never asked for nor saw any concrete evidence of them until now, licking over you lips as you shift your focus onto Yeonjun who bites down on his.
“So you really got them pierced…”
“Yeah. Don’t like them?” His head cocks to the side in a questioning manner but quickly shoots back into place when you tease around the sensitive mound, dragging your tongue over the bud to taste the cold metal as you moan around it. Your hand reach to pinch at the other perked nipple as you roll the bud between your fingers, his head swings back in pleasure as his thighs flex beneath you in an attempt to restrain his own squirms.
“W-wait fuck, they’re sensitive still don’t ack! be gentle with them—” Your swirl your tongue teasingly around the piercing before gently biting and tugging at the skin around his nipple, watching him lurch and stammer over whatever cocky words he was about to retaliate with amusedly.
You continue to suck around the soft flesh as you pull down his sweats and boxers in one go. A glob of precum stretches from his damp underwear to his tip before snapping when his cock flings straight against his stomach; hard and flushed red in a complementary shade to his bold hair.
“I don’t need you to fuck me good— I can ride you until both of us are spasming, Choi”
The male seems to enjoy your taunts with how his cock twitches excitedly in your hand, a couple of lazy pumps lubed with your spit as you line him up to your entrance. When you first sink down the whole of his tip you’re already trembling at the stretch, you had thought you’d be able to take on a challenge dealing with his size but the struggle catches your breath as you attempt to adjust yourself to him.
Yeonjun’s no different as he pokes his tongue at the inside of his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut while he relishes in the tight fit of your pussy as it squelches erotically with each inch of him that you envelop.
“S-shit baby, think you can handle me? Aren’t you getting too confident now? Or what— did San teach you how to take cock?” The male is shut up by the soft plush of your lips against his once more as you start to ride him slowly, the stretch becoming easier to bear as your juices drip down your thighs and onto the cashmere you so deeply protected from his shoes a couple weeks prior.
“Keep quiet and let me take the lead.” The lift of your hips is subsequently followed by the slam of them as you steady yourself on his shoulders again, the prod of his tip bulging through every drag of the lining of your walls. His own hips bucking upwards to meet yours half way as he groans your name; abs flexing when you squeeze his cheeks in your hand to pry his mouth open, spit landing on his outstretched tongue and drooling down the side in the process.
The redhead swallows it without a problem— even going as far as to tug on your waist for more until he finds the urge to retrace the hickeys painted all over your collarbone and neck. Soft purples and reds that burn under his hot breath, a means of marking what belongs to him and him only as he reaches up for your breasts to grope them in the comfort of his palm.
You alternate between rocking your hips and bouncing on top of his cock which all nonetheless ends up with you whining in harmony with his obscenely loud moans that would drive your mother up the wall if she had heard them from outside the penthouse door. He’s deliciously thick inside of your cunt that clenches with each dragging moan from the pretty pout of his lips as he slowly melts further into your touch; satiating the need for him you’ve been hiding since you started straying from your parents’ warnings. Since you started lusting for him silently each time he’d poke fun at you for when your skirt was far too short for your mother’s liking, and when he’d randomly show up to your home shirtless with your brother’s arm around his shoulder after basketball practice.
“Fuck, this whole time you’ve been walking around me with such a tight pussy like this. Should’ve fucked you earlier to knock some real sense into you before you started slutting yourself out to those men.”
Yeonjun starts to nestle his hips closer to yours when he notices you tremble and shake when he brushes his hand teasingly down to your clit you swat his hand away from. “I-I can handle it myself Jun…ngh!”
The long awaited orgasm approaches you slowly as you tangle your fingers and clasp onto his red hair, squeezing your eyes shut when your stomach starts to tighten with want.
“Shit! S’ good fucking love your cock mmh!” The final push is his thumb pressing down on your clit again that triggers the release of your pulsing cunt as you shake from the intensity of the pleasure that washes over you. Your body falling limp but having enough energy to carry yourself off of him— a confused Yeonjun tilting his head because he hasn’t cum yet, but he was real close with how his cock twitches at the cold breeze of air conditioning that hits him instead of the warmth embrace of your hole.
“Princess are you going to leave me hanging?” At the end of the sentence his voice lifts into somewhat of a whine as he bucks his hips into thin air. Confused and bothered he’s quick to tug on your arm to beg to dive right back into your pussy he’s fallen in love with today. And you’re aware he’s spent all of his energy trying to please you while he’s been begging for release for ages— but you want payback from earlier, a little challenge for Choi Yeonjun to bear for the next couple of minutes.
“You’re forgetting that you kissed Mina Myoi too. I don’t think you deserve to cum so soon either Choi.” Shock embeds itself on his face as he raises his brows with chilled laughter falling from his lips that quickly shifts into a loud hiss when you press your thumb against the slit of his tip.
You twist and tug at the bulbous head repeatedly as it twitches excitedly in your hand, whines cascading from his lips like a memorised prayer when you trickle your fingers lightly down the base of his cock; feathery and teasing.
“T-that’s it baby keep doing that— I-I’m really close.” Though when you pick up on how his entire body tenses from his shoulders to his thighs you retract your hand with a gleeful laugh as his face immediately drops and his teeth unclench in disappointment. The cutest pout forming on his lips that you’d usually despise when you see him open his mouth; he’s much prettier quiet and desperate, powerless at your fingertips.
“Not so soon Yeonjun, I won the kiss list. That means I get to choose when you cum.”
After multiple rounds of teasing his throbbing dick and eliciting the softest mewls and moans from his mouth by a couple flicks to his sensitive nipples decorated with steel piercings. And you’ve got him in the exact state you wanted— a watered down version of the cocky Yeonjun who now slumps against the couch with a permanent pout on his face as his dick leaks with need for release.
“Do you think you deserve to cum now Choi? You look so helpless right now I can’t not feel bad~” The male looks up at you pitifully before nodding yes, his hands already reaching to tie around your waist.
“I lost the kiss list so please— let me cum inside of you baby that’s all I’m asking for.” And when he gives into you so easily with a mind entirely clouded with his pleading dick you just have to pity him as you sheathe yourself back inside.
The moment he gets a feel of bliss once more Yeonjun doesn’t hold back in spilling milky ropes of his cum inside of you; a thick load from how long you’ve been holding back his release as he groans into your shoulder; a series of babble that leaves his mouth mindlessly as he fills you up.
“Fuckkk…no one…else gets to fill you up like this. Pretty pussy not for Beomgyu or Jay, only for me right? From now on only I get fuck you, I know what feels best for you baby, god…look at the way my cum’s spilling out of you— don’t want it to go to waste do we?”
“Cut the talk once you’re done fucking your cum back inside of me, I want a talk with you later Yeonjun.”
3 — Choi Yeonjun doesn’t like to play by the rules, but you can tame him pretty easily.
The doorbell rings multiple times with impatience as you fasten the strap of your heel before opening the door to a bashful Yeonjun— despite the cockiness still visible in his pristine outfit. A bouquet of roses neatly arranged by professionals and void of any blemishes or variegated leaves are proposed in front of you as he coughs nervously; he’s must’ve never gone all out for a woman before on a date, but with you he’ll learn to.
“You said the loser does whatever right?”
“Yeah, guess I did.” Yeonjun groans at the recall of you asking him to help sort out your mess of a closet last week, pinching at his temples already as he prepares to fold your laundry or something along those lines. But he’s pleasantly proven wrong when you tilt his chin up lightly with your freshly done nails and welcome him with a sweet smile instead of a grimace this time.
“Kiss me then, and not for some stupid competition this time.”
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