Spoilers for major plot points of Resident Evil Requiem
[RE9!Leon / CIA Agent!Wife!Reader]
(You’re waiting for the call that will make you a widow. And then the front door opens.)
Word Count: ~ 4.7k
Rating: E - a lot of hurt, a lot of comfort, some very emotional smut in between
Author's Note: So this is me coping and my version of this scene we all apparently need. Love all the different takes I've seen so far, and all aimed to just give Leon the peace he deserves. I sat with a lot of unpeaceful feelings for quite a few days and am a little embarassed actually that this game had such a big impact on me. I really got emotional damage from this, from Leon's whole arc (no pun intended), from going through Raccoon City, from effing Victor Gideon writing that damn note what the helly...all the way to where we now stand. Writing it down and talking to some people helped a lot though 🥰 I don't know why but I see Leon being married to another Agent, it crystallized for me over time. Glad we can cope together. All the love, Milli 💕
Somewhere in that dim space between sleep and consciousness, your mind betrayed you.
It tormented you with the single worst nightmare your brain could conjure – showing you distorted faces of strangers, a revolver, blood. He was on his knees, holding himself upright for as long as he could, because he wouldn’t give up until the very last second. But what your mind wanted to show you was that last second.
You knew it was a dream. You fought against it with everything you had, trying to claw your way back to reality – the one where you had forced yourself to stay awake for over 24 hours, nerves strung tight like wire, your eyes glued to your laptop, searching for an answer.
Exhaustion had overtaken you. And the moment your eyes closed, something slipped in that your waking mind would never allow: hopelessness.
You were half there, half here. The presence of the computer mouse in your hand clashed violently with the horrific image behind your closed eyelids. The way he coughed up blood, the black markings now everywhere – his hands, his arms, his face.
It was as if he was looking at you one last time. When he spoke, no sound left his lips – but you knew the movement better than anyone. Three words, unmistakable:
“I love you.”
A gunshot – your scream made real. It tore from your throat and jolted your body upright. You looked around wildly, half-expecting it all to have been nothing but a nightmare, that your husband would rush into the room and ask what had happened.
It didn’t take long to realize that being awake wasn’t any better than the torment of sleep. The real world was hardly kinder. Your dry throat ached as you swallowed, your racing heart refused to slow, just like the panic twisting in your stomach.
Your laptop still sat open in the darkness of the ongoing night. Your desk was covered in stacks of folders – more or less illegally obtained and printed documents – and a long list of numbers. People who still owed you a favor or two.
Despite your position at the CIA, despite digging deep into the servers, despite giving Sherry every bit of access she needed – no matter the consequences – you had hit nothing but dead ends. And now you hadn’t heard from Sherry in far too long.
You expected the call any second. The one telling you that you were a widow. Those calls always came no matter what time it was.
If only you had gone with him. You were just as trained. Just as resourceful. Just on a different side of the government.
But he hadn’t allowed it. Said he wouldn’t be able to focus if he had to worry about you.
Not that you weren’t used to it. Not that you didn’t know the dangers. You had always lived with the risks of the job.
But this time was different.
This time, Leon wasn’t fighting something – not the next bioweapon.
He was fighting time.
By the time Sherry had given you the update about the Raccoon City Syndrome – ridiculous name – Leon had already been too far away. You never would’ve caught up to him. And Sherry had convinced you, far too skillfully, that the two of you could help him best by continuing to search for answers.
Rarely had you ever felt this helpless. If Leon died, you would die. You might both be trained agents, but when all was said and done, you were just two people. And you couldn’t live with the knowledge that you hadn’t saved your husband. You couldn’t carry the same burden he had all these years. You weren’t that strong. Not like him.
You were just about to reach for your phone – to call Sherry again, or try Chris, or Rebecca, anyone who might know something – when a familiar sound ripped your body out of the desk chair before your mind could even process it.
The apartment door.
You stumbled forward, bracing your hands against the doorframe, forcing yourself upright through a dizzy spell. Your vision was still blurred as you stared into the hallway.
With sheer willpower, you waited for your sight to steady – until you could finally focus on the figure standing down the hall.
A heavy breath left you.
He stood there. Holding a damn bouquet of flowers.
The contrast was almost absurd. The bouquet was full of bright, untouched blossoms – and he looked like he’d been dragged through hell. His clothes were dirty, his face covered in cuts – yet there was a careful smile on his lips.
One heartbeat passed.
“Hey honey… I’m home.”
There was hesitation in his voice, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay for him to be here.
“Oh my god,” you breathed, the last bit of air leaving your lungs.
You pushed off and crossed the distance between you as fast as you could.
Leon knew.
As you ran toward him, his shoulders dropped, his gaze melting into something soft – devotion, exhaustion – and he opened his arms just as you reached for him.
The paper around the bouquet crinkled as your bodies collided. His arms were strong, just like you remembered, wrapping tightly around you. He pulled you in with force, his large frame folding into yours, his forehead resting against your shoulder.
Standing on your toes, you pressed yourself into him, clinging to his familiar, broad shoulders, reveling in the fact that he was here – that he was breathing, that you could feel him.
“What happened?” you asked, trying to pull back, but he only held on tighter, didn’t answer.
“Leon,” you insisted, loosening your grip from around his neck and pressing against his upper arms.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your shoulder, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss there.
“Why are you sorry?” you asked quietly, giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze.
“You’re shaking.”
With his request that you stay behind – that you help Sherry search for a cure instead of going into the field with him – he had asked everything of you. He knew that. He could never tell you how close he had come to shaking hands with death. Never tell you how many times he had thought of you, how many times he feared he wouldn’t be able to make it right.
Only the thought that you were safe from the most dangerous virus in the world had kept him going. And in the end, even that reason would have been futile.
Leon could never tell you that this time, he hadn’t even been able to save himself.
“It’s okay.” You pressed gently against his arms again, and this time, Leon let you push him back.
Your gazes locked as your hands traced the contours of his arms, all the way down to where his hands now rested on your hips.
No gloves. His skin was smooth. You felt his wedding band beneath your fingers.
Your eyes flicked to his neck – to the spot that had already been blackened when he left.
No black marks. No Raccoon City Syndrome.
Relief flooded your entire system.
You guided his hands forward, took the bouquet from him, and set it down on the counter beside you. His palms were warm in yours – no trace left of the illness that had been consuming him, the reason he had to leave, the reason everything in you had been so certain there would be no way out this time.
“What happened?” you asked again, finding his eyes “The last thing I heard from Sherry was that you found ARK.” Your hand rose to his cheek, fingers slipping into his hair, your thumb tracing along his jaw – anything to make sure he was really here. “What happened down there, Leon?”
Leon caught your wandering hand, never once breaking eye contact – not even as he pressed a kiss into your palm.
Waiting for answers was becoming unbearable. You had to suppress the urge to shake him, while he simply looked down at you with so much love in his eyes that your chest tightened.
How close had you really come to losing him?
“A lot,” he finally said. “I’ll tell you everything… under the shower? Look – I got blood and dirt all over you.”
His hand brushed over your neck, trying to wipe away the mixture of blood and grime from your skin. Sherry hadn’t been able to reach you, your phone probably dead from not being charged as you somehow managed to forget regularly – so Leon hadn’t wasted a second.
He had come straight home.
Straight back to you.
“Yeah… okay,” you agreed quickly. You just wanted to feel him – to wash away what had happened to him, to wash away Raccoon City.
Even if that would never truly be possible… you would try. Again and again.
Leon let out a quiet, satisfied sigh as warm water cascaded over his head. He ran a hand through his hair, then over his face. Dirty streams trailed down his solid frame.
With careful fingertips, you traced the numerous cuts and bruises. Aside from the usual injuries after an intense mission, he looked… good.
Not just good – he carried himself differently. Straighter. Lighter, somehow.
“Elpis wasn’t a virus,” Leon began without preamble. “Pass me the shampoo?”
You reached behind you to the shelf, opened the shampoo – the one you had insisted your husband use instead of his beloved 5-in-1 shampoo, shower gel, industrial filler – and poured some into your hands.
“So it was a cure?”
Leon’s gaze dropped to you, soft, yielding – taking in the way the water beaded over your hair, the shine in your eyes as you lifted your arms and let your fingers slide into his.
“Yeah,” he confirmed your, quite obvious, conclusion. If Elpis wasn’t a virus, not a bioweapon, then it had to be a cure. “Actually… a cure for everything. Every virus out there.”
Leon closed his eyes, savoring the gentle pressure of your fingers against his scalp. Another low, content sound rumbled from his chest. His large hands found your body, gliding over your soft, wet skin.
God, it felt good to touch you. To know he had time again – time with you.
“Well, thank god.” You exhaled deeply, not even willing to begin unpacking what a universal antiviral would mean for the world. The only thing that mattered was that it had saved your husband. “How did you find out?”
Your hands slipped from his hair, down along his neck, over his shoulders, his arms, flattening against his strong chest – a silent cue for him to rinse.
The foam washed away everything on the surface. Dirt loosened from his hair, from his skin – but like always, so much remained. This time, even with Elpis offering a chance to make things right… the memories of Raccoon City clung stubbornly.
“I didn’t,” Leon said, tipping his head back into the stream of water. “It was Grace.”
“Grace?” you echoed, surprised for only a second before collecting yourself. Anyone in this line of work knew how quickly people could be pushed beyond their limits.
The FBI girl had saved your husband.
You gave a tired smile. “Guess I’ll have to write her a thank-you note, then.”
You swallowed the small pang of regret – that it hadn’t been you. You couldn’t have done what Grace did. Couldn’t have set the same chain of events into motion.
Leon chuckled softly.
“Come here,” he murmured, opening his arms, inviting you in.
You melted into him, skin against skin beneath the steady rain of the shower. The water drummed gently against your head, and a quiet calm settled in – until you felt the crushing exhaustion of the past day begin to catch up with you, adrenaline slowly draining away.
“Tell me what happened down there,” you mumbled anyway, your ear pressed to his chest, eyes closed, listening for his heartbeat.
“Mhm,” he hummed, his hands moving up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes. “Okay… but don’t get mad.”
You smiled faintly. “Try me.”
Leon couldn’t really refuse you, not when you asked like that. The least he could do was soften the edges. Leave out some amounts of blood he’d coughed up, the brief blackout in the dump – anything that might reveal just how close he had come to dying.
But it was enough.
Cold fear crept back into your body as he spoke. You knew your husband. He hid the worst of it behind cheeky remarks and bad jokes. He couldn’t fool you.
He had almost died.
And worse – he had been forced to relive it all. Raccoon City. The R.P.D., files you knew, too. You didn’t press him about what it had felt like, not directly – but your heart cracked when he made a passing remark about the West Office, the “WELCOME LEON” banner, and Gideon’s note beside it. Just a throwaway comment, but you heard it.
“Jesus. If that asshole wasn’t already dead, I’d go and shoot him myself,” you muttered.
You were lying in bed now, facing each other, having done little more than dry off before collapsing naked into the familiar sheets, shutting the world out.
Leon let out a quiet laugh. “I bet you would, baby.”
You studied his face closely. The face you knew like the back of your hand, and yet… different. Softer, somehow. Some of the lines smoothed out, the blue of his eyes deeper again, his complexion healthier.
Strange, how used you had become to a sick version of your husband.
Strange, how much the virus had actually taken from him over the years.
It was unbearable to think about.
“You look good,” you whispered.
Your wedding ring caught a soft ray of the rising sun as you lifted your hand to brush a strand of hair from his face, the light slipping through a narrow gap in the heavy curtains of your bedroom, drawn tight to keep the outside from ever touching him again.
“Feel good.”
Gentle fingers traced along your upper arm, your bodies completely wrapped in the weight of the warm, fluffy blanket. Heat spread around you and between you. Now that he lay beside you – alive, breathing, and for the foreseeable future – you finally began to settle again. Not least because of his way of taking everything so lightly. It rubbed off on you, whether you wanted it to or not. His content expression rested slightly crumpled against his bent, strong bicep, affection in his eyes as you continued to touch each other softly.
With the calm, however, came concern, and you found yourself worrying more about his mental state than his physical one.
“I’m sorry.” Your voice stayed quiet, as if you didn’t want the world to hear words meant only for him in this moment.
His gaze grew a little more serious, but the soothing movement of his fingers on your skin didn’t stop.
“That you had to go back there,” you finished your thought. “I hate it. Even if it – right there –” you could hardly grasp it yourself, that the last piece of Raccoon City inside him could only be destroyed in Raccoon City itself, “ – even if there was no other way. Just the thought of it is torture to me. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there with you.”
Your heart felt heavy. There were so many questions on the tip of your tongue – questions that could potentially break you. First, you needed to calm down, to process Leon’s return, his healing. Then, maybe then, you could confront him with them.
A warm, living hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin.
“It’s okay. I’m actually glad you weren’t there for it. It was ugly.”
“I can handle ugly,” you replied quickly.
“I know.” His face moved closer. “But I couldn’t have handled watching you suffer for me.”
You sighed. You understood. You really did. But you wished so much you had been at his side. Even with Grace, so you could have helped them both.
“I love you.” His hand slipped into your damp hair, resting at the back of your neck.
You let yourself be drawn in by the gentle pressure and his even gentler eyes, giving in as you closed the last distance between you.
His lips were as soft as ever as they met yours with a reverence you could only describe as worshipful. Feeling him again, after those endless hours of fear, was like breaking the surface for air – though with every movement of his mouth against yours, he stole more and more of that breath away.
His large body, which had lingered at a loving distance just to take you in, shifted closer until warm skin met yours – and it felt more like coming home than walking through that door ever could have. And suddenly, it was impossible for Leon to imagine a reality where he didn’t return to you. As always, after he had nearly lost his life.
But this time, something was different. This time, he had been healed of something that had plagued him all along, without him even knowing it, until it had almost been too late. The last piece of Raccoon City had been purged from his body. The memories remained, but the past no longer possessed him. Not in the way that made him chase something unreachable.
He felt you in an entirely new way – his beautiful, strong wife, who knew everything about him and had chosen to marry him anyway. Who gave him safety in a world where nothing was safe. His anchor – no, his harbor – where he could simply… be. No expectations. No hero. No agent. Just a husband who wanted to make his wife happy.
He would make it up to you.
His hand moved to the curve of your neck, gently tipping your head back. You followed, opening yourself to him, your arm draped over his solid body. Leon murmured softly against you – the kiss deepened, more sensual now, just a touch hungry. Skin brushed against skin, fanning slow-burning flames within both of you – that ever-present fire that would never go out.
It grew hotter, warming everything you were, until a burning longing rushed through your veins – the need to be close, to feel each other in the way only you could.
Leon’s hand wandered down from your neck, tracing slow, indulgent paths over your soft skin, never breaking your connection, only deepening it.
Those exploring touches tingled along your nerve endings, goosebumps rising wherever his fingers passed.
You drew in a breath at the growing pull in your belly, the soft throb at your core, anticipating Leon’s touch.
“Leon…” you breathed against his lips, making him real – well, more real.
“You are everything, you know,” he murmured back, his breath mingling with yours.
Your palm rested flat against his chest, feeling his heart pounding wildly – for you, for both of you.
“I love you,” you said, and for some inexplicable reason your heart tightened just before a quiet moan slipped from your lips against his, as his hand moved between your thighs.
Almost automatically, you rolled onto your back, opening yourself to him, giving him better access to the place he knew so well. His lips brushed your cheek, your jawline, your neck, while his skilled touch drew slow circles over your clit that made your breath hitch. He moved his fingers further down, slid first one, then two fingers into you, pushed deep, finding the spot inside you he knew you liked best.
He watched your reactions, noticing them more clearly than ever – the way your lips parted slightly, your eyelids fluttered closed to savor it, then opened again to meet his gaze. The small, adorable sounds that escaped you. He would listen to them until he died of old age, and not a second sooner.
“Turn around, baby,” he instructed gently, his voice deep and comforting.
You followed again, letting his presence guide you as you rolled onto your side, him settling behind you. With one smooth movement he freed your upper bodies from the blanket before his hand trailed down your form, over your thigh. He grasped it gently, lifting your leg as far as the covers allowed.
The air around you buzzed – not with reckless hunger, but with intimacy, with trust. That was what made you arch toward him.
Leon reached for his cock, already aching for you, searching for you, and aligned himself carefully. He pressed forward slowly, easing into you inch by deliberate inch, savoring every bit until he was fully buried inside you and a soft sound hummed from your throat.
He stretched out one arm to cradle your head, offering you the best pillow in the world, and drew you close with the other. His large, warm body wrapped around you like a living blanket – except the first slow thrust stole the air from your lungs before you pulled it back in again.
Leon groaned into the curve of your neck, pressing a kiss into your hair as he held you as close as possible and moved inside you again, and again. He knew your body so well it didn’t take much to send you both drifting toward that shared state of bliss.
His movements were deliberate, deep, almost reverent, aimed not just at pleasure, but at closeness, at dissolving into one another. Low, satisfied sounds rumbled in his chest whenever your velvet walls tightened around him.
They traveled straight to your ear, and you answered with eager sighs of your own.
More than anything, it was comforting to be here like this again – feeling whole, unified – while he whispered into your ear. Not just sweet nothings, but promises. Declarations of love. Vows that he would remain at your side.
“You saved me. You did, and you always will.”
The words rushed through you, and a choked sound escaped your lips. It overwhelmed you. The intensity of it. You had been intense like that before – but today something in Leon had shifted.
“Only because you saved me first,” you answered softly, affectionately, reaching back to take his hand.
Leon exhaled sharply.
Your fingers intertwined, skin sliding against skin as his rhythm faltered slightly. He tried to hold onto it, to keep taking you slowly, deeply – but your words had struck something possessive and tender inside him.
“Fuck,” he breathed hoarsely. “I married the perfect woman.”
He moved through you with what restraint he had left, drawing higher sounds from you, a soft whimper. His exhausted body began to betray him, chasing that place where you would both end up spent and tangled together. His hand found your hip, pulling you back against him.
You clung to the arm beneath your head, moaning quietly, not searching for the perfect climax, but for him. More of him. All of him.
“I’m gonna come,” he breathed against your ear.
A soft exhale left you. “Yes,” you whispered your consent.
His fingers tightened against your skin as a shudder seized him, running down his spine and through his entire body. His breathing turned ragged as he spilled inside you, giving everything his tired body had to offer, knowing it wasn't enough, but with all the will in the world to show you that you belonged to him, and he to you. As long as he could, he drew out the moment, letting the wave slowly subside with increasingly smaller, fading thrusts, until a deep sense of peace settled over.
“You okay?” he asked breathlessly, still inside you, his eyes searching for your face.
The aftershock of everything – the unbearable search for a cure; the fear; the relief that he was alive; the closeness you had thought, at times, you had lost forever – cracked your composure wide open. Where adrenaline had carried you before, your soul now lay completely exposed, stripped bare in front of Leon and everything he was.
The moment the question left his lips, tears flooded your eyes, unstoppable. For a second you tried to hold them back, but it quickly became clear it was useless. They blurred your vision, stealing your view of your fingers intertwined with his.
Your chest tightened, your heart aching. You squeezed Leon’s hand, searching for something to hold onto. A sob broke free.
“Hey, heyhey – ” Leon pressed himself closer, hoping you could feel his steady breathing against your neck, the kiss on your shoulder – that he was here, that he was holding you, that he wasn’t going anywhere.
Even as his own heart grew heavy, as he felt more helpless than he had in any moment of his infection. He had almost made you a widow. And he knew you knew that he would do it all again in a heartbeat. Maybe minus the wrongly made assessment. But he would take every measure to keep you safe.
His tenderness didn’t make it better. Quite the opposite. The tears streamed freely down your face. You hated how you looked when you cried. Covering your face with your hands, you let yourself sob harder, more openly, with every passing second – lost in that maelstrom of fear and overwhelming relief.
“I thought I lost you,” you sobbed into your hands.
Leon exhaled heavily, scattering small kisses wherever he could reach. He nudged you to turn around, breaking your position only to pull you into his arms as tightly as possible. Against his chest, he felt the dampness of your tears as your hands clutched at him, crying everything out.
Your mind fired wildly, your control gone – gone even enough to keep your questions buried.
“What if Grace hadn’t known the password?”
Leon tensed slightly, no answer ready.
“What if she had destroyed Elpis?”
He said your name softly – a warning, a plea not to follow that line of thought.
But you barely heard him through your sorrow. He would have died there. He had walked in willingly, like always, without asking for backup. And in the end, it had been Chris Redfield and his Hounds who pulled him out.
“You were ready to die, weren’t you?” The words sent panic surging through your body, your sobs turning harsher, shaking you. “Oh God, you expected it.” Your lungs tightened, breath coming in shallow, strained bursts, your face aching with the force of it.
“Look at me,” Leon said, gentle but firm.
“No.” You pressed yourself desperately against his chest. Even after all these years, you didn’t want him to see you like this.
“Please. Look at me.”
You didn’t stand a chance in that state. Leon created just enough space to tilt your chin upward.
He had seen you cry before, but not like this. Not so completely undone. You usually cried from anger, not from this kind of grief. The sight made his chest tighten – and before he could stop it, tears welled in his own eyes, blurring his vision.
He wiped at them quickly, but you had already seen.
Tears in your husband’s eyes were a rare thing – so rare it startled you enough that your own tears faltered.
“Leon…” He leaned into your hand against his cheek.
“I love you,” he said again, as if he could never say it enough. “And I’m here. And we have so much time.” A small, careful smile appeared. “No more T-Virus.”
No more virus – and with it, no more shadow of Raccoon City. Elpis would erase the T-virus and every other virus in the world. What that would mean for the world… you would face that together. What mattered more was that Leon’s guilt could finally come to an end. The villains of this world might try, again and again, to convince him he couldn’t save anyone…
He reached for a tissue on the nightstand and held it up to your nose.
“Hard blow,” he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
You blinked, then rolled your eyes. “Gimme that.” You snatched the tissue and blew your nose. “Bet this isn’t the hard blow you envisioned for your return.”
He chuckled, and you couldn’t help the small smile that followed from your own lips. “Ah, it was fifty-fifty.”
…even if Leon had believed it himself for a long time, you would prove to him that he was so much more than what people said about him. More than just someone who had to save the world.
Because he saved your world every time he came home.
And that he never had to bear the burden alone, and never would again.
That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?
👫 -> college!teez x fem!reader/oc {frat/sorority}
#️⃣ -> 9.9k (part NINE of ten)
‼️ -> 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, heavy angst, infidelity adjacent moments, mean boys, mean girls, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!
{ there are names & faces in here that come from NMWID <3 }
october 7th ~ monday ~ 9:58 a.m.
“Three, probably,” Wooyoung said, turning the wheel in his hands, parking along the side of the quiet street in front of Blend. Unbuckling yourself, you make a face and scoff.
“Three?” Sarcasm dripped from your lips. “You slut!”
Wooyoung turned the car off and glared at you. “You were on Yunho’s dick all summer, what the hell was I supposed to do?”
Grabbing the door handle you pursed your lips. “Fair enough.” The two of you popped the doors to the BMW open, but you reached a hand over the center console to grab his sweatshirt, yanking him back into his seat. With raised brows and attentive eyes he looked at you. Your words made him laugh. “Were they pretty?”
“So pretty,” he whispered, narrowing his eyes. The same sarcasm you gave him, he handed right back.
“Really?” He nodded after your whisper.
His eyes flickered down to your lips. “They certainly were not as hot as you, though.”
Heat rose to your cheeks, Wooyoung giggling at the way you shoved his shoulder and dashed out of the car. Fixing the hoodie you wore, adjusting your jeans before he circled the car, you were able to tuck your hair behind your ears by the time he joined your side. Maybe you should’ve dressed a bit better, not only were you going to speak to a professor about his own daughter, you were spending the day with Wooyoung, and you were wearing a hoodie and jeans.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice gentle. With a nod you smiled and led the way, Wooyoung hanging close behind you.
He wore the same, so you shouldn’t be too panicked about your appearance, a black zip up hoodie on his top and baggy black denim jeans on his bottom. You were his colorful counterpart, two sides of the same coin. Plus, he was here with you, skipping classes to drive you around so the two of you could face some type of justice. He’s seen what's beneath the clothes anyway, nothing about them should bother you.
Keeping your gaze locked on the door to Blend, Wooyoung flashed his from side to side, surveilling the premises, like he was on watch, on alert.
The clothes worry most likely stemmed from last semester, when you caught him with Yeji. Aside from shattering your heart into a trillion pieces, it made you question a lot about yourself. You’ve been over this before, Yeji is the complete opposite of you. At the time, Wooyoung, alleged slut, would seem like he’d go after anything, but finding him with Yeji sparked an entirely different insecurity.
They would be the couple to rise to absolute fame and fortune entirely too fast, and then, like you’d hope and envision over many nights before bed, their Camelot would burst into flames and they’d both crash and burn. Entirely too dramatic. Wooyoung was right about the situation fucking with your brain scientifically. You’d have to tell him what you planned out for him and his alleged lover's future later.
Then you’d have to ask him about this emotional maturity stuff. The emotional intelligence thing. What was it, how did you get it, and when were you supposed to use it?
Stepping into Blend, into the air that was cooler than the outside, you look hopefully toward the counter for Theo, but freeze immediately. Wooyoung, unsuspecting behind you, let the door shut and bumped into your back, bringing a hand to your shoulder, standing directly behind you.
For the most part, the typical Monday morning, Blend was empty. A student sat by the windows working vigorously on her laptop, but aside from her the cafe was empty. Save for the two boys standing at the counter. Well, one leaning on the tallest part of the counter, the other sitting on the counter with his knees tucked into his chest, his gangly legs poking out of the rips in his jeans. Theo, behind it, speaking with both of them, looked straight at you as you walked inside, glanced at the boy behind you, and froze, just as you had.
Your knees turned into jelly, and Wooyoung tightened his hand on your shoulder as if he could feel it.
“Let’s go,” he said to you. Judging by his tone, you know his eyes were hot on the three of them. “We’ll go somewhere else.”
Seonghwa and Soul, they both wore some type of remorseful look, the younger boys lips in a pout while the older boys brows were flipped over. You haven’t seen either of them since last Saturday, Soul when Tori pulled you away from him and his friends, and Seonghwa when you watched him battle with himself internally as Wooyoung smuggled you out of the ATZ house.
Interesting, really, how he could play the part of inconspicuous let me help you lover boy, seem so genuine, then turn out to be another player in the game of your life. That night, walking, or stumbling really, out of the house you never planned on setting foot in again, the way he looked at you… Shock, pain and confusion all wrapped into one cryptically beautiful face, it made you sick.
How could he possibly feel bad?
The other one, Soul. The freshman. The nineteen year old with a crush on you, he wore that face now. Pain, like he was holding something within that he needed to get out or he’d implode. The two of them here together, talking to Theo, who’s brother hated him a few weeks ago, it was all the more strange. It wasn’t until shit started hitting the fan that these boys started following you around.
“You’re here early,” Theo said.
Pointing your eyes at him directly, trying your hardest to not look at either babe to his left or his right, you clenched your jaw and tilted your head the slightest. “Not going to classes today,” you mumbled. When Seonghwa’s gaze traveled behind you, you swore he sighed as he turned away, facing the counter so he wouldn’t have to look at the two of you for any longer.
“Come on,” Wooyoung said, coming closer to your ear. “I don’t want to be here.”
An anger lived beneath the surface of your being. The feeling you had Saturday night when you unloaded onto Mina, and it was growing, it had been growing since that night. Face to face with them now, it was uncontrollable, you couldn’t hold it back.
Turning around, you put a hand to Wooyoung's cheek. Your whisper had his expression shift into something harder, understanding you within seconds. “Then you can go outside, and I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I’m not gonna leave you alone with them,” he said.
Your smile was slightly sadistic. “I was raised by Choi Yeonjun, I can handle myself.”
Wooyoung bit back his smile. He gave you a tiny nod. “Then, I’ll stay for the show.” His eyes did the thing again, they flickered to your lips. “Go get ‘em.”
Whirling around, you bounded for the coffee counter, all three boys caving within themselves more and more the closer you got. The space tightened, and nerves infected your veins, but your rage overpowered all.
Theo, standing up straight, glanced at his brother who sucked in a breath when you reached his side. “Hey, Ror,” he mumbled. “What can I-”
Facing Soul, looking him in the eye, you straightened your brows. “I want the same damn thing you’ve been making me for the last three weeks.” Soul was most definitely shaking, if you reached out to touch him you’d be able to feel it. “And, considering I have an allowance, I don’t think it’d be too much to get that Wednesday night Chai Tea now, would it?” Theo looked at Wooyoung, but Soul could barely give him a glance.
“No problem,” Theo said, and got to work.
Snapping your eyes to the boy behind the counter, you said, “Extra honey.” Turning back to the freshman who hadn’t moved an inch, you smiled at him. “What’s the matter, Soul? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Leaning on the counter, tipping your chin back a bit, you pouted. “You look like you’re a part of something you don’t really want to be a part of.” They boy gulped, his black eyes blinking feverishly. “What’d they do to you?” His eyes pointed behind you, at Seonghwa, but you put a hand on his thigh and he loosed a breath, coming back to you. “Don’t look at him, I’m right here.”
“Shota,” Theo spoke up, and you know he gave his brother a disapproving look.
“They made me do it, Aurora, I swear,” he breathed. Soul grasped his cheeks and inhaled. “He made me do it, Seonghwa, it was the initiation, I had to do something for each of them, his was you.” A rock formed in your gut, furthering the urge to clench your fist and launch it into Seonghwa’s jaw. “I had to get upperclassman attention from ITZ, and if I did, I passed, ‘cause I was desirable.”
A chill ran over your skin. Knowing what he’s been through, you shot a glare behind you at Seonghwa, one he shied away from. “You guys are disgusting.”
“He picked you, even though I wasn’t sure why, ‘cause you guys were a thing,” Soul continued on, the word vomit filling in some blanks you didn’t even know were blanks. “He had your location on his phone, you shared it with him or something, and he would be able to tell me where you were, where you were going, and I’d be able to find you.”
That made sense.
“I had to collect things for proof, or none of it counted,” Soul sucked in a breath, “You always wear lipgloss,” he glanced to your lips and scrunched up his face, “Except now, apparently, shit, and I’d walk you to class and take your straws from these cups, god.” Hiding his face in his hands now, he groaned and shook his head. “It sounds horrible like this,” he looked up and searched for his brother who bobbed his head, not looking up from his work.
“Keep going,” Theo said. “Tell her everything you told me.” He broke his fixed gaze on his work this time, shooting a glare at Seonghwa.
Soul, heartbroken, turned to you. “I recorded conversations… our conversations. For proof.” Your body went rigid. Standing up, you took a hand to your neck, grasping the collar of your hoodie for comfort.
“All of those times,” you whispered, and he pressed his lips together. His eyes were shining, like he was moments away from tears. “You… pestering me for attention, flirting with me like you couldn’t care less I told you I liked him,” you threw a hand back toward Seonghwa, then clasped that hand over your mouth, “I told you I liked him,” you whispered. Soul waited, flinching as you put the same hang on one of his knees. “Soul,” you said, and he nodded. There was no use in holding it all back now. What more did you have to lose? “I told you I had feelings for Seonghwa because I was hiding… a relationship, I guess I could call it, with Yunho.”
Theo, at the counter with your drinks, appeared just as shocked as his brother. “I knew you guys were up to something,” he muttered, sparing a look back at Wooyoung who perched himself up against the wall, his arms folded over his chest.
Waving Theo off, you only spoke to Soul. “It looked like he was with Mina, right?” The freshman nodded again. “I was… the sidepiece… who thought she was the main piece. He made it really convincing, that he loved me, and he told me that. I was keeping him and I a secret in hopes that he’d break it off with her, like he said he would, but he never did, and he continuously lied to me about it.”
Soul thought to himself, then said, “I mean, I figured something was up at some point when…”
“Tell her,” Theo’s tone went stern as his brother's voice trailed off.
“I had to get you to come to ATZ, that was the final thing,” he whispered. “If I could convince you to come to the house, by my invitation, I was in the clear.” His voice regained some strength. “You wouldn’t do it, I couldn’t get you to come, so he had me do something else.”
Soul's hand retreated into the pocket of his jeans. Pulling it out, his fingers in a fist, he offered it to you and you opened your hand. Discreetly, he dropped something soft in your palm and used his fingers to close yours. You didn’t even have to look, the feel of the lacy fabric told you enough.
“He told me that Yunho had something of yours,” Soul spoke above a whisper. If your blood wasn’t already running cold, it would be now. “If I could find it without him knowing I took it, I was in.” He gulped. “So, I did. It was easy, he never locks his door.”
“Where was it?” you whispered, your voice starting to shake.
Soul blinked. “In a drawer, next to his bed.” Squeezing your hand into a fist, you plunged it into your hoodie pocket and left the lace there. “Aurora?” When your eyes were back on him, he took a preparative breath. “Even though it looks like you aren’t with him anymore, I guess, I have to tell you…”
“Soul,” your voice wavered.
“They weren’t the only ones in there,” he whispered.
Jaw falling open, your knees really wobbled this time, like the earth had shook. Raking your hands through your hair, tugging at the strands, you took a step backward and fell into a pair of arms that secured your balance, wrapping around your waist. Dropping your hands to his, you gripped the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Wooyoung.
“Who the fuck?” you gasped.
“Mina,” Seonghwa said, and you dropped your head back onto Wooyoung's shoulder. A tear slipped down your cheek, one the boy holding you took from you with his cheek.
A singular horrid laugh came from your chest. “I don’t believe you,” you said, lifting your head to look at him, twisting in Wooyoung's arms. “You’re a fucking liar, Seonghwa. You knew what they were all doing the entire time, you preyed on my feelings, you had your little shadow stalk me and feed me more lies, how am I supposed to believe anything you say?”
“It wasn’t all lies,” Soul offered, taking your attention back. “I do like you, Aurora, but I remember what you said. That part wasn’t a lie.” Wooyoung's arms tensed around you.
“You can believe me because I had to hear all about it,” Seonghwa said, turning around so that his back was leaning on the counter. Looking down at you, that face he gave you Saturday night appeared. “And not from Yunho. From Mina.”
“What?” you sighed.
Seonghwa let his shoulders speak for him for a second, giving you half a shrug that also put emphasis on his own personal disappointment. “I’m risking a lot here, Ror, can we just acknowledge that first? I am the Vice President.” Your fingers dug into Wooyoung’s arms at his audacity. “What Wooyoung did Saturday night? What happened to him? That could happen to me, but here I am risking it all to tell you the truth.”
Rolling your eyes, where more tears had fallen from, you mumbled, “My hero,” and Theo chuckled to himself.
Ignoring you, Seonghwa continued. “Mina knew about you and Yunho. At first she had her strong suspicions, but after you ended up in my bed and confirmed it, I was able to put her theories to rest, because they were real. She and I were already wrapped up in Yeji’s presidential era thing, so she leaned on me for help. I was supposed to distract you, keep you away from Yunho so she could secure him, but she wasn’t able to do it.” He shrugged. “Neither of you have been able to do it.”
“Her telling you that she’s never been with anyone before? It was all an act. She wanted you to think you had the upper hand because you could get him in bed, and she knew he wouldn’t tell you if they were hooking up because he hadn’t told you anything about them at all. You were so worried about keeping your own secret, and then our secret, that she knew you weren’t going to notice if he was fucking you both. At the party, when you popped off on her, your confession as she called it? That was supposed to get you in huge trouble with Yeji and the other girls, Mina was going to keep playing along like she didn’t know about you and Yunho.”
“If I did find out,” you whispered, unable to feel anything save for Wooyoung’s grip around you, “I would most likely come to you, I would tell you, ‘cause I trusted you. You would tell her I knew, wouldn’t you?”
Seonghwa swallowed, hard, then nodded. “I would’ve, yeah.” Whatever was left of the goodness you held for this boy crumbled to pieces. “This deal between us, it was included in the Yeji deal, the president deal. If either was… is broken, then we’re…” he glanced up at Wooyoung.
“Is that why you’re telling me this now?” you asked, the words harsh behind your teeth. “Here, in a place where they can’t hear you?” Wriggling around in Wooyoung’s arms he kept his hold around you tight, not knowing what the hell you would do if he let you go. “So your precious Vice President role isn’t taken away from you?”
“No, Ror, this is just where we’ve caught you,” he said, his voice falling quiet. “Soul and I, we’ve been speaking since Wooyoung moved out, the entire house is whispering to each other. It’s fucked up. All of it is fucked up. Realizing what’s happened, what it’s done to you, to him, to the rest of us… But, mainly you? Ror, you were one of the first students I met here, one of the first friends I made while everyone else looked at me like some sort of disgusting nepo-baby snob.”
“Nepo-baby?” Settling in Wooyoung’s arms, you rested your body against his. Even Soul looked at his senior with curiosity. Theo though, he hung his head.
“Yeah,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes, taking a breath. “My uncle’s the dean,” he nearly whispered. The shock that flashed over your face made him huff a laugh. “Easy for me to be Vice President.”
“Easy for you to spill all of this and have no consequences,” you grit your teeth. “No way in hell Hongjoong would kick you out, he’ll keep you close, won’t he?”
“I guess, I…” Seonghwa scoffed, pushing off of the counter to take a few steps around himself. “That’s why I’m telling you this, because of my uncle.” He gestured a hand toward Wooyoung. “He could reinstate you. Hongjoong expelled you for disruption, didn’t he? I watched him sign the notice. Disruption of the rules, disruption of the mission. If you get enough of us to come forward to speak for you, to vouch for you, you can submit an appeal. I’ll help.”
“Why?” Wooyoung’s tone was hot, sharp to the touch if it took physical form.
Seonghwa flashed him sorry eyes. “Because what the fuck are we letting them get away with? We joined these groups because we wanted to be around people like ourselves, people to trust, people to lean on, people to get through these four years with. Our freshman year, amazing. Sophomore year, amazing,” he glanced at you, “For the most part. That’s when it got screwy, in the end. It started to turn into a money grab for most of us. We all saw what it was doing to us on social media, we all experienced the Yeji tag follower rush. It was so easy to fall into her game, her plan.”
“Why’d you do it, Hwa?” you whispered, and he softened.
“Reputations are built fast,” he said, sharing a look with Wooyoung, “You know that all too well.” He returned his eyes to you. “Yeji knew of my uncle and what power he had. She offered me money, like she did with all of us, and then she threatened me. Ror, you already told me what you heard about me, what I liked to do to girls I sleep with? How everyone spun it into this thing, that it made you mine? She said…” he paused, sucking in a breath, “She said that if I didn’t help her she would tell the entire school board, including my uncle… That I…”
He couldn’t even get the words out. Clenching his jaw he tipped his chin back and blinked too many times, showing too much emotion for Park Seonghwa.
“I had to help Mina, I had to make Yeji president, I had to make Soul do what he did, or she would ruin my life,” he whispered, looking back at you. “That doesn’t make anything between us better, and I understand that. I understand if you never forgive me, ever. I don’t deserve it.” A part of your heart felt for him, as much as your anger was fueled by his presence. “But, she deserves to pay.” He hesitated, then his following words made you all crack a soft laugh. “More than she already has.”
After a breath, you shook your head, praying you were able to process and remember everything he’s told you. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he sighed. “Just promise me you’ll bring me with you if you do anything about this, and I’ll tell you anything you want, Ror.”
Turning your head to peek up at Wooyoung, you waited for his blessing.
“Don’t look at me,” he said, shaking his head.
“If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it together,” you said. “I need you to be okay with it, too.”
He thought to himself, and shrugged, glancing away from you a couple times. “I mean, from what I know, he’s telling the truth,” he said quietly, letting his eyes travel to Seonghwa. “I didn’t know about Yeji threatening him with all of that, I thought it was just the whole kicked out of the frat thing.” The boys stared each other down, something unspoken happening in between it all. “She’s fucked up for that, Hwa,” he whispered, then held up a hand, “As much as you suck for doing all of this, much like myself… She’s fucked up, and deserves to pay.”
Looking at Seonghwa, the pain in his face somewhat resolved, he gulped and bobbed his head. He turned his gaze down to you. “As much as I want to tell you to go fuck off,” you began, and he tensed, “I unfortunately trust this guy,” you nodded back to Wooyoung, “So if he says you’re telling the truth, I think I have to believe you, too.” A small smile broke onto his lips. “It feels stupid as hell though,” you held up a hand, “I just said this to Wooyo, Hwa. Please, for the love of god, don’t fucking embarrass me. Again.”
“I won’t,” he said, tone hurried and rushed. “Aurora, I won’t.”
Taking a steadying deep breath for yourself, and what you’re about to agree to, you tell him what you have planned for the day. That Soobin finished his lecture around one o’clock, and that you and Wooyoung were going to go in and speak with him. About what, though, you still weren’t sure. Walking into his classroom guns blazing didn’t seem ideal, and Seonghwa agreed with you.
“You know, Soobin is friends with my uncle,” Seonghwa said, like it were everyday information. Eyes shooting open wide, standing firmly on your own two feet now, you spun toward Wooyoung and wacked his arm. Cringing, he covered the spot with his hand and muttered a joke about you beating him again.
“Chan said this,” you restated, bringing up what the boy had said to you Friday night. “Soobin has a friend of importance, holy shit.”
“So we go to Soobin, then we take it to my uncle,” Seonghwa said, laying out the plan. He glanced at Soul, still sitting on the counter, watching you all with admirable patience. “I think you’re stuck with us, kid.”
Soul sat up tall, averting his gaze over to you, knowing it was your call. A smile snuck onto his lips when you nodded toward him. “Come with us,” you said gently. “You have four years in that house, it’s better to make a change now.” The boy jumped off the counter and tucked his hands behind his back, ready for the next call to action. Theo smiled at you and it told you plenty. He didn’t need to say anything to express his thanks and his apologies, he was able to wrap it all up in the curve of his cheeks.
“Crushes only,” Wooyoung said to Soul, motioning toward you, and the freshman widened his eyes and nodded, bowing his head in understanding.
“Four of us could be enough,” Seonghwa said, scanning the group before him. Looking at you he asked, “Should we get Tori, too? Make it five? The more, the better.” The weight of the plethora of unread messages and missed calls living on your phone made it onto your face. Pulling his lips into a frown, Seonghwa said, “Or… not?”
“I haven’t spoken to her since the party,” you mumbled. “Which makes me want to ask you, what I wanted to ask you before,” you paused and he nodded, “Did she know?”
“No,” Seonghwa sighed, answering you as fast as he possibly could. “She didn’t know anything, she and Yuna weren’t involved. They were too close to you, Yeji knew better than to involve them. They found out everything in real time with you, last week.”
Damn. Which meant she was going through this alone.
“What about Mingi?” you asked, biting your tongue, praying to a god your father never taught you about. If he knew, and Tori found out he knew, and he didn’t tell her anything… Almost three years of her life would be torn apart. Almost three years with the love of her life.
Seonghwa shook his head. “Mingi wasn’t in on it either.” Thank god. Hesitating, he glanced away for a moment. “Yunho didn’t know anything either, for what it’s worth.”
You started to laugh, all of the boys looking to you with worry. “Of course he didn’t,” you laughed even louder, smacking a hand to your thigh. Wooyoung slid a hand over your shoulder. “That just means he was playing his own damn game. A little side quest. How long can I keep fucking both these girls before one of them finds out?”
Yes, him.
Yes, Yunho.
You knew this. You’ve always known this. It shouldn’t hurt this bad.
You just feel stupid for falling for it.
You feel stupid for thinking this entire time, since May, that you had the one up on Mina with Yunho. That you were winning the game, that he was yours. But, while you and Mina played cops and robbers, chasing after one another every other night, unknowingly tossing Yunho back and forth, you had no idea he was the one holding the gun.
Digging for your phone in your back pocket, you swiped open to your messages.
You needed her.
You needed Tori.
Ignoring the paragraphs you’d read later now that you know she’s really on your side, you opt for a phone call, tapping the button in the corner. Pressing it to your ear, you wandered away from the boys, praying that they wouldn’t annihilate each other while you weren’t there to referee. It took two rings, but she answered with a heave of a breath.
“Aurora?” Half panicked, half shocked, either way, her voice was the greatest comfort.
“Torilynn?” Hitting her with her full, birth given name, you braced yourself for her shriek. And, oh, did she shriek.
“I can’t even be mad at you for saying that,” she said. “Why are you calling me, holy shit, where the fuck have you been?”
“At home,” you said. “Dad’s been driving me back and forth everyday. I can’t be in that house. I don’t even know how you can be in that house.”
“Ror, we’re falling apart,” she lowered her voice. “We told Ryujin, me and Yuna, and she lost her shit. It’s like a battlefield up in here, Yeji won’t show her face. Mina and Chaeryeong are speaking for her, but even then, no one knows who to believe. I want to say we’re on the winning side though, ‘cause it’s pretty much all of us against Yeji. What’s she gonna do, expel us all?”
“Tor,” you said, putting an end to her ramble. “We have more to tell you.”
“We?”
“Me, Wooyoung, Seonghwa-”
“Seonghwa?!” she shouted.
Closing your eyes, you sighed. “And, Soul.”
“How the… What the fuck?” The line went quiet, then she uttered another, “What… the fuck?!”
“I’m at Blend. Its operation take down Yeji and Mina in a few hours. How fast can you get here?”
You heard her take a breath, then move around wherever she was. “Getting ready now, I’m at the house.” Something was dropped on her end, it sounded like a hairbrush. “And Mina?”
“Yeah,” you started to smile. “Guess who hung out with her big brother Chan Friday night?”
“ROR!”
“Guess who was right about her being a big, fat, liar?”
Tori, silent for a few seconds, came back with the sound of an echo, like she’d put the phone on speaker. “You,” she mumbled. “Ror, I’m sorry.”
You were on apology overload for the day. “Don’t be, we were all being deceived. Just get here as soon as you can. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going, not even Yuna, unless she asks.”
“Holy shit, okay,” she breathed, the sound of her makeup clicking open and closed sounding through the phone. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you soon.”
october 7th ~ monday ~ 12:23 p.m.
It took Tori a half hour to get to Blend, longer than any of you anticipated, but when she arrived, hair done, makeup done, dressed to impress, you couldn’t blame her. Where there were nerves, there was an exquisite, done up appearance. Admitting she got carried away the second she stepped into the cafe, she bustled over to where you were sitting at a booth beside Wooyoung, Seonghwa and Soul across from you. Leaping from your seat, outstretching your arms, she fell into them, squeezing you into oblivion.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” she muttered into your hair, rocking you back and forth. “Choi Aurora, don’t you ever ghost me again.” When she pulled back she used her baby purse for ammo and knocked it against your arm. Glancing at Wooyoung who met you with a small smile, you couldn’t help but laugh. Looking at him, too, Tori shook her head. “What the fuck is going on?” She took in Seonghwa, and Soul. “How are you not doxxed? Either of you?”
Putting a hand on her shoulder, her light colored sweater matching the weather outside, you pulled her attention back to you and smiled. “I’ll update you in the car. We need to go now. It takes a half hour to get to the law side of the school, we need to leave.”
The boys all rose from the booth, heading toward the door as Tori asked, “What, who’s driving?”
Wooyoung gave her a smirk and spun his key on his finger. “I am,” he sang as he passed by her, and the three filed out the door.
Walking side by side with her, she linked her elbow with yours and leaned closer to you. “Did you guys-“
“No,” you huffed, pulling your brows together.
Tori, shocked, asked, “But, you’re back on? You two?”
Outside of the cafe now, watching him circle around his BMW, taking his time, waiting for you, you looked at your best friend without an inkling on your face. “I don’t know. We’ll see once this shitstorm is over.” Unlinking your arms you hurried for the passenger door and slid into your seat the same as Wooyoung, who met you inside with a smile.
Soul ended up in the middle of the backseat, both Seonghwa and Tori squishing against him to lean forward toward the front seats. Tori sat behind you, while Seonghwa sat behind Wooyoung. The two glanced at one another. If looks could kill, Seonghwa would be done for.
“I don’t think I like that you’re coming with us,” she grilled.
Wooyoung looked through the rearview mirror as he manipulated the car out of the tight, parallel park job. “Tori, he’s okay.”
“Yeah, okay, Yeji fucker,” she said, and you laughed. Wooyoung, offended as ever, twisted his face up and shot you both a look. “She might be able to forgive you faster, but I’m best friend, ain’t no way in hell you’re living that shit down, Wooyoung, I won’t let you. This girl was messed up for months.”
“Okay,” he whispered. “Fair enough.”
Putting your hand over his on the shifter, where it lived all morning, you shared a smile with him, one that made Tori whine.
“Somebody tell me everything right now or I’m going to lose my mind.”
And so, you filled her in.
For thirty minutes the boys sat in silence while you and Tori yapped endlessly back and forth. Seonghwa popped in occasionally to give his input, or when you’d ask him if you were telling the story right, you know, the one he just told you, but other than that he let you take the reins. Not one of them dared to get between two best friends, not one wanted to feel the wrath of interrupting you two.
She heard about the bar with Chan, you heard about her solemn time spent with Mingi trying to work things out amidst the chaos. You told her how your dad has been, she told you what it’s been like in the house this week. Spoiler: hell. Filling her in on Souls purpose here, she told you about Jongseob and how he still wouldn’t leave her alone.
For thirty minutes, you wouldn’t shut up. Not until Wooyoung pulled up in front of some architectural masterpieces, buildings stretching into the sky for miles. Beiges, tans, sparks of earthy orange, the law side of Nasara was breathtaking. It was like the Conoscenza on steroids.
“Holy shit, they get it good over here,” you whispered within the quiet air, and four hums agreed with you. Nerves shot down into your gut as Wooyoung pulled into a parking spot, the lines of white in a row along the center median of the wide road, the median covered in green grass and delicately manicured bushes and shrubs.
“Which building is he in?” Tori asked, and you answered with the press of your finger onto the glass window.
“That one,” you said, finger in the direction of the largest building to your left. “He’s on the fifth floor. We have to hurry, he might leave right after he’s done.”
The five of you yanked off your seatbelts and threw the doors open, but Tori stopped you before you could get out. “What are we going to say to him?” She waited, and when you couldn’t answer she asked, “What are you going to say to him?”
Flickering your eyes between hers, you gulped and tried to smile. “Honesty. The truth. Even if he doesn’t believe it.”
She took your words, and lowered her chin, signifying her support. “Let’s go, Choi.”
Waiting for you outside of your door, Wooyoung pushed it shut once you stepped out, Seonghwa and Soul a few steps ahead of everyone. Tori flashed you a look before she followed the boys, letting you know she was on your side, that she would have your back no matter what happened inside of this classroom.
“You gonna be okay?” Wooyoung asked quietly once Tori turned to follow the other two.
With a slight shrug, you tightened your lips. “I think so.” He waited for you to say more, knowing that you were going to say more. “It’s all too much, it’s overwhelming. Like, none of it feels like it should be real.”
“But it is,” he added, agreeing with you.
“It is,” you sighed.
He held open his hand, offering it to you. He wore a ring on his middle finger, a skinny silver band, and when you placed your palm over his and laced your fingers together, it was cool to the touch.
“I got you,” he said, meeting your eyes, calmness becoming him. “No matter what happens, with any of this, with us, I got you. I’m here for you.”
A breath corrupted your lungs, forcing you to look away from him. Wanting to ignore how your heart started to beat fast, how he suddenly had the ability to become a rock for you, part of you didn’t want to. You wanted to feel excited, you wanted someone like this, someone genuine. And, if you thought back on it, like really thought back on it, he’s always been someone for you to lean on. You just never allowed yourself to.
Squeezing his hand, you dropped them between your bodies and pulled him along, walking faster than any of them, you and Wooyoung taking the lead. Seonghwa and Soul were talking about some anime the freshman was into, an old one that you’re certain your father watched as a kid. Up on the sidewalk now, turning to question him with a brow, you ignored Tori smiling at you and Wooyoung's intertwined hands.
Soul laughed at something Hwa said, then once he stepped up on the sidewalk he looked around at the five of you. “Hey,” he said, serious as he was the day he told you he fucked Theo’s girlfriend. “It’s us,” he laughed between his words, “They’re us.”
“Are you talking about Avatar?” you asked, and he nodded, proud. “Avatar the Last Airbender? That’s not anime, did Theo teach you nothing?”
Soul shoved his hands in his back pockets and cocked his head to the side, his blonde hair brushing over his forehead. “Damn, and all this time I thought you were Aang.”
Holding up your hand, the one Wooyoung wasn’t clinging to, you motioned with one finger around the group. “We are Team Avatar?” Soul’s cheeks broke out into a grin. “I am Aang, Soulie.”
Wooyoung nodded, rubbing a hand over his chin. “She is,” he uttered under his breath.
Seonghwa snickered. “That makes you Katara.”
“What?” The hand dropped quickly, his brows furrowing tight above his eyes, nestling right into the center of his forehead. “I would not be Katara.” Moving your other hand over the one you were holding, you tapped it twice.
“It’s okay,” you whispered, and the boys laughed together. “You’re Katara, it’s okay.”
“What does that make me?” Tori’s face read that she wanted no part of this, but equally wanted all the parts of this. “I’m not Zuko, nor am I Sokka.”
“That’s why you’re Toph,” Soul said without missing a beat, and you and Wooyoung lost it. Weighing her options, she glanced about the trees and shrugged.
“She’s badass, I’ll take it,” she said, then sent a look toward Soul and Seonghwa. “You’re definitely Zuko,” she pointed at Hwa, then Soul, “Which makes you Sokka.”
Everyone narrowed their eyes at him, the freshman stuck with four juniors. His silly little smile lit up his face as he took each one of you in.
He shrugged. “Only Sokka would be able to force you into choosing which character you are.” Tori had something smart to say to him, something that Seonghwa bounced off of, the three of them bickering with one another like their new aliases would. You thought of Sokka’s other charm and how it related to Soul, one you weren’t too keen on sharing amongst the group right now, so you would save it for later.
Here’s hoping he’d make it to stick around for later.
Their bickering continued into the building, their whispers echoing off the sculpted walls and ceilings, all the way up to the fifth floor. Five stories of listening to their pointless arguments of which episode was the best, and was Avatar really an anime or not? Five flights of stairs, and by the time you had reached the landing of number five, they still hadn’t figured it out.
“Guys, shut up,” you hissed, turning to them once they made it up behind you. Like children, they snapped into place. “It’s that room,” you pointed a finger to the third metal door down the hallway to the right. “When I looked up his lecture it said floor five, room eight.”
The man was there. Mina's father was in that room, and you were here in the hall of a building you’ve never once set foot in so that you could tattle to a girl's daddy about how she hurt your feelings.
Your friends were quiet.
They were quiet until you turned to face them and said, “Maybe we should just leave.” Audible groans and protests came out of each one of them. Looking down at the floor, your legs like lead, not even Wooyoung’s hand over your shoulder could soothe the feeling.
“We’re so close, Ror,” Seonghwa said.
Tori nodded profusely. “After all of this, you can do it. You said it, go speak your truth.”
Truth. Your perception of truth is so distorted at this point, how were you so sure that the four of them weren’t lying to you right now in this moment? Convincing you that it was alright to confront this innocent man, persuading you to walk into his classroom and shame him for the daughter he raised. What if it was all a lie?
You should’ve dropped out when you had the chance.
“Ro,” Wooyoung whispered. He took both hands to your shoulders and walked you backward, away from the others who took the cue to wander down the other side of the hall. Looking into his eyes, his wide, sparkling, empathetic eyes, you took a breath to ease your pounding heart. “You’re okay. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, no matter what any of them say. No one is forcing you to do this.” He nodded, making sure you nodded along with him. “This isn’t me trying to talk you into it, but you’ve come this far. If anyone has the capability of going in there and talking to this Soobin guy, it’s you.” You tried to look away, but he took a finger to your chin, keeping your eyes on his. “You’re Aang,” he whispered, and it made you both laugh.
After a long deep breath, you whispered, “And you’re Katara,” just to laugh all over again. His toothy smile flushed your cheeks pink. “Only if you want to be,” you added, and he rolled his eyes.
“I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t want to be your Katara.”
Standing within the world's biggest hallway, the space seemed to close in on you, the air growing tighter, and that feeling from the car ride this morning came back. Butterflies filled your belly. His finger on your chin, frozen in place, didn’t dare to move. Only his eyes shifted to your lips, and just as you were both about to bite the bullet and close the inches between you, the doors to four different classrooms flew open.
Jumping apart, rejoining reality, you both turned away from one another for a few seconds as students poured out into the hall. Your friends down the other end blended in with everyone else, you couldn’t spot them as you faced Wooyoung. When his eyes found you again, he gave you a smile, then nodded toward the classroom that was nearing empty.
“I got you,” he said, holding up a pinky finger.
He’s got you.
You’ve got you.
You could do this.
Tiptoeing toward the classroom, Wooyoung getting lost in the crowds that washed him down the hall, you hovered a few feet from the door that was now closed. Students were either filing into other rooms or trekking down the mile long staircases. It would just be you and Soobin. If he allowed you to speak.
Just you and Soobin. You would speak your truth.
After a breath that ended with the heaviest sigh, you threw away your inhibitions and grabbed the doorknob, pushing the heavy metal open with a creak. The lecture room was like any other, numerous rows of chairs behind long tables all facing a large desk toward the corner of the room in front of a chalkboard and a tall projector and screen. Like the rest of the building it smelled of books and old paper, like school.
The man standing behind his desk gathering his things into a bag looked like school.
Tall, a stretched out type of stocky, Soobin had dark hair with a few strands of pepper streaking through it. Glasses perched on his nose, he used the knuckle of a finger to push them back after shoving a few leather bound books into his bag. You wouldn’t lie, he was stunning, you cursed yourself for not considering law as an option for a major. Tori was going to eat this up.
He didn’t hear you until you took a couple steps toward him, and still, there were feet upon feet of space between you. His head popped up, his hair parted to the side somewhat gracing his forehead ever so slightly.
“Hi,” he said, his voice clear, and so deep. “Can I help you?” Looking at your trembling fingers folded in front of your middle, Soobin’s brows dipped. “Is everything alright? Were you just in my lecture?”
“No,” you said, then cleared your throat, feeling the tightening begin already. “I, uh, I wasn’t, I just… Was hoping you’d have a few minutes to talk?”
Glancing about his empty room, he peered at his things, then back to you. “If this is about the practice, I’ll have to send you to enrollment, I’m not-”
“It’s about Mina,” you pushed from your lips, cutting him straight off. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, Mr. Choi, but I could really use your help.”
Setting his jaw straight, his lips that always seemed to rest in a smile pointed down. Looking in front of him, at the rows of tables and chairs, he sighed, then nodded once. He stepped around his desk, leaving his things behind. Motioning for you to follow him, he sat on the table of the first row, letting his longer than life legs hang off the edge. His feet were almost touching the floor.
“Is she okay?” he asked, not giving away anything with an inflection in his tone. He was a lawyer, he was going to be good at this.
Sitting beside him, using your hands to help you up onto the table, you left ample space between you and Soobin. “Uh, she’s okay,” you said, folding your hands in your lap. “I’m not.”
He released a breath, letting his head shake, pointing his focus forward. “One good year,” he mumbled to himself. “What’d she do?”
Taken aback, you stuttered a few times before you were able to say, “A lot. She was involved with… a lot. I felt bad coming here, you don’t know me, I don’t know you, but I’m at a loss of where to go, or what to do.”
Soobin leaned back on his hands, his wide chest curving inward, his light blue button down clinging to his muscle. “Your feelings are valid, Aurora.” The way your eyes shot open made him smile, his lips pulling to the side. “You’ve met Chan, kid. The only boy in the world who cannot keep his mouth shut. I was fully prepared for you to come in here today, he gave me the rundown. Usually I walk out with my class so I can get home as fast as I can to my wife.”
“Faden,” you said, and his smile grew.
“Chan ran you through our family tree, I heard,” Soobin said. “Always some type of excited, that one is,” he glanced away from you, “Funny, too,” he looked back at you, “But, not as funny as my Wonwoo.” A snicker passed through his lips, one you joined in on. “Don’t know why I felt the need to share that with you. Probably has to do with the fact that you share no relation with my family in any way, yet our history cannot help itself. Our lives are still intertwined.”
“You mean,” you cleared your throat, “My dad?”
Soobin pressed his lips into a flat smile and raised his brows. “Your dad, Aurora.”
“Chan told me he was… an asshole to Faden,” you said, then shook your head quickly, “Mrs. Choi, sorry.” He huffed a laugh.
“Soobin and Faden,” he assured you. “Don’t stress it.”
“What happened between them?” you whispered your question, and for the first time it seems you’ve struck him with the unknown.
Taking his time to think, the process happening all over his face, he tilted his head. “How new is this for you? Chan, and this?”
Toying with your fingers, you said, “Very new. I didn’t know any of you existed until a week or so ago.”
“Right,” Soobin said, his tone always breathless, yet on point. “I’m not sure it’s my place to tell you what happened between them, Aurora.” Pointing his brows, he shook his head. “If you asked your father, would he talk about it with you?”
“I dunno,” you muttered, glancing down at your hands. “We talk about a lot, but he’s never brought up his past like that. It’s always vague, he likes to start from when I was born. He said that’s when his life began, or something.”
His smile triggered yours. “That’s beautiful,” he said. “I know how he feels.” There’s a few seconds of quiet before Soobin sat himself up and sighed. “Now, speaking of children, let’s get to Mina, shall we?” He gave you a look that told you you must’ve physically turned green. “It’s alright, Aurora, Chan spoke with me. I’ve been debriefed,” he laughed, “Don’t hold back on me, I know my daughter, I can handle it.”
“I’m just going to tell you everything I know,” you whispered, and he smiled with his nod. “All of it, Soobin.”
Twisting on the table, trying to break some type of ice, he folded his long legs beneath him and motioned for you to do the same. “Hit me,” he said, his chin low and his gaze on focus mode.
Every nerve you felt out in the hallway had vanished. Something about this man, about Soobin, made it entirely too easy to speak to him. He listened, he took in every word, every sentence, no matter how clinically insane it sounded, and he digested it. Processing in real time, the man, a certified genius allegedly, dots were being connected and ties were being tied.
Though most of what you told him was you accusing his daughter of being a liar, and a manipulative bitch, he took it all like you were talking to him about the shoes you had bought for the school year. Not one thing that came out of your mouth made him flinch, made him itch, made him stop you out of fear of blowing his top.
How crazy was this chick?
Unsure of how long it actually took to tell him everything, you were almost near tears twice, something he took into account.
“I swear to you,” you whispered by the end of it all. Glancing about the room, you held one hand on your heart and the other in the air. “Whatever the hell it is they do in court,” you said, and he laughed. “I solemnly swear. I”ve spoken the truth. My truth. I’m not here to accuse your daughter, I am not here to get her into trouble, I am not here to make her out to be a bad person, because believe me, Soobin. Aside from this shit, I know she could be a really good person.”
Dropping his eyes, Soobin bobbed his head and shot you a half smile. “First of all, thank you for coming to me. I appreciate you coming here, telling me all of this.” Taking a needed deep breath, you popped your brows. “Second of all,” he started, sitting forward, placing his elbows on his knees, “I am so sorry.” His pause held power, a lawyer's choreographed moment of silence. “This is not me apologizing for her, or because of her. This is me apologizing to you as a person on the outside. You didn’t deserve any of that, no person does.”
“Thank you,” you whispered.
Soobin glanced at the door. “Your friends that you said came with you, are they okay?”
Following his line of sight, not a soul seen from the tiny window on the door, you said, “I think so, for now.” Whipping your head back to him, your wide eyes excited his own. “Seonghwa, Park Seonghwa. He’s here with me. The Vice President of the fraternity.”
Soobins cheeks broke out into a knowing smile. “Jimins nephew,” he said with a chuckle.
Energy surged through your body. “Yes,” your whisper was breathless. “Him. He said he could help us. That you guys… You could help us. All things with Mina aside, the wench sitting on the throne in my sorority needs to be taken care of.” Soobin considered his options. “I know, your daughter is involved, I can understand if you won’t. Either way, we’re going to go to the dean's office and do this all over again, except it will be five of us in that room with him. Maybe more if we can get my best friend's boyfriend to join us, and knowing him and her, it won’t take much convincing. Trust me.”
Soobin rolled his eyes playfully and looked down to the table beneath him. “Oh, don’t worry, I remember my twenties.” Sharing a laugh with him, he reached over to you when it got quiet, placing a firm hand to your shoulder. A fatherly hand. “Like I said, thank you for coming here first. Trust me when I say, that when the time comes, I’ll stand with you and your friends.”
Holy shit.
You could’ve jumped out of your skin. Tossing your head backward with the loudest sigh, a tear seemed to slip out at the same time. Unable to help yourself, you launched yourself forward and hugged him. Returning it, his arms firm and strong, Soobin let go when you did, letting you hug him for as long as you needed.
Pulling away from him you touched your cheeks and let out a laugh. More tears were falling. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
Soobin put his hand back on your shoulder. “That’s okay, let it out. You just revisited some traumas, it’s heavy to talk about, but the more we do, the lighter it gets.”
Wiping your cheeks clean, you sniffled. “You should be a therapist.”
Soobin breathed through a laugh. “I’ve heard that one before.”
“I mean it,” you said. “You seem like a good dad, too. I’m sorry this is all happening with Mina.”
He brushed the matter off, then hopped from the table, offering you his hand to help you down safely. When you looked up at him, he smiled and said, “Your dad seems like a good dad, too.” The words brought the tears back to your eyes. “Learn about his past, but don’t hold it against him. People can learn, people can change. I’ve watched it happen, in three different people.”
Out of all the names you’ve learned, you couldn’t place who he was talking about, but figured it must’ve meant the world to him.
“Mina can, too,” you offered, and he smiled, grabbing your shoulder once more before he walked to his desk.
“Thank you, Aurora, but now I have to go home to my wife.”
Heading for the door, you waved at him and flashed him a genuine smile. “Thanks, Soobin. I appreciated your time.”
Hitting you with one last lazy smile, he propped his phone up to his ear, and just as you were walking through the doorway, you heard him say, “Hi, my love. We’re going to need to come up here together within the next couple of days, can Kai take the store for a day or two?”
The hallway was silent.
Pulling the door closed behind you, you stepped away from it and ran your hand through your hair.
You’d done it. You had spoken to Soobin, you told him everything, every detail down to his daughter lying about his son. He heard all about Yunho, all about how he teetered back and forth between you and Mina, and she knew about it, but you didn’t make her out to be the complete villain there, Yunho easily fit the mold as well.
A grown adult, one who works at the college, now knew about Yeji’s scheme. It was out there. It was no longer a petty thing for your make believe hierarchy shit.
He believed you. He believed it all.
The truth, your truth.
Facing the end of the hall your friends were sitting around, you watched as their heads perked up.
Their truth.
Our truth.
Your steps started out light, the dizziness you felt since stepping out of Soobins presence intoxicating, but the closer you got to them, the more they came into view, their beautiful faces and their anxious anticipation, your steps turned into strides, which then turned into a run as a smile and a ragged laugh graced your lips. Their murmurs could be heard, flowing in one ear and out the other, their excited energy influencing your own.
Wooyoung leapt to his feet, the others rising with a hesitance, not wanting to get their hopes up too high before you had the chance to spill the news, but the boy couldn’t hold himself back. Walking toward you, knowing you weren’t going to slow down he opened his arms, throwing them around you as you launched yourself onto his chest, arms tightening around his neck. With your feet off the floor, he laughed and stumbled backward at the impact.
Catching your breath, your shoes found the tile. Tangling your hands within his hair, his dark waves framing his face, you pulled back from him and pressed your noses together. One of his hands took to your cheek, brushing away tears that lingered and new ones that fell. Heart pounding between your lungs, you loosed a laugh with him and pressed your hands to his cheeks.
“I did it,” you whispered, and he smiled, his gaze full of pride.
“You did it,” he whispered back, and then he lost himself in you, your lips finally meeting. A kiss way overdue, yet so perfectly timed you couldn’t even bring yourself to reprimand your heart that reached out toward him.
You’d done it. Soobin knew, and he was willing to help you.
And, as much as it was a relief to have gotten past this first step, knowing what was to come did nothing but scare you shitless.
NU home ✧ nice for what masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3
you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.
synopsis ᯓ you completely forgot about the existence of soulmates until you woke up your bias’s body.
w.c ᯓ 3.2k
author’s note: KOREAN DIALOGUE IS IN BOLD!! also oops late update
not proofread!
masterlist
“why are you still asleep?”
a deep voice pulled you out of your slumber, making you stir. even though your mind was still groggy, you couldn’t help but feel like something was.. off. the sheets beneath you were way too soft to be yours, and the voice - it wasn’t one that you recognised.
you rubbed your eyes open when a bright light blinded you, causing you to squint. you soon realised that you were face-to-face with a phone flashlight.
“i told you, we shouldn’t have drank yesterday,” the voice spoke again, moving his phone away from you revealing a face that you knew very well.
“san?” you exclaimed, your eyes widening with shock. without thinking, you grabbed the blanket on the other side of the bed, pulling it closer to you. “what are you doing here?”
san looked at you, raising an eyebrow. “why are you speaking english?”
you blinked rapidly, your breath caught in your throat. standing in front of you, leaning against the wall, was none other than san from ATEEZ, hair messy as if he just woke up too.
just a few hours ago, you were at your parent’s house, visiting them during your school break. you finally had three months off of university and decided to spend your time with them, away from stress and assignments.
yet, you woke up in a room that wasn’t yours.
your looked around - the expensive furniture, the clothes thrown over a chair in the corner, the faint scent of cologne lingering in the air. this wasn’t your life. none of this was right.
you stumbled out of the bed, accidentally bumping into san. “wooyou-?” you heard him say as you shuffled out of the door.
your legs were shaky as you tried to search for something, anything that could explain what was happening.
the sight of your reflection in a nearby mirror stopped you in your tracks. the face staring back at you wasn’t yours.
it was wooyoung’s. your bias in ATEEZ.
you had been a fan of ATEEZ for quite a long time. you’ve been listening to all their music since the beginning and even bought some of their albums to support them. however, you never really had the opportunity to see them in real life - other than right now.
“what the hell..?” you whispered, touching your - no, his face in disbelief. you leaned in closer to the mirror, your fingers tracing the unfamiliar features. you felt the smooth skin, sculpted nose and the full lips that wasn’t yours. you shook your head violently, hoping that this was a weird dream, but nothing changed.
san’s voice broke through your thoughts. “wooyoung, what’s going on?” he asked cautiously as he watched you inspect your face strangely.
you turned to him, looking at him in confusion. “san i-“ you began, before your words caught in your throat. what could you even say? that you woke up in one of his closest friend’s body? that you weren’t actually wooyoung? as much as you wanted to tell him, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually spit out the words.
the only thing that came out of your throat was a shaky breath. you had no clue on how to explain what was happening to you - no clue on how he would react that a random fangirl ended up in his friend’s body.
san’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer. “talk to me, you’re scaring me man..” he said gently. san ended up leading you to the couch, seating you down, hoping that you could finally explain to him what was happening.
you took a deep breath. “san, i.. i’m not wooyoung,” you explained.
“what are you talking about?” his face shifted from concern to confusion. “why are you speaking in english?”
“i’m..” you hesitated, not knowing how to introduce yourself. “i was in my house a few hours ago and now i’m in wooyoung’s body.”
san stared at you, taking in your words. for a moment, he didn’t say anything. it looked like he was looking for any signs that you were lying, or pulling a weird prank.
suddenly, his eyes lit up, as if he realised something. “you’re his soulmate,” he said confidently, clapping his hands.
“what?” you exclaimed in surprise, taken aback.
“you’re wooyoung’s soulmate,” san repeated. “i remember seeing a really cool soulmark online, some people can swap bodies with each other if they’re soulmates.”
“but how-“ you tried to clarify, before you heard the sound of a door swinging open. you watched as hongjoong walked out his room, making eye contact with you and san.
“am i interrupting something?” hongjoong asked, stepping into the living room.
san shook his head as smiled widely, pointing at you, “this is wooyoung’s soulmate.”
“really?” hongjoong’s eyes landed on you, moving to sit next to you. “do you speak korean?”
you shook your head. “i don’t.. but for some reason i can understand you guys.”
there was a resounding ‘ohh’ that left their mouths in response to what you said. “i think it’s a soulmate thing..” san said, looking at hongjoong, nodding.
“are you an ATINY?” hongjoong asked expectantly.
you nodded, feeling shy that you were actually talking to your favourite idols. “i’ve been a fan for a long time,” you said nervously.
hongjoong leaned back into the couch, grinning. “well, this is definitely not the way most ATINY’s meet us,” he joked.
san chuckled along with hongjoong, clearly enjoying the unusual turn of events. “isn’t it crazy? who would have thought that wooyoung’s soulmate was a fan?”
you let out a small laugh, before you remembered the situation you were in. “but.. what happens now?” you asked worriedly, hoping that either one of them would know.
hongjoong exchanged a look with san. “we’re not sure,” hongjoong admitted. “this isn’t something we’ve dealt with before.”
san nodded in agreement. “we’ll need to find a way to switch you back,” he paused, unsure on how to proceed. “do you have something important to get back to at home..?”
“well-“ you coughed out, catching the attention on the two men. “i may or may not be on my period..”
˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆
wooyoung groaned in pain, clutching his stomach in the bed he woke up in. he rolled onto his back - his cramps were unlike anything he had ever experienced.
“what’s going on?” he thought, struggling to reach the edge of the bed. every inch of his body felt wrong, wrong in a way he couldn’t explain.
he sat upright, looking around the room. the furniture, the decor, the ATEEZ poster in the corner of the room. “wait a second-“ this wasn’t his room.
“where am i..?” he whispered to himself, the panic setting in. wooyoung glanced down at his your hands, his eyes widening when he noticed the difference in size. the realisation hit him - he wasn’t wooyoung anymore.
he stood up, ignoring the banging pain in his stomach. “nononono..” he muttered as he ran to the nearby door, praying that it was the bathroom.
he slammed the door open, flicking the lights on. he gripped the edges of the sink and forced himself to look up. it wasn’t his face - not the one that he’s been seeing for years.
he saw you.
wooyoung’s breath hitched as he took in your features, studying every detail of you. the way your hair framed your face, the way your eyebrows arched slightly when you were shocked, you were.. gorgeous.
at that moment, everything made sense: you were his soulmate.
for ages, he watched friends, members and even the staff at his company find their soulmates one by one - seeing their different connections that everyone seemed to talk about. wooyoung always wondered when it would be his turn, even memorising the different types of soulmarks that were known.
now that he’s seen you - you were all he could focus on. he finally saw the person he was waiting for his whole life.
just then, the door creaked open, your mother poking her head in. “honey, are you okay?” she said, seeing the weird state that ‘you’ were in. “you’ve been quiet for a while..”
wooyoung turned to the door, trying his best to act as normal as possible. “uh yeah- i mean- yeah. i’m fine..” the words fell out of his mouth before he could catch it. he wasn’t even sure why he lied.
your mother’s eyes narrowed, not believing him. “you don’t look fine, do you need medicine? or a hot water bottle?”
“a hot water bottle?” he echoed, her suggestion obviously throwing him off.
she nodded, already moving to the drawer under the sink. “yeah, you said you had cramps earlier didn’t you?”
his mind scrambled, trying to keep up with the situation. your mother pulled out a hot water bottle, filling it up before passing it off to him. “this should help. please rest, okay? you look pale.”
wooyoung nodded, muttering a soft but awkward ‘thanks’ as he accepted the bottle. when he watched your mother turn to leave, reaching for the door handle, he had the sudden urge to say something, anything.
“wait,” he blurted out, surprising himself. your mother paused, turning to wooyoung with a questioning look. he hesitated, unsure on how to begin, “i.. i’m not your daughter..”
your mother blinked, obviously not expecting that. “honey.. what did i tell you about day drinking..” she said, disappointed.
“wait what?” he chuckled softly, temporarily forgetting why his original objective of telling her about the soulmark. “i didn’t drink.”
your mother frowned, clearly confused and rightly concerned. “then what are you talking about, sweetie? you’re not making any sense..”
wooyoung took in a deep breath, trying to gather himself before continuing. “i’m.. your daughter’s soulmate..” he said slowly, trying to gauge her reaction. “there’s a soulmark that swaps soulmates bodies-“
“-ahh so she has that one..” your mother sighed, smiling slightly. “don’t worry honey, i know what you’re talking about. one of my classmates back then had that one.”
wooyoung let put a sigh of relief, thankful that your mother was so understanding. “so you know how it works?”
“mhm,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “your soulmark is a bit.. inconvenient.”
he tilted his head, prompting her to continue. “i remember seeing my friend switching at random times.. no matter where she was or what she was doing. you’ll return to your body soon but i don’t know how long it would take,” she said, rubbing her chin.
wooyoung furrowed his eyebrows. “so we switch at any time? without knowing when?”
your mother gave a sympathetic nod. “my friend never knew when it would happen. sometimes, it would last for a few hours and other times it lasted for days. don’t worry though, they always switched back.”
wooyoung started to worry. on a normal day, he actually didn’t mind switching randomly - he liked the chaos aspect of swapping bodies with his soulmate at any time. it seemed exciting, even fun. however, ATEEZ had upcoming concerts, recordings and meet-and-greets. he couldn’t afford to be caught off guard.
his stomach tightened, and not from the cramps. what if you switched during a concert? or an important recording? the thought of you being forced to step into his shoes left a sour taste in his mouth.
“i don’t know how this is going to work,” he admitted. “is there anything we can do to control it?”
your mother shook her head apologetically. “unfortunately, no. my friend and her soulmate tried to figure it out but it seems that the soulmark has a mind of its own.”
wooyoung’s shoulders slumped at her words. while he was extremely happy that his soulmark finally showed up, he didn’t know how to deal with such a complex bond. he could only imagine the confusion you felt waking up in his body.
“take it one step at a time,” your mother said gently, placing her hand on your shoulder. “the two of you will soon figure out a way to deal with this.”
wooyoung nodded slowly, grateful for her words. your mother soon turned around and closed the door after saying, “make sure to take care of my daughter’s body, hun. get some rest.”
˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆
the two of you began to swap bodies often, starting to get used to the random routine. at first, it was quite disorienting, almost like a dream-like state. but as weeks passed, the initial confusion faded.
one moment you were eating dinner with your family and the next, you found yourself standing in a practice room, surrounded by mirrors and music. you were in wooyoung’s body again.
the members were mid-practice, moving in sync with the song. the first time this happened, you couldn’t dance at all. your movements were awkward and jagged, even leading to KQ hiring a dance teacher for you. while it was embarrassing, each swap taught you how to move with more fluidity.
gradually, your body- his body, began to remember how to dance.
yunho noticed your progress. “your catching on,” he remarked after a tiring dance practice. “wooyoung would be really proud of you if he could see this.”
you simply nodded, a small smile on your face. “thanks..” you replied.
meanwhile, wooyoung was learning more and more about you with every swap. he took note of the books on your shelves, the hobbies you did and the music you listened to.
he learned that you were a big ATEEZ fan, seeing the different posters and albums you had in your room. he ended up talking to your parents a lot, listening to every story and smiling at how silly some of them were.
he loved the fact that he was slowly, but surely, understanding you.
while most of the swaps were easy, it wasn’t all fun and games. one of the worst case scenarios happened - you were pushed into wooyoung’s body during a performance. the adrenaline, the noise, it was all so overwhelming - you could feel everyone’s eyes on you.
you stumbled slightly during the dance, missing a beat here and there, but the members covered for you seamlessly.
the moment it was over, you collapsed backstage, feeling your heart pumping wildly. the other members gathered around you, congratulating you on your first performance.
when you switched back after the performance, you decided to take matters into your own hands. you couldn’t just sit still, waiting for the next random swap. you needed to see wooyoung - really see him. the only way you could think of to meet him was by attending one of ATEEZ’s upcoming meet-and-greets in Korea.
the idea seemed crazy at first, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. you already spent so much time in his world, even performing as him on stage. now, you wanted him to actually see him in person.
you talked to your mother about it, asking her for advice - in which she surprisingly agreed with. she even offered to pay for your flight to Korea and the tickets for the meet-and-greet. you gave her a long hug, thanking her gratefully, before helping her with the chores around the house.
a few days later, you found yourself nervously tapping on your keyboard. the website for the meet-and-greet just opened and you needed to get the ticket as quickly as possible.
“come on.. come on,” you muttered to yourself, your mouse hovering over the button. finally, you saw a spot open. you went through the steps and shakily typed in your information.
it wasn’t until you got the confirmation email that you let out a deep breath. you secured the ticket, and you were going to see him.
you closed your laptop and started to plan. the meet-and-greet was soon and you needed to start packing.
the days leading up to your departure passed in a blur. you and wooyoung swapped again, with him being confused at the open luggage in your room.
“where is she going?” wooyoung asked your mother.
you mother shrugged and only replied, “sleepover.”
while he didn’t fully believe that, he accepted that answer and didn’t think much about it, focusing on the different events that he had to do soon.
˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆
the morning of the meet-and-greet came faster than you thought. you were so grateful that the two of you didn’t swap at the airport or plane, after all, you didn’t want to spoil the surprise.
you woke up early, you heart already racing as you got dressed. you picked out a simple but stylish outfit, fixing your hair and putting on accessories.
in the previous swap, you told the other members about your plans and asked them to keep it a secret from wooyoung. they agreed and even asked you to wear something specific so that they could know which who you were. you showed them a photo of the outfit you would wear hoping that they could remembered it.
when you arrived at the venue, the line was already long. the place was filled with fans gushing about their biases and what they were going to gift them. you took your place among the fans, talking to some of them about how excited you were feeling.
every step closer and closer to the table made you more nervous. you looked at the order of the members and of course, wooyoung happened to be at the far end of the table. that made the anticipation of meeting him went higher, and you weren’t sure if you could handle it.
when you made sat down, hongjoong recognised your outfit and immediately knew that you were wooyoung’s soulmate. hongjoong couldn’t stop grinning uncontrollably and he told the other members that you were here.
you laughed along with them, feeling surreal that you were actually meeting them but in your own body this time.
you were one person away from wooyoung and your nerves jumped high. you could see him chatting with a fan, which made you worried about what to say to him. soon, the fan’s turn ended and you had to collect your composure quickly.
when the fan stepped away from the seat, wooyoung’s eyes met yours.
the world looked like it was drifting away. all the confusion, the swaps, led you two to this very moment.
there wad no hesitation to wooyoung’s movement. without a word, he stood up and leaned over the table, pulling you closer to him, with you gladly following. it felt as though your souls were reaching out for each other.
as your lips touched, it was almost like a bridge was formed between your lives.
in that moment, the both of you shared past memories and experiences, rushing through you like a flood. it was like you were living each other’s lives simultaneously - seeing every highs and lows.
the kiss deepened, and you saw each other’s achievements and failures, your childhood and your teenage days. every memory, every emotion and even your languages became intertwined and the both of you relished in it.
when you finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, you realised that you were still in the meet-and-greet. the fans and even the members looked at you in surprise, but somewhat expected this to happen.
wooyoung ignored the stares and focused on you, still amazed by what just happened. “you saw that too, right?”
you nodded, but you were still worried about the attention that you’ve gathered around you. “aren’t you worried about the fans?” you whispered out.
“why should i?” he asked, holing your hand. “why would i be worried when you’re here?”
That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?
👫 -> college!teez x fem!reader/oc {frat/sorority}
#️⃣ -> 11k (part one of ???)
‼️ -> 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, heavy angst, infidelity adjacent moments, mean boys, mean girls, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!
september 3rd ~ tuesday ~ 8:03 a.m.
“Up!”
A perfectly manicured hand in the shape of a fist pounded against your bedroom door, the noise funneling straight into your hungover brain, the pain sharp as you lurched forward in your sheets. Pushing your hair away, you drug your hands over your face and around your eyes, groaning at the leftover makeup that came off on your fingers. Looking down at yourself, thankfully you were in sleep clothes, but you don’t remember putting them on.
“Get up!” The fist pounded on the white wood again, four times. It was Yeji, your sororities newly elected president. She wasn’t your first choice, but your former president graduated last year. Yeji wasn’t anyone’s first choice actually, nobody voted for her or vouched for her, she was handed the position because she was the Paris Hilton of your generation.
No one dared say that to her face though, but she knew it anyway. Her great-grandfather had a shit ton of money, which meant her grandfather had a shit ton of money, which in turn left her father with a shit ton of money, and after all these years and the plethora of businesses they own… People knew who Yeji was. She was your age, twenty-one, and in your year. You’ve gone through the last two years of school with her, and now you’re a few days away from starting your third with her as your president.
“Meeting! Now! Up!” She was strutting up and down the hall, circling the staircase, and banging on your door again. The heels she already had on at eight o’clock in the morning hit the floor with a persistence, you could hear her when she rounded the wood floors once more.
A groan sounded from the bed pushed to the wall opposite of your own. “If she doesn’t shut the fuck up, I swear…” Rubbing your eyes for the second time, hoping to clean up what was left under them, you toss your rumpled sheets off your legs and slip out of bed.
“Come on,” you sighed, pulling sweatpants over your bare legs. A sleep shirt made it on, apparently pants did not. You weren’t as coherent as you thought last night. Another groan came from the bed of messy blankets and piles of pillows. “Tori,” you said, hearing the heels from the hall make their way around. Pulling your hair into something a bit nicer than whatever mess you woke up with, you take to your roommate's side and pull her blankets off of her. “She’ll be back if we don’t go out there now.”
“You’re lucky I put clothes on,” she laughed to herself, rolling over. A smile lit up her face as she stretched her arms over her head with a yawn.
Rolling your eyes you folded your arms over your chest and shrugged. “I think I’ve seen more than Mingi.” Tori squeezed her eyes shut and breathed through a laugh.
“He’s so-”
“I know.” Cutting her off, you shared a laugh with her through your glare before gesturing to the door. “Let’s go.”
Tori sat herself up and messed with her tank, yanking it toward the diamond in her bellybutton. Situating her long brown waves into the quickest, yet prettiest pony, she eyed you while you attempted to clean yourself up in the wall length mirror in between your beds.
“What’s up your ass?” She peered at the door as the high heels clicked closer.
Fixing your hair for the second time, you grit your teeth and sighed. “Nothing.”
Tori narrowed her eyes. “What’d Yunho say to you last night?”
“Nothing,” you said, turning to her once you were satisfied with your appearance. Tori has this ability to wake up and go, doing little to her hair or face, able to move on with her day. It was effortless, something you’ve been trying to achieve since high school.
She pursed her lips. “Alright, but I thought I saw-”
“Up!” Yeji’s fist hit the wood and Tori solved the issue herself.
“We are!” The shout echoed in your ears and most likely worsened either of your headaches, if she had one. She was able to bounce back like she didn’t outdrink you mere hours ago.
“All I needed.” Yeji’s passive aggressive tone seeped through the cracks of the door and sunk into your skin like needles. “Be downstairs in two minutes.” Pressing your sweaty palms to your sweats, you looked at Tori who was questioning you with a brow.
“You really don’t like her,” she said as Yeji walked away.
“Never have,” you whispered. “She didn’t earn her position. Four months ago she was chugging beer with us in ATZ’s basement, and now she’s this?” You hoped your gesture toward the door was enough, emphasizing the heels and the power she was trying to exert over you on her third day of presidency. Since you’ve been back she’s turned into a complete snob.
Tori bobbed her head, letting her eyes dance around the bedroom you’ve both turned into your own. “Yeah, she’s a bitch.”
“Always has been,” you snapped.
“You sure it’s not ‘cause-”
Turning your back to her you cut her off by pulling the door open. “Let’s go,” you said, ignoring her soft laugh.
Stepping out into the hall that wrapped around the staircase in a square, all the other doors were shut, all seven of them. The old Victorian styled home had been renovated entirely too many times that the vintage appeal was almost nonexistent. The eight rooms on this second floor had all been converted to bedrooms back in the 1990’s completely wiping it of all its historical semblance.
Chestnut brown hardwood floors infested the building, on both floors, in every room, and every wall had to have been repainted white dozens of times. The layers were apparent on the wainscotting, it was obvious there was wallpaper beneath the cheap job the previous chapter member’s tried to pull off as nice.
At least photos hung on the plain walls. The sororities history, your history, was plastered high and low for everyone to gawk at. Every year a portrait was added, since the sorority was established. You’ve been in two of them so far. The first was taken when you and Tori were freshman, two little bright eyed recruits paying your dues before you were given the chance to join as full fledged members. Sophomore year, just last year after official recruitment, you and Tori were in the first official row with Yeji a few heads over.
Last year there were ten more girls in the photo. Six had graduated this past spring, and four were freshman recruits who didn’t come back to school, or turned down their chance at recruitment. Rumor has it it’s because Yeji’s name was on the letter instead of the former president who they dealt with last semester. A rumor you chose to believe.
Only one freshman stayed. Her name was Mina, and she was exceptionally smart. Studying pre-law here at Nasara, on her recruitment registration she made a note that this school was her fathers alma mater. That fact coupled with her crazy GPA throughout her school life, she was an automatic in.
And thank god, too. As your, chosen by Yeji, Vice President, she made nine.
There were nine of you in this house when there used to be nineteen.
Sorority life was becoming some obscure way of spending your time at college, not many people wanted to do it anymore. Throughout the summer you had to hear through Ryujin, the only standing senior this year, that Yeji had been losing her mind asking her for help, some sort of direction on what to do, how to build this chapter back into what it once had been.
ITZ used to have around fifty members at all times.
This year you were down to nine.
Making sure Tori pulled the door shut behind her, not needing prying eyes in your business, the door beside yours is yanked open. In black basketball shorts and a matching sports bra Ryujin steps out with squinted eyes, glaring toward you and Tori. Messy bangs hung over her forehead, her shoulder length shaggy hair pulled behind her head in a terrible bun.
“Hey, she’s alive,” Tori joked, following you to the staircase. Smiling at Ryujin who teetered behind you, several inches shorter than Tori, just about your height, you laughed as she smacked a hand to your roommates tattooed arm.
“Didn’t think Isla would be able to resuscitate you,” you said quietly, descending the grand staircase with both of them in line with you. Ryujin drug the back of her hand over her mouth and shook her head vigorously, pointing up at Tori.
“If she didn’t make me play Jongho in flip cup I’d be fine,” she sneered from behind her teeth. Tori slung an arm around her shoulders, laughing as she did. “No!” Ryujin half laughed, trying to shove her off. Looking to you for help she said, “One on one! You know how big that motherfucker is?”
Nodding, you stepped off the bottom stair and scanned the first floor for life. “I do know how big that motherfucker is.” Voice low, eyes pointed, when you turned to face your friends you were met with a set of curious eyes and equally annoyed ones.
“What’s your problem?” Ryujin asked, letting Tori squeeze her. Anyone friends with her knew that if she was letting you touch her, you’d better get all your time in before she never let you touch her for another two weeks. Tori pressed her cheek to Ryujin’s forehead, playing up her gushiness with a hum. That triggered it. Ryujin nudged her away with her hip. “Were you sick? What happened?”
“No, I didn’t drink that much,” you breathed.
Tori tossed her arms out at her side, unaffected by Ryujin’s shove. “She hates Yeji.”
“Don’t we all?” Ryujin looked up at her. Pointing her eyes back to you she did a onceover and curled her lip. “Oh, wait, ‘cause-”
“No!” your voice echoed down the hall that stretched along both sides of the staircase. Folding her arms over her bare middle, Ryujin smirked, nodding once. Then, she was off, turning the right corner toward the sitting room.
Double doors lived on either side of you and Tori at the bottom of the stairs, ahead of you was the front door, double latched and locked always. To your left was the living room, the common area where you’d all hang out or do school work, and to your right was the dining room. A long wooden table stretched along the middle, on top of a dingy carpet bought by a chapter centuries ago it seemed. That was the only room that held the most vintage vibe, the chandelier hanging over the table was original, it was different colored stained glass and beautiful.
Down the hall to the right was the sitting room where all of the meetings happened, where Yeji had a desk and shelves and more space to do her job as if she didn’t already have a room to herself in a house with three vacant bedrooms. To the left there was the kitchen and a bathroom shoved into what would be the maids quarters if it were hundreds of years ago. The walls were layered in white paint down here as well, with more recent photos of the sorority hanging up.
“Not gonna talk about it,” Tori said for clarity. Sharpening your glare, she cringed. “Got it, alright. You won’t hear it come outta my mouth ever again.”
Groaning, you bounced your knees once and snatched her wrist, pulling her down the hallway after Ryujin, straight into the room where all of your sisters were waiting for you. The dark haired girl had already found a spot beside Isla, her roommate, on the couch pushed against the wall in the back of the room. Sporting tired eyes and a slightly mussed up slick back, Isla fought to keep her head up.
Yuna, the chapter's Treasurer, fought to keep her head up as well. Nestled into one of the sage green velvet lounge chairs with a high back, dressed in the same shirt she wore last night, she had her chin in her hand and her elbow on the velvet.
Three heads turned to watch you and Tori walk in, your roommate giggling as they spun in sync. Chaeryeong, the chapter’s Secretary, a Criminal Justice major with the cutest nose, gave you the tiniest smile. Lia, luscious black hair in Pre-Med, sat up straight on the edge of the couch to the side of Yeji’s wood carved desk. Mina was the only one to say something to you, giving you the sweetest good morning before tucking her dark brown bob behind her ears.
The three were not in attendance at ATZ's party last night.
Four if you count Yeji.
Lord knew you were not counting Yeji.
“Sisters.” The wretched voice began the second you and Tori were planted on the floor in front of Ryujin and Isla. Yeji, flipping her ombre hair over her shoulder, hair that was already curled and set into place, rounded her desk and sat in the leather chair behind it. She did already have heels on at eight in the morning, heels and little lavender sundress.
“Madam President,” Ryujin muttered, pulling a smirk out of you and a laugh from Tori. Chaeryeong flipped open a notebook she had on her lap, the click of her pen wiping your lips of any amusement.
This really was a meeting.
Yeji smiled at Ryujin, leaning onto her desk with her elbows. “Thank you, Ryujin,” she said, tone in defense. “That is what I am,” she scanned her eyes about the room, “That is the role that I am here to fill, to be a leader for you. All of you.” Chaeryeong scribbled away in her notes. “We’ve been here for three days and I’m already concerned for our future moving forward.” Tori hit you with a side eye, one you returned holding in a laugh.
Ryujin grumbled. “Yeji, what happened, can you just tell us straight up?”
“Course!” Yeji grinned, her smile somewhat sadistic. Opening the laptop that sat before her, she spun the screen around and then worked at her phone, tapping a few buttons before a video popped up on the bigger screen. Tori reached a frantic hand over and clawed your forearm.
“That’s Mingi’s Instagram story,” she whispered. “Why are we watching Mingi’s Instagram story?”
Music pumped through the speakers, familiar sounds from the night before coming back to you. Boys were shouting, girls were singing, people were dancing… Tori had a red cup to her lips, downing the contents before throwing it toward Mingi who held the phone. With a lick of her lips and a raise of both her arms she cheered for herself as Mingi praised her. She started dancing along to the music and Mingi’s voice said, “Almost caught up to me, baby,” right before the screen went black.
Tori’s grip loosened on your arm. Looking at you, then Ryujin and Isla, who had dozed off, she faced Yeji for the reason why, but your president was silent. Tapping a few things on her screen, another video played.
Yuna and her chocolate curls were posing with San, identical music blasting in the back like Mingi’s post. She stuck her tongue out and threw up a peace sign, then laughed and focused on someone off screen.
“Here.” It was Jongho’s voice. San adjusted the camera so he was still in frame, keeping Yuna and Jongho just over his shoulder. The boy showed off his jaw that could cut glass, then smiled as he watched his friends take a shot in the camera.
“God, it’s gasoline,” Yuna cringed, grabbing her mouth, dropping the cup into Jongho’s hand.
The screen went black.
The room was silent. Yuna, from the chair across the room, sent the four of you a glance, all of you collectively wondering the same thing.
Where the hell was this going?
“Yeji-”
She didn’t let Ryujin finish, she played another video.
Wooyoung’s Instagram story. Tori turned her chin to look at you this time.
His camera focused on a group of girls dancing with him, every single one of them tagged in the video somewhere. Then, he flipped it around and wore a smug grin as he weaved through the bodies congregating in his house, searching for something.
“Do you see everybody over here having a good time?!” His voice carried through the video, flipping your stomach over. His face appeared on the screen, his tan skin and his perfectly curved nose. “ATZ, baby!” He flashed his teeth and bit his lip. The camera flipped over as he approached a dark corner, and there you were.
Sitting on the arm of the leather couch with a red cup in your hand, your legs were stretched over Yunho’s lap, his arms folded over your knees. One of his frat brothers, Vernon, stood behind you, leaning over the back of the couch so he could involve himself in your conversation. He was partially spotting you where you sat, his hand occasionally tapping your back to keep you in place if you leaned back too far.
You didn’t drink that much.
“What the fuck goes on over here?” Wooyoung asked, the three of you looking up at him at once, confused. Yunho, mid sentence, shook his head and tried to smile because the camera was on him. Vernon hid his face and ducked out of frame.
“Bro, you can’t do that,” he muttered off screen.
Narrowing your eyes, you glared at him. “Fuck off.”
His gasp would’ve made you laugh if it was seven months ago. “Chill, baby, what do you mean!”
“Fuck off,” you said without a change in your face. Yunho took his lips between his teeth and glanced at your lap. Wooyoung came closer to you.
“I just wanted to ask you a question.” You could hear his pout through the screen without needing to see it. Raising a brow in response, he hit you with, “How’s your brand new president? Yeji at ITZ? Is she as good as she promised?”
“You tell me,” you said without missing a beat. Wooyoung’s laugh sent chills up your spine where you sat on the floor with Tori’s hand clamped to your wrist. “How good is President Yeji?”
The screen went black.
Chaeryeong had stopped scribbling. Mina, jaw popped open, stared at you. Lia chewed on an acrylic nail and waited for Yeji to say anything else. Ryujin tapped your shoulder with a socked foot and breathed through a laugh.
Yeji snapped her laptop shut and placed her phone on the desk. Folding her hands in front of her she pointed her fox-like eyes toward you and lowered her chin. The stance was terrifying. Her ability to tear a person apart in seconds was mortifyingly impressive. Under the impression that it was your turn, that you broke a house rule, Yeji seemed ready to unload her presidential take on the situation by kicking you out.
“Repeat after me, sisters,” she said, tone eerily calm. The three who weren’t hungover snapped up straight. “I wear ITZ letters with pride.”
Looking at Tori, you parroted Yeji’s statement. ITZ’s Mission Statement. The rules. The insane paragraph you had to memorize to get recruited. Your friend gave you the smallest shrug and focused back on the president.
“It is my mission, my duty, to honor the members of ITZ, my sisters, by living up to the standards set in place by our sisters before us. Leading by example we support, encourage, and lift our fellow sisters up. In doing so we support, encourage, and lift the world up. One person at a time. We promote unity, and friendship, while receiving a higher education, to relay to women everywhere that, ‘Yes, we can.’”
After a few minutes the room fell silent, only Yeji’s eyes scanned the faces before her. Mushing her lips together, her red lip stain, she fluttered her lashes and smiled without flashing her teeth. She gave Chaeryeong a glance and the secretary flipped open her notebook.
“Sisters, it seems we have a problem,” she sighed. Some form of a pout graced her lips. “I think we’ve forgotten what it means to be a part of a sisterhood like ITZ. We’ve felt it, haven’t we?” Lia bobbed her head. Mina took Yeji in with worried eyes. “Look around,” half the girls listened, “How many of us are here?”
“Nine,” Lia said, and Ryujin snickered.
“Nine,” Yeji smiled at the girl in front of her just to spite the senior. “Thank you, Lia.”
“You’re welcome.” She nibbled at her cuticles.
“There may be nine of us in the room, but how many of us are actually present?” Yeji looked to Yuna, then to Ryujin, then to Tori, then to you. “Aurora.” Addressing you by your full name she got you to shiver with a smidgen of fear. “Can you tell me where the five of you went last night?”
Gulping, you said just above a whisper, “ATZ.”
Yeji’s stare intensified, if it were possible. “ATZ,” she shimmied her shoulders, “How fun. What did you guys do there?”
Tori’s grip had loosened on your wrist, but she didn’t move it.
“We went to the party,” you said, keeping your eyes locked on hers. “They throw one almost every night the first week back, you’ve been-“
“You went without the rest of us knowing,” Yeji tilted her head to the side, paying no mind to the sentence she interrupted. “Were we not invited?”
Ryujin mumbled something under her breath and shifted on the couch behind you. Tori gave her a glance and a small smile.
“Everyone is invited, there’s… there’s no invites,” you narrowed your eyes. It was a college party. A college party that was basic information to everyone who attended. ATZ threw their week-long back to school ragers every single year. It was their fraternity’s tradition. Everyone at Nasara has been to an ATZ party. Even Yeji.
“Hm,” she smushed her lips together. “Guess we missed that. Did you guys have fun?” The way her brows closed in on her forehead sparked a fight or flight feeling in your gut.
Taking a breath, you smiled. “We did.” Gesturing toward her laptop, you said, “Couldn’t you tell?”
“We support, encourage, and lift our fellow sisters up,” Yeji snapped, repeating the mission statement. “None of what I saw reflected ITZ’s mission at all.” Pointing her eyes to those who attended the party, she said, “Now that we’re halfway through our first week I think it’s the perfect time to set some new rules into place. Rush is coming up, recruitment happens soon, and I’ll be damned if I acquire any more girls with the mentality half of you have. ITZ is a respectable sorority and I intend to keep it that way.”
“Is that what you were thinking when you fucked Wooyoung in Hongjoongs bed?”
Ryujin’s words suffocated you from behind. They wrapped around you and yanked you six feet under. Tori’s hand clamped down on your wrist tight. Shaking her away, she pulled her hands into her lap and shot you a look.
“ATZ is off limits!” Yeji’s voice packed a punch. Her smirk grew as gasps tumbled through most of your lips. “We are through with them.”
“How? They’re literally the brother frat, Yej.” Ryujin sat forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. Her version of an apology.
Tori lifted a hand. “I work with Mingi, how am I supposed to do my job?”
Clenching her jaw, Yeji took a breath through her nose and attempted a normal smile. “We’ll do our jobs. We’ll throw the mixers, the dinners. We’ll host the fundraisers together. We’ll do it all. But, under no circumstances will any member of ITZ ever be seen with a member of ATZ.” Not a soul attempted to counteract, not even Ryujin. “ATZ is off limits. No parties. No sex. No posts. Nothing.”
september 3rd ~ tuesday ~ 12:47 p.m.
Mina sat at the end of the dining room table, a book in one hand and a pencil in the other as she scribbled into a notebook while her eyes scanned the text. The title on the leather bound book was illegible, completely worn off by years and years of use. She’s clung to this same book for a year now, she’s been seen with it since she started here, it came with her from home.
“And I don’t know what the fuck her problem is,” Yuna whispered beside Tori, leaning toward Ryujin sitting across from her. “Ever since we’ve been back she’s been so uptight.”
Mina paid no mind to the whispers happening a few feet from where she studied. The table was long enough to provide ample space for everyone, the sophomore was often found here working her time away. Her brown bob laid effortlessly at her chin, curving a bit outward, showcasing her beauty.
“She’s already had me run through our plan for the year, like, eighteen fucking times,” Yuna bugged her eyes out of her head and Tori snickered. “She’s driving me nuts!”
Ryujin cocked her head toward you. “You and Aurora could swap complaints.”
“I have nothing to say,” you whispered, shoving a nail between your teeth, keeping your focus on Mina. It was as if she was in the room alone, like she was used to background noise. Lifting a finger to flip a page in her ancient book, she used the same finger to tuck her hair behind her ear, then glanced to her paper to circle something she wrote earlier.
She spoke when spoken too, but not out of punishment, or fear of. She was study focused, always, you’ve all learned since she was in high school. Her GPA was higher than every being’s at this very table. The girl was a genius, she was quick witted, but not only that, she was kind.
The chatter ensued around you.
“Well, what does Isla have to say about this?” Tori asked Ryujin, twirling her wavy hair around a finger. There had been plenty of time after the meeting for you all to process what had happened, and to shower. Tori made it a point to blow dry her hair, curl it, and gloss her lips, snapping a selfie in the mirror between your beds to send to Mingi.
Ryujin, with her feet on the chair, shrugged her shoulders. Her shaggy hair hung at her shoulders now. “Fuck if I know,” she said. “She’s been worse than last year. Even this summer, I can’t remember when she wasn’t drunk.”
Yuna furrowed her brows. “Is it still her brother?”
Ryujin shook her head, glancing to her bare knees before she said, “It’s never been about that, they’re close. I mean, he’s far away, we all know that, so… Maybe it is DK.”
“She was the one who chose to go to school here,” Tori said, pursing her lips, leaning onto the table on an elbow. “Maybe she should’ve gone closer to him.”
“She came to Nasara to do something for herself,” Ryujin lowered her chin. “What did she tell you all at recruitment, you all were there with her. She wants to be her own person, not be forced into the ‘I have a famous older brother’ box. Her grades weren’t bad last semester, but she hasn’t had a sober minute since she’s been here. Last night Vernon and I couldn’t keep her on her feet.”
“Vernon plays baseball,” Tori said matter of factly, and Ryujin bobbed her head. “Does he know DK?”
“Everyone knows DK,” Yuna smirked, tapping Tori’s ankle with her sandal. “That's why all the boys can’t leave her alone.”
Tori’s expression pulled into one of worry, her eyes darting between Ryujin and Yuna. “That’s… not good.”
“Vernon usually ends up around her,” Ryujin said. “He’s a safe dude, and a huge help. He doesn’t really drink too much, he’s like Yunho.”
Mina peered up, curiosity in her eyes. You glanced away quickly, looking at your friends.
“Yunho’s a safe guy, too,” Tori nodded, and Yuna agreed. Turning to you, your roommate asked, “You were hanging with him last night?”
Taking a breath, you hummed in response, feeling Mina’s eyes on you. “We were hanging, yeah.”
Tori smiled, then sat back in her seat and glanced toward the sophomore at the end of the table. “Mina, you agree, don’t you?”
The girl blushed in real time, right here in front of you all. The old book found the table, and she smiled. “I wasn’t listening… Sorry. What did you say?”
“Yunho,” Tori said, and Mina smiled wider. “You were so listening, silly.” Yuna laughed, finding it all too cute. “Go ahead, how is he?”
Shifting in her seat, Mina folded her hands over her lap and studied the room, then met eyes with each of you. “He’s very nice,” she said, voice as gentle as snow when it falls. “I’ve never met anyone like him. That probably sounds insanely naive, but it’s the truth.”
“Not naive, I think it’s sweet,” Ryujin said. Yuna and Tori shot her a look and she laughed. “What?”
“Miss big, scary, lesbian, hates men and all relationships thinks it’s sweet!?” Tori’s tone had you all laughing, even Mina.
Ryujin rolled her eyes. “It’s sweet,” she said, shooting Tori a look before she turned back to Mina. “You guys are made for each other, I swear.”
The smile that washed over the sophomore tugged at your heart.
“He came to my house this summer,” she said, eyes full of adoration. “He met my parents, my brothers… We all had dinner together, and then we went out to a park to watch the sunset, and we just… talked.” The four of you were silent watching her relive her summer night in real time. Tori and your friends wore the smallest of smiles, but her words churned your stomach over. “We shared so much with each other,” she nodded, then shook her head, “I trust him. He doesn’t care that I don’t like the parties, or that I don’t drink… He kissed me that night.”
Tori’s gasp threw you all backward, then straight into fits of laughter.
“Fuckin’ Christ!” Yuna shouted, whacking a hand at her arm.
“I’m sorry!” Tori clamped a hand to her neck, throwing her head backward. “It’s so innocent and cute!”
Ryujin almost snorted. “Nothing like you, I fucked him when I met him!”
Reaching across the table, slapping a hand onto the wood, Tori’s eyes went wide, her grin even wider. “I did, you know what? And I have NO shame about it!”
“Yeah, well, hope you fucked him last night ‘casue now there won’t be any of that anymore,” Ryujin crossed her arms. Tori’s face fell. The way she sat backward and looked at her lap made you pop out your lip. Taking a hand to her shoulder she leaned into your touch and shot you her puppy dog eyes.
“Ror, what about you?” she asked, then she blew air out of her glossy lips and blinked. “You’re probably happy with these rules now, aren’t you?”
Eyeing the girls around the table, everyone curious aside from Mina who turned back toward her work, you took a deep breath and shrugged. “I like ATZ parties,” you nearly whispered. “I really think this is going to suck.” Gesturing toward Yuna and Tori with a nod, you said, “Plus, you two still have to try to work with them, so I don’t understand how any of this is going to work out.”
“Yeji’s insecure,” Ryujin spat. She pointed her dark eyes at you. “But, I do think if you didn’t say what you said… On video… For Wooyoung’s thirty thousand followers to see… We wouldn’t have to deal with this.”
Turning in your chair to face her, you screwed your brows together and cocked your chin. “I’m to blame!?” You tossed a hand toward your friends to your right. “These two were on video, too! I wasn’t making a total fool of myself.”
“Hey,” Tori frowned, nudging your leg with hers. You gave her and Yuna an apology with your eyes, then sighed heavily. “Maybe you should talk to Yeji and sort this out.”
“How?” you rolled your head backward and almost let out a groan. “She’s doing it on purpose. Now that she’s got this power she’s going to control us all, turn us into her little minions. I told Yunho last night that ITZ was gonna turn into Yeji-TZ.”
“Where’d you guys disappear to? I couldn’t find you until you told me you were ready to leave.” Tori met your eyes as you breathed.
“Outside. The noise was nauseating, Wooyoung pissed me off, and I had too much on my mind.”
Your roommate reached over and smoothed a hand over yours. “Valid,” she said, pulling her lips into a tiny frown.
“She wants a better image for us,” Ryujin said, going over what had been discussed in the meeting this morning. “She wasn’t wrong, we need more girls. I’m a little worried about what recruitment is going to look like this year.” The senior looked at Mina. “We need more girls like that.”
The door to the dining room pushed open with force, the glass windows rattling as it swung into the white wall. Isla, freshly showered, but still staggering on her feet, wandered around the table to Ryujin’s side, where the senior pulled a chair out for her.
“And less like this,” she whispered with a nod toward Isla. “Just watch what you guys say, especially on social media.” Ryujin wrapped an arm around Isla who leaned on her shoulder. “As much as I deliberately hate following rules… It’s Yeji. She’ll do anything to look good. Keep your mouths shut about her and once recruitment is done we’ll be back in ATZ’s basement. I’m sure of it.”
Tori pulled her phone out of her pocket and smiled at a message.
Mingi.
The two weren’t officially dating, but if freshman and sophomore year taught any of you guys anything, it was that Tori and Mingi were exclusively for one another, and that made this new ATZ Off Limits Rule all the more annoying. Yeji knew Tori and Mingi had a thing, Yeji knew that Mina and Yunho were on the start of something.
The start of something great. The start of something that yanked your heart into the depths of yourself because you were onto the start of something great your sophomore year.
Something great that Yeji swooped into the middle of and messed up.
For weeks he was after you. Teasing you, flirting with you for hours at ATZ parties, challenging you to drinking games, wanting to be paired up with you for fundraisers and events. He made it a point to be the first to send you a text on your birthday, and then to be the first one to post about it. He beat Tori by seven minutes.
You knew he was trouble, he had a reputation.
Wooyoung was the only member of ATZ to have bad rumors about him circling Nasara’s campus. But, it was the typical shit one would automatically assume. He didn’t call a girl back after they slept together, or he flirted his way into getting a girl to do his homework for him only to sleep with her and never call her again, or how he almost got a professor fired because they allegedly had an affair so his grades would go up.
Everyone is pretty certain that last one is false, but you’ve never heard him publicly deny it.
Either way, you ignored all the red flags he was blatantly waving in your face. Weeks into his games, you fell. Hard. Under the impression that he had fallen too, obviously the reason why he was playing these games with you, you opened yourself up to the idea of him, the idea of being with him, and your heart loved it. Legitimately loved it. Your friends at ITZ were excited for you, and some of the boys you were close with at ATZ were into it too. Though one warned you, Yunho, you took it upon yourself to ignore him.
You could trust Wooyoung. The way he looked at you, the way his hands would linger on you, how he’d shower you with compliments and turn you into a blushing, giggling mess… You could trust him.
Until you couldn’t.
ATZ threw a party the night before Spring Break, just months ago, at the beginning of this year. All of ITZ was in attendance, even Mina, the wide eyed freshman recruit who quickly found comfort at Yunho’s side. It was hours into the night, drinks had gone down too easy, everyone was exhausted and ready for break, and you were about to leave with Tori in hand. Searching for Wooyoung, asking every person you passed if they’d seen him, they shrugged and sent you on your way.
Yunho, sitting on the stairs with Yeosang and Seonghwa, was the one to press his lips together and nod behind him. Dragging Tori along with you, she pinched Yeosang’s cheek on the way up and ruffled his wavy hair. Calling out for Wooyoung, pushing every door on the second floor open, they were all empty, so you trekked up to the third, spinning up another staircase. Tori was babbling on about the fun she and Mingi were having when you pushed Hongjoongs door open at the same time Yeji was yanking it open.
Tori’s laugh of disbelief had never been louder.
Behind Yeji’s devious smirk and trashed composure, Wooyoung stood there shirtless, zipping up his jeans. Unfazed, he had glanced up at the opening of the door and smirked as well. He pulled his shirt over his head and brushed past between you, making a god awful joke about how three girls were after him now, being sure to look down at you with purpose before returning to the party.
The rest of the semester went as expected. Short, sweet, and fast. Or, it was just that you were so focused on ignoring almost everybody that it felt that way. You took your finals, Yeji was appointed future president, and you and Tori packed your room up.
You only attended one ATZ party after the return from Spring Break, one you hovered around Yunho at. The go-to would be Tori, but she and Mingi were attached at the hip, it was impossible to get between them.
“You didn’t tell him what happened did you?” Ryujin looked at Tori’s phone, to which your roommate cringed. “Oh, Tor, come on.” Yuna sighed with the senior.
Tori clicked her tongue and half laughed. “What was I supposed to do? I tell him everything!”
“As disgustingly sweet as that is, you were supposed to not tell him,” Ryujin said, looking your way. “Least not until Aurora fixes this.” The look you gave her made her laugh. “Just go say you’re sorry or something, kiss her ass.”
“Ryujin, I’d rather kiss yours,” you smized, and Isla showed signs of life with a giggle. “Oh, she’s conscious.” Isla picked her head up and flashed you her dazzling smile.
“I am,” she said. “I don’t remember last night.” The four of you swallowed your smiles for her sake and simply voiced your concerns with quiet sounds that got her to giggle again. “Think I’m still drunk or somethin’.”
Ryujin took the hand of the arm around her roommate and gently laid her head back on her shoulder. “Close your eyes, Jagiya.”
Yuna’s mouth fell open. “Don’t call her that.”
“She’s the only one… who can,” Isla mumbled, slapping a hand against the table, startling Mina who glanced up from her book for all of two seconds. “Stupid ass name,” she muttered, her eyes shut, full thick lashes splayed out on her smooth as silk cheeks. “Stupid famous parents… Naming stupid ass kids… Brother gets Seokmin, now he’s Dokyeom… What do I get?”
“She’s not okay,” you whispered, and Ryujin shook her head. “What can we do?”
Things were quiet for all of eight seconds, until Mina spoke up.
“It could be a good thing,” she said, catching all of your eyes except Isla’s. She blinked and gulped. “The ban.” Her volume dropped exponentially. “The ATZ ban. Even though I know you’ve got…” she gestured to Tori, then herself, “We’ve got… Boys. It gives Isla a break from parties, and gives us more time here, right?” Yuna spared a glance toward the three of you, gauging how you were supposed to react. “We can all help her get back on track. I know a few easy ways to start the process.”
Yuna pursed her lips. “How?”
Mina put down her book. “My mom. She’s been sober for a really long time though, but she’s been open with me and my brothers about her struggle. It’s like a literal gene that can get passed down, so any of us could have it. My two older brothers have a different dad, and he’s a former addict, so they’re doubly careful, but… I think I can work something out to help Isla.” The small smile she gave all of you felt like a sin after what she had just spilled.
Ryujin moved Isla’s hair from her face, the girl's breathing having gotten heavier since she laid down. Giving Mina a smile, she nodded in appreciation. “I think that’d be awesome.”
Mina nibbled her bottom lip, picking her book up. “You’re not as scary as you appear to be.” Laughing with Yuna and Tori, the three of you lost it as Ryujin’s jaw fell open. The sophomore, smug as ever, focused on her notes.
“Not as scary as I appear to be,” Ryujin repeated in a whisper to herself. “Noted.”
september 3rd ~ tuesday ~ 11:19 p.m.
“I can’t believe he hit thirty thousand followers over the summer,” Tori mumbled from where she was splayed over her bed. Laying on her back, her long brown hair fanned out behind her, she scrolled on her phone, tapping away at the screen. “They go up little by little everyday.”
“You keep checking?” Lifting your eyes from the schedule in your hand you laughed as she shot you a cheesy smile. She rolled to her side, her hair brushing over her bare shoulders. The tank she put on for bed was dark blue and had Nasara and ITZ on the front in white graffiti letters. Half of last year's car wash fundraiser outfit.
“He’s the first out of all of us to hit thirty thousand, Ror,” she said to you like you were out of the loop, like you too weren’t actively watching Wooyoung’s Instagram all summer.
Glancing at your schedule, the many bullet points of assignments and work needing to be done by the end of the semester plaguing you with a knot in your chest, you sighed and shook your head. “Vernon has almost fifty thousand, Tor.”
“He’s a baseball player, Ror,” she narrowed her eyes. “And he’s being scoped out by so many MLB teams right now. He’s only a junior and these managers want to pull him out of school so he can play for them. That’s how good he is.”
You gave her a glance, circling the assignment for an essay in the middle of the second sheet you held onto. “You sure do know a lot about Vernon.”
Tori focused back on her phone and giggled at something. Typing a mile a minute, she tucked her hair behind her ear and adjusted the stud in her nose before looking back up at you. “I just ask questions.” You met her gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Not for social advancement, Aurora, because I care, that’s why.”
A smile pricked at your lips, one that made her whine and tip her head backward. “I’m just saying! All of the guys at ATZ have always had more attention on social media. And, for the record, he’s not the first to hit thirty thousand, Yeji hit thirty thousand followers when she was like, in high school, or something. She’s closer to two hundred thousand.”
Tori flopped onto her back and turned her attention to her phone. “Whatever, I wasn’t counting her. She’s on a whole different level than any of us are.”
“Unfortunately,” you grumbled, flipping through the rest of your schedule.
Tori lifted her head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
You shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. No one has to mean it like that, no matter what it’s gonna hurt.”
Putting her phone down she sat back up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed, the fluffy comforter shifting beneath her. “When are we going to talk about it?”
“Never.”
“Ror, you gotta talk about it,” she said, sliding to her feet. Padding over to your side she sat on your bed and tucked her feet beneath her. She snatched the syllabus from your hands and tossed it to the floor, the pages unraveling, spreading all over the carpet. Ignoring your protests, she grabbed onto your shoulder. “I am not going to spend the rest of this year pretending that last semester didn’t happen. He hurt you.”
Jolting at her words, you turned your glare to ice. “He did not hurt me.”
She pitied you with her eyes. “He led you on… For months. He did things, and said things to you that-”
“That don’t matter!” The cackle that tumbled from your lips had her tilting her head to the side. “The things he said don’t matter, he didn’t mean them! We can drop it! I get it!”
Tori took her hand away from you and folded it in her lap over her smooth tan legs. Nodding, she pursed her lips and looked at your papers on the floor. “Okay,” she breathed, hopping off your bed to clean up the mess she made. Trying to shuffle the papers into some kind of order, she put them in your outstretched hand and crossed her arms over her middle. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. We’ll find you somebody else, you at least deserve to get laid, it’ll help with this,” she gestured toward you, “Bitchiness.” The word came out of her in an almost whisper.
Pushing a quiet laugh through your lips, you shook your head. “Don’t worry, I-”
A knock from the window behind you, the only window in the room next to your bed, sent you flying to your feet. Heartbeat skyrocketing into the atmosphere, you grabbed onto Tori and whipped yourself around to face the glass while she laughed.
“Who the fuck!?”
“I told him not to knock,” Tori said, calm as can be.
A silly smile watched you both. Dark hair pushed to the side and an earring dangling from one ear, the black, form fitting t-shirt he wore clung to his chest, the silver chain around his neck just meeting the collar. Beautiful honey skin and deep, big brown eyes full of pure, innocent joy.
Mingi.
Turning your chin up to look at Tori who was grinning like a sap, you smacked her arm and pulled her out of her daydream. “What the hell is he doing here?” Shushing you, Tori wiggled herself out of your grasp and leapt onto your bed on her knees. “How the hell did he get up here?!” Shushing you again, Tori maneuvered the window open and crawled out onto the rooftop. “What the hell is going on!” Now it was Tori and Mingi who shushed you.
“Come here,” Tori said, waving you toward her. Looking at your bedroom door, you took a breath and rushed toward it to click the lock into place.
“This is so stupid,” you muttered, climbing onto your bed and out onto the roof of the porch below. Tori and Mingi were sitting closer to the edge. It wasn’t too steep, if anything it was pretty flat, but the ledge was still intimidating. Using your hands and feet you brought yourself closer and stopped beside Tori. “Can someone tell me what is going on?”
“Hi, Rora,” Mingi said to you with a smile, leaning in front of Tori to tap a fist to your arm. His deep, lively voice typically captivated you, but close to the edge of the roof like this you didn’t have much energy to appreciate it.
“Hey, Mingi,” you sighed, digging your fingernails into the shingles underneath you. Tori had her fingers on Mingi’s jewelry, toying with it, not caring she had her feet hanging off the edge of a rooftop.
“These new rules of yours are interesting,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Yeji seems like she’s so much fun.”
“Oh, the funnest,” you half laughed, keeping your body still. “Is that why we’re on the roof right now?”
“Yeah,” Mingi gave you a lazy smile, then answered to Tori who whispered something unintelligible to him. He put a hand on her cheek and nodded his head, his brows furrowing low as he reassured her. Looking back to you, he said, “We wanted to see for ourselves if it was true.” He laid his head over Tori’s and smiled. “Sometimes this one’ll make shit up and I can’t tell if she’s for real or not.”
“Hey!” Your roommate nudged his head away and tapped his solid chest. Mingi looked down at her and laughed, leaning in to press kisses to her cheek. They really were the cutest, both able to match each other in energy and wit. They fit together, they always have. They made sense.
Gulping, glancing away around at the ground, your eyes scanned the green grass. “We?” you asked, feeling your confidence take a slight nosedive.
Where there was Mingi, there was a-
“Hey!”
Startling both you and Tori, fluffy, dusty brown hair and glasses popped up underneath the edge of the roof. The most endearing sideways smile accompanied his bright eyes.
Where there was a Mingi, there was a Yunho.
Tori, ecstatic, reached a hand out to mess with his hair. “Yo! I didn’t know you were coming with him.”
Whipping your head, your glare made her giggle. “You knew they were coming?” you sneered through your teeth.
“I knew Mingi was coming,” she said, biting down on her bottom lip as she nuzzled her head under his strong chin.
“Wonderful,” you whispered, turning your focus back to the boy hanging off the roof. Behind his glasses he studied you. His eyes were as dark as Mingi’s, but not as dark as Wooyoung’s. Yunho’s had life, stories to tell, and they were sweeter than chocolate.
“Hi, Rory,” he said quietly, adjusting himself so that his broad shoulders were in sight. Wearing a t-shirt himself, it didn’t quite cling to him like Mingi’s, but it still definitely caught your eye.
“Hi, Yunho,” you breathed, ignoring the smirk that started to grow on his lips courtesy of your wandering gaze. Narrowing your eyes just slightly, he wiped the smug look in an instant. “What are you doing on my roof?”
“Came to say hi,” he said, elbows spreading out to the side to keep his balance. By now Tori and Mingi were lost in their own little kisses and whispers to care what you and Yunho were discussing.
“Cute.” You tilted your head and held eye contact with him for another few seconds until you had to break away. He was intense. A certified genius with a mind so deep you’d need centuries to figure him out. He was on a different level of the world, he always was, and he always has been, ever since you met him.
Almost like Mina.
Pure, sweet, kindhearted Mina.
“We were talking about you today,” you said and laughed internally as his expression wilded out. “Me and my girls.” He wore his wide eyes with pride, the expression never changing until you said, “With Mina.” Then, he shifted into a display of softness, like the mention of her name cured everything wrong within him.
“How is she?” he asked, his melodic voice as gentle as the lashes that brushed his skin.
Sliding your hands over your ankles you held his focus and nodded. “She’s great,” you whispered, and he released a breath. “She’s disappointed with the new rule, of course, she can’t see you anymore.” Yunho clenched his jaw. “We heard about your amazing summer, Yo, you’re a proper gentleman, you know that?”
“Oh my god!” Tori exclaimed, reaching a hand over to grab onto one of Yunho’s wrists. The wide eyed boy snapped his neck to look at her, escaping your scrutiny. “You’re the cutest, ever! Spending time with Mina’s family? Treating her so good? Yo, you win. This year, at least.” Tori, with a gasp, whirled back to her boyfriend. “We have to do the Sweethearts Formal. It’s official.”
Mingi smiled, brushing a few fingers over Tori’s hair. “Whatever you want, babe, you tell me what to do.”
“We’ll do it after recruitment,” Tori spoke with her hands, gesturing toward every single one of you at some point, “That way we’ll have more guests, but we can open it up to the entire campus.” Mingi’s eyes lit up watching her speak. “Pay an entry fee, experience Greek life for a night, and we’ll make it spectacular, then they’ll be interested and want to join.”
Mingi threw an arm around her back and pulled her close, pressing a hefty kiss to her lips. “My girl’s a genius,” he sighed when they parted, sending a glance over her shoulder toward you and Yunho. He lingered on his friend for a few seconds longer.
“We’ll have ITZ and ATZ there,” Tori said. “Everyone has to have a date.” Grazing Mingi’s chin with her thumb she smized. “You are mine,” she glanced behind her, “Yo can bring Mina.” Then, she faced you. “We’ll find you a date,” she bobbed her head. “Don’t worry.”
Squinting at her, you mumbled, “I wasn’t worried,” and Yunho huffed a laugh.
Tori turned to Mingi, their noses nearly touching. “What about Seonghwa, isn’t he available?”
Yunho cleared his throat. “He met someone at the end of last semester, pretty sure he’s taken.”
“And I’d love to not be in cahoots with the Vice President,” you said.
Tori frowned. Mingi eyed his friend. “Damn, okay, well what about Yeosang?”
“I dunno if he’ll be into it,” Yunho curled his lip and Tori sighed audibly.
“You’re not making this easy, Yo,” she said. “We may as well just pair you with Wooyoung, Ror.”
You met Yunho’s eyes in a flash, the two of you looking away from one another just as fast. “No thanks,” you said.
Tori pouted, her bottom lip poking out. Lifting a hand she messed with your hair and said, “We’ll figure something out.”
The air went quiet. A sickness started to settle into your gut. With the happy couple beside you and Yunho in front of you, nothing about right now would make it go away.
“I need some water,” you mumbled, using your hands and your feet to scoot backward toward your open window. All three of your friends followed you with their gazes, two heads turning while another watched with the tiniest frown.
“Will you come back?” Tori asked, hope written on her face.
Swinging your legs into the window, feet planted on your blankets, you shook your head. “Nah, I have to get ready for bed.”
“Okay,” Tori smiled.
“Night, Rora,” Mingi said, giving you one of his infamous silly grins. With a wave toward him you smiled, then glanced at Yunho. You didn’t want to decipher what he was telling you with the worry in his brows.
You slipped onto your bed without a second thought and hopped to the floor, hurrying for the door without a look back.
Shutting it with ease so as to not wake the entire house, your bare feet took you down the grand staircase into the dimly lit first floor. Eerie at night, the usual creaks didn’t spook you, your mind was too occupied with thoughts of the boy dangling off your roof.
The nice boy, the good boy, Yunho.
The one you’ve been close with since you joined ITZ and he was being recruited into ATZ. Freshman year you had one class together, a mandatory Literature class he blew through with shining colors and outstanding marks. You’d meet up to do homework, to share notes, to practice readings with one another. Yunho quickly became a close friend, and Greek life only brought you closer.
He’s a genuine person, he always kept his word, sometimes annoyingly so. At parties he’d be the one to stay sober, or the one to only drink a little to help keep the peace. He was ATZ’s Secretary, it was his duty.
But, when Hongjoong, their president, told him he could let go and enjoy himself on certain nights, boy did he let go and enjoy himself.
Turning the corner at the bottom of the stairs you tiptoed toward the kitchen, surprised to find the light above the sink on. Every other light was out, and Mina was sitting on the edge of the island counter. You thanked your lucky stars that your bedroom was on the other side of the house, otherwise she’d have seen the boys sneaking up.
Her back was to you. Wearing silky pink pajamas, a tank and shorts, she sat with perfect posture and a little bowl of ice cream at her side. The slight wave in her short hair told you she had washed it, letting it air dry in place. Imperfectly.
It almost felt wrong to see her in such a state. But, that wasn’t why your stomach churned.
“Hey, Mina,” you said gently, hoping not to scare her. Turning the slightest bit, her bare face gave you a smile. She was so naturally beautiful. “Don’t mean to intrude.” Rounding the island made of old, green chipped painted wood and marble tops, she took a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and slid you the bowl.
“Have some,” she said, taking her fingers to the hem of her shorts. The ballerina painted tips caught your eye. Every detail so put together, so meticulous and strategic, but in the purest way possible.
Looking down at the white ceramic full of a scoop of vanilla ice cream, you breathed a laugh. Sensing your hesitancy, Mina took the end of the spoon and put a bit of the desert on it, holding it up to feed it to you. She moved with intent, always. A type of sincerity you’ve yet to experience until you met her.
“My mom would share a scoop of ice cream with me and my brothers before bed almost every single night,” she said. With that, you took the spoon and let the sweet vanilla kiss your tongue. “It was our thing, the five of us.” You listened to her talk, admiring how comfortable she felt to be able to share these family things with you. “My dad, he would be so funny,” her small laugh made you smile, “He’d act surprised every time, like he wasn’t catching us doing it every night.”
Giving her the spoon, she took it and made herself a scoop, popping it between her lips without care that you’d just eaten from it.
“Do you do this every night?” you asked, propping your chin in your hand. Mina licked her lips that always seemed to rest in a smile, and nodded.
“You’re the first to catch me,” she said, moving her foot to tap your thigh with her toes. Sharing in a quiet laugh with her, you took the spoon as she handed it to you. “Have some more, it feels weird to eat it alone.”
“Okay,” you whispered, taking a spoonful, “But only ‘cause you said so.” Mina folded her hands and her feet together, letting them swing off the edge, her legs polished and smooth like the rest of her. After a bite you looked up at her and asked, “Do you miss them? Your family?”
She thought to herself for a moment and shifted her focus to her manicure. “When I’m here I do.” Looking at you, she blinked a few times. “That’s why I wanted to join a sorority. When you live in a house barely big enough for all of the people inside of it, moving to a giant campus where you know nobody is scary.”
“Valid,” you whispered, giving her the spoon so she could take her turn.
“It was the six of us, always,” she continued, scooping away at the ice cream. “With the occasional Uncle, or my older brothers’ dad, or their cousins… The house was always… full. I loved it. Me and Wonwoo, you know, even though these people weren’t our blood relatives, we loved them. They were family.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I think I was looking for that when I joined here. To live under one roof with you girls. I didn’t get to grow up with sisters. It’s nice to have so many of you around.”
Putting the spoon down, unsure of who’s turn it was, you gave her a look and half a smile. “I love your life,” you said, and a lump began to form in your throat. “You’re… real.” Mina, flustered, looked down at the floor. “I’m serious,” you giggled. “Most of these girls here come from money, or they’ve got fans on Instagram, and some only care about scamming their way to the top and being the best… But, you’re here ‘cause you want to do better for yourself.”
Mina adjusted her posture. “I do,” she whispered. “My dad went here, he graduated from here. I want to do what he did, I want to be what he is.”
“He sounds like a good man,” you said ever so quietly and her face lit up.
“He’s incredible,” she whispered. Taking her hand to her lips, she held back a laugh.
“What?” you questioned, smiling with her.
Shaking her head she let the giggle loose. “You don’t wanna know what I thought of… What I have been thinking of.”
With that sort of laugh, you knew exactly what she was thinking of.
“Tell me,” you tried to maintain your smile.
Pressing her lips together, her giddy grin had an innocent, childlike feel to it. A school girl with a crush.
“He reminds me of him, a little,” she said, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her silky shorts once more. “Yunho,” she whispered, nodding. “And I know it could be weird to say he reminds me of my dad, but I think… I think every girl looks for that, doesn’t she?”
Taking in what she’s said, you hummed, then gave your shoulders a shake. “I’m my dads only daughter. His only child. I’m pretty sure he wanted me to be a boy, and it’s shown my entire life.” Mina pouted. “Oh, no, I don’t want sympathy. Please, don’t.” Grabbing onto the spoon you messed with the melted ice cream in the bowl, eyes focused on it.
“Okay,” Mina said. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”
You huffed a laugh, letting go of the spoon, the rattling of the ceramic sending a jolt down both your spines. “You come from a family that does that, talks about it. I don’t.” Meeting her eyes, you longed to shy away from this conversation. “I’ll be okay.”
She nodded, averting her gaze elsewhere. It was quiet for a few seconds, then she asked, “Can I ask you something?”
Taking a deep breath, you let it out more harshly than anticipated. “Of course,” you said. Maybe talking about your family would be easy with Mina. Dissecting your childhood or the way you were raised was reserved for therapy, somewhere you hadn’t been since high school. You weren’t a fan, you had no intentions of going back. Mina made it seem easy though, it could be possible this was all you needed. A listening ear. She was nice enough.
“You were with Yunho at the party last night,” she said, sending your entire nervous system into fight or flight. Maintaining face, praying to God you didn’t react, you simply bobbed your head in answer.
You were with Yunho at the party last night. Yunho was the first person you attached yourself to last night. Yunho was the only one looking for you last night. Yunho was the one you stepped outside with last night, because the noise was nauseating, Wooyoung pissed you off, and you had too much on your mind.
“I didn’t want to ask earlier because everyone was around, and I’m not sure I need them all to know my business right now, especially when this Yunho thing is still… up in the air,” she babbled on and on. “It’s just that… We had such an amazing summer.”
You had a somewhat amazing summer, too.
“We went on so many dates, he took me everywhere I wanted to go,” she sighed between thoughts. “He had a great time with my family, my brothers, he understood us, how we were. He… kissed me.” Your heart skipped a beat. She blushed when she looked at you, and you wanted to crawl into a hole. “He didn’t push me farther than I wanted to go. He was respectful.”
Breath was caught in your throat.
“I thought it was too good to be true,” she laughed, kicking her feet. “You know frat boys, the stereotype they’re forced into. Sleazy, sneaky… Not him. Not Yunho.”
Yes, him.
Yes, Yunho.
She still had a question to ask you.
“Then, what’s up?” Trying your utmost hardest to keep your voice from shaking, you smiled at her when she looked over at you.
“He hasn’t… reached out,” she said. “Since we were preparing to come back, and since we’ve been back… I’ve barely heard from him.” Her brown eyes were shining in the single overhead light. “I guess I just wanted to ask you if he was okay? In the video’s… I saw you with him, so I just wanted to see if you knew anything.”
Swallowing hard, you gave her a shrug of your shoulders, feeling the walls of the kitchen tighten around the two of you. “I don’t… I dunno. He seemed okay to me. I’m sorry, Mina.”
She looked at the floor. “It’s okay,” she said. “Just figured I’d ask.”
“Give him time,” you said quickly, sliding out a hand to touch her wrist. “Maybe coming back has just been a lot, they’re going through the same stuff we are. We need recruitment to go well, for everybody.”
With the smallest smile Mina glanced at you. “You’re right. Thank you.”
And as the nerves roiled in your belly, you released her wrist and gave her your best smile. “Anytime.”
NU home ✧ nice for what masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3
you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.
Synopsis ~ Wooyoung accidentally bought a feral omega on the street. Jongho is a recently presented alpha who struggles with his unstable pheromones. There are a few bad ideas, and you and Jongho can't stop pawing at each other.
Pairings ~ alpha!jongho x omega!fem!reader x omega!wooyoung
Word count ~ 15.3k
Genre / warnings ~ NSFW/EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, omegaverse, smut, drama, fluff, they are idols, cursing, human (omega) trafficking, hongjoong gets angry a lot, reader is not of sound mind for a lot of it, sexual acts without actual consent from either parties (idek how else to put it), there will be consent, dry humping, kissing, scenting, growling, bratty behavior, reader and Jongho are obsessed with each other, poor Wooyoung has to deal with it, first time knotting, threesome, teasing, boy kissing, woojong sex
MINORS DNI ! ! !
mwa ᯓᡣ𐭩
“Okaay, I get it,” Wooyoung grumbled, walking slowly behind his manager through the empty street. His phone vibrated in his tight grip as he tried to play a smile for the camera being held to his face.
“Don’t mess it up this time,” Seonghwa nagged, mumbling more nonsense that the mic wouldn’t pick up unfortunately. Atiny should’ve really seen how annoying he was.
“Yeees, I get it, I’ll be careful.”
“And don’t growl at anyone. They’re not your friends,” he mumbled, almost embarrassed to bring something like that up.
Wooyoung scoffed. “It’s not like anyone’s intimidated by an omega’s growl. I’m just being playful.”
Seonghwa was just about done uselessly preparing Woo for his event when he actually heard a growl from the other end.
“Wooyoung, I’m being completely serious,” he said, glancing at his phone in disbelief.
“I’m being serious too,” he giggled, then quickly stopped as another growl vibrated through the phone.
“Wooyoung-!”
“Shh, Hyung,” he whispered.
“I’ll send you home right now if you growl one more time,” he scolded.
“What? That wasn’t even me? I think…” Another growl. “Someone’s in trouble, Hyung. I can smell it a little.”
“What? Smell what?”
“I have to go!” he whispered, hanging up and shoving his phone into his hoodie pocket before glancing in the direction of the sound… and the worsening smell.
“Hyung, can you turn off the camera?” he asked, taking his mic off and handing it over to his manager, who switched off the camera, putting it down without needing a reason. He could smell it too.
“I’ll call the police,” his manager said, putting his hand out slowly toward the antsy omega. “Stay right here. Don’t move.”
“The police?” he scoffed. “It’s an omega.” He sniffed the subtle burn to the faint lilies. “What the fuck will the police do?” They weren’t even that far away.
His manager turned, covering his mouth as he spoke on the phone. Wooyoung heard a whimper. Then silence. He ran.
“Fucker,” the man snarled. “How am I s’posed to see if she’s any good if her legs are tied?” He tilted his head, leaning into the beta’s face. The beta trembled, crossing his eyes to maintain the contact with the alpha.
Wooyoung stumbled into a wooden fence as he was attacked with burning masculine, putrid scents. They stunk up an old parking lot outside an abandoned warehouse. There were several alphas lined up behind a much stronger, uglier one. In front of them was a weak-looking beta who stood beside an omega, you, tied to a chair, unconscious.
“M-my master said-” The alpha spat in the beta’s face, watching with a disgusted frown as the beta squeezed his violated eyes shut.
“Untie her.” The alpha’s men started to move toward you and Wooyoung nearly lunged out from his spot, but the beta quickly stepped in front of you, shaking his hands as he panicked.
“My master told me not to give her to you if you inspect her before paying!” he shouted. The men paused and glanced toward the alpha.
He grumbled, eyeing your unconscious body. “You’re trying to fuck me over with some loose hag?” he snarled. “This is ridiculous! Doesn’t he realize no one wants a feral bitch these days? Will he kill her if I refuse her?”
The beta swallowed hard as the alpha himself neared you.
“Just let me take a look.”
“I’ll purchase the omega!” Wooyoung shouted, slipping on his paper mask as he stepped out into the parking lot.
The alpha growled as he stepped closer, and Wooyoung tilted his head. “I’ll pay now. No inspections needed.”
“Who the fuck are you?” The alpha took just two steps to meet him before he could reach the beta or you. “You-”
“Fantastic!” the beta exclaimed, shoving past the alpha and handing Wooyoung a tablet for payment. The alpha looked stunned, but before he could take the tablet from him, he was already done. The omega was his.
The alpha shoved him suddenly. Hard. He stumbled to the ground, his head slamming against the concrete. He snarled at the creature. When he got to his feet, he was pushed again.
“You’re pitiful” Wooyoung scoffed, only shuffling back a little that time. “I thought no one wants ferals these days anyway.”
“It was mine,” he growled.
“Shut the fuck up,” Wooyoung grumbled, rolling his eyes slightly. “You’re fucking mated,” he growled, motioning toward the alpha’s clearly marked nape.” You want to buy a feral omega? Want her to kill your mate maybe? Or maybe you wanna use her as a toy. Keep her locked away for when you’re bored. Disgusting.”
The sirens in the distance shut the alpha’s jaw tight. It wasn’t very illegal to sell and purchase omegas like this. But he was probably a somewhat public scumbag. He couldn’t have his name tarnished like that. Though, neither could Wooyoung.
The alpha backed off first, filing into a black van with his goons. They drove off pretty fucking fast.
The beta was gone.
It was just him. And you.
His harsh glare softened as he laid his eyes on you. You were beautiful but so destroyed. You were covered in ripped cloth and torn skin. Blood, bruises, and scars.
He knelt down in front of you. There were remnants of foam at the sides of your mouth. Your lips twitched as you struggled with your consciousness. You were drugged, definitely.
He slowly began to untie you. As his manager’s scent came closer and closer, his feet dashing across the pavement, he closed his eyes as he realized exactly what he’d done. He’d saved you. But he’d fucking bought you. He bought an omega.
“Wooyoung!” he gasped. “Fuck! Are you okay?! Is she okay? The police are almost here!” Wooyoung glanced at his face with an unsure expression.
“Hyung…”
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
The looks on their faces were heartbreaking. But the more he thought about it, the more he was sure he did the right thing. Even as he was deep in a bow, kneeling on the ground, he knew he did the right thing. She was free now. As long as no one found out about what he did, it was all alright. She was free.
But they looked so disappointed.
“Did you-!” Hongjoong had to take a long breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose tightly between his fingers. “Did you think for just a SECOND? Just one? That that might not have been the best thing to do?” His eyes were wide, his brows high in utter disbelief. “Fuck, Wooyoung, this could destroy hundreds of lives. Us, our familes, the company, the employees, their fucking families. If this gets out… holy shit…” He was really trying his best not to scream. He really was. Because Wooyoung was an omega, and, although it usually didn’t matter, Hongjoong was an alpha. He would hurt him by letting his anger loose. But it was quickly becoming nearly impossible.
“Hyung, I’m so sorry,” Wooyoung pleaded, his voice trembling as he rubbed his hands together desperately. “You know she would’ve gone with that man. She would’ve been his slave. She would’ve-”
“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa gently interrupted. “Get off the floor. Let’s just talk about it, okay?”
Wooyoung shook his head. “I deserve to die, Hyung, but I’d rather die than see her get sold away. Fuck the police. Fuck the law. Fuck me,” he bit his lip as he felt hot tears built at his eyes. “She doesn’t deserve that, Hyung.”
“The police-”
“No!” He lifted his head with a deep scowl. “You know they wouldn't have helped her! You know the law wouldn’t have stopped it!”
Hongjoong clenched his jaw in frustration, looking away from Wooyoung. He knew he was right. But he knew the risk was far more than just the one Omega. No one deserved that. But neither would the innocent people who’d get caught in the crossfire.
“How is she?” Seonghwa asked, letting Wooyoung’s expression soften as he met the older omega’s face.
“She’s still unconscious. Um… but she’s being treated right now. She has a lot of broken bones. And little things. The doctors said she probably did it all to herself.”
Seonghwa pressed his lips together in a thin line, blinking a few times. He hid it well with his subtle expression, but his scent soured significantly. Seonghwa, Wooyoung knew, was not against his decision. Not at all. In fact, he wanted to see the omega and care for her.
Wooyoung and Seonghwa knew where Hongjoong came from, but they couldn’t make themselves regret Wooyoung’s decision.
“I’m going to make sure she’s safe,” he said. “I’ll find her a good shelter. I’ll make sure she gets help. I’ll make sure they never find her.”
“Make sure no one finds out.” Hongjoong said his final thought with a softness to it. “The company will do the same. Just be careful.”
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Your eyes shot open with a gasp of air. Everything was a mixture of white and red, your eyes bloodshot as they widened, searching frantically around the room. You were laying down, strapped to a surface. You couldn’t move a single muscle. You pulled at your arms and legs, but they were restrained completely. Even your chest was bound down. You ground your teeth, your head lifting off of the pillow as you let out a frustrated growl. You couldn’t think. You didn’t know where you were. You just knew you needed to get out of there.
But your head was throbbing, your ears pounding with each thump of your pulse. It was painful and weakening as you tried to think. You were gasping for air, searching for a way out.
Everything was white. White walls, white ceiling, white bed, white straps. There was nothing but white.
“It’s best to let her calm herself down.” You froze immediately as you heard a voice in the distance. You couldn’t smell anything. You could only hardly hear the sounds beyond the room.
“She shouldn’t be tied up like that,” another voice said. “She won’t calm down like that.”
Your chest began to vibrate slightly as you let out a constant warning sound toward the voices. If they came closer, you would bite their fucking heads off.
“It would be easier if we knew why she went feral, but, unfortunately, we can only infer based on what you witnessed.”
“Just fucking untie her.” You heard a deep growl, and you echoed the noise immediately. But when you heard footsteps coming closer, you whimpered slightly. You couldn’t protect herself like this. They could attack you, and you couldn’t protect yourself.
“Mr. Jung!”
“I’ll take care of it. Did you contact any professionals before handling her or did you just restrain her like any normal patient? Fucking idiot.”
Your heart was beating out of your chest as you violently thrashed against the restraints. The door in the corner opened, and you hissed at the intruder. You glared at him, grinding your teeth as your lips trembled.
Your eyes shot to the door. It opened into a hallway of more white. You could escape. If you got out of your restraints, you could get away.
But then he came closer, and you faltered in your thrashing. You sniffed the air in confusion, your eyes glancing back at the intruder. He was an omega. Your growls hitched in your throat as you watched him step closer again. He was a few feet from you, and he crouched down.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, reaching up toward his neck to peel something off. Your pupils flared as his scent gently wafted through the air. It was so sweet and light, calming your throbbing senses.
You slowly closed your lips into a small frown. You whimpered softly, wanting the pain to go away. His scent was easing that discomfort and constant alarm.
He tilted his head, unsure of what you wanted, and you mewled, wanting him to come closer. You needed his scent closer.
He took one hesitant step, and his scent became so much stronger. You wanted to reach out and pull his scent gland to your nose, but your arm pulled uselessly against the straps. He glanced from your arm to your pleading eyes before slowly reaching for the restraint.
Your breathing picked up a bit, your heart starting to race as his fingers neared your skin. He could hurt you. He could attack you. But your worries were quickly eased when his fingers unlatched your restraints and your arm could pull itself free. Immediately you grabbed the omega’s arm and tugged his wrist into your face. He squeeked, his arm trembling slightly in shock as you took a long breath into the scent gland at his wrist.
It was still too faint, though. You eyed him and his soft, nervous expression, and you gently pulled on his arm, beckoning him to come even closer.
“Let me take these off first, okay?” he said, smiling gently.
He reached out with his other arm toward your legs. You held his arm to your chest as he worked at each restraint. He freed your chest, and then he finally freed your arm.
You shot up off of the bed, tumbling the omega to the floor. You straddled him, pushing his head to the ground as you hurriedly buried your face in the nape of his neck. You inhaled deeply and desperately as you tried to breathe in this addictive scent. You grabbed his arms and pinned them to the ground in fear that he would try to push you away. When he didn’t fight against you, you began to purr.
He sighed, the tinge of uncertainty in him fading away as he tilted his head to give you more access.
“You can scent me, pretty,” he whispered softly against your ear. Your muscles relaxed a bit against him as you let your chest vibrate vulnerably.
You slowly started to scent him, rubbing your sore glands over his. It felt so pleasant despite the slight sting of your skin. What was even more pleasant was the purr of the omega underneath you. You whimpered in relief as his chest vibrated with yours.
“Such a good girl. Does it feel good?”
You swallowed hard before you could even try to speak. Your throat was so sore and scratched. It hurt, but you felt embarrassed to let him hear your hoarse voice when his was so soft and perfect.
“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you let your head rest above his shoulder, just breathing in the air filled with his scent.
“Mr. Jung!” A voice shattered the content vibrations and little noises between you two, and you shot your body up from its limp position. “You can’t-!” You growled sharply as a man entered the room. He was scowling, stomping inside with a syringe and a muzzle in his hand.
He was going to hurt him. He was going to attack your omega.
You grabbed his head and pulled it to your chest as you hovered over him. You bared your teeth, your nose scrunching as his putrid smell contaminated the room.
“She’s okay! She’s calm!” your omega shouted, his voice muffled by your shirt. “Get out!”
“It’s not safe, sir! We have to sedate her before she hurts you.” He took a step closer, and your omega tried to break free. You panicked, your grip on his head tightening frantically. He was in danger if he left. You had to protect him, but he kept pushing away.
“Don’t touch her!” he growled, but with one final step, the man strapped the muzzle over your mouth. You buried your omega further under you as the man grabbed your arm and pushed the drug inside. Your eyes drooped as you whimpered, determined to keep him safe from the intruder.
As your body fell limp, Wooyoung could finally pull his head from your grip. You quickly began to collapse to the floor, but he grabbed you and pulled you close. He took a few slow breaths as he gazed down at your distressed, broken expression.
He didn’t glance toward the doctor as he simply took you in his arms, stood, and laid you on the bed.
“She’s mostly healed, so we’ll transfer her to a proper hospital for recovery,” Wooyoung said, gently moving the hair from your face and patting it down nicely. “You are not allowed to enter this room until she’s gone.”
He did look at the man then. His eyes were borderline feral themselves, his pupils drawn back into thin slits. He motioned toward the door calmly.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
You could smell him, though just faintly. It couldn’t have been long since he was with you, but you were somewhere else. Where was he? He must’ve been taken. You didn’t protect him. He was in trouble. You needed to get to him.
But this room also had no way out. It was small and secluded, and all you could hear were the sounds of your breath and heartbeat. All you could smell was him mixed with your own scent.
You weren’t restrained anymore. You could get up, but it was useless. You walked back and forth, banging on each wall uselessly. You shouted and wailed for help, but your voice was eventually too tired to continue. You collapsed in the middle of the room.
You sniffed your stale clothes for any hint of distress, trying to find clues as to if your omega was hurt or not. You could hardly smell anything.
And then you heard a voice. It was a female, talking softly through the wall. “Miss, I have some food for you.”
“Where is he?!” you growled, crawling over to the voice and banging your fist against the wall. “Don’t fucking touch him! Bring him back!” you demanded, scraping your nails along the surface desperately.
“I’ll bring him,” she said, and you paused your growling and scraping to listen. “But he said you have to eat your food first. Will you eat it for him?”
“He said that?” you mumbled, sitting back on your feet. “I-if he said that, then I’ll eat it.” If it meant he was safe. If he would come.
The wall slowly opened, and a small lady appeared. She held a plastic plate full of meat and eggs and vegetables. You backed away, baring your teeth just slightly at the lady. She took a step inside and closed the entrance. You saw something else in her hands. A piece of cloth, maybe a sweater. She crouched down and placed the plate on the ground. Then she smiled, holding up the sweater.
“He sent a gift.”
You quickly crawled over and snatched the sweater from her hands, retreating back to your wall. You brought the sweater to your nose and closed your eyes in relief. His scent.
You lifted your head slowly to look at the woman, but she was gone. You put the sweater on, feeling your omega’s warmth and scent envelope you. You felt nearly content as you crawled over to the plate of food by the other wall. If you ate the food, he would come see you. He was safe.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“You can’t go there,” Hongjoong said, watching as Wooyoung’s expression dropped completely. “It can't be disguised as going to the hospital for yourself. It’s a facility for feral rehab, Wooyoung.”
“Maybe I’ve gone feral,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes when Hongjoong looked very unamused.
“The company declined.” He shrugged. “Trust me, I asked and argued for your case. They said sending your sweater was risky enough. You can’t go see her.”
“Go see who?”
Both heads turned in shock as Jongho innocently stood from a chair in the corner of Hongjoong’s bedroom. He was busy on his phone as he asked, not really too interested in the situation.
“When did you get here?” Hongjoong asked, blinking in confusion.
Wooyoung eyed his captain. “He’s been here the whole time.” He scoffed, leaning back in his own chair, clearly offended. “Can you seriously not tell the difference between us yet? It’s been years.”
Hongjoong avoided eye contact with the omega, puckering his lips innocently. “It’s literally the same scent.”
“Hyung,” Jongho whined, clutching his chest dramatically. “That hurts my pride. They’re very different.”
“What? You don’t like smelling like me?” Wooyoung grumbled. “I smell delicious.”
Jongho scrunched his nose. “Eh… you smell a bit…”
“You smell the same,” Hongjoong huffed, ending the conversation with a warning spike in his own scent. I guess the alpha was a bit worn out from Wooyoung's situation.
“Who are you guys talking about anyway?”
“Ah… At my schedule the other week…” Hongjoong sighed, sitting on his bed with a small bounce. “...a feral omega was being sold to some alpha, but I bought her first and sent her to a hospital. But when I met her after she woke up, she really liked my scent, I guess. She’s getting help right now, but apparently she won’t calm down unless they promise I’ll go see her.”
Jongho looked up from his phone and blinked twice. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know,” he said, staring with wide eyes at Hongjoong. “Our captain won’t let me visit her.”
“Wooyoung,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Can’t you cooperate? You know why you can’t go.”
The omega huffed and turned away, staring at Jongho. “She’d get better if I visited her.”
“She should just come here,” Jongho said, plopping down next to Hongjoong on the bed. His weight indented the mattress and made Joong lean into him, his cheek squishing into his shoulder. He didn’t really make an effort to move, though. “I mean, if she likes Woo’s scent, she’ll like mine.”
Hongjoong huffed a small laugh. It wasn’t just him. Only a few little hints were different between their scents. Jongho’s was just a tad sweeter and softer than the omega’s. Other than that, mostly the same.
“No, no,” Wooyoung grumbled, shaking his head in annoyance. “She’ll recover. I’ll send her more stuff, and, when she gets better, I’ll find her a good shelter. She’ll be okay.” He bit his lip, feeling a bit unconvinced himself.
He worried about you. He scented his clothes and blankets and sent them to you multiple times a week. He heard you’d built a nest and was content with your life when you laid in it. You weren't getting better, though. It was all very temporary. When his scent wore off after a week, you would tear everything apart and scream and growl, demanding he came to see you in person. He wondered if this was just feeding into your mental state, but the facility insisted you were getting better, just very, very slowly.
So that’s why he thought he could go through with his schedule in Japan. He would be just a few hours away, and it would only be for five days. Then he could send you his rescented items. It would be okay.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“She isn’t taking no for an answer, Mr. Jung. We understand your circumstances, but the patient can not improve any further without your presence.” The woman on the other end took a shaky breath. “Unfortunately ferality is not very predictable, so we can only speculate based on her behavior, but we fear she might enter an irreversible state if she does not reconnect with her mate, which she has claimed to be you.”
Wooyoung closed his eyes and lifted the phone from his ear for a brief moment with his thoughts. Yelling wouldn’t help anything, but he wanted to scream. He strained his jaw as he suppressed the deep growl sizzling in his throat. He put the phone back to his ear and spoke very calmly.
“I was told this wouldn’t happen,” he said, smiling to try and ease his voice into a smooth, professional tone. “I made it clear that I would not be able to help her in person, and I was told it wouldn’t be necessary.” His voice rose instinctively, but he quickly stopped and gathered himself with a deep, seething breath. “How long do I have?”
“W-We fear it could happen within the next day. It is a very abrupt transition, and it is-”
Wooyoung ended the call and glanced at his manager in the corner of the room. This fucking schedule wasn’t even important, and yet they insisted on him going despite his situation.
No.
He decided he could go. This was his fault as well. He shouldn’t have left Korea when you were still so unstable.
He heard the cheers of the crowd from their room, and he wished, for the first time in his life, that they would shut the fuck up.
He needed to leave, but he fucking couldn’t. He needed to go to you.
Or did he?
He looked down at the phone in his trembling hand with a sudden idea. His ideas were never very bright. That's how he got himself in this situation, after all. But it seemed like all he had at that moment.
~a quick note~
Choi Jongho was 23 years old. It was common for idols to present later than the average person due to the constant physical stress on their bodies during adolescence. Usually, one would present between 14 and 18, but idols would often present around 19 or 20. Jongho presented as an alpha at 22. It was extremely rare, but it wasn’t very concerning.
Of course, it wasn’t normal.
Jongho’s pheromones were just a bit unstable. He had a hard time controlling his instincts. He was lucky he had eight older pack members to keep him in check. Otherwise he might not have had the successful career he had.
It had been a few months since his presentation, so he knew he would eventually gain control over his pheromones. His doctors reassured him many times that he would have a normal, stable second-gender after about a year, or three ruts.
Jongho’s ruts were horrible and outright scary for the poor alpha. He was driven by pure instinct and would often want to fuck the omegas in the pack. So he would lock himself in his room and take care of everything himself, even if the other members wanted to help. A knot without anyone to take it was extremely painful, and so Jongho always associated sex with pain. He hated it. Even though the other members had sex often, he would never join. He was too scared.
Even then, his instincts always went against him.
That’s the gist of the alpha, Choi Jongho.
So you can imagine the sigh Wooyoung let out when Jongho picked up the phone. He was seriously about to leave this in the hands of the pack’s baby alpha…
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
You whimpered as you picked up one of the first blankets your omega had ever sent you. It was hardly intact anymore, but they let you keep it. Everything else that was torn had mostly been cleared out, leaving a neat nest for you and your guest. You would have gone for their napes in normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal at all. He was coming to see you.
Finally they were giving him back. You could protect him, and you could escape together. You purred at the thought, laying down on the cold floor, nuzzling your nose into the scentless blanket.
Then there was a knock at the door, and you sat up straight, your neck craning to get closer to the door from your spot on the wall. When no one came inside, you tilted your head in confusion and crawled a bit closer.
“Pretty?”
You paused, staring at the wall in awe.
Pretty.
That was you.
You crawled all the way to the wall and pawed at it with a small whimper. You couldn’t smell him, but you heard him call for you. You knew he was there.
“They’re going to let you smell me, okay?” he said gently, and your scrunched, confused expression lightened so quickly as you nodded.
There were some clanking noises outside for a moment before that familiar, gentle scent wafted into the room. You felt tears fill your eyes as you let your lungs fill with the scent from its source.
“How are you, Pretty? I heard you made a nest with my gifts,” he said, and you pressed your ear against the wall to hear his soothing voice louder.
“Wanna show you,” you mumbled, drowsily letting your body go limp against the wall. He was quiet for a second.
“I bet it’s so comfy~” He hummed to himself as he thought, and you longed to feel those light vibrations. “You-”
“When will you come in?” you interrupted, feeling a bit impatient. He was so close but way too far to feel very at ease. It was like an itch in your chest that wouldn’t go away.
He was quiet again.
“I promise I’ll be good,” you mumbled. “I ate my food and made a pretty nest just for you. Please come see,” you begged, a small pout forming naturally. “You’ll be safe in my nest. I’ll be good, a-and I’ll protect you this time.” You were panting, desperately staring at the wall as if it would open that way. You twitched with each passing second, biting your lip when he never responded.
“I’ll be right back, pretty,” he said.
You heard him walk away, and you growled. Were they taking him away? Was that it? You weren’t allowed to feel him? To see him? To scent him?
“Pretty~” His voice was so soft, practically whispering in your ear through the wall, and your tense muscles relaxed. “Listen to me, okay?”
“...Okay…”
“I’m a little shy, so is it okay if we cover your eyes? If you let this nice lady cover your eyes, then I’ll come inside.” You raised a brow, confused and a little disappointed. But… if that’s all it took…
“Okay.”
“She’s going to come in and put something over your eyes. Then I’ll come inside. Let her do it, okay?”
“Okay.”
And then the wall opened, and the usual lady walked inside. You’d come to know her a little. Trust her to bring you nutrients. At least you knew she wasn’t exactly a threat. But to have her touch you… You couldn’t help but bare your teeth, clutching your pants and nearly tearing them as she crouched in front of you and wrapped something over your eyes. It clicked in the back, secured to your head.
Then she left, and your omega’s scent got closer. You whimpered, reaching out blindly until you tapped his hand. He slid his fingers between yours and you purred. You slowly crawled toward him and touched his body. His chest, and his arm, and his neck, and his cheek. You were eager to feel him everywhere and scent him completely, but you couldn’t see. You needed to be careful.
“Hi,” he quietly said, and you pushed yourself against him. You buried your nose in his neck and your purring grew louder with each inhale. You were so happy to be back in his hold. He placed his hands on your waist to hold you up as you leaned entirely on him.
“Omega,” you purred, “I missed you so much.”
You rubbed your scent into his nape, delighting in the increasing pressure of his hands on your waist. But then you paused with a frown. Why wasn’t he purring too? He liked it when you scented him. Did he not like it anymore? Was he hurt? You distanced yourself just a bit from his body, and tilted your head.
“Hm? What’s wrong?” he asked softly.
Maybe it was the position. That must’ve been it. He was uncomfortable sitting on the hard floor.
You moved away from him and took his hand in yours, guiding him into your nest. He giggled, and it quickly became one of your favorite sounds.
Once he was fully in the organized mess of his clothes and blankets, you gently pushed him to lay down.
“It’s so comfy,” he praised. “You built a beautiful nest.”
You moved over him, a purring mess as you became a puddle on top of him. You sat on his lap, and you reached for his hand, bringing his wrist to your nose.
“You smell sweet today,” you mumbled, squirming a little in joy. You brought his pulse point to your lips and paused. His pulse was so quick. You frowned. “What’s wrong, omega?”
“Nothing, pretty, I’m okay,” he assured, reaching up with his other hand and softly stroking your hair.
“Are you hurt?” you mumbled, putting his wrist on the ground and lowering your nose to his neck. Your chest flushed to his, you could feel his heart beating so fast.
“No,” he said, leaning his cheek against your head gently. “I’m just excited to see you.”
You grinned, purring as you pushed your body further into his. “Then are you sleepy?” you asked.
“No, pretty, I’m not sleepy. I can play with you as long as you want.” He rubbed a gentle thumb back and forth on your thigh, a subconscious movement that had you thrilled. You loved each word and each touch, but some little things bothered you so much.
You pushed lightly against his head, but he never presented his neck for you to scent. He kept his cheek against your hair. He wasn’t…
“Then why aren’t you purring?” You pouted, lifting yourself from his neck and placing your hands on his chest. He was quiet for a long while. “I-Is my sweater too thick? I just can’t feel it?” You quickly went to take it off, lifting it up to your chest, but he grabbed your hands before it could go any further.
You dropped the sweater in confusion, but then you froze. It was just a single inhale, and then it was gone, but it was definitely there. Your eyes widened, your pulse quickening suddenly. Your hands reached to grab your blindfold in sudden terror.
Alpha pheromones.
You tried to rip the thing from your head but it wouldn’t budge. You grunted, tearing at the cloth, but it was too thick to break. You shuddered as you smelled it again, and you realized its source in complete horror. You pushed off of the man underneath you, scrambling to the edge of the room, panting as you kicked yourself further and further against the wall, unable to move farther away from him. You growled, tugging and pulling at the blindfold until finally it snapped in the back and fell to the floor.
You fell silent as you looked up at the stranger in your nest. It wasn’t your omega. Where was your omega? Did this alpha eat him? Did he hurt him? Your thoughts replaced your fear with rage as you bared your teeth, preparing your trembling legs to lunge at him. He deserved to die. You would fucking tear his skin from his glands. You’d fucking scented him. A stranger. An alpha. An alpha that had hurt your omega.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly. His voice made you falter for just a second before you growled again.
Before he could say anything else, you tackled him, his head slamming against the floor as you growled and tore at his clothes. You shredded his thick sweater and freed his bare chest. You grabbed his jaw and twisted his head far to the left to force him into submission. With his nape vulnerable, you leaned down and opened your mouth wide, drool dripping from your trembling teeth. But you couldn’t bring yourself to bite. To rip his most precious part from his body. Because his scent was so clear there. It was full of fear much like yours.
When your teeth gently pressed against his scent gland, you heard him whimper. But he made no move to stop you, or shove you, or hurt you. He would just lay there and take it?
What were you doing? You were going to kill this man?
For what?
“Where is my omega?” you asked, your jaw trembling as you fought the urge to protect yourself. Your mind was spinning in a tight circle. Bite him, don’t bite him. Bite him. Don’t fucking bite him.
“He’s a friend,” he said, his voice tight as he tried to keep his composure.
“Where is he?” you growled, shutting your mouth quickly in a scowl. Your brain was buzzing, your eyes focusing and unfocusing as they darted from each speck on his glistening nape.
You felt tears form in your eyes, hot and heavy as they drooped. You fought against gravity and held them there. You couldn’t show weakness.
“You smell just like him,” you said, forcing your eyes to keep open in fear that blinking would separate the heavy flood of water from your burning orbs. “You smell so good, but you’re bad,” you choked. “You lied to me. You hurt my omega, didn’t you?” Your voice broke into a single soft, suppressed sob, and his scent spiked in concern.
“I didn’t hurt him,” he rushed to say. “I-I’m his friend. He couldn’t come see you, so he asked me to help you instead. Pretty, I’m so sorry I-”
“He never came to see me,” you mumbled, biting your lip hard as you let your eyes squeeze shut with a harsh sting. A tiny tear dripped onto the blanket beneath you. “They said he would, but he never came. He doesn’t want me.” Another sob broke loose, and you sucked in a hard, vocal breath. “No one wants me.”
“I want you,” he whispered.
Your eyes opened slowly, and you pressed your hands into his bare chest, sitting up hesitantly. You tilted your head, gazing at his face. He remained presented for you. He didn’t move an inch. His eyes were closed. Soft streaks of tiny tears drew damp lines from his eye, over the bridge of his nose, to the blanket where there were three dark dots. His hair was messy, the few strands left laying over his forehead just a bit darker from his sweat.
He was scared.
“Pretty,” he mumbled, opening his eyes slowly. His gaze had a soft determination, but his eyes trembled slightly as they tried to decide which of your eyes to look into. “Your omega wants you too. We all want you.”
You tilted your head quietly. “You’re a good alpha,” you whimpered as you felt his soft trembles beneath your body. “I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry I scared you.” You bit your lip softly as you gazed at him guiltily.
“I know, Pretty,” he said, forcing a tight smile. “You didn’t scare me.”
You smiled at his act of bravery, leaning back down and nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck where his hair tickled your skin lightly.
“Will you stay with me?” you asked, squirming against him to mold your into his. “I don’t wanna be alone again.”
When he whispered a soft “yes,” you rewarded your new friend with your gentle pheromones. You knew he would like them because he was an alpha. He could be your alpha since he was so good to you. But he stiffened as you let them out. He even pushed you away just a bit, and you pouted, pushing back against him.
“Alpha, do you not like my scent?” you mumbled.
“Th-that’s not it,” he whispered, his breath picking up a bit. You stopped letting the pheromones out with a huff, but his lips suddenly pressed lightly against your ear. His hands slid around your lower back, wrapping around you and trapping you there. “Don’t stop,” he purred.
He stopped as soon as he started, turning his head away and slapping his hand to his mouth with wide eyes. He let go of you and pushed his hands under his back, putting his body’s weight on them as he took slow, deep breaths.
“Alpha?” she whimpered and gained a long groan in response. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily through his nose as he cupped his mouth tightly. “Alpha, what’s wrong?”
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“You did WHAT?!” Hongjoong screamed out of pure shock rather than anger. He was fucking pissed, of course.
“You’re joking,” Seonghwa laughed. “You mean he’s there right now?” His eyes were wide in horror as the remnants of his disbelieving smile were slowly fading.
Wooyoung nodded, and both Seonghwa and Hongjoong jumped to their feet. Hongjoong grabbed Wooyoung’s arm and dragged him to the door as they all ran out of the dorm, grabbing whatever shoes were in reach.
Wooyoung felt like he would cry as he explained the situation on the way there. When he was done telling the story, there was no response. The car ride was silent.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Jongho was trembling as he gently mouthed at your neck, just below your jaw. Your fingers ran through his hair as you purred encouragingly. He hovered over you, his chest pushed against yours. He hummed pleasantly at your vibrations, and his mind was so tingly and fuzzy from your scent.
He groaned as he left a trail of light kisses from your jaw to your soft lips. They moved slowly and gently, hesitant but instinctually comforting. He slid his tongue between your puffy lips, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb rested on her chin and opened her mouth just a bit wider.
You sighed into his mouth, your hand sliding from his hair to the nape of his neck as you caressed the sensitive skin there. He pushed further into you, wanting to feel more of your ticklish touches and praising vibrations. He opened his eyes, gazing at your soft expression as your hips connected just slightly.
“So sweet,” he mumbled into your mouth, wondering if your scent would get sweeter if he-
He paused, lifting his body from yours immediately. His pupils contracted in sudden horror. What the fuck was he doing?!
You whimpered, your hands resting on your chest as it slowly rose and fell. Your eyes were glazed over, and your skin was so hot and smooth as it kept your clothes tightly to your burning skin.
He shook his head and slapped his cheeks together. He needed to stay focused. He couldn’t give in.
No matter how fucking delicious you looked.
He whimpered, covering his eyes helplessly. He needed to leave. Your scent, your touch, just looking at you. It was getting to him, and he didn’t know how much he could take.
He heard a muffled moan, and he uncovered his eyes to glance down at you. He watched as a tear slipped from your eye, and your teeth bit hard on your bottom lip. His breathing picked up as he let out a small, sudden whimper of pleasure. Something felt so good. Your soft, constant movements brought his eyes down and down to where your hips connected. His brows furrowed together as he let out a choked groan. Your hips ground down against his aching bulge, giving him just the slightest friction. He could smell your sweet slick and hear it with each press against him. He saw it seep through your shorts and onto his pants, and he had to place his hands on the ground to support his body as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the weakening sight. He pushed instinctively against you once and growled quietly at the pressure, his head hanging as he stared at your clothed pussy against his cock.
He needed to move away. Fuck. You were so wet. He needed to move away. His hyungs. That’s right. They would yell at him. They would punish him. They would be so disappointed. He took a deep, trembling breath. That’s right. He would call Seonghwa-hyung for help. He would know what to do.
“Alpha,” you moaned, and he twitched, his eyes shooting to yours, though his head remained limp, hanging by his neck. You pushed a bit harder, setting a slow, hesitant rhythm.
He let low rumbles escape as he took your waist in his hands and held you still.
“Please, alpha, I wanna feel it ngh~” you whimpered as you watched his eyes through his damp bangs grow so fucking hungry as they were forced back on your pussy against him.
He bared his teeth, rolling his hips against yours as he lifted his head and let out a pleasured sigh. He brought his movement to a quick, desperate pace, grinding as if he was fucking you. Fucking your perfect pussy. He groaned, leaning toward you as you lifted your head uselessly, wanting him closer. He attached his lips to your neck and breathed in your arousal, so sweet just for him. Fuck, you were so wet, dripping onto his cock and your nest, just for him. He gripped your waist as he nibbled at your scent gland, wanting so fucking bad to bite it and claim you for himself. Your perfect moans and sighs filled his ear with pure ecstasy as his jaw trembled against your skin.
But he needed to prove himself first. He would make you cum first, that’s right. Then you would know who you belonged to. Only he could take care of you. He would make you feel so fucking good. Have you creaming just like this, then on his cock, then fucking begging for his knot. For his cum. He panted against your skin, licking a long stripe from your gland to your jaw as his eyes grew blurry with a thick, drunk haze.
Then his arms were grabbed, and he was dragged away from you. He growled, thrashing against the hands that kept him from you until he smelled the familiar scent of his hyung. He whimpered in confusion as he was taken from the room and shoved away from your sight and scent.
He bared his teeth as he glared at the door that separated him from you. Seonghwa cupped both of his cheeks and forced the alpha to look at him.
“Jongho, no!” he shouted sternly. The alpha froze as he met his hyung’s eyes. He slowly covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide and fearful.
“I didn’t,” he whimpered, hot tears flooding his eyes. “Hyung, I tried not to. I r-remembered what you said. I tried not to, but-” As tears poured down his cheeks, Seonghwa wiped them away one by one, keeping the alpha close against him as he pleaded with him not to be angry. It was always like this, and it shattered Seonghwa’s heart to see their baby struggle so much. It wasn’t his fault. Not at all. Not a single bit, and yet Jongho would always blame and hate himself for it all.
“You did good, baby,” Seonghwa cooed, moving his disheveled hair from his forehead with extra, gentle care of the alpha’s burning skin. “Omegas… They don’t do that when they’re feral,” he whispered, smiling and nodding when he glanced up at him. “So, it was an accident,” he took a small breath, “but I’m sure you helped her.”
“I helped her?” he mumbled, leaning into his hyung’s hand that cupped his puffy cheek. “Will she be okay?”
He nodded without hesitation. “So, why don’t we go see Joongie, and we can all go home?” he suggested, taking the alpha’s hand and rubbing his thumb against his gently.
“Is he mad?” he asked as they walked down the hall.
“Not at all,” he lied. “He’s just here to drive us home.”
The walk was silent, but Seonghwa watched as Jongho bit his lip and thought hard to himself. He waited patiently for the alpha to speak his mind, as it always took him a while to find the courage. “Will Pretty come with us too?” he asked suddenly.
Seonghwa didn’t answer for a long while. Of course, how could he just say no? “We’ll have to ask Hongjoong.” He couldn’t.
Wooyoung watched as she scratched at the door, sobbing for her alpha to come back. He was a little heartbroken. What had Jongho told her? She hated him now. I mean, he did deceive her, but so did Jongho. It wasn’t fair. He wanted her to like him again. To be her omega again, but she was so distressed about Jongho.
“Pretty,” he called out softly. She turned and glared at him.
“Don’t call me that,” she said, crossing her arms. “Only my alpha can call me that,” she huffed.
“Oh,” he scoffed, “is he yours? He was mine first, though.” He stuck his tongue out. He was done being nice if she was going to give this kind of attitude.
“He likes me more anyway,” she said, laughing as he frowned. “He couldn’t take his hands off me,” she bragged.
“Look at you,” he scoffed. “Are you even sick anymore? You look perfectly fine.”
It was true, except for her possessive instincts bringing about this cat fight. She was coherent and had a productive conversation. She was really gaining more control over her actions, and Wooyoung was so happy. He didn’t even care if she was acting like a brat. At least she was getting better.
“Will you bring him back?” she grumbled, sitting defeated against the wall. “They dragged him away like he was hurting me. I promise he wasn’t. We were just having fun.”
Wooyoung chuckled. “That’s the problem, Pretty.”
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“She refuses to eat or leave her nest at all,” the nurse said with a sigh.
Wooyoung bit his lip, watching a similar situation unfold in their living room. Jongho was laying on the couch, his hair ungroomed and clothes unchanged just so he could get a glimpse of the scent he was taken away from. Seonghwa nudged him gently, asking him to come eat something, but the alpha barely acknowledged him.
“We fear-”
“We’ll bring her home.” Hongjoong looked purely professional rather than seething as he often did those days. He looked calm and smelled neutral.
Wooyoung shot his eyes to Jongho, but the poor baby didn’t hear. He excitedly hopped over to the couch, but his collar was grabbed, and he was pulled back into Hongjoong.
“Let’s go.”
“We have almost no information about the patient,” the nurse said, flipping through the pages on her clipboard. “The first record of her existence is November 17th when she was admitted to the hospital.” She glanced at Hongjoong, the alpha smelling like pure disgust as he listened intently to her every word. “We don’t know why she went feral, but we’ve come to know her quite a bit in the past few months.” She smiled then, her eyes squinting in reassurance.
Wooyoung nodded silently.
“As I’d said on the phone, she’s in a depressed state due to being away from her… mate. This behavior isn’t uncommon, it’s just… she’s practically healthy.”
“What?” Wooyoung gasped, looking from the nurse to Hongjoong in sudden excitement.
“We’ve been monitoring her since her visit with Mr. Choi, and it has helped her significantly. She can form complex thoughts and sentences. She can communicate with others without relying purely on instinct. It’s just this one aspect that has her clinging to this thin string of omega control. She’s completely reliant on her mate, and we… to be frank, we’re unsure of what to do, as Mr. Choi… is not her mate.”
Hongjoong nodded, biting his lip in slight frustration.
“We will allow her to go home with you, but there are a few things you should be aware of.”
Hongjoong knew little to nothing about ferality. He knew the basics that were taught in school, but he’d never needed to know much more than that. Wooyoung, however, had made himself an expert throughout his life, as he’d donated regularly to foundations such as these. He knew what they would need to do, but he would let the nurse lay it all on his hyung.
The nurse took a deep breath. “Once the patient is completely of sound mind, she will immediately enter pre-heat. It will last two days at most before she will have to endure an unsuppressed heat.” She gazed sympathetically at the alpha. “Number two… I understand you and your pack have extremely demanding and busy schedules. The patient, as she isn’t exactly thinking clearly, won’t understand the concept of leaving and returning. Each time you leave, she’ll think you’re gone forever. Each time you come back, she’ll think you’ll stay forever. She can be… for lack of a better term… trained, but it’s unlikely her ferality will last that long.” She cleared her throat. “Lastly, the patient will remember everything when she returns to the surface. Her omega is in control right now, but she is witnessing everything. Please keep that in mind. She may be distressed or embarrassed once everything is over. You’ll want to ease her mind. Comfort her.”
Hongjoong nodded, taking a long, tired breath. “What about my pack?” he asked, knowing the answer wouldn’t be anything he liked. “There’s eight of us. Four alphas, one being me, three omegas, one being Wooyoung, and one beta. She won’t like that, will she?”
She chuckled. “Definitely not.” His lips fell into a thin line. “Mr. Choi and Mr. Jung have similar scents. That’s how this situation came about?” she asked, leaning in slightly with an intrigued look.
Wooyoung nodded.
She hummed, thinking to herself. “You all live together?” They nodded again. “This is tough…” she mumbled. “She’s recovering nicely. We were watching the cameras closely, and she totally almost bit him.” She closed her mouth for a moment, watching as both of them raised their brows in shock. She cleared her throat, speaking before they could say anything rash. “But she didn’t. I mean, we wouldn’t have let her bite him, of course, but she stopped herself. She’s getting there, which is why we’re considering the possibility of moving her out at all. She might have the urge to attack your packmates, but I don’t think she will. It’s an issue that it’s a possibility at all, though. It would distress her and could harm the progress. However, it could also develop her control over her instincts, making her a bit more immune to ferality and its control over her mind and body.” She groaned. “It’s all very two-sided.”
“So, what do you recommend?” Hongjoong asked, trying to piece together everything she was saying.
“I…” She scrunched her face and slowly swayed her head from side to side. “I recommend that Mr. Choi and Mr. Jung share a room and-”
Hongjoong put his hand up, his lips pressed tightly together in a moment of silence. “You want the omega to share a living space with our baby alpha?” he asked in disbelief.
The nurse glanced at Wooyoung, not exactly expecting those words. “Yes.”
“That won’t do,” he sighed before leaning closer to the nurse. “Did you see them earlier?” he whispered.
“Mr. Kim. What happened earlier was actually very significant to her recovery. Feral omegas don’t participate in sexual activities.” He scoffed. “Please understand. If the two are close together, she’ll recover very quickly. That is certain.”
He chewed lightly on his lip before he sat back in his chair and motioned for her to continue off where she’d left before he interrupted.
She cleared her throat. “After a few days, she’ll be used to the new environment. Introduce her very slowly to the other pack members. Start with the omegas. Then the betas. Then, with extreme, and I mean EXTREME, caution, the alphas.” She sighed, nodding as she thought over the plan a few times.
They nodded, feeling somewhat content with that answer. He could do that. Wooyoung and Jongho could fix their schedules and help her at every hour. They could do it.
“I just have one more question,” Hongjoong said, glancing at Wooyoung hesitantly, then back at the nurse. “It’s been months since she was first admitted, but she hasn’t had a heat. What does that… Does she get heats… while like that?”
The nurse shook her head. “The pheromones build and build within until she regains full control over her body. Mm… I think it would be best to admit her to a heat sanctuary, as it will be very strong. Unless you have a proper conversation with the patient before her heat, admit her. If she tells you otherwise with a completely sound mind, then do as she wishes. It’ll be a frightening experience, so please help her with her requests. Also, during her stay, she has been on pheromone medication, which helps reorganize her pheromones but prevent her from getting pregnant. I assure you that condoms won’t be necessary in the event of a heat.”
“Oh.”
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
The alphas were a little unhappy to be kicked out of the dorm for the omega guest, as they’d be away from their pack for a while. The omegas and beta of the pack would be allowed to stay, though there were boundaries put into place. Jongho and Wooyoung would share their room and live with you until you recovered.
“Come on, Prettyyy,” Wooyoung whined, tugging at the determined omega’s arm. “We have to go hooome.”
She shook her head, breaking away from him. “I won’t go home with you. Bring me my alpha,” she demanded.
“He’s at home!” he huffed. “We have to go there so you can see him!”
She tilted her head. “I can see him if I go there?” she mumbled.
She sat in the front seat beside him, which he knew was probably a bad idea. Though the back seat might have been worse.
She fidgeted with the buttons, pressing each one in wonder as he swatted her hand away.
You woke up snuggled delicately in fluffy, blissfully scented blankets. You didn’t feel the need to stir or panic. You were floating with your head light and limbs melted nicely into the fluff. When you felt a shift in the blankets, you were snatched from your dreamy state, and you shot up, panting as you looked to your right.
Your omega was stretched out on the other side of the bed, wrapped up in the arms of the similar scented alpha. His head was buried in his warm chest, and his hands were stuffed underneath the alpha’s shirt for the warmth of his bare skin. They snuggled close and shivered every few seconds, though they were definitely asleep.
You pouted as you pulled at your omega’s arm, peaking over him at your sleepy alpha. His lips puffed out as he squished his cheek into the soft pillow. You pulled the brat away from him without stirring any of them awake. Then, you slid over your omega to slot yourself into the puddle of sleepy warmth between them. You sighed, enveloped in their scents, as you pushed your body against the alpha. You were sandwiched tightly yet comfortably between them, and you let yourself fall limp as they squirmed gently to mold into you. You buried your nose in your alpha’s neck, purring softly. Only here could your mind clear even slightly. Your omega was constantly demanding control, but here… Here she was softly at bay.
“Pretty,” your alpha groaned softly into your ear. You slowly opened your eyes with a happy curve to your lips as you woke up. “Keep your hands to yourself, okay?” he mumbled, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrists and pressing your hands down to your legs.
“I’m sorry, alpha,” you quietly said, wondering what you did to make him uncomfortable.
His lips pressed together as he brought one of his hands away from your wrist to push back a few loose strands of your soft hair from your eyes. You closed your eyes and leaned into the subtle touch. He was such a perfect alpha, taking care of you when he didn’t have to.
Then you did the same for him, glazing your fingertips over his forehead. You rested your hand on the side of his neck, your fingers rubbing gently over the hair behind his ear. He let you stay there, melting into his pillow at the delicate touch, but when you fingers lowered and grazed over the edge of his scent gland, you felt something on his skin there. He flinched, and he grabbed your wrist and pulled it away, breaking his eyes away from yours.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” he reminded, slowly pushing your hand to the bed.
You frowned, pushing your body a bit further into his sleepy warmth. “You don’t like it when I touch you?” you whimpered, and your mind went from one thought to another in a growing worry. “You don’t like me anymore? Alpha hates me?”
He shook his head hurriedly. “No, Pretty, that’s not it,” he whispered. He brought his face closer until it was just an inch or two away from yours. “We’ll get in trouble. Wooyoung will yell at us.”
“Who is that,” you grumbled, scowling at the stupid reason you couldn’t be close to your alpha. You knew it was your omega speaking these harsh thoughts, but you kind of agreed. He said he was yours. You were meant for each other. You wanted to have him for yourself. You wanted to smell him. Touch him. Kiss him. Who the fuck could keep him from you.
You kissed him. It was a little peck, but his eyes went wide in a panicked shock. He clasped his hand over his mouth as he shook his head.
“Pretty, we can’t!” he whispered, backing away but freezing when he felt the slight graze of your hand over his crotch. He seemed to stop breathing as his hips twitched forward just slightly. “Omega,” he warned, his teeth grinding together and his eyes fluttering slightly.
“No one will find out, alpha,” you whispered, ignoring the snoring body resting against your back, “as long as we’re quiet.”
You pressed your hand firmly against the growing bulge in his pants. His brows knitted together as he bit his lip, looking down at your hand. His hips pushed forward with a soft gasp.
He was so aroused, clearly fighting to keep composure as he bit his lip with a trembling jaw. He didn’t smell like it, though. His scent was still neutral, soft and nice. You sniffed, but you couldn’t smell those addictive pheromones you’d smelled at the facility.
“Alpha,” you mumbled. “Wanna smell you.”
He shook his head with a shaky exhale. “Wooyoung will find out.”
You moved your hand from his pants and reached behind his neck. He gasped, going to grab your wrist, but it was too late. You slid your hand to his scent gland and felt the odd thing sticking to his skin. You lifted one of its edges and stripped it away from him. Your pupils were blown in an instant as his raw, delicious pheromones hit your nose.
You whined, long and desperate, feeling drunk and needy from just a single breath in the new air. He cupped his hand over your mouth, leaning his forehead against yours as he took slow, deep breaths.
“Why don’t you listen?” he said softly. You heard the quiet, stuttering growls sizzling in his throat as he tried to resist his instincts. His hand on your cheek grew a little heavier as he pushed against your head. He stroked your hair in heavy, slow lines of frustration. “You smell so good,” he mumbled, his voice a low rumble.
His hand lifted from your head and found your chin, gently raising it so that your head aligned with his. He didn’t kiss you. He just gazed into your eyes as you whined quietly for him. He frowned mockingly.
“Does my omega want a kiss?” he cooed.
“Yes-” You gasped as his grip on your chin tightened.
“Only good girls get kisses,” he growled, licking a slow stripe across his top teeth as he watched your eyes widen in distress. “Good girls listen.”
Your lip trembled as his hand left your chin and traveled down, down, leaving a trail of feather-light touches along your body. Your alpha was angry. You made him mad. You deserved to be punished.
“Be quiet, okay?” he whispered, smiling sweetly.
His fingers slid underneath your shorts, and your core throbbed in anticipation with each inch of movement. When the tips of his fingers grazed your soaking slit, he whimpered softly. You pushed your hips against his fingers as they lowered into your thick slick. His gaze was low to the blanket covering you, his brows knitted as he longed to see the perfect mess he’d found between your legs.
“Pretty, is this for me?” he purred, subconsciously grinding his hips into the bed as he pushed his nose against yours.
“Just for you,” you hummed, happy that he liked it.
He pushed his middle finger through your folds and nudged your tight hole before hesitantly sliding it inside. You let out a happy moan before he covered your mouth with his hand again. He focused on the warm, thick feeling of your pussy as he pushed his finger all the way in, curling it into your walls.
You ground your clit against his palm as your eyes rolled back in a newfound pleasure. You’d never felt something inside you like that. It was foreign but so perfect, sending little jolts of soft pleasure throughout your body with each slow thrust and curve of his finger. You gazed into his eyes, your vision hazy as you breathed in his thickening arousal.
You set a pace, grinding your hips softly against him as he rubbed your soaked walls. You whimpered, your lips pressed against his hand. His chest vibrated softly but gained intensity every few seconds. He growled as he pushed a second finger in. Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment as you let out a shaky breath.
“Alpha,” you whimpered. His eyes shot to yours in warning. You lowered your voice to a whisper. “It feels so good. I don’t know what to do,” you panted, pushing your hips hard against his palm with a choked gasp as he pushed his two fingers deep inside. “It feels so good, but it’s not enough.”
You pressed your hand against his bare stomach and slid it down beneath the elastic of his pants. He faltered in his movements and let you take his cock in your hand. He breathed warm and slow against your face, his pheromones struggling to suppress themselves in their instinct to dominate you. You stroked it once, and his fingers left your hole as he became vulnerable to the sudden pleasure. His head fell limp against the pillow with a soft whimper escaping his parted lips. His hand left your mouth and rested on the bed. You stroked it again, your thumb swiping lightly across the head to find it wet.
“Is this for me?” you purred, delighting in the flushed nod he could barely give. He was so wet, just like you, practically drooling for you. “Does it feel good for alpha, too?” you whispered, gazing dazedly at his drunken, hazy expression as you set a slow, light pace in your strokes.
“Pretty, I wanna feel you,” he mumbled. “Please, please let me.” He pressed his lips together tightly, pleading with his eyes as you stopped your movement. When you didn’t answer, mesmerized by his gaze, he let out a small growl. “Come on, Pretty. It’ll feel so good. I’ll fuck you so good, Pretty, I promise.” He pouted a little, but his lips quickly twitched into a slight scowl. He raised his voice a little. The vibrations of his chest increased as his voice lowered and his words sharpened. “You’re so tight… I just need to ram into you until I’ve loosened you up. Until your pussy is shaped like my dick,” he growled. “But I promise I won’t cum until you tell me to,” he mumbled, his eyes flickering from desperation and demand. “Once you’re begging for my knot- fuck~ We’ll cum so hard, Pretty. I’ll fill you with my cum until you’re dripping in my scent. Fuck~ everyone will know you’re mine. You’ll be so full, Pretty.”
You were slicking harder with each thought, drooling as you patiently waited to let him ravage you completely. With a simple nod, he grabbed your hips and shot to his natural spot between your legs. He was panting, drops of sweat streaming from his forehead to his lips, then onto your bare stomach.
He was frozen, though. He didn’t move.
“You’re such a bad boy.”
Your head shot to your right, your eyes growing wide as you came face to face with a very conscious, blushing omega. Your alpha flinched at the words, his hands quickly leaving their sensual places on your body and falling to his sides.
“Hy-hyung…” he mumbled, lips trembling as his pupils contracted from their blown state. He stared in horror at the disappointed expression on your omega’s face. “I was- was-”
“Pretty,” he said softly, turning his relaxed head toward the aroused omega beside him. “Alpha was being bad, wasn’t he?” he asked. You shook your head quickly, but he nodded with puckered lips. “He isn’t supposed to touch you, but he did anyway, huh?” You glanced at your horrified alpha. His lip trembled as he mumbled apologies. “Bad alphas need to be punished. Right?”
“Please punish me, Hyung!” Your alpha said, his eyes squinting as he tried to hold in his frustrated tears. “I’ll do anything! I should’ve listened! I’m so sorry!”
The omega chuckled. “Get off the bed, Jongho,” he demanded. “You know what to do.”
You frowned in confusion as your alpha’s warmth left you and he stood in front of the bed. He immediately stripped. His sweatpants and shirt fell to the floor. Your pupils dilated at the perfect sight of your bare alpha. You climbed to the edge of the bed, gazing in awe at his big, painfully hard cock. His smooth stomach and fucking perfect thighs. Your alpha was so fucking hot.
“Come here, pretty,” Wooyoung gently called. You let out a curious little noise as you crawled toward him, dragging your eyes away from your alpha’s body. Your omega patted the spot between his legs with a welcoming smile. You plopped down there, your back to his chest, and he immediately buried his nose in your neck, purring like a happy omega. You brought your hands above your head and intertwined your fingers through his fluffy hair, bringing his lips to your skin with a soft sigh from both of you.
“Hyung,” your alpha whimpered, drawing both of your content attention back to him. “You said not to touch her.”
“I’m not touching her, baby bear,” he cooed. “She’s touching me.” He leaned his chin against her shoulder, smiling slyly at the alpha. “Now, Pretty,” he whispered. You leaned your head back against his chest with a sigh. “Jongie needs to be punished. Will you help me?”
“Yes,” you mumbled, enjoying your view thoroughly.
He softly touched your hips, pulling lightly at your shorts. “Let’s take these off then,” he whispered.
You felt so exposed and bare for your alpha, your legs wide and resting over your omega’s legs. Your shirt clumped at your hips as the cool air hit your soaked core. You rested nicely against your omega as his pretty hands did all of the work. Alpha was focused intently on your dripping cunt, cock throbbing and twitching as Wooyoung’s fingers caressed the dip between your thighs and pretty lips. Jongho’s hands were balled into painfully tight fists at his sides as he panted with each anticipating twitch of your fluttering pussy.
“Isn’t she so pretty?” Wooyoung cooed, gaining a hurried nod from the alpha. “Did you touch her down here already? She must’ve liked it a lot, huh?” He finally let his finger dip into the puddle of slick between your pussy lips and groaned. “I mean, look at this mess.”
Jongho nodded again, his head trembling as he took slow breaths.
“You said you wouldn’t cum until she said so, right, Jongie?” Wooyoung said, giggling when the alpha’s eyes grew a little wide in guilt. “I know you won’t be able to hold it in,” he sighed. “So you can’t touch yourself. Absolutely not. You can only watch. If you can do that, we’ll let you cum, okay?”
Jongho looked devastated, but he nodded, gritting his teeth. “Yes, Hyung.”
Wooyoung smirked. “Good boy.” Wooyoung pressed his lips to your ear and hummed quietly. “Pretty,” he whispered, quiet enough for just you to hear. “You’re okay if I touch you, right?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “I-I can think clearly right now, so don’t worry about me. I w-want it,” you whimpered, blushing lightly as he planted a soft kiss on your cheek.
Wooyoung’s veiny hand flexed as he plunged two of his fingers as deep into your throbbing hole. You squeeked, your back arching as his fingertips rammed into your walls all so suddenly. He hit such a fucking good spot as he thrust in and out. You bit your lip hard as your eyes rolled and your moans and whimpers echoed throughout the room. You panted, forcing your eyes to watch his fingers work you open, squelching as he spread your slick all over your walls and pussy, dripping onto the white sheets. Then you lazily brought your trembling eyes to Jongho, a shaking, hard mess in front of you. His eyes were glued to your pussy, his cock twitching with each sob you moaned.
“Woo-Wooyoung?” you mumbled, your voice light and unsure. He hummed against your skin, his hot breath fanning over your bare neck. “Can- can you slow down, please?” His fingers immediately slowed, and he pressed a soft kiss to your neck, still stroking your insides gently. His other hand caressed your thigh soothingly as he purred against your back.
“What’s wrong, Pretty? Does it hurt?” he asked quietly.
“N-no,” you mumbled, “I’m gonna cum soon. Don’t wanna yet…”
“Oh “ he cooed, leaning his cheek against yours as he looked up at Jongho. “Did you hear that, alpha? She’s gonna cum soon.”
Jongho groaned, his nails scratching lightly at his thighs as he made eye contact with you for the first time in a while.
Wooyoung attached his thumb to your sensitive clit, and you gasped, reaching for his hand to stop him as he rolled the bud delicately. You moaned as the fucking best sensation overrode your senses. He plunged his fingers back inside and set a harsh pace against your gushy g-spot. You clenched your teeth, inhaling sharply with each thrust.
“She’s gonna make a mess when she cums, right, Jongie?”
Jongho nodded, immediately seeing where the omega was going with it.
“Come on, alpha,” he growled. “Get on your knees.”
Jongho dropped to his knees. His eyes aligned with your glistening pussy, and he whimpered at the pulsing sight of Wooyoung ravaging your hole with his fingers.
“Woo- Stop.. mmm~ hh-! Please… ngh… I’m gonna-!”
You begged, tears falling from each eye, because there was no way you were supposed to feel so good. You’d never felt so good. The pleasure kept building as he repeatedly pounded his fingers at the perfect spot, rubbing at your clit and kissing your neck. You began to tremble, your entire body shaking as the pressure collapsed and your orgasm took over. Your mouth hung as you let out urgent moans of pure ecstacy. It was so fucking good that your eyes rolled back and stayed there until your vision was pure white and static. Wooyoung rode you through your high, slowing his pace until you were limp, quiet, and trembling in his arms.
“Such a good girl,” Wooyoung whispered, wiping your tears with his clean hand with gentle little swipes. “You felt so good, huh?” You nodded, slowly opening your eyes as you tried to catch your breath.
You glanced down at Jongho, his eyes glued to your pussy as he licked his lips in anticipation.
“Alpha’s gonna clean us up, okay?” he said, his fingers motioning Jongho to join you on the bed.
The alpha crawled up to you, his eyes hardly moving from his target. Once he was close enough, Wooyoung pressed his wet fingers to Jongho’s lips. They parted easily, the alpha’s eyes rolling back at the remnants of your arousal. He sucked on Wooyoung’s digits with quiet little groans as the omega praised him for his reactions.
“Come on, Jongie,” Wooyoung said, popping his fingers from his lips. “Your omega is still so messy.”
Jongho dipped his head between your thighs. His messy hair tickled your stomach as he breathed in your raw scent. His warm breath fanned over your cold skin, but he didn’t stay there for long. He quickly started to lap at your cunt, and you tensed at the overstimulation. He was gentle yet eager as he licked a thick strip from your abused and needy hole to your quivering clit. You hissed lightly at the slight pain in the gentle pleasure, but the sight of his gaze fixed on yours made your arousal spike from its sedated state. He swallowed your slick, kissing and sucking at your clit and lips.
You were panting, pushing your hips toward his beautiful face as you chased your second orgasm. You didn’t want it like this, though. Your need for release was much deeper than the surface of your pussy. You needed to be pleasured much deeper.
“Woo-Wooyoung,” you mumbled, your hips grinding against him as his tongue slipped into your soaked hole. “F-fuck me,” you whimpered. “Pleeaase, please fuck me, shit- ngh~!” Wooyoung giggled against your cheek, his arms wrapping tightly around you, positioned just below your breasts.
“What about Jongho? He’s been so good. You don’t wanna reward him?” he teased, his fingers patting your sides lightly. “You don’t want his knot?” Wooyoung hadn’t really meant to say it. He was so fucked out just from watching everything go down. He had said it, though.
Jongho’s head shot up, his eyes wide and pupils blown. His lips were swollen, and his chin was shining with your slick. He licked his lips as he stared eagerly at your dazed expression.
“His knot?”
You’d never taken an alpha’s knot before. You’d only ever been used by another omega for their pleasure. An alpha… pleasuring you? Knotting you?
“Do you wanna knot me, Jongho?” you asked quietly. He nodded immediately, scooting just a bit closer.
Wooyoung’s eyes widened in confusion. “Are you up for it, Jongie?” He didn’t look uncertain at all, and it worried Wooyoung more than it would’ve if he’d been cautious about his answer. Jongho had never knotted anyone. He was always too scared that it would hurt like it did during his rut.
“Wooyoung,” he whimpered, his lips quivering into a frown. “I wanna make her feel good. Will she feel good i-if I give her my knot?”
“Oh, baby,” Wooyoung cooed, reaching out and cupping the alpha’s cheek lovingly. “Come here.”
Jongho came closer, his knees spreading to rest under your and Wooyoung’s legs. You watched in awe as Wooyoung pressed a soft kiss to Jongho’s lips before he took his leaking cock in his delicate fingers.
“It’ll feel so good,” Wooyoung said, smiling sweetly as he lined Jongho’s cock to your entrance.
You felt the tip nudge at your hole, and you gasped. It was big in your hands, but next to your core, you could really tell just how big he was. He could definitely reach that aching spot deep in your arousal.
Jongho took slow breaths as Wooyoung urged him to push inside. He bit his lip, his eyes squeezing shut as he popped the tip inside. You whimpered, the feeling of being stretched that wide so unfamiliar but so nice. Jongho hung his head as the pleasure of the slow push inside overtook all of his senses. Your quiet squeaks and moans that grew the deeper he went, your tight walls sucking him in, the scent of your slick and arousal filling the air. When he was completely inside, he had to stop and stare at the connections between you. He was inside of someone. He was inside of you. It felt so fucking good. He knew if he moved, he’d cum right away.
Your lips were parted as you took slow, deep breaths. You were so full. Jongho stayed there as he tried to gather himself, and all you could think of was how much you wanted him to move and hit that deep spot with each thrust.
His hands were gripping the sheets at his sides, his eyes flickering from place to place along your body. He was trembling as he tried to restrain himself from rutting against you.
“Alpha,” you whimpered, reaching out your arms for him to come closer. He was hesitant to lean in, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face to your scent gland with a trembling breath. “You can touch me,” you mumbled. “Please touch me.”
He slowly moved his hands from his sides to your hips and squeezed them gently. He kissed your neck lightly and breathed there in your aroused scent as he shifted his hips impatiently.
Wooyoung threaded a hand through the alpha’s hair lovingly. “Come on, baby. Make her feel good.”
Jongho pulled his hips away just slightly, trembling at the tight restraints around his cock. Then, he pushed it back in with a short growl. He was quick to pull out and thrust in again, growling again as he pressed his teeth softly to your neck.
“Ngh~! J-Jongho~” you moaned, holding him to you much tighter as he rutted his hips against yours, gasps and stuttered deep growls falling from his lips. He grazed his teeth along your neck, licking and mumbling nonsense against your skin. Your moans came in quick spurts with each thrust against your cervix.
“Mine…ghh…” he growled against your neck. “Gonna take my knot like a good girl?” he asked, licking a thick strip up to your jaw and smiling against your ear. “You keep squeezing me like you want me to cum inside. Want my cum, Pretty?”
He purred as he felt you tense at his words. He slammed his hips against yours, the pleasure shooting in strong waves throughout your body. Your eyes rolled back as he kept this new pace with firm thrusts and needy grunts.
“Good girl,” he purred. “Fuck~ You’re such a good omega, Pretty,” he praised, whining softly against your skin as he buried his head in your shoulder. “So good~ So nghh good…”
He kissed your scent gland softly before opening his mouth wide, his eyes rolling back as your pussy tightened in its chase for its second orgasm. Wooyoung placed a quick hand over your gland before Jongho latched his teeth to the skin. He bit the omega’s hand with a disappointed whine.
Even so, the alpha’s knot grew steadily. Both of you were panting as he sat up and grabbed your hips. He pulled them down against his thrusts at a quick, desperate pace. Your tearful eyes spilled over as you watched him growl and whimper at your squelching, overflowing pussy. He watched himself disappear with each pleasured thrust.
“Knot~” you cried. “Want it nghh~ Knot me pleeaase.” You were begging, your jaw dropped as your orgasm built closer, nearly there.
His bulge was growing, stretching your entrance more each thrust. He hit his lip, a single tear slipping as he moaned until his knot finally slipped inside.
You screamed, your head pushing against Wooyoung’s shoulder as your orgasm washed through your entire body. Jongho filled you with his warm cum with a long, dazed moan. You both were sobbing in pure ecstasy as pleasure took over every single thought, muscle, and sense.
Everything slowed down, and your ears could finally hear again. You heard heavy breaths and fast heartbeats. You saw Jongho’s hooded eyes as he looked over your fucked out body and expression. He was flushed and sweaty, his hair messy, damp, and curled in front of his eyes.
Your tear stained cheeks were kissed by a panting Jongho as he leaned over you. He pressed soft kisses all over your sweaty face and neck. He purred, his chest pressed to yours in a loose, tired hug.
You felt so full, but in an instinctually content way. This was how you were meant to be. Your alpha covered you in gentle warmth, his seed deep inside, his cock plugging the hole that belonged to him. It made you so sleepy. Safe and sleepy.
“You did so good, Jongie,” Wooyoung purred. “It felt good, didn’t it?”
Jongho hummed, his voice low and rough from his performance a few seconds before. “So good,” he mumbled, grinding his hips lightly against yours. You both groaned at the feeling, a spike of soft pleasure alarming your quieted arousal.
“Stay still, alpha,” Wooyoung said, stroking his hair gently. “Wait for it to go down.”
He nodded, raising his head and sitting up a bit. It disturbed the stillness of your position and brought another soft moan to your lips. Jongho frowned. Once he was completely sitting up, he looked down at where you were connected and took a deep breath.
“What’s wrong, Jongie?” Wooyoung asked, but he was quickly answered by the spike of aroused pheromones from the alpha.
Jongho looked up with a trembling lip and tears in his eyes. “Feels so good,” he mumbled. “I want more.” He sniffed. “But I can’t, right?”
Wooyoung frowned sympathetically. He knew you probably couldn’t take an entire new round. Jongho was rough, and you were inexperienced to the exhaustion that came with an alpha’s knot. Your eyes were hardly open, your head limp against his shoulder. You were too fucked out, too out of it to even register the conversation.
His knot still locked you together, so Wooyoung was careful when laying you softly on the mattress, your head on the pillow so you could comfortably drift off to sleep.
Jongho was completely hard again, panting and flushed as he forced himself to stay still. Wooyoung knelt beside him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
“Our baby alpha’s so knot drunk, huh?” he teased, watching as Jongho nodded, probably not even understanding a word the omega was saying. He just wanted to feel good again. “It’s alright, baby,” he cooed. “I’ll let you fuck me, okay?”
Jongho didn’t answer. His eyes went wide, and his need to rut was getting fucking . Wooyoung stripped, his cock so fucking hard and slick streaming down his thighs from having to watch everyone else feel good without him.
As soon as Jongho’s knot went down, he slid out of you slowly and patiently. Then he immediately pinned Wooyoung to the bed, growling eagerly as he thrusted his cock into the omega’s waiting pussy. He let out a vocal, satisfied sigh as he stroked the omega’s walls with his thick, needy cock. The omega purred, moaning happily as Jongho set an uncontrolled pace. His hyung could take it. He folded Wooyoung’s knees over his arms and rammed into his hole, watching his cock bounce uselessly on his stomach.
Wooyoung’s eyes rolled back, drool slipping down his cheek as he let the alpha take him raw and hard. It was so rewarding after practically begging the man to fuck him for months. Jongho’s breath hitched as he quickly began to lose himself again. Wooyoung was so perfect for his huge cock. He took him so well, his hold meant for this rough treatment. Fuck, he would do this every day. He would make his hyung feel good if it meant he could feel like this.
“H-hyung!” he moaned, folding over and smashing his lips to Wooyoung’s. “Hyung!” he cried against his lips, rutting into the omega without even pulling out properly. He was so desperate to cum again, to fill his hyung and be a good boy. His knot was growing, and his thrusts became harsher as he forced his bulging cock in and out.
“Fuck! Jongho!” Wooyoung screamed as the alpha bruised his g-spot with each ravaging ram of his hips. “Fuck, what a good boy ngh~! So good! Shit, baby, keep going… knot me, Jongie mm~!”
“Hyung, I’m gonna-!” Wooyoung smashed their lips together, his tongue lapping against his, tasting him and swallowing his moans as he pushed his knot inside.
Jongo came with muffled cries of pure pleasure as he painted Wooyoung’s walls white. Wooyoung pushed his hips up with a gasp as he left Jongho’s lips and dropped his jaw, rolling his eyes to squeeze them shut. Ropes of cum shot from his untouched cock, covering his chest and dripping from his chin. Wooyoung panted heavily as spurts of cum dripped from his cock for second after second. He could hardly calm down, even when his high had passed. He trembled and whimpered quietly, his cock falling limp on his stomach.
“You two are so beautiful,” Jongho said, gazing in awe at his two dazed, flushed omegas. Your eyes were hardly open, but you managed to smile at him, a small blush returning to your cheeks. Wooyoung was too stuck in his thoughts to hear the alpha at all.
“Hyung?” Jongho mumbled, a little worried he'd overdone it.
“Jongho,” he started, his voice dead serious. Jongho swallowed hard. Had he not done a good job after all? “How… did you make me cum that much… completely untouched?”
“What?”
“Not even an orgasm. You made me cum. A lot.” His eyes were wide and confused.
“Um…”
Wooyoung sat up quickly and pushed Jongho onto his back, following him with his hips to keep them connected.
“Do it again.”
“What?!”
The door slammed against the wall, and an angry beta stormed into the room. “Ya!”
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“I’m seriously fine,” you insisted.
You smiled awkwardly at the beta, San, who was constantly trying to peel Jongho from you. The alpha was attached to you, his arms wrapped around your torso as he buried his nose in the nape of your neck. He was sulking. He was upset that he’d been bad for his hyungs again and touched you, though it was 100% Wooyoung’s fault.
“Why don’t you ever hug me?” Wooyoung mumbled, glaring at the alpha as he silently sniffled into your scent.
“I’m sorry, for causing trouble,” you said, taking a deep breath as you were finally able to say what you’d been thinking the whole time. “Wooyoung, I can’t thank you enough for taking me in.” You were going to cry. “You really saved me. They would’ve…”
Jongho squeezed you tighter, almost protectively as he heard your words and smelled your souring scent. It calmed you quickly, and you took a shaky breath.
“I’ll repay your kindness, I promise. For now, I’ll stop causing you trouble and lea-”
“You can stay,” Wooyoung interrupted. “You can stay. If you want to. We want you to stay.”
Jongho nodded against your shoulder.
You stared at him in silence. Stay? You’d always been on the run. You’d never had a home because of your debt. You turned to San, who nodded casually.
“We want you to join our pack,” San explained. “But you should get to know us first. And… our situation is a bit unique. But we’d love to have you. After everything, you’re already family to Wooyoung and Jongho. So… you’re family to all of us.”
This man you’d just met was saying that. Even after all of the trouble you’d caused Jongho and Wooyoung, they still wanted you.
“You can think about-”
“I’ll stay,” you said, completely certain. Jongho purred against you, his lips forming a big smile. “I don’t think Jongho would let me leave anyway.”
a/n ~ Thank you so much for reading!! I hope the plot wasn't too bulky compared to the smut. I tried to find a balance. I really hope you liked it! Please let me know what you thought!!
TW/: Reader having rude parents, crying, fluff and reader yelling and a shitty oneshot !
You missed Hongjoong dearly and your parents were not making it better. "I don't understand how you fell in love with a 'singer' Y/N you could've dated a doctor or CEO." It was constant nagging about who YOU dated. Hongjoong was the sweetest you ever met, He brought your mom flowers every time they visited, He even sent your mom flowers for her birthday and mother's day. You only came back "Home" for you parent's anniversary. If it wasn't for that you wouldn't be there you would've been in comfy clothes cuddled up to your boyfriend sound asleep. As of right now you were in heel and a dress catching out on distant cousins boring life while your parents were dancing and having fun. Your phone vibrated you unlocked the messages to see the contact was hongjoong.
Joong <3 - hey baby how are you feeling?
You - hey .. just tired and ready to go home and be with you.
Joong <3 - you come home tonight baby just try to hang in there a little longer.
You - I can try.
You felt an urge of relief and all the tension in your shoulders were released after getting a message from the only person in the world who makes you feel comfortable. "Y/N! What are you'd doing don't be rude and all up in your phone when your cousins are trying to talk to you!" Your father says waving his arms and down. "Sorry?" You said rolling your eyes. man you could wait until tonight.
As the night ended and everyone was leaving your parents house, you rushed to put some comfy clothes on and take your makeup off to get ready to get on the plane to see your loving boyfriend. "You're ready to leave already?" Your mother scoffed. "Yeah?" You replied dryly putting your bags near the front door. "Pathetic." Your dad spat throwing away another paper plate. You rolled your eyes. "You know what's pathetic is you two trying to run my life. I'm 23 years old with my own life, job and boyfriend. I am not your redo. It shouldn't bother you who I date, if I'm happy that's all that matters." You yelled at them. rubbing your temples sighing. "It was a wonderful stay with you two." You announced as you grabbed in your bags and walked out the door. Your parents stood there in shock as you walked out and shut the door behind you. As you arrived to the airport, you got a bunch of messages from family members calling you 'rude' 'disrespectful' 'ungrateful' 'bitch' 'asshole' and more. You turned off your phone while you were on the plane until you arrived home that's when you saw him. Your loving boyfriend hongjoong standing in the bedroom fixing his hair in the mirror. "Joong" You said breathless hugging him tightly. "Hey babydoll..I missed you." You're so relieved you started tearing up once your started to remember what happened before you left to go to the airport. "Hey.. Baby what's wrong talk to me." You explained everything from start to finish. "Hey hey it's okay." Hongjoong said to you as he lead you to the bed and laid down with you as he kissed your forehead.
"I got you baby"
Nasias notes: I wrote this at 5:36 am.. so sorry if it sucks!
summary: After getting a taste of your blood, San dedicates himself entirely to you — whether you want him to or not.
wc: 5.6k
general warnings: non-con elements, pheromone-induced ‘consent’ but reader resists at first, blood drinking, reader’s blood literally drives San crazy, he is delusional and obsessed and thinks it’s love, abduction, mention of San killing a nameless stranger to feed on
smut warnings: somnophilia, praise kink, body worship, vaginal fingering / sex, creampie, spanking, cum feeding, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, biting, scratching, petnames for reader (darling, sweet girl, angel, love)
a/n: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! reader is afab & she/her pronouns are used
“You’re not supposed to keep them around this long, San.”
Yunho does not speak the words unkindly, though his disapproval is plain to hear.
“She’s different,” San says quietly, shaking his head. He doesn’t understand why Yunho can’t see that.
They’re standing in the wide, spacious living room of San’s penthouse; decorated in an elegant, bare minimalism that leaves no doubt over the many digits in his bank account’s credit balance. Yunho hangs back by the exit to the foyer, like he already knows he’ll outstay his welcome with this topic of conversation.
San is not looking at him, staring out the floor-length window with his forearm leaned against the glass, tinted with a special filter for his safety during daylight. But the sun has not risen yet, though the city is already bustling with activity in the early morning. From this height, San can barely make out the specks of people on the sidewalks and in their cars; their minute size reflecting their significance.
Yunho’s objections are irrelevant, he tells himself, deafening his ears to the truth in that question. He has to, if the alternative is to give you up. He can’t.
Ever since San found you, a chance meeting at a hotel bar, he has been enamoured by you. Your tinkling laugh, the sway of your hips, that wicked glint in your eyes when you realised his interest. You made him work for it, to persuade you up to his room, but not too hard. Just a little game, both of you pretending that you hadn’t decided to fuck yourself senseless on his cock from the moment you laid eyes on him.
Yes, he’d been taken with you from the start — but it wasn’t until the elevator ride up to his hotel room that San realised you were more than just a simple, if particularly delectable, meal.
There San had gotten a proper whiff of you, undiluted by the smells of food and drinks and other patrons.
You’d moaned when he pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, nerves creeping into the edge of your voice. You had also finally realised that San was more than just a simple, if particularly delectable, one-night stand; some primal part of your brain warned you of danger.
It hadn’t mattered at that point. You mumbled something about having left your phone down at the bar, trying to untangle yourself from San’s grip — but all he had to do was grab your waist tighter, yanking you back against his body as he testingly lapped at your jugular. San’s hunger was growing, and you had been powerless against the instinctive push of pheromones dousing your susceptible human brain. From then on, you were a willing banquet for him to feast on.
(Still, San was generous. He still let you fuck yourself senseless on his cock.)
The longer he’d fed on you, the more he was dizzied by your scent; like he was breathing in oxygen for the first time in over six-hundred years. Your voice, sweet in your cries, pleading for him like he was the only lifeline still binding you to this mortal coil. Your taste… San never tasted anyone like you before.
Like you are his lifeline, your blood hot in his gut, saturating his veins with essential nutrition. Liquid sunlight, warming him from the inside. No one else tastes like this. No one else feels like this.
All of his plans were thrown out the window; to wipe the questionable details from your mind and abandon you before morning light. Instead he had taken you with him, given you a home, devoted himself to you with every fibre of his being.
His dedication never wavered, even when you began to resist the haze of his subjugation; when you no longer understood that everything San does, he does out of love for you.
But it’s not your fault — and San is not so fickle as to abandon you now. His loyalty is stronger than your blindness to it.
So how dare Yunho tell him it’s time to let you go?
“For fuck’s sake, at least turn her if you’re so attached to your little toy,” Yunho continues, and San’s face twitches at the blatant disrespect of you. A toy? “It’d be a kindness, and not only to her. Sannie, I’m worried about you.”
“It’s time for you to go home, Yunho. The sun is about to rise,” San says coolly, not even taking his eyes off the city skyline to see his oldest friend off.
Yunho lets out a frustrated sigh, but concedes to San’s stubbornness — for now. “This isn’t the last we’ve spoken of this,” he warns, and with that, Yunho turns away and leaves. He does not take San’s bad mood with him though; he leaves that behind to fester in San’s cold, deficient blood like a rot.
San stands alone in his luxurious penthouse, resisting a sharp urge to put his fist through the filtered glass of his window. He settles for digging his nails into his palms, a low growl escaping past his gritted teeth.
He needs you. Now more than ever.
The thought is all-consuming, hunger blazing through him. But right now, his devotion is tainted by rage, and he cannot risk to have you touched by it. San did that once, mercilessly rough as he took you; not even to feed, just to know you are his. He still has not forgiven himself for it. He never will.
But Yunho’s incessant meddling is not the only thing that has soured San’s mood — and it only makes his need worse.
San knows he has to be mindful of your health, allowing you time to recover between feedings. And so he hunted fresh prey, just a few days ago. It had been a brutish affair, sloppy and violent. San had almost gagged on the young man’s blood, a vile and repugnant liquor compared to yours, and left a scene of savage destruction behind.
(Hongjoong had arranged a clean-up afterwards, for which he’d heatedly told San off. Come to think of it, Hongjoong probably sent Yunho today too. He needs to stop fucking coddling San just because he is a few centuries younger. San could’ve handled it himself.)
Days later, the taste of inferior blood still lingers on San’s tongue, streams through his veins, and his craving for you becomes too powerful to withstand. He yearns for a sustenance and a comfort only you can provide; his previous feeding has proved as much.
No, San cannot go back to an existence without you.
Restlessly he paces across his home, through the spacious living room past the gallery and the master bedroom, all the way to a wide terrace that looks over the bay. Sometimes he takes you there, at night when the stars are bright, but the sun is already out. San ignores the terrace, heading to a relatively modest bedroom tucked into the corner of the penthouse.
A small, delicate silver key hangs on an equally delicate silver chain around his neck, resting on his chest. He takes off the necklace and uses the key to unlock the door to your room.
With his hand resting on the doorknob, San takes a deep, grounding breath. Already he can smell you through the white-painted wood, and just a faint whiff is enough to blunt the edges of his frustrations, while sharpening his hunger.
He opens the door.
Inside, he finds you laying motionless on a large mahogany bed underneath a wide, open skylight. Your nude body is sprawled over the velvet sheets, bathed in the warmth of the morning sun. At peace in your sleep. There is a golden cuff fastened around your ankle, with a long narrow chain to the wall; sometimes your confused mind beckons you to flee, to make some misguided escape attempt, but the chain protects you from making such mistakes.
San closes the door behind him as quietly as he can, careful not to wake you. Reverently, he watches your sleeping form, drinking in the sight of your steady breathing, how your skin glows in the unfiltered sunlight. Light that is deadly to him, but nurturing to you.
His eyes find the three scabbed-over bite marks on your naked body; on your neck, your inner thigh, and your wrist. San is partial to your thigh, mingling the sweet flavours of arousal and blood as he feeds, but every single one of them sings to him right now — angelic temptation.
Still, he resists a moment longer. He likes watching you sleep; the slow rhythm of your chest as you draw breath, your steady heartbeat thumping through peaceful dreams. He hates watching you sleep; to see you in a state of blissful serenity that only the oblivion of unconsciousness brings. He tries to give you that same peace in the waking world, tries so hard, but you struggle against it more and more.
He yearns to touch you, to remind you of true bliss, but even a mere step forward would make him burn in the sun’s light.
Some days he wants to. Wants to burn for you. Perhaps if you saw the true depths of his devotion, you would finally stop forgetting.
“She’s already growing immune, isn’t she?”
Yunho’s words echo through him, mockingly. Now that Yunho is gone, San can begrudgingly admit their truth. Your body is instinctively building a harmful resistance to his pheromones, like a dangerous bacterial strain resisting antibiotics. All San wants to do is cure your hurts, but your own physiology is cruelly sabotaging your happiness.
San’s fingers itch as he gets antsy. He’ll fix it. He’ll fix you. He will find a way.
He flicks a switch on the wall and the solar blinds go down. You stir at the faint whirring noise, whimper instinctively when shade encroaches on your naked body. You do not wake. Not yet.
Soon the room is engulfed in darkness, but San sees you clearly. Still, for your sake he lights a few candles, bathing the room in a different warm glow. Then he slowly shucks his clothes, dark eyes pinned on your slumbering figure.
The mattress dips as San joins you, the sheets still warmed by the sun. It makes San’s skin itch, but all discomfort fades when he turns you onto your side and curls up behind you, finding refuge in your body heat. San groans as you envelop his senses, and he noses at the bite mark on your neck.
You belong to him. It’s time to remind you of that.
Peaceful dreams still have you in their clutches, so you do nothing except sigh softly when San runs his palm over your plush thigh, then hooks your leg over his to open you up for him. A sigh becomes a moan when his fingers part your lower lips; sleep renders you almost as pliant as San’s subjugation does — even if it does not taste as sweet.
By now, San has mapped out your body’s every pleasure-point through his thorough explorations. Knows exactly how to press down against your clit to have your muscles twitching under his insistent touch. He hums in satisfaction at how easily his devoted fingers coax forth the slick between your thighs. It gives him hope.
San’s breath picks up at your heightened arousal, his otherwise useless blood rushing down to his cock. How wonderful would it be, if you are already brought under his spell once you awaken? He groans at the thought, muffling his sounds with an open-mouthed kiss against your neck. You squirm against him; your body is starting to wake, even if your mind is not quite there yet.
He suckles at the precious scab on your neck, canines elongating as he grinds against your backside. His razor-sharp teeth scrape against the scar that he has reopened over and over again — but San hisses, somehow finding the strength to pull back.
He mustn’t feed on you, not yet. Only when you want him to.
Two of his thick fingers have moved down, now buried knuckle-deep into your sopping heat. The faint squelch of it threatens to drive San mad just as much as your scent does, his every sense overwhelmed by the existence of you. He whines, barely able to keep himself from rutting into you when your hips jerk involuntarily against his fingers.
San knows immediately when you wake.
He senses the jolt in your heartbeat, hears the sharp catch of breath, feels how you stiffen in his arms. A muted shock rushes through your body as your mind tries to process what is happening to it.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” San shushes immediately, pressing a soft kiss against your temple. “It’s just me. You’re safe with me.”
But San’s dreams that you would awaken safely under his influence are shattered when you let out a pained whimper. You weakly shake your head, trembling as awareness of your current situation swiftly dawns on you. Feeble hands push at his arms.
“No,” you croak out, voice hoarse from sleep. “Hm, n-no— hmm, hmgh—“
You gasp as San’s fingers return to your clit, rubbing slow circles intended to soothe. “Yes,” he purrs. “Just let it happen, my love.”
He grunts as your nails claw at his wrist, some strength flowing back into your body as your consciousness comes back to you. Your other hand reaches to push at his face — but San’s sharp teeth nip at your fingers in warning when you almost scratch at his eyes, and you flinch away to yank at his hair instead.
Irritation and heartache pang through San’s chest at your incomprehension, and he helplessly listens to your babbled, futile protests. Soon. It will all be better soon.
“Please, stop—”
You break on the word with a wretched sob, a tear escaping your lashes. San’s heart wrenches at the sight. He does not like to see you cry, not when it’s like this. “No no no, darling,” he murmurs gently, the glide of his fingers easy through your sodden folds. “It’s okay, it will be okay… Don’t cry, you feel good — aren’t I making you feel good?”
You merely sob again, twisting against his hold, but San has you pulled too tightly against his chest. He feels your body tense, smells the unwanted pleasure buzzing through your veins. You gnaw at your bottom lip to bite down the moans rising from your lungs, but San will not allow you to fight it. He leans over your shoulders, licking into your mouth until your jaw slackens and your moans spill free. (You dare not bite his tongue. That’s a lesson you did not forget.)
“That’s it, that’s my sweet girl,” San praises. “Let me hear you.”
Your protests have died down to nothing but hitched breaths and hiccups, unable to back away from the inevitable precipice that San pushes you towards. All your instincts contradict one another, wanting to escape, wanting to chase this bright, fiery thread of pleasure until you are unravelled into nothing but pure rapture.
You choke back a throttled cry, grinding back against San’s cock. He whines at the friction, but stays focused on you; you come first. You always do. It won’t be much longer now.
He can tell by the way your thighs tremble, how your legs try to lock around his fingers. Your scent is overwhelming now; dizzying San’s mind with no thoughts of anything but to shatter your existence into bite-sized pieces. Still you try to resist, but San overwhelms you in turn, mouthing at your neck and working your puffy clit. The pitch of your moans rise, chest heaving with shuddering gasps, until you seize up with a strangled sob. Fresh slick gushes onto his fingers and San does not stop, thrusting three glistening fingers inside you to fuck you through your unwilling release.
“Please, please stop,” you sob, mewling with every aftershock that jolts through you. You beg him endlessly, convulsing in his arms — but then your scent changes, and the nature of your pleas shifts into something else entirely. “S-Sannie… please…”
The fear and nausea in your scent make way for your natural sweetness, embracing San in warm welcome as you finally call his name. He whimpers in relief.
You’re here. You’ve come back to him.
“What is it, darling?” he hums, nosing at your cheek. “Tell me, what do you need?”
“San, please, n-need…” You grasp at his wrist again, keeping him firmly in place as you falter for words. Your brain is in a haze. What do you need? Why can’t you think? One moment, everything was all wrong, panic searing through your aching nerves, and now… now…
San.
You need San.
You turn your head to look at him with tearful eyes, and smile dazedly at the fondness in his gaze, filled with heated affection. The flickering candles cast a halo of light around his face, shadows dancing over his high cheekbones and chiselled jaw.
“You… Need you closer,” you whine, aching as he smiles at you with crinkled eyes and a faint dimple. “Inside, p-please, want you inside me, San…”
The desperate yet demure request pleases him, a low noise of approval rumbling in his chest. He presses a tender kiss on your cheek, then takes out his fingers and pulls away from you.
You let out a pained moan at San’s sudden absence; to be without him hurts, the mere thought bringing about an excruciating burn inside your head. There is a strange pressure inside your skull, like a deeply buried thought tries to claw to the surface. But the pain is replaced by equal heights of bliss when San gathers you into his arms again, wrapping around you like a protective blanket.
He only moved to sit up against the headboard, now guiding you into his lap. You come willingly, eagerly, sighing in relief as his hands run over your feverish skin.
“There you go, my angel,” San rasps, restlessly grabbing at your waist to rock you into his hard cock. “So sweet, so good to me. Come, take what you want. I’m all yours, love.”
You whine at his offer and San’s lips spread into a slow, satisfied smile at your neediness. This is how it is supposed to be.
His eyes are drawn downward to your hands, and he grunts as you stroke him slowly, as though testing the warmth and thickness of him in your palm. Already he is leaking from the tip, a primal frenzy nudging at the back of his skull. Hunger.
Thankfully, you don’t make him wait long before you lift your hips and finally sink down on him. San throws back his head with a low growl, the pulsing wet heat of your cunt threatening to tear his self-control to shreds. His fangs have protracted fully, itching to seek out your veins.
Not yet, he reminds himself again, straining against his own impatience. But he needs to watch as you ride him; to see you use him for your own pleasure. To know his all-encompassing desire for you is returned in kind.
You provide him exactly what he craves.
Within mere moments, the candle-lit room is filled with your unabashed whines and the lewd slap of skin-on-skin as you bury San’s thick cock in your tight heat over and over again. Your pace is frantic, shameless in your desperation as you cling onto San’s wide shoulders, your nails close to drawing blood. The irony of that is not lost on him.
San’s head has fallen back, his jaw slack as he draws heavy breaths, utterly entranced by your depravity.
He lovingly admires the glow of sweat on your skin, beads trickling down the valley of your breasts that bounce with every snap of your hips. San is of half a mind to add a fourth bite to his collection on your body, draining you right over your heart. He licks his lips, groaning tightly when you grab his hand and move it from your hip to your backside.
San gives it an appreciative squeeze, but you shake your head and whine loudly.
Ah… message received.
You don’t flinch when San’s lips spread into a wide grin, his fangs on full display. He loves you for that.
He also loves the way your entire body jolts when his palm sharply lands on your ass. Your rhythm falters when he strikes again, your arms trembling as you struggle to remain upright.
“Want more, my love?” San croons, and draws his tongue across his deadly canines. A hot wire thrums through him when you mewl in confirmation, though he can tell you are getting tired. Stamina is not your greatest strength, not with your necessary confinement — but you always give him everything, wearing yourself out on his thick cock until your muscles give in.
Every smack of San’s hand against your rear is received with your loud keening, eyes squeezing shut. Tears streak down your cheeks, and San’s cock twitches inside your throbbing cunt. The shimmering wetness on your skin is a thing of beauty to him now; so overwhelmed by pleasure that your body seeks release anywhere, even in your tears.
San bucks up at the same time that his hand connects with your ass again, and you wail at the impact, crumpling against his chest. Weakly you cling onto his shoulders, moaning pitifully when San continues to roll his hips.
“Good, feels so good… Sannie…” you babble against his collarbone, the words tripping over your clumsy tongue. “Want… want…”
Your tongue darts out against his neck and without further warning, your teeth sink into his skin.
San grunts in surprise at the sudden sting, but then he chuckles breathlessly at your precious attempt to bite him. Your canines are uselessly blunt compared to his, only capable of breaking skin with the greatest effort — and you are already far too fucked out for that.
“Oh darling,” he coos, tipping up your chin. “Is that what you want? Then show me, my love.”
You snivel adorably, tilting your head to offer up the mark on your neck to San’s hungry mouth. Your quiet submission sears through his body, down to his crotch and his stomach, and San presses his nose against the old bite, breathing in deeply.
You whimper as he drags the flat of his tongue over the half-healed scab. Just a faint scrape of his teeth first, not enough to break skin, only to revel in the anticipation. Your heartbeat quickens, blood pulsing under his lips. San can wait no longer.
His eyes roll back with an animalistic snarl as he descends, fangs piercing through skin with ease. He growls at the first pull of blood, metallic sweetness coating his lips and tongue as your essence floods his senses.
“Yes, yes— Ah, ah, ahhh…” You arch your back into him, slowly rolling your hips in time with San’s noisy, messy slurps. Your fingers tangle into his hair, holding him in place as he drinks deep.
Euphoria.
Pure euphoria.
Drowning in you, in the sublime intoxication. San can barely feel his body anymore, only distantly aware of you rutting tiredly into him, of how he humps upward with increasing force as he loses himself in your taste.
He does hear your cries of delirious ecstasy, right by his ear when his hand slides between your bodies to find your clit on pure instinct. With his cock and fangs buried inside you, you reach your zenith with violent force, convulsing underneath his blood-stained mouth.
San grabs tighter onto you as you writhe, forcing you to stay in place as he drinks unrelentingly. He groans at how you clench around his cock, hips stuttering as he finds release — but even that is drowned out by the frenzy of his feed, mindlessly fucking his seed deeper into your cunt while he sucks at your wound, trying not to spill any of your precious liquor.
Slowly your whines die down and you start to go limp in San’s arms, just as he grows lethargic in the aftermath of his indulgence, his hunger finally sated.
You let out a weak moan when his fangs retract with a wet sound, and for a moment San thinks you passed out; but your eyes flutter open when he pulls out and manoeuvres you onto your back. A weak rivulet of blood drips down your shoulder, but you smile up at him with glassy eyes. He must look monstrous, redness smeared across his lips and chin, but there is nothing but want in your gaze, and San thinks that perhaps his hunger is not completely sated after all.
“Did so well, my love,” he murmurs, running his fingers up your inner thigh to catch the trickle of cum leaking out. “Always taking such good care of me.”
He offers up his glistening fingers to you, and you accept with no hesitation. Tiredly, your tongue swirls around the sticky digits, taking all that San feeds you. It only seems fair to him; exchanging one bodily essence for another. He cannot give you his blood, cannot risk accidentally turning you, but at least he can give you this.
Soon his fingers are sucked clean, but you whine as San pulls his hand back, your mouth chasing after him. “N-no, San…” Your eyes glitter with unspoken pleas, and a fond pride swells inside him at your insatiable urges.
“My sweet girl needs more, does she?” San asks, bearing down on you with a pleased smile. He drapes himself over you, humming in approval when your legs reflexively part to make room for him.
You giggle when his nose brushes against yours, his sweaty hair tickling at your face. “San, you’re a mess,” you tease, running your thumb across his lips. It comes back red.
San just moans in contentment, pressing a bloodied kiss against your cheek as he slowly grinds against your cunt. Your giggles quickly turn to gasps, wiggling underneath his persistent hips. His cock is so sensitive the friction almost hurts, but it’s all worth it when you grab onto his shoulders to pull him into a kiss, heedless of his tainted lips.
Your tongue slides against his, and San laughs into your mouth when your nose scrunches up in discontent at the strong taste of blood. As insatiable as you may be, only one of you is a true vampire. Instead San kisses a trail across your jaw, down your neck. He laps at the dried blood, the wound already closed, then suckles at the surrounding skin once you are clean. His hands wander over your body, relishing your heightened responses to his touch as he slowly works you up again.
You sigh at the soft squeeze of your breasts, back arching when his thumbs play across your nipples. San luxuriates in the curves of your body, sliding down to envelop a hardened nipple in the wet heat of his mouth. He takes his time, clever but unhurried fingers teasing deftly between your thighs.
Breathy moans echo through the quiet bedroom, languid pleasure gradually shifting to something more urgent. You start grasping at his shoulders, tell him to fill you up already, and San has never been one to deny you.
He hisses as he gives his cock a few more strokes, but ignores all sensitivity to please you, to plunge his thick length back inside your sopping cunt, drenched with seed and arousal. San bottoms out in one smooth thrust, knocking the air out of your lungs. You gasp for breath as he starts a steady rhythm, careful to find the exact angle he knows will have you seeing stars behind your eyelids.
The lethargy of his feed forces San to take it slow, settling for deep, intense thrusts to have your toes curl into the sheets. He cages you between his elbows, pressing shallow kisses on your lips; but the taste of blood has faded enough that you can happily accept his mouth, tongues gliding against each other in a sloppy tangle.
You moan as San’s pace picks up, wrapping your legs around his waist. The cuff on your ankle presses against his lower back, and a tinge of bittersweetness invades San’s palate at the reminder that it’s is not always like this. But he shakes it off, choosing to stay submerged in pure sweetness for now. Enjoy the moment. Enjoy you.
The slow roll of his hips turns to powerful thrusts as his sluggishness fades, his strength now boosted by the fresh, invigorating effect of your blood. Soon the bed is rattling at the onslaught of his force — he is fucking bruises into your hips, he is sure of it, but still you beg for more, for him. He gives it all.
“So good, fucking me so well,” you keen, and San glows at your praise, spurring him on harder.
He does not slow down when you seize up around him; fucking you through your orgasm, through your body’s attempts to clamp down on him. He hisses at the tightness of your cunt but does not stop, does not relent until you’re sobbing underneath him, your hands clutching at his sweat-slicked back. His muscles ripple with every merciless thrust, low grunts escaping him as his own release draws near, but San pushes through with gritted teeth, fixated on the unrestrained pleasure that contorts your face.
Sweat drips from his hair onto your cheeks, your body jostled helplessly by the rough snap of his hips. Your voice fails you, moans catching soundlessly in your throat as you tense around his cock again. San reaches down a hand to find your swollen clit, groans when it barely takes a touch for you to release a choked up cry — and this time San can’t fight the way you clench around him. He buries his face in your shoulder as he whines, filling you up just as you’d begged him to. He grabs onto your hips to hold your squirming body still as he bucks into you a few more times, his cum leaking past his cock and mingling with your juices, smeared across your thighs and his pelvis.
With a final whine, San pulls out and collapses by your side, his legs tangled with yours.
He recovers slowly, gasping for breath, and his heart clenches when you curl up into him, wiggling yourself between his arms for his embrace.
San is not sure how long you lay there like that, with him gently patting your hair, your quiet breaths falling on his chest. Your heartbeat steadies slowly, and it pains San when he decides it is time to pull away.
As he predicted, you babble tired protests at once, weakly clutching at his arm as you beg him not to go. He allows himself a contented smile, but shakes his head at your pleas.
“You need to eat,” he points out, though he can’t help but shower you with kisses. He smothers you in affection until you’re breathless and whining — which is one way to silence your protests, he supposes — but San cannot be so selfish to stay and do it all over again. He needs to take care of you. “I’ll be right back with some breakfast, alright? You need to regain your strength,” he soothes. “After, we can take a bath together, how does that sound?”
San’s tender kisses have put a dopey smile on your face, and you nod sluggishly at his proposal. “That sounds perfect,” you admit. “Just… come back soon, okay?”
“I will,” he promises, raising your hand to his lips to press a last kiss to the scab on your wrist.
San puts on a comfortable robe that he keeps in your room for just this sort of occasion, then exits, locking the door behind him out of habit. He tries not to rush himself, but still he can’t help but hurry his steps as he picks up an already prepared breakfast from the kitchen. He does not want to return to find you have abandoned him again already.
An uneasy sense of foreboding fills him as he returns to your room. The waft of sex and blood still hangs heavily in the corridor, masking your scent as he unlocks the door again in frustrated impatience. San swallows thickly, praying his bad feeling is just that; a feeling.
But the door swings open, and San knows at once. He does not even need to smell you; your freshly tear-stained, puffy cheeks already tell him that it is too late, your heartbeat spiking harshly at his return. Your arms tremble as you inch back on the bed, subtly as though you do not want to anger him, but still putting as much distance between you and San as possible.
It takes everything for San not to recoil from your sudden rejection of his gift. His fingers clench around the breakfast tray, grief burning behind his eyes. He swears, it did not used to wear off this fast.
“She’s already growing immune, isn’t she?”
Shut the fuck up, Yunho.
San shakes his head, collecting himself. It’s no matter. He sets the tray down on a side-table, and gently approaches your shaking form on the bed. He will drag you back to him again, as many times as he has to.
Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’
pairing: ateez x fem reader
genre: cult au, thriller, angst
check warnings on AO3
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chapter word count: 14,305
chapter warnings: alcohol consumption
Your month drags on. Despite the heightened activity around the farm, nothing much changes in your day-to-day schedule. You wake up at the same time, listen to Hongjoong ramble for the same amount of time, eat the same meals with the same people, and eventually sleep at the same time. Even book club is monotonous, barely even happening— but that might have more to do with the fact that Seonghwa (who conducts most of your lessons) seems even less enthused about having to spend an hour talking to you than you are.
Which is strange— ish. Not that you expected much different from him, but you had thought that… or, well, at least, you weren’t feeling such a burning hatred for him anymore, so, maybe…
But that’s silly. Of course Seonghwa still doesn’t give a rat's ass about you, why would he? All you’ve ever done is be a pain in his side. Even when he’s… comforted you in the past… its been to relieve his own discomfort or guilty conscious, not to actually help you. Probably.
You truly have no idea. Seonghwa is an enigma.
In a way, though, you’re glad that he’s at least mostly off your case. Maybe due to your slight mental breakdown after seeing the… thing… Seonghwa seems to be less eager to poke fun at you. Not nice by any standards, but he’s certainly less devious around you.
Which also means that he hasn’t been prying into your personal life. Thankfully. With the secret of your escape looming over your every thought, it would be just like you to accidentally slip-up in front of Seonghwa and blow the whole thing.
Instead, he keeps things very formal. He doesn’t put his hands on you, he doesn’t stare at your face with that scrunched-up look, he doesn’t ask questions about you or your day or San or anything else. He talks to you about The Answer and lets you leave after.
Though the arrangement is a bit startling at first, you get used to it quickly. Hongjoong appears less and less at these meetings, not even making an appearance in the last two weeks of the month. You have no idea what he could possibly be so busy doing, but you’re not complaining.
Over the course of the month, there were several more rituals, similar to the tune of the one that you had participated in. Luckily, you were not called to participate in any of them, and no more— and your hesitant to even give whatever happened a name, but— Guardians appear to confuse and scare the everliving fuck out of you.
More and more, you find yourself absentmindedly reaching to touch the pins on the collar of your shirt, fiddling with them whenever your hands are free. You want to think that it has nothing to do with Hongjoong’s bullshit about the Sign protecting you… and it doesn’t! Not at all! That would be crazy! It’s just a habit. Like spinning a ring or twisting a necklace.
… You’ll go with that, anyways.
Occasionally, you still have nightmares about your encounter. What a horrible night that all was. Obviously, there still is nothing in you that can believe that Guardians are real. That would be silly. And insane. But it’s only natural that you’re still upset about the whole situation. Whatever had happened, it had scared the shit out of you. It affected you— it makes sense that your subconscious would be fixated on such a traumatic memory.
Right…? Or maybe you’re still actively thinking about that night and what the fuck had happened. Could it have been what Hongjoong said? Could he be right? Or were you blitzed out on some mysterious drug and everyone else was just lying about what they saw? Could Hongjoong manage that?
He probably could. It couldn’t be that hard for him to convince the entire cult into gaslighting you into believing that they had all seen the thing, too. But San… He wouldn’t lie to you about it, right? You find that very hard to believe.
Thinking on it, San had, of course, never outright said that he had seen the same thing as you— you had never spoken in detail with him about it… But he was disturbed enough to set your escape into motion, which must count for something. Maybe he had seen a Guardian and was terrified enough to run.
These sorts of thoughts dominate your month.
You had volunteered to help out with the harvest, almost pleading with San for something to do. You were sure that Wooyoung would take your help back in the kitchens, but Hongjoong denied you any opportunity that seemed to come your way. He wanted you with San, where he could see you.
Which is stupid, in your opinion. Hongjoong has the Followers, all of whom are incredibly devoted to him; any of them would give you up in a heartbeat if they saw you trying anything that you shouldn’t. He could assign literally anyone to watch you while you did a task, and it would achieve the same thing as having San at your side. But no. You were forced to rot in your apartment, glancing over San’s shoulder to his laptop on occasion, hoping to see something that could brighten your mood (or give you more information).
Most of the time, you watch out your window, hoping to snag another glance at Mingi. There are a few times when you can see him in the field, but the Followers make quick work of the harvest nearest the compound, and move farther and farther away as the month rolls onward. Sometimes, you swear you can see his hair in the distance, reflecting the sun so brightly. It gets harder and harder to remember why you fought. Why you were holding a grudge. Could you really blame him for having your best interests at heart?
Sure, he had been a little possessive and freaky, but, like, he was kind of telling the truth. And he was just trying to make sure that San wasn’t hurting you.
You’re probably just making excuses for him, now, as you miss his company. Here you were, a cult member, locked away in an apartment, all for him— and you don’t even have him. You can’t even speak with him freely. The irony isn’t lost on you.
Anyways, it doesn’t come as much of a shock when Hongjoong announces that the harvest is complete. Though the month might have been one of the longest of your life, watching the field workers get farther and farther away everyday at least gave you a sense of time passing. When even their tractors were tiny specks that you could hardly see without squinting, it was clear that the work was almost finished.
The announcement is met with much fanfare, though you’re not sure why. From what you make of it, Halloween is always the date on which the harvest celebration occurs. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise that the harvest is over, especially with the date looming so soon, but the Followers all seem overjoyed. Maybe they’re all just ready to relax after a long, toiling month.
That said, the day itself comes much faster than you anticipated. Hongjoong made the announcement of the end of the Harvest on the 25th of the month, leaving six days between the sermon for celebration and the actual ceremony itself.
Which left you with six days to finish your mental preparations for your escape.
San had refined your plan over the month, including making a timeline of the night and the places you should find yourself. He took over the entire plan, which you really couldn’t be more thankful for. His knowledge of the farm and the workings of the cult provided a level of security that you would have never been able to achieve on your own.
In essence, the plan remained the same. When the ceremonial party began at 6pm, you would have nothing to worry about… besides socializing for the next nine hours. Just follow the vibes, and you would be okay. San was sure that you would have free reign during the party, that you’d be allowed to be away from a higher-ups side once the alcohol was flowing. At three, you would meet with San near the front doors, trying to not be seen, and make your way into the woods beyond the compound, where San will have stashed your car in the days leading up to the ceremony (it was as he was telling you this that he admitted to having the keys to your car in his office this entire time).
Despite the simplicity of the plan, you figured that it would probably work. As long as you didn’t raise any suspicions in the coming days, and as long as everything went smoothly on Halloween, there was no reason to dwell on the possibility of it failing.
Another failed escape attempt was unlikely to be something that you would survive, you knew this. Even with Hongjoong’s delusional belief that you are someone important to him and his religion, you weren’t sure he could tolerate this level of disobedience— at the very least, it would be disastrous if you failed. At worst, you would be leading San and yourself to early graves.
Maybe Hongjoong’s twisted dependence on you would mean that he couldn’t kill you… But you weren’t going to count on it. He had threatened your life in the past, and you were quite certain that he meant it. He would be able to reason out a way that killing you made sense, if you pissed him off enough.
So. You simply had to make sure that you did not fail. Because you didn’t want to find out what Hongjoong would do with you if you did.
.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.
Much like the rest of the month, the few days leading up to Halloween also fly by before you can appreciate the gravity of your situation.
Your stomach churns all morning. You chalk it up to nerves, the most obvious explanation for an upset stomach, but part of you wonders if there wasn’t something wrong with your dinner last night.
Hongjoong announces the party to be held that evening during the morning service, like San had said that he would. You wring your hands together at San’s side, avoiding Hongjoong’s eyes. There’s a small part of you that is so sure that he would be able to figure you out entirely if he got a glimpse into your eyes. You just try to focus on the activity at hand, listening to Hongjoong with an impassive look on your face.
You must do an alright job, as Hongjoong allows you to leave the chapel with San at the conclusion of the service. You’re even able to eat breakfast in peace, which actually does surprise you. Though Hongjoong had been exceedingly busy over the month, he still typically made time to freak you out most days.
But San and you are able to sneak away after breakfast, back to your apartment, without a word from anyone.
As soon as San shuts and locks the door behind him, he asks, “Are you still feeling alright? Up to this?”
You blink across the room at him, hardly needing a moment to assure him that you very much still are ready to make your escape. You ask if he’s feeling the same way, to which he agrees.
“Just a little nervous, I guess,” he explains, shrugging. “That’s normal, right?”
“Of course it is.” You’re sure that San is no stranger to Hongjoong’s wrath; you don’t need to wonder why he’s nervous. Once again, you’re struck by emotion as you realize what San is doing for you, what he’s risking and what he’s giving up.
He smiles. “What should we do, after we’re out of here?”
You sit down on the couch, thinking through your answer, “I think we should just show up on one of my friend’s doorsteps and freak the shit out of them.”
San laughs, rolling his eyes. “I meant more long-term, but we can do that, too.”
Oh… Long-term. You still hadn’t broached the subject about… well, blowing the whistle on this place again, ever since San flipped out when you suggested it. You certainly still planned on doing exactly that, and you really don’t think that you need San’s approval to do so, either. Like, if you escape and just let this be, aren’t you basically an accomplice to all of the crime?
The last thing you plan to do with your life is go to prison for Hongjoong, so you’re very much resolved in what you have to do… whether San agrees with you or not.
“Well,” you start, “when’s the last time you saw your parents? Where did you live before you came here?”
San sighs dramatically, making his way to sit next to you. “Sheesh, don’t remind me. They’re gonna kill me.”
“They’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure.” You think of your own parents, who will probably also be a little upset… but hopefully mostly pleased that you’re still alive.
San agrees with you easily enough about his parents, before adding, “Is this a bad time to mention that the Followers have been paying your rent since you went missing?” He asks, “So everything should still be there.”
You gape at him. “Are you serious? How?”
You know for a fact that your rent could only be paid through a pain in the ass portal with a very specific and strange ID and password.
He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “You had the info saved in your phone… so…”
Puzzled. You are puzzled. Why would they go to such lengths to just keep your shit in your apartment? You had long since assumed that your landlord had probably broken down the door and left your stuff on the curb.
Well, you remind yourself, it actually hasn’t been that long. Though it feels like you’ve been on this farm for the better part of your life, it has really only been… what, two and a half months? Maybe your landlord would give you some leeway, but… no need to worry about it, you guess.
But why would they even do that? It’s not like your rent was cheap. What would they gain from keeping your apartment intact? The illusion of life?
That’s probably it, you realize. Just a front to make it look like you, in fact, weren’t a missing person. Part of you wants to freak out at San, realizing that he must be the person that orchestrated all of this, but you’re too far past that. If you start being mad at him for doing his job, you’re going to have to be mad about a lot of things. Things that you can look past for the fact of what he’s helping you do tonight.
“Speaking of my phone, can I get that back?”
San, relieved that you don’t seem mad, smiles. “I’ll grab it tonight.”
“Can’t I have it now?”
He hesitates at that, inclining his head in question, “any particular reason?”
You shouldn’t need to give him a reason, so you shake your head.
“It’s probably best to keep it where it is, in case someone goes looking for it.”
… Ominous. Who would be looking for your phone?
But he’s probably right. And it’s not like there would be much to do on it, anyways. You’re not going to call the cops now, not when your escape is looming closer and closer with each minute that passes. You can’t jeopardize it now.
.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.
You’re a little surprised that dinner carries on as normal, without any extra fanfare. Though no one had mentioned one, you had kind of expected there to be another ceremony of sorts. But, no, dinner is normal. You sit with San and Wooyoung, the rest of the table almost awkwardly empty as the three of you eat in relative silence.
How is Wooyoung going to react when he wakes up tomorrow and you’re both gone? He’s going to be pissed. But, maybe, he’ll realize that you wouldn’t leave him here. Surely, after what he told you, he knows that you wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t have it in your heart to let him rot here, knowing what Hongjoong did to bend him to his will… or, at least, having an inkling of an idea.
Before you know it, Hongjoong is standing at the head of the room, commanding the attention of the cafeteria. The room falls into a hush, no one speaks as Hongjoong starts his speech.
“Everyone,” he addresses the room, “Loyal Followers of the Answer, it is with great joy that I officially conclude our harvest season.”
The room bursts into a polite applause, smiles shared around the tables as the Followers celebrate their leader’s message.
“Despite a rocky start, we were very fortunate to remain safe for the duration of the month.” Hongjoong, for the first time that day, finds your eyes. “I put my thanks in the faith of our Followers, those who kept our protections strong all month long. Though it may seem that there was no danger at all, this is only thanks to their courage.”
San reaches across the table to squeeze your hand, giving you a small smile.
“As always, we will celebrate our safety and our bountiful harvest— which Jongho assures me will last us through the winter and beyond— tonight. Everyone of age shall participate; I do not expect anyone to hold back on anyone’s account, especially not my own. This success is as much yours as it is mine.
“Please, imbibe freely, socialize freely, celebrate your victory over evil. We start now, and we will not stop until dawn.” Hongjoong grabs his glass from the table behind him, saluting the room with it before downing the amber liquid.
Again, the room applauds, though more raucously. Wooyoung excuses himself from your table, headed back to the kitchens. Soon after, Followers emerge with trays and trays of various specialty glassware, each filled with their respective (you assume) alcohols. Not long after, Wooyoung exits the kitchen with a rolling cart filled with, perhaps, more bottles of alcohol than you have ever seen in one place at one time (which was saying a lot, considering the bars you had frequented with Mingi in college).
Without anyone’s encouragement, Followers begin congregating at the front of the room, helping themselves to the multitude of drinks available. You’re even surprised to see that someone brought out a case of Coke, presumably for mixing. When was the last time you saw coke? They must’ve made a run into town recently, you realize, though it couldn’t have had the same importance as when San went.
You shrug it off. Not like it matters much, anyhow. San stands, offering his hand to you. You take it, graciously, prepared to get this night started.
.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.
There is an attempt to pace yourself, considering that you’re going to need to be at least a little coherent later tonight, but… well… it’s been a long time. And you are well aware of the fact that you have, like, basically 10 hours. That’s enough time to get drunk and then sober, if you play your cards right.
So play them, you do. San sticks to your side like glue for the first couple hours, watching you carefully as you put away more than your fair share of drinks. He drinks, as well, but nowhere near at the speed or quantity you do. You’re vaguely aware that you probably should slow down, but why would you, when you’re surrounded by… like, tons of dudes that would protect you, and you include Hongjoong in that count.
By nine, you are positively drunk, blissfully unaware of the worries from the morning. What is there to worry about? You’re having the time of your life, do you even want to leave? Why would you leave? The thought makes you laugh, not surprisingly.
You flit around the cafeteria, having lost San a while ago. Or maybe it was only a few minutes ago… It doesn’t matter. You talk to a lot of people, introducing yourself and smiling when they tell you they know who you are. It almost makes you feel a little guilty, but it mostly makes you happy. So many lovely people know your name and your face and they know that Hongjoong thinks you're so important. How amazing! Tomorrow, you probably wouldn’t be able to repeat a single one of their names, but that doesn’t matter.
The time flies as you keep talking to new people, your mind completely distracted from the plans you have for later. You do slow down your drinking, eventually, though that’s more so due to the fact that you’re too far away from the bar table to bother going back to it than anything else.
More than a few times, you find yourself staring at Mingi, and, more often than not, he’s staring at you, as well. Maybe he’s worried about you…? The thought makes you blush. Mingi… Oh, Mingi. He looks so handsome tonight, too. His hair is still red, still bright, and his outfit is beautifully fitted to his bulky body. Phew. You almost need to fan yourself.
Eventually, sometime, you’re not sure what time, you end up talking with Yunho. He is clearly not even a little bit drunk, you might even say he was stone-cold sober if not for the glass in his hands. Though you thought that he hated your guts, he still seemed a little amused by your presence, a small smile on his face as he has to catch your forearm a couple times. The drunk part of you wonders if you could get away with feeling his biceps, he’s just so tall and so handsome, but even you know it would probably be wrong to feel him up.
You couldn’t repeat a word of your conversation to anyone, not even seconds after it happened; not that you think it particularly matters. After Yunho, you find Wooyoung and Yeosang, and you can distinctly remember thanking Wooyoung for the incredible selection, but… yeah, that’s about it.
While you’re about to go talk to Jongho, who looks like he could use some company, a hand wraps around your elbow, tugging you backwards. Not one to argue, you spin around, ready to follow whoever it is. Seonghwa stares down at you, an incredulous expression on his face.
“Hi, Hwa,” you smile up at him, grabbing his free hand with yours.
His expression morphs from confusion to disgust. “Do not call me that. How much have you had to drink?”
You shrug, swinging your conjoined hands back and forth. “Enough to have a good time. What about you?”
“Certainly less than that,” he tugs you back toward the cafeteria tables that had, apparently, been mostly moved out of the way at one point. “Trust me, you don’t want to bother Jongho tonight.”
You hadn’t planned on bothering him, just keeping him company, but you figured that Seonghwa wouldn’t see it the same way.
“What time is it?” You ask him, only remembering that you’re wearing a watch after the words leave your mouth.
“10:44. Got somewhere to be?”
“Nope,” you pop the p sound, following his lead as he ushers for you to sit down at the table.
Time continues to fly by, though Seonghwa isn’t as good of a conversation partner as the other people you’ve been spending your time with. He also doesn’t let you drink anymore, instead insisting that you drink water, refilling your glass every time you empty it. Lame.
As the minutes pass, though, you can feel yourself coming back to reality. You definitely aren’t sober, very far from sober, but the lights stop being bright and you stop being amused by everything that Seonghwa says and does pretty quickly. You also excuse yourself to the restroom more than a few times, though you dutifully return to the same table each time.
The night progresses, and you find yourself making eye contact with Mingi more and more. Like, seriously, basically everytime that you happen to look at him, he’s already looking at you. Besides the one time you look over and see him engaged in conversation with Hongjoong, you appear to have his rapt attention.
You try to look around the room for San, but there are so many Followers and it’s kind of dark and you’re still not in your right mind, so you give up pretty quickly. You have no idea what it is that he could be doing, besides preparing for your escape, so you just let it be. Better to not ask after him and then have the others asking the same questions.
Though he had stopped you from drinking, Seonghwa had not stopped himself. He paces himself much better than you had, but he keeps drinking as the night wears on, eventually starting to open up a bit more with you. He also lets you get another drink, which you happily allow yourself, as you start to feel much too aware of your situation once more.
“You know,” Seonghwa mutters, leaning closer to you, “this is, essentially, Hongjoong’s birthday party.”
You pull away from him, confusion evident on your face. “It’s his birthday?”
“In a week.” He sips his drink, grimacing at the taste. “But he doesn’t make a big deal of it on the actual day, so here we are.”
You’re actually rather surprised to hear this, and from Seonghwa no less. It’s strange that Hongjoong doesn’t want his birthday to be a huge thing considering his, you know, enormous ego and narcissism issue. Maybe he doesn’t like everyone knowing how old he is. Kind of takes away the appeal, knowing that he’s… how old is he? He can’t be much older than you, just given what you know about him and Seonghwa (who you know to be the same age). You’d ask Seonghwa, but it kind of seems like he wants you to ask, so you’re not going to.
Instead, you sip your own drink, trying to look like you’re thoughtfully processing and tucking this information away for later. Why would you ever need to remember Hongjoong’s birthday, especially after tonight? Your stomach rolls over as you have this thought, the reminder of your plan being truly nauseating.
“When's your birthday?” You ask instead, propping your elbow onto the table.
Seonghwa looks momentarily taken aback, but responds easily enough, “April third.”
“Far away, then,” you frown. Another realization hits you. “You’re older than Hongjoong.”
He shrugs, “Believe it or not.”
For whatever reason, this is, in fact, slightly disconcerting.
But you ignore that feeling, opting to look around the crowded room. Hongjoong himself is mingling with Yeosang and Wooyoung, both of whom look incredibly pleased to have their leader's attention. Wooyoung is not shy with his hands, clutching the Hongjoong’s arm close to his chest as they speak. Vaguely, you wonder if he’s feeling okay. You’re still not sure how he can be so loyal to someone that apparently had him… what? Tortured? Who even knows. Stockholm syndrome is a real thing, you guess. For once, Hongjoong doesn't sense your gaze, staying completely unaware until your eyes shift away.
Immediately, perhaps unsurprisingly, at this point, you make eye contact with Mingi. You hold it this time, tilting your head in question as if asking him if he needs something. He’s certainly acting like it, with all this staring, but he looks away from you, resuming his conversation with a Follower you haven't met before. Like everyone else, he still sports a drink in his hand, dutifully sipping it every lull.
“Princess, can I ask you a question?” Seonghwa speaks across from you, calling your attention back to him. You incline your head in the affirmative, and he asks, “Why did it take you so long to come after him?”
The question takes you off guard, probably for the fact that you wonder it yourself. You take another drink, looking down at the wood grain on the table.
“Too personal? I figured.” Seonghwa takes your silence as an unwillingness to respond.
“No,” you're quick to deny him, “it's not that. I just don't know the answer.”
As horrible as it sounds, the real answer to the question is simply… you were busy. Life happened. You didn’t have any reason to suspect that he disappeared due to malicious circumstances. Finishing university was your top priority— plenty of your friendships fell to the wayside as you wrapped up your degree. And, by the time you graduated, it didn’t seem pertinent. You always figured that, if you reached out, he would answer. Hell, his mom told you where he was, if she knew about this place, at least to some extent, you couldn’t blame yourself for not knowing what it would end up being.
If you had known the truth, you think, you would’ve come sooner. Of course you would have. There is no universe where you let Mingi go through this terror alone… though that’s essentially what’s happened since your argument and the rift in your relationship.
Whatever the case, it seems silly to worry about now. You're here. There were a few months where Mingi was here alone, and the idea of those few months horrifies you. Knowing that Mingi went through a Choosing ceremony without any kind of internal support system makes you feel sick… but, you have to admit, he did pretty alright. Sure, he's traumatized and changed and brainwashed, but at least he has friends and a purpose and, well, he seems happy… ish. There's nothing you could've done if you had been here earlier, so it's no use dreading on it. You still would've been kept apart, and there still would've been the same circumstances.
You take a look at your watch, sighing as it informs you that the time is 11:52 p.m., not nearly as late as you were hoping that it would be.
Seonghwa huffs at your non-answer, tucking his hair away from his face to stare at you harder. “Sometimes I feel like I can hear your thoughts just from watching your expression change. Mingi wasn’t better off before you got here, if that is what you were thinking.”
It wasn’t, but, like, that’s kind of close.
You shake your head, sliding your drink across the table between your hands. “It’s not that I think he was better off… Just that he did alright for himself in the meantime.”
His face twists, though you’re not sure what emotion he’s trying to convey. “Do you even remember what happened when you tried to leave?”
Your eyes meet his.
“He had you back for, what, two days, and then completely broke down.” Seonghwa glances back over at Mingi. “I don’t think he’s been the same since you did that.”
“You can’t guilt trip me into forgetting my need for self-preservation,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray any sense of, well, guilt.
He rolls his eyes, looking back at you. “In case you haven’t noticed, Princess, you are very much still alive.” He mutters something else under his breath as he picks up his drink, taking quite a few consecutive swallows.
You mirror his actions. Hopefully, you can keep it that way.
.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.
In a stroke of luck, Seonghwa let you keep drinking until you found yourself teetering between tipsy and drunk, again. He kept drinking, but he didn’t really keep entertaining you, instead wandering off to do his own socializing. You do try to keep yourself under control, though considering that it’s almost time.
You take a look at your watch, surprised to see that it’s already 2:15. Blinking through the haze of your tipsiness, it sure seems like 2:15 is an okay time to get a move on, right? Like, surely no one will notice if you slip out now instead of in, like, twenty minutes or whenever you and San had agreed he would grab you.
Plus, if anyone did notice, you could just say that you needed some air. It wouldn’t be hard to believe, looking at the state of you. You would quite enjoy a nice breath of fresh air. You could always come back inside if it felt like it was too early, or if you got a bad feeling. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to sneak off for just a moment.
In a brief look around the room, you don’t find anyone paying any particular attention to yourself. In fact, you can see Hongjoong and Seonghwa engrossed in conversation, about as far away as could be. Seonghwa’s hand rests on Hongjoong’s shoulder, a demure smile on his face as he listens to Hongjoong speak. Most of the other Followers in the room all seem significantly more drunk than yourself, with hardly a person meeting your eyes for any longer than a second.
No one will notice, you’re positive.
As you begin your attempt to shuffle your way through the crowd toward the hall, a hand grasps your elbow, stopping you in place, for the second time that night.
Despite the looks that he had been giving you all night, you’re still a bit surprised to see Mingi looking down at you when you spin around to see who the hand belongs to. Your plans to go get a breath of fresh air fall out the window at the sight of him. Why would you need fresh air when Mingi is standing in front of you? He has just about the same effect on you.
At first, he doesn’t seem to have anything to say, but, if you know anything about Mingi, it’s that he yaps when he’s drunk. And he clearly is, judging from the rosy tinge of his face and the awkward smile he wears as he looks at you, a smile that sends you straight back to college. It’s as if he’s completely forgotten everything that’s happened in the past couple months, forgotten the arguments and the anger and the time that has passed.
“Hey,” he greets you, having to raise his voice over the din of the party.
“Hey,” you greet him in turn, politely waiting for him to continue.
“Can I—” he stops, opting to lean his head closer to yours so that he can talk into your ear. His hand stays on your elbow, locking you in place (not that you would’ve moved away from him, anyways, being tipsy and all). “Can we talk in private?” He asks, his voice deep in a way that you had almost forgotten.
Nodding, you allow him to retract himself and lead you away, toward the hall that you had originally been aiming for. When the door shuts behind the two of you, the party sounds fade; the two of you isolated from the rest of the world.
Well, the two of you and a few other Followers that linger in the hall, but close enough. Mingi doesn’t seem bothered by their presence, and you really aren’t either. You’re sure that you haven’t had a truly private conversation with Mingi since before he went missing, given that he apparently seeks Hongjoong’s advice for everything. Anyways, the presence of a few stragglers doesn’t worry you.
Mingi drops your arm, awkwardly smoothing his dress shirt. “You look nice. Pretty.”
“Thanks,” you smile, leaning your back against the wall— partly in an effort to keep your balance. “What did you wanna talk about?”
He shrugs, observing the hallway like he had never seen it before. “Just wanted to talk. We haven’t talked in a looooooonnngggggggggg time.”
Part of you wants to ask him who’s fault that is, but that would be cruel, so you don’t. “It has been a while now.” You agree instead, glancing at your watch. 2:22… which is basically 2:25, which is basically 2:30… already. Nerves wash over you again as you clench your hands in front of you.
“If I’m being honest— and I always want to be honest with you, you know— Hongjoong said that I should talk to you because he thought it would be good for you to hear my thoughts about the situation and also because he said that he thought that you seemed bummed out that we haven’t been talking and that made me sad so I’m taking his advice and talking to you.” Mingi says after taking one deep breath, not stopping for a moment. “Also Yunho said that you still seemed kind of mad and I can’t take the thought of you being mad at me anymore so basically what I wanted to say was that I’m sorry.”
Blinking, a pout forms on your face at his explanation. He had been worrying about you and your relationship. You could’ve reached out to him at any point in the last month, but hadn’t out of fear that he was still upset with you. And here he was, apologizing.
“Mingi,” you wring your hands harder together, “it really isn’t important anymore. I stopped being angry a long time ago.”
He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “It is important, (Y/n), I don’t want this to go unsaid. I’m sorry for confronting you and acting like a douchebag, I’m sorry for scaring you, I’m sorry for questioning you about San, which was absolutely none of my business, I’m sorry for yelling and fighting him and ignoring you for weeks and sending San dirty looks whenever I saw him.” He pauses. “You probably didn’t know about that last one, but, still, I’m sorry.”
Your frown only grows deeper with each apology, your eyes starting to sting. You don’t want to cry, not when you’re sure that this night will steal plenty of tears already, but Mingi is making it hard. If you had known that he was beating himself up equally as hard as you had been, you would’ve apologized a long, long time ago. If you had known… isn’t that just the statement of your life?
“When you were attacked at the start of the month, I was terrified.” He swallows. “I wanted to be at your side, but Hongjoong wouldn’t allow it, and I was sure that you would be pissed if you woke up and I was there, so I left. But that solitude left me a lot of time to think, to think about who you are and what you mean to me.
“You might not think of me as your best friend anymore, but I value our friendship more than anything else in my life, (Y/n). More than Hongjoong, more than The Answer, more than all of this; you are what I thank God for everyday. If something happened to you, I don’t think I would survive it.” Mingi swallows again, harder, tearing up himself. “I’m so glad that you’re here. I know you still are on the fence about Hongjoong, but I need you to trust me when I say that he loves us and he lives to make us better people.”
Finally, you allow a few stray tears to spill onto your cheeks. Mingi’s confession is touching, truly, making your stomach do all sorts of gymnastics, but Hongjoong. How does he weasel his way into absolutely everything? Again, you’re struck by the thought that Mingi will be plagued by Hongjoong for the rest of his life. This… grip he has on Mingi won’t disappear overnight.
Thankful for the wall behind you, considering your dizziness, you lift a hand to wipe at your cheeks before responding. “Mingi, no matter what happens or how much we fight or if I’m here or not, you’ll always be my best friend.” You smile weakly, hoping that he doesn’t read too deeply into your words. “Nothing can come between us for long.”
Mingi wipes at his own tears, sniffling. “Can I hug you?”
Before you can fully nod your head yes, Mingi is pulling you away from the wall and into his arms, crushing you to his chest. You’re quick to reciprocate, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, savoring the feeling. You hadn’t been able to hug him in ages, but his arms feel just like you remember them— if not a little bit more muscled. Inhaling deeply, you rub your face against his shirt, probably ruining the crisp-ness that he had been trying to preserve. His tears wet your scalp, but you don’t mind as you only squeeze him tighter.
The moment could not be more perfect; reconciling with Mingi fills your heart with such a certainty that you’re doing the right thing. Knowing that he isn’t upset with you, isn’t harboring any ill-will any longer reassures you that it will all be okay. He knows that you wouldn’t just leave him behind— he’ll know that you’re coming back for him (if he ever even finds out that you’ve left).
That is, of course, ignoring the bit of his speech where he encouraged you to stay and adapt to Hongjoong, but, like, whatever. It’ll be irrelevant in a few hours, now. He’ll be thankful, eventually.
But no moment can be perfect and last forever.
A throat clearing from behind Mingi calls your attention back to the world. The two of you separate, though Mingi puts a hand on your cheek as you pull away, wiping away your tears with a tight smile.
San looks behind Mingi’s shoulder, his face hard as he watches the two of you. You could almost chuckle at his jealousy, but the seriousness of the situation suddenly rises into your awareness once again.
“I'm sorry, Mingi, you'll have to excuse us,” San says, despite the fact that Mingi hasn't acknowledged his presence.
Mingi leans close to press a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he says, quietly enough so that you're the only one who hears.
Nodding, you untangle yourself from his arms, taking a few steps towards San before offering your hand to him.
He takes it, offering no final remarks to Mingi as he pulls you further away from the cafeteria. Further away from Hongjoong and Seonghwa and Mingi and the rest of them. Closer to the forest and your car and freedom.
Your heartbeat picks up in your chest again. Had you lost track of time talking with Mingi? Were you running behind? Why does it seem like San is in such a rush to get you away? It’s almost hard to keep up with his stride, your boots feeling heavier with each step that you take.
Vaguely, you find yourself worrying over if Mingi will get in trouble for being the last one to speak to you. Surely not… How would he know what you were planning? There wouldn’t be a way for him to… unless they suspected that you had confided your plans to him.
Which you hadn’t done, but if they were desperate enough to need a scapegoat… No. Hongjoong wouldn’t go that far. He may never even find out that you had the conversation in the first place. Mingi might mention it, but he probably wouldn’t have the opportunity to in the chaos that is sure to ensue when your absence was realized.
They were bound to figure out what had happened easily enough; they wouldn’t have to interrogate your friends to come to the most obvious conclusion: that you and San had run away in the night, without outside help.
Before you know it, San is opening the front door, ushering you into the night.
As you had suspected, the cool air does feel amazing on your skin. Lacking a coat, you know that you’ll grow colder the longer that you’re outside. It’s almost November, now, the air is almost strikingly cold after the stuffiness of the cafeteria. Even the hallway had hardly felt relieving compared to this.
Taking a few deep breaths, you allow San to continue wordlessly leading you forward. If you weren’t still rather tipsy, maybe you would question his silence. But it doesn’t bother you very much, if you’re being honest. He probably just doesn’t want to risk drawing any unnecessary attention…
He had assured you that there would be absolutely no one outside of the compound at this point in the night, though…
But, still, he has his reasons, you’re sure. Instead of continuing to walk in front of the building, he veers dramatically to the right, walking the distance until you both turn the corner to round to the side and eventually the back.
Though you had never seen the woods at the back of the compound directly, you had known it was there. The ancient, old-growth trees loomed from behind the building, their leaves able to be seen from a far distance, even from the road. To actually be in front of them was a new sensation, a new emotion. The sight of their trunks startled you into realization.
This is real. You’re doing this. You’re running. You’re getting out of here.
San stops at the edge of the trees, finally turning to address you in a low voice, “You still want to do this?”
Nodding, you squeeze his hand in yours, bringing your free hand to grip your joined hands as well.
He looks at the dirt, kicking a loose pebble at his feet. “Don’t look too hard at anything you might see in these trees, (Y/n).”
However foreboding that is, you agree with his request, “I won’t take my eyes off of you.”
San allows himself a small smile, squeezing your hands back.
Whatever it is that San doesn’t want you seeing, you don’t think you ever had any hope of being able to see in the trees, anyways. It’s pitch black outside, the moon doing little to help you as you walk deeper and deeper.
You’re almost kind of amazed that he’s able to lead you so confidently. He must not have consumed anywhere near the same quantity of alcohol as everyone else. Which actually makes quite a bit of sense, considering you hadn’t seen him very much at all following dinner. What had he been up to? Was Hongjoong not suspicious of his absence? He must’ve made something up… explained it away…
More than a few times, you stumble over a tree root or loose brush, twigs snapping underfoot with each step that you take. San holds you steady, slowing his pace when you need it.
After what feels like forever, but is probably more like a couple minutes, you reach a clearing. At first, you think that you spot your car right away… but then you realize that you can’t be sure. In the clearing, there’s no fewer than twenty vehicles, of all makes and models and sizes. Some look like they haven’t run in years, a thick, dusty coat over their windshields that you can even see in the dark.
San doesn’t pause to let you take in the clearing for very long, however. He quickly pulls you along with him, between a row of cars, before you’re able to find your own. It looks just as you remember it, albeit a bit dirty. Your heart leaps as you realize what this means.
You’re at your car. Your car. It’s right here, right in front of you. You’re going to fucking get out of here. Holy shit.
San lets go of your hand, fishing into his pocket before pulling out the keys and handing them to you. “We don’t lock the cars, but…”
Clutching the keys in your hands, you can’t help but smile. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
He awkwardly mirrors your smile, glancing behind you before pointing it out. You turn to look, not all that surprised to see that the clearing opens to a dirt road, leading back off into the trees. “We’ll go that way. It meets up with the main road after a couple miles.”
Nodding, you turn back to your car, almost giddy as you approach the passenger’s side door. Gently, you pull on the handle, hoping the door doesn’t creak too loud as you do so. Thankfully, it’s no louder than normal, and you eagerly sit yourself down in the seat. San stands in the door, his hands resting on either side of the opening. “Ready, then?” He chuckles as you settle yourself into the seat, adjusting the recline to lay back.
“Let’s go.”
He gives you a thumbs up, pushing himself off of the car before patting at his pockets.
His smile falls, his face paling.
Your heart drops into your stomach, “What is it?” You ask, sitting back up. “Is something wrong?”
San blinks, twisting to look back the way that you came. “I have to go back.”
“What?” You almost shout, “Are you crazy? You can’t go back!”
He shakes his head, leaning down toward you. He grips both of your shoulders tight in his hands, looking in your eyes, “It’ll be fine. I will be right back, I promise.”
“San, no,” you gape at him, “what could possibly be so important?”
San closes his eyes, shaking his head at your question. “It’s hard to explain, I— Just, I,” his eyes open as he squeezes you one last time before dropping your shoulders. “I’ll be back, I swear.”
“Let me come with you,” you plead, attempting to grab one of his hands as he pulls away. “Don’t leave me here, alone, please, San.”
Shushing you, he shakes his head again. “You’ll slow me down. I swear, (Y/n), it will be fine. I’ll see you in a minute.”
He takes a step back, shutting the door before you can come up with a response. You’re too dumbfounded to even attempt to open the door again, too confused to try and follow. What could possibly be so important to him? What if someone finds you here? How are you going to explain that, huh?
But the possibility of that is so remote. No one knows that you’re out here, how could they? Even if someone notices your absence at the party, they’ll just assume that you’ve retired to your room, right? And even if they feel inclined to check, that’ll take a few minutes, in which time San should return to you and get a move on.
Still, you find it very hard to swallow your panic.
What if this is it? What if you die because San had to go back for something that he wouldn’t even tell you about? Your breathing grows shallow with each new terrible thought that invades your mind. You can see it now, Hongjoong walking into the clearing, rage in his eyes, knife in his hands. Making you grovel and beg and plead with him only to end it right then and there, anyways. San would come back and find your still-warm body, soon to join you in death.
You try to blink away the images that flit across your mind, realizing that your eyes burn as if you’d been crying. Your hand flies to your cheek, unsurprised to find it wet. Taking a deep breath, you do anything you can think of to distract yourself.
The air in your car is so stale, your months old air-freshener doing little to help the dry, bitter smell. You fumble with the glove box, pulling it open while praying that there is anything in it that can distract you from the horror of the moment.
Papers spill out as you indiscriminately pull everything out, ushering it onto your lap. You throw aside the car manuals and your outdated insurance, searching for just one thing, anything that could remind you of what you were enduring these terrors for.
A brochure for The Bean slides out, your own face smiling from behind the coffee bar. Adam can be seen in the background. It almost makes you sick, that horrible reminder of the life that you had been forced to give up. You keep sliding the papers around, cutting your finger in your desperation.
Sucking your paper cut into your mouth, you realize that you're not going to find anything in the glove box. You make a half hearted attempt to shove everything back inside before deciding that it's not worth it.
Tears still pouring down your face, you reach for the driver's side sun visor, flicking it down to reveal the photos you kept in the sunglass clip.
On top is a picture of Jungeun and yourself, embracing with your faces pressed together. You quickly slide it back, knowing for certain that you have a picture of Mingi in the stack.
Seeing the picture will wake you up, you're certain. It will give you the courage to keep going.
Finally, a polaroid emerges. It's the first picture you had clipped to the visor, a testament to how much time had passed before you started looking for Mingi. How had you waited so long? You pry the polaroid free, it having stuck to the metal after so long.
Though your hands shake, you don't really need to see the photo in detail to appreciate it. Mingi stands in the center, a peace sign next to his eyes. He's not smiling, rather giving you a sour look. He wasn't pleased to be the first test subject of his gift to you. The second photo was of yourself, taken by him, you remember. The third was a selfie of the both of you.
You don't have either of the other photos, but you have this one. Something compels you to protect the picture, to keep it on you, so you slide it into your waistline and pray that your pants don't distort it too much.
A knock on the window almost kills you on the spot, with the way your heart leaps into your throat.
The shock of who you see through the window makes you gag.
No sooner after seeing his face does he open the door, falling onto his knees next to the car to be eye level with you.
Seonghwa is drunk, much more drunk than he had been when you were with him earlier, you realize this very quickly with the way his voice wavers as he asks, “What are you doing?”
You have no response. You open and close your mouth a few times, but only choked sounds of fear come out.
He grabs your hands, holding them in your lap. “Why are you crying? Are you leaving?”
He sounds so sad that your heart nearly shatters. Your heart should shatter, now, knowing that escape is impossible. But you can only focus on Seonghwa, on his knees, in front of you.
His bangs brush his eyelids. “You're leaving?” He asks again, “without me?”
Seonghwa hiccups, frowning. The question is so absurd you can't pay any mind to it. Why would you bring Seonghwa with you? His forehead comes to rest on your thigh.
“Seonghwa, go back to the party,” you manage to get out, clearing your throat after.
“I can't,” he pouts, “Hongjoong is mad at me. I can't tell why.”
You think Hongjoong always seems a little mad at Seonghwa, but you're not going to say that to him now.
“Please, Seonghwa, go.”
He shifts his face and blinks up at you, his eyes reflecting the moonlight so prettily it almost hurts. “Come with me, then.”
Seonghwa gets to his feet, but he doesn't release your hands. They dangle between the two of you, the height different causing yours to float up. “We can fix this. Just come with me,” he says.
You're shaking your head before you realize it. “I can't go back. I can't do this anymore.”
Seonghwa bites his lip, looking around. “This isn't going to end well; please,” he looks back at you, “just come back with me. I won't say anything, Hongjoong will never know, we'll both be fine. We'll be fine. Nothing has to change.”
“I can't go back.” Your heart beats wildly in your chest, you can feel its thrum. When San returns, what will he do about Seonghwa? How will he possibly get past him? Seonghwa won't let you leave, but you have to. To what length would San go to get you free?
You don't want Seonghwa hurt. You realize now, staring up at him, that you care about him. More than you would've ever thought you would. Who is Seonghwa if not the ultimate victim? Is he not just a reflection of yourself?
“Get in the car, Seonghwa.”
He frowns again, pouting his lower lip. “I can't leave Hongjoong.”
“Yes, you can. Get in the car.”
You don't give a second thought to your proposition, nodding your head toward the back seat.
“I won't leave Hongjoong.” Seonghwa clarifies, dropping your hands. They smack down onto your thighs, stinging.
You'd question him, start yelling at him if you could. But you can hardly form a coherent thought and every word feels like risking the contents of your stomach coming up. Instead, you frown, looking down at your lap rather than at his confused face.
“You can't leave Hongjoong, either,” he says. “Even if you run, he'll find you, always. You'd come back on your own, you won't know how to live without him anymore.” He tells you this eerily flat. “Just come back with me, he doesn't have to know about this.”
Seonghwa is speaking nonsense. Even your flurried mind understands this.
“Please.” He begs. “(Y/n), please.”
You shake your head.
He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as singular tears run down his cheeks. “I'm sorry. I tried to help you, I did.”
Seonghwa turns away from the car as the sinking feeling in your stomach solidifies into a rock of dread.
Of course, you knew what it meant to see Seonghwa out here. There was never any chance, not after he had found you. If he knew where you were, Hongjoong did, too. Surely, he wouldn’t risk you getting away. He would drag the moment on, though. Making Seonghwa come here, making him plead with you, what sort of torture was that? What was the point? Isn’t he just going to kill you, now?
Why is it that, when Hongjoong enters the clearing, you aren’t scared? You hardly feel anything. You knew this was coming. You knew that this would happen, didn’t you? There wasn’t any other possible ending to this night. You wanted to believe that it was possible, that you could escape, but it was futile. It was never a possibility. Even with San’s help. You knew it, deep down.
Like Seongwha said, there is no getting away from Hongjoong. You were foolish to think that you could, and you know it, now.
Instead of watching Hongjoong approach, you watch Seonghwa slink away. He doesn’t go far, stopping to rest his head against the roof of a car a few down from your own. You can imagine how good the cool metal must feel.
You snivel, wiping at your eyes as Hongjoong stops in front of you, standing where San had stood, where Seonghwa kneeled. He’s silent. You don’t look up at him, instead focusing on his hands as they hang at his sides. They’re empty, though clenched into tight fists.
“You have ignored every. Single. Opportunity. I have given you.” He emphasizes each word. “Chances I gave you to make the right decision.”
It’s not even worth your energy to respond, is it? Obviously, you should’ve known that the various conversations you had over the night were warnings. How else would everyone manage to bring up something that would make you want to stay? And Seonghwa…
How humiliating.
“I’m disappointed in you.” Hongjoong says, and it’s so much worse than if he had been screaming and violent. “I thought you were starting to fit in.”
You glance at Seonghwa, who still has his back turned to you. He seems to be shaking, but you find it hard to believe that, even in this scenario, he would cry for you. This has to be part of it, right? Part of making you feel guilty?
Looking at him is a mistake, though. Hongjoong harshly grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Look at me when I'm speaking to you.”
You still have no idea what to say to him. It all seems so stupid, in retrospect.
It's only as you look up at Hongjoong that you start to wonder where San is. If you asked, you'd surely get your ass handed to you. But the terrible feeling in your stomach only gets worse. What if he comes back to this scene? How will he react? Poor San, he was so desperate for you. How will he feel, with the plan destroyed? Does Hongjoong know the depth of his involvement?
So, you break your silence. It couldn’t get much worse, could it? “Where is San?” You ask.
Hongjoong lets go of your face, but only to bury a hand in your hair, yanking you into standing. Instinctively you bring your hands to his, crying out in pain. He only smirks, releasing his grasp on you.
You collapse onto your knees, catching yourself with your hands at his feet. Your nice pants, they're dirty, now, you catch yourself thinking. Like that's the biggest issue right now.
“Where is San?” He repeats your question, spitting the words out like they leave a vile taste in his mouth.
Reduced to a heap at his feet, you can't bring yourself to look up at him. This night has turned up just as your last failure had. You're not all that surprised when Hongjoong's boot comes down on your hand, though not hard enough to hurt. “Look at me.”
You do. From even further beneath him, he looks more Biblical than ever.
“Who do you think told me where you were?”
Ah.
Of course.
That makes sense.
Your face contorts, though with what emotion, you’re not sure.
You want to think that there might be an explanation, one that doesn’t involve San betraying you to a homicidal maniac, but you know that there isn’t. Instantly, you know.
He never meant to help you. He never cared about you. He had laid a pretty trap for you, at Hongjoong’s request, and had sprung it just as planned.
And he couldn’t even be here to see the fruits of his labor. Pathetic. Your mind swims with everything you had told him, everything you confessed to him, the times you had been warned about him. You fought with Mingi over him, you defended him to Mingi.
“Yes,” Hongjoong smiles down at you. “All of this has been planned since the day I made you live with him.”
You nod up at him, realizing that he must want something else from you.
“You must understand, (Y/n), that I control everything. You can’t trust in anything besides this fact.” Hongjoong kneels to meet your eye line, inadvertently crushing your hand under his foot as his weight shifts.
Gritting your teeth, you suck in any sound of pain that threatens to escape. The last thing you plan on doing tonight is letting Hongjoong realize the depths of your pain.
He tilts his head in question. “Do you have anything you want to say to me?”
Even in your haze of emotions, you can hardly resist spitting a few choice curses at him. “Fuck you.”
He grimaces, though he’s clearly not actually affected. “Not what I was thinking, Princess, but I’ll give you a pass.”
His hands are suddenly gripping into your shirt at the shoulders, yanking you onto your feet. He hardly allows you to catch yourself before he begins dragging you across the clearing, away from your car, into the trees, away from your last shred of dignity.
There isn’t a single thing on your mind as he pulls you through the trees and eventually back around to the front of the compound. He’s groveling under his breath, probably cursing you out in any and every way that he knows how. And you deserve it. You deserve every stumble of your feet, every tear burning your cheeks, every horrible thing that Hongjoong can fling at you.
You failed. Not only yourself, but everyone stuck here in this cult. You’ve utterly failed. No one is going to be rescued, no one is going to be saved. You cling onto Hongjoong’s blazer as he guides you to the barns, having no idea what could be waiting for you there.
Maybe this is it, huh? Maybe he has finally realized that you’re more trouble than you’re worth. For a second there, it had looked like he was going to keep you alive, but maybe not. That was probably just wishful thinking. He’s probably delivering you to Jongho, too disgusted to even deal with you himself.
Hongjoong releases you to throw open the barn doors. You have to catch yourself on the siding to remain standing, but Hongjoong quickly returns his grip on you, hauling you further inside the barn.
It’s the animal barn. He walks you into the center aisle, dropping you unceremoniously. You fall into a heap at his feet. Again.
You can hardly hear Hongjoong over the general animal sounds, but especially over the oinking of the pigs. “I’m going to leave you here,” he starts, glaring down at you. “When I come back, you’re going to still be in this building.”
Sniffling, you nod in agreement.
He scoffs. “You’re lucky, (Y/n), very lucky. If you had made it even an inch down that road, what do you think would’ve happened to you? To Mingi? Haseul?”
There isn’t anything for you to say. The pigs fill the silence.
“Selfish. Utterly, disgustingly, selfish.” Hongjoong spits. “Stay here— before you try and lure anyone else to their certain deaths.”
With that, he turns on his heel and exits the barn, shutting the door behind him. The overhead lights remained on, but you barely even found yourself capable of caring. The dark wouldn’t make any difference. You failed.
And Hongjoong was right. You are selfish. Even though you knew the truth about San’s intentions now, you hadn’t known before. You had thought he was risking his life to help you, and you had been fine with it. What was wrong with you? Why is this just occurring to you now? Had you really been so desperate as to involve another person? What’s the matter with you? Have you no shame? No consideration? Were you such a narcissist that you would put your freedom above someone’s life?
Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you wipe your cheeks with your hands. The sensation is calming, allowing you to take a few deep breaths as you collect your bearings. As hard as it is, you should try to keep your head on straight… there’s still no telling how the night will end, and something tells you that it’s far from over.
One thing you know for certain, though, is that you cannot do this again. You can’t. No matter what. Something else will have to give. There is no more escape. There is no more saving yourself. How the fuck could you, after this?
Standing, you brush your hands off on your pants. Hongjoong hadn’t said anything about not moving from the spot. Might as well look at the animals. Animals can be calming, right? Therapeutic? Maybe?
Wishful thinking.
Your tears keep flowing, but you find your breathing to be coming back to your control. You stumble with your first step, but quickly regain your balance, tottering over to the nearest animal pen— which happens to be the pigs.
This is where you had confronted Jongho about Haneul. How long ago was that, now? That horrible confrontation lingers as you grip the metal fencing keeping the pigs in place. The bar is cooling, demanding your attention. You realize now that the air itself, though warmed by the animals' presence, is getting rather chilly, as well.
Tugging your sleeves lower over your hands, you peer down at the animals. Some of them are sleeping, but most of them aren’t. Each sow is separated from the next, in neat, orderly rows. Last time you had seen them, there weren’t individual pens. Jongho had been feeding them in one huge, disorderly mess. It had been rather disgusting.
You had also fought with Mingi, that day. About so many things that just seem stupid, now. What was there to even be mad about? Mingi is just Mingi. You can’t fault him for being a victim.
And the fact that he was just looking out for you, and, in fact, turned out to be absolutely correct.
As you turn to walk to a different pen, the feeling of the polaroid at your waist recaptures your attention. Stopping in place, you fish it out of your waistline, cupping it in your hands.
Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be damaged. You stare down at it once more. It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes since you had put it in your pants, and, yet, here you are. Completely changed.
Mingi’s face frowns up at you, but your eyes catch on something outside of the photo. Your own expression melts into a frown as you lower your hands, shoving the picture back into your pants.
Wiping your tears again, you kneel down to the ground next to the pen.
What had caught your attention was a scrap of white, so starkly bright against the packed dirt floor of the barn.
You reach out to grab it, suddenly overcome with an even worse feeling of dread. Your scalp goes cold, a shiver spreading across your body as you touch the… fabric.
Fabric.
Blinking your tears away as fast as you can manage, you pull, feeling your stomach drop as the piece grows into a cuff. Buttons and all. A white cuff.
There’s nothing that you can do to stop yourself from thinking the thoughts that come— attacking you at nearly instantaneous moments.
It’s Haseul’s. This is from Haseul’s shirt. What did Hongjoong say would happen? About the pigs? The pigs? Haseul? This is Haseul’s shirt? It can’t be. She’s in her room. She’s been in her room this whole time. This could belong to anyone. This could’ve been cut off of anyone’s shirt. It doesn’t have to be hers. It could be anyone’s. Why would it be hers? It isn’t possible. San said she was fine. He failed, but she was fine. Hongjoong said she was fine. Mingi said— what did he say? Did he say something? Anything? It doesn’t matter. San said—
“You shouldn’t be in here,” a familiar voice calls from behind you.
You fall onto your butt, forgoing your pants. They were ruined, anyway. Clutching the cuff in your hand, you don’t even reply to Jongho’s warning. Your breathing is out of control, again. Each breath you take is tighter, harder, less satisfying, more panic inducing. The fabric in your hand burns with the tightness of your grip.
Jongho grabs your shoulder. “Can you even hear me?”
A fully-fledged sob leaves you as you look up at him.
His eyebrows furrow in some emotion— probably disgust— as he frowns at you. “Get out of here.”
Shaking your head, you try to say even a single word about Hongjoong telling you to stay here, but you can’t get anything out. If anything, you cry harder, shaking your head back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, shutting your eyes as tightly as you can.
This cannot be real. This can’t be happening. It can’t be Haseul’s shirt. Even if it is, it doesn’t mean that she’s—
No, you won’t even think it. You just keep shaking your head. It can’t be. It cannot be.
Jongho’s hand leaves your shoulder.
“This is your punishment, (Y/n).” Hongjoong’s voice booms from behind you. It’s so shocking that you open your eyes, spinning around in the dirt to face him. He’s not alone. Seonghwa and San are with him, both of them looking incredibly uncomfortable.
Seeing San doesn’t relieve you at all. Seonghwa’s face is puffy, his clothing disheveled and dirty. Neither of them look at you, instead looking at the ground in front of them. Jongho remains at your side, seemingly caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
You don’t know what Hongjoong means, though. Or, rather, your mind completely refuses to see what is in front of it until it is irrefutable. There is still hope, now. There is hope. The cuff doesn’t mean anything until Hongjoong says that it does. There is nothing in you that can accept this until…
“Haseul is dead.” Hongjoong says. “And San killed her.”
The wind is completely knocked out of your lungs as you fall onto your hands, heaving.
Though you can’t see San, you can hear him. His protests are immediate, “What? Hongjoong, why would you say that? I didn’t do that. I didn’t even touch her. I swear, (Y/n), why would I lie—”
“Not to mention that he orchestrated your entire escape attempt at my request,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through San’s pleas to be heard.
The reminder calls you back into your body. Hongjoong had to say it in front of San, you realize, he had to make sure San knew that you knew of his betrayal. You look up at the three men in front of you as you gasp for air. The cuff lays in the dirt before you, momentarily forgotten.
San is gaping at Hongjoong, his hands outstretched as if he was in the middle of trying to reach for you. “Are you fucking crazy?” San barely squeezes out in his apparent anger.
“I am, in fact.” Hongjoong replies, though he doesn’t bother to address San. He smiles down at you instead, watching your facial expression change from one of despair to one of hatred.
Your eye twitches as you stare at San, who starts to plead for you to hear him out once more.
“I swear, (Y/n), it wasn’t like that! You heard him! He’s crazy! He only has something to gain if you don’t trust me, right? Why would I ever do that? I love you, you kno—”
San had been crouching down to your level as he made this speech, which was probably a horrible idea. Using your hands as your leverage, you launch yourself at him, toppling him over into the dirt.
Pinning him to the ground with your weight, you stare down at his (very surprised) face.
It takes you all of five seconds to realize what you couldn’t in the past month.
Hongjoong is right. Again.
Your tears drip down onto his own face. San tries to speak, but evidently can’t think of anything to say to you.
Hongjoong laughs at your side.
You pull your hand back, bringing it back down and slapping San as hard as you can muster across his face. The smack rings through the barn, your hand stinging all the way up your forearm.
San tries to clutch his cheek, but your knees keep his arms at his sides, and he instead looks up at you, stunned.
“Say something.” You demand, finding your voice.
He opens and closes his mouth, grasping for anything to say. “He’s lying to you— I swear it, I had nothing to do with Haseul, and I would never set you up, I would never, you can’t trust him, can’t trust anything that he says, (Y/n), really—”
You hit him again. This time, he exclaims in pain as you feel your hand go numb. Seonghwa flinches in your peripheral vision and Hongjoong laughs once more.
“Fuck you.” You blink, more tears falling. “Fuck you.” You lean back, freeing his arms, which immediately come up to rest on your waist. “Hit me.”
San’s face contorts, confused, “why would I hit you?”
Absurdly, you smile. You smile wide. “Hit me. Do it.” You hit him in the chest, though lighter than you had his face. “What? Are you a coward? You can kill my best friend, but you can’t hit me?” Your voice raises, reaching a shrilling quality. “Come on! Hit me! Do anything!”
San’s hands remain holding your waist, not moving.
“Hit me so that I don’t fucking kill you! Hit me to show you at least think your miserable life is worth living! Hit me! Hit me! Hit me! Hi—”
“That’s really enough, (Y/n),” Seonghwa’s voice cuts in as he grabs your arm, keeping you from landing another blow to San’s chest. “You’re being childish.”
You scoff, but it devolves into a laugh. “Childish? I’m being CHILDISH?” You wrench your hand out of Seonghwa’s grip. “Tell me, Seonghwa, please, how is someone supposed to react in this situation? What is the normal reaction? Enlighten me, please!”
When Seonghwa doesn’t respond, you stand, turning your full attention to him. San’s hands easily slide off of you, though you remain hovering over him. He finally starts cradling his red cheeks.
Seonghwa looms over you, his back to Hongjoong as he stares over his shoulder at you. You feel guilty for lashing out at Seonghwa, somehow, but it doesn’t stop you from fanning the flames. There’s nothing that could stop you, not in this moment, from bringing anyone else to your level.
You make eye contact with Hongjoong, who has his arms crossed nonchalantly, an enormous smile on his face. You imagine that this night is just going peachy for him. Just how he wanted it to. Maybe, just maybe, you can ruin his fun.
At Seonghwa’s expense. You hardly feel bad about it, though, as your eyes snap back to Seonghwa’s.
“Without turning around, take a guess. Is Hongjoong watching you, his perfect little whore, or me, the spoiled brat who doesn’t behave?”
Seonghwa sneers, a small laugh escaping him. Of course, he plays right into your hands. He exhales one shaky breath before grabbing your shoulders, using the grip to shove you as hard as he can, sending you falling back to the floor. You practically land on top of San, your legs resting over his waist, but you can only laugh.
Seonghwa falls onto his knees in front of you, crawling until he can reach your legs. He grabs you by your calves, pulling you off of San until you’re practically underneath himself. You’re sure that he’s planning on strangling you, there’s a sweet little look in his eyes that tells you everything you need to know.
And you’re excited, you want him to kill you, you realize. Your laughing becomes intermixed with your sobbing as Seonghwa puts his weight on your stomach, the fury in his eyes blazing harder with each sound you make.
Before you can truly get your way, though, San is grabbing Seonghwa by the back of his shirt, using all of his strength to pull him off of you. You hear the fabric rip as Seonghwa sprawls onto his back in front of you, and San takes the same position that Seonghwa had just had on you.
You can’t find it in yourself to sit up, so you opt to just turn your head until you can see San. Vaguely, you can hear the sound of him hitting Seonghwa as you had just pleaded with him to do to you, and this only makes you cry harder.
You turn your head in the opposite direction, and you’re greeted with the image of Hongjoong, still sitting contentedly. He glances down at you, but he doesn’t betray anything.
“Can’t you just kill me?” You whisper to him, hoping the others can’t hear it, “won’t you please just kill me?”
Hongjoong frowns, then, slowly rising to his feet to come to your side. He holds his hand out, waiting for you to take it.
You don’t at first, opting to continue looking pathetically up at him. From this angle, with the blurriness of your tears and the extreme perspective, Hongjoong really does look… ethereal. Angelic. Godly. Whatever the word is. You take his hand, allowing him to heave you into a sitting position just in time to see San land the punch that you’re sure breaks Seonghwa’s nose.
It’s only in this moment that you realize San is screaming at Seonghwa, mostly incomprehensible phrases of anger. Seonghwa is trying to fight back, his hands clenching onto San’s shirt, slapping at his shoulders and face, thrashing underneath him, but San is too pissed to let any of it stop him.
Hongjoong squats at your side, resting one of his knees on the floor. He doesn’t drop your hand, instead using it to pull you closer to him. He puts his face next to yours, making sure you’re watching the scene unfolding in front of you.
“Doesn't this make you feel good? Seeing what San would do for you? Even after it’s all over?” He whispers so close that his breath tickles your ear. “It could always be like this. Everyone could love you like this.”
Love? This is love? Your ploy to upset Hongjoong by including Seonghwa failed. If there isn’t love lost between the two of them, then what on earth about this is love?
Still, your heart skips a beat.
You had completely forgotten (or, maybe, ignored) Jongho’s presence until Hongjoong turns to give him some sort of look that must tell him to stop whatever is going on. In the next moment, Jongho is resting a hand on San’s shoulder, barely having to pull at him to get him to cease his movements.
Seonghwa turns his face toward you and Hongjoong, blood pouring from his nose and split lips.
A sob escapes him, this time, before he turns to face the other direction.
You really hadn’t meant for Seonghwa to get hurt from this. You just wanted to goad someone into giving you what you wanted, and he was easiest. You avert your eyes from him, wanting to give him the privacy he clearly desires.
Hongjoong doesn’t care. He drops your hand, standing to go to Seonghwa.
You look at San and Jongho. San is also sobbing, his knuckles torn to shreds in his lap.
You don’t feel bad for him. You don’t feel anything for him. You’re sure the upset will come in the next few days. The bomb will drop, the emotions will explode, but now, in this moment, you couldn’t care less if he lived or died.
Frankly, you couldn’t even care less about your own life. Haseul is dead. She’s dead. And she’s never coming back. You’ll never see her smile again, never text her that you’re bored at work, never hear her complain about her parents arguing again. Her parents. Her own parents. They’ll never see her again, and it’s your fault. Entirely.
You look back at Seonghwa and Hongjoong just in time to see Seonghwa slap Hongjoong’s hand away from him, groaning as he turns his body to fully face away from his God.
That can’t be a good sign.
Hongjoong sighs, crossing his arms over his chest before turning on his heel to come back to you.
Great. Just what you wanted.
“Is she really dead?” You can’t help the question, squeezing your eyes shut as they fill with more tears.
Hongjoong sits beside you, taking both of your hands in his this time. “She is.”
“For how long?” You don’t open your eyes.
He takes a few seconds to answer, as if contemplating whether you should hear the truth or not. “She died the day she arrived.”
You’re not sure if this is the best or the worst news that he could’ve given you. You’d believed lies for weeks, but at least she hadn’t been suffering the entire time, like you pictured.
“Was it really San?” You still had a hard time believing it. Could San kill? Had you really shared a bed with him for over a month, not knowing that he had killed Haseul himself, believing that he hadn’t?
“No,” He admits, letting go of one of your hands, using his newly freed hand to rest on your cheek. You open your eyes, feeling your lips quivering with… every emotion on this goddamn planet. Anger. Fear. Sadness. Whatever. “Jongho killed her, and humanely at that. But San helped with the mess. I didn’t want it to be like this, (Y/n), I warned you.”
And what could you say. He warned you. Very plainly. And you had disobeyed him. And look at what it cost.
Hongjoong moves his hand away from your face, using it to wrap around you and pull you back into a hug.
There's nothing to do anymore. Nothing to say. You cry into his shoulder, finally wrapping your own arms around him in acceptance.
He rocks you, there, on the ground. “It might be hard to understand now, (Y/n), but everything I do, I do for you.”
You nod. “Please don't make me see him again.”
Hongjoong knows who. He strokes your head, smoothing your hair, “Of course, love. Of course.”
Though you know that this is all because of Hongjoong, you still find his words comforting, his embrace grounding. You squeeze him tighter to you, appreciating the feeling of having at least one person on your side. He’s right, he’s so right, you can’t trust anyone else, not when this is how it turns out.
Summary: Yeosang proves you wrong. Will he succeed?
Warning(s): lots of prejudice, Yeosang cries (Wooyoung would absolutely murder the reader if he could), the reader softens up, slight bullying
Genre: Angst with a fluffy ending
Nets: @blossomnet @mirohs-aurora-society
"Professor Kim, can I talk to you about my grade?" Yeosang asked his music theory professor. Hongjoong looked up at him and gave a small smile to the younger boy.
"Of course. But your grade is relatively good so far."
"I'm aware but I feel like I can do better you know. Music theory is hard and I want to excel in this class. I've tried studying the chords on piano and even tried looking for songs that I can listen to so I can identify the chords but so far, I've only been able to pinpoint what scale the song starts on."
Hongjoong listened carefully to Yeosang's explanation and nodded slowly as he thought of something.
"I could get you a tutor to help you get a better grip on the chords. They are an excellent student and is probably the topmost student in all of my music theory classes. They're currently studying for an exam in my level two advanced theory class but I'm sure they can help you out with something as simple as chord recognition."
"Thank you so much, professor!" Yeosang exclaimed gratefully and Hongjoong's heart swelled in adoration upon seeing his smile. As he watched his student gather his things and exit the classroom, he whipped out his phone and texted you.
Joongie: Your prayers have been answered. You get to tutor a music theory student.
You: HELL YEAH, BOIIII! Which level are they at rn?
Joongie: Music Theory I
You: Easy peasy! What's their grade if I may ask? I know this class is hard >-<
Joongie: It's fairly decent but he feels he can do better.
You: Oof. Ik the feeling lol what does he need help with specifically?
Joongie: Chord recognition
You: Ahh! Ok got it. I can start tomorrow.
Joongie: Sounds good to me. Oh and Y/N? Please be nice...
You: Oh don't sweat it, Joongie! I got you
Hongjoong sighed shakily as he sent her a heart as his message.
Yeosang had no idea what was in store for him......
Whatever excitement you felt the next day was flown out the window when you saw him. Your professor could've chosen anyone. But him? You only had three rules.
Never let anyone dictate your life.
Never give up no matter what
Never interact with frat boys or girls from sororities!
As you saw him set up his things, you felt a sense of dread wash over you. You thought of ways you could weasel your way out of this but Hongjoong would know immediately since you never weasel your way out of anything.
It's either you accept or deny. And you accepted.
With a heavy heart, you walked in, annoyance evident on your face. Yeosang was oblivious to it though. As soon as he saw you, his face lit up with excitement.
"Hi! You must be Y/N! I'm Kang -"
"Yeah yeah. Kang Yeosang. Yeah hi nice to meet you. Come on. Let's get this over with. I got an exam to study for."
The smile on Yeosang's face disappeared as you slammed your things on the table and opened up your music theory I textbook.
Throughout the entire study session, you did somewhat help him, but he didn't appreciate the fact that he was treated as if he were the dumbest person on the planet. You spoke purposefully slow, talked to him as if he were a child, and scolded him over useless shit. However, Yeosang remained patient.
After all, he knew of your intense hatred towards frat boys.
After the two hours were up, you didn't even bid him goodbye. You simply told him when the next session was and left immediately.
The rest of the study sessions persisted with the same old thing. You come in, treat him poorly, get angry when he messed up, and then leave as soon as the session was over. There were even times where you didn't even show up, claiming that you were busy. Maybe it was true most of the time, but there were times where it was complete and utter bullshit. Yeosang tried so hard to be patient with you, but even the kindest frat boy had his limits.
In the times that you didn't show up, he was studying on his own. His memorization may have been weak, but he was determined to get you to see beyond the boyish charms and stereotypes you had around him.
Today was another study session. Yeosang stood proud and tall as you walked in, grumpy as usual. You set your things down and looked at him.
"Come on. Let's get this over with." You sighed heavily and Yeosang shook his head.
"Quiz me."
"Um... come again?"
"You heard me. Quiz me!"
You sighed and nodded before taking your mini piano out of your bag and setting it down on top of the table. You turned it on and configured it so it was loud enough for him to hear yet quiet enough so you guys weren't kicked out of the library. You positioned your hands in the right playing position and looked up at him with a bored expression.
"Ok. Let's do it."
Yeosang was determined.
The first chord was played.
"That is a C Major triad."
The second chord was played.
"That's an e minor triad."
The third chord was played."
"That's an A Major traid."
The fourth chord was played.
"That's a first inversion g minor triad."
The fifth chord was played.
"That's a second inversion F Major triad."
Throughout the entire time, Yeosang was getting every single chord right. Deep down, you were thoroughly impressed with his knowledge and the way he recognized the chords immediately. As the final chord was played, Yeosang gave the correct answer. You lifted your hands from the piano and stood up before him.
"I have to say. I'm impressed. You certainly have studied your ass off."
Yeosang felt a sense of relief and accomplishment wash over him. However, that feeling went away when you said something ludicrous.
"Wait never mind. You're a frat boy. You probably cheated."
Yeosang was looking for any sign that you were joking. There wasn't. You just stood there with your arms crossed as you looked him up and down.
"You can admit it. It's fine. I can't necessarily say I'm surprised though since all you care about is partying, sleeping with every girl on campus, and -"
"How could you?"
You grew confused as you saw the raw emotion on Yeosang's face. His eyes were swimming in unshed tears, his fists were clenched, and his body was shaking a bit. You dropped your arms to the side as he scoffed harshly.
"For weeks, I have been studying and quizzing myself, pulling all nighters, and even isolated myself from my friends so I could impress you and change your views on me. It looks like I failed... and I'm sorry for failing you. I'm also sorry for wasting your time."
With that, he gathered his things and ran out of the library while you stood there, confusion being replaced with shock and guilt. You felt your chest tighten upon imagining him crying as he ran back to his dorm.
Why does seeing an angel cry feel like the biggest sin?
The next few weeks have been awkward to say the least. You were in Professor Kim's class, trying so hard to concentrate on his lectures, yet your mind was somewhere else. Ever since that day in the library, you've had occasional nightmares pop up in your head. It was of the same thing: you accuse him of cheating and you stand with an inflated ego while he runs out crying. You thought you were being a hero.
You were actually the villain. And you accepted that fact.
After class ended, you stayed behind so you could talk to Hongjoong. When the room was nearly empty, you approached him slowly.
"Um...professor?"
"Oh? On that professional status I see." Hongjoong joked with you but when he saw the worn out look on your face, he grew concerned. He pointed to the chair in front of him and you sat down.
"Tell me what's wrong."
"I think... I think I fucked up."
"You haven't even taken the exam yet -"
"I made my student cry."
Hongjoong was silent as you looked at him with your own eyes swimming in unshed tears. He gently took your hands in his and prompted you to look at him.
"What did you do?"
Despite the gentle tone in his voice, you could tell he was disappointed in you. He explicitly told you to be nice and you went against that.
"I accused Yeosang of cheating when I quizzed him and he got all the answers right."
Hongjoong dropped your hands and rubbed his face out of agitation.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"It was an accident! I let it slip out -"
"Yeosang is one of the kindest and most intelligent students out there. Your hatred towards frat boys needs to cease."
"Yes I understand that -"
"Do you?"
You flinched when he said that through gritted teeth. You hung your head in shame as he kept talking.
"To have you, my best student, accuse him of cheating... that's low. So fucking low."
"Hongjoong, I know -"
"You need to apologize to him."
"I am aware of that but -"
"But what? Hmm? Don't give me any excuse whatsoever. I know you're studying your ass off for my exam, your parents are out of town, and you don't have any pets or plants to take care of. So tell me. What's stopping you from apologizing to him?"
"I'm afraid!"
You hung your head in shame once more and let all the tears out.
"I'm afraid that he'll just spew so much hatred towards me. Not saying that I don't deserve it, but having someone like him be angry towards me feels like I'm going through hell. I saw his face that day. And I even have nightmares about it! Trust me. You think you're disappointed in me? Well the feeling is mutual in a sense."
Hongjoong listened to you despite feeling anger towards you.
"I already faced my punishment. Yunho stuffed fake spiders in my locker so my arachnophobia was triggered, Mingi towered over me and trashed all my papers for my other classes, San shoved me to the ground which explains my scraped knees, and Wooyoung... oh God."
Hongjoong had to hold you to stop yourself from shaking. His anger was slowly fading as you recounted everything that happened to you and felt his chest tighten when you just took it in stride rather than stand up for yourself.
"He was vile. He cussed me out, pulled my hair, and told me that maybe frat boys can be brainless, but they're not heartless monsters such as myself."
"Oh, Y/N..."
"He's right. He's definitely right. But it still hurts. And you want to know the worst part?"
"What is it?"
You drew in a shaky breath and exhaled before speaking.
"Yeosang was a witness to it all... and he still made sure they didn't do anything else drastic."
You started crying and Hongjoong held you close.
"I tried thanking him and even worked up an apology, but he held a hand up towards me and stared at me dead in the eyes before walking away."
Hongjoong held your face and wiped your tears away.
"What did I tell you? I told you he was the kindest person I've ever met."
"I know, Joongie... I know. I feel awful."
"I think... you should try again. If his friends try to stop you, stand your ground and make sure you keep on insisting until you are able to see Yeosang."
"What if he doesn't want to see me?"
"Trust me. If he was able to get his friends to back off of you, then he'd be willing to listen to your apology. Whether he accepts it or not, that's up to him. But just know that your apology is genuine and that you truly feel remorseful for your words."
You nodded as you listened to him and absorbed his words. Hugging him one last time, you gathered your things and sprinted out the classroom.
"Tell Seonghwa I said hi!"
Hongjoong chuckled lightly at your mention of his husband and looked down at his wedding ring.
You cringed at the way the ATZ frat house was littered with red solo cups, streamers, and random piles of puke. You almost fled the scene when a drunk guy landed on top of you and tried to hit on you yet you persevered. You finally spot the five guys and mentally gave yourself a pep talk before approaching them.
"Oh look! Here comes the witch!"
Wooyoung hissed at you and everyone cackled. Yeosang simply crossed his arms and stared at you. You winced at the insult.
Yeah you deserved that.
You composed yourself and tried so hard not to blow up on Wooyoung. You didn't need anymore bad blood with him or anyone else for that matter. You sighed shakily and stared right back at Yeosang.
"Yeosang, I'm aware that you don't want to talk to me and it's clear that your friends want me to go away as soon as I set foot in this place. However, I will only say this and then leave."
You looked up at the ceiling momentarily to blink away the tears that were about to spill from your eyes. You then looked back down at the boy who looked angelic even under the dimmest of lighting.
"I am so utterly fucking sorry for accusing you of cheating. It was wrong of me to do that. I never should've done that. Instead, I should've been proud of you for recognizing those chords right away. Music theory is a hard class and I admire your ambition to strive in being the best. I heard you passed one of your chapter exams and I just want to say congratulations. In addition, I also want to apologize for being so rude and brash with you from day one up until now. It's my own fault and I have already faced the consequences of my actions. If you're able to forgive me, I would be so happy! However, if you decide to join your friends in making me miserable... well that's fine. I deserve it after all."
You sniffled and looked at his friends momentarily since they were watching the exchange.
"I'll leave now. Um... enjoy your party on this fine Friday night. I'll probably head to the arcade to calm down. Yeah ok bye."
You scurried off before Yeosang had the chance to say anything, afraid he'll be worse than his friends.
You went through every single game in the arcade, ate some takoyaki, and decompressed at the bar. You sipped on your moscow mule and sighed to yourself as you whipped out your phone to scroll through any memes your friends sent you.
"Excuse me? Is this seat taken?"
You whipped your head up to see Yeosang looking down at you with big curious brown eyes. You shook your head and Yeosang had a small grin on his face before sitting down next to you and ordering a glass of water.
"I could only chug so much beer in my life."
You giggled lightly at his response as you sipped on your drink some more.
"By the way, I forgive you."
Your eyes widened and your heart fluttered when he pulled you in for a hug. He was slightly taller than you so you felt his chin rest on your head.
"I was mad and debated on not forgiving you, but the moment that you congratulated me on passing my exam, it all washed away. I told my friends that I forgave you and being the simps they are, they send their apologies to you for doing all of that, especially Wooyoung."
"It's ok. I deserve it."
Yeosang pouted and shook his head before patting your own.
"Mind if I spend the rest of the night with you? I dig this arcade actually."
w / au's: alien!au, two mentions of panic attacks, an ugly ass alien gets handsy, dry humping (well, she's not dry she's naked and wet but he's clothed lol), sexy morning grinding that happens at the beginning of the chapter... idk what you want to call it lol
summary: alien husband wakes up scared of his own erection, you get hated on for being hungry, alien husband protecc attacc and grovel when he fucks up, a cute park moment, break-up, make-up, runaway together and live as royalty!! because yall are the IT couple of Omberus! hope you like it, princessss <333
words: 11,041
READ PART ONE HERE
You wake up the next morning with his rock hard cock pressed right against your bare ass. You aren’t sure at what point during the night your pajamas came off, but your eyes pop awake when you realize what’s happening. His hand is on your hip, holding your body close as he rolls his lower half against you.
As soon as the events of the night before come back to you, you melt into his big alien body, feeling so safe and secure in his embrace. He groans a raspy breath in your ear, his fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts against your ass. You don’t know what’s gotten into him. Maybe getting off in front of him the night before has him worked up and dreaming something naughty, but you can’t complain. Your body begins to heat up from his motions. An ache settles between your legs and you wouldn’t mind getting off again.
It doesn’t help when his arm wraps around your body to slip his palm up your stomach and over your breast. He cups you gently in his sleep, pushing his hips into you from behind and you can’t help the soft whimper that spills out. His touch is so warm and cautious even when he’s dreaming, you don’t dare push him away.
Unfortunately for you, he’s suddenly aware of the situation while beginning to awaken. He jumps up from the bed with a gasp after a second, naked and fully erect. You whimper at the loss of warmth, turning to look at him reaching for his pajama pants to cover himself.
“What’s wrong?” you ask him with a pout. “It was starting to feel good.”
“I, uh, I have to get ready for work.” He starts shuffling toward the door, trying not to flash you with his naked body behind his pajamas. “We’re beginning to train recruits today. Long, busy day.” He’s mumbling half-awake and not making eye contact before he rushes out of the bedroom, leaving you naked and wanting him beneath the sheets.
Clearly he’s too shy for his own good, but you’re in no rush to move things along if he’s not comfortable. If this is your life now, you have nothing but time.
Sighing, you climb out of bed after he’s dressed in his uniform and left for the day. If it’s a long day for him, it’s probably going to be even longer for you. You have nothing to do on this alien spaceship. You don’t even know how to call your best friend back on earth, but it’s something you would like to learn soon. You have so much to tell her already.
After contemplation, you slip out of the bed to see how much of your morning routine you can accomplish with all the alien gadgetry. Brushing your teeth went smooth enough since you have your own toothbrush and toothpaste. Showering, on the other hand, took a minute because you needed to figure out how to turn the hot water on. After much struggle and fifteen minutes of your morning wasted turning this knob and that, you finally step into the shower with the hot water blasting your skin.
Other than that, everything was organized in neat little dispensers inside the shower, with a fresh cloth prepared. You washed up while taking your time to enjoy the hi-tech, alien bathroom. When you finished, hidden vents inside the steamy shower blew soft, warm air to dry you off. How convenient, less laundry! You dressed quickly in sweats and a t-shirt and spent the rest of the morning getting Jellybean situated and attempting to cook breakfast.
Jellybean took exactly an hour of your attention to make up for being teleported to an alien spaceship. Eventually he calmed down enough to play with a few of his toys and then prepare for napping for the rest of the day after you fed him his breakfast. Your own breakfast didn’t go so well, however, looking in the fridge in the kitchen to see ingredients you have no name for. You realize they must be from your alien husband’s home planet. So much for preparing yourself a meal.
Around noon you grow too hungry, but you have no way to contact your husband to feed you this time. So, you do the next best thing and try to remember how to make your way back to the bustling center of the ship with all the food stands. Not like you have money to pay, but maybe they’ll do some sort of credit. You wonder what kind of currency these aliens take, but you don’t think it over too much as you make your way through the sliding door and into the hallway.
You try following the hallway to the right, but that leads you down two more hallways until you’re in a room with a huge, thick glass window. Just outside is a view of earth spinning and numerous shining dots of all the other galaxies behind it. You stop to admire the sight, letting reality sink in just how far you are from home and how insignificant you feel.
Then your stomach growls and you’re back on the hunt for food. You make it down two more hallways before you start following a sign that looks like a bowl with steam hovering above. Slipping past two sliding doors, you step into a room of glistening glass panels leading to an arched doorway that steam billows through. Your best guess is some kind of locker room and sauna, so you quickly turn for the exit before you see sights you aren’t prepared for.
However, upon doing so, you smack right into a hard, large alien body. With his bare chest on display thanks to only wearing a fuzzy, brown towel-looking thing around his waist, he towers over you as you take a step back to meet his gaze.
“So sorry!” You hold your hands up in an apology, laughing a nervous sound that looks like it goes in one alien ear and out the other. “I’ll just… be… on… my way…”
An attempt to slip past him proves unsuccessful when he holds a large hand out, blocking you. “Why the hurry? Don’t you want to play with the recruits?” His question has your eyes growing wide. “Why else would a pretty little thing like you be doing in our sauna?” The alien wraps his hand around your arm, keeping you still. Your heart races, looking around for an exit, but coming up blank.
“Sorry, I think you’re mistaken.” You attempt to tug your arm back, but he’s too strong and his grip is too tight. Your stomach twists, gulping as the urgency takes over. “I shouldn’t have come in here. I didn’t mean to.”
“You’re right you shouldn’t,” he laughs, tugging on your arm to inch you closer to him. “But we can still play.”
“No, you should let go.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Or my big hot alien husband is going to kick your ass!” There, that should scare him. While your alien husband definitely gives golden retriever vibes, you have no doubt he could actually hurt someone if he needed to. And this alien creep in front of you definitely needed it. How were you going to actually summon him here? You have no idea, but he doesn’t know that.
“Husband, huh?” The alien grips your wrists tighter, causing you to wince as he brings your arm to his nose, inhaling a deep breath. “You don’t smell mated.”
“Okay, ew.” You poke his chest with your bare hand, which loosens his grip on you and allows you to free yourself from him. You take a few steps back and one to the right. “What is it with this alpha mates bullshit? Y’all should really get over yourselves! Stay there or my strong, scary husband will deal with you.” Inching your way toward those sliding doors, you try to distract him enough to make your escape.
“I don’t see a husband here.” His wicked grin sends off the warning signals as you back toward those sliding doors.
Unfortunately for him, your alien husband does show up in all of his possessive, jealous rage, wasting no time lunging toward the alien creep and pinning him against one of the glass panels. You hear the crack of glass as the white crystal shatters behind the two alien soldiers. You gasp and stumble away, watching as your husband wraps one strong hand around the other alien’s throat, making sure he stays put.
“Don’t ever touch my wife again or I will send you to meet the sun.” Okay, what the hell? That was one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. You have to stop yourself from pouncing your husband before he turns to you after releasing the alien. “Let’s go.” He pulls you with force out of the sauna to begin leading you down the confusing hallways.
“Do you really do that?” you question, looking up at him and bobbling along as you try to keep up with his pace. His expression is cold, like stone. He looks straight ahead with a tense jaw and wrinkled brow. “Send people to the sun?” The thought makes your stomach churn. Or, maybe it’s the gnawing hunger, you aren’t sure.
“Yes,” is his brusque reply before suddenly pulling you into a little alcove resting in the midst of the hallway. He pulls you close, staring down at you with fire in his eyes. “What were you doing out?” Was he upset at you? The sharpness in his tone would indicate he was, but you aren’t sure what you did wrong.
“I got hungry,” you pout, suddenly not so sure your alien husband is so excited to see you.
“You shouldn’t have left!” You jump at the harshness in his tone. Your eyes widen, gasping with an attempt to pull yourself from his grasp.
“You just left this morning and left me with no food and nothing to do!” Tears begin to well behind your lids, that unfamiliar yet knowing tug that threatens to snap the line of keeping it all together. “I didn’t mean to get lost, but I was hungry! I can’t read a lot of these signs here and I got turned around, and then that big alien just grabbed me and wanted to play, apparently, ew, and now you’re yelling at me and I don’t know what I did wrong!” His expression that was once like steel softens into confusion. His eyes bounce around your face, taking in the tears and your trembling bottom lip. He bites his own bottom lip as he exhales a heavy breath.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” His eyes glass over, pressing a hand to the side of your face so his thumb can wipe your tears. You can’t help yourself when you press your face into his touch. He’s so warm and you’ve had a terrible day. “I didn’t mean to blame you. That was wrong of me and as your husband I should have taken better care of you.” He pulls his cap from his head to run fingers through his hair, blowing out a breath. “I got so scared someone was trying to hurt you, I couldn’t think straight. Please, forgive me.”
Without warning, he grabs you by the wrist to pull you into him. His arms wrap around your body, holding against his own in the warmest, most comforting hug you’ve ever felt. Now your entire being melts into him, feeling so safe and protected and… what were you even crying about again?
“You don’t have to forgive me, then, but at least let me get you some food,” he suddenly says in your silence. You almost didn’t hear him. Is it possible to drift off to sleep while standing in someone’s embrace? You’re confident it is.
“I forgive you,” you whisper into his chest before inhaling the deepest breath you can manage. He smells so perfect, like clean linens on a sunny day. Rich, hot fudge with a scoop of ice cream. The fresh rainfall dripping from the leaves and onto your face as you run out to play as a little kid. All the things that remind you of home, and safety, and comfort flood your entire body with that breath.
“Good,” he pulls away, grinning with relief evident in his face. Suddenly, your mind comes to and you’re no longer considering running away with him to become space pirates in a far away galaxy. What the hell? You know he’d look amazing commanding a spaceship but your hot golden retriever alien husband would never. He’s too sweet.
You don’t know what came over you, but it’s still hard to stay upset with him. Why does he have to be so cute and hot and made of husband material? No one would stand a chance.
“Please, let me get you some food, and we can sit in the park and I can show you more of the ship. This is totally my fault. I want to make it up to you.”
So, if he’s willing to beg for your forgiveness, you’re not above letting him suffer for a bit. Hot alien husbands have to pay for their crimes, too. Who can blame you? You muster up your best puppy-eyed, pouty lip expression and nod at his words.
“Okay.” The word is quiet on your tongue, but he wraps an arm around you to pull you against his side, leading you out of the alcove and down a few more hallways with sliding doors until you’re stepping into the busy living area. He keeps you close to him as he walks the two of you through the crowds. Now that you’re accompanied with his guidance, you take in the area which can only be described now as a spaceship market.
There’s shops with clothes, and books, and gadgets lining the walls of the large, open space. Every other corner has either a butcher’s store, bakery, or fruits and vegetables stand. In the dead center is the grassy area you walked through before with the benches, ponds with the fish, and the artificial sun overhead.
The aromas of the food stands hit your nose to have your stomach groaning in hunger. He takes you through the living market until you spot one food stand with, surprisingly, earth food. At least, the names of the foods written on the board sound familiar enough. You settle for a simple sushi dish as he does the same, and the two of you take a seat at the iron table and chairs located in the seating area near the stands.
For a few moments, the two of you sit and try your food in silence. No doubt there’s tension in the air. You’re still making him suffer by saying nothing and only watching the people pass. You look upon the happy human-alien couples sitting and talking, walking around with their shopping bags. You wonder if that could ever be you. Of course, you have no problem with your husband, even if he did get scared enough over your safety he took that worry out on you. No, you only wonder if you could ever get used to this spaceship with all its confusing hallways and spontaneous sauna rooms. Could you actually fit in so far away from earth?
“I want to apologize again,” he suddenly says, pulling you from your worries. “When I saw someone else’s hands on you-” He rubs a hand over his face before reaching across the small to take your palm in his. “-I got so angry I couldn’t think straight for a while. It’s like I was blinded by the rage and couldn’t calm down even when it came to you. It was only your tears that cleared the haze.”
Well, you can’t blame him. If someone were grabbing all over your hot alien husband, you would probably want to fight, too. As far as him blaming you, he did apologize and understands where he messed up. You decide it’s time to truly forgive him and let him off the hook.
Nodding, you bite your lip and release an exhale. “How did you know where to find me?” You admit, if you developed some sort of summoning powers, it would be pretty cool. After all the excitement, you didn’t have time to think about it, but you were in such an obscure part of the ship so you wonder how he managed to know exactly where to come rescue you.
“I don’t know, I just had this feeling in my chest something was wrong, like distress, or fear, so I followed it.” He sighs a heavy breath, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. He looks so big and strong in his uniform, you almost get distracted, but then he continues. “That’s why I rushed out of there this morning. I woke up feeling like I was craving you. This… thing… in my chest was needing you. It’s like something awakened in me from our night together. So when you were in trouble, it sensed your emotions and led me straight to you.”
You stare, blinking. He can’t help but grin. It’s evident in your expression how crazy it sounds.
“So…” You nibble on your lip, thinking of your next question because you aren’t ready to tackle whatever the hell his emotions are making him feel. Today has been weird enough as it is. “You actually fling people into the sun?”
This has him laughing and you can’t help but to notice how pretty he is when he smiles. It makes you feel like you have a middle school crush. So many butterflies flutter in your stomach it almost worries you.
“It’s a form of punishment for the harshest of sentencing, but yes, we can.” He gives your hand a squeeze, rubbing your skin with his thumb. How can all of his touches, even the most simple, make you feel so good and calm and relaxed? “Touching someone’s mate is worthy of the punishment, though.”
“He said I didn’t smell mated, though,” you tell him, watching his expression darken for a split-second, then he’s back. “Can you really tell stuff like that?”
The big alien sighs and nods, gaze lowering. “That is also my fault. Typically we don’t wait around to claim our mates in ways that other unmated ones of our kind could detect.” He looks disappointed, but you know it’s only with himself. “Once it’s complete, you’re marked for every other male of my kind to stay away. I bet it is also linked with this… thing… inside me. I felt really strong today…”
“Huh?” Your brow wrinkles.
“Like I could move mountains. I think it’s from you and what we shared last night.” He blushes a little at remembering the bathing pool. It makes you grin and gives you a little bit of a confidence boost you can make this big, strong alien fold. “It needs you close, and when it’s happy, I’m stronger, but I think since we didn’t complete our, uh, bond, maybe it’s kind of going crazy.”
“That is insane.” You chew on your bottom lip while thinking over what he said. It makes as much sense as everything else in your life at this point. “Well, what’s one more thing when you’re married to an alien.” You shrug and grin at him, causing him to chuckle.
“Speaking of,” he begins, cleaning up after the two of you so you can make your way back to your new home now that you’re done eating, “we need to go down to the human alien communications office and finalize our arrangement.”
You freeze for a moment before standing from your chair. “I thought we already did that?”
“No, you signed the papers to be brought aboard, but not everything.” He throws your trash in a recycle bin and then holds out his hand with a shy grin. “I can lead you there now if you would like.”
You smile, nod, and slip your palm against his, walking together while he points out this oddity and that which you might find interesting. Along the way, there’s things you find cute when you look through the glass windows down each hallway, like a daycare for giant alien babies, and a spa for human mates probably needing a break from those babies. There’s a few more lounging areas, information desks with signs in multiple languages, and some offices and apartments, too.You don’t have time to take in much of the ship considering it doesn’t take long before you’re seated in front of a futuristic cyber-tech desk with an intimidating alien woman behind it.
Her dark hair is made up of braids lighting up with electric blues and green surging down to the end of each strand. Her lips pop with a neon pink and the glasses she wears casts holographic 3D images of the files detailing the relationship between your alien husband and you. Behind her is a glass window overlooking another bustling living market, except this one is lit up like Christmas Eve. If you’re being honest, she looks super cool and her office is the most intricate room you’ve seen so far, with lights racing up the walls and across the ceiling. Her long, glittering nails click-clack on an invisible keyboard you only see due to the letters illuminating a blue shadow over her face.
She’s too cool to tell her how cool she is, though, so you sit in silence with your hands folded in your lap.
“Have you completed your bonding process?” she asks, voice monotone as she types away. Her eyes remain straight ahead, zig-zagging across the 3D page in front of her.
“Uh, not yet,” he admits to her, rubbing the back of his neck. The alien girl sighs, clearly not interested in all the personal details, only wanting to do her job. You can relate so you don’t take offense.
“Then I imagine your bond is getting cranky, no?” There’s a hint of amusement in the question, but you have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Huh?” He blinks. You look between the two of them. There’s a smirk on her lips.
“They really don’t teach you stupid army brutes anything, do they?” She giggles, typing and typing, eyes back and forth. Then she freezes and visibly stiffens. The air grows thick in the office, making your heart race but your husband doesn’t seem to notice. “Oh, sorry…” You frown, finding it odd the girl is suddenly muttering. You lean closer, trying to look at the 3D page, realizing there’s a highlight. It’s a name, and after a few seconds of squinting, you see it’s your husband’s name with the title Prince next to it.
Huh? You lean closer, but suddenly the 3D, glittering, glowy image is gone. Now you’re face to face with her staring straight at you. Gasping, you settle back in your seat.
“So, as it stands, you will need to sign a few documents stating that after your trial period, you will be traveling back to your home planet Omberus to serve as Prince of the Court of the Sun, accompanied by your new bride, the newest Princess of the Sun Court.”
“Um, what?!” You nearly jump out of your seat, eyes wide and mouth slacked. “Princess? Prince? Hello? What’s going on?” You look between them both. Your alien husband looks a little uneasy, and she looks about as uninterested as when you first arrived.
“Understood,” is all he says, nodding.
“If your bride decides she does not wish to accompany you to your home planet after a week of the bonding ceremonies, then she is free to return to earth unclaimed. Is that clear?”
You’re hanging on to the edge of your seat at the point. Why did no one tell you any of this? And what the hell is up with the prince and princess talk? Are you really free to leave and go home? Not that you had much of a home to begin with, but at least it’s a choice you can make on your own. At least it’s somewhere familiar, somewhere you can fit in.
You feel him staring at you as your gaze falls to the floor at your feet. You weren’t aware you had an option, and you certainly weren’t aware you would by flying even farther away from earth to live on his home planet forever.
“Understood,” you tell her, and you can physically feel the tension in the room. He turns away from you and you finally let go of the breath you were holding.
“If the human decides to stay, you will be free to live on your planet.” She clicks a few more times on her keyboard before a small opening on her desk exposes a finger pad lit up in green lights, looking straight out of the Matrix. “Press your index fingers here to sign.”
He goes first, placing his finger on the pad, waiting a few seconds, then pulling away. Following, you press your finger to the pad, feeling a sharp pinch before yanking your hand back.
“Ow!” You look at your husband looking unfazed.
“You’re free to go. Remember the rules of the contract. It’s signed in blood.”
You look down at the pinpoint drop of blood on your finger before jumping up from your seat. You rush into the hallway, following the LED signs that lead you away from this resource department. You hear the heavy footsteps behind you, knowing your husband is following close behind, trying to keep up as he calls your name.
“Wait!” Finally, a hand wrapping around your arm grabs hold of you, stalling your steps and spinning you around to face him. You’re both standing in the corner where two lonely hallways meet. There’s a large glass window to your right, earning your attention out into the wide expanse of darkness, making you feel so, so small, and helpless, and hopeless. You don’t know if you can do it anymore. It was one thing to be close to earth, hoping to maybe visit sometime. It’s another to travel to another galaxy and live on a completely different planet.
It all becomes too much. Your breath quickens, shortens, disappears inside your lungs and you find it so hard to inhale suddenly. The hallways begin to shrink, neon lights beginning to form stars in your eyes. Your vision tunnels. Your heart goes into overdrive.
“Look at me.” Two strong hands cup the sides of your face. You blink, narrowing your vision in on your husband’s face. His eyes are locked onto yours. His lips are moving, but it’s hard to hear his voice over the ringing in your ears. “Breathe in. Slowly. Inhale. That’s it. Now exhale. Slowly.” The voice guides your lungs without a thought once you can zero in on it. The air returns, the ringing quiets, your heart rate slows. Suddenly, his face becomes more clear, and you reach out, pressing your palms against his shoulders and squeezing.
“I can’t do it,” you whisper to him, watching the confusion spread in his features. “I can’t go to your planet.”
“What?” You see the heartbreak in his eyes. It’s evident in the way his lids lower, squinting a little with a slacked jaw and parted lips, brow wrinkled just enough to say how you caught him off guard. “Please… you don’t mean that. You can’t…”
You don’t want to cry, but the way the words tremble off his lips have the tears swelling behind your lids. “I can’t do it, I’m sorry.” You begin shaking your head, taking a step away from him. His hands fall from your face and yours fall from his shoulders. “I can’t go to a completely different planet and live with you.” You don’t tell him you’re scared. It wouldn’t matter now that you have already broken his heart.
“Please don’t say that…” He grabs your hands to keep you from moving any farther away. “You can’t leave me, please…” You push him away before you can feel the tremble in his hand.
“I want to go home,” is all you can whisper, watching all hope drain from his beautiful, puppy dog eyes.
***
Since you made your decision before the seven day trial was over, you were beamed down to earth that evening with Jellybean and your two bags of stuff. Unfortunately for you, your apartment has already been rented out since it doesn’t take long when aliens are involved, leaving you with your best friend’s place as the only option to crash. You were thankful she had no problem letting you sleep on her couch.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” she asks as she preps the couch with a pillow and fresh blankets. You filled her in on everything that has happened since getting the news, even all the juicy bits, and so far she only seems impressed with your alien husband. Maybe even a little jealous in the good way that best friends can be. “I mean, yeah, it’s like, not right down the road, but I’m sure he’ll get you there at lightspeed. They have all the cool technology. I don’t see the issue. Ooh, maybe they have an intergalactic Uber. Wouldn’t that be cool?”
You sigh and shake your head, petting Jellybean's little orange ears as he purrs in your lap. Sera’s been kind enough to not mind a little cat hair while you crash at her place. You’ll need to think of a way to replay her one of these days.
“I just freaked out. I don’t know.” Huffing, you roll your eyes at your own decisions with a lump in your gut. “I don’t know what I want, really, but I got scared at the idea of going to a completely different planet with all the aliens and alien stuff. I wouldn’t know anyone, or anything, or what to do or how to act or what to say. Not to mention the prince aspect of it. What the hell is that about?!” You stand, pacing back and forth as you talk while Jellybean runs to hide. Sera watches with a sigh.
“Well, sounds like you would be treated like royalty on this alien planet.” She shrugs before beginning to clean up the take-out containers on the coffee table. She continues mumbling while leaving the living room of her small apartment to dump the trash in the kitchen. “Which probably means fancy clothes, and yummy feasts, and parties, and servants, and most likely anything you could ever want because it sounds like your alien man is already obsessed with you. He’s seen you play with your pussy once and is already crying that you’re leaving.”
She returns with a grin on her face. You huff and pout at her. “When you put it like that, it makes me sound dumb to leave him!” She giggles at the way you stomp your foot. You know she’s right. How could you turn away a life of being spoiled and pampered by an alien man that would kill anyone that touched you?
Still, the fear weighs heavy on you as you attempt to fall asleep that night. You try to ignore the way you already miss how warm your husband was. His big body kept you so safe and cozy all through the night, is it possible to already become addicted? The way you toss and turn on Sera’s couch proves it to be true. You just can’t get comfortable, and all you can think about is your husband’s heartbroken face when you told him you wanted to go back to earth.
A gnawing pain chews at the inside of your chest, forming a sunken cavern of sudden longing. There’s no way you can miss him already. You don’t even know him. But you know every time you close your eyes to try to sleep, you see his face in the darkness. The heartbreak in his features sketches indentations inside your memory, never escaping the sadness of being without one another forever.
The longing becomes so intense you whisper to yourself in the darkness not to cry. The tension behind your eyes tugs on the threat, wanting to snap free every time a memory from the past two days pops into your head. You curse at yourself not to think of him, trying to count sheep and practice meditated breathing, but nothing works. Your mind goes back to him because something inside your chest calls out for him. Like a magnet, it pulls for him in every direction, image and image of the days spent together flashing through your mind. The first tear hits your cheeks when you remember the bathing pool and they begin to cascade down when thoughts of him saving you come to mind.
You need him, desperately. So urgently you feel as if your heart won’t beat if he’s not near to give you a pulse. You don’t know what’s come over you, you only feel the aching inside your chest. It burns, deep inside you red hot flames licking upon your loneliness like waves against a rocky shore.
You jump up, clutching your chest and gasping to receive enough air. Darkness clouds your vision in every direction, seeing shadows dance along the walls. Your chest feels tight and your hands begin to shake, oblivious to your surroundings or the fact that the front door is being crashed into, a large alien body forcing his way in to make his way to you.
“I’m here, sweetheart.” He cups your face, just like he did on the spaceship, informing you to breathe in and out. You follow the instructions without thinking, inhaling slow and deep, exhaling while the tension melts from your body. “I’m here, you don’t have to worry.” His thumbs brush away the tears before he leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead.
“I-I…” you begin stammering, but he silences you by gathering you up in his arms, taking a seat on the couch to hold you in his lap. Your head becomes buried in his neck as you clutch his shirt in your fists. The tears don’t stop falling as he folds you tight against him.
“I know, sweetheart,” he whispers, soothing your back with a large palm beneath your shirt as you cry against him. “I felt you call me through our bond. I came as quickly as I could. Don’t cry, I’m here now.”
“I-I can’t…” You sniffle, trying to catch your breath before speaking. “I can’t live without you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I just want to go home with you, please, say it’s not too late. I want you to be my husband again.” Tears waterfall down your cheeks as you cry and ramble and beg him. He squeezes you tighter, allowing you to melt into his big, beautiful warmth and comfort. This is what you needed all along. How could you ever be scared of anything when you have him to protect you?
“Of course it’s not too late,” he soothes your cries with his words. “You’re mine. My human. My wife. My mate. Mine. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do in this galaxy and any other for you. I’d rearrange the cosmos if it meant keeping my mate happy, so please, say you’ll return with me?”
“Of course,” you mumble against him, sobbing into his shirt as he holds you tight, soothing all your tears away with his hands on you. You continue to straddle his lap, pressed against him and soon all your worries do fade away. That comfort and warmth you’re growing to love returns to flood you with instant relief. Like euphoria on cloud nine with your coziest childhood blanket. It engulfs you in safety, an assurance you’ll always be okay if you’re with him. “I need you.”
You feel the exhale of the breath he was holding. You pull away from him, looking into his eyes to see tears just the same. Your alien husband cried for you, so scared you wouldn’t return to him. No wonder whatever inside his chest brought him to you. Like you were created for one another as destiny would have it. You met one another at the perfect time.
“I need you to need me,” is all he says and all you can do is lean in and press your lips to his. The kiss is electric, igniting a spark of hope in one another as the softest skin and gentlest motions earn a whimper against his lips. He’s so careful as he kisses you back, like he might break you if he makes the wrong move, or ruin the moment if he isn’t perfect. But you’ve already decided your alien husband is the most perfect being in any galaxy and you’re going home with him to his planet.
Turns out, your home aboard the alien spaceship wasn’t just a home, but it was its own spacepod, capable of jumping from galaxy to galaxy at the speed of light to get to your husband’s home planet. All you had to do was pass the living room, press on a certain book on the bookshelf, and a door would open leading you to a high tech alien cockpit. The two of you wasted no more time before you departed the alien spaceship (after he stayed a while to fix the front door he slammed through), deciding if your minds are made up, there’s no point in waiting for the rest of the trial week.
He strapped you into the co-pilot’s seat with a grunt, making sure each buckle was fastened and each strap was secured. He wasn’t taking any chances with his wife. Then he settled in the pilot’s seat, and God, he looked so hot. You had to remind yourself not to drool over him as he pressed all the fancy buttons with the pretty lights and radioed in about the departure. He’s never looked more serious or sexy, seeing why his job is to train new cadets. He’s a total pro and takes his role as flight captain seriously.
By the time you’re orbiting his home planet, it feels as if no time has passed at all. Jellybean meows in your lap, barely affected by the jump through space. Maybe he’s learning to be an alien kitty after all. You look through the screen ahead, taking in the vibrant colors of his planet, Omberus. Breathtaking hues of pinks, purples, and blue swirl into a vivid scene of life before you. Mixed between miles and miles of endless ultramarine oceans that fade into glittering, celestial waves the closer to land. Not to mention, two suns and multiple moons orbit the heavenly hued planet. The moons even have their own nightlife bustling about, you see as your ship zooms past.
His planet is stunningly gorgeous. Your heart soars at the sight, like seeing your favorite movie for the first time, but you don’t know it’s going to be your favorite. It leaves an impact on your soul from its beauty alone, touching your heart in a way that brings you to tears.
“This is where you’re from?” you ask in a whisper, filling the otherwise silent cockpit with your voice. You turn to him as he steers the ship, his face illuminated by the lights on the dashboard.
“This is my home planet, yes,” he says coolly, pulling the handles and pushing a few buttons as the two of you begin your descent. “Which is now your home, and the territory we’re flying to is where I grew up and where you are now the princess.”
“The Sun Court?” You remember the cool lady’s words when she mentioned the planet, though it mostly went over your head.
“Yes,” he replies, smiling more to himself than anyone else. The sight warms your heart. He’s excited to return to his planet. While you’re scared out of your mind if you’re being honest, it makes you happy to see his shy grin as he prepares for landing. The two of you zoom into the planet’s atmosphere as he gives you a brief breakdown of things when he thinks of them. The climate is similar to earth if not cooler, with a day lasting thirty of earth’s hours, and it is constantly summertime in his territory. The ship flies through pastel colored clouds, revealing lush scenery beneath. Your jaw slacks as he circles a tower with a landing pad on it, attached to some sort of welcome center, or five-star hotel, you aren’t sure. The place is huge, however, and you can’t stop yourself from looking wide-eyed out of the screen ahead.
The building sits nestled against the side of a mountain, intimidating walls standing high with elegant gold trim tells you this place is only for royalty. It’s straight out of a fairytale. The walls are literally glittering thanks to the two suns. The ocean crashes against the sides of the mountain, making for a breathtaking scene before you.
He lands the ship with ease and soon the two of you are crawling out onto the roof with a pissed off Jellybean in your arms. A hoard of aliens in fancy, velvet robes and dresses come rushing over to the two of you, hearing the pitter-patter of their feet against the glass floor. Or, should you say ceiling, braving a glance down to see what looks like a spaceship garage beneath you, descending multiple floors deep into the mountain. You look straight ahead at your husband leading the way toward the group of people, making sure you don’t get sick from a fear of heights.
“Prince! Welcome back! Princess! Welcome to our planet, we are so happy to have you here!”
You're never going to get used to that, nor are you going to get used to these aliens bowing to the two of you and rushing to grab your items from the ship. One even takes Jellybean from you before you can protest. The one who greeted you, a shorter, older alien man with gray eyes and smile lines, motions for the two of you to follow him. He leads you away from the landing pad and through the door that materializes from crystals right before your very eyes. Once you’re through, the crystal door disappears behind you. You’re left in a long, quiet hallway, trying to take in its glass floors and lighted panels on the wall. This place is regal and futuristic, leaving your jaw hanging.
“Preparations are already in order for you both to get settled, washed, and dressed for tonight’s feast. The rest of the court will be waiting to celebrate the Prince’s arrival and his new bride, our Princess.”
Everytime someone says it, it just sounds all the more weird. You have bruises from pinching yourself so much to see if you’re dreaming. You try to keep up with their big alien footsteps, practically running down the hall as they pay you no mind, only talking between themselves.
“I told them no celebrations.”
“They insisted.”
“We don’t need to draw attention to ourselves when you know what we’re here for.”
“I’m aware, your highness, but you know the court loves a good party…”
Suddenly, they stop walking, mutter a few things to themselves as the three of you stand at the entrance to a large foyer with grand, sparkling columns, calm waters in a circular pond in the middle, and vines of sparkling fauna wrap intricately around the room. You didn’t think this place could get any more magical.
Your alien prince turns to you, a gentle smile on his lips. “There are preparations in place for the two of us. You’ll follow Biron to your suite and he’ll introduce you to the servants to begin. I’ll see you soon.”
And that’s that, apparently. You follow this alien Biron into the magical looking foyer with a pool and down another equally magical hallway. Lining the walls are portraits of royalty adorning crowns made of vibrant green vines and yellow flowers. Your jaw drops at the painted portraits, taking in each generation of prince and princess. Biron doesn’t say much as he escorts you, only telling you to turn here and go there. You follow him into a room with a large marble staircase, beginning to ascend the steps with glittery, glowing vines around the banisters.
It goes like that for a few minutes. He leads you to another magical, hi-tech alien room in this ginormous castle, then down another hallway, again and again until you’re all turned around and confused. Finally, you come face to face with another crystal door that materializes before you at the end of the one the hallways.
“Right through here. The ladies will get you taken care of and prepared for tonight’s feast, Princess. If there’s anything any of you need, please have one of them fetch me. Until then…”
He gives a polite nod. The crystal door opens, revealing another room waiting. Before you know it, you’re pushed inside and there’s a million hands on you. Alien women oohing and ahhing at the human, tugging on your clothes, combing through your hair with their fingers. You hiss and groan and resist the urge to smack one of them. You know they’re just doing their job of assisting the princess, but you begin to feel the sting of their poking and prodding. You’re not used to this, and they’re speaking in a language you don’t understand. It’s not even one you’ve heard before. It’s like words mixed with little zips and zaps.
They manage to get you naked and in a large, hot porcelain tub full of steaming water after a while. They begin scrubbing this body part and that, and honestly you let them after a while because it reminds you of that scene from Mulan. The ladies quiet into soft hums as they take care of you, cleaning you up until you smell of exotic flowers and sweet delights.
Once you’re out of the tub and all dried off, they seat you down in front of a vanity with a towel wrapped around you and a brush already in your hair. One lady begins patting your face with creams and serums before she begins to apply make-up. Another brings dresses over to you, holding them and all their beautiful lace and frills up to your chin, picking out different colors before settling on a low cut, emerald gown with tulle and embroidered flowers to outline the bust.
When they’re done with you, you feel like a fairy. You’re shimmering and shiny, with high light in all the right places, your hair fixed with what looks like flecks of stardust, and the dress outlines the curves of your body while still feeling elegant enough. You have no complaints for the ladies. If they’re going to make you look like an actual Princess, they can poke and prod all they want. Grinning, you turn and thank them even though they probably don’t know earth languages. Your smile must tell them all they need to know. Though they look like you, their features are almost robotic in how they process and display emotion. They smile in return, waving goodbye to you before Biron leads you out of the alien spa.
“You look lovely, Princess,” he says with a bow when greeting you, and you nervously chuckle and bow at him because you have no idea what to do in this situation. He smirks, shaking his head and motioning for you to follow him. “Your husband is eager to see you. He’s been asking about you nonstop for an hour.”
Wow, did the ladies really keep you longer than an hour? Time flies when you’re getting The Princess Diaries Special. The thought of your alien husband, your prince, nervously waiting around for you makes your heart swell, warmth flooding your body at just the mention of him. You know you should be freaked out about all the princess stuff, but something inside your chest constantly reminds you it's all okay as long as you have him. You believe it. Your insides are buzzing with excitement to see him now.
Biron tries to make small talk as he leads you through the royal and majestic maze that is this mansion and apparently your new home. You still haven’t processed that news yet. You want to get this welcome home party over with first. You just hope alien hubby has a map drawn out for you or something. You can’t rely on that thing in his chest to find you every day.
“How is the weather like on your planet currently?” He extends his hand as he asks, leading you onto what looks like a magical, futuristic elevator. You step onto the lift and he follows, tapping a few invisible buttons floating just below his hand. Holy crap. You hope they have sticky notes so you can practice that.
“Hot as balls,” you tell him without thinking as the lift descends.
“Oh! Um…” Biron goes speechless from shock. You bite your lip in embarrassment.
“Sorry, I know that’s not very Princess-like.”
Surprisingly, Biron chuckles. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Okay, Biron is a cool, old alien dude. You turn to him smiling, and he laughs some more. Since your Prince is the epitome of a golden retriever husband, it makes sense for his staff to be so laid back and cool. It must be nice working for him since they all seem satisfied and eager to fulfill his requests.
The doors open to lead to a landing before a huge staircase. Below is what you assume to be the ballroom and the place the celebrations are happening. All you hear from behind is a “Good luck, Princess,” from Biron and suddenly you’re all alone. You take a few steps forward, heels clicking on the glass floor just a few feet from the staircase, each step illuminated by the reflections of the crystals sparkling off the natural moonlight seeping in through large, arched windows. Crystal chandeliers light up the rest of the alien ball room and it looks like a scene straight out of a fantasy novel.
You take another step, noticing heads beginning to turn toward you, and once they do, they keep their gaze focused. Alien after alien snaps their sights at you until nearly the entire ballroom has gone quiet. All eyes on their new princes, some gaping, some dropping to the floor to bow. All of them making it hard to breathe as you try to inhale enough air to get your legs moving. It doesn’t work, so you’re frozen at the top of the stairs like some hanging portrait at your funeral. Here lies your Princess. Died from too many people looking at once. She leaves behind one Jellybean and an impressive toy collection.
You’re having one of those panic attacks again. The one where everything feels like a dream and you aren’t sure what’s real. You scan the room for an escape, eyes bouncing from this confused alien face to the one next him that looks hangry. Looking behind you leaves you feeling more lonely and hopeless than before, and so you’re all alone, on an alien planet and everyone is looking at you and sure, you look amazing, but now they’re whispering and beginning to smirk. You don’t think even teenage you could have dreamed up something this embarrassing.
Suddenly you’re breathing. Like, actually taking a deep breath in, then you hold it, and finally exhale. You do it again. The room becomes a little more clear. There’s a voice. Breathe in. Breathe out. You listen, you don’t think. You just do. Breathe in. Breathe out. You hear him next to you, his face coming into view a second later and you’ve never been more relieved to see your husband.
“Oh, it’s you,” you whisper, voice trembling and bottom lip quivering. “That man of my dreams.”
He quickly, but gently pulls you away from the crowd and back toward the elevator. The party continues on, a roar of gossip all at once suddenly drowning out everything else as everyone returns to what they were doing. Music begins playing, something classy and classical sounding similar to earth’s Mozart or Tchaikovsky. You try to focus on these little details to stop your mind from spinning.
“Look at me, sweetheart,” he says, face next to yours, hands cupping your jaw. You stare into his eyes, blinking a few times and taking in their worry. His brow is furrowed and you tell yourself to focus on how cute he looks when he’s worried so you don’t get wrapped up in your panic again. You guess getting married to an alien and flying off to another galaxy is a lot for a girl to handle. “Come back to me. Breathe for me. Talk to me.”
Just like that, you’re safe. You’re comfortable. Maybe that’s why you didn’t care about moving planets. When he’s this close and you need him this much to calm you, he feels like your home. What else do you need?
“That was…” You exhale a heavy breath with your eyes closed. “That was a lot of people. I just got scared…”
“It’s okay,” he tells you, smiling in reassurance. “We should not be having this party anyway with the-” His expression hardens for a second, then his smile returns. “Why don’t we just go back to our sleeping quarters, okay? We don’t have to have any celebrations right now.”
“Really?” How did you get so lucky to have such a sweet and understanding husband? Seriously, you wonder if Sera hacked some files at her job to score you the best alien husband there was. If so, you were going to send her a long distance alien care package.
You look to your right over your shoulder at the room of people flowing about in the ballroom. The party looks so pretty and you would hate to leave it, but it is a lot to take in in one day. Hopefully the royal whoever will understand, and maybe there can be another party when you’re feeling up to it.
You agree to retiring for the evening, taking his head as he leads you back to the elevator. You ascend down to the very bottom floor, which takes a few minutes so you wonder how deep does this alien castle go down into the mountain. The doors open to lead into the largest bedroom you have ever seen. Black, titanium floors. Midnight blue walls with alien scriptures glowing in galaxy hues across its pattern. The largest, most royal looking bed with gold trim and sheets to match the walls literally floats in the middle of the room. Huge, icy windows overlook the ocean just beneath the mountain, stardust and the moon’s light brightening the night outside.
You’re in awe. Speechless. “Is this our bedroom?”
“Do you like it?” he questions, leading you inside as the doors slide to a close behind you. As you enter the bedroom, you spot a matching bathing pool to your right past sparkling curtains fluttering in the breeze sneaking in through those large windows. It’s like your own little private sanctuary you get to share with him and only him. A bedroom fit for royalty, made for a prince and his princess.
“I love it.” You do a full spin, noticing a large, black crystal chandelier hanging above, bringing that starlight into the bedroom as the moon’s glow casts shadows all around. It’s simply magical. “I can’t believe we live here. In this big alien castle inside an alien mountain on an alien planet.”
He chuckles, standing near the door to watch you take everything in. He looks at you with different galaxies in his eyes, like he feels nothing but inner peace. You are finally calm enough to take in his regal attire. The colors of the royal guard must be blue considering the deep hue of his jacket and matching slacks. Gold trim in blossoming spirals of flowers brings the soldier’s dress attire to life. He looks divine with his hair slicked back, clearly freshly showered, shaved, and completely irresistible.
The day has felt so long without him, and considering the drama it took to get the two of you here on his planet, it’s felt even longer without being close to him. Neither of you have had a second to stop and take in one another’s company. After all, this is the week you are supposed to be getting to know your new husband, but it’s been a rollercoaster.
“I’ve missed you,” you tell him, voice quiet as you stand in the middle of the lavish alien bedroom and fidget with your hands.
The corner of his mouth quirks in a grin. “It’s been dire without you close,” is all he says, sending your heart racing. For an alien man that’s so shy and inexperienced, he sure knows the right things to say to have you melting into a puddle. “You look simply stunning tonight, my wife.”
Grinning, his words give you a little boost of confidence. You go to him as he lingers near the door, coming face to face with him.
“I’ve been thinking about kissing you.” His lips part. His sharp inhale isn’t as obvious because he tries to hide the effect your words have on him. “I’ve been thinking about our first night together, too.”
“O-Oh…” He begins to mutter and shift from foot to foot, rubbing the back of his neck. You grin at him because he’s so cute. The first night together seems like centuries ago when so much has happened since then. Truth is, you could be anywhere in the universe as long as you have him. It doesn’t sound normal. Maybe something you would read in a smutty, sci-fi romance story. It feels right inside your chest, though. There’s a swirling source of energetic warmth that tells you to let your guard down and trust him, so you do.
Now that warmth in your chest needs him close.
“Can I kiss you?” you ask him in a whisper, knowing it’s what you both want, you feel it inside you, but there’s still a chance of rejection. You ask him softly because he’s still so uncertain, so scared to fail he’s almost not willing to try. You would wait as long as it takes for him to gain the courage, and if he can’t, you’ll coax out what was there all along. “I’ve really missed my husband. These past few days have been so… weird, but I just know I want us to be closer.”
His body softens at that. A gentle smile crosses his lips. You grin in return, trying to remain cool and lead him toward the floating bed, noticing soft clouds billowing out from beneath as you grow closer. You bite your lip in an attempt to keep from screaming over the fact that you’re about to make out with the hottest alien on the coolest looking bed. You feel like the main character in a fantasy novel.
“Will you help me with my dress?” you ask him. You’re sad to see it go, but there’s too many layers and frills and sparkles to get in the way, and you need your body pressed to his like yesterday.
You hear him audibly gulp before he moves behind you, tugging on a zipper and a strap and suddenly the pretty fabric is circled around your feet on the floor. You didn’t mean to give your husband a spontaneous strip show, but you forgot you were wearing nothing underneath. You stand bare at the edge of the bed, stepping out of the dress and turning to face him. You don’t shy away from him. There’s no use when you’re married forever now. You watch his eyes travel up and down your body, stopping to linger on certain parts, licking his lips at others.
This hot alien wants you. Badly. He may be too shy to act on it, but the body language is telling you a story you’re about to need a sequel to, merchandise, and a three movie deal. You’ll still remain patient for it all, however. Maybe allowing him to look at your naked body, other than the killer heels you’re wearing, helps him adjust little by little. Baby steps are fine with you. The warmth in your chest tells you it’s okay to wait forever for him.
“Sit down,” you guide him as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed. You have to admit, standing naked in front of this big, strong alien while he wears his elegant, yet intimidating royal dresswear does something to your confidence and your pussy. He can’t stop looking over your breasts though he’s seen you bare the first night you were together. There’s a hunger in his eyes, and as much as you want to feed it, you only want to feel close to him tonight. You have forever to figure the rest out.
Carefully, you straddle his lap, one bare leg on either side of him until your core rests against him. There’s hard evidence of his excitement in the moment, feeling his cock press through his pants, rubbing against your bare pussy.
“You can touch me,” you tell him, voice soft as you look into his eyes. “Whatever you feel comfortable doing to me, you can do it.” A darkness takes over his eyes at the words, as if he’s imagining a million things he could do with each part of your body he wants to touch. This realization ignites a fire inside of you. You know you’re already wet for him. You’re already so hot and worked up. If you looked, you’re sure you would see yourself dripping onto him.
After wrapping your arms around his neck, you lean in, pressing your lips to his own. Softly, gently, you test the waters until he opens up to the feeling. He presses his mouth into you just a little bit, causing you to whimper against his soft lips because he wants this just as much as you. You’re a goddess in this alien’s lap, guiding him because you have him wrapped around your finger.
You deepen the kiss the moment you feel his hands on your hips. He’s hesitant at first, but when you nip at his bottom lip, he squeezes indentations into your skin, mood shifting into something more desperate.
“I can feel you,” he mumbles against your lips between kisses. A groan erupts from his chest the moment your fingers slip between the strands of his hair, nails scratching his scalp as your tongue caresses his bottom lip. “You’re so hot against my cock, baby.” His hips begin to move beneath you, creating friction between your bare pussy rubbing against his pants covering the huge hard on he has for you. A moan slips out before you can stop it, heat swelling from your center at the sudden sensation.
“Kissing you makes me hot,” you tell him, pushing down against him to roll your hips, grinding against his cock and earning another groan. “I want you so badly, my prince. I’m so hot and wet for you.”
Calling him your prince must have flipped a switch inside of him. He lets out a grunt, then groans as he pushes his hips into you, caressing your wet, aching pussy with his cock from below. The motion earns a whimper of his name. You grin against him, slipping back and forth over his pants, feeling the ridges of his cock against your soaked cunt. You dig in, wanting more pressure, more friction, riding against him as the heat of bliss begins to swell.
“I think you might make me come,” you warn him, breathless, voice just a whisper. Your thighs begin to shake around him and your fingers tug at the strands of his hair. He keeps a tight hold on your body as you move together. “I’m… I’m coming for you, my prince,” you cry out, gasping and whimpering his name as the peak of your pleasure swells and crashes over you. He wraps his arms around your body, holding you close with a grunt and a few curses under his breath you weren’t aware he knew. You’re shaking against him, breathless, completely spent and crashing into his body once the high cools down.
You hear his heavy breaths, too. His forehead falls against your shoulder. You stay settled in his lap, hands still in his hair, scratching his head tiredly.
“I’ve never…” His voice is quiet, so you almost miss it when he begins talking. “I’ve never been able to do that before.”
You gather the strength to pull away, looking down at him. “What? Come from dry humping? Come in your pants? Come untouched?”
“Just… come… as you put it...”
It takes a second, but the realization leaves you with parted lips and a slowly nodding head. “Oh… oh, okay.” You just gave your hot, strong, sexy alien husband, who is also a prince, his first orgasm as you sat naked on his lap. If that doesn't give a girl confidence, you aren’t sure what will.
“Did you enjoy it?” you ask, not wanting to let your own excitement get in the way. You try to keep calm about it. You don’t want him to feel anymore insecure. He grins at you, blushing.
“I think we should kiss more often.” He bites his lip, looking shy and adorable. How he goes from intimidating warrior alien to shy cutie pie should be studied in a lab somewhere. How did you get so lucky?
You aren’t sure, but this is your life now. You might as well embrace it. The warm feeling in your chest tells you you’ll be okay as long as you have him, no matter where in the universe.
Summary: Injured during a mission to protect Lucifer's child, San begins to doubt his dreams of having his own someday. It's only your comfort that convinces him it's not all pointless.
Tags: polyamorous relationship (m/m/m/f) bisexual!demonline, graphic depictions of violence, serious injuries, scenes of child birth/child labor, blood, blood and violence, angels vs demons, religious imagery, underage storylines, mentions/allusions to underage violence, implied child neglect/abuse, crime, mentions of childbirth death and complications, fluffy vanilla sex this time, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, breeding kink, breeding.
Pretty Lady Masterlist
Previously on Pretty Lady
***
He’d never seen anything like it before. The young woman laid on the stone table in the torch lit room, sweat gleaming on her body and blood oozing from her legs. Dark hairs sticking to her forehead, her face squeezed tight as she made attempts to push the child from her. Women wearing black cloaks stood around her, dabbing cold cloths on her forehead and encouraging her to breathe between pushes. One sat at the edge between her legs, gloves on her knobbly hands as she urged the woman to keep going. Around the room, monks in crimson cloaks held black candles. Her cries drowned out their low chanting, an incantation to welcome the new babe into the world. San couldn’t keep his eyes off the mother. She looked so young. She couldn’t be any older than you, and here she was harboring the greatest responsibility a servant of Lucifer can bear.
His seed.
He’d heard people around her say how lucky she is to be pregnant with Lucifer’s child; it is a high honor to carry the King’s child. They tell her that she will be the mother of a powerful lord, who will take over the world and rule as a living god. He heard one midwife talk of Lucifer’s other children, and how successful they’d become. Very few women have had the privilege to carry the new Antichrist. She should be thankful for this child’s birth is a slight upon The Almighty. San knew he’d be more worried about not dying during the birth than the honor of being chosen.
“Your first birthing ceremony, son?”
The soldier beside him leaned over and whispered, not catching anyone’s attention. San almost didn’t hear him. He saw more blood staining the mother’s white dress. San shed more blood than either of his brothers, but this was different.
“Yes, sir.”
Hector chortled. His former commander stood in bronze armor that popped against his green tinged skin. His horns, white and ribbed, curved from the top of his forehead and his wings remained close to his back. He stood several inches taller than San, and much wider too.
“Is it always this…bloody?” he asked, watching the midwife reach forward.
“Yes, sometimes bloodier depending on the woman,” he replied. “It is an honor to be here, Choi. Not just anyone is chosen to protect The King’s offspring.”
“I know.”
The messenger came to the Black Keep with a royal summons from His Majesty to San. San thought it might be to perform a demonstration in the frozen palace in the ninth circle, since he’d done it before, but he’d been wrong. Lucifer had impregnated another follower, who was due any day. They’d chosen him and others to protect the mother and child. His brothers begged him not to go.
“You could die, San. You could actually die if an angel gets their sword in you.”
“Please, decline. You can tell him that while you are honored, you cannot accept. San, you’d be going to the living world and you’d be facing holy magic. That can actually kill us. Do you hear me? A holy blade can and will kill you.”
“Sannie, don’t go.”
Your plea had been the softest of them. Even if you didn’t fully understand the gravity of the situation, you didn’t like the sound of it. The look of concern in your eyes haunted him as he stepped through the portal into the living world. He found himself memorizing your kiss when they arrived at the church. Standing in the circular room, watching a young woman give her life for her master, you kept rushing to his mind. It was possible that this birth would be successful and he'd go home to you. But, the likelihood of a fight was also possible. Every soldier faces the risk when they head into battle. San knows once he picks up his sword, he agrees to the fight. There’d been a time in his life where he’d join without hesitation, but that changed when you arrived.
The image of you sitting across from him, laughing at one of his jokes and engaging in conversation, brought comfort to him. In a world of blood and pain, you’d become a beacon of warmth; the candle in the window or the light in his valley of darkness. When he first looked at you upclose, seeing you in the soft firelight, he felt you slip through the chinks in his armor. He still thinks about the vision of you on the soft sheets, soundlessly sleeping next to him the morning after. He’d wanted to stay holding you a bit longer. San wanted to know the beautiful “human” who’d wandered into his life so unexpectedly. He’s thankful you’d decided to stay so he can keep digging for more.
“Father,” the midwife turned to the coven leader, “There’s something wrong.”
“What’s wrong?!” the mother panicked hearing this, eyes wide with fear as she looked between them. Neither priest or midwife answered her, but instead quietly spoke to one another. “What is going on?! What’s wrong with my baby?!”
San’s blood ran cold. He watched the pair continue talking before the priest went to retrieve a black bottle from a nearby altar. He bid the mother to drink it, telling her it’ll save her child. San saw him bring the bottle to her lips, and she gulped it greedily. Thin crimson trails leaked from the sides of her mouth, not going to waste as she wiped them. Suddenly, she screamed. A terrible, painful scream ripped through her chest and out into the world. Bony fingers gripped the sheets underneath her, and her toes tightly curled inwards. The midwives encouraged her to keep pushing, even as her screams turned into guttural snarls. San’s eyes widened as that final push ended in high pitched squeals drowning her out. The coven members awed and praised her as the head midwife pulled the squalling babe from her.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hector asked, wiping his eyes. “I always cry at these things.”
“Yes. It’s wonderful,” San said in a monotone voice.
The midwife wiped the blood and matter from the baby, and San finally caught a look at it. Skin the color of snow, he saw small hands and feet kicking around before being swaddled in a blanket. The mother beamed happily, laughing as she held her baby to her naked chest.
“She’s beautiful, Francesca,” smiled the midwife. “You’ve done well, my child.”
“What’s her name, Sister?” asked one of the attendants.
“Gisella,” the mother sniffled, unable to stop her happy tears. “Her name is Gisella.”
Francesca kissed her daughter’s forehead, not bothered by her small claws or dark red eyes. San knew once the child grew, the human features would start appearing. He wondered if any child you two had would be the same. His heart fluttered imagining you in her position, holding his child and crying tears of joy. It was unlikely you’d want children or a family, since you never showed interest in having them, but he knew you at least liked babies. You smiled whenever you saw one in the street, and some friends of yours had them. The dream of you carrying his children, being a mother to them would be a dream.
“Choi,” Hector called to him from the birthing bed, “Come see her.”
In timid steps, San approached them. The stench of blood grew thicker, but the sight of the newest Antichrist took his attention away. The baby had His Majesty’s sharp nose and round eyes, but her mother’s lips and chin.
“Congratulations,” San said kindly.
“Thank you,” she smiled, immediately looking back at her baby.
“His Majesty must be informed at once,” the priest said.
“I’ll have one of my men go inform him…” Hector said, but San tuned him out right away.
An unnatural breeze blew in from the nearby tunnel entrance. His entire body moved into action. In an instant, a figure in bright gold armor appeared from thin air, raising their longsword to slash at San. He blocked it with his own sword, then swiped at them. The angel, with their large feather wings, lifted into the air and more of them appeared. Then, the battle began. San and Hector stood by the table while their fellows fought off those at the entrances. The angel who’d attacked San came at him again, but a swing of his sword to the midriff and then to the back of their wings wounded the celestial being. San then blocked another angel’s sword, kicking them right in the chest and stabbing them in the gut. All the adrenaline he’d held back came at him full force. It fueled his fast, precise movements, causing his heart to pound in his ears and made him hyper aware of his surroundings.
“Beat them back!” ordered Hector, who blocked an angel’s sword. “Protect the babe!”
He could not fail. If the angels managed to get their hands on the baby, they’d never see her again. One angel flew and landed on top of the table, reaching for Gisella, but a slice at the back of their ankles crippled them. San then stabbed them right in the neck, blood spurting from the wound and the angel clutched their neck as they fell. He had no time to observe.
“Can you stand?” he asked Francesca, who shook her head.
“Take her,” the young woman cried, handing Gisella to him. “Please, take her.”
“Take the baby and get out, Choi,” Hector ordered.
He gently took the baby from Francesca, and held it close to him. Due to all the noise and commotion stimulating her senses, little Gisella’s shrieks nearly blew out his ears. San, unable to use one arm, swung his sword at any enemy he came across through the tunnels. The portal back home was on the other side of the church, underneath the Vatican streets. Urgency pushed him forward, and panic had him holding the child close to his chest. He moved through the caverns until he reached a large room where seven demonic statues stood facing the center. Yet, right as he reached the very threshold, one of the angels grabbed him by the metal arm guard and spun him away. San lost his grip on Gisella, who floated in the air before being caught by an angel.
“No!” he screamed, scrambling to stand and rush at the man holding Lucifer’s child, but was then countered by another soldier.
The burning heat of a holy blade seared his skin, sinking further into his body. All the air in his went out in a single gasp. His muscles constricted, but he maintained his own strength. As the pain took over, San reached for the dagger on his belt. The handle carved with serpents slithering towards the rose pummel, San sunk his blade into the angel’s exposed neck. Blood poured out from the angel’s mouth and artery, while more bled out from San’s side. The angel fell first, laying flat on their wings as they struggled to stay alive. Demon blades held the same power as holy ones. Falling to the ground, San took deep breaths on the stone ground. Each one burned, and he felt them start to choke him. He grabbed at the wound between his ribs. His vision started to blur and blacken, but he blinked it away. Images suddenly flashed before his eyes.
Hongjoong smirking and winking as he stole a grape from San’s bowl.
Seonghwa smiling widely, a book in his lap and the sun beaming behind him.
The three of them sitting in the lounge, chattering and laughing together.
And you. Wonderful you. Your eyes are bright with happiness as flowers grow all around you. Face down on the floor, the stone scratching his cheeks and arms, he held onto images of the four of you. The sounds of his enemies fleeing with the squealing baby became muddled and inaudible to him. He thought of your laugh, sweet and cheerful. He’d promised to come home. More pain shot through him as the magic took over, sapping more life from him.
“Choi!” he heard a voice say from nearby.
Before, he would’ve been glad to be dying for his king. He’d feel honored to die fighting. Not anymore. Now, he wanted to live. San only groaned, rolling onto his back. He struggled for a breath, clutching onto each one as it may be his last. He told Seonghwa he’d be back in no time. It’d been almost a month. Hands grabbed at him, and he left the ground.
He told Hongjoong not to worry; that he’d been in tons of battles before.
He told you he’d be fine. He said he’d be home before you knew it.
Promises he’s unable to keep. San clung on to every breath, feeling the pain it brought and the hollowness of his chest. The sudden nothingness of the portal sucked more precious life from him. He heard voices all around him. Bright lights burned his eyes. Where were you? He wanted to see you. He wanted to see his brothers. Several hands laid him on a firm surface, and small wheels could be heard underneath him.
“You’re going to be alright, son,” he heard Hector’s voice. “You’re going to be alright.”
His Darling, who brought so much comfort to him. He’d never known real comfort until he ended up in Hell. The couple he’d been given to gave him the bare minimum. The witch, Hyeon, and her servant, Heechul, took him in as a baby and never told him about his true identity. He’d only learned what a family was when his brothers took him into their home.
Darkness came over him the moment the cart stopped. He forced himself to stay awake, despite the blood filling his lungs to choke him. San wanted to see you. He needed to see you one last time.
“YN…”
****
“Wake up, you stupid boy!”
The world came to him in a blur. He blinked back the rays of sun peeking in between the cracks in the curtains. Outside his doorway, he heard the other tenants starting to rise from their corners of the shared room. The stench of sweat, illness and filth sunk right into his nose at the first breath; he coughed it out as he did every morning.
“I said ‘get up’!”
A swift kick to his ribs took the breath from his chest. San curled inwards on the thin mattress, groaning as the pain subsided into a dull ache. Kicks to the stomach hurt more without any fat protecting it. Immediately, the boy stood up from his bed on heavy legs. Ahead of him, a skinny woman with messy black hair in a bun walked away from him to a rickety dresser. He watched her start slipping into a ragged chemise and stockings. In a corner of their small area, a man in rags sat passed out against the wall. The dark bottle beside him told San he'd drunk too much gin again. He recalled Hyeon and Heechul’s argument last night, and the latter likely drowned his sorrows in the drink. The yellowish puddle around him made San’s stomach churn.
“Daniel!” Hyeon screeched from her cot, using his English name.
“I’m up.”
He picked up the gin bottle from Heechul, and finished it off. The pure liquor stung his throat, but relieved his thirst and woke him up right away. All around him, he heard people starting to rise from their beds to begin their day. He saw Mrs. Cimorelli pulling on the top layer of her dress. His eyes scanned over her slim figure, taking in her soft curls and olive skin. A shudder went through him when he recalled a few nights previous, when he’d offered her his last bit of coin for a suck. His age, fifteen, didn’t matter to a whore like her. San snapped back into reality when a sharp hand hit the back of his head. This caused Mrs. Cimorelli to turn her head. It took her a moment, but she smirked when she realized he’d been watching her.
“Filthy lout,” Hyeon scoffed, pulling on her worn out boots. “You’re going to catch a pox one day, boy. You mark my words.”
“Ah, shut up, you ol’ cow,” he snapped back, rubbing where she’d hit him.
“You're lucky I got work, or you'll get more than a clout on the ear. You get yourself right and get going. The overseer will deduct your wages if you’re late.”
San glared at her. He'd grown used to it since arriving in New York. Whenever she started barking about work, he thought of telling Hyeon they’d do better starving back home than starving in a new country. Though, she’d quickly retort with, “There aren’t any jobs at home.” He’d then tell her fortune tellers and mediums did just as well in Korea as they did in New York.
When Hyeon turned her back, San quickly snatched the lump of bread she had hidden under her blanket. Taking a bite of the hard lump, he glanced back at Mrs. Cimorelli as he passed her. Her small wink and smile warmed his blood. If he made enough, he’d give her another go if he caught her on the street that night. San walked past the other tenants in the small apartment space, nodding to those he knew and turning from those he didn’t and walked outside. In the stairwell, he heard the hustle of the morning crowds. He heard and smelled everything around him. He heard babies crying behind closed doors; he caught Mr. And Mrs. Wang arguing about Mr. Wang’s drinking again; he saw Daisy, Irene, and Sarah walking up the stairs from their night on the streets.
“Morning, Handsome,” Daisy, straight black hair in a messy braid and dress slightly askew, smiled at him. “We missed you last night.”
“Sorry ladies, I had places to be,” he said apologetically as he walked down past them.
“Will you be out tonight?” asked Irene, a red blotch starting to bruise on her peachy skin. “You know I always save space for you.”
“If the boss lets me,” he winked, walking down the steps to the next floor.
The best thing about New York? The girls. Back home, girls shared the conservative, modest views of their parents. The women in the brothels looked tempting, but they didn’t service teens. The ladies he’d met in America did him as long as he had enough money.
Coming out into the street, San took in the sights and smells of New York’s Chinatown. It wasn’t strictly speaking only Chinese people. A melting pot of different ethnicities and races lived in the small community, working and surviving off meager wages. Those with a bit more sand did jobs for the gangs around the city. When he first arrived, San got a job at the textile factory working the looms. It was a dangerous job for a skinny boy who barely spoke English, but it was better than the street. Of course, any money he made went directly to Hyeon, who claimed to spend it on ‘keeping them above ground’. Heechul worked in the fish market, coming home stinking of fish guts and stagnant water every day, while Hyeon was a seamstress who told fortunes on the side. It was when he beat down two thugs trying to rob him that he caught the attention of crime boss Lee “Benny” Siwon. Siwon led the gang known as the Black Lotus, a gang known for smuggling, theft, and drugs. He offered San a place in his gang.
San had been working for him ever since.
Making a right turn down an alley, he passed through a market street where vendors peddled their wares. His stomach growled seeing the fruits and vegetables being left out. He bypassed a fruit vendor, and with a deft hand, took up the topmost apple in the pile. The vendor never noticed. Nobody noticed. He waited until he’d gotten a good distance before he sunk his teeth into it. The sweet juice filling his mouth pushed back the constant seed of hunger. San could never take food home, otherwise Hyeon split it and gave him the small pieces. One might think a new country with better opportunities would make the old witch turn over a new leaf. It’d done nothing.
San finally reached a small restaurant nestled between a butcher’s shop and a chemist. The black lotus sign hanging above the door told people who ran these streets. He walked in with a small smile, seeing people already at tables and servers taking orders. The boys sitting at a nearby table took notice of him first, all of them smiling and greeting him. He shook hands, and took the shot of gin that they offered. As the boys went back to talking about their various runs, San lit a cigarette and took his first puff of the day. Any minute now, Siwon will send one of his thugs to give them various jobs for the day. Everything from passing on messages, picking up or dropping off products to theft and beating people up could be assigned to any of them. San hoped he’d be sent on one of the more important jobs for once. Things like stealing from rival gangs, picking up money from extorted business owners, or roughing up people who owed money paid much more. Siwon promised he’d give him a chance one day, but ‘one day’ is too far away.
“Hey boys,” a tall man with square shoulders and an oval face approached them. In his tailored pin-strip suit, he looked like any ordinary gentleman.
“Shoiming!” the boys cheered, clasping hands with the older man.
“I got your jobs right here,” he said, holding up a few papers. "You know your streets. You know your marks,” he began passing items to certain boys, “Get the job done fast, you get paid even faster.”
Shoiming handed everyone a slip, and San looked at his. From the scrawled handwriting, he saw mostly pick ups and drop offs. He sucked his teeth. Pennies again. He supposed low wages were better than none. He stood up from the table, holding his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, as he tucked the paper into his pocket. It was then that Shoiming stopped him by the shoulder. For a split second, San thought he’d get a scolding for his reaction, but the large man didn’t seem angry.
“Do your work quickly,” he said, “Siwon has a big job for you tonight.”
San walked with a pep in his step the rest of the day. While Hyeon thought he was at the factory, he was really jumping from place to place. He handed off packages and messages that couldn’t be sent through official channels. He bought and sold the items given to him by various vendors. San even took time to go into the fancy part of town where he picked pockets. He’d gotten away with a decent loot: a gold pocket watch, a few coins, three rings he lifted from a shop, and a snuff box he stole from a fancy lady. Siwon will be so impressed, he’ll take him on the big jobs. By nightfall, San felt nervous and excited. He came back to the restaurant with his loot and messages.
“Good haul,” nodded Shioming. He took the pocket watch, two rings and the snuff box. “Siwon’s not here. He told me to tell you to meet him at Flannery’s Hall. It’s on King’s street, not too far from here.”
“What’s that? Some kind of club?”
“Yes, now hit the bricks. Don’t be late.”
He left right away, going down all the alleys and side streets until he reached King’s street. The nightlife started buzzing to life around him. New York never slept, he’d come to learn during his time there. Back home, everything grew quiet once the work day ended. That wasn’t the case in this new country. Life kept going even as the moon reached high into the sky. He liked that. He never grew bored or anxious in the hustle of the city. Walking down a row of clubs and bars, San stopped outside the one with the sign ‘Flannery’s Hall’ written on it. He only stopped because his stomach twisted tightly. A pair of women’s boots hung on the newel post leading down into the building’s basement. San tried not thinking anything of it as he walked through the doors.
Once inside, a new world unfolded in front of him. In the small bar, he saw men sitting and drinking at tables with pretty girls. Except, most of the ‘pretty girls’ weren’t girls at all. They were boys in girls’ clothes and wigs who’d powdered their faces. In various stages of dress, they moved about the room to their marks while one “girl” sang up on a stage in a falsetto voice. San’s insides told him to run, but he knew better. Siwon didn’t like people who didn’t follow orders. He walked up to the bar where a young man stood handing out mugs of beer.
“Excuse me,” he said to the man, “I’m looking for Siwon. My boss said he’d be here.”
“Nah, I ain’t seen him,” the barman replied.
A lie. He likely didn’t trust San. Most white people didn’t. He huffed and turned to the room. San tried not noticing the boys around him. He found them to be beautiful in and out of their dresses. He supposed them dressing as girls made it easier for their customers to stomach their desires. San preferred boys who looked like boys and girls who looked like girls. Of course, he kept that bit to himself. If Hyeon knew, she’d kick him out for sure. She’d rather he be stealing than selling himself to old men.
“I know where Benny is,” someone said to him.
In a very short night dress and stockings, there was nothing hiding the fact that they were a boy. Blond hair cropped short, he wore a thin robe that barely hid the naked flesh exposed underneath. He sat on the bar stool next to San, light blue eyes sultry and flirtatious, and leaned closer.
“I can take you to him.”
“What’s it going to cost me?”
“For you? Not a dime. I’m Lucy,” he said, “Benny and I are pretty close. I can get you in with him.”
“He asked me to come,” San said.
Lucy paused, his seductive stare breaking for a brief moment, “Huh, alright. Come with me, handsome.”
Lucy walked him through the bar’s main floor and up the stairs. He tried ignoring the workers servicing their clients or sitting in their rooms waiting for the next one. San enjoyed a good brothel, but something about Flannery’s Hall disgusted him. Not the boys or the girls, but the clientele. Old, wrinkled men who want things that real girls would not do. He saw one man in just his trousers come out of a room holding his shirt. Even after being with the person inside, he still sized San up with hungry eyes. He nearly vomited before moving onwards. Lucy led him to a series of rooms on the third floor. These rooms weren’t much quieter either. His body grew numb. He regretted coming here.
“Do you know what he wants?” he asked Lucy, keeping the nerves out of his voice.
“What every man that comes here wants.” He brought San to the last room and turned around, “Just relax. It’ll be over a lot quicker than you think.”
He blew San a kiss, and walked away. San could run. He could turn tail back home and pretend he’d gotten lost. He can say he got picked up by cops. But, he knew Siwon. The old man would see right through him. It wouldn’t be his first time with a man, but those had been different. He didn’t do it for money or by force then. San turned the knob, took a deep breath, and went inside.
“-And I told him, ‘Sure you can have it, but let me tell you, this snuff bites back!’”
Siwon sat in a well furnished room with a group of other well-dressed men. He stayed frozen by the door, counting down the seconds before someone saw the young, good-looking boy in the doorway. Siwon lifted his head first, gleeful and sucking on the end of a cigar, and smiled at San.
“San! There you are!” He stood up and walked over to him, patting his shoulder. “I worried you might’ve gotten picked up.”
“I ain’t a whore,” San heard himself say defiantly. “I ain’t sucking anything I don’t want to suck.”
Siwon appeared stunned by his words. “What?” he said in disbelief, but then it came to him and he laughed. “No, no, Sannie. You don’t have to worry about that. That’s not why I called you here.”
“It’s not?”
“Hell no,” he said. “You’re a good looking kid, San, but my girls have to be delicate and pretty. You’re too rough for that kind of work. Nah, I got a better job for you.” He put his arm around his shoulders and brought him closer to the men, “You see these men?”
San nodded, and he immediately noticed their fine suits, pocket watches and shiny shoes.
“They’re some friends of mine from uptown,” Siwon continued. “I told them I’d show them a good time while they’re visiting our little corner of New York. Now, I got the ladies and the booze, but we need the entertainment. That’s where you come in.”
“I ain’t following, Siwon.”
“This,” he gestured to another boy on the other side of the room, “Is Tiny.”
Tiny stood much taller than San, with muscular arms, legs and chest. In nothing but a pair of trousers, he might’ve been mistaken for a grown man if the face didn’t give away his age. San saw the faint scars on Tiny’s bronze skin, and the scab on his lower lip. He gulped down his nerves when the truth came out.
“And you’re going to fight him.”
****
“San? San? Can you hear me?”
The voice came to him through a blurry haze. A gentle hand touched his face, and he instantly swatted it away. He pictured Siwon, the old man who’d caused his death, hanging over him with disappointed eyes. He’d lost the fight. Tiny beat him to a bloody pulp and he landed in the hospital. It explained the pain coursing through his body, starting at his torso and radiating across the rest of him. A low groan escaped him as a rough hand cupped his face.
“San, wake up,” a familiar high voice said, not in the usual forceful tone but tender and calm. “Wake up, Sannie.”
“I’m sorry,” he coughed, the breath he took hurting his chest.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” they said. “We’re just glad you’re home.”
“San,” a female voice spoke to him. Hyeon? No, not Hyeon. Someone whose voice calmed every nerve in his body. The other person moved away as the woman came closer. “It’s me,” she said, “It’s YN.”
Opening his eyes at last, he saw you next to his hospital bed. Your eyes, puffy and red, stared at him worryingly. The girls in New York looked nothing like you. They had bruises or scratches from rough customers, and they carried that New York bred toughness about them. You had sand, but softness too. If he’d met you then, he would’ve tried keeping it straight and narrow. He’d get an honest job and marry you. That’s what couples did back then; they got married. But then, he wouldn’t know who and what he was.
“YN…” your name left him in a hoarse croak.
“Yeah, it’s me,” you sniffed. “We’ve been so worried about you.”
“I’m okay,” he said unconvincingly.
“You got stabbed in the lung and started choking on your own blood,” said Seonghwa. “You aren’t okay.”
“What?”
Then the truth came to him. The birth. The angels. The baby. “Where’s Gisella?” he asked, panicking. “Did we get her back?”
“Gisella?”
“He means the baby,” Seonghwa told you. “They lost her,” he answered San’s question. “The angels got away before we could get her back.”
He’d failed. Once again, he’d let somebody down. “What happened after?”
“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said. “You stay here and rest.”
“What happened?” he asked more forcefully.
“They brought you here,” Hongjoong answered. “Hector told Lucifer they’d taken the baby, and, well, losing a kid isn’t great news.”
“You’re lucky he doesn’t blame you,” Seonghwa said. “The guy’s lost so many Antichrists that he isn’t surprised when the angels take them away.” He paused, looking down at his younger brother. “Let’s give San some breathing room. We’ll come back later, Brother.”
A pair of lips touched his forehead, and another hand ruffled his hair. San reached out for you, grabbing your sweater. “Stay,” he said, though felt himself dozing off again, “Don’t go.”
“I’ll stay here.”
“Until they kick you out,” noted Hongjoong.
San heard footsteps cross the linoleum floors and a door softly close. The scent of oranges caught in his nose, and he inhaled it until his lungs hurt. Your fingers pushed hair from his forehead, giving him a way to catch your hand.
“I thought you’d died,” you said in a whisper, afraid to break the quietness of the room. “When you didn’t come home after a week, I thought something happened to you.”
“The birth took longer than expected.”
“It made me think of what it’d be like without you,” he heard your tears thicken your voice. “I don’t like it.”
“I wouldn’t prefer it either.”
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” you said, sniffling. “You hear me?”
“I’ll try.” He felt you rest your head on the bed, still staring at him with watery eyes. San hated seeing his Darling cry. “Please don’t,” he said. “I’ll be okay now, Darling.”
“I can’t help it.”
He cupped your cheek and wiped a stray tear. Whatever painkiller they’d given him slowly took over again. He didn’t let go of you, worried about where he might end up.
“Just sleep, Sannie,” you said, kissing his inner wrist. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
****
He should be in pain. The bones Tiny broke with bloody fists should be cracked and poking through his skin. Blood should be dripping from the broken teeth and cut cheeks onto the floor. His jaw, his arms, and shoulders suffered so much pain that they must be in pain. Yet, when he opened his eyes, he felt barely anything. Only a dull stiffness in his muscles remained. A soft groan pulled itself from his chest, which did not feel broken or torn apart. He forced himself to open his eyes, but immediately regretted it.
“Welcome,” a man’s voice said from nearby. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew. “Name?”
“Huh?”
“Your name, son. What is your name?”
“Daniel,” he answered with his English name.
“Your true born name, please.”
“San.”
“Surname?”
“Choi.”
He blinked the pain from his eyes, and took in his surroundings. He found himself on a cold, hard floor. Looking around, he saw empty chairs in a carpeted room. When he glanced upward, he saw a man in a purple suit standing behind a window like a bank teller. Except, this wasn’t a bank.
“Choi San, Choi San, Choi San,” the suited man looked through a thick, leather bound book. “Date of birth?”
“July 10th, 1910.”
He sensed the man’s silence when he finally stood on his stiff legs. The man, dark skinned with tight black curls, looked at him in astonishment. All the breath came out of him at once, and he fixed up his suit jacket.
“My-My Lord,” he said, “Forgive me. We weren’t expecting you so early. You had four more years until you came of age. This is, I’m sorry to say, quite irregular for us.”
“What’re you talking about?” he asked, confused. He touched his lip where Tiny slammed his fist last, and felt the split skin. “Where am I?”
“You’re home, sir,” he answered. “I am Charon, ferryman of souls.”
“Okay, and what’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you’re in Hell, my lord.”
San’s eyes widened, and his heart jumped into his throat. “I’m where?”
“In Hell,” he repeated. “Since you are a demon, you came to my station instead of the forest.”
“Look,” he walked up to the window, “I know I wasn’t the best kind of kid, but I couldn’t have been that-” then he stopped. “Wait, what did you say?”
“I said that since you are a demon-”
“-What? I ain’t a demon.”
“Yes, you are. Look for yourself.”
Charon turned the book around to show San a list of names scrawled in black ink. He pointed to San’s name, “Choi San, birth date July 10th, 1910. Mother: Kim Youngmi. Father: Asmodeus, Prince of Lust and Lord of Depravity. You’re a Duke of Lust, my lord.” He paused, “Did you…Did you not know that?”
San stared at the names. That couldn’t be right. Hyeon and Heechul were his parents. As terrible as they were, they’d tolerated him enough to feed and house him. Hyeon always told him she’d given birth to him in their house in Korea. Heechul claimed to have delivered San on his own. No Youngmi or Asmodeus came looking for him.
“I can’t be. I just can’t.”
“But you are,” he closed the book, “You’re a very important person down here, my lord.”
“I ain’t a ‘lord’.”
“Yes, you are. Come with me. The ferry for Depravity hasn’t left yet.”
Charon walked out from behind the window and walked him to the front door. He led San out into what reminded him of the ferry back in New York. Thousands of people moved in straight lines towards the different colored ferries. A melancholic, dreadful feeling carried through the air. San thought he’d stepped into the most miserable place he’d ever been. He followed Charon down a flight of stairs opposite the one leading down to the crowds. By the ropes separating this line from the others, San guessed he’d gotten special treatment. Charon led him past the flowing black river, the crowds thinning the further they walked from the main ferries.
“Are all those people demons too?” he asked.
“No, these are reluctant sinners or those who received no baptism or funeral rites,” he said. “They’re taken across the river to Inferno’s port where they’re shepherded to Limbo. That’s where the sin seers figure out where to put them. Don’t fret, my lord. You’re not going to Limbo.”
“Where am I going?”
“Home.”
“Home?”
“The Lands of Depravity, located several circles above the circle of lust,” he said. “Your older brothers will explain more.”
“Brothers?” San gulped, “I have brothers.”
“You didn’t know that either? Whoof, whoever raised you certainly did you no favors,” he huffed.
Charon led him to a smaller dark green ferry. At the bottom of the ramp leading onto it stood a soldier in bronze armor. Charon approached with a self-important smugness.
Charon turned to him. “Here’s your ferry and your ticket,” he handed San a ticket from his inner pocket. “Hand it to the guard, and he’ll let you on board. It’s a short trip, but there’s plenty of food and drink there.”
“Thanks,” San said, reading the white ticket.
“You’re welcome, and I hope you enjoy your new home.”
San nodded as Charon left his side. Anxiously, he walked up to the guard.
“Ticket, please,” he said. When San handed it to him, he checked and then stamped an approval. “Welcome to Hell, my lord.”
“Thanks.”
San took careful steps up the ramp. It reminded him of the ferries back in New York, except this one didn’t have any people. An attendant in a purple vest and pencil skirt smiled brightly when he walked into the sitting room. She offered him refreshments, but he declined. He might vomit if he digested anything. Sitting on a chair, he kept an eye on his surroundings. He wanted to think he’d entered a sort of coma-induced dream. Right now, he’s really in a hospital bed. Any second, he’ll wake up and it would’ve been a big dream.
He figured out he was wrong once the ferry reached port. The attendant led him to the ramp and gave him the typical customer-service farewell. At the bottom, he spotted dozens of people leaving their own boats to come ashore. He might as well be in New York, coming off a ferry from one part of the city to another. San had no clue where to go from here. Charon gave him no directions, and the attendant told him nothing. Staring around, he saw certain people in suits holding up signs. He spotted a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit holding a card with his name on it.
“Um, hello?” San approached him slowly.
“Choi San?” the man asked with bright eyes.
“That’s me.”
“Oh, wonderful,” he laughed with relief. “I’m Yunho. I work for your brothers. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. We weren’t expecting you for a few more years.”
“Things happen,” he shrugged.
“As they do,” he agreed. “Come with me. I'm going to take you straight home.”
“Where is ‘home’?”
“The Lands of-”
“-Depravity, yeah, the Charon guy told me that. What is home? Who is there?”
Yunho guided him towards the turnstiles, “The Black Keep. Well, it isn’t so ‘black’ anymore, but the name’s endured the centuries. Your brothers, Lords Seonghwa and Hongjoong live there. When they received Charon’s message, they were overjoyed.”
“They don’t even know me.”
“That’s not important. You share a mother and father. Do you understand how rare that is for a demon prince?”
“My dad’s a prince?”
“Yes, Prince Asmodeus. Charon didn’t tell you?”
“He glossed over it.”
“As usual. I suppose it’s excusable since he has a lot on his plate. Things have been heavy for him since Lucifer added more ferry boats…”
He brought San over to a motorcar. Black with white leather seats, San hesitated to get inside. “I ain’t never been in a motorcar before.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
The car ride distracted San from the city around him. He hardly noticed how much it reminded him of the big cities of the world. He held onto the side of the car as it bumped and rode through the streets. Soon enough, they’d left Inferno and ended up in a vast countryside. It looked nothing like what he expected. Evergreen trees lined the rolling hills and fields of tall grass. The sun shone bright in the clear skies. This was “rich people country”, as Hyeon used to say. Street rats like them didn’t live in big houses with lots of land and fresh air. He knew it must be nice, but not like this. Yunho drove up the country lane to a large gold and white gate. Golden serpents slithered down from the bars that resembled flower vines. They opened on their own, letting them drive onto a circular roundabout surrounding a floral bronze fountain.
“I ain’t ever seen a place like this…”
More snake motifs molded into the cream colored walls, with a long balcony above the tall doors. San stayed frozen in the car as he continued taking in the grandeur of the mansion. The people who lived here came from old money, like Siwon used to say. Their home didn’t appear brand new by any means, but it was not decrepit or unkempt. It amazed him. Not even Siwon could afford a place like this. His sleazy uptown buddies would never own a home like this.
“Behold, my lord. The Black Keep.”
“It’s…”
He saw gold roses winding through the rails of the balcony above, and more clinging to the columns holding it up. San felt tears in his eyes. He’d never seen a more beautiful place, and this guy was saying he’d be living here. Impossible. Not even in his wildest dreams could he make up a place like this.
“My lord?” Yunho opened his door without San realizing it. “We’re here.”
“Nah,” he shook his head, “This can’t be it.”
“You’re right. There’s more inside.”
San couldn’t picture the inside. Slowly, he stepped out and onto the gravel driveway. Yunho led him up stone steps to the front doors. More roses.
“They must like roses, huh?” he joked, trying to hide his anxiousness.
“They’re part of the family crest.”
“What’s a crest?”
“Like a little picture representing the family. Seonghwa will explain it should you want to know more.”
Yunho opened the doors and San stepped inside. He’d been right. He could not have dreamed up this place. High ceilings, paneled walls, expensive paintings and drapes with a grand staircase could not be of his own imagination. He gazed up to the ceiling to see a garden mural with a naked woman standing next to a tree holding an apple. He’d never seen a more beautiful painting.
“You’re here!”
No fantasy of his could create them either. At the top of the steps stood two men: one with thick black curls hanging to his chin, and the other with dark red hair slicked back from his face. They weren’t New York boys. They weren’t human. Their beauty surpassed any boy or girl he’d paid for back home.San saw the golden pins on their chests: a snake coiled around a singular rose. The dark-haired one wore a white shirt underneath an emerald velvet and satin vest with a nice tie. The red-head wore a similar fashion, except dark red rather than green. They were beautiful.
“You’re more beautiful than I thought you’d be,” the dark-haired brother grinned, eyeing him from top to bottom. “A bit grubby, but with a bath you’ll sparkle.”
“I don’t mind a bit of grubbiness,” said the redhead, also sizing him up. “I think it adds to his charm.”
The way they undressed him with their eyes didn’t bother him like it might have before. He couldn’t look away from either of them. He’d let them take a piece for free. The dark-haired one snorted with a smirk.
“Naughty,” he said. “I’m Seonghwa.”
“I’m Hongjoong,” said the other brother, still looking down at San's body. “He’s the oldest. I’m the middle child, and you’re the baby.”
“I ain’t a baby.”
“You mean ‘I’m not a baby’,” Seonghwa corrected him.
“But, I imagine you’ve done a lot of things kids your age shouldn’t have been doing,” Hongjoong winked, but stopped when Seonghwa backhanded his arm.
“He’s a child, Hongjoong.”
“You think the people up there care?” he retorted. “They force boys to dress up like girls and fuck them for spare change. They’re a bunch of animals. I bet he walked around with a painted face and gave blowjobs for two dollars-”
“-I ain’t a fucking whore,” San interrupted him harshly.
“It’s ‘I’m not a fucking’-”
“-Correct me again and I’m putting you on the floor,” San cut him off.
Seonghwa laughed rather than cower away. Hongjoong beamed, “Finally, somebody with some fire around here. Are you sure he’s our brother, Seonghwa?”
“Yes, I double checked. It seems he inherited Mother’s tough streak,” he said, amused. It was then that Seonghwa addressed the injuries left on San’s body. He walked up to him, and tried touching his chin before San flinched away. “Who did this to you?”
“A kid named Tiny.”
“What was he? Like four-feet but full of fire?”
“Six-feet with muscles that no kid should have. My boss made me fight him.”
San didn’t want to explain it to them. He still tried wrapping his head around the incident. He always believed Siwon cared about the kids who worked for him. Whenever one of them was mugged or picked up by the cops, Siwon sent men to take care of them. As he thought about it, he realized Siwon didn’t protect them. He protected the product the kid held for him. It saddened him.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Seonghwa said. “Men like him only care about themselves at the end of the day. If he’d treated you like scum, you wouldn’t have worked for him. I’m positive if you’d survived that fight, you’d end up doing it again with someone else.” He brushed his thumb on the split lip, “Nobody is going to hurt you here. Not even if you asked,” he glanced sideways at his brother. “You’re the son of a lord now. Demons around here would be marked for death if they put a finger on you.”
“We’d make sure of it,” reassured Hongjoong.
Their words should comfort him, but the comfort never came. He’d met plenty of adults who made the same promise. Hyeon was supposed to protect him, but she never did. Heelchul was supposed to protect him, but he never did. Siwon, Shoiming, his friends all meant to protect him and they didn’t. He meant nothing to them. He meant nothing to anyone.
“Come on,” Hongjoong touched his shoulder, and frowned when San pulled away. “You’re peaky. Cook will make something for you. What do you like?”
Nobody did things for free. “Nah, I’m fine.”
“You’re not. Let’s go.”
Hongjoong and Seonghwa led him into a fancy dining room. On the table, servants put a large spread of food. Meat, cheese, fruits, and small cakes laid about the table. San’s stomach rumbled. The two of them sat on the other sides of the table, watching him closely. A woman in a maid uniform served him pieces of chicken, potatoes and vegetables. San stared at the plate. It beat the bits of bread and cheese he managed to steal off Hyeon. He picked up one drumstick and bit into it. The juicy meat broke on his teeth, tender and steaming hot. The first bite preceded the next greedy bites. It was so good that San thought he might cry again. Nabbing a bread roll, he wiped up gravy to stuff into his mouth.
“Easy there,” Seonghwa chuckled. “The food isn’t going anywhere.”
“Or are you used to food disappearing before you eat it?” Hongjoong asked with a knowing look. “You aren’t the only person here who’s used to going hungry.”
“How could you get hungry? You live here,” San asked, food in his mouth still.
“I didn’t always live here. Neither did Seonghwa.”
“Did you know who you were?”
“Yes.”
“Wait,” Seonghwa paused, “Did you not know you were a demon?”
“Not until I got here.”
“You mean to tell me that not only did your caregiver treat you poorly, but they never told you who you are?”
“Yes.”
Hongjoong laughed gleefully. “They’re going to get torn apart.”
“Rightfully so. You weren’t supposed to be here so early. You’re still a child.”
“I ain’t a kid.”
“Yes, you are,” said Seonghwa firmly. “Just because you’re not twelve doesn’t mean you’re not still a child.”
“Nobody treated me like one.”
“Because they didn’t care. I care. Hongjoong cares.”
He’d believe it when he saw it.
*****
Nothing beats coming home. Whether from a vacation or a night out, walking through the door into the comfort of familiarity relaxed the mind. San breathed much easier when he finally came home. He smiled seeing his bedroom, neat and tidy as he’d left it, and at the softness of his own bed. Seonghwa told Cook to make his favorite dinner for his homecoming; Hongjoong pulled out the “fancy shit” from their cellar. He appreciated his brothers’ attempts to make the event special, but the person who eclipsed them was you.
“No fair,” frowned Hongjoong when you walked into the dining room, “Nobody said to look hot. Seonghwa just told me to wear my ‘nice shirt’.”
San couldn’t take his eyes off you. In a velvet blue dress, he saw the tantalizing off-the-shoulders and the way the dress slimmed down to your shins. You’d put on the diamond necklace and earrings he’d bought you for your four month anniversary. He stared down your body as you walked to him and kissed his cheek. A single whiff of your expensive perfume had him capturing your lips with his.
“You look divine, Darling,” he grinned, taking in the shade of your lipstick and your upturned lashes. “And all for me?”
“All for you,” you agreed, kissing him once more before taking your seat at the table. “I wanted to look nice for you.”
“Do we really have to eat?” Hongjoong asked Seonghwa. He looked over to you, “She looks better than anything on this table.”
“Back off,” San joked, throwing a piece of his roll at him. “You sleep in your own bed tonight.”
“Oh come on,” he whined, “We missed you too Sannie. I think we should all celebrate you coming back home alive together.”
“We can do that another time,” he laughed at the weak attempt. He took your hand, noticing the ring on your finger. “I want my Darling all to myself tonight.”
“I’m not the one complaining,” you replied, smiling coyly at him.
“First course, please,” Seonghwa told one of the maids, who bowed and went to the kitchen. “This reminds me of his first homecoming.”
“His first homecoming?”
“He’d gone back home for a special assignment,” he said, buttering a bread roll. “On their 18th birthday, a demon is allowed one free kill. They get their choice of prisoner, living or dead, and can torment them however they see fit.”
“I tormented a guard from my reform school,” Hongjoong smirked over his wine. “I put a box of rats on his stomach and-”
“-San,” Seonghwa continued, “Was offered the pass too.”
“You killed someone?” you asked, surprised by it. “Who?”
“Lee Siwon.”
“Who’s that?”
“He was a gang boss who cheated, lied, stole, gambled, raped, and killed. He sold young boys to seedy old men. He forced kids to fight each other until they knocked out or died. He was your classic asshole criminal,” he picked at the soft inside of his roll, “My dad gave me the torment pass as a gift for my birthday. He said it was a right of passage for demons. You can really exercise your powers and spread sin everywhere at the same time. I could only think of one person when he asked me who I’d pick.”
“Was he still alive?”
“Surprisingly,” he nodded. “I figured he’d still be in the same city, extorting the same families and fucking the same kids. I got my pass and went home.”
“And he saw you?”
“No,” San grinned, recalling his one year back home, “And it drove him insane.”
“How?”
“General ghost stuff at first,” he shrugged. “I would open drawers and cabinets. I’d move stuff around his house and office. I’d make random noises in quiet rooms, open windows, and make radio static during his favorite songs.” He then laughed softly, “Every night at exactly 3:42am I’d turn on his water faucet. Not a steady stream, but enough that he’d hear it dropping. It drove him crazy. Then,” he ate the soft part of his bread, “I revved it up. I’d make him think people stole from him by taking money and hiding it around his businesses. I’d leave messages to make him think people in his gang were conspiring against him. Whenever he went to a drug deal, I’d either take money or damage the goods.” He laughed softly, “He finally spiraled when the market crashed, and he lost everything. Without me, he might’ve been able to survive with the money he’d kept hidden in one of his warehouses.”
“But you happened?”
“A huge fire started in the warehouse and destroyed property and the goods inside. By the time Siwon put the gun to his head, he’d completely lost his mind.”
San pictured his killer: Siwon, his hair streaked with gray, kneeling in his dusty apartment, sobbing as the agony took over. He remembered the man’s luxurious apartment having been stripped of anything valuable. Without a maid, and his wife having left him, Siwon surrounded himself with filth. Stuck in an apartment of trash, no money to his name with only the clothes on his back, Siwon had fallen. By the time San finished with him, nobody feared or respected Lee Siwon. He only revealed himself in those last few minutes, disguised as his fifteen-year-old self. Believing himself to be in a delusion of despair, Siwon didn’t question it when San made him see more children: the ones he forced into prostitution, the ones he put into fighting rings, and the ones he sacrificed on his path to fortune. The visions surrounded Siwon as he put the shotgun in his mouth.
“No talking gore at the table,” said Seonghwa as the first course was served.
“My favorite part was when he came home,” Hongjoong smirked, hardly noticing the soup bowl in front of him. “Seonghwa and I used to peep at him through the holes in his walls. We didn’t want to force him into anything, since we weren’t sure if he liked boys. Imagine our delight when Sannie walked into the lounge and,” he held back a laugh, “And told us if we wanted to see him naked, we could have just asked.”
“And then you guys fucked?”
“And then we fucked,” San confirmed, starting to eat the soup. A creamy chicken soup he’d fallen in love with when he first tried it. “What did you do while I was gone?” he then asked, wanting to change the subject.
“What happened between you and Siwon?”
“Huh?”
“You could have picked anyone, but you picked him.”
San’s eyes met Seonghwa’s from across the table. He preferred not to think about how he ended up in Hell in the first place.
“He killed me,” he said. “Well, indirectly. He put me to fight this kid that was twice my size and he beat me to death.”
“You've taken out guys bigger than you though. Jongho and Mingi have told me.”
“I was fifteen, skinny as a twig, and tired from running errands for him,” he answered. The image came to him as he spooned more soup. “If he and his friends wanted to watch a fight, they should have chosen grown men, not kids.”
“That's terrible,” you said. Like he knew you would, you picked up on his reluctance to continue. “I didn't do much.”
“Didn't do much?” Seonghwa said, astounded. “You learned how to make armor and weaponry with just your abilities.”
“You did?”
“It's not perfect. The bark is soft in some spots.”
“It can't be hard everywhere,” San said, “Otherwise you'll have trouble moving around when you're fighting. You can try filling up those weak spots with some kind of soft leather or mossy chainmail or whatever your flowery version would be.”
“What do you wear?”
“Breastplate, shoulder arm and shin guards.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s meant to be a costume as well as actual armor,” he explained, finishing off the small soup. “It’s in an old coliseum, so it has this Roman era theme to it. The armor protects most of the body, but leaves room for mobility. If every inch of me's covered in steel, I can’t move as quickly. The heavy armor would weigh me down because of my weight and-”
“-She’s been learning how to make living things with her plants too,” Seonghwa told him. “She’s managed to make flowers that sparkle like gems.”
“That’s great,” said San with a grin. “What have you made so far?”
You began telling him about what you called “gem stems': a beautiful range of different flowers that glittered and gleamed like gemstones. You’d managed to produce opal, rose quartz and amethyst flowers. Diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, you said, proved a bit more challenging for you, but you’d get it in the end. San found your creativity your most attractive trait. He saw the ensembles you wore, the way you redecorated your bedroom, and the plants you grew in your greenhouse. Everything you made turned out vibrant and beautiful. Seonghwa’s experiments might have had various shades of purple and red, but yours popped. He thought of the yellow-mouth flowers you’d made variations of in your greenhouse. Instead of only yellow, you had purple, pink, and orange-red ones. Octavius’s offspring came in hybrid forms now. Rather the purple hibiscus shapes, you’d merged them with sunflowers, roses, and tulips. Even the more dangerous flowers, who you called ‘Spike’ and ‘Rex’, bore interesting personalities and colors.
San wondered, as the conversation switched, about Francesca. He hoped Lucifer hadn’t harmed her. She’d already been in so much physical and emotional pain. Not only had she just given birth, but she’d lost her child. He’d thought someone might tell him what happened to her, but nobody breathed a word. The mother of Lucifer’s halfling children never seemed to matter to anyone. She was simply a vessel for the child who’d one day destroy the world.
He looked over at you, cutting into the steak dinner Cook prepared, and felt grateful. Demons could breed with other demons. Demons could not breed with humans, aside from Lucifer, the King of Demons. Demons and cambions did not typically reproduce because most demons considered cambions closer to humans. When he first entered you, he quickly thought about how you’d never have his children. He’d never met a woman he wanted to “mate” with until you. Knowing you better now, and knowing your status, it was possible. Not certain. It’d be difficult and there’d be many failed attempts, but not impossible.
But, what kind of father could he be if he’s unable to protect them? He’d been trusted to protect His Majesty’s child, and he could not do that. He’d failed in keeping the child safe. It’d likely been purified and turned into an angel by now. What if the same thing happened to you and he’d failed again? The image of you in Francesca’s place, laying flat on your back with blood pooling around your thighs and legs came to him. Some women died in childbirth. His mother claimed she’d nearly died giving birth to her last child, who’d come out deformed and sickly before passing a week later. He didn’t want that to happen to you. He didn’t know what cambion-demon pregnancies were like, but it could not be that different from normal ones.
“San?” your voice broke through his thoughts, and he saw you looking at him with concern. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Darling,” he said, pushing pictures of you lifeless and bloody from his mind.
You didn’t believe him. He saw your worry even as you went back to eating. San tried keeping up the charade by eating his own dinner. The meal ended with a variety of tarts San enjoyed. He devoured the peach tarts, while you’d dove into the strawberry tarts. Your appetite never ceased to amaze him. You told him in your past life, you’d waste time going on fad-diets to keep yourself from gaining more weight. Now, in a world where that doesn’t matter, you indulged more than you used to. Cook’s excellent skills made everything you tasted mouthwatering. San didn’t mind at all. He loved a woman who ate well; particularly the luscious curves that might result from proper appetite.
“I’m heading to bed,” you said once dinner ended, kissing each brother but lingering on his lips the longest. “This dress is nice, but not sleepwear. Right, San?”
“If you give me a few minutes,” he slid his hand down around your thighs to your ass, “I can help you take it off.”
“No, I want to keep it a surprise.”
You kissed him one more time before leaving the dining room. San downed the last of his wine before standing from the table. Seonghwa and Hongjoong instantly gravitated towards each other as they often did when alone. It reminded him of the first time he saw them together, and he shuddered.
“Looks like San is going to get a second dessert tonight,” smirked Hongjoong. Seonghwa cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, “A nice, thick, yummy creampie.”
“Hush,” San laughed, cheeks turning hot. “I won’t be the only one tonight, it seems,” he said, nodding to Seonghwa. “You two have fun.”
“You too,” Hongjoong said, hazy from his tipsy state and Seonghwa’s full lips on his neck.
He walked out of the dining room to his bedroom. Sadly, he envisioned a child in the hallway. A beautiful girl with your eyes and hair, giggling and skipping joyfully. Perhaps a boy with his nose and jawline, playing with a wooden sword and pretending to cut down imaginary foes. San wanted to say you’d both be good parents, but could you really be? Andromeda was the kindest demon he’d ever met, who’d loved you with all her heart. You had some idea of how to be a loving mother, should you want to be one. But he didn’t grow up with such love and attention. Hyeon and Heechul despised him, and did nothing to hide it. He’d been another burden for them to bear. He never felt a mother’s warm hug and kiss or a father’s arm around his shoulders or patting his back. No fun holidays together. No cozy nights. Nobody comforted him when he cried or had a bad dream.
He didn’t have any of that until Seonghwa. Hongjoong might’ve been more of a sibling figure, but Seonghwa took on the parental role. He made sure San got a good education, that he ate well, bathed and tried making him the gentleman Hongjoong refused to be. He’d hated it at first because he saw it as a force to change. But, he soon learned Seonghwa didn’t want to change him, he wanted to help him. If San should imagine any father figure, it should be his oldest brother.
San walked into his apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as he headed straight to bed. He pictured you, him and your child having come back from a family night out. You’d be in one of your lovely dresses, and he’d be wearing a suit and tie. Your kid would be put to bed first, wrapped up in soft pajamas and falling asleep as one of you read to him. Then, you’d both be alone. As he removed his jacket and unbuttoned his tie, the idea of domesticity between you both appeared to only sadden him. What if someone tried harming one of you, and he failed to protect you? What if he wasn’t quick enough? Strong enough? Brave enough? If he’d moved faster, he might have saved little Gisella. Lucifer would be delighted for another antichrist; lovely Francesca would be rocking the baby to sleep right now. But because of him and his hesitation, that had been shattered.
“This room hasn’t felt the same without you.”
San, unbuckling his pants, turned to see you leaning against the doorframe. You wore a lace night dress, a slit through the middle to reveal the matching underwear underneath. Your beauty usually distracts him from any thought in his mind, but not tonight. All he saw when he looked at you was Francesca and the baby he didn’t save.
“Has it?” he asked, knowing he had to say something to keep you from suspecting anything other than pure lust.
“It was empty,” you sauntered over to him, running your hands down his back and around his waist when he turned away. “And the bed was always cold.”
He felt your warm lips dot kisses on his shoulders, and your hands replaced his at his front. With deft hands, you undid his belt and fly, then lightly pulled at them until they pooled at his feet. In the mirror, he saw you clinging to him. He touched one of the hands on his chest, feeling the softness of your fingers and palms. Your fingers then intertwined. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, the temptress dropping in favor of the sweetness.
“Nothing,” he assured you.
“Liar,” you said, lips on his skin. “What happened up there? Who’s Gisella?”
“What?” He never recalled mentioning neither mother nor child to anyone.
“You said her name in your sleep,” you replied. You didn’t sound jealous. You sounded comforting, “Was that the baby’s name?”
“Yes,” he said, preferring not to lie to you.
“What happened to her?”
“She was taken. I…I didn’t get her back in time.”
“What do angels do with demon babies? They don’t…” you hesitated, then said, “They don’t kill them, do they?”
“No, they purify them,” he said. “They use their holy magic to sap out the demonic energy in their blood, and turn them into another angel. To Lucifer, that’s as good as death, but it’s more favorable than true death.” He stared at himself in the mirror. Even with all his muscles, speed and skill, he couldn’t protect the most important being in demonic history. “I’d nearly gotten her out. I was right there, YN. I was right at the exit into Hell, and they caught up to me. I…I tried fighting them off, and I did for a bit but then one of them caught me and she…” his chest tightened remembering the moment she slipped from his arms. “They caught her before I could. One of them stabbed me through my armor. I managed to stab my knife into their neck, but not in time to save her. They’d escaped through their own portal. I failed, YN. I was given one job. I had one job to do and I failed.”
“Just because you failed once doesn’t make you a failure. You did all you could-”
“-I have fought angels twice my size. I have fought against humans, demons, angels, archangels, cambions, and all the rest. I should have succeeded-”
“-You’re not always going to win,” you assured him, putting yourself between him and the mirror. “From what Seonghwa told me, the likelihood you would lose the kid was fifty-fifty. You might get the child away or you might not. It isn’t an indication of your skill or abilities.” You rubbed his arms comfortingly. While you have bite and bark, you also carried a gentleness he rarely experienced.
“I watched the birth happen,” he explained, “And the mother. She was so young, but carrying this big responsibility. I saw the pain in her eyes when she handed her baby over to me. She’d hoped I might be able to take her to safety, and I didn’t do that. The child she bore for weeks was gone, and she’d never see them again and it’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not,” you said bracingly. “She must’ve known what she was getting into when she agreed to get pregnant. Seonghwa told me all about it. He says every few years a woman is chosen to have his kid, and she has to consent before it happens. This woman knew there was a chance she’d lose them one way or another. Now, is it nice that it ended up happening? No. The kid getting taken is not your fault.”
“It is.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It is.”
“No, it isn’t,” you said more firmly. “You did the best you could.”
“I should’ve done better.”
“Stop that,” you cut him off. “Everyone always says what a great swordsman you are, but you’re not going to win every battle-”
“-What if that happens to you?” he said. He cupped your cheeks and looked into your eyes. Their shape and color had been his last thought before he slipped into unconsciousness. “What if something happens to you and you die because I wasn’t fast enough to act? What if we have a kid and they get hurt or die because I didn’t try hard enough? YN, you are the one person who matters most to me. I don’t want to lose you-”
“-Is there something that makes you think you will?” you said, touching the hand on your cheek. “I do have a shadow demon for a bodyguard, and Jongho and Yeosang aren’t weaklings either. There’s also two other demons who’d protect me just as much as you would. What makes you think something might happen to me?”
“The fear of losing something that makes me happy,” he said. “When I was growing up, nice things always got taken away. When I made some money, the witch took it from me. If I got a bit of food, she’d snatch it and give me the smaller piece. If I showed any sign of happiness, it disappeared somehow. I love you, YN,” he said, “And I don’t want anyone to take you from me.”
“Nobody is going to,” you assured him, kissing him lightly. “I’m not exactly defenseless either, you know,” you gave a small grin.
You extended your hand, and several thin vines extended from your hands and around his wrist. San hissed when the vines tightened around his arm, squeezing him until his arm seized up. As that happened, you flicked your other hand and out shot a spiked, magenta dart that lodged itself to the wall. San watched the barb start spreading a sizzling, black goo that burned a hole right through the stone.
“Where did you learn that?” he asked, impressed by the snake vines slithering back into your palm and the acid dart dropping to the floor.
“My Aunt Rhea,” you shrugged. “She’s been giving me self-defense classes. She says ladies need to know how to protect themselves from man-things. Gaia is the one who teaches me how to create and grow the flowers I work with now.”
“Your mother?”
He noticed your sad expression, “How to live again.” You held the hand you’d cut the circulation from, rubbing it gently, “How to feel whole and happy.”
“Were you not before?”
“Not truly,” you said. “I filled my life with meaningless, temporary happiness. I thought having lots of nice things and sleeping with good looking people made life worth it. But, now I realize how empty I’d always felt then. I never felt complete,” you brushed yourself up against him, “Until I met you and your brothers. I love you more than anything else, and not just because the sex is amazing.” The both of you shared a laugh, “I don’t want to lose any of you. I might have owned nice things, but the people I chose to share myself with didn’t stay long. I don’t want you to get bored of me and throw me out or trade me in for something better-”
“-There is no one better,” he reassured you. “No one.”
He stepped out of his pants, kicking them away as he cupped your bottom. This prompted you to leap into his arms, wrapping yourself around him tightly. He turned to the bed, where he laid you down gently before landing on top of you. Once your bodies met, his lips opened yours in soft caresses. The intoxicating natural drug in your mouth mingled with his own, and that familiar burning desire ignited between you. Usually, this sensation took him down a rabbit hole of overwhelming lust. Tonight, it didn’t seem to do that. This time, he felt nothing but tenderness as he slowly grinded himself into you. He wanted you, but not in the sexual, primal way. San didn’t want to fuck you until the sun came up. He didn’t want to ‘take you’ like an animal in heat. He wished to melt with you. After witnessing so much violence and blood, he wished every vein and muscle in his body sunk inside yours to make you one body.
‘You are the sun and I am the moon. Without your light, I am nothing.”
A quote Seonghwa read in a poem came to him as his hands slipped off the straps of your dress. Seonghwa was better with words. He grew up with poetry and literature while San could never get a grasp on it. He often forgot names of poets or authors or playwrights, but he understood their words. He felt them. This quote bundled everything he felt for you into two sentences. Now that he had you, he would be nothing if you left him.
“San,” you breathed his name between kisses, “Don’t be rough tonight.”
“I don’t plan to be,” he replied, pulling down the top half of your dress. He peppered kisses on your chest as your breasts spilled out of the cups. A nipple in his mouth, he sucked and licked softly. “I want to feel every inch of you.”
He exhaled deeply when your hands slid through his short hair and down his neck to his spine. Your hips slowly rocked against him, your thin underwear dampening between you. He wouldn’t use toys this time. He won’t call you dirty names, choke and slap you. San treated you with all the gentleness of a man holding fine china in his hands. He delicately handled your breasts, giving them gentle squeezes and sucking them until you whimpered. He did not bite them like he sometimes did. San teasingly wagged his tongue over each just to hear your soft gasps. He knew how much you loved having your nipples teased. It’s why they paid so much attention to them during those first few moments in bed.
Your excitement grew when he kissed between them and down to your pubic bone. Kissing along your hips, his arms wrung around your thighs so his hands massaged the inner sides. The mere scent and taste of you aroused him. He started at your knees before moving closer to your center, where you hitched a breath when he reached the very innermost corner. He kissed back up to your waist and to your breasts again. On the base of your throat he asked:
“Would you want one?”
You did not answer right away. You paused, staring at the ceiling. Right when he thought he’d ruined everything, you answered him. “Maybe? I never thought about kids before. I like kids, and babies are cute, but I never considered it. I never met anyone I wanted a family with, since most of them already had families.” Hands in his hair, you looked down at him. “But then, I met you.”
This brought you to his lips, where he kissed you as passionately as before. You both broke apart as if you’d just come up from underwater. You wrapped your legs around him as you kissed his neck. “Give me one,” you whined in his ear, rocking against him again, “Fill me up with one. I’d have one with you any time.”
He strengthened his arousal. His cock hardening against your inner thigh, he groaned as he pushed to your hips. His hands on your breasts, San moaned when a hand slid between you to his groin. He didn’t stop you from pulling him from his boxers to lightly stroke it. The pleasure it brought felt like nothing before. It might as well be the first time you two have touched each other. While he suckled your nipples, you took your time fondling his boner. He could feel your fingertips sliding over the most sensitive parts of his cock; he groaned aroundyour hard nipples whenever you gently squeezed the bulbous head. San knew he was larger than either of his brothers. They liked mentioning it whenever they shared a bed. The only thing that mattered to him was how much you liked it. Pushing into your fist, he thought of all the times you reached out and groped him.
‘I don’t know why. I just love having it in me. It hits the spot each time and makes me cum so much.’
San hooked his hand to the side your panties and slipped himself under them. The both of you shared a moan once his thick head touched your soft lips. He didn’t enter right away. San lifted himself up a bit more to see the two of you nestled together inside your wet panties. Your hands gripped his forearms for stability as you slid yourself up and down his tip and shaft. The sweet nub at the very top, hard and uncovered from its hood, dragged across the slit of his head. He took hold of himself just to move side to side over the sweet spot. You pulled your panties aside to give him a better view of your soaked pussy opening up to his throbbing cock. It made for a beautiful sight. He saw the need for him in your eyes, and he’d usually withhold it. San and the others enjoyed teasing you into madness, but not now. He sunk himself inside the tight entrance that clung to him. It brought a twinge of relief before he pulled out to keep rubbing.
“Don’t stop,” you said, moving your legs further apart to give him more room. “That feels so good,” your eyes fell shut as he sunk back in and pulled out a second time.
“It’s you that feels so good,” he groaned, sliding in and out a few times before withdrawing. He saw how wet you became each time he did it. “It’s your pussy that drives me absolutely insane,” he huffed a laugh, then groaned when he saw you stretched around his shaft. “It’s so tight every time,” he said when he pushed further inside, rolling his hips to get deeper, “It makes me want to breed you whenever we fuck.”
“Then breed me,” you said, head tilting back into the bed and hands gripping his arms tightly. “Cum deep inside until I’m bursting with it.”
Anything for you. Laying on top of you, arms sliding underneath your shoulders to keep you close, San fully plunged inwards. Even though his body begged him to go faster, he continued gradually. His lips found yours, and you each moaned into each other’s mouths. He never felt so close to one person, not even his brothers. Not a single soul alive made him feel the way you do. It was unlike any romance or feeling he had for anyone before. San needed you the way plants need sunlight; the way fish need water and birds need the sky. After what he’s gone through these past few days, he cannot be without you anymore.
Even when you managed to roll him over, you remained connected by a few inches. Arms on either side of his head, you kept kissing as you brought your hips up and down on him. The faint smacking of hips on hips joined your moans and groans. He felt down your back to squeeze your supple cheeks. He didn’t let go, but he didn’t spread or spank them either. He simply held you as you went at your own pace.
“San,” you whispered his name in the midst of your whimpers, “Sannie…”
“YN…” he replied, merely wanting your name to roll off his tongue.
You are the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Just like when he first laid eyes on the Black Keep, it nearly brought him to tears at times. He pushed his hips to yours, feeling his orgasm slowly climbing to the top. Your taut walls grew tighter as his tip hit that squishy piece inside, driving you to rock back and forth. He put one hand to your chin, thumb resting on your lower lip. The feeling of your tongue and lips around the digit made his jaw drop. You put his other hand between you to your clit, where he slowly rubbed it from top to bottom. He made sure you felt the pad of his thumb moving around over the middle.
He came right when you did. Your body stiffening, mouth hung open with his thumb still inside, you kept him buried deep as you shuddered on top of him. He removed his thumb to hear your moans uninterrupted, causing his own to drive further. He felt the distinct hot sensation of his cum shooting inside while yours covered him entirely. You planted yourself on him as his head stayed firmly on your g-spot, bringing overwhelming pleasure before it turned to sensitivity.
San didn’t pull out right away. With a bit of maneuvering, the both of you stayed connected against the pillows. You hugged him close as he continued pushing inside you despite his sensitive cock. More deep, passionate kisses resulted in him remaining hard for another orgasm. San lifted your knees up, curling you upwards to shove in at a different angle. When he broke away to look down, he saw thick white fluids mixing each time he slid outwards. This encouraged him to keep his strokes short and deep so nothing spilled too far out. He can’t breed you if he lets it seep onto the bed. That’s awfully wasteful.
“Fill me up with more,” you said, hands tugging at his scalp. “Please, San. Please.”
“As much as I can give you, baby.”
He did. He came inside until he felt empty. You enjoyed this part particularly because his orgasms also brought out yours. By the time he felt spent, he still did not pull out. Holding you to his chest, he brought the covers over the both of you as you kissed wherever your lips could reach.
“I love you,” the words escaped you in a single breath, staying as close as you could under the covers.
“I love you,” he said back, giving light kisses to your chin and lips.
While it was highly unlikely it’d take root inside you, San liked the idea of it happening. He’d do anything for you regardless of whether it happened or not. You meant the world to him. Seeing you fall asleep in his arms, San pictured it and smiled softly before kissing you one more time.
***
A/N: Such a fluffy good time! I kind of wanted to dial back on the kink for this one, so I hoped you guys still enjoyed it <3 Like and reblog! It keeps posts alive!
this is part 2 of open wide! if you have not yet read part 1, i highly suggest reading it first.
summary: ever since that night, seonghwa has been avoiding you. but when new guy yunho starts at the restaurant, tensions rise until it reaches a breaking point.
warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, restaurant!au, bartender!seonghwa, server!reader, enemies to lovers trope, smoking (cigarette), alcohol consumption, sex under the influence of alcohol (but both consenting), fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up y'all), dick slapping, biting, cumplay, oral (f receiving), face sitting, creampie, degrading, use of petnames (princess, baby), the passion is T H E R E, woosan allegations once again, feat. new guy!yunho, server/work bestie!ryujin, servers!wooyoung and san, restaurant manager!hongjoong.
author's note: i already intended on making a part 2 of open wide, and everyone's feedback was so sweet and helpful on part 1! thank u again to @hausofmingi and T for being my beta-readers as always :-) plz enjoy ♡ ✧*
your eyes flutter open to the birds chirping outside. it’s way too fucking early to be awake right now. you feel yourself in a half-dream half-awake state, mind fuzzy and floaty. you turn your head to the side to see the man you spent the night with; the man who made you feel so good.
you rub your eyes a bit, attempting to wipe away the sleepiness. your vision adjusts, and you take a deeper look at him. seonghwa.
he really is beautiful. perfectly plump lips, long eyelashes, and there’s something about the way his nose is just a liiiiittle bit bumped at the bridge. even in his flaws you find beauty. you can’t resist gazing at him while he sleeps, his hair all messy in his face. why is it that he is so beautiful, yet the way he treats you is so far from that?
he shifts a bit, letting out a gentle sigh. your eyes begin to droop again, and you feel yourself drift off to the sound of his soft breathing.
when you wake, your bed feels cold. he left. you sit up slowly, stretching your arms up to ring out the exhaustion from your body. you look back at the empty spot next you.
it’s interesting that he left without a word, but you don’t know what to make out of it. before last night, you clearly couldn’t stand each other. you thought he was conceited and condescending. he was rude. and even during last night, his ego pooled over. but was the mere thought of missing him childish? you can’t help but to feel like there was something more to it. there was something on a deeper level that made you curious, therefore you wanted it back even more so. you started to feel like those girls from the movies; the ones where the girl becomes clingy after a one night stand. a cliché.
so what if he didn’t stay? it’s not like he actually felt anything for you. it was just a quick fuck. you probably were just another girl that he decided to throw a bone to. that’s what cocky men like him enjoy; just someone to string along and play with until he’s bored with them. you figured that time came sooner than you expected. well fuck him.
he hasn’t made eye contact with you once since you came in to work. you have the section right in front of the bar (thanks for nothing, hongjoong) so you have to just bear through it every time you pass him by. you prep your tables for service, wiping them down mindlessly.
you suppose there isn’t really a right way to go about this. sleeping with a coworker is a no-no, especially in restaurants. it gets messy (but it happens nonetheless). it’s not like you can go up to him and talk to him as if nothing happened. he didn’t exactly set you up for success either. he left without a word, and now you’re forced into the same space as him, clueless as to what to do. you decide to just ignore him unless absolutely necessary.
ryujin hops over next to you, a little too peppy for how you’re feeling.
“are you ready for a great service tonight?” ryujin says sarcastically, but with a grin.
“i want it to be over already,” you force out a dry chuckle, still half-assing the prep for your tables.
“the hell is wrong with you?” ryujin snorts.
“i’ll just—“ you start, but then realize you felt eyes burning into you. you look up the moment seonghwa’s gaze shifts, going back to wiping down the bar. “um, i’ll tell you later.”
“okay…” ryujin says, puzzled. she walks back to her section to prep.
your eyes are compelled to shift back up to seonghwa. at this point it just feels embarrassing to be wondering what he’s thinking, wondering if he felt what you felt sunday night. your thoughts are interrupted by hongjoong approaching you with a tall man, someone new.
“this is yunho,” hongjoong says, almost presenting the man to you. “he’s going to be trailing you tonight. just show him the ropes and i’ll grab him once dinner service slows down.”
yunho steps forward, extending a hand to you. “it’s so nice to meet you!” he gives you a warm smile as you shake his hand.
“it’s nice to meet you too, yunho,” you say, surprised by the immediate kindness. this feels a lot nicer than how you’ve been treated before.
tuesday nights are usually slow, even during dinner service. you had a decent amount of tables, but nothing you couldn’t handle. and fortunately the new guy caught on really quickly, grabbing the drinks for your tables, clearing empty plates when needed… working with him was making your shift a breeze.
“you’ve worked in restaurants before, haven’t you?” you ask yunho. you refill a water jug for your table with him in the back.
“yeah, i have,” he says meekly, rubbing the back of his neck. “you can tell?”
“definitely,” you nod with a smile. “what happened at the last place?”
“the management,” he chuckles, and you knew exactly what he meant without any explanation. “don’t tell anyone, but i quit without notice.”
you fake a gasp, pretending to clutch your pearls. you let out a light-hearted laugh. “don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
yunho gives a sweet smile to you, eye contact lingering a bit. you look down and realize the jug of water started overflowing and quickly move it away, letting out a humored yelp.
“oops,” he whispers, and you both giggle quietly to each other while wiping down the mess.
little did you know, seonghwa was entering the back to switch kegs for the beer on tap, and he walked in on your giggle-fest. he looks between the two of you momentarily as he continues to the back. you don’t even notice him until he passes. in a strange way, you can almost see annoyance radiating off of him. but maybe you’re making things up?
at the end of service, you finish closing all your tabs and count your tips at the bar with ryujin and wooyoung. yunho was in the back with hongjoong, debriefing the shift. you assumed seonghwa was in the back too, but you pushed away the curiosity.
“what a slow night,” ryujin sighs. she holds up her measly few bills and fakes a cry.
“how was training the new guy?” wooyoung inquires, packing his things.
“it was really good,” you can’t help but smile a little too big. your face drops when seonghwa walks back out to the bar, carrying a pack of beer to restock. you swear he steals a glance at you before kneeling down to refill the low-boys.
“speak of the devil!” ryujin grins, with all of you shifting your view to see yunho walking to the bar with an apron in hand.
“i think you guys might be seeing a lot more of me from now on,” he says, fake-cockily. the three of you congratulate him, all while seonghwa minds to himself.
“when’s your next shift then?” you ask.
“hongjoong said i’ll train the rest of the week, and then my first day live is sunday,” he says, throwing his bag on his shoulder.
“you know what that means…” wooyoung voices mischievously.
“uhhh, what does that mean?” yunho utters, a curious expression on his face.
“sunday celebration!” ryujin throws her hands up in excitement.
“what the hell is sunday celebration?” yunho laughs.
“basically,” ryujin starts, “it’s where we all go out after our shift to a dive bar nearby and drink away our sorrows. but this time we can drink in ACTUAL celebration!”
“i could be down for that,” yunho says. he looks directly to you. “will i see you there?”
your lips part to answer, but your ears are punctured by glass shattering, and the sound of beer fizzing on the floor. your head snaps over to see seonghwa grumbling and picking up the pieces.
“party foul!” wooyoung says jokingly, but then was met with seonghwa’s glare. “kidding…”
you stand from the bar stool and gather your things, taking the cue to leave. “i’m gonna head out. yunho, see you tomorrow?”
“yup,” he says, holding back a smile. “i’ll see you then.”
you turn to walk to the door, feeling eyes like daggers piercing your back.
seonghwa is messing up a lot lately. which is very unlike him, being that he’s a perfectionist. you rang up an order of drinks for your tables, and yeah it was quite a few drinks, but you had never seen him mistake a gin martini for a vodka martini. you approach the drink pass with the misfired drink, setting it down.
“seonghwa,” you call to him, pointing at the drink. “i need a gin martini.”
“that IS a gin martini,” he says flatly, filling a beer from the tap. so sure of himself.
“no,” you insist. “this is vodka.”
he approaches the pass, setting down the beer with its appropriate ticket. he plucks a cocktail straw to do a straw taste of the drink. but with the sip, he wasn’t remotely shaken. he just tosses the liquid in the sink, remaking it without a word.
“you just gonna stand there and watch?” he says while stirring the beverage.
“are you gonna make it right this time?” you snap.
he places the drink on the pass, clearly pissed off. he slams the ticket next to the drink and glares at you, almost too close. you feel the huffs of his irritated breaths fanning your face, and for the first time since that night, you really look at each other. but all that was tangible in the air was anger.
“run your drink, princess.” he enunciates your nickname, packing a punch.
after finishing your closing duties, you’re ready to leave and put this shift behind you. you wave goodbye to your coworkers and start heading out the back door, it being held open by a loose brick. just as your feet hit the pavement of the alley, you hear your name being called behind you.
“wait!” you turn to yunho calling after you, and stopping in the doorway. “you leaving?”
“oh, uh, yeah,” you say, adjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “i got all my side work done so i’m heading home.”
“oh, okay,” he says shyly, obviously with a second thought on his mind.
you look at each other for a moment, but not out of awkwardness, just with a peculiar feeling of enticement.
“so um, how was training with wooyoung today?” you ask.
“oh yeah,” yunho laughs. “it was good. he’s really funny with his tables.”
“yeah, that guy’s definitely a yapper,” you both giggle to each other in amusement.
“sooo… you’re walking home?” he asks, leaning on the frame of the door.
“i usually walk home, i don’t live that far,” you explain.
“me too! maybe i can walk you—“ yunho gets cut off by seonghwa barging into the doorway.
“can i borrow her for a sec?” seonghwa says, barely making it a question.
yunho hesitantly nods, “yeah, um, i guess i’ll see you later?” he says to you, giving you a small wave.
“yeah, i’ll see you tomorrow yunho,” you force a smile, with a pleading HELP ME written behind your eyes.
seonghwa leads you to the walk in, slamming the door behind him. he hovers over you and you can literally see the heat fuming off of him.
“what do you want, seonghwa?” you ask bluntly, trying your best not to sound intimidated.
“we need to talk,” he growls at you, stepping forward, forcing you to press up against the wall behind you.
“about what?” you quip with a begging tone. is this really the time to talk about it?
your eyes bore into each other, faces inches apart. his snarl nearly dissipates when he rips his eyes away from yours for a moment to glance at your lips. you blink up at him in temptation. you can feel the tension in the air, wondering if it was contempt or all encompassing desire. perhaps it was both.
“th–that shit you pulled earlier, don’t do it again,” seonghwa hesitantly lets out, nearly losing his composure.
“what, when you fucked up my drink order?” you ask.
“when you grilled me in the middle of service,” he defends.
“for fucking up, yeah,” you say, crossing your arms. “doesn’t feel nice to be scolded for your mistakes, does it?”
he glares at you for a beat, clearly unsure how to dig himself out of this hole. a hole that he dug. as if he snapped out of a trance, he steps back slightly. he clenches his jaw, and in a swift motion, withdraws from the walk-in. you’re left alone, still pressed up against the icy wall. a rolling cloud escapes your lips, making you realize you had been holding your breath.
it felt like sunday night didn’t come soon enough. this weekend was busier than usual, so all the running around on top of the rigidity of seonghwa was making you go mad. it’s difficult to avoid someone you hate when you have to retrieve drink orders from him all day. luckily, he just reserved to himself and you followed suit.
throwing your bag onto the bar, you slump into the bar seat at the end of the night.
“here,” hongjoong passes a shift beer to each of the servers at the bar, including you. “you guys need these after this weekend.”
you give a thank you while cracking it open, taking a big gulp. you let out a big sigh of relief.
“you’re right, hongjoong,” you say blissfully. “i did need this.”
ryujin snickers next to you, nudging your shoulder. “there will be plenty more at sunday celebration, don’t you worry.”
“speaking of,” san says, grabbing the shoulders of yunho. “congrats on your first live shift, yunho!”
“yeah, how was it?” you ask. you can’t help but smile at the beaming man.
“it went…” yunho starts, pausing for effect. “swimmingly.”
“sounds like a cause for celebration!” ryujin sing-songs, raising her beer in salute.
you all raise your glasses, short one person of course: seonghwa, who was mopping down the bar floor. after a hefty drink, wooyoung crushes his can first and tosses it in the trash.
“let’s start celebrating, sannie,” wooyoung says, throwing his arm over san’s shoulder. (seriously, what the hell is going on there?)
san and wooyoung book it out the door and ryujin follows soon after, finishing her beer and beckoning you to join.
“almost done, you go ahead!” you encourage, packing up your things hap-hazardly with one hand and chugging your beer with the other.
“shit, you guys drink fast,” yunho says, swishing his beer around to hear how much he has left. with a laugh he says, “wish i could just take this to go.”
“i won’t tell,” you whisper to him, grabbing him to join you. “walk with me?”
“okay,” yunho smiles, almost looking like he had stars in his eyes.
you two waltz out the door, leaving seonghwa at the bar cleaning alone. and with your eyes finally averted away, he can finally have no shame in watching you intently out the window. he is so fucked.
“here’s to yunho!” mingi hosts the cheers, with everyone raising their glasses, clinking them together and collectively taking a drink.
“guys,” yunho says with his face still contorted from the liquor. “thank you so much. you’ve all been so welcoming!”
“of course, you’re part of the fam now!” san smiles, wrapping his arm around the man’s shoulders.
everyone takes their respective seats and mingle amongst each other, all while taking more shots and drinking more beer. you, of course, were sat with ryujin and wooyoung talking about the latest work drama.
“have you guys noticed something different about seonghwa lately?” wooyoung asks. “like when he broke that beer the other night? i swear, the whole year i’ve worked here i’ve never seen him break a thing.”
“dude, yes,” ryujin says, leaning in. “he fucked up a couple of my drink orders today. so weird.”
“he’s definitely been in a bad mood lately,” you mumble, holding back from telling your secret.
“yeah, more than usual,” ryujin rolls her eyes. “he probably just needs to get laid.”
you choke back a bit on your drink, taken off guard by the comment. you realize the problem is not that he needs to get laid, but that he did get laid. and now he’s being tortured by seeing the poor girl at work every day. why did he have to sleep with you when you know he feels nothing but disdain for you? are you just a toy to him? you begin to feel dizzy, partly from the alcohol, but also from the thoughts spinning in your head.
“you okay?” wooyoung asks you, handing you a water. you nod and take the drink from him, but his eyes are quickly diverted to the bar. “oh shit, seonghwa is here.”
“what?” ryujin tries her best to look subtly. “do you think our shit-talking manifested him?”
“i don’t know,” you huff, trying to figure out a way to avoid him. “but i’m gonna go sit on the patio.”
“there’s a patio?” yunho chimes in, hearing the last bit. “can i join?”
you smile and nod, leading him back. this will be a good distraction.
“so…” you start, leaning against the wooden patio covering. “how do you like it here? at the restaurant, i mean.”
“it’s definitely different,” yunho laughs. he leans on the covering next to you. “everyone is super nice, the food is good… and it’s nice to work for a local business. the management seems to really care about the employees.”
“definitely, hongjoong is great manager.” you nod to him.
“it’s actually crazy,” yunho starts. “i’ve never seen so many attractive people all working in one place before.”
“what, like ryujin? or wooyoung? or san?” you giggle, realizing he was right. you do have a LOT of hot coworkers.
“well, sure,” yunho says shyly. “but no, i meant you.”
“oh,” you say, caught off guard. you suddenly feel a lot more drunk. you look up at him momentarily, him leaning closer to you.
if someone else saw this body language from an outside perspective, they’d think that he looks like he wants to kiss you. and so what if he did? would it be the worst thing in the world to entertain this, even after your mess with seonghwa?
yunho leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, quick but sweet. when he pulls away, you’re left looking at him with an unreadable expression, but in your mind, you were reeling.
there was something… missing. and it irritated the fuck out of you. yunho did give you butterflies, but you wonder if it’s just because it feels nice to have attention on you. especially from someone that’s actually kind and seems like he actually wants to get to know you. but in your crazy toxic head, you realize what was missing. passion.
“i-i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have done that,” yunho says, touching his fingertips on his lips.
“no, no,” you say, grabbing his arm. “it’s okay.”
before yunho can get out a word, the back door shuts with seonghwa walking out, witnessing the scene. you can’t resist stepping back slightly from yunho, as if it’s not too late to be caught. he looks between you and seonghwa, adding two and two together just from the tension alone.
“i think i’m gonna head back inside,” yunho says, rubbing the back of his neck. “sorry, again.”
“yunho, wait,” you call after him, but he already shuts the door behind him.
“let him leave,” seonghwa commands, leaning against the wall.
“what are you even doing here, seonghwa?” you ask, already putting your guard up.
“the fuck are you doing with the new guy?” he says, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with a match. of course he’s one of those pretentious dudes that uses a fucking match to light a cig.
“since when do you smoke?” you say, desperately trying to change the subject.
“i don’t,” he says casually, blowing a cloud into the air. “just been stressed lately.”
“i can tell,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “it’s like you forgot how to bartend.”
“it’s not just work,” he says, brushing off the insult you threw at him. “it’s also you.”
“what about me?” you basically refuse, shaking your head. “i’ve been doing exactly what you want me to do. i don’t talk to you, i don’t look at you. i pretty much avoid you at all costs. you’re off the hook, seonghwa. you don’t have to worry about me bothering you.”
“who says that’s what i wanted?” seonghwa says, finally looking directly to you.
“you didn’t have to say it,” you spit at him, forcing him silent.
the air feels heavy. seonghwa struggles to find words for what he wanted to say. he looks down again, ashing his half-smoked cigarette. the back door opens to wooyoung and san following after him, both opting to sit in the patio chairs in the corner. they continue their conversation, and seonghwa looks to you.
“we should talk somewhere more private,” he says, motioning to your coworkers. he’s already grabbing his keys from his pocket.
“why, so you can keep being an asshole to me without an audience?” you say.
“because i want to finish what we started,” he mumbles, walking out of the patio and to the back parking lot.
you try your best to resist, but curiosity overcame you as you follow.
after a short but tense drive, you arrive at what seems to be seonghwa’s apartment. he shuts the engine off and jumps out of his car. you slowly try to register what the hell is happening, unbuckling and hopping out. seonghwa doesn’t look back you, he just continues walking, knowing you’re trailing after him. he unlocks his front door, letting both of you in. he closes the door behind you, watching you examine your surroundings.
“this is exactly how i imagined your place,” you say, almost to yourself.
“you’ve been imagining my apartment?” he smirks.
“yeah,” you scoff. “it’s just as cold and rigid as you.”
“thanks,” he mutters sarcastically.
“so now what?” you say expectantly. “you bring me back here yell at me? make me cry?”
“there’s only one scenario i want of you crying,” he says, stepping closer to where he’s leaning over you. you suddenly feel stone-cold sober.
“and what’s that?” you say, tongue in your cheek, pretending not to know exactly what’s about to happen. and pretending you don’t want it so bad.
seonghwa grabs your cheek, beckoning your face closer to his. his eyes bore into yours, before landing down to your lips. not holding back anymore, he presses his lips onto yours with purpose. your lips meld into his, placing your hands on his chest. your kiss deepens in fervor, as if the hunger completely took over both of you. soon enough, you’re moving together towards his bedroom, clothes and inhibitions shedding along the way.
you fall back onto the bed with seonghwa standing over you. he takes off his belt while looking down at you with a look that can only be described as burning desire. once he discards his pants, he slowly runs his fingers across your panty-clad core. you’re embarrassed by how fucking wet you are already, slightly closing your legs around him.
“no no, princess,” he smirks down at you, licking his lips. “keep them open for me.”
you do as your told, letting him push your underwear to the side and feeling the wetness between your folds. he gathers some of your slick and brings his fingers to his mouth, savoring it.
“fuck,” he tilts his head up as he groans, unintentionally bucking his hips against the edge of the bed. “you taste so fucking good.”
with one hand gripping your thigh, the other hand dips back to your heat to slowly insert his middle finger in you. he lets you adjust momentarily before sliding in his ring finger, curling them both. he thrusts in and out, all while watching you squirm under his touch. he just watches in awe, mouth hanging open as he fixates on your pussy enveloping his digits, coating them with your essence. he releases the hand on your thigh to palm himself at the sight. he twitches in his underwear, precum soaking through at the tip.
as if he couldn’t take it anymore, he withdraws his fingers from inside you and rips your underwear, completely tearing the fabric to have more access to you. he tugs his bottoms down to release his aching cockhead, the tip leaking in a long drip onto you. he guides his member down the length of your core to gather your juices and stimulating your clit all the while.
with an elongated hiss, he enters you slowly. you’re taking every inch of him, pulsating around him. you moan with him as he starts rolling his hips into you. you can feel his head hitting every inch of your walls, the pressure making you moan in sweet agony. your sounds ring in his ears, savoring the whimpers you let out just for him. this quickens his pace, still driving into you with cadence.
he’s literally fucking you into the mattress, splitting you open with vigor. you find it impossible to keep from tightening around him in pleasure, and he loses a bit of his rhythm. he pulls out of you completely.
“you’re gonna make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that,” he says between exasperated breaths. he holds his length above you, slapping it onto your core. he bites his lip to hold back a groan before grabbing your waist to switch positions.
he sits up on the bed and places you on top of him. he holds your waist as he guides you down onto his cock. he examines every inch of your face, reveling at the way it contorts at the feeling of him entering you. once you adjust to him again, you start moving. you ride him, throwing your head back. seonghwa takes the opportunity to kiss and bite at the expanse of your neck. he moans as he begins thrusting upwards in tandem with you. he’s hitting all the right spots, and your bodies move together like a dance.
the moans you let out are uncontrollable, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. it feels like no one’s ever made you feel this way, feel this good. and maybe it’s true; maybe no one has ever awakened this primal, animalistic desire within you. it feels addictive, and you could not get enough. you pull him closer, yearning to feel every inch of his glistening body against yours, desperate for your forms to meld together in an all-encompassing embrace.
he crashes his lips to yours in a fervent kiss, a surge of passion pouring through and intensifying with every passing second. he reaches his hand down to toy with your clit, forcing you off his lips to let out a wanton moan. you core clenches around his length and a wave of stimulation transcends your body.
“cum with me, baby,” seonghwa lets out softly, continuing to thrust into you and toying with your clit.
you throw your head back in ecstasy, all while seonghwa’s eyes devour every inch of you, mesmerized by the sounds of your moans, the sweat trickling down your neck. each movement and touch sends shivers down his spine, solidifying his obsession with you. he wishes with every fiber of his being he could immortalize this sight in his mind forever. he is absolutely captivated by you.
“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs before resting his hand just below the side of your face.
his jaw goes slack when your core clenches erratically around him, drinking up this view as you completely come undone on his cock. he continues to piston into you until he follows immediately after, no longer holding back his moans of euphoria.
as your hips both begin to slow to a stop, seonghwa pulls you off of him, eyes still full of unrelenting lust.
“get on top of me,” he says, pulling you to straddle his face. “i want to taste myself in you.”
his hands grip your thighs as he guides your folds to his eager mouth. as soon as your core meets his tongue, a moan escapes his lips. his seed is still spilling out of you, and he licks up every drop with determination. your hips are still above him, hesitant to put your full weight on him.
“i need you sit on my face,” he says between licks. “i want you to fucking suffocate me.”
his hands on your thighs urge you down, letting you become fully seated on his mouth. he devours you, exploring every inch of you. you rock your hips against his tongue, each motion intensifying your pleasure. his hands encourage you to move faster, to take what you want from him. he separates from your core briefly to groan.
“baby, fuck my tongue,” he commands, attaching back onto you, granting you full access to his mouth.
you let his tongue slide into you and thrust onto it, all while his nose bumps at your clit. you feel the tension building in your stomach once again. the overstimulation sends you spiraling, hips continuing to grind onto his hungry tongue. you see his eyebrows knitting together in bliss, the vibrations of his insistent moans sending a pang throughout your body.
“seonghwa, p-please,” you beg, as if you weren’t the one on top of him, fucking his mouth. his dominance overtook you in every way, no matter what position. “i’m going to cum.”
he nods as if he’s saying, ‘yes, please cum on my face, please let me feel you,’ but is stifled by the grinding of your hips. he flattens his tongue so you can thrust your folds on him, and he’s smirking with lust behind his eyes. you let out a cry in pure bliss, your core contracting and spilling your essence onto his lips. he swallows every drop before latching his mouth back onto your clit, prolonging your orgasm. your movements slow down, and you let out a satisfied moan.
you fall off of him, positioning to rest your head on his chest. the waves of pleasure start to subside, and the only thing that can be heard in the silent air was the synchronization of your heartbeats. then reality hits you.
“seonghwa,” you say quietly. “what are we doing? why are we doing this?”
“i don’t know,” he sighs, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through your hair. he struggles to find the right words. “i just… i don’t think i want this to stop.”
you lift your head up, almost thinking it’s a joke. but when you look into his eyes, you can tell he’s being genuine.
“but… but you hate me,” you say.
“i could never hate you,” he urges. he places his hand on your cheek, stroking softly.
you want so badly to believe him, to trust the softness in his eyes. but a voice in the back of your head reminds you that this is temporary, this isn’t real for him, and urges you to not fall for this trap. your mind plays over the past few weeks of turmoil between you. you recall every harsh word, every cold stare, and wonder if this moment of tenderness can truly outweigh all of that pain. is it worth risking your heart again?
“then i need you to explain yourself,” you say, pushing his hand away. “tell me why you’ve been like this with me.”
he sits up, taking a deep breath. “i’ve been so fucking stupid,” he shakes his head. “i think all these years of working at a restaurant kind of roughed me up. i think i built these walls to try and prove myself in the industry, to prove something to myself. and it made me become someone i don’t even like.”
he meets your gaze, seeing your anticipation for him to continue.
“and then i met you, and i still had these walls. i walked all over you and made you feel like shit. and what’s so fucked up about it is that despite that, i actually started to like you,” he runs his fingers through his hair. “i was scared. i’m still scared.”
you never expected him to be this vulnerable with you, let alone confess his feelings for you. you sit up and kiss him softly, intimately.
in that moment, the barriers between you begin to crumble. it’s not going to be easy, but for the first time, you find yourself on the same page.
“i don’t know what comes next,” you say softly. “but we can be scared together.”
a/n: guys i am so proud of this one! i hope i successfully portrayed the intensity between them. shit got my heart racing personally. again, im new to writing fics so plz leave feedback and reblog to support me! thank u sooooo much ♡
I may have taken my sweet time writing this, but in my defense, the Felix smut was what my brain wanted to write first, and then life got to me and made me really busy. And here I am, finishing this fic at 3am in the morning lol. But have fun with the chaos of this fic hehe.
Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader
Summary: We see the aftermath and chaos of the company's decision, plus y/n gets some much needed comfort. Oh, and a reveal!
wc: 1.8k
AU: a/b/o
Genre: Fluff/Angst
warnings: fighting and slapping, threats, angst, slut-shaming and derogatory talk towards y/n, use of the words slut,pussy, whore, etc., lots of misogyny in this chapter folks, and a bunch of like derogatory talk about omegas that is absolutely misogynistic and sexist, lots of cursing, implications that people would take advantage of others, disassociating kinda, shitty people being called the names they deserve, this should be everything
masterlist
The fighting went on, it seemingly would never end as insults and angry words kept being thrown back and forth. Ateez and their management yelled back and forth over who had the decision making power over the new member, and for the most part, the auditionees just watched it all happen. What could they do? Nothing. They were just the pawns in the game, really, if one thought about it.
“You said we could have the ability to pick the final member out of that group! We don’t want anyone but y/n!” Wooyoung yelled, getting in the face of one of the staff members, having to be pulled away by Mingi and Yunho.
“I will take all of my members, and we’ll leave KQ, if you continue to insist on your pick for the ninth member. I am not above leaving. We,” Hongjoong said as he gestured to the rest of Ateez, “are not above leaving. I don’t think you want to test how far you can push us before we push back.” He said, his words a thinly veiled threat.
“Who would take you? They don’t want an established group.” The staff member who started all of this stated.
“I can think of a few companies who would gladly take us. You forget we’re a group that has a very large international audience, which is what companies want nowadays.” Hongjoong said, almost too calmly.
“We’ll leave, take everything we can with us, and we’ll go start somewhere else. Atiny will follow us, they like us, not you.” Hongjoong spelled it out for the staff members, who quickly realized that they might want to back down on this.
“God, is your pussy really that great that they’ll go to bat for you like this? Well, I guess a slut like you knows how to please, honestly that’s all omega’s are good for, anyways. Just a quick fuck, nothing more.” She heard the voice speak again, and this time it was louder, since she saw some of the other auditionees’ heads turn. She would have turned to look at who it was, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of the idols across the table.
It was apparent to the others, though not to the y/n nor the person behind her, that not only had the other auditionees’ heard those words, but so had a member of the group. Before anyone could process the idol’s actions, Jongho had launched himself across the room and tackled whoever had been sitting behind her, the two landing on the floor with a thump. This stopped any fighting in its tracks.
“You want to say that again?” Jongho growled as he pinned the other person to the floor, teeth bared.
“Y-You heard me.” They said, a stutter appearing as they tried to mask any fear of the beta on top of them.
“I would bet that you’re also the person who leaked those pictures to Dispatch. Since you’re so intent on being jealous that you weren’t picked.” The maknae idol deduced.
“And if I did? What are you going to do about it?” They taunted him, somehow overcoming their fear.
“Jongho, get off of him. Now.” Hongjoong ordered, moving over to where the maknae was.
“No.”
“Jongho, now.”
“He was telling lies to y/n. Telling her that she and omegas were only good for a quick fuck, and that we were only fighting for her because she was good in bed. His words were more vulgar, and I won’t repeat them.” Jongho said, never looking away from the target of his rage.
“It’s not a lie. Omegas are only good for fucking, that’s it. That’s their purpose in life, is to be good little broodmares for betas and alphas. Besides, what talent does she have, she’s barely done anything while we’ve been here, and has only monopolized the attention of all of you.” They spat out, glaring over at y/n before their view of her was replaced with Mingi.
Hongjoong turned to look at the staff and managers with a murderous look on his face. They really wanted someone like this, to become part of Ateez? “You wanted a disgusting piece of shit like this, to become a member of Ateez? Someone who will look down on his fellow members because of their subgender? You were going to let someone like this interact with Atiny, and based on his words, probably abuse power as an idol to take advantage of them?” He raged, his voice becoming increasingly louder until he was shouting at them.
The staff tried to stammer out excuses, claiming they knew nothing of the beta’s opinions. It was clear to everyone that none of the idols believed the words coming out of their managers’ mouths, though to his credit, their main manager didn’t say anything, just sat down and stayed quiet while the others talked out of their asses. In return for his silence, he received disappointed looks from the eight idols, half of whom were still filled with rage against the beta and the others.
Wooyoung rushed over to y/n’s side once the shock and anger of the situation was pushed aside in favor of concern for his omega baby. Placing his hands on her shoulders to turn her to face him, as she still spaced out.
“Baby omega, c’mon come look at me,” he pleaded. “It’s okay, so come back to me, to us.”
His words, plus his scent of flowers and cinnamon turning slightly burnt as he worried, brought y/n back to the present. She looked over at the other omega, whose face was filled with worry.
“Wooyoung-ssi?” She asked, still a bit dazed from her intense focus on what was now just an empty spot in the room.
“Hi baby omega, how are you feeling?” He asked her, as the others looked over at the two of them.
“God, I knew it from the moment that the hag of an omega dragged you away, that you were an attention whore.” The beta cut in, making everyone’s heads’ snap to him.
Y/n’s face dropped as she realized who exactly said that, but she couldn’t get a word in before the sound of a slap rang out. Mingi had stepped forward, kneeling down and slapping the beta’s cheek so hard that a bruise had already started to form.
“Aaron, why are you like this? You were so nice to me.” Y/n asked, confused.
“Because you’ve done nothing to deserve anything you’ve gotten here. I’ve worked my ass off for years, and I’ve been passed over in favor of omegas. Because of your kind, I can’t get anything, omegas are always the ones chosen for things, never betas. I deserve this. I’m way more talented than you are, and I’m not a fucking whore who sleeps her way into the team. I don’t monopolize Ateez’s attention, not like you have. You got private sessions with San and Yunho, I saw it. And fuck it was amazing to see how much hate you’re still getting for it. You should just go back home, y’know, and be the little omega housewife, because that’s all you’re good for.” Aaron goes off on a rant, inadvertently revealing that he was the one that leaked the photos to Dispatch.
The anger in the room was palpable, and y/n wasn’t the only one to shrink in on herself because of it. Wooyoung held her tighter, his arms snaking around her to pull her closer, as the two of them watched the others crowd around the three on the floor, as they noticed that the staff ushered the other auditionees out of the conference room.
“So, you’re the one who put my members’ careers at risk, and put them in the middle of a scandal? You’re the one who made my members worried and stressed because you’re jealous that another person, that wasn’t you, caught our eye? Y’know, it's fitting that it’s you. You look as pathetic as you actually are. Only someone who knows they’re inadequate stoops so low as to bring others down to their level. You’re passed over in favor of omegas, because they’re obviously better than you. And y/n is one of those omegas.” Hongjoong said, his words filled with condescension towards Aaron. “Say goodbye to any chance of making it in the industry, here or back home. Word gets around about bad people.” The captain finished.
Seonghwa turned to the staff that remained in the room. “If you don’t get security here within the next few minutes, and make sure he’s escorted back to his room so he can pack up and then driven to the airport to fly back to whatever dump he’s from, we will take it into our hands. I don’t think you want the media, or Atiny, knowing that you were going to let someone who tried to ruin two members of Ateez, into the group. Nor will the police be happy if they find out that they were deceived, if any of you knew about what he had done, to not only San and Yunho, but to an innocent person in all of this.”
Yeosang, normally not one to be overly touchy feely when things are stressful, moved over to Wooyoung and y/n, in need of comfort from his omega friend. Wooyoung immediately noticed and pulled the alpha close, the now trio taking comfort in one another. The two men silently communicated, both hoping that management would fail in the task given to them, so that the stain on the floor would be dragged out by police instead. They were disappointed when security rushed into the room, and once Jongho had pulled away from the beta, the team of security guards led the disgraced auditionee out of the conference room, and away from the lives of the now nine members of Ateez.
Hongjoong was quick to collect the rest of the group, including y/n, and bid goodbye to the staff members, not sparing them another glace as he led his group out into the hallway. Y/n was pushed into the middle of their protective circle, with Seonghwa and Wooyoung on either side, and Mingi behind the trio to bring up the rear as the others surrounded the trio of omegas. The group of nine were led to the practice room, as it was the easiest and quickest place to regroup.
Once everyone was settled in the room, most sprawled out on the floor, including y/n whose head was laid in Yeosang’s lap as the man ran his hands through her hair, silence settled over the group as everyone processed what had just occurred. That silence lasted until the youngest omega shot up, almost hitting Yeosang’s chin, as she realized exactly what the group had been fighting for in the first place.
“Wait. You want me to be the ninth member of Ateez?!” She shouted out, in complete shock.
genre: poly!surfers!ateez x fem!reader, childhood best friend!san, sort of college!au, slice of life and coming of age, slow burn, fluff, angst
length: 38.7k
c/w: surfer!ateez (deserves a warning), explicit profanity, hella angst, mentions of alcohol, themes of sexuality and homophobia, arguments, implied toxicity (not the boys), miscommunication, kissing, m x m interactions
synopsis: when you move away from your hometown at the age of six, you discover that summer in namhae takes the form of a skinny, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands– choi san. but as the summers go past and he goes to seoul for college, bringing back new friends each year, you start to develop feelings that run deeper than just friendship. will your summers of youth become ones of love and dreams, or will they end in pain and heartbreak?
a/n: i owe the biggest thank you to yumi @sorryimananti-romantic for making this fic possible and for all the support she's given me in the last three months. this fic has quickly become one that i hold dearly in my heart because of how healing it has been to write, so i hope this is also healing to read ♡
it’s the first day of summer when you move to namhae.
the houses and trees flicker past and eventually peter out into vaster fields, mudflats and stretches of beach as your father drives through the countryside from yeosu to namhae. you idly wonder if summer in namhae will be like what it is back in your hometown.
it isn’t very comfortable wedged between your parents in the middle seat of the mini-truck, especially when some of the roads become unpaved as you arrive closer to the village. but you’re wearing your cute, yellow sundress with bumble bees across the front pocket, which is your big-girl dress, so you can deal with the bumpiness a little longer without complaining. the truck sounds like it’s going to give out as it groans and sputters to a stop in front of what will be your new home.
tentatively, you hop out and look around. it’s a quaint beach house that rests along a modest coastal embankment. when you walk closer to the edge of the port, you see that there’s a stretch of sand that leads to the ocean, and a little further down the coast is another beach house– your new neighbours.
the rattle of your truck must have alerted them to your arrival, because they come out with warm smiles and even warmer greetings. they exchange handshakes and hugs with your parents, then the attention falls to you. there’s a boy who peers out from behind his mother’s legs as she compliments your dress, his round eyes brimming with curiosity at the sight of a potential playmate other than his sister. you cling onto the side of your mother’s dress and the adults share a laugh.
the boy’s mother gently nudges him forward. “go on, sweetie. say hi.”
with another nod of encouragement, the boy shuffles closer to you with an impish grin. you realise he’s shorter than you are. “hi, i’m san. i’m six years old and i like the sea!”
the grip you have on your mother’s dress loosens a little as you mumble shyly in return, “i’m y/n. i’m six and i like the sea too.”
his smile grows impossibly wider, and his eyes and remaining reservations disappear at your words. reaching out, he grabs your hand in a physical declaration of friendship. your other hand falls away from your mother’s dress.
“we’re going to go play at the beach,” he announces, because you’re his friend now and friends play together.
on your first day of summer in namhae, you find that summer takes the form of a skinny, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands.
“sannie!” you skid across the wooden floorboards of his living room in your sock-clad feet, startling his father who is sitting on the couch with a newspaper.
he peers at you from above his glasses with the smile that stays consistently warm, be it from him or his son. he chuckles, “hello, sweetheart, here to play with san again?”
you bow slightly in greeting and nod before you whiz off once more in the direction of san’s room. summer vacation has only just started and you and san have already spent seven summers together, but there are crabs to chase and waves to splash and sandcastles to build so there’s not a day to be wasted.
“choi san!” you holler again, thundering up to his door. you’re about to yank it open when san opens it from the opposite side, excitement already plastered across his face as he starts to yell your name too.
the moment he appears, you hurtle into his chest for a hug that ends up knocking you both off-balance. he stumbles backwards with you in his arms and rebounds off the edge of his bed, sending you both sprawling onto the floor in a fit of laughter. you’ve become familiar with the way his bedroom floor feels from these exact moments, and you’ve also become familiar with the way san’s arms feel around you from being wrapped up in his tight cuddles. you may love the sea, but you love being with san just a little more.
“do you have your bucket?” you ask, still tangled together on the floor in a mess of limbs and untamed hair.
san props himself up on an elbow and reaches behind you to reveal a large, plastic bucket. it’s purple with a white handle and it matches yours; blue with a white handle and still lying on its side from when you dropped it in favour of hugging san.
you sweep up your bucket with a cheeky grin, “race you to the beach!” using san’s chest as leverage to stand up, then pushing him onto his back again by his shoulders for good measure, you take off for the door.
“that’s cheating!” he yells after you.
you sprint with glee back through the living room, barely managing to brake in time to avoid running headfirst into his mother. you greet and farewell her in a single breath before you’re off again, forgoing your sandals when you hear the thundering of san’s footsteps and a warbled bye mum! bye dad! catching up behind you.
the pavement is hot under the bare soles of your feet but soon enough you leap off the sidewalk, bucket clattering in your hand, and the ground turns cool and soft as you run across the sinking sand. san jumps after you with a battlecry of his own and you scream when you feel him right on your tail. he catches up as you near the waves and with a final burst of energy, he grabs your hand and tugs you along with him.
your grip on your bucket is lost once more when you yelp and focus on keeping up instead– san’s only got an inch on you now but why is he so much faster than you? the wet sand starts to grow colder, salty water splashing everywhere the further you sprint. neither of you slow down– not that you could with san dragging you along right into the thick of the crashing waves as he whoops.
you dread the day san will actually be tall enough to pick you up and toss you into the water, but for now, you give him the satisfaction of pretending. you wait for him to bend down a little, then you kick the water right into his face. he splutters indignantly and blinks the sting away until he can see the wide smirk on your face. his tongue pokes his cheek as he gives you a scandalised smile, before he cocks his head and sniggers, “your turn.”
you take that as your cue to run. san dips his bucket into the water, scooping it up full to the brim, then starts chasing you with faux anger that makes you shriek in delight. you yell breathless apologies over your shoulder in between giggles but they all fall upon deaf ears as he continues streaking after you, bucket held high like a madman with an axe.
you end up slowing down because it’s hard to run through water, and you’re met with the icy downpour of water over your head. san laughs triumphantly when you look at him with the ferocity of a soaked kitten. you eye his bucket and weigh up the odds of snatching it out of his hands versus dunking him headfirst underwater through sheer force. realistically, you have no chances of doing either. plus, san knows you too well.
“use your own bucket, you loser,” he banters as he hides his. and yet, he walks back to retrieve your bucket for you before it’s swept out by the waves.
“are you cold?” san asks whilst passing it to you.
there’s vigour and liveliness thrumming through your every vein. “no,” you answer, “‘m not cold.” never with you.
he nods, “let me know if you do get cold, okay? i’ll grab you a jacket or something.”
“my house is literally next to yours. i can get one if i need to,” you chuckle.
“i know, but it’s the principle of it. just shut up and let me have my chivalrous moment.” san sits with the characteristic huffiness of a teenager who thinks he’s all grown up now that he’s in high school. but it’s not very convincing when he immediately starts to shovel sand into his bucket with the enthusiasm of a puppy.
“okay, thank you, sannie. i’ll let you know if i so much as shiver,” you dotingly appease him.
he nods diligently, then pats the sand next to him for you to sit down too. you join him in filling up the buckets with sand so that you two can make your thirty second attempt to build a five-tiered sandcastle pyramid. so far, you’ve only ever gotten to the third layer before it starts to crumble apart.
“what’s wrong?” you ask when san stops packing the sand into his bucket.
you realise he’s distracted by something in the distance and you follow his line of sight to find a lone surfer riding a wave in the horizon. san watches as the man’s body becomes an extension of the ocean– a dancing duet with the rolling waves as he stands steadily on his board with powerful elegance. when the board glides towards the shore, the man spreads his arms like an eagle’s wings and lets himself fall backwards into the sway of the water.
san is suddenly filled with yearning to learn of the sea’s choreography. he declares, “i want to become a surfer.”
“what happened to becoming a dancer?” you raise an eyebrow. because if there’s one thing that san loves just as much as the sea, then it’s dancing.
“becoming a dancer is still my dream. i meant surfing as an interest,” he breathes out. “just look at him. he looks so…free.”
you can see it in the way san’s eyes follow the surfer’s movements and sparkle with wonder– the moment he falls utterly and hopelessly in love. “then try it,” you encourage, “what’s stopping you?”
san tears his gaze away from the ocean to look at you instead. the same, loving gaze stays on his face. “nothing,” he proclaims with a growing smile. “absolutely nothing.”
san has all the summers in the world to surf. and you’ll be there with him for every single one.
you watch as san fixes his surfboard to the top of his black jeep– the last of his luggage to be loaded.
“i don’t get why you’re taking that with you. there’s probably nowhere to even surf in seoul.” you know you sound like a snobby six-year-old and not the eighteen-year-old that you are, but you don’t really care right now. not when san is leaving and you won’t be able to attend college together like you thought you would be.
tugging on the straps once more to check that they’re secure, he chuckles, “doesn’t hurt to take it just in case.” when he sees the forlorn look on your face he adds, “i’ll be back every summer, yeah?”
“it won’t be the same. who am i going to hang out with every day?” you grumble.
san laughs endearingly, “it’s only until i graduate.”
“or you find a job or a girlfriend and then you’ll stay in seoul forever.” you cross your arms defiantly as san steps closer and reaches out to ruffle your hair. where you had stopped growing at fifteen, san is still growing and he now towers almost half a head over you.
“just four years–no job, no girlfriend–and then i’ll be back. i promise.” he opens his arms a little, “now, do i get my goodbye hug or do i need to tickle it out of you instead?”
you huff before uncrossing your arms and sinking into his warm embrace. he folds you into his chest as your arms wrap around his waist. closing your eyes, you memorise the feeling of his back muscles flexing under your hands while he gently rocks you side to side. you soak in his body heat that swaddles your entire being in safety and home. you breathe him in one last time when you bury your face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling the steady pulse that beats there.
“i’ll miss you,” you whisper, because you don’t trust your voice not to crack if you speak any louder.
san presses a soft kiss against your hairline and admits, “i’ll miss you more.”
you bite back the urge to respond with ‘then stay’, cherishing the moment for a little longer instead, before you step away so that he can say his goodbyes to his family. he hugs them one by one; his father, his sister, haneul, and lastly, his mother. she’s discreetly wiping at her tears and you have to look away so that you don’t start crying too. because if you start crying, everything will become blurry, and you can’t afford that when this is the last time you’ll see san until next summer.
you all gather around the driver’s window that’s rolled down to the very bottom when san is finally seated. seeing him buckle his seatbelt ready to leave overwhelms you with a sense of finality and your eyes well up before you can blink the hotness away. san stretches a hand out to thumb away your tears and makes a sad noise, “don’t cry, please? we can call whenever you want.”
you sniffle, “call me when you arrive?”
he nods with that dimpled smile you are already starting to miss. and then just like that, your best friend is gone. you stand outside his house for a stretch of time, even after the outline of his jeep has long since disappeared into the distance. it may be the last week of summer, but it feels like it’s the middle of winter today.
san’s eyes flick upwards to look in the rearview mirror, even though he hasn’t been able to see your reflection the last three times he’s looked. he had tried to appear as collected as he could to avoid making it any harder for you, but now he regrets not holding your hand a little longer; a little tighter. and if san tears up a little as he starts the four-hour drive up to seoul, then that’s between him, the car, and the playlist you made just for him.
you absentmindedly tug on a crease in your bed sheets as you laze on your bed, phone on speaker so you don’t have to hold it. “what was that?” you pull your device closer to your ear. “are you going somewhere?”
there it is again– the beeping sound of a car in reverse. the warning signal stops as san answers vaguely, “home.”
you jolt up into a sitting position, a growing sense of excitement making its way across your face as you dare to ask, “home?”
“yeah, home,” san confirms, and you can hear the smile in his voice this time. “i told you i’d see you soon, didn’t i?”
“i didn’t think you meant in five literal minutes,” you almost trip over your own feet in your hurry to slip some shoes on. “oh my god, is that why you said you couldn’t facetime me?”
you can hear his answer this time– not the scratchy voice that comes from your speaker, no– the smooth deepness of san’s voice close by. and there he is. after almost a year of freezing days, absent dimples and longing calls, choi san is finally back in namhae for the summer.
in quick succession, you notice three things. one, san has returned from seoul with triple the number of surfboards that he left with, strapped to the top of his black jeep. two, said man is now almost a whole head taller than you as he watches you with a smirk and disconnects your call. and three, he’s not alone.
if you think that san is tall, then the two guys that hop out of the jeep after him are even taller. one of them runs a veiny hand through his dark brown locks, which fall back down to softly frame his face. the other turns in your direction after closing his door and you realise you’ve seen him before– both of them, actually.
on top of your spontaneous calls with san, you facetime him every friday afternoon after your own classes have finished. he’s usually in one of the university’s dance studios because, as a dance major at kq university, the studio is basically his second home. san mentions his friends every now and then and they’ll appear behind him to say hello to you or you’ll be able to hear them in the background of the call.
quite frankly, the crusty quality of san’s front camera hardly does them justice because wow. they’re hot. and tall. they’re not letting you forget that fact when the three of them step away from the jeep and closer to where you and san’s family are waiting to welcome them.
san greets his parents with a hug before he gestures to his friends one by one, “yunho, mingi. the friends i was telling you about.”
yunho and mingi thank san’s parents for letting them stay the summer and apologise in advance for the inconvenience. but from the way they’re immediately told that their extended stay is more than welcome and that hopefully the drive down from seoul wasn’t too tiring, you know san’s parents have already adopted the two well-mannered boys as their own sons.
“hey, pipsqueak,” san sidles up to your side whilst his parents fuss over his friends.
you look at him, appalled by the sudden nickname, and even more so as you swat his hand away when he playfully ruffles your hair to tease, “looks like you’ve been busy doing everything but growing.”
“on second thoughts, maybe i don’t really miss you.”
san laughs, the tinkle of the sound like the crisp smell of the ocean during sunrise. he pulls you into him and that’s all it takes for you to melt in his embrace. despite your earlier quip, you’ve missed san terribly. it finally feels like namhae now that his familiar arms are around you again.
the rumble of san’s chest is soothing as he says, “well, i miss you. it’s good to be back home.”
you pull back a little to look up at him and god, he’s gotten so much taller. “it’s good to have you back home, choi san.”
the sound of approaching footsteps breaks your hug apart and you give the two boys a friendly smile as san roughly introduces your names, “but you all already know that, considering you guys basically see each other every week.”
“on top of the fact that san doesn’t shut up about you,” mingi jokes.
san punches him in the arm and mingi amends himself with a laugh, “namhae! he doesn’t shut up about namhae!”
yunho snorts, then offers you a small hug as he properly introduces himself. he leaves enough space between your bodies for the holy spirit to boogie when his arms encircle you, and you honestly find his courtesy extremely endearing.
“are you two also dance majors?” you ask.
“yeah, so we share some classes together,” yunho explains. “mingi and san are in the department of dance performance though, whereas i’m in choreo, so they have all their classes together and i only share the core ones with them.”
“good thing, too,” mingi joins the conversation and rests an arm around the other’s shoulder. “i’ve known him since high school and i was honestly starting to get a little sick of his face.”
he earns himself a jab to the side and he keels over with a dramatic groan. both san and yunho ignore him in favour of stepping back towards the jeep to unload their surfboards. you eye the boards with curiosity, recognising the white deck with the yellow and blue tail to be san’s. the design is simple, but san had used his own money to purchase it as his first transition board after the beginner-level mini malibu his parents had gifted him, so it’s his baby.
“are these all yours?” you question as san rests the tail of his board on the ground.
he shakes his head with a flustered laugh, “the guys brought theirs along too.”
mingi reaches for his board after yunho takes his and your jaw drops to the ground. “you all surf? wait, so you can surf in seoul?!”
“no, you were right. you can’t,” san chortles in embarrassment. “but there are a couple of indoor surfing places that we can go to.”
mingi hikes his surfboard against his hip, “doesn’t beat the real thing, though.”
“nope, which is exactly why we’re crashing. sorry, by the way–we probably should’ve asked you whether we could come,” yunho scratches the back of his neck.
you frown, “of course you can. it’s not like i’m the town head of namhae or anything.”
“but they know we spend our summers together,” san lightly bumps you with the side of his hip.
“oh,” you can feel heat creeping across your cheeks, so you force it away by jumping on the opportunity to tease, “you know what? mingi was right. you don’t shut up about me, do you.”
mingi hollers at the ammunition you have just given him for future use and even yunho slaps his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. it’s amusing to see san flustering so easily now that there’s a new dynamic of friendship between you and the other two boys, and san resorts to giving both of his friends’ asses a good-natured kick in the direction of the beach.
as they lumber off with their boards sniggering, san effortlessly hoists his own board up and sideways and beckons, “let’s go.”
“you know i can’t surf, san.”
he flicks your nose fondly with his free hand, “not to surf, silly. let’s go get our buckets.”
your eyes widen and you stand on your tiptoes with excitement, “buckets?”
“of course,” san waggles his eyebrows up and down with his dual dimples. “we’ve got some serious sandcastle-building to show off.”
half an hour later, all three surfboards are tossed to one side in the wet sand as you share the buckets for an intense showdown between the ‘namhae ninjas’ and the ‘highschool homies’. san had shot down your suggestion to alliterate your team name with the word ‘neighbours’, claiming it was an insult to the bestfriendshipness between you two, but hadn’t been able to come up with a much better alternative himself.
san holds his breath as you upturn another moulded bucket of sand onto the third tier of your sandcastle pyramid. with little surprise, the foundation starts to crumble and triggers a chain reaction that topples it all over. as always, some things just don’t change, even over time.
mingi laughs at your sandy ruins with an awful lot of audacity for someone who had watched yunho build most of their sandcastle, only to then add a little stick at the very top as a finishing touch. he grabs his phone from where he had left it on the safety of his discarded towel and holds up the front camera to take a photo of you all.
where there used to be two sandcastles between two friends, there are now two sandcastles between four. mingi snaps the photo, eternalising the moment. some things do change over time, and sometimes, change is just the beginning of a new chapter.
“which one do you think looks better?”
your mother takes a step back to scrutinise yunho’s pick. “this one,” she points, “the other colour palette clashes too much.”
san nods solemnly in agreement and mingi squints at his own choice from beside. with the seriousness of their expressions, one would think that they’re discussing investment properties. in reality, you’re watching your trio of friends and your mother earnestly matching and colour-coordinating the floral prints of your father’s flowy farming pants to their button-up shirts.
noticing the dubious frown on mingi’s face, your mother nonchalantly skims her fingertips over the pants he’s holding. “this is one of my favourites because it has little leaves on it,” she remarks, before dropping her voice to a whisper so that only mingi can hear her next words. “it matches your shirt. i think you’ll look the best in it.”
he immediately perks up and you can’t help but compare him to a sunflower that thrives the most under a loving hand. it’s incredibly cute and you can also tell that your mother feels the same, if not obvious from the way she has been giving him extra hugs and compliments all summer.
you rejoin the boys after you have all changed into your pants. it takes a lot of self control not to laugh when you see how seriously they are taking their get-up; rubber boots hiked up to their knees over their floral pants, and their straw hats secured snugly with the chin straps. even as disinterested as your father originally was when the trio had first arrived at the beginning of summer, he now lingers behind the sliding glass doors to watch you and san attempt to teach the tall boys how to plant rice seedlings in the paddy field.
yunho grabs a small, prepared bed of seedlings and turns to look at you cheekily. “want to be a rice friend and show me how to plant these?”
you level him with a stare that makes him chuckle and apologise, “sorry, i won’t say that a-grain.”
he looks awfully pleased with himself, so you turn on your heels in pretence to ditch him for mingi instead. you let out an involuntary yelp when yunho prevents your escape by quite literally manhandling you back next to him. he dares to up his charm by using his wide, sparkling eyes on you as he thrusts the seedlings into your hands, like a child waiting for you to open a bag of snacks– how could anybody say no?
you talk him through your demonstration, separating a small cluster of seedlings from the seedbed before transplanting it into the field. once he seems confident, you let him take over. it’s mesmerising to watch yunho’s hands as he deftly carries out each step– the way his long and slender fingers move with coordination and grace. despite it being his first time, he works skillfully like someone with years of experience. you’ve come to realise that yunho’s good at doing things that involve physicality, like dancing, surfing, and now farming.
“how did you start surfing?” you wonder.
yunho stills momentarily, before he separates another cluster of seedlings and runs his fingers through its green shoots. “i actually started surfing because mingi wanted to try,” his voice is fond. “it’s been four or five years now.”
“that’s really sweet of you.”
he ducks his head bashfully, then asks, “what about you? how come you don’t surf?”
“san roped me into his first few lessons, but i never got the hang of it so i stopped,” you reveal. “i prefer watching, anyway.”
“maybe you just didn’t have a good teacher. i could teach you one day?”
you don’t doubt that he would make a good teacher, but you would most definitely be a terrible student. the shirt and board shorts that leave very little to imagination when he’s soaked, and the water that drips from the ends of his hair down his jawline and neck are distracting enough as they are from a distance.
you chuckle, “you’re going to need a lot longer than just a few days to turn me into a surfer. you guys leave this weekend, don’t you?”
“that’s true,” he hums. “but there’s always next summer…if you’d like that?”
at his words, you suddenly don’t know where to look. the rosiness that starts to colour your cheeks makes a small part of you hope that there is an underlying hint of flirting in his question. before you can answer though, you’re interrupted by san peering over your shoulder to look at yunho’s progress. “of course you’re good at this too.”
you crane your neck to look around san, where you find mingi squatting and planting seedlings in the rows that are within arm’s reach.
“how’s he going?”
san glances back, “he’s, uh–well. he’s trying.”
“my hardest!” mingi yells across the field.
with a laugh, you stand up and slowly make your way towards him, leaving san and yunho to lay down the rules to see who can plant the most seedlings in the next half an hour. because apparently, everything needs to be a competition between them.
the seedlings that mingi has planted don’t look that bad, honestly. they’re a little lopsided, the spacing and height of each seedling a little inconsistent, but for his first time it really isn’t all too bad. you tell him such and squat down beside him. “here, let me show you.”
you gently remove one of the seedlings from the watery mud whilst talking, “they may just be plants, but they’re like people, too. if you treat them with love and care, you can see the same reflected in them.” you neaten the sides of the hole as you add, “you know, it’s kind of like how yunho loves and cares for you.”
having spent all summer with the pair, you notice all the times yunho subtly perks his head up to locate where the other boy is. all the times yunho brings him into conversation or back into the little huddle you’re all standing in. all the times yunho will wait for mingi to say what he wants or thinks before saying the same thing himself.
your fingers ease the seedling into the hole, then you fill it with soil and pat it down firmly to give the shoot the support it needs. “yunho told me he started surfing because you wanted to.”
at your words, mingi nods with a wistful smile; completely different from his characteristic cheerfulness. even the brightest of stars have moments where their twinkle dulls. “i was going through a rough time at home and i wanted something to distract myself…give myself a reason to get out of the house, even if just for a few hours,” he reveals. “sometimes, yunho and i skipped our morning classes and he would take me on long trips to the beach just so that we could surf.”
“i’m glad you had him to help you through that.”
“yeah, he’s helped me a lot,” mingi agrees. “he still does. sannie too.” as he talks, mingi attempts to plant another seedling the way you have shown him, and this time, it stands tall and proud amongst the other shoots beside the one you have planted.
“how are things at home now?” you ask.
he shrugs aloofly, an indirect answer that tells you everything you need to know. his gaze settles on the other half of your little summer quartet, who are now in heated debate over the winner of the planting competition. “both of them knew that i didn’t want to go back to my hometown over summer. that’s why san asked if we wanted to come here with him. thanks for letting us stay this summer, y/n. it’s meant a lot to me.”
your heart breaks a little at his words and you nudge him playfully, “stop treating me like i’m the head of namhae. there’ll always be a place here for the both of you.”
he lets out a laugh, a glimpse of his usual self. “we just know how much summers mean to you and san.”
“and meanings can always change for the better,” you counter with a smile.
mingi feels warm from the very inside. for a moment, only you and him exist in this bubble of comfort as you simply gaze at each other. and it doesn’t go unnoticed. yunho stretches his back with a satisfied exhale at san’s admittance of defeat before glancing at the two of you looking nice and cosy in the exact same corner of the paddy field you were working on half an hour ago.
“have you two just been sitting there this whole time?” yunho narrows his eyes as his words draw san’s attention.
“no?” you flimsily say, at the same time mingi confidently declares, “yes.”
the man beside you is back to his usual antics as he giddily fans the fire by gloating, “what are you going to do about it?”
yunho and san glance at each other and you start rising to your feet at the foreboding of danger. they nod.
that’s all the warning you get before they lunge in your direction. as dorky and harmless as the two of them look in their styled outfit of farming pants and straw hats, they are anything but that as yunho and san take frighteningly large steps through the rice paddy with their long legs. and just as your luck would have it, yunho is the one who is closest to you out of the two predators. you hardly think that it’s a fair chase between the tallest and the shortest.
“yun, we can talk this out like adults,” you try to distract him.
whilst you’re struggling for your life to pull your boots out of the squelching mud as fast as you can, yunho easily moves towards you with a devilish grin. you see his outstretched hands, covered in mud, and you decide right there and then that you’re not above begging.
“don’t come any closer! please, i’m sorry! i’m–” your pleads are cut off when he grabs you by the waist and hauls you over his shoulder.
for a brief second, you almost slip right over him face-first into the mud from the momentum and your life flashes before your eyes. but then yunho’s arms flex as he steadily grips your thighs and readjusts your weight, and you resign your fate to his shoulder and his pretty– but grubby– hands.
you twist your head to the side when a husky screech alerts you to victim number two and you find mingi at the mercy of san’s headlock. he rapidly taps the latter’s forearm, yelling mercy as you all burst out into laughter. very soon, the field turns into a playground of childish liveliness as all intentions of farming are tossed to the wind.
mingi was right in saying that summers mean a lot to you and san. but as you all chase and run away from one another around the muddy field, smearing loving handprints of dirt over each other’s faces and clothes, sounds of happiness loud enough that your parents can hear it from back inside the house, summer takes on a new meaning in the shape of you four.
in hindsight, it makes a lot of sense now why san’s parents had knocked on your door earlier this morning, entrusting you with the spare key to their house and waving goodbye as they drove away in their rented campervan. they had let you know that they would be going on a road trip along the coast this summer so that san and his friends could have the house to themselves.
you hadn’t thought much of it– just excitedly counted down the hours until the reunion of your little quartet. yunho had been texting you updates as he, san and mingi finally made the four-hour trip down to namhae now that they were on summer vacation. one of the last texts you had received had been a picture of mingi in the backseat, head lolling and mouth open in deep slumber, with the caption, ‘gonna need to wake sleeping beauty up soon XD we’ll be there in about twenty’.
this time, you had opted to wait for their arrival by sitting on the embankment outside your houses. your legs had dangled off the ledge as you looked out towards the beach, and at the telltale noise of their arrival, you had excitedly hopped up to your feet, only to be met with a sight that had your steps halting in fluster. and oh, this is why san’s parents had decided to yield the house. because this time, not only have the number of surfboards doubled, but so have the number of cars and boys that are suddenly in front of you.
as san turns off the ignition to his jeep, you’re dazedly swept up into a sandwich of hugs between yunho and mingi as they greet you eagerly. it’s good to see them again in the flesh instead of their measly five-inch-tall selves over facetime, and you’d be a little overwhelmed by their height on either side of you– having forgotten just how tall they really are– if your attention isn’t distracted by the opening doors of the banged-up ute behind san’s jeep.
either seoul has water that’s doped with something, or birds of a feather flock together, because each of the three boys that step out are equally as good-looking. you’d be lying if your heart didn’t skip a beat at the sight of them. you’re a simple girl with hormones weak for eye candy, after all.
yunho slings an arm around you and walks you a little closer as the new faces turn to look at you with friendly smiles. “this is y/n,” yunho introduces. “and these are our friends, jongho and yeosang.”
you notice that he skips over one of the boys, who starts to open his mouth in complaint, but then yunho continues on, “and this short one is hongjoong. we keep him as our mascot.”
hongjoong gives the taller his middle finger with practised ease and counters, “and we keep you as our tall circus freak.”
the way everyone snickers, yunho and hongjoong included, tells you that this is just about as average an interaction can be. after the boys properly greet themselves and pleasantries are exchanged with you, they decide to unload all their luggage so that they can rest for the afternoon. you walk over to the open boot of the black jeep, reaching for the last duffel and hoisting it into your hands.
before you can so much as take two steps, there’s a hand carefully taking the bag from yours. when you tilt your head up, it’s san’s kind eyes that are gazing back at you. “here, let me do it,” he casually tells you and then he walks towards the open doors of his house.
left with the outline of his back, you have a clear view of his shoulders flexing under his white shirt and you wonder when he started to fill out his clothes with muscle. you become conscious of the way you’re subtly ogling at your best friend, so you shake your head and walk over to the back of the ute instead where there are still a few bags left in the open bed.
there’s a small duffel that looks relatively light. as you drag it closer, you quickly realise it’s heavier than it looks. “what the hell is in this? weights?” you mutter to yourself.
there’s a giggle beside you, “sorry, that’s probably yeosang’s bag. he brings his supplements with him everywhere.”
it’s jongho this time, with his gummy smile and crescent eyes, who takes the bag handles out of your hands. he extends a brown paper bag out to you instead. “we can trade. this is much lighter.”
he easily picks up the bag of supplements and then reaches for a second bag to sling over his shoulder. for the amount of adorableness he exudes from his smile and laugh, the strength that he seems to have is on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. as he walks away, there’s the crunch of approaching footsteps and you see that it’s the short boy, hongjoong. he’s only short relative to his friends, because when he comes to stand beside you he’s still easily taller than you.
“maybe you could help me hold this, too.” he’s holding his closed fist out, making it impossible to discern what’s in his hands.
“what is it?” you ask as you open your hand, palm upturned for him to drop whatever he is holding into yours.
except he simply uncurls his fingers and intertwines them with yours, shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. a laugh erupts from your throat, only growing in volume when yeosang appears and interrupts by stepping between the two of you, forcing his friend to let go of your hand.
as yeosang grabs the last suitcase and closes the tailgate, he deadpans to the other, “san’s going to chop your hand off when he sees,” then he slings his free arm around hongjoong and ushers the both of you back into the house.
“it’s okay, i wouldn’t let san do that to you,” you reassure.
hongjoong smirks triumphantly at yeosang, only for you to wipe the expression off his face when you finish, “because that’d be animal abuse.”
“it’s been five minutes and you’ve already picked your side,” he laments dramatically, before nodding. “i see how you play. i like you.”
“it’s a shame i don’t,” you quip back immediately.
“fuck, did i just get rejected?”
yeosang shoves his friend through the doorway, “stop digging yourself a deeper hole.”
you all laugh as you shut the front door behind you to stop the cold of the air conditioner that san has turned on from escaping. you’re definitely starting to see the appeal hongjoong’s friends have in teasing him.
you take the bag of snacks still in your hand to the kitchen and you set it on the counter where san is drinking a glass of water. he’s watching the rest of the boys play ‘scissors, paper, rock’ over room allocations now that all their luggage has been piled up in the living room. he raises an arm and you easily slot yourself into his side and slide an arm around his waist. relaxing into the touch of his hand slowly rubbing up and down your arm, you also watch as the boys grow increasingly rowdy with each emerging winner.
you’ve had the fleeting thought before, but now that you’re seeing all the boys together, you realise just how attractive they all well and truly are. even san, you’re slowly starting to notice, does not lack in the face or body department.
“do you guys have a rule where you have to be attractive to be friends or something?” you ask, only half-jokingly. even though you had directed the question at san, it’s not him who answers you.
“aww, stop. you think we’re attractive?” of course hongjoong would be the one to overhear.
immediately, the feistiness in you appears. “yeah, and i’m wondering why they made an exception for you.”
he takes on the jest easily, “god, you’re obsessed with me.”
“you’re right, i’m a little crazy for dogs,” you shoot back, and you can feel the shake of san’s chuckles from next to you.
“good thing i’d bark for you, then.”
“what the fuck, guys?” mingi interrupts, “get a room.”
at that, san steps forward protectively and shoos his friends away, “hurry up and put your bags in the rooms so we can go surfing.”
yunho and yeosang take their bags towards the small guest room down the hall, whilst the remaining three head for san’s room. you turn to san incredulously, “you’re fitting four people in your room?”
he shakes his head, “of course not. i’m going to sleep in haneul’s room. she’s on a trip with her friends for most of the summer.”
“she can stay at mine when she comes back. until you guys have to go back to seoul,” you suggest.
“oh, that’s right. your parents are in yeosu now, aren’t they?”
you nod. you had told san a couple of weeks ago that your parents had moved back to your grandparent’s house for the meantime. they’re not sure how long they will be staying in your hometown for, but considering the deteriorating health of your grandparents and the fact that you are independent enough to take care of yourself, it’ll likely be for a while.
san doesn’t tell you, but that’s part of the reason why he has brought so many of his friends back this summer. he knows that you’re silently struggling to adjust– even if his parents take care of you like their own daughter– so he hopes that he and his friends can fill in some of the silence, even if just for the summer. he wishes it didn’t just have to be summer.
“do you need to change into something else before we go?” he asks you.
you look down at the t-shirt and shorts that you’re wearing. you don’t mind getting them wet, but you can’t say the same about your underclothes. “yeah, i’ll quickly go and change first.”
he nods and watches as you head towards the door to toe on your sandals. when you pull the door open, he gently calls after you, “it’s good to see you again, pipsqueak. i’ve missed you.”
you smile, “i’ve missed you more.”
even after the door closes behind you, san’s smile stays on his face. “i’ve missed you the most.”
no matter how many times you experience the thrill of getting tossed into the ocean, you still cannot fathom the fact that the once short, skinny boy who used to pretend to pick you up is now tall and strong enough to actually do it.
“you cheater!” you screech when you feel san’s arms snake around your waist from behind, lifting you up off your feet. “you said you’d give me a ten-second head start!”
his gleeful laugh rings in your ears as he ignores your flailing limbs and teases, “i did! your little legs are just too slow.”
you start to feel the coolness of waves splashing your ankles and toes the further san carries you out away from shore and your grip on his forearm tightens in anticipation. with a slight swing, he lets go of your waist and tosses you into the water. the next thing you know when you regain your balance and wipe the water from your face is the sound of san’s yelp as he disappears underwater. jongho grins from above, having leapt onto the older’s back, who in turn has crumpled under the unsuspecting weight.
san emerges with a hulk-like roar absolutely soaked to the bone, his black t-shirt clinging to his torso. the clear outlines of his chest and broad shoulders set off an unfamiliar skip in your heart yet again, and san lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his face– revealing his abs in all of their wonder– does the complete opposite of calming you down.
you're fucked. there's no way you're attracted to san like that. in the form of petty revenge, said man brings his hands down to slap the surface of the water, splashing it right in your face and jongho’s and…yeah, that flutter of butterflies is gone.
san is caught right in the middle of the crossfire as you and jongho splash him, drowning his figure in torrential rain. the sounds of his choked laughter draw the attention of everyone else too, who have no idea why san is the target but are more than willing to join in. but with the plethora of water being splashed and the chaos of hands coming from every possible direction, the three of you end up drowning under the attacks.
hongjoong quickly loses motivation when his arms grow tired from doggy-paddling the water and yunho and yeosang’s attempts also slow down. they snicker at the aftermath– your trio absolutely drenched– and then rapidly skitter away before any of you decide to retaliate in vengeance.
at their cowardice, san bites the bait and goes hollering after them, leaving you with the youngest of your group of friends. jongho beckons towards the shore with his head and you’re momentarily distracted by his wet bangs falling over his forehead and eyebrows.
“up for more surfing?” he grins at you. and if there’s one thing you’ve learnt over the summer, it’s that you would kill for jongho if he asked you with his gummy smile.
jongho is a surprisingly good surfer. as the only one in the group who grew up in seoul with limited exposure to the beach, you can hardly tell that he’s a relative beginner in comparison to the rest of the boys unless you were a surfer yourself.
once they had become their close-knit group and they realised that most of them had a shared love for surfing, they had colloquially formed their own little surfer’s club, knighting jongho as their honorary member. he learnt to surf in indoor centres, during the occasional beach road trips they would make and through the experienced guidance of his friends.
of all six surfboards they had brought to namhae, jongho’s softboard is the one that is the most ideal for you to learn with. true to his words, yunho had attempted to teach you how to surf but on his own board– a shortboard great for experienced surfers to catch steep and aggressive waves, but terribly hard for a beginner to control. jongho had offered his board and so under his and yunho’s careful hands, you had spent your summer practising on the beach before slowly transitioning into the water.
which is where you find yourself now, on your stomach as you slowly paddle out. jongho stands close by and waist-deep in the shallow waters of the spot that he has led you to where the waves are few and calm. just a couple of metres away, yeosang idly straddles his longboard as he watches in support.
“you remember how to push through the waves?” jongho checks and you nod, gripping the rails of the surfboard and straightening your arms to lift your torso upwards.
“yeah, hang on,” he says, moving closer. jongho rests his hand gently on the small of your back to steady your body and you have to focus on what he’s telling you instead of the feeling of his warm hand. he taps the sides of the board a few inches in front of where your grip currently is.
“hold it here, otherwise your centre of gravity is too far back,” he explains as you shift your hands forward. “the board might end up tipping backwards when you go through the wave.”
you retry the movement with the new positioning and jongho nods in satisfaction, removing his hand and stepping back again.
“there’s a wave coming in we could try,” yeosang suggests.
the slight swell of a forming wave starts to appear in the horizon. it doesn’t increase much in size the closer it gets, but as it reaches its peak height, the top breaks and turns into a whitewater wave. yeosang is out a little further and so he demonstrates how to push through first, lifting his torso above the break as his surfboard cuts through the wave.
“okay, ready? hold steady, steady,” jongho encourages, helping you time the movement, “and push up!”
you follow his call and straighten your arms to lift your upper body out of the wave’s trajectory, guiding the nose of your surfboard through at the same time that jongho dives under the wave. although your face still gets splashed with some water and your board trembles slightly in your grasp, you make it through the wave without tipping over.
“i did it!” you yell, shakily sliding yourself further up your board so that you can straddle it.
“you did it!” the boys respond excitedly.
jongho jumps up and down beside your board, prompting yeosang to slide into the water to join your side. you laugh brightly at the sense of achievement and at the sight of the two boys bobbing around you in a merry-go-round of exuberance.
“just a little more practice and you’ll be taking on the monster swells in no time,” yeosang declares. you know he’s exaggerating, but it makes pride bloom in your chest regardless.
somebody calls out your names and you all turn to look. it’s san standing near the waters, gesturing behind him as he yells, “we’re going to walk to the mart to get some ice cream. do you guys want to come?”
“yes!” you shout back, “wait for me!”
ungraciously tumbling off your surfboard in a hurry so that you can pull it back to shore, the boys chuckle at your eagerness. jongho grabs his board from out of your grasp so that he can carry it instead and the boys all trail behind you as you bound past san towards the pile of your belongings on the sand. while you sift through the heap for your sandals, your other hand subconsciously peels your clinging shirt away from your body. you feel the presence of someone coming up behind you and assuming it’s san, you straighten your back with a phone in your hand.
“san, you left your ph–” you start, except it’s yeosang, who bends down to pick up his towel and drapes it around you. it’s warm from the hours it’s spent in the sun and you can’t help the pleasant shiver that runs through your body. yeosang tugs it snugly over your shoulders and then takes the phone from your hand.
“here,” he tosses it to its owner, who falls into step behind you.
san nods his head in thanks and rummages under a towel where your sandals have been hiding before placing your shoes by your feet. “the ground’s pretty hot,” he says as he offers you his forearm to steady yourself with, patiently waiting for you to do up the buckles around your ankle.
“wait, i forgot my wallet,” you tell him once jongho and yeosang rejoin you after putting their surfboards away.
“don’t worry about it,” san reassures, “hongjoong’s buying.”
your ears perk up and he laughs because he knows exactly what you’re thinking. “yes, y/n. bleed him dry and order whatever you want."
"even a double–no, even a triple scoop?" you exclaim scandalously.
san's eyes drip adoration, "yes, even a triple scoop."
you run ahead with a cheer, blabbering jongho’s ear off about how if you get three different flavours and he also gets three different flavours, then you guys get to share six flavours, before yeosang joins in with excited chatter about how you guys can make it nine flavours if he does the same. you catch up with the rest of your friends and somehow, like a devilish cult, you all start to chant, “bleed hongjoong dry! bleed hongjoong dry!”
the oldest jokes that he only offered to pay for yours, not everybody’s, so mingi starts to tell you what he wants so that you can order in his stead, setting off a chain reaction as everyone else places their orders through you. they surround you, happy jostles and raucous snickers as you disappear in the middle of the group.
from behind, as san watches you grow closer and closer with his friends each summer, he can’t help but feel like he’s going to burst from affection and pride. he knows it will be a while until your parents move back to namhae, as is the same for himself until he graduates. but between his group of six– which will hopefully become the full eight next summer– and the group chat that you all made within hours of meeting each other, san is confident that you’ll never feel alone.
“if only wooyoung was here, then we’d have someone to grill the meat properly,” yeosang muses as he watches jongho flip and examine the packaging of the beef. “he’s the best cook out of us.”
“trust him to be a good cook, too,” you comment.
when you had first met yeosang, jongho and hongjoong, they had told you that there were two other friends who weren’t able to make it to namhae with the rest of them this summer. one of them was wooyoung, who naturally became part of the group after attending the same dance club as yunho, mingi and san. wooyoung had then been paired up with jongho during an inter-department project between the department of film & multimedia and the department of drama, growing close to the younger and by extension, to hongjoong, a senior in jongho’s drama society.
their other friend was seonghwa, they had told you; the oldest in their group and also in the year above like hongjoong. however, seonghwa attends a completely different university along with yeosang, the both of them undertaking a degree in education at seoul national university. they share some senior classes together, as yeosang had transferred from a law degree and had some of the credit prerequisites to jump ahead. and since yeosang is a close family friend of wooyoung’s, the three of them gradually became well-acquainted with each other.
it’s a running joke that you don’t need to remember how everybody knows each other– you just need to know that wooyoung is the common factor between them all, the person who decided that all of his friends should be friends with each other. so not only is wooyoung a social butterfly, seemingly charming and witty with good looks– should the boys’ track record stay true– but apparently he’s a good cook too. some people really just have it all.
“what else do we need?” jongho asks, haphazardly placing a few packets of the meat into the shopping cart he’s pushing.
“mingi said it would be good to make smores at the end of the night,” you answer.
last summer, during the final week that mingi, yunho and san were in namhae, you had all decided to have a barbeque feast and then spend the rest of the night huddled around a small campfire on the shores of the beach. it had been one of your favourite memories, simply basking in the peaceful buzz of summer and slowing your lives down just for one night to do nothing. you had suggested turning it into a tradition, and now that the final week of this summer has arrived, you’re all at one of the few grocery stores in namhae to stock up on food, snacks and drinks for the night.
“let’s see if they have marshmallows, then,” jongho makes a move to walk away.
hongjoong suddenly interrupts the conversation, appearing with an empty trolley in front of him. “get in,” he tells you.
yeosang helpfully points out, “that sounds like something a man with a tinted white van would say,” at the same time you question, “are we even allowed to do that?”
he beams, “i like to think that until somebody tells us we’re not allowed to do something, we are allowed to do it.”
“i can think of fifteen different reasons right now why that’s terrible life advice.”
the man simply nudges your side with the end of his trolley and you half-heartedly frown, “i’m really hoping this seonghwa friend is more responsible than you are, seeing as he’s older.”
“i hate to break it to you, but seonghwa’s worse,” jongho grimaces. “maturity ages backwards in this group, unfortunately.”
at jongho’s words, you turn to look for yunho, hoping that as the next oldest down the line he can talk some sense into hongjoong. only you’re met with the sight of the overgrown man pushing his own shopping cart with a very cramped but happy mingi sitting inside.
you sense defeat when hongjoong nudges you once more. “i can’t believe i’m doing this,” you mutter to yourself as he holds it steady for you to climb into. after all, you think, what’s life without breaking a few rules?
except nothing prepares you for the absolute madness that unfolds the moment your bottom touches the cold, metal gridding of the trolley. hongjoong quite literally revs the handlebar with engine sound effects, before charging through the aisle at full speed in an apparent race against yunho and his passenger princess. you hold on to for dear life, thinking that this will be over once you reach the end of the aisle. but both racers show no signs of stopping, instead drifting with sharp cornering into the next aisle as you screech. half of you is terrified, but the other half of you is starting to seek the thrill.
“faster, joong! faster!” you goad when you can see san standing at the end of the frozen section, waving an imaginary chequered flag.
both carts rattle past him in a close match, and as opposed as you were to the idea at first, you argue passionately against the honorary referee and the rival team over who won first place. even jongho and yeosang pick a side and claim that their eyes– from three aisles over– are as trustworthy as VAR playback.
it’s no surprise when the ruckus you’re all making gets a store manager sent your way. but by some saving grace, most likely the begrudging understanding that everyone has done this exact thing at one point or another growing up, the store does not kick you out. they let you finish shopping for the supplies you need, but not without the glares of the retail workers following you and your friends regardless of which aisle you try to duck and disappear behind.
with hushed giggles and not-so-subtle elbows in each other’s sides, your group hurriedly pays and places the multitude of plastic bags back into the trolley. san and jongho take one of the trolleys each and you all walk back to the cars to load the shopping. you would think that a scolding would deter any further misbehaviour, but when you all see the relatively empty parking lot, there’s only shared smiles of deviousness and glints of mischief.
if anyone were to look at the parking lot outside the grocery store that tuesday morning, they would see a group of seven friends, clad in an eyesore disarray of sweatpants, shorts, pajama tops and slippers, pushing each other around in shopping carts like bumper cars with shrieks of joy, circling around the dusty jeep and banged-up ute that has become an enabler of their connection and happiness.
you may all be doing the very things that your older selves will look back on with exasperated smiles and disapproving head shakes in ten years. but in the moment, you are unafraid; uncaring of what others think, because you have your friends by your side. and this, you think to yourself, is the essence of youth and summer.
you wish you were older. because being older means that you’ll have graduated, and being graduated means that you won’t have to fucking study for your fucking exams. you let out a groan and drop your head onto the table, making an audible thump when your forehead misses the thick textbooks and scattered notes, and hits the solid surface instead.
“hey, you need those brain cells,” someone gently chides. haneul stands at the doorway to your bedroom, watching your misery with a fond smile.
“can’t lose what i don’t have,” you mumble back.
“take a break,” she suggests. “do you want me to get you something from the bakery?”
haneul laughs when your head immediately turns to look at her, your left cheek pressed against the table by the cheeky smile that adorns your face. she chuckles again, “got it. i’ll be back.”
you absent-mindedly listen as the lock of your front door clicks shut and then let out a deep sigh at the silence that follows. it’s been a few hours since you first sat down and started studying but it feels like you’ve been reading the same sentence over and over again with no progress. pressing your forehead into the table again, you groan in frustration.
your ringtone goes off and your hand blindly fumbles around for your phone, sliding what you’re relatively sure is the answer button. “yeah?” you say into the receiver.
“someone’s a little grumpy today,” a teasing voice sounds.
“hwa?” you sit up instantly, looking at your phone properly.
it is him, not only blessing you with the deep richness of his voice but also the visual of him in a black tank top as he looks amusedly at the facetime you have answered. “are you still studying?” he asks.
you deflate a little, reminded of why you’ve been creating a crater in your table with your head for the past ten minutes. “mhm,” you hum affirmatively. “except nothing’s going into my brain anymore.”
“sounds like you need a break.”
“that’s exactly what haneul said,” you grumble, although you’re not entirely sure why you’re so opposed to their suggestions to stop studying.
“because we’re right,” he quirks his eyebrow. “what’s haneul doing at yours, anyway?”
“taking advantage of my netflix while i slave away to pass my exams. but she’s forgiven since she’s buying me snacks.”
“then take a break until she gets back and you finish eating. it’ll only be an hour, tops,” seonghwa convinces. “i’ll even set an alarm to let us know when time is up and i’ll keep you company when you study.”
you sag a little into your chair, shoulders relieving of their tension as you concede, which makes him smile sympathetically, “just a few more weeks to go until summer and then you’ll be free.”
“are you taking up summer school again?” you ask.
after san had added you and all the boys into a combined group chat, you had made friends with the two that you didn’t get to meet. you discovered seonghwa hadn’t been able to make the trip to namhae last year because he had chosen to take summer school instead. he had wanted to complete some of his degree requirements earlier in hopes of working part-time during his final year to gain practical experience. wooyoung, on the other hand, had had a portfolio due for his film class that required the majority of his summer if he wanted to complete it in time.
seonghwa grimaces at the memory, “no, not this time. it was a mistake, honestly. i burnt out so fast the first semester back that i didn’t even end up applying for any jobs.” he points a stern finger at you and warns, “don’t ever think about doing summer school.”
“trust me,” you laugh, “i have no intentions of ever doing that.”
you appreciate his advice regardless, because as immature as the other boys had made him out to be, seonghwa really does look out for all of you as the oldest of the group. and more often than not, you find yourself gravitating towards him when you need comfort or reassurance. “does that mean i’ll finally get to meet you?”
seonghwa nods, “woo as well.”
the screen of your phone suddenly splits to make room for an additional video as somebody joins the call. you hear his voice before his video even buffers. speak of the devil.
“oi! why are you all calling without me?” wooyoung complains.
contrary to the roll of your eyes, a smile makes its way across your face as you respond, “we’re literally calling from the group chat. no one’s leaving you out of anything.”
and as if his appearance is some sort of talisman, more of the boys start to join the call one by one. even hongjoong’s profile picture appears, camera off and on mute, wanting to feel included even if he’s in the middle of class. yunho and mingi pop up from behind wooyoung, so you’re guessing they’re busy practising in the studio. you wonder where san is.
someone asks you a question about how your exams are going, but you’re momentarily distracted by the buzzing notification of a text. “hang on,” you mumble, “let me just…reply to this.”
it’s one of your classmates, johnny, asking whether you’re home right now. you had accidentally slept through one of the review lectures earlier in the week and he had offered to give you a copy of his notes. from his text message, it appears he’s close by and able to drop them off now. you reply an affirmative and then click back into the video call, asking, “sorry, what were you saying?”
the drone of shared chatter about exams and the upcoming break fills the silence of your bedroom, like the fluttering breeze of a pleasant spring day. if they were not already so closely correlated to the warm, golden rays and salty spray of the summer ocean, your friends would be spring– the season of fresh air, blooming flowers and thriving vitality.
“someone looks happier. who are you talking to?” haneul emerges in your bedroom having come back from the bakery, holding a pastry box.
you didn’t even realise you were subconsciously smiling. “i’m facetiming the boys.”
she smirks, eyes glinting with mischief as she waggles her eyebrows suggestively and drags out her words, “i see. so who is it that you like? or is it all of them?”
“quit it!” you pretend to shove her. “want to say hi?” you turn the screen of your phone in her direction and there’s a chorus of obedient hi haneul’s as you turn up the volume.
she waves and peers at wooyoung’s video. “where’s the baby brat?”
from somewhere within the call, san yells out indignantly, “stop calling me that!” there’s a slight rustle as he walks closer to take the phone out of wooyoung’s grasp and when you peer to have a look, you can see that he’s sweaty and red-faced from finishing up a routine.
“you still respond to it, so,” haneul shrugs.
she disregards her brother’s continued complaints to drop the box onto your table along with a neatly-stapled stack of handwritten notes. “i bumped into johnny outside and he said this was for you,” she explains as you take it gratefully.
at the mention of a boy’s name, wooyoung shoves his nose towards his front camera. he rapidly asks, “who’s johnny? is he haneul’s boyfriend or what? why’s he giving you something?”
even hongjoong flicks a message into the group chat to ask, ‘who tf is jonny’.
you hold up the paper to show the boys and laugh, “he’s my classmate, guys. and he gave me notes because i missed the lecture.”
wooyoung frowns at your answer, clearly dissatisfied as he complains, “why is he giving you notes. and–what the fuck? did he hand write them? what a pretentious prick.”
you ignore him in favour of opening the pastry box to see what else haneul brought back for you. “how did you know i love these?” you exclaim.
she gives you that same, mischievous look from earlier and as she starts to exit your bedroom to leave you to your call and sweet treat, she vaguely answers, “how do you think?”
from over your phone, the others start to ask what you’ve got in the box, allowing a certain boy to easily slip unnoticed into the background. but it doesn’t take a detective to work out how– or perhaps you should say, who– told haneul about your recent cravings.
because if there’s one person who knows you the best, one person who takes notice of even the littlest of things, then it would be him.
hongjoong lightly slaps your thigh in retaliation as your laughter jostles his head that’s resting on your stomach, which only serves to make you laugh even harder. he lifts his head to grumble, “stop encouraging him, y/n. he’s going to think he’s actually funny or something.”
with a shaky exhale, you wipe a stray tear away, because you don’t think you’ve ever laughed this hard in your entire life. now that you see their whole group dynamic in action with the complete eight of them, it’s like watching a live sitcom.
wooyoung looks at him with a smug expression…then proceeds to yank the older’s sock right off his foot before throwing it into oblivion. hongjoong jolts up and dives for him and they immediately tussle about on the floor of san’s living room. amidst all of the commotion, san sneakily goes for seonghwa’s socks and you’re glad that you had peeled yours off the moment you had walked through the front door because suddenly everyone’s socks are a target.
the successful harvests that are tossed away are immediately snatched up by mingi, who hurls them under the table, behind the couch and on top of the television. you think you can see one dangling off the lights too, but you’re not about to snitch. jongho joins the corner you have taken refuge in and yeosang follows soon after, content to stay far away from the havoc that has quickly turned into wrestling. unfortunately, wooyoung is unable to let the three of you watch the world burn peacefully. he yells at the boys, who choose this to be the time to actually listen to him for once, and you’re all left scrabbling in different directions when they dive for you three.
it’s only the first day of summer and the second hour of officially meeting the boys as their full group of eight, but you can already tell that the next few months are going to be filled with absolute chaos and mayhem. and so the summer that marks san’s third visit back to namhae passes by quickly as you and the eight boys fall into an easy routine. hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. summer revolves around each other and there is never a moment spent apart.
you join the boys at dawn every day, clad in only a pair of shorts, a tank top and a light cardigan to shoulder because there’s still a slight nip of the early morning before the sun appears. you watch contentedly as they dance with the ocean on their surfboards– a duet of paddling out into the deeper waters and catching the breaks of the swells back towards shore.
the more you watch them surf, the more you start to realise just how much san has improved. you still recall the day san had fallen in love with the way the surfer used his own body and surfboard as an extension of the ocean, and you still have early memories of san’s lanky limbs flailing as he lost his balance over and over again, trying to replicate the same gracefulness. now, san is not just a dancer– he is the choreographer; the one who controls the ocean under his board.
as the early morning wears on, the serene crash of waves and intermittent squawk of the soaring seagulls are gradually interspersed with the boys’ rings of joy as they become more interested in pushing each other off their boards and splashing each other, rather than surfing itself. the strongest trio easily overpower everyone else and you shake your head fondly when the others don’t learn their lesson regardless of how many times they are suplexed underwater.
when the sun starts to wake up, they join you on the sandy shores, surfboards placed in a rough row so that you can all share them like seats. you lean against whoever is sitting beside you and watch the sunrise until your stomachs start to growl for attention.
greasy takeaway is always the foolproof solution. you share hearty burgers that are too tall to bite into and salty fries that are slathered in dipping sauce, sprawled out on the cool floorboards at san’s or yours, soaking in the refreshing coldness of the air conditioner on high without a care in the world for the electricity bill that is racking up.
afternoons are for the second round of the meal; bingsoo from the cafe, pastries from the nearby bakery or cheap ice cream from the mart. and after all the food, the best way to digest before you go out again at dusk to catch some of the waves is to take a nap.
the giant puppy pile of tangled limbs and human pillows is arguably your favourite part of the day. even if the ends of jongho’s hair tickles your nose and your arm goes a little numb from the way san hugs it and your neck feels cramped from resting on seonghwa’s shoulder, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
sometimes, when you’re all feeling rejuvenated, you’ll clamber into their three cars or happily pack yourselves into two and drive down the coast to one of the other beaches. the drive there is music blasting and scratchy singing at the top of your lungs with the windows rolled down, your flyaway hairs caressing the cheeks of the boys beside you. it’s rest stops to fill up on drinks and dessert– any excuse for more ice cream and a chance to make hongjoong’s wallet cry.
the trip back, on the other hand, is quiet, the designated drivers pressing softly on the pedals and turning with care so as not to jostle the sleeping passengers. you’re all exhausted and passed out against one another, faces pressed against a shoulder or the crown of someone’s head. slow music plays lowly in the background as the streetlights start to turn on like a warm greeting to welcome your group home.
and just as yeosang had once said, wooyoung is a good cook. dinner time becomes a bonding activity– as if every second of summer isn’t already a bonding moment– where you all experiment with different and increasingly complicated recipes. it usually ends up with him and seonghwa actually doing the cooking whilst everyone else eats the ingredients and tries not to accidentally stab someone with the knives, and dinner doesn’t usually actually become dinner until eight or nine o’clock.
but it doesn’t really matter when, half the time, the post-meal conversations turn into a slumber party after time slips away. if you retire early, you’ll sometimes be joined by haneul in your bedroom, who has stayed in namhae this summer. she’ll spill her workplace tea and you’ll gossip about your college peers late until the stars have long started to twinkle in the sky.
there are no scheduled bedtimes, no proper mealtimes, no time limits to complete things nor niggling guilt not to complete things– there is no formal routine. but when spontaneity and carefreeness become the everyday occurrence, that becomes the routine.
and as with any sort of routine comes the familiarity. familiarity finds itself in the way san sing-songs wake up, sleepyhead whenever you accidentally sleep in, and instead of shying under the covers at the sight of him in your bedroom, you whine for five more minutes. familiarity finds itself in the way yunho’s hands hover around the small of your back whenever you’re all walking to the mart for snacks and in the way wooyoung immediately reaches for the flavours he knows you like.
familiarity finds itself in the way you and hongjoong will bare puppy teeth at each other one moment then naturally use the other as a human pillow the next. it’s in the way jongho hides you when san tries to throw you into the water; the way mingi tucks your head into his shoulder when he spins you around in a hug; when seonghwa reminds you to reapply sunscreen whilst dotting the lotion along your cheeks and when yeosang quietly drapes you in his jackets after you get out of the water.
but the thing with familiarity, though, is that it’s easy for it to overshadow other things. rather than realising that there is a shift in dynamic or a change in heart, other growing feelings can be mistaken for familiarity instead. and you don’t understand this until you least expect it.
your hands fumble to catch the bottle of sunscreen that yunho has thrown in your direction before it ends up landing on yeosang’s face. he’s taking a nap on the towel next to you, disputing against everyone else’s remarks that he should take the opportunity to surf considering you’ve all made the two-hour trip to dadaepo beach.
you adjust the small umbrella that he brought along so that it covers his upper body, then uncap the bottle and lather the sunscreen over your arms and legs. it’s when you get to your back that you realise you won’t be able to reach all of your skin. san or seonghwa are usually around to help if you decide to forgo a cropped shirt over your bikini top, but they’re already running far along the shore and you can’t be troubled to yell out for one of them.
you’re starting to wonder whether you can get away with not applying sunscreen on your back if you just make sure you lie on it the whole time when hongjoong spots your plight in the form of a blank stare and squeezed lotion in the palm of your hand.
“your short arms can’t reach your back, can they?”
you imitate his laughter with an exaggerated tone, “who was it that needed my help yesterday putting sunscreen on his back?”
“maybe i just didn’t want you to feel too bad about yourself,” he shrugs and walks over to swipe the glob of sunscreen out of your hands. you roll your eyes, knowing fully well he’s incapable of taking care of you without pretending to cover it up with an insult.
“stop squirming,” he chides. the contrasting cold of the lotion and warmth of his hand sends a shiver down your spine and you try not to dwell on his gentle rubs for too long. he’s meticulous in making sure he doesn’t miss a spot, but he’s also careful and deliberate with his touch around the knotted strings of your top so that you don’t feel uncomfortable. hongjoong and the word ‘uncomfortable’ could never be in the same sentence though. but he doesn’t need to know that.
“there,” he pats your back twice like a mechanic would with the hood of a fucking car to signal that he’s finished his job and then callously walks away.
you decide to let him off the hook and settle down on your stomach to rest your eyes for a bit. yeosang knows what he’s doing, because the combined warmth of the sand beneath your towel and from the overhead rays makes you drowsy almost immediately.
you’re flicking your salt-crusted hair out of your face when a voice interrupts, “hi, i’m sorry to bother you.”
lifting your head up to look, you’re met with the sight of a girl around your age, timidly fiddling with the popsocket on her phone. you sit up and give her a polite smile, “that’s okay. can i help you?”
“um, i was just hoping to ask if he has a girlfriend?”
the boys are all scattered along the length of the beach, save for yeosang next to you, so you’re not entirely sure who the girl is referring to until you follow her finger. she’s pointing in the direction of hongjoong, who’s joined some of the others along the shore.
“the short one?” you clarify, smile fading a little as you shrug, “i’m not too sure, sorry.”
the girl shakes her head, “oh, no. i meant the boy on his left.”
choi san. you now fight to keep the smile on your face friendly when you reply, “not that i know of.”
the girl thanks you excitedly, walking off back to her group of friends who immediately huddle around her to hear your answer. you look away.
you don’t realise you’re staring at san until he turns in the distance and makes eye contact with you. his entire face lights up, eyes disappearing and shadowed dimples revealing themselves under the gleaming sun. wooyoung takes the opportunity whilst san is distracted to swing a handful of limp seaweed straight into san’s face and a laugh escapes you before you can hold it in. your best friend looks more betrayed by your laughter than by wooyoung’s antics.
the younger turns to look at you with pride and when he sees that you’re laughing, he blows you an exaggerated kiss and sends it flying in your direction with a teasing flurry of his hand. yunho charges in from out of absolutely nowhere and pretends to tackle the kiss mid-air, throwing the imaginary show of affection into the sand where hongjoong immediately joins in and stomps on it with his foot, before sending you a flying kiss of his own instead.
chaos ensues and both hongjoong and yunho run for their lives as wooyoung chases them with his deadly seaweed whip. he quickly realises that the taller of the two will be impossible to catch, so he locks in on the easier target and hongjoong screeches in fear.
you can’t help but shake your head adoringly as you continue to watch, eyes landing on san once more when the cat and mouse go tearing past him in a whirlwind of sand. san holds your gaze with a fond smile of his own and you have to remind yourself that it’s normal for the boys to have suitors.
you’re not dating san. you’re not dating hongjoong. you’re not dating any of the boys, and they’re certainly not yours. so then, why does it feel like they are? but most of all, why does your heart feel equally bitter at the thought of someone asking about any of the boys…not just your best friend?
the sight of the tube of aloe vera gel in the fridge– likely placed there by seonghwa– is a welcome sight. you had diligently reapplied sunscreen to your body with the boys’ constant reminders to reapply but you had carelessly forgotten about your face. you’re paying the price of your mistake now and the red skin across the apples of your cheeks and forehead is tight with a constant, dull throb.
grabbing the tube, you walk into the bathroom where hongjoong is currently blow-drying his hair, having callen dibs on the shower after the beach trip.
“hey, lil’ tomato,” he jests before he gets a good look at your face. “woah, that looks worse than it was an hour ago.”
you hum as you peer closer into the mirror, “this is probably the worst sunburn i’ve ever gotten before.”
hongjoong ruffles the back of his hair one last time under the dryer before unplugging it and setting it on the rack. he slips the tube of ointment out of your hands and then turns you by the shoulders to face him. that’s how you find yourself between hongjoong’s front and the porcelain sink, the edge of the countertop digging slightly into your lower back as you watch him squeeze a generous amount of aloe vera onto the tip of his finger.
he murmurs, “hold still.” with a light touch, he tilts your chin up so that he can see the angry skin of your face. the stark contrast between the characteristic roughness of his edges and the tenderness with which he applies the soothing gel on your face right now has you itching to tease him.
“admit it. you like taking care of me, don’t you.”
he rolls his eyes, “and you like being taken care of, don’t you. like when you needed your notes handwritten by johnny.”
ever since that one incident, the boys have never let you hear the end of it. they may not realise it themselves either, but really, they’re just trying to keep low tabs on this…classmate. even if the way they go about it reflects the emotional maturity of somebody half their actual age.
“i admit it’s nice to be taken care of. what about you, huh?” you challenge, poking his side testingly. “you like taking care of me, don’t you?”
you giggle when he squirms and you try it again to elicit another response, until he suddenly grabs your hand by the wrist.
“and so what if i do?” his words come out easily, but unlike the usual cockiness and flirtatiousness that he jokes around with, his tone is low and serious.
you don’t respond because you don’t know what to respond; you’re suddenly walking in uncharted territory– both in regards to his feelings and your own.
when his fingertips brush the area of your cheeks just below your under-eyes, you can’t help the instinctive flutter of your lashes. his eyes stare into yours and you swallow, noticing the way his gaze flickers down to follow the movement. there’s hunger in his pupils and longing in your chest. you don’t move away when he moves closer in.
your eyelids flutter closed once again, except this time in anticipation. his hands still cup your cheek and hold your wrist and when he brings his face down towards yours, you can feel the warmth of his body surrounding and intoxicating you. but as his nose starts to nudge the softness of your cheeks, hongjoong pulls away.
“sorry, i–this was a mistake. i shouldn’t be doing this,” he stutters. and just like that, the moment shatters.
“th–that’s okay,” you awkwardly smile. “this never happened.”
he nods without looking at you, “this never happened.”
you’re glad your face is sunburnt because you’re certain your face would be glowing from the embarrassment and shame you are overwhelmed with. hongjoong turns around before you can say anything else and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone.
quickly, you lock the door and then stand there stunned into a stupor. because his…whatever the fuck that was, has given you startling clarity that he is right. you shouldn’t be doing this. you shouldn’t be kissing him when you want san and your six other friends equally as much.
and most of all, it was foolish of you to assume that he actually wanted something more than friendship. if hongjoong, the most flirtatious of them all, doesn’t have any romantic interest in you– or at the very least enough to want to pursue something more– then what makes you think you have a chance with any of the boys? what makes you think that any of them– much less all of them– would want you in the same way that you have now realised you want them?
in a way, your heart feels more at ease now. knowing that your feelings for the boys will be unfruitful one way or another, it’s much easier to ignore the now obvious lurch in your heart whenever they pull you into an easy hug or tell you that you look pretty. it’s easier to repress the longing you have for them when they help you put on sunscreen or surround your house with mischief and laughter.
you can’t tell whether hongjoong is actively avoiding you or whether he is conveniently busy with the other boys, but you suppose time apart right now is good for the both of you. after all, time is supposed to heal everything. and so even as the end of summer approaches and the much anticipated night of the barbeque and campfire tradition arrives, you keep your distance from hongjoong and he keeps his. simply two friends coexisting within the larger group of friends; nothing more, nothing less.
you’re all sitting on a patchwork of picnic blankets and beach towels spread around the small fire that san has constructed, now experienced from having made one three years in a row. haneul shares the towel with you on one side and yunho on your other.
dinner had been greasy meat grilled by wooyoung’s skilled hands paired with cheap alcohol that made you all wince when it went down. it had been finished off with skewered marshmallows– the most vital part of the night, as mingi had fervently reminded everyone.
someone had then suggested a round of ‘truth or dare’, which most definitely did not stop at one round. the flushed cheeks and tipsy slurs not only made the dares increasingly bizarre, but it made everyone daring enough to actually do them. as the night had continued on, the outlandish dares slowly trickled off and more of you picked to answer truth questions. with the mellowing ambience of the campfire and the clearing buzz of alcohol in your systems, it was only a matter of time before the night fizzled into calm.
“mingi,” haneul directs her question at the taller, “ if you were to date one of us excluding me, who would it be?”
his eyes dart from her to you and then to every single one of his friends. “i’d date you all,” he shrugs. “but if i had to pick one person, then probably yunho, since he’s been there for me from day one.”
yunho knocks shoulders with him appreciatively whilst joking, “your parents would love to hear that answer.”
you spot san and wooyoung cringing at the thought and you’re reminded of snippets of a conversation about surfing as a distraction and escape from home.
moving the game on, mingi asks seonghwa when he picks truth, “if you had to pick between love and friendship, which one would it be?”
seonghwa hums for a while, watching the dancing lick of flames. “i think it depends on the situation, because in the end, they’re not that much different from each other. in love there is friendship, and in friendship there is love. it’s impossible to say that one is more important than the other.”
there’s a collective boo as he skirts around the question, but you all understand where he’s coming from. it still doesn’t stop san from retorting, “the whole point is to pick one.”
seonghwa chuckles and downs half a shot to appease the other of his apparent half answer, then tosses the same question at him. “what about you, then?”
much to his disappointment, san actually has an answer.
“i would probably choose love. i think you’re right in saying you can’t separate love and friendship, but the thing that sets a romantic relationship apart is being in love,” he muses. “it’s hard to find friends you love, but it’s even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, so i would probably hold onto that no matter what.”
a few of you subconsciously nod along, words resonating with yourselves. haneul nudges you curiously, “what do you think?”
you relax into her side as you slowly formulate a cohesive answer from your thoughts. “i think i would choose love, too. i’ll admit it’s a much more difficult relationship than friendship and it often requires sacrifices to be made…it can even mean having to let go of somebody completely.”
hongjoong glances at you, guilt pricking at his chest.
“but at the same time,” you continue, “when you love somebody that much, sacrifice becomes something you want to give and are willing to offer to the other person, and you develop a depth of understanding, connection and intimacy strong enough to overcome anything that isn’t always possible with friendship.”
“you and san are both such gross romantics,” haneul pretends to gag.
“yeah, shoot us for it,” you poke her in the side. “wooyoung, truth or dare?”
“since everyone’s picking truth…truth.”
“who’s someone you’re sorry towards or thankful for?”
he whines indignantly, “why are we suddenly getting so personal,” but proceeds to think about his answer seriously. “if i’m honest, i’m sorry towards everyone. i know there are times i fall short as a friend and make mistakes, but you all always forgive me and embrace my imperfections so graciously. sometimes it makes me wonder if i even deserve you guys.”
there are immediate noises of protest and wooyoung smiles, waving away their words of objection because he knows that he’s wrong. it’s just that knowing doesn’t always stop him from feeling a certain way. “and of course, what i’m sorry for goes hand in hand with what i’m thankful for. but i’m also especially thankful for y/n,” he reveals.
your body reacts instantly to his unexpected answer, blood rushing towards your cheeks and ears as he looks at you appreciatively.
“i haven’t known you for as long as most of the other boys, but i’ve seen how happy and vibrant they are whenever they return to seoul or whenever they talk about you. and i can definitely see why, now. you make them happy–you make us happy.”
mingi clears his throat, jumping in to add to the younger’s answer, “when i’m here in namhae with you, with everybody, it feels like home.”
a home that he’s never really had until yunho, san, you, and the rest of the boys came along.
“so thank you for giving me a home here,” mingi looks at you earnestly.
if he were sitting closer, you would reach over and squeeze his hand reassuringly. instead, you tell him, “no matter how many years go by, you’ll always have a home here.”
“and the rest of us?” yunho jokes, lightly slapping your knee where your legs have slowly made their way into his lap over the night.
“you all have a home here,” you amend. because namhae is not the same without san, and namhae is not the same without the rest of your friends, either.
you continue asking each other questions, even after midnight has long ticked past and haneul has retired back to the beach house for some sleep. nobody wants the night to end, because despite already having been attached to each other’s hips all summer, the time you are spending now around the campfire is different. life slows down and the nine of you are the only ones to exist along with the stars and the ocean waves.
“you know what we should do?” wooyoung pipes up when you are all quietly watching the fire. he grins, “we should do that thing where we shout at the ocean.”
“just…straight up scream?” hongjoong frowns.
a smile starts to spread across san’s face as he understands wooyoung’s vision. “no, like our dreams. regrets. confessions,” san elaborates, making a move to stand and brushing the sand off his shorts.
seonghwa questions, “are we really doing this?” and yet he stands up as well.
“when will we ever get a chance to do this again?”
one by one, you all get up on your feet and wander down the beach closer towards the water. it’s silent, save for the crash of waves, while you eye each other and wait for somebody to start it off.
yunho clears his throat, then yells his next words from the very depths of his chest, “i want to become a famous choreographer!”
there are shared giggles at the striking contrast in volume after hours of low, heartfelt conversation, but it’s enough to fill the rest of you with courage and desire to do the same.
“i want my parents to accept that i won’t be a lawyer like they wanted me to be!” yeosang calls out.
mingi takes a huge breath with his entire body, “i hope i’ll win the lottery one day!”
you all break out into laughter, happiness and vigour running high through your veins. it definitely feels a little silly and a little childish, but is that not the charm of living in the prime years of your youth and spending it with your friends?
reservations now completely thrown to the wind, the boys holler and yell both serious and unserious aspirations with their entire soul, cupping the sides of their mouths with their hands to carry their voices further out across the waters. you watch them with deep affection and tenderness and your eyes suddenly start to well up with the intensity of your emotions.
thank you for showing me what love feels like. you can continue to love them as friends, and that is already more than you could ever ask for.
taking a deep inhale of the chill of emerging dawn and blinking away the blur in your eyes, you join the boys and yell your heart out to the ocean. your screams blend together into a symphony of dreams and hopes; the swell of the chorus and the pinnacle of the movie.
and even though you’re all half-delirious from the lack of sleep, hair ruffled and mismatched pajamas wrinkled, it feels like anything and everything is possible in this moment. from here on, it’s the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring.
you’ve known johnny since you started attending namhae’s provincial college. being from a relatively small cohort and the same degree no less, you share most of your classes together. there’ll be a few times throughout the month that you’ll find yourselves sitting in the seat beside each other and maybe once a semester that you’ll complete a group task together.
he’s easy enough to get along with, conversation sprinkled with terrible jokes and random puns that remind you of yunho’s silly humour. you know for a fact as well that they’re the same height too, which sort of makes you wonder whether being tall has something to do with the way their funny bone develops, considering mingi’s humour is just as questionable.
you and johnny aren’t exactly distant enough to only be classified as classmates, but you’re not exactly close either. so it’s a surprise when, after summer ends and it marks a new semester, johnny asks you out on a coffee date on the weekend. (except the more you think about it afterwards, the more your seemingly random interactions make sense. why he asks for your number even after the group project is over. why he offers to drop off handwritten notes for you. why he sometimes favours sitting with you as opposed to with his own friends.)
initially, you tell him that you’re not interested, any potential awkwardness dissipating the moment he dramatically wails that he’s been rejected, much like hongjoong had when you had first met him. but then a week later, johnny coolly slaps an envelope onto the surface of your lecture table and struts off without looking back. when you open it, you realise it’s a three-page handwritten essay detailing his pros and cons in an attempt to try and win you over.
it reminds you of wooyoung, when he had made a whole presentation on his laptop complete with photographic and videographic evidence to try and convince you that he was the best dancer out of himself, san, yunho and mingi. like your friend, johnny’s efforts are honestly a little too hilarious and a little too endearing to reject for a second time, and it’s not like johnny has done anything to suggest that he’s a creep or murderer. so you let him take you out on the date.
he chooses to go to the small, quaint cafe that’s about a fifteen-minute walk from campus. coincidentally, it’s the one that you and san used to frequent before he moved away to seoul. johnny tells you to try the chocolate hazelnut dacquoise slices, which you do even though you know you prefer the strawberry ones more. the sweet mouthful makes you think of san, always offering you the first bite of his chocolate dacquoise in hopes of converting you to the flavour.
johnny pays for your dessert and drink and you two end up sitting in the cafe long after your plates have been cleared and mugs emptied to their bottoms. it turns out he likes spending time at the beach just as much as you do and he tells you of his summer trip to the maldives for his casual modelling gig. you’re not entirely surprised to learn of his part-time endeavours, considering you’ve never seen him dressed in anything less than loafers, chino shorts and a neatly-pressed button-up shirt. plus, johnny is objectively very attractive with his strong brows, chiselled jawline and dark locks of hair.
he offers to walk you home after your date, shrugging off his white button-up and passing it to you when you exit the cafe. it’s still warm enough in the afternoon to not need the extra layer, but you’re reminded of yeosang’s quiet yet perceptive gestures and it makes you smile nonetheless.
the weekend leads to a second date, followed by more time spent together. he finds reasons to see you throughout the weeks– the sun’s out which means you two should take a walk along the beach; he fell asleep during yesterday’s lecture which means you two should study at the cafe; he has a basketball match on the weekend which means you two should practise shooting hoops together.
and when you’re not physically spending time together, johnny likes to facetime you just so that he can ‘see your pretty face’. the frequency with which he compliments you randomly throughout the call is almost on par with seonghwa, who always sweetly observes when you're wearing a new lip tint or different hairstyle.
johnny’s laugh, be it in person or over video call, never fails to make you laugh with him. it’s boisterous when he doubles over with laughter and his eyes disappear when he chuckles. you can’t help but see jongho’s own adorable giggles in him.
after several months of courting advances, johnny asks to make it official. you say yes, because you have fallen for him.
and so, like the dwindling campfire that had marked the end of summer, you snuff out the remains of the fire in your heart that has been burning for san, hongjoong and the six other boys, leaving the last of the embers to their fate. left alone, they will slowly die out, completely extinguishing the flames and leaving only ashen remnants behind…or the sparks will continue to fight unnoticed; until they rekindle and turn into an uncontainable inferno.
“with all due disrespect, his parents don’t fucking deserve to be parents,” wooyoung spits out.
yunho tucks the blotchy aftermath of mingi’s heartbreak a little tighter into the crook of his own neck, other hand softly tousling the ends of the younger’s hair. the boys have only just managed to settle mingi into one of the beds in their shared dorm rooms after he had shown up at the dance studio barely holding it together by his last thread.
“i don’t think any of us had high hopes for them, considering the things he’s told us about them over the last few years,” seonghwa sighs as he pulls the blanket over mingi’s shoulders.
“but for them to just fucking disown him like that? do they even realise how much it took for him to come clean about us?”
san gently pulls wooyoung away from the bed, lest he wake up the boy in question, and massages his clenched fist open. yeosang sidles up to the pair, “do you think we could go down to namhae a few days earlier this summer?”
“that actually might be possible,” san chews on his bottom lip and takes out his phone to text his parents. “it’ll be a nice surprise for y/n, too.”
“she’s in for a few surprises,” jongho comments before nudging the boy next to him. “hopefully you didn’t scare her off after what you did.”
hongjoong scratches the nape of his neck at the jab, “yeah, i hope i didn’t fuck things up for all of us.”
“you still haven’t talked it out with her?” san looks up from his phone.
hongjoong grimaces, “no, but how could i? she said to pretend that it didn’t happen.”
“and you just took her word for it? god, that’s literally the universal response anyone would automatically give in a situation that’s utterly and mortifyingly embarrassing,” wooyoung throws his arms up into the air. “i wouldn’t be surprised if she says no to us after all.”
“look, i’ll talk to her when we see her again. the semester’s nearly over, anyway.”
san nods, “my parents are fine with us going down a weekend earlier. and i agree with hongjoong on this one–it’s probably something they should talk about in person, not over the phone. let’s just hope we haven’t missed our timing with this.”
there’s only a few more weeks left until summer, minus one week now that they have decided to make the trip down to namhae earlier for mingi’s sake. and regardless of what your answer will be to the question that they’ll ask you– be it yes or no– it still won’t change the fact that everything will be okay once they get to namhae. because everything is okay as long as you are by their side.
there’s a man standing by your side, and it’s not one of them.
it’s strange to see you holding hands with someone that they don’t know. of course, it’s inevitable that you would have your own friends in namhae and from college, and of course it’s inevitable that you would have friends of both genders. but the way you have your fingers interlocked with his looks anything but platonic.
the boys are familiar with the way their own hands feel with yours nestled in theirs; from when you squeeze yourself between two of them and happily swing your intertwined hands back and forth; when a large wave threatens to topple you over and you instinctively reach for them for support; when you’re curled up against them and absentmindedly fiddling with their fingers whilst watching a cheesy summer romcom. but right now, their own hands feel unfamiliar– oddly empty and unable to make up its mind as to whether it wants to relax or tighten into a fist, even more so when you make eye contact with them standing outside san’s house and freeze.
you haven’t told the boys about johnny yet, only that you had news you wanted to tell them in person once they came for the summer. but now that they are here, standing right in front of you and your boyfriend, you suddenly feel a prick of guilt that you hadn’t given them a heads up of some kind.
you slip your hand out of johnny’s grasp under the guise of tidying your hair. if johnny notices, he doesn’t comment on it. instead, he asks, “you know them?” and settles his arm heavily over your shoulders. the action probably looks as territorial as it feels.
“yeah, they’re my closest friends,” you answer louder than you need to, because you feel like you have to defend them– or yourself. “san’s from namhae, too, and the others are from different provinces. they go to college together in seoul.”
“oh,” your boyfriend makes a noise, “it’s them.”
hongjoong feels awfully smug at that comment, because it means that you’ve talked about them before. he feels even more pleased when you slightly step out from under the man’s arm. but then your next words have his expression darkening again.
“i was going to officially introduce him to you guys on your first day…i just wasn’t expecting it to be today,” you gently place your hand on johnny’s forearm. “this is johnny, my boyfriend.”
immediately, the boys recognise his name– how could they forget, when the name has never once left their subconscious since the moment he was mentioned. a fleeting thought enters hongjoong’s mind. if he had not pulled away that night– if he had kissed you instead of being a coward– would it be him standing by your side as your boyfriend right now?
and hongjoong is not alone in his thoughts. wooyoung’s teeth grit together as he wonders how different things may have turned out if only the older or he himself had been bolder with their feelings. if only any of them had plucked up the courage to make the first move. because you dating any of them would automatically put their heart infinitely more at ease than the literal fucking stranger who is standing by your side.
you’re about to tell your boyfriend the names of the eight boys in front of you when he raises an eyebrow at you, “you didn’t tell me your friends were all guys.” his tone isn’t accusatory, per se, but it’s definitely not cordial, either. this side of johnny is completely new to you.
seeing the flustered look on your face irks wooyoung in every way possible so he interrupts, “and why does it matter to you?”
johnny levels him with a look for several seconds before smiling placatingly. “you’ll understand when you get a girlfriend,” he dismisses.
immediately, there’s a palpable spike in tension. “sorry?” wooyoung scoffs.
san sets a firm hand on the back of wooyoung’s neck and you lowly murmur your boyfriend’s name– respectively scruffing the two men. you didn’t know what to expect introducing your friends and boyfriend to each other. but the start of what looks like it has the potential to turn into a fight was definitely not on the list.
in a lame attempt to change the topic, you comment, “you guys are here early this year.”
there’s a beat of silence that’s a split second longer than you deem comfortable and yunho clears his throat, “yeah…things ended up this way.”
the vague comment and pointed look in your boyfriend’s direction tells you that there’s more to it than they are letting you onto right now. you make a mental note to talk to them once johnny leaves…if he ends up leaving. but the heavy weight that is still draped around your shoulder shows no intention of removing itself.
even though your instinct is to run up to the boys and receive all the hugs you have missed, and their instinct is to pull you away from the unfamiliar man and back into the intimacy of their group, the arm around you is a stark reminder to everyone that you’re not single anymore– that there are now boundaries to respect. instead, your friends are left to shuffle awkwardly on the spot with wavering gazes as if they have caught you doing something they weren’t supposed to see.
“do you have classes today?” san dares to ask.
“not today. we were just…out,” you reply. on a date, it goes unsaid.
“well, we’re headed for the beach,” san hates the fact that he even has to ask his next sentence, “do you want to join us?”
looking at johnny, you hate the fact that your immediate answer isn’t to say yes. he glances at you and then answers on your behalf, “we’ll join. it’ll be nice for us to get to know each other, since it seems like we’ll be seeing each other often this summer.”
“not if you don’t show up,” wooyoung mutters under his breath, but he’s not really trying to be quiet about his disdain.
you fake a smile and push your boyfriend towards the entrance to your house. “we’ll get changed and then meet you guys down at the beach.” you don’t wait for an answer before shoving the front door open and shut again in quick succession behind you.
“wait here,” you tell johnny, “i’ll get you a spare pair of shorts,” then you disappear into your bedroom and let out a deep exhale, closing your eyes to clear your head.
you had spent the last few years embracing the changes in your relationship with san. every summer marked a change in your friendship group– a new chapter each year as you rewrote the group dynamics with additional people to love and be loved by.
this summer, like the others, also marks a change and beginning of a new chapter, but now you’re realising that not all chapters in a story will always be happy. instead, some chapters will mark the beginning of the complication.
it feels like an unusual mix between deja vu and an out-of-body experience as san straps the leash of his surfboard around his ankle. his gaze follows your form and he watches silently when you’re picked by the waist and tossed into the ocean. it looks all too familiar– except instead of him being the one who brings the laughter out of your squeals, it’s that annoyingly tall and irritatingly jacked dude that is your boyfriend.
san can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips as he peels his eyes away. if johnny makes you happy, then objectively, san wants nothing more for you. but he cannot help but feel that you are undeserving of anything less than the entire world; something he and his boys are willing to give to you. but life is all about timing and it seems like they’ve missed theirs.
he’s distracted by the sight of you and johnny in his peripheral vision, even as he paddles out into the deeper waters with yunho. the taller is uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes repeatedly flickering back and forth between you and mingi. mingi needed this trip more than any of them combined, but there’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of yunho’s stomach that’s telling him the appearance of your boyfriend is only just the beginning of a rocky summer.
regardless of their combined years of surfing experience, both yunho and san seem to continuously lose their balance on their boards today. and despite the saltiness of the sea water that flows into san’s mouth each time he falls– no longer the graceful choreographer of the sea– there’s a bitter taste on his tongue that he cannot get rid of no matter how many bottles of water he drinks over the rest of the day.
it follows him even when the sweet fragrance of fresh pastries and syrupy drinks permeates the air the moment he walks into the bakery you so adore after your group walks from the beach. san pulls the glass door open for you, wind chime tinkling softly overhead, and he has to resist the urge to let go of the door handle when your boyfriend also walks through without so much as a word or glance of gratitude.
before san walks up to the counter, he instinctively turns around to check your order before he adds it to his own like he has always done. “strawberry dacquoise and grapefruit ade?”
you’re about to nod when johnny steps into place beside you and asserts, “she likes the chocolate ones.”
san keeps his voice as even as he can and refutes, “no, y/n prefers the strawberry ones. i would know, considering we’ve been going to this cafe together since we were twelve.” he emphasises the last word, clearly telling the other that he is the one who has known you since you were young and therefore knows you the best out of anyone, boyfriend be damned.
not backing down, johnny turns to ask, “is that true, babe?”
you swallow uncomfortably, mouth suddenly dry. “i like both,” you evade.
but your lack of denial says more than enough and johnny’s frown deepens almost immediately. at his expression, you rush to amend, “i know you like the chocolate ones more. it makes me happy sharing them with you.”
“you should’ve told me,” johnny fusses. but opposed to disappointment at not having known your preference for strawberry, he seems more displeased at having discovered this fact through your male friend.
san notices how apologetic you start to feel and he absolutely despises how unfamiliar it looks on your face. if this is the type of boyfriend that he is giving you up to, then san is not prepared to let go of you at all.
“or maybe you should’ve noticed,” he shrugs nonchalantly in your boyfriend’s direction before smiling tenderly at you. “i’ll order your food. go find a seat with seong–”
johnny’s voice is heated when he interjects, “no, you won’t. i’ll pay for my girlfriend’s food.”
you’ve never heard him talk with this tone before, much less seen him act this way, but his words suddenly strike you with clarity and reasoning. with a relationship comes adherence to mutual boundaries and expectations, and although san is used to doting on you, the reality now is that johnny currently fulfills that role as your boyfriend.
“it’s alright, san. thank you,” you give your friend a soft smile. “johnny’s got it for me.”
san nods, defeated. your boyfriend gently nudges you in the direction of the tables, “go sit down. i’ll bring our order over when it’s ready.”
on edge, you walk to where some of the boys are already seated and slide in beside seonghwa, who has been watching the entire exchange silently. “y/n,” he starts.
you plaster on a smile, “it’s okay.”
seonghwa studies you carefully for a moment, then appears to make up his mind about something and returns your smile. except anybody can see that it doesn’t reach his eyes. “do you want to swap seats with me? that way you and johnny can sit on the same side.”
grateful for his thoughtfulness, you change seats and sit on his left just as wooyoung joins the table with an iced americano in his hand. he sets it down to drag a spare chair beside him, offhandedly commenting, “why are you even dating him? i don’t get what you see in him.”
he hisses when seonghwa kicks his shin from under the table, shaking his head, and you just give the younger a tight-lipped smile in response. you’re distracted by the buzz of your phone in your pocket. a quick glance downwards tells you that it’s a text from san.
sorry for putting you between your bf and i
you look up in surprise and find that he’s already gazing at you from where he’s waiting at the counter. his eyebrows knit together in apology and you shake your head, mouthing that it’s okay. san has always been the bigger person in any situation– with you, with friends and family, and even with people he doesn’t necessarily see eye to eye with.
your phone buzzes again, twice in succession, but this time the notifications aren’t from him. it’s johnny.
what’s his problem, god
wants to get into your pants or sth
your boyfriend continues to tap away at his phone, expression marred with poorly concealed irritation. but he doesn’t seem to be referring to your texting exchange with san– you don’t think he’s even noticed. instead, he’s still hooked on the ordering incident.
slipping the phone back into your pocket and pretending you have not noticed the messages yet, you simply wait for johnny to grab the tray with your pastries and drinks before he slides into the chair next to you. and for the first time since dating, you find yourself comparing your boyfriend not to san, but against him.
it feels like you have spent the last two months treading carefully on eggshells. there are days you spend with both johnny and the boys and it becomes clear to everyone pretty quickly that they’re not warming up to each other. despite your best efforts to bring them closer, there is unmistakable tension that underlies every interaction that they have and don’t have with one another.
then there are the days you spend with just your boyfriend. he doesn’t mention your friends and neither do you, but you notice the way his gaze flickers to your phone whenever it lights up with a notification. like a mutual taboo, he simply continues the conversation after a pause and you don’t point it out.
and then there are the rarer days that you spend with just the eight of your friends, like today– the ones that feel like the old summers that you have started to yearn. and yet, even with the familiar essence of the past, you start to notice them. the subtle differences.
it’s not obvious at first. the casual displays of affection that have extended beyond habitual touches and have just become who they are are still there. but there’s something about the attentiveness with which seonghwa dusts the powdered sugar off of yeosang’s cheeks when he’s eating. or in the naturalness with which wooyoung moulds himself into san’s side when they sit on the couch. something in the way mingi’s entire body relaxes whenever yunho gently thumbs the nape of his neck, and in the softening of hongjoong’s eyes when jongho speaks up in conversation.
maybe it’s because you find yourself no longer a part of their shared love, regardless of how platonic it may be between you and the boys. ultimately, it’s easier to notice things when you’re watching on as what feels like an outsider. and it makes sense that the dynamics of your friendship would change, considering how deeply embedded physical affection is within your group and the fact that you now have a boyfriend, but there’s something more to their interactions– you’re sure of it. you just can’t put your finger on what exactly.
it’s that thought that reminds you of yunho’s words when he and the rest of your friends had turned up a week before the start of summer. “what did you mean about things having ended up this way when you guys came down to namhae early?” you suddenly ask, eyes looking away from the television screen where the round of their game has just ended. “and wasn’t there something else you guys had wanted to tell me about?”
clearly not having expected your questions, yunho blinks as he formulates a response, “yeah, there is. just–maybe talk to mingi first. you’ll probably want to hear it directly from him.”
and hongjoong needs to talk to you first, too, yunho thinks to himself. except, he wonders whether there is even a point to it anymore.
your heart sinks at yunho’s words because you have a feeling it has to do with mingi’s parents. and his parents are never good news. right at that moment, mingi emerges through the doorway after his shower, a towel draped over his shoulders as he uses its ends to roughly dry his hair. he stops in his tracks when he notices you and yunho staring at him.
“i know i’m hot but you don’t have to make it that obvious,” he jokes.
you snort and shake your head, getting up to your feet and walking over to him as yunho watches knowingly. “come sit outside with me for a bit?” you ask mingi.
he agrees, pulling the towel off and tossing it onto the back of a chair to dry. you catch a whiff of san’s shampoo when he moves, the fragrance of cedarwood and bergamot that all the boys end up being scented with each summer filling your nose.
the two of you sit on the embankment just outside san’s house, legs dangling off the edge of the port. you can just barely toe the start of the sand but mingi easily shuffles his feet in it, drawing lazy patterns in your company. after a few minutes of peaceful silence, he nudges you gently albeit playfully, “did you want to ask me something?”
you chuckle at having been exposed and nudge him back in response. he never budges, torso bigger and more muscular than you can move, but it doesn’t stop you from trying and him from laughing endearingly.
“i asked yunho why you guys came down earlier this summer and he said to ask you,” you peer at him, treading carefully with your next words, “is everything okay?”
he takes a breath, exhaling long and slow. “i came out to my parents,” he reveals. “told them i’m bi and…they didn’t take it well.”
mingi doesn’t need to elaborate for you to understand that his parents didn’t just ‘not take it well’. you can only imagine the hell that broke loose. “oh, mingi,” you sigh, eyebrows knitting together with hurt.
“i also told them that i’m dati–”
the sound of the door opening and the call of your name stops mingi from finishing his sentence. it’s yunho with a ringing phone in his hand. “you might want to take this call,” he alerts you.
frowning, you make a stand to reach for your phone, asking, “who is it?”
he glances down awkwardly at the screen that is still on. “your boyfriend.”
you’re just about to slide the answer button when the call disconnects and you see that including the one that has just ended, you have four missed calls.
“oh, shit,” you can’t help the curse that slips out of your mouth. four missed calls is never a good sign from anybody, much less your boyfriend, who has also sent you several texts asking where you are.
seeing the darkening of your expression, yunho misses the girl whose biggest worry was the number of ice cream scoops to scam hongjoong out of. he misses the girl whose smile was brighter than the reflected sun on san’s surfboard. most of all, yunho misses the girl he has fallen in love with.
“y/n, i’m going to be honest with you,” he hesitates slightly. “i don’t think he’s the right one for you.”
you know that yunho’s looking out for you and his heart is in the right place, but it’s not what you want to– or need to hear right now. and perhaps, there’s an inkling of you that already knows. still, you try to keep your voice even when you reply, “i’d know if he’s not.”
you turn to mingi next and shoot him an apologetic look, “i’m sorry but i should probably call him back. we’ll talk later, yeah?”
mingi doesn’t know when later will be and neither do you. but he simply nods and lets you go, watching dejectedly as your form disappears back into your house at the same time san steps out of his. he had been carefully observing from the window the moment yunho had walked out with your incessantly ringing phone in his hand.
“guess he takes priority over us now,” mingi sighs.
san looks at him bittersweetly, “that’s what happens when you find somebody you love. like johnny is her priority, you are my priority and yunho’s. in fact, you’re the priority of five other people as well.” despite the fact that he is shorter, san still reaches up to flick mingi’s nose affectionately as he fondly states, “aren’t you lucky.”
mingi scrunches his nose in retaliation and san diverts the topic, “now come on, are you going to just stand back and let yunho win the game again?”
the younger grins, light returning to his eyes as he cheekily suggests, “you distract him while i cheat?”
“i’m right here,” yunho protests, but he’s shaking his head dotingly. together, he and mingi make their way back into the house, hands finding each other as they pass through the threshold.
san lingers behind and stares at the closed door of your house. for the longest time, you have been one of san’s priorities, if not the priority. over the last few years, the number of his priorities have steadily grown and you now share the top of the list in his heart with seven other boys. your happiness is san’s priority, as is the happiness of the others.
but what happens when interests start to conflict and your boyfriend– and by association, you– becomes a reason for unhappiness amongst the people he cares so dearly for? what happens if there comes a day where he must choose between his priorities and push somebody down the list, or worse…completely out of his heart?
you’re just as troubled when, half an hour after his missed calls and your subsequent response asking to meet up, you and johnny aimlessly wander the streets of the neighbourhood. the air is tense and despite the cry of cicadas, the silence from the lack of conversation is the only sound that you can hear. you can tell that he’s displeased by the fact that you had been with your friends, but you’re not exactly happy with him right now either.
you know an argument’s brewing– one that has been long coming, perhaps since the start of summer. you could have chosen to take the night to cool down, but it will eventually boil over one day, be it him or yourself. better to address it now than wait until it’s too late, and perhaps you can salvage it before it does boil over.
“why did you call me so many times?”
johnny knows you’re not only asking about tonight, and definitely not only about his phone calls. and yet, your tone is not accusatory, only genuinely curious and open to understanding his reasoning and emotions. solely because he feels guilt starting to prick his insides at your question does he make an attempt to reign in his childish jealousy that has reared its head so many times in the last two months.
“i didn’t know where you were,” he halfheartedly answers. “i thought something had happened.”
you both know it’s a lie– a pretty bad one at that. you had texted him just mere hours ago telling him that you would be at san’s. at his excuse, you raise an eyebrow.
“i don’t like the way they look at you,” johnny finally admits, partially showing his true colours. “especially san.”
you had guessed just as much and you can see why he might feel that way, but you want him to see where you’re coming from, too. “we grew up together, johnny. we’re each other’s best friend and he doesn’t like me like that.”
warm breath ghosting over your lips and then disappearing just as fast flits across your memory. “none of them do,” you emphasise. “and i’ve been transparent about hanging out with them when you’re not there, haven’t i? i literally texted you a few hours ago.”
he hesitates, “i was busy playing basketball with my friends. i missed your text and then you didn’t reply or answer my calls…” the way his voice drops off the more he talks is a good indicator that he knows the patheticness of his justification.
“and i was busy with my friends, too,” you reason. “you’re not glued to your phone, and neither am i.”
you continue when he stays silent, “you’re my boyfriend and i understand that it can make you feel uneasy when i hang out with so many guys, but you have to understand that they’re my friends, and my closest ones too. i would appreciate it if you give me more space when i’m with them, but i’ll also try to make sure i’m reachable on my phone so you have a piece of mind.”
you look at him and search his eyes for any indicators that he has more to say. from the way his jaw clenches subtly, you know that he’s disgruntled at best. but to your surprise he does not protest, instead nodding and walking you back to your house. you can’t tell whether the silence this time is slightly better or just as suffocating.
when you reach your front door, the lights are still on in the neighbouring house and you can hear the muted ruckus of laughter. as you unlock your door and pull it open, your boyfriend surprises you once more by calling out, “i love you.”
you learn a lot about a person simply from the things that they say, and sometimes–
“i know,” you reply gently, before shutting the door.
–you learn even more about a person simply from the things that they don’t say.
it’s two weeks after your conversation with johnny when he runs into some of the boys at one of the beachside cafes without your presence.
with autumn just around the corner, you’re spending the day transitioning the rice seedlings, now almost at the height of your thighs, from the wet paddies to the drier fields since your parents aren’t in namhae to do it. only mingi, yunho and jongho are helping you out; you had discovered the hard way last summer that letting all eight of them help you was, in fact, counterproductive when there were more plants being trampled on than safely moved.
and so while the four of you are working in the rice paddy, the remaining boys sit on the cafe terrace that overlooks the beach about a ten-minute drive from your and san’s houses. a hush suddenly falls over their conversation, elbows inconspicuously nudging one another and shoulders tensing when they spot your boyfriend making his way towards the cafe with a small group of his own friends.
a smirk graces johnny’s lips when his gaze falls upon the five of your friends, ignoring the courteous nod of acknowledgement that seonghwa attempts to make on their behalf and instead walking closer onto the cafe’s terrace. it’s not clearly audible, but it’s definitely direct enough for the boys to make out the words when johnny walks past and mutters, “fuckin’ pussies.”
wooyoung immediately reacts. “what the fuck did you just say?” he growls threateningly as seonghwa squeezes his thigh in anticipation of him standing up.
johnny pauses to look at them with faux innocence, “i wasn’t talking to you guys, but i guess if you’re offended–”
it’s hongjoong who rises to his feet first, chair screeching as it slides out from under his knees along the wooden deck. “you say one more fucking word,” he starts, eyes thunderous and fists turning white at his sides.
“and you’ll what,” johnny sneers, “run to my girlfriend crying? ask her to have a little talk with me?”
at the mention of you, both san and wooyoung join hongjoong on their feet. “watch what you say,” san looks at him dangerously. “don’t bring y/n into this.”
the commotion is starting to attract the attention of the staff and other customers in the cafe. seonghwa slowly stands, preparing to step in before it can escalate into something physical as yeosang grips the seat of his chair.
johnny steps closer and scoffs, “that’s bullshit. you guys can’t even take care of your own feelings so you have to hide behind my girlfriend like a bunch of pathetic losers. it makes no fucking sense for her to ask me to leave her alone when she’s with you guys.”
“and i bet it’s never fucking crossed your mind that maybe it’s an issue with something you’re doing–not us,” wooyoung reciprocates with his own bold step closer.
he’s suddenly jerked forward when johnny fists the front of his shirt and instantly everyone moves in towards the two. seonghwa wedges his arms against their chests to prevent wooyoung from getting dragged further forward, though the younger is fiercely standing his ground, teeth bared and eyes murderous. save for yeosang, who comes to stand protectively behind him, the remaining two boys are swept up into the beginnings of a scuffle as johnny’s friends step in as well.
“look at you, all riled up,” johnny goads, ignoring the hands that are trying to keep him subdued. “and she tells me that you don’t all want to fuck her?”
seonghwa inhales sharply as he attempts to overpower both wooyoung and hongjoong, who is now extremely determined to connect his fist with your boyfriend’s face. but to many of their infuriation, the fist doesn’t get a chance to hit its well-deserved target when there’s a firm shout over the commotion.
the cafe manager harshly warns, “we’re going to have to ask you all to leave the premises, otherwise we’re going to call the police.”
“wooyoung! hongjoong!” seonghwa hisses. “it’s not worth the trouble. stop!”
there are a few tense seconds of heaving chests and grinding jaws before johnny lets wooyoung go with a shove and hongjoong begrudgingly and slowly lowers his raised fist.
“you bitches got lucky this time,” johnny glowers. he beckons to his friends with a jerk of his head, still glaring at wooyoung, then kicks a chair out of his way as he leaves the cafe. in the wake of the confrontation, seonghwa turns to look at the manager and creases his eyebrows in apology, bowing multiple times to the other employees and customers too.
the manager nods wryly, “you and your friends are still going to have to leave.”
“we understand,” seonghwa replies, beginning to usher hongjoong and wooyoung towards the exit. “we’re truly sorry.”
as the five of them walk out, his eyes dart around anxiously in case your boyfriend and his friends are still lingering around. muscles taut and on edge, seonghwa makes a decision as the oldest. “let’s go home,” he declares, “we can wait there.”
they pile into the jeep wordlessly and san turns on the ignition, pulling out of the small car park and heading back to his. they’re only a few minutes away when wooyoung breaks the silence, “so who’s gonna tell y/n that her boyfriend’s a fucking asshole and that she needs to break up with his sorry ass?” he fumes. “because if no one’s going to do it, then i’m going to tell her the moment we get home.”
“wooyoung,” seonghwa starts.
“no, don’t wooyoung me,” he snaps. “he’s a fucking pretentious dickhead and she needs to know that. i don’t even care if we don’t ever get to talk about that other thing with her anymore. all i care is that he never gets to show his face in front of her ever again.”
seonghwa rubs his temples in frustration. he argues, “look, i agree with you and i’m not saying we shouldn’t tell y/n. but we need to put our feelings aside and think about this rationally, otherwise we could end up hurting her.”
“i think she’s going to get hurt regardless of how we approach it,” hongjoong snarks as the other levels him with a look.
“the campfire night is only a few days away,” yeosang points out. “maybe we should wait until that’s over…you know how excited she and mingi get about it each year.”
hongjoong protests, “and wait for her to bring johnny along on the day? sorry, but not even seonghwa is going to be able to stop me from sucker-punching him to the ground.”
“surely she’s not going to bring him. it’s a day just for us,” yeosang frowns.
san feels their questioning gazes settling on him and he glances in the rearview mirror to confirm his hunch. “i don’t know, probably not?” he answers whilst shrugging, turning into the small street that leads to your house. “but honestly? i think we should wait until after that day to talk to her. i don’t see the point in ruining it for any more of us.”
seonghwa agrees and adds on, “and only one of us should have the conversation with her. san, you’re probably the best person out of us.”
san hums in agreement, slowly braking the car to a stop before he turns in his seat to look at the rest of them. “i’ll find a time to talk to her and in the meantime,” he looks at wooyoung and hongjoong gently, knowing how frustrated they must be feeling, “we wait.”
there’s only a few more days until the campfire– they only need to hold out for a little longer until then. what could possibly go wrong?
“are you sure it’s a good idea to leave hongjoong and y/n to get the snacks together?”
seonghwa tenderly thumbs yeosang’s lips from out of his teeth, where he has been biting the corner of his lips in worry, and answers, “he’s hopeless at buying all the other things and she knows what snacks we like the best.” seonghwa knows hongjoong’s way of being confrontational is stark and direct, but he also has faith in the other that he won’t prematurely bring up your boyfriend and risk hurting you with the conversation.
you make your way down the snack aisles of the grocery store with hongjoong and it feels both familiar and foreign. there are no shopping cart races or invisible finish flags this time– only the two of you and the baskets in his hands as he carries whatever you pluck off the shelves. it’s been a while since you’ve had time alone with hongjoong; not since the incident last summer.
looking down at the shopping baskets, you put another packet of banana crisps in before commenting, “let’s get some sweet things and then that should be enough for the ten of us.”
hongjoong cocks his head, “haneul’s coming?”
“...no,” you look at him carefully, “johnny is.”
“johnny? you’re joking.”
you frown at the sudden coldness in his tone, “he’s my boyfriend, hongjoong.” johnny had been strangely adamant about going today and you had also noticed he seemed to be irritated about something. so quite frankly, you weren’t about to tell him no.
“and he’s also an asshole, you know that? why are you even dating him?”
you know your boyfriend and your friends still aren’t on amicable terms, but you’re honestly getting tired of feeling like you have to justify yourself and your dating life. and considering you have just had a talk with johnny to try and make things better for everyone, you can’t help but feel like you are being pushed into a corner yet again.
“asshole or not, at least he’s honest about his feelings for me,” you retort pointedly.
“oh?” hongjoong scoffs in disbelief, “is that what this is about?”
you challenge him with a glare, “what do you think i’m implying?”
“so i’m the bad guy now? i thought you liked me. since when did you stoop so low as to throw yourself at any guy who makes a move on you?”
your jaw drops. “you know what? what the fuck is your problem?” you shove his chest in anger. “let’s not forget that you were the one who tried to kiss me first and you were the one who also stopped. yeah, i did like you, but at least i’m willing to admit it.”
you step in closer, breathing heavy as you continue heatedly, “what about you? what the fuck have you done that makes you think you have any right to say that my decisions are wrong.”
hongjoong grits his teeth, “you’re making a mistake dating him.”
“yeah, you would know something about mistakes,” you throw back sarcastically. “but then again, you were probably happy to pretend it never happened and forget about it.”
“don’t fucking put words into my mouth,” he warns.
“it seems to be the only way i can get you to talk about us. you have no issues giving me shit about my relationship with my boyfriend, but when it comes to our relationship it’s radio silence for a year.”
hongjoong at least has the decency to look guilty when he declares, “i was going to talk to you about it face to face.”
“whatever, hongjoong. it’s too late,” you brush him off.
you snatch the baskets out his hands and walk away, no longer concerned over what snacks the boys will have for the campfire later tonight. you just want to get away from hongjoong, so you do exactly that. you leave him alone in the aisle to stare at the view of your back walking further away from him. life is all about timing and hongjoong has long missed his.
hours later, mingi scans the room from where he’s perched on a stool at the kitchen island in your house. everyone is either lounging around, preparing the meat and cutlery or setting up the grill and table outside– everyone except for one.
“where’s hongjoong?” he asks nobody in particular. he doesn’t think he’s seen the other since they’ve all come back from the grocery store.
“he’s resting in my room,” san answers. “said he wasn’t feeling too well but he’ll join us later.”
you roll your eyes at the knives you’re counting out, opting to keep your mouth shut. what san doesn’t say either, though, is that he knows something is off– hongjoong was completely fine this morning and you were definitely in higher spirits.
there’s an abrupt knock at your front door and you put the cutlery down, saying, “i’ll get it.” you know it’s probably johnny so you don’t bother squinting through the peephole before pulling the door open and blinking, “you look nice today.”
your boyfriend has styled his hair so that it slicks back from his forehead, parted down the right side of his scalp. he’s dressed in his usual smart casual fit but has chosen to pair it with accessories to accentuate his collarbones and wrists. he shrugs, “wanted to look good.”
you lead him to the open kitchen and immediately, you notice the shift in the air. a few of the boys give a tight-lipped smile in acknowledgement, but the expressions on wooyoung and san, and even yeosang and seonghwa go blank or two shades darker. hongjoong’s uncharacteristic cold feet suddenly makes a lot of sense to san now.
“you invited johnny?” san’s question is eerily monotone. a blunt knife may not be able to cut through rope, but with continuous abrasion and chafing, even the thickest of ropes will eventually sever.
your voice is not entirely friendly when you reply, “yes, san. i invited my boyfriend.”
“and why the fuck did you do that?”
san’s swearing has you reeling in surprise, but it’s quickly replaced by pent-up stress and anger that has been lingering for weeks and exacerbated by your argument with hongjoong mere hours ago. your entire body starts to heat up when san continues to criticise, “we’ve put up with him for long enough, don’t you think? it’s one thing for you to date him of all people, but it’s another thing to bring him to this.”
you laugh bitingly, no longer concerned about trying to deal with this maturely. all you can think about is how san is hurting you and how you want to hurt him back too. “so you can bring whoever the fuck you want each year, but i can’t bring my own boyfriend?” you retort.
the silence is deafening. nobody moves as they try to process the words that have just been thrown at them. yunho’s eyes are wide with confusion more than hurt at how quickly this argument has escalated, and he slowly raises his arms out in front of him, “okay, i think we all need to–”
“whoever the fuck–are we just ‘whoever’ to you?” wooyoung harshly interrupts. “we’ve been trying to look out for you and this is what we fucking get in return?”
you know that you won’t be able to take your words back after you say them, but they slip out anyway as you counter, “i didn’t ask any of you to look out for me.”
yunho’s arms fall limply to his sides and seonghwa looks away. wooyoung’s words are resigned and stony when he stares at you dead in the eye and says, “you know, y/n. we needed this trip this summer…more than anything. but thanks for ruining it for all of us.” then he brushes past your shoulder and slams the front door on his way out.
one by one, the boys follow him out of your house– first yeosang, then seonghwa, neither of them able to look you in the eye. when yunho and jongho hesitantly walk past you as well, they give you a small, apologetic wince.
mingi still stands in the room. he has been quiet throughout the entire argument but his eyes tell a story of a million words. he’s filled with hurt and sorrow if not obvious by the wetness that starts to well in his eyes. “i guess you were just saying it when you told me i have a home here with you in namhae,” he chokes out.
your own eyes grow hot as you shake your head, “mingi, that’s not–”
but he leaves before you can say anything else. turning back towards the interior of your house– now looking far too spacious and vast without one of your friends occupying every available surface– you are left alone with just san and johnny. the heat of the fight is quickly slipping away, instead rushing all towards your eyes, and you call out san’s name. what for, you don’t know, but your cry is timid and desperate.
as much as it pains san to make a decision, mingi needs him– his boys need him, and they are his priority now. right there and then, san discovers for himself his final answer when it comes to choosing between love and friendship. he walks out of your house, turning his back on you.
you jolt awake feeling disorientated. your head feels clouded, eyes blurry from swelling and you’re still in the clothes from last night that you don’t recall falling asleep in. reaching for your phone, you wonder whether it has already ticked past noon for you to have woken up on your own, except you find that its dead. you roll over with a groan and plug your phone into its charger, then haul yourself upwards.
you rinse the stale taste out of your mouth before walking out to the living room and immediately, you’re hit with the memories and intense emotions of last night. there are packets of raw meat still unopened and bottles of soju still littering the table that you hadn’t tidied up. in the aftermath of the argument, you had told johnny to give you some space and to go home. you had then gone straight to your bedroom, covering yourself with the blankets in an attempt to hide yourself from the world and cried out your sorrows until you exhausted yourself to sleep.
you let out a long and heavy sigh, soul still exhausted to the very core, so you turn back towards your bedroom. you’ll clean everything up when you’re feeling a little more confident to face the consequences of last night. sitting on the edge of your bed, you reach for your phone. there are a few texts from johnny that you scroll past when something else catches your eye.
it’s a text from jongho, timestamped for 1:17 am. you and the boys rarely have a reason to message each other individually, preferring to use the group chat since there are no secrets shared. although, you suppose, none of you will be using the group chat for a while…
you tap on jongho’s notification. instantly, your heart drops all the way to the bottom of your stomach and past it. you think your heart is down in the fucking ground, because–
hey, wasn’t sure if you’d want to know or not
but i think we’re going back to seoul in the morning
the numbers in the corner of your phone tell you that it’s already eleven thirty, and that’s when you hear it– the noise that had woken you up earlier. the distinct slam of a car boot closing shut. you jolt up to your feet, panic coursing through your veins as blood rushes to your ears and drowns out all rational thoughts. you forgo any shoes and throw your front door open to run outside, uncaring of the grit that digs painfully into the soles of your feet.
a brief flash of relief flickers across jongho’s face at your appearance but you miss it in your frenzy to make sense of what you are seeing. all three of their cars are parked in a line, their surfboards already strapped and secured to the car hoods or in the bed of the ute. the last of their luggage and duffel bags are being loaded and san is locking his front door.
every summer, the boys wait until the last possible second to leave, to the point where you have to forcibly push them towards their cars with fond laughter. it’s only thursday today and summer doesn’t end for another three days, and yet–
“you guys are leaving?” you ask apprehensively.
nobody answers you immediately. the only sound that punctuates the silence is the forceful slam of a door as wooyoung enters the car. hongjoong accidentally makes eye contact with you and his eyes narrow before he opens the door to his ute and also disappears.
jongho clears his throat awkwardly, “yeah, we’re heading back early.”
“oh…” you’re at a loss for words, unsure of how to react to this situation. “drive safe.”
like a parallel of last night, the boys enter their respective cars one by one, jongho giving you a subtle wave. guilt stifles you for the things you have said to the boys and you’re also consumed by hurt from the things they have said to you. but you know for certain that you cannot just let this friendship fall through the cracks like this.
as san makes his way to his jeep, which is parked at the front of the line as the lead driver, you watch carefully for any sign that things are still salvageable for your friendship. a smile, a glance, a nod– anything. but he simply pulls his jeep door open like you are invisible.
you hesitantly ask him, “i’ll see you next summer?”
san is expressionless but he may as well be glaring at you when he replies, “don’t count on it,” and for the second time of your life, he turns his back on you.
as san buckles his seatbelt in, trying his goddamn hardest to pretend he doesn’t see the tears now beginning to fall from your eyes, he tells himself that you’ve made your decision and he’s made his. he has chosen his priorities and will give you up, and yet, still he hopes that one day you’ll realise you deserve better and break up with johnny. san hopes that you’ll come across somebody more than better, even if it cannot be him.
before yunho also gets into the jeep, he pauses in front of you. he fists the sides of his pants to stop himself from reaching out to wipe your tears away. instead, he consoles, “i think we all just need a little bit of time, yeah?”
you nod numbly at his words. you’re forced to take several steps back out of the way after yunho also shuts his door closed and the engines hum to life in succession. unable to do anything, you can only watch helplessly as san’s jeep starts to pull away and the other two cars also follow.
“they’re finally leaving, huh.”
there’s only one person who would have amusement laced into those words. refusing to turn around in your state, you exhale shakily, “not now, johnny.”
“you honestly need better friends. everyone has a stick up their ass in that group,” he comments.
“i said not now,” you warn again, blinking the rest of your tears away when you feel anger creeping up in its stead.
“i should’ve just punched them when i had the chance to.”
you whip around to face him and yell, absolutely appalled, “johnny!”
“what?” he scowls. “they were the ones who started it.”
you grow deathly still. “started what?” you interrogate, and when he doesn’t let up, you step in closer. “johnny?”
“look, i ran into some of them the other day. that little fucker–wooyoung? he was basically asking to be punched. he’s lucky i let him off the hook,” he sneers.
you’ve known wooyoung longer than you have known johnny and you honestly find your boyfriend’s recount hard to believe. yes, wooyoung is hot-headed and rash, but he never reacts unless he has been provoked. or in other cases, his loved ones have been provoked.
“don’t you fucking dare call my friends fuckers,” you growl. is this who your boyfriend truly is? is this the person who your friends have been able to see through all this time?
“are you fucking serious right now?” johnny spits in your face, “you’re defending them? you always take their fucking side even though i’m your boyfriend.”
you spit right back, “and you know what? that was my biggest mistake. i should have never made you my boyfriend.”
johnny’s expression drops entirely. “are you breaking up with me right now?”
“yes, i am.” you confirm. “we’re over.”
you turn on your heel and for once, you are glad that he has shown up at your house, because it means you are a mere ten feet away from shutting your now-ex out of your life. you fumble with the door, vision rapidly blurring, then walk through and close it behind you. slowly, you lean back against the door. with nothing grounding you anymore, the tears escape your eyes once more and you don’t bother trying to hold back your cries.
all too fast, everything has come to a full circle of hurt. johnny turned his back on your friends, your friends turned their backs on you, and you have now turned your back on johnny. your chest shudders and heaves at the realisation, wondering where it all went wrong.
you want to seek out one of the boys for comfort– seonghwa or san– but you only end up dropping to your hands and knees, head dizzy from how hard you begin to sob, when you realise that that’s no longer an option. you all need time apart, both yourself and the boys. you know. but it’s much easier for them because they are going back to seoul together as their group of eight. they still have each other to lean on for comfort, whereas you are left behind to nurse your own wounds by yourself.
in the quiet of your house with the end of summer approaching in namhae, for the first time since meeting san, you are truly alone. it no longer feels like the nine of you against the world and whatever it may bring. instead, it’s you against the world…and the eight of them.
haneul takes all but one look at you before she’s making herself comfortable on your couch, tugging a cushion into her lap and patting the space beside her with a commanding air of authority. her expression tells you that there’s no room for argument, so you sink into the couch next to her.
the bewilderment must be obvious on your face when she asks you to spill what happened with san, because she simply reveals, “san messaged the family chat when he arrived back in seoul. and we all know he would give up surfing before voluntarily leaving namhae early.”
you slouch in on yourself, “we fought.”
as surprising as it is to hear, since she’s never seen you and san argue before, haneul had an inkling that that was the case after her little brother’s vague reasons. she probes, “about what?”
you tell her about everything. how you started dating johnny, how the boys came early for the summer and how you tried to get them on friendly terms. how your friends were constantly telling you to break up with him and how your boyfriend was always unhappy about you spending time with them. you tell her about the near-kiss with hongjoong last summer and the confrontation you had with him this summer. the argument you had with all the boys and the break up with johnny. everything.
haneul’s quiet for a while as she tries to piece together your story and her own thoughts. “did they ever tell you why they were so against you dating him?” she finally questions.
you shake your head and she asks, “then did you try talking to them about it?”
you slowly shake your head again, slightly ashamed by your own answer. you had been so focused on finding fault in the different ways the boys could have expressed their disapproval regarding your boyfriend that you didn’t think of the multiple opportunities you had to work out why those opinions existed in the first place.
“what do you think of it all, then? obviously, you would have broken up with johnny for a reason–or did the criticism from the boys just become too much?
fiddling with the hem of your shirt, you look down at your lap. “he was a decent guy…up until summer and the boys came over. that’s when he started acting differently and,” you pause, trying to find a nicer phrase before giving up and settling on, “became an asshole.”
she nods, waiting as you elaborate, “he became more overbearing and possessive, especially when i was hanging out with them when he wasn’t present. and he was just always so pissed. he was dead serious about getting into a physical fight with wooyoung. and we both know that none of the boys would ever start a fight for no reason, much less a fistfight, so johnny had to be the instigator.”
the way that you are solely picking out the faults of your ex does not go unnoticed by haneul. “y/n,” she stares at you seriously. “are you upset about your break up, or your argument with the boys?”
her question stuns you because it’s quite obviously both, but she stops your reflexive response with the instruction, “think about it before you answer me.”
you close your mouth and look at your lap again to actually process your own thoughts and feelings. what are you thinking and feeling? johnny…you had sort of known already that he would not be a constant in your life for much longer. from the moment you had started comparing him against the other boys, it was already the beginning of the end.
but san and the others? they are and have been the sun to your solar system for years; your providers of vitality, warmth and summer who you cannot live without. there’s a constant, gravitational pull that keeps you all together, except the balance has now been thrown off entirely. you realise what the answer was all along and you quietly admit, “the argument.”
she places a hand over yours, comfortingly stroking your knuckles as she sympathises, “i think so too.”
promptly, you feel your eyes pricking with the sting of tears and in a moment of fragile vulnerability, you plead to haneul in a shaky voice, “what am i going to do without them?”
“come here,” she whispers.
she pulls you into her, your body immediately going slack in her embrace. you cling onto her like a lifeline, afraid that you are going to drown in your cries of anguish. you don’t know how long you stay buried in her chest grieving for the friendships you have lost, but your neck and back are sore with stiffness by the time you calm down. still, she doesn’t let go of you– not until you make the first move to pull away.
haneul continues to stroke your hair, soft shushing noises as she rocks you back and forth with her. when your shuddering breaths have resided and steadied out, she breaks the silence softly, “y/n, i think there’s more to your heartache and regret than just feeling like you’ve lost your closest friends.”
your throat is scratchy when you mumble, “what do you mean?”
“i can’t tell you because that’s something that you’re going to have to work out for yourself. but after you figure out your own feelings, talk to them. communication is the first step to solving any problem, and i think you’ve realised just how much miscommunication could have been avoided leading up to the argument.”
you know she’s right, but your chest shrivels up on itself in fear. “what if they don’t answer my messages or calls? what if they really don’t come back next summer?” what if they hate me forever?
haneul rests her cheek on the crown of her head, “if they take a step back, then why don’t you take two steps forward?”
her words slowly sink in and when they do, you inch out of her embrace. haneul cannot help the smile that adorns her own face in tandem with the one that starts to peek out along your lips. your face is still red and blotchy but there is now a ray of emerging hope as your voice trails off, “you mean…”
“yes, y/n,” haneul nods. you feel goosebumps spreading across your body when she affirms your thoughts.
“go to seoul and talk to them.”
summer passes and autumn comes. the days grow shorter as the nights become longer and the weeks blur into a haze of monochrome darkness. the leaves and flowers fall off the trees, nature gradually stagnating and waning into nonexistence, much like the groupchat you share with the boys that has remained untouched since summer.
in a feverish state of resolution the very same day you had cried in haneul’s arms, you had booked an express bus trip that would take you directly from namhae to seoul. yet, despite telling yourself every weekend that you’ll make the trip, the ticket remains unused. whenever you see your last message to san– a meek question asking if he had arrived back in seoul fine– that continues to stay unread, your courage crumples and you reschedule the date for the following weekend.
the cycle repeats itself well into autumn. that is, until he breaks it.
you’ve spent the last few days thinking about this very moment. there are only a few minutes left until midnight, which will mark the end of jongho’s birthday. you’re unable to count the number of times you have opened his chat, typed out a message, then exited without actually sending it.
currently, the text cursor in jongho’s chat blinks back at you like your own indecisiveness wavering back and forth between messaging him and not. the minute ticks over once more– it’s now or never. you let your thumbs skim across the surface of your phone before you can contemplate any further. it’s a simple message; only reading two lines.
happy birthday jongho
how have you been?
really, you mean ‘how have you all been?’ because you cannot care about one of them without also caring about the others.
you lock the screen and toss your phone to the side, pretending you don’t care whether he replies or not, as if your phone is capable of sensing anxiousness and will sabotage his incoming messages– that is, if any come at all. but jongho’s last messages to you had been the ones alerting you that he and the boys would be leaving namhae prematurely. surely an indicator that this friendship isn’t entirely lost.
the lecture slides on your laptop may as well be written in a foreign language as you restlessly eye your phone, wondering if he has seen your messages. you know it will be fruitless to continue studying, so you steel yourself for disappointment and reach for your phone. to your surprise, there’s a reply waiting for you.
thanks y/n, i’ve been good
it’s simple and only five words, but that in itself speaks volumes to your relationship. your heart skips a beat when the messages in his chat shift upwards once more as a new text comes in like an afterthought.
i miss you
really, jongho means ‘we all miss you’ because you can be angry at someone, feel hurt by them, yet still love them all the same.
his confession stuns you frozen, your fingers hovering in place over your keyboard. it fills you with longing for more and hope for what may come, but also fear for what could happen. jongho has taken a small step to meet you halfway and you are absolutely terrified of messing things up once more. with your heart pounding in your chest, you carefully type out your next message, send it and then hold your breath.
can we call?
your fingers repetitively trace the rim of your phone case back and forth as you wait for a reply. there’s a rising swell of panic that continues to grow when nothing comes and you even exit and reopen the app. what you don’t know is that jongho almost trips onto his face in his hurry to untangle his legs from out of his blanket so that he can lock himself in the bathroom to call you without waking the others.
the phone nearly falls out of your grasp when the screen suddenly lights up not with a message but a call. you let it ring for a few seconds to gather your own composure before sliding the button to nervously answer, “hello?”
“hello?” comes jongho’s reply.
your voices overlap as you both simultaneously talk, “can you hear me–” “hi–yes, can you hear me?”
“yeah, i can hear you too, hi,” you breathe out, face breaking out into a smile.
the exchange has jongho letting out a giggle and the sound immediately releases all the tension that has built up in your body. your eyes start to mist over as you let out your own bashful laughter, because it is so much more than just missing the sound of jongho’s happiness. you’re reminded of crashing waves and windswept fringes; heavy surfboards and helping hands– the summer days when everything was happier and simpler. how did everything end up the way it has?
“thank you for replying to my message, jongho,” your voice is unsteady.
he must hear the way your throat threatens to close in on itself, because his voice is warm-hearted when he tells you, “no, thank you for reaching out first.” and as much as he finds it difficult to express himself, his next words spill out easily. “sorry i didn’t do it first…it must have been hard for you all this time.”
and just like that, so comes the first of many owed apologies. it doesn’t matter that you have to be awake in five hours to make it to your first lecture, nor that you don’t have a perfected script for all the things you want to apologise for. and it doesn’t matter that jongho is starting to feel cold sitting on the bathroom floor, nor that he can’t hold you like he wants to do. what does matter is that you’re both talking again.
as the night grows older, the conversation eventually flows away from raw confessions of your hearts to familiar topics of your mundane lives. it feels like the normal phone calls you used to have with the boys, except this time it’s only with jongho.
“what about you? have you been busy?”
you nod, even though he can’t see you over the call, “i’m trying to keep up with classes but it’s hard with all the assignments due soon.”
“yeah, i have another huge film project and it’s taking up all of my time, too,” he exhales, then tentatively asks, “what about…how’re things with johnny?”
it’s strangely exciting to clarify, “we actually broke up a few months ago.”
you can hear jongho’s sharp inhale even from over the phone. the conspiratorial tone of his voice painfully reminds you of wooyoung’s nosiness as jongho asks, “please tell me you broke up with him and not the other way round.”
“yes, i broke up with him,” you chuckle. “he talked shit about you guys the moment you all left, so i dumped him.”
“he deserved it,” he gleefully states.
“only i get to mess with my friends…literally.”
the joke is at the expense of yourself, but it feels uplifting to be able to start laughing about it now that you have started making amends, even if it is only with one person so far. knowing you have somebody on your side makes all the difference in the world.
“it’s actually sort of funny you say that,” jongho muses over the phone. “remember that truth or dare question? the one about choosing between love and friendship?”
you hum in affirmation, “san and i picked love.”
“and look at you, picking us over johnny,” he teases.
huffily, you banter, “picked you guys even though you all left me.”
there’s the tinkle of laughter from over the receiver, but it’s cut short by a faint knock. you hear jongho murmuring to somebody before his voice becomes audible again, “hey, sorry, i need to go now. someone needs to use the bathroom.”
you resist the urge to ask why he’s even there in the first place, but you just tell him that it’s okay, considering how late the time is anyway.
“i’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
“yeah, tomorrow,” you affirm. the wide smile on your face makes your cheeks ache as you grip the phone to your ear and wait for him to hang up. you hear the sound of rustling as he stands up and turns the doorknob, then there’s a voice in the background asking, “is that y/n?”
but before you can try to discern who the voice belongs to, the call ends. you don’t let the slight disappointment dampen your spirits though and you fall back to lie on top of your bed. jongho’s last words to you have made you feel like a giddy teenager– tomorrow feels too far away.
but his words before his last words also make you feel like a teenager. only it’s not giddiness but the uncertainty and confusion that comes with adolescence as you try to navigate and understand your own feelings about something. in the face of the situation, had you truly chosen friendship over love contrary to your own expectations?
it makes sense at first to think that’s what has happened, but you’re suddenly reminded of haneul’s words– that there is more to your heartache and regret than just feeling like you have lost your closest friends, and that you need to figure out your own feelings before talking to the boys. if you have stood by your own values and chosen love over friendship, then that means…the heartbreak that you feel is grief not for lost friendship, but loss of your first loves– because you are in love with all of them.
that spark of feelings that had remained for the boys had never become fully extinguished. when you agreed to date johnny, perhaps it was only because he had reminded you of them and you had mistaken the flutters in your stomach for romantic attraction to him. and so, left unattended, that very spark has now flourished into a wildfire that can no longer be controlled, neither can it be contained– it’s time for you to talk to them.
you pick up your phone again and send out a message, this time with no hesitation. it reads, ‘i need your help’.
and the reply is immediate.
anything you need
it’s the first day of winter when you arrive in seoul.
you get off the express bus at the terminal with both hands empty and only the bag on your back; you don’t plan on staying for long so you didn’t bring much with you. immediately, your breath fogs up in the frigid air and you nestle more snugly into the warmth of your coat. there’s a reasonable crowd of people at the terminal, so you crane your neck in search of jongho’s familiar tuft of brown hair, who had offered to pick you up knowing that this was your first time travelling up to seoul.
the last text he had sent told you that he had arrived and was waiting for you at terminal six. as you make your way closer, eyes squinting to discern whether you are seeing things correctly, you think you’re able to make out jongho’s side profile leaning against a brick wall.
except, he’s not alone. your footsteps start to falter because seonghwa is also there. ironically, he’s the one who spots you from afar. he pushes himself away from the wall and turns his body towards you as jongho questions whether he has spotted you.
ever since the night he had overheard the younger on a phone call with you, seonghwa has been aching to make things right with you again. he had been afraid that you would want nothing to do with them anymore and that you would slip away from their fingers just like that. but here you are in seoul, just a mere distance away from him.
seonghwa’s eyes start to water and your expression crumples almost immediately with his when he opens his arms with an offer of an embrace. his feet rush to close the distance when you throw yourself into his chest, the cashmere of his coat rubbing softly against your cheek.
“i’m sorry, hwa” you murmur.
“i know,” he whispers, stroking the back of your head, “me too.”
jongho silently watches with a small smile and allows you both to have your moment of reconciliation with each other. as you breathe in the comfortingly familiar scent of seonghwa’s cologne, you gesture for the other to come closer so that you can pull him into a group hug. and here, surrounded by both of them, despite there being several other things you want to say– poems of apologies and ballads of confessions– for now, this is more than enough.
seonghwa is the first to pull away suddenly as if he has been electrocuted. “hang on, are you and johnny still…” he trails off.
despite the snort of amusement that leaves you, you’re touched by his thoughtfulness to maintain respectful boundaries. “don’t worry, we broke up,” you reassure him, then you jokingly turn to jongho with an incredulous look. “you told him i was coming up to seoul, but didn’t tell him that johnny’s my ex now?”
he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, “that wasn’t in my place to reveal. plus, seonghwa was the one who looked over my shoulder and saw your text asking for my help.”
said man pretends to walk away innocently. you and jongho laugh, trailing after him towards the carpark as you ask, “what was he doing in your dorm anyway?”
“he crashed for the night. our dorm’s close to his workplace.”
when you reach their parked car, seonghwa tugs the passenger door open, but instead of hopping in he gestures for you to go first. you indulge in his chivalry with a chuckle, even more so when he places a hand along the top of the door frame in case you bump into it.
“thanks, hwa,” you say sweetly, shuffling in further when he scoots in after you and leaves jongho alone to sit at the front of the car.
“great, not even ten minutes of making up with each other and i’ve already become the third wheel,” jongho grumbles as he turns the ignition on.
despite the huffiness in his voice, jongho’s heart sings with happiness to see you and seonghwa already getting along like normal. he is willing to be the third wheel– even the ninth wheel– if it means that you and his boys can shine together every day. but for that to happen, it all rests on how the next hour unfolds.
“ready to go?” jongho asks, eyeing you from the rearview mirror.
are you? are you ready to talk to all of the boys at the same time? seonghwa gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and jongho nods at you reassuringly from the front; you’re not going into this alone anymore. you nod, “i’m ready.”
the drive takes less than thirty minutes and before you know it, you’re standing right outside the door to jongho’s shared dorm with wooyoung and hongjoong. jongho swipes and unlocks the door with his access card, however makes no move to push the door open. the fact that neither of the boys say anything to rush you spurs you on with enough determination to enter the dorm. the volume of their chatter increases immediately without the barrier of the door, and you take slow, hesitant steps along the short hallway towards the direction of the sound.
you appreciate when jongho takes the lead to subtly show you where to go but it still feels like you are intruding– which, you technically are, considering two out of three people who live here don’t know that you’re in the dorm right now. rounding the corner of the hallway, you discover that it leads straight to the living room where all of the boys currently are. so it’s fucking awkward when the sight of you emerging completely kills the conversation and a collective hush settles over the room.
you have to fight everything within you not to turn on your heel and just flee, because nothing has prepared you for their initial reaction. you hate the fact that you cannot tell whether the shocked expressions on yunho and yeosang’s faces are ones of delight or displeasure. you hate the way that wooyoung and hongjoong’s bodies tense and become guarded, ready to tell you to leave their dorm. but more than anything, you hate the way that san and mingi cannot even look at you.
“holy shit,” yunho whispers.
that’s enough to set off the others and hongjoong angrily questions, “what the fuck is she doing here?”
wooyoung looks at jongho, “is this why you told everyone to come over?”
you defend, “i was the one who asked jongho for help.”
“i wasn’t talking to you–”
you cut wooyoung off, contrary to your next words, “can you just shut the fuck up for once? i’m not here to start another fight. just–hear me out, please. i’ll leave as soon as i say what i need to.”
he glares at you and everybody holds their breath as they steel themselves for another full-blown argument. but wooyoung does as you ask and folds his arms angrily. nobody speaks, waiting for you to talk as you finally put your bag down and sit a safe distance away.
you close your eyes and take a breath to compose yourself. you refuse to let yourself cry this time. you’ve done plenty of that in the last few months and you have finally come to terms with your own feelings. “i…i’m sorry,” you start.
somebody scoffs, but you ignore it and let the words from your heart take over. “i’m sorry for being such an asshole over the summer–for letting my ex get in between us and for ignoring all the times you told me he wasn’t a good guy. i shouldn’t have assumed that you were all okay with me bringing him along whenever we hung out and i should have asked before inviting him to the campfire. that was something special for us and it was selfish of me to do that.
“in particular, i’m sorry for how that night went down. i know it doesn’t excuse what i did, but i had an argument with hongjoong earlier that day and i was feeling strung tight. i wish i had handled the situation better when i felt confronted about bringing johnny along, and i acknowledge that the words i said can’t be taken back, even if i didn’t mean them.”
nobody needs reminding of the words that you are referring to, because it has sat just as heavily in their hearts as it has your own. the sight of mingi ducking his head down even further has your heart clenching painfully.
even if he isn’t looking, you apologise to him directly, “mingi, i’m sorry we never got to finish our talk. i know that you were going through a hard time and that that trip was meant to be something healing for you–for all of you. namhae was meant to be an escape, but it probably didn’t feel that way…because of me. i mean it when i say you’ll always have a home in namhae and i hope that one day, you’ll be able to trust me on that. in fact, i hope that you all know that namhae is not the same without either one of you boys.”
you hesitate, because not even jongho knows about what you’re going to say next. you avert your gaze to focus on the carpet just in front of you so that you don’t have to see their expressions. “it’s taken this fight–almost losing all of you–and breaking up with my ex to realise just how stupid and blind i am to my own feelings. i always thought i would be happy with just being friends…but you are all so, so much more to me than just friends and ‘whoever’. i think i’m in love with all of you and i know it’s unconventional, but…i guess love has no limits.
“but i’m also going to be honest. i’m still hurt by the things some of you said or did. it hurt that some of you criticised my decisions without thinking about how that might have made me feel. and i know it wasn’t your intention to, but i felt like i was being backed into a corner multiple times when you kept repeating the same things over and over again about my ex without any real constructiveness to your words.
“i don’t expect you to apologise right now, nor accept my apology, and i don’t expect any of you to respond to my confession. i want you all to have enough time to work out your own feelings…if you want to. if you find it in your heart to forgive me and if you want to apologise, pursue friendship again or…maybe something more, then come to namhae and tell me in person.”
there’s half a year left until summer, and as much as things can change in six months, you also hope that this gives you and the boys time to work out what you all truly want from one another– be it friendship or love. nobody moves or says anything, trying to process everything you have said so you decide to leave them to it, having done your part. you make a move to stand and sling your bag onto your back.
“you’re leaving already? where are you going?” yeosang abruptly asks, standing as well.
“back to namhae,” you explain. “i booked a return ticket for the same day.”
san frowns and for the first time since you arrived, he looks at you. “you came all the way here…just to talk to us for half an hour?”
you give him a bittersweet smile, “that’s how important this is to me–how important you all are to me.”
he looks away, unable to hold your gaze. you turn to jongho to ask if he is still happy to drop you back off at the terminal, who nods and begins to pull on his puffer jacket.
“wait,” yeosang calls out. he skitters off down the corridor, socked feet pattering against the floor as he grabs something from his bedroom and hurries back in front of you. “here.”
he has a thick scarf that he holds out for you to take, but as you start to reach for it, he changes his mind. you hold your breath as yeosang carefully reaches over your head to drape the scarf around you. with tender hands, he wraps it around your neck before securing it with a knot. he continues to fiddle with the ends of the scarf and you’re starting to wonder why he is hesitating when he looks at you shyly and mumbles something under his breath. before you can make a noise of confusion, he darts off once again back into his room. seonghwa cannot help but smile fondly, because even if he is unable to hear what the other said either, he knows what yeosang means purely by his actions.
you’re accompanied out of the door by jongho minutes later, carrying a plastic bag of snacks and drinks from their dorm that seonghwa has rushed to put together for you to have on your way back. when you’re in the car, you also find a pair of black gloves in the pocket of your coat. you have no idea who put it there, but the sentiment of one of the boys trying to ensure you are not cold is enough to fill your entire body with warmth.
you may have arrived in seoul with both hands empty and only the bag on your back, but you leave seoul with their quiet acts of apologies and forgiveness on your hands, neck, and in the plastic bag sitting on your lap as your bus pulls away back to namhae.
a lot can change in six months, but a lot can also stay the same. it all balances on the peak of the fulcrum, waiting to teeter either way as summer arrives.
you’ve kept in touch with jongho and seonghwa, so you haven’t been left in the dark anxiously wondering whether they will be returning to namhae or not. but even with their arrival, the uncertainty remains as to which way the scale has– or will tip.
so you don’t walk out to greet them when you hear the resounding slam of shutting doors and the low hum of exchanged conversation, because you don't know whether the other boys want to see you or not. plus, there’s something embarrassing about seeing them for the first time after apologising, much less confessing to them without any certainty as to their feelings, and much much less to eight people at once. you’re doing a pretty good job at hiding and pretending you are completely oblivious to their arrival in namhae.
that is, until mingi knocks on your door. mingi feels like he’s fourteen again, knocking on yunho’s door and crossing his fingers hoping to god that it’s his friend who opens it and not his parents, because mingi feels embarrassed asking them every day if yunho can come out to play. this time, though, mingi’s nervous because it’s you and he’s nervous because six months is a long time where feelings can change. he hopes that yours are still the same.
you’re greeted by a shock of platinum white hair when you open your door and you realise it’s mingi with freshly bleached hair. it looks good– a little too good– and you have to force yourself to peel your eyes away. except your eyes travel down involuntarily to the contrasting black of his tank top, which is at least two sizes too large and dips down dangerously to reveal the shadows of his chest. you’re down bad, and it’s only been ten seconds since you’ve laid eyes on him since seoul.
mingi is looking at you amusedly when you finally lock eyes with him and he seems to stand a little straighter with confidence. he beckons with a gentle tilt of his head, “come surf with us?”
the casualness of his invite throws you off and you wonder if you’ve somehow missed the memo that he’s forgiven you. “you’re all okay with me coming?” you blink confusedly.
“the others can speak for themselves,” he puts it plainly, but then smiles, “i want you to come, though. it’s not the same without you. plus,” his voice mellows out earnestly, “someone’s gotta welcome me home, don’t you think?”
home. home is where the heart is, and for mingi, regardless of the arguments and fights, his heart will always be with the boys and you. because in anger, hurt and love, there is always forgiveness, and mingi has forgiven you.
shyly, you return his smile, “i’ll go get changed, then?”
“is that an invite inside?” mingi leans against the doorframe with faux coyness that manages to make the rounds of your cheeks heat up. you shove him back lightly with a laugh, trying to ignore the firmness of his chest under your touch.
he grins boyishly, utterly pleased with himself, but steps back so you can close the door. “take your time,” he reassures. “i’ll wait for you.”
and he does, just so that you don’t have to walk alone to join the rest of the group. even after you have thrown on a swimsuit and slathered yourself with sunscreen as best as you can, mingi is still outside and yunho has also joined him– you know because you can hear them talking as you search for your house keys in the hallway.
“what if it’s too late?” yunho asks.
“you don’t know that, not until you try,” mingi replies. “here, a kiss for good luck.”
you have no idea what the context for this conversation is, but it suddenly strikes you that apart from mingi, you’ve never discussed sexual orientation with the boys. you may have asked them to consider you romantically, but you can’t say for sure if they even like girls. from what you know, none of them have dated before, and now you’re suddenly wondering whether any of the boys are dating within the group. mingi and yunho are certainly a possibility.
but regardless, you realise this is probably not something you should be discovering by overhearing a conversation, so you deliberately drop your keys to alert them of your presence and wait a couple more seconds before you open your front door.
for the second time of the day, you’re absolutely floored. yunho has dyed his hair an ash grey and it falls over his forehead and down the nape of his neck in messy locks. there must have been a fucking enticing buy-one-get-one-free deal, because he’s also wearing a black tank top much like mingi’s, except his is form-fitting and putting every damned muscle of his upper body on glorified display.
not that you’re complaining. but it’s also very distracting when you’re trying to focus on what mingi is saying as you all make your way down the beach towards the shore, their surfboards hiked against their hips.
“you guys go ahead, i think jongho’s calling for me,” mingi suddenly announces before darting off.
you’re left alone with yunho, and from the back of jongho’s head who most definitely doesn’t even know you three have joined the group, mingi’s plan to slip away has succeeded.
“um,” yunho hesitantly starts, “do you want to try paddling out on my board? i’ll stay close.”
the last time you had attempted anything on his shortboard, you had flipped over and swallowed several mouthfuls of salt water. although you’re not particularly keen on repeating the experience, some things don’t need to be spelt out– the reason for his offer. only one foot is needed to push a bicycle into motion, but two feet are needed to keep it in motion. so you nod and let him drag his surfboard towards the shallow waters for you.
as you trail beside him, seonghwa and jongho greet you enthusiastically on their own boards out in the horizon. yeosang waves too from further down the shore and you lose some of the tension in your shoulders when you know that the intention behind his scarf was not misinterpreted. only san and wooyoung do not directly acknowledge your presence, but unbeknownst to you, the younger is carefully observing your interactions with the others.
“here,” yunho says, garnering your attention.
he holds the surfboard steady in the water, waiting for you to lie on top. his hands stay even after you gingerly shift and balance your weight onto your front. with his guidance, you slowly paddle out past the rush of whitewater waves. yunho is barely waist-deep in the water so he easily manoeuvres you and the board as you try to recall the familiar motion of paddling against incoming swells. but both of you know that you’re not really trying to paddle and he’s not really watching for mistakes.
eventually, you languidly let the waters caress your body as you still, letting the slight waves gently rock your surfboard. one of yunho’s arms have shifted over your back to support the opposite side of the surfboard and your body tingles whenever his forearm brushes over you. his other hand rests near your own, your fingers grazing together whenever the board dances over a swell.
it is within the serenity and solitude of the ocean, and the warmth and proximity of each other’s presence that the conversation happens. yunho apologises and you forgive. it occurs as simply as that, because actions speak louder than words and you have already shared a library of novels with your bodies.
from afar, wooyoung’s internal debate continues to teeter on its fulcrum as he watches the moment you share with yunho. wooyoung may be fast to talk, but he is also keen to observe. he sees the glow of relief and happiness returning to the faces of the boys. what he said to you summers ago still stands true– you make the boys happy and it’s obvious they make you happy too. and all wooyoung has ever wanted is to protect the smile of his loved ones, including you.
the radiance of the smile you give when yunho pretends to flip your surfboard over reminds wooyoung of his failure to do just that. in his blindness for the others, he had sacrificed your smile. the scale teeters over the fulcrum and he follows the momentum of his heart to wade out into the waters where you two still are, his apology ready to spill out.
and so you discover that a lot can change in six months, but a lot can also change in one day. with each relationship that stitches back together, rips now reinforced and sturdier than before, namhae almost feels the same again– summer almost feels the same again. you may still have the two hardest conversations left to be resolved, but if more time is what they need, then you are willing to wait for san and–
yunho and wooyoung scramble to steady your surfboard before you actually tip over when you suddenly move to kneel, head whipping around to confirm your fears. you hadn’t initially noticed as the boys had been scattered, intermittently ducking back into the house, but your heart sinks as you count the number of heads again. you’re unable to fight off the dread in your voice when you dare to ask, “where’s hongjoong?”
yunho’s eyes don’t meet yours and wooyoung’s mouth thins out tightly before he cautiously answers you, “he didn’t come.”
san likes to think that he’s patient. ever since he was young, his father had made sure to raise him to wait. wait for elders to eat before picking up his own chopsticks; wait for others to walk through the door before he enters; wait for others to choose their preference before he picks his. and san likes to think that he has diligently applied this principle to his relationships too. wait to understand someone before criticising; wait for his own anger to subside before talking; wait to reflect on his own wrongs before expecting an apology.
but right now, san is impatient. he catches glimpses of the sweet messages you send jongho and seonghwa and the joyous cackles you share with wooyoung when you prank yeosang. he notices the way yunho and mingi are attached to your hips, and san wants all of that and more. he wants to tell you he’s forgiven you and that he’s sorry too; he wants to cup your cheeks and thumb away the phantom tears he caused; he wants to love you.
but his body is acting as if it’s an entirely separate entity from his heart. he’s unable to approach you, even as he watches everyone else do what he wants to and it frustrates him to no end. and it’s as if the gods themselves also became impatient with his pathetic attempts– or lack thereof– because they drop the perfect opportunity right in front of him.
a quick look at his phone tells san that he’s been tossing on the couch for the last two hours. sleep fails to take over, so he hauls himself up and pads softly towards the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. he stares out of the window above the sink, where he can just see the stretch of beach towards the right. the moon shines brightly tonight and the rays decorate the sand and sea foam with dreamy tranquillity.
there’s a quiet rustle above the stillness of the night. when san turns around, his heart immediately clenches at the sight. you’re sleepily rubbing the bleariness out of your eye as you shuffle your way into the kitchen. there’s a stray tuft of hair that san wants to reach out and smooth down for you, but he opts to grip his glass of water tighter.
you startle, not having expected someone to be awake and most definitely not san. you had stayed over late into the night watching a movie marathon with the boys, and despite your protests, they had convinced you to crash in haneul’s room. tension doesn’t exist between you and the boys anymore, only awkwardness with san and…avoidance with hongjoong.
“couldn’t sleep?” you murmur, voice unguarded and still thick with sleep.
san shakes his head, “you?”
“got thirsty,” you explain, grabbing a glass from under the counter.
he hums at your answer and then it grows silent again. it’s only after you drowsily blink at him that he realises why you’re not making a move to get water– he’s still standing in front of the sink. san starts to step out of the way but thinks better of it. reaching out to grab your glass, he fills it up with water and then returns it to you.
“thanks, sannie.”
it doesn’t register in your head that the nickname has slipped out. for him, though, it echoes and ricochets in the very caverns of his ribcage. hesitantly, he mutters, “you’re welcome, pipsqueak.”
it tugs a smile out of your lips. “haven’t heard that in a while,” you muse. “kind of miss it.”
and i miss you. san is impatient, and he finally decides that he cannot take it anymore. “i’m sorry, y/n,” he whispers. “i know how badly i hurt you.”
the haze in your eyes immediately fades away at his words and he takes it as a good sign to continue. “i’ll be honest. i hated that the person next to you as your boyfriend wasn’t one of us–wasn’t me, because it didn’t look like he was making you happy at all. and that day you were out working in the field? some of us actually ran into johnny.”
you acknowledge sadly, “seonghwa told me what happened. i’m sorry he was like that.”
“that’s not on you to apologise,” san refutes. “i was the one who asked the boys to keep it from you until we could properly talk after the campfire night, but along with everything that had led up to that point, all my frustrations accumulated without even realising it.”
“i guess that makes the two of us, then. there were arguments you and i both weren’t aware of, and we ended up being the last straw for each other,” you chuckle wryly.
his voice wavers, “i’m meant to be the one person who is always there for you, but i made it feel like you were pitted against the eight of us instead and i’m so sorry for doing that. it should never have been me against you, nor us boys against you. it should have been all nine of us against the problem.”
you can’t help but take the opportunity to tease lightly, “are you calling my ex the problem?”
“exactly that,” he deadpans. “we all did.”
you nod, “thank you for trying to let me know, even when i didn’t listen.”
“no, i’m sorry we didn’t explain ourselves more clearly–or earlier.”
“but you have now, and i understand,” you reassure.
he nods gratefully before hesitating, “there’s something else behind all this that i can’t tell you yet, not without the others here. but when things are…okay with hongjoong again, that’s when we’ll tell you.”
something about his promise tells you that it has to do with the other part of the conversation everyone has been skirting around so far– your confession. faint memories of the interactions observed between the boys last summer and the brief exchange you overheard between yunho and mingi flicker across your mind.
perhaps you should steel yourself for rejection. you don’t dwell on it, though. this may have been the first time your friendship with san had been so close to shattering, but you know that it will take more than the entire universe to completely break you apart; you still trust him– because before it was the nine of you, it was you and san against the world.
“then are we okay now?” you ask, needing the confirmation.
“yeah,” he smiles breathlessly, “more than okay.”
the caverns of san’s dimples– the ones you love so much– shyly peek out to greet you in the faint glow of the moonlight coming in from the window. he reaches out silently and you understand immediately. you intertwine your fingers together.
san wants to ask you to go to bed with him. not to do anything sexual, but to simply hold you against his chest; trace the curve of your nose; wake up to your sleepy smile in the morning. but he can’t, not yet. not until you’ve worked things out with hongjoong, and not until you’ve had a talk together– all nine of you.
he settles for tugging you in the direction of haneul’s bedroom, hand never letting go of yours as he softly ushers, “let me tuck you back into bed.”
and so fifteen years after your first day of summer in namhae, you find that summer still takes the form of a sweet, dimpled boy who loves the sea and holding hands.
your instinctive reaction is to shut the door in hongjoong’s face.
when seonghwa had texted you asking you to open your front door, you had been expecting said man for obvious reasons. so when you pull the door open and see kim fucking hongjoong at your doorstep in fucking namhae instead, of course you slam the door shut. because why the fuck is he here?
“oh shit,” you curse, when it registers in your brain.
hongjoong is here and you’ve just shut the door in his face. if you had even an ounce of collectedness in you, you would realise that the boys’ initial and very much candid reaction of shock to seeing you randomly show up at their dorm in seoul is suddenly very relatable. you yank the door open again.
“sure, why don’t you just go ahead and punch me in the fucking face too,” hongjoong scowls.
immediately, you furrow your eyebrows, “well, if you’re offering…”
“oh, fuck off,” he raises his middle finger at you.
you raise both middle fingers in retaliation, “yeah, back into my house that you’re standing in front of.”
“for god’s sake–kim hongjoong!” seonghwa hisses in exasperation, head poking out of san’s door as he eavesdrops to make sure this exact thing doesn’t happen. “you’re here to apologise!”
hongjoong appears rightfully berated, then he looks at anything but you as he huffs, “can i come in?”
“depends,” you cross your arms defiantly. “are you going to try and kick me out?”
despite the prickliness of the conversation, it almost feels right in a sense. as if there’s no real heat behind your words and you two are back to the easy banter you used to have– before your near-kiss with him. this time, though, seonghwa hisses your name in frustration.
“geez! okay!” you fluster as you step back and open the door wider, letting hongjoong in and away from the prying ears of the older.
you sit tentatively on your couch and he mirrors you, scratching the back of his neck as he perches himself on the edge. it’s awkward and tense when it becomes apparent to the both of you that you’re alone. “i didn’t think you would come,” you break the silence.
he hums softly, “me neither.”
you don’t know how to respond so you don’t, allowing the quiet to settle over your living room once more. eventually, hongjong opens his mouth quietly, “i was–am ashamed of myself.”
you’ve been there before– on the other side of the conversation as the one doing the apologising. you know how difficult it is to be honest about your own emotions, particularly the negative ones, so you wait patiently for him to find the right words.
“i’ve been ashamed ever since the night i tried to kiss you. i was a coward and i did nothing to change it. i only ended up hurting you and i’ve regretted it every single day. i think about why i didn’t talk to you afterwards, why i said those things about you and your ex…why i didn’t just kiss you.”
you can’t help but inhale sharply at his confession, because that can only mean one thing.
hongjoong gathers the courage to look at you as he admits, “i did like you. i still do. but i was an idiot and thought that i was doing the best thing for everybody. i shouldn’t have made that choice for you nor tried to have a say in your love life. i was jealous and i know now how toxic i was being, which is why i was so stubborn about not coming to namhae because i didn’t think my apology would be good enough. so i’m sorry for all the things i said and did, but i’m also sorry that it took me this long to talk to you.”
he looks so uncharacteristically unsure of himself as he timidly asks, “will you forgive me?”
there’s not a moment of hesitation before you’re closing the gap between the two of you on the couch so that you can wrap your arms around him. and in a rare display of vulnerability, he tucks his face into the crook of your neck. you comfort, “i forgive you. there are a lot of things i’m ashamed of doing too. but we all make mistakes and that’s what helps us to grow.”
“you still like me?” he mumbles into your neck.
you laugh at the ticklish feeling, “very much so, hongjoong.” because in forgiveness there is love, and you have years of owed love to show the boys.
only when your sides become cramped and your necks become stiff do you finally pull away from each other. as you make eye contact with him though, you’re suddenly reminded of his confession. you know that you will need to have another talk with hongjoong about it, and you still don’t know where the other boys stand in terms of pursuing something romantic with you, but that will be for later. right now, you are content and at peace– the nine of you against the world once more.
“let’s go find the rest of the boys?” you ask.
he grins, holding a hand out to pull you up with him as he answers, “let’s go.”
just as hongjoong puts on his shoes by the doorway, he distractedly questions, “why are these here?”
you frown and follow his line of sight, settling on the top of the cabinet in your hallway where a pair of gloves sit– the ones you had discovered in your coat on your way back to namhae. “you know who they belong to?”
“yeah,” he nods, absentmindedly touching them before walking out the door. “i bought them last year, but they were too big so i gave them to san.”
it was san who hid them in your coat.
you numbly follow his steps outside where the boys have gathered in waiting and are sitting side by side on the embankment, facing the ocean. they are simply living in the moment, basking in the golden rays of sunlight and the warm touch of the person by their side– an arm around a waist; a head on a shoulder. you almost don’t want to disturb them, but you know the seven of them are not complete. not without hongjoong, and not without you.
and as your gaze meets san who smiles at the both of you, his chest swelling with relief, pride and love, you realise that san had bared his heart out to you long before you even knew.
once you fall back into routine with them, it starts to become obvious. the way the boys naturally gravitate towards one another with doting gazes and lingering touches; the casual use of a pet name or flirtatious joke; the shifts in dynamic you had noticed before that seem to extend beyond friendship. it starts to make sense when you realise that that’s exactly the reason– no longer are their relationships purely based on platonic love, but romantic love.
it’s why yunho knocks his forehead against mingi’s just to see him smile, and why san pretends to grumble when wooyoung kisses his cheeks, only to give the younger a proper kiss mere seconds later. it’s why jongho never lets yeosang carry his own surfboard even if he’s just as strong, and it’s why seonghwa and hongjoong like to disappear into the shower together.
but the longer you mull over these interactions for, the more you realise that they don’t seem to be simply ‘paired off’. you notice how jongho refuses to be cuddled but will nestle against seonghwa when he’s tired, and how yunho and yeosang seek out each other’s company before bedtime. you notice how wooyoung squeezes hongjoong’s ass underwater to make him yelp, and how san and mingi are content to just sit together on their surfboards on the sand.
rather than a question of who is with who, it becomes a question of who isn’t with who, and this time, you also find yourself mixed into the equation. but it confuses you whenever they treat you the same and you find yourself holding back despite your feelings, because it’s much harder to tell what kind of love they’re giving you when you yourself yearn for the intimate type.
san notices the change in your demeanour, as small as it may be, and decides it’s time for the talk. so here the nine of you sit on the beach that stretches in front of your houses. the sand is still warm from the sun even as it starts to dip towards the horizon of the sea. yeosang’s jacket lays over your bare legs and a slight breeze tugs delicately at your clothes.
“okay, so who’s telling her?” yunho elbows wooyoung as soon as the words leave the latter’s lips.
“what? how else are we meant to start the conversation?” wooyoung complains before mocking, “the reason i have gathered you all here today–”
rolling your eyes, you cut to the chase, “are you all dating each other?”
wooyoung chokes on his own words and everybody else looks at you with wide eyes.
“how’d you know?” yeosang startles.
seonghwa agrees, “i didn’t think we were that obvious,” but when you simply raise an eyebrow in response, he’s quick to amend, “okay, maybe we were.”
san eyes the others to see if anyone wants to step in and lead the conversation, but when nobody does, he speaks up to explain, “we’ve been dating each other for just over a year now–so before last summer. it took a bit of time to work everything out, establish boundaries and communicate what we wanted from one another, but we’re happy like this.”
“once our relationship had settled down a little, that’s when i came out to my parents,” mingi adds, “which didn’t go down well. we wanted to tell you last summer too, but…other things happened and it all fell through before we could talk about it.”
yeosang meekly scratches the back of his neck as he says, “it’s long overdue, but we’re telling you now.”
the chuckle that comes out of you is light and carefree. “i’m happy for you guys,” you affirm sincerely. “i don’t think there’s anybody else who is more perfect for you guys than each other.”
you truly do. you’re thankful that they have one another and you finally understand how hard it must’ve been for san during your argument to pick a side. his boys were and are his priority and you cannot fault him for putting them first. but then you’re reminded of hongjoong and his confession. are the others aware of his feelings?
said man has the audacity to frown at you in confusion. “why does it sound like you’re just wishing us well?”
“am i not allowed to do that as your friend?” you mirror his expression.
“god,” hongjoong exhales. “do you think we’re telling you this just to reject you?”
“of all people to say that–rub it in my face, why don’t you,” you grumble.
he starts to grasp the situation as he looks at the rest of the boys, “wait, did nobody fucking confess to her apart from me?”
the explosion of responses to his question is immediate.
“you confessed–” “–i thought we agreed to confess together–” “–trust you to cut in line! that’s not fair!”
your eyes dart wildly from side to side, unsure of who to focus on as they all start to passionately talk over one another. at one point, someone tries to chuck a handful of sand in hongjoong’s direction, but it scatters innocuously before it can even get close.
“hold the fuck up,” you yell over the commotion. “confess what?”
“how did you figure out that we’re in a polyamorous relationship but not that the feelings extend to you as well?” yeosang judges you.
“i didn’t want to project my own feelings and misconstrue anything. plus, none of you have actually mentioned liking or dating girls before, so i just…”
“assumed we didn’t have feelings for you,” seonghwa concludes as you laugh awkwardly.
wooyoung deadpans, “we may have wanted to punch your ex in the face for his shitty-ass personality because we were your friends, but we were also jealous as fuck.”
“all of you?” you ask in disbelief.
“all of us. some of us were just better at hiding it,” mingi looks pointedly at the boy sitting on his left.
“you’re one to talk about hiding your feelings,” hongjoong counters before turning to you to expose, “mingi wouldn’t shut up about you after he met you.”
mingi immediately shoves him backwards into the sand.
“look,” jongho cuts in, “what we’re trying to say is that we’ve all liked you for a while now, and if you still feel the same way about us, then we’d like to take our relationship with you to the next step.”
how many times have you wanted this moment– for all of them to return your confession. but now that it’s actually becoming a reality, it’s honestly a little daunting. “you’re all serious about this?”
a lot will change over the next year. most of you will join hongjoong and seonghwa as postgraduates and start full-time work. san will move back to namhae, but whether the others will follow or stay in seoul is unknown. there are a lot of uncertainties regarding the future and the relationship will only work if everyone is serious about making it work.
yunho answers on everyone’s behalf, “we’re very serious.”
you take a moment to look at all of them one by one, only to find the same promise within their gazes– that even if things become difficult, they want to face it with you by their side.
it feels right when san is the one to officially ask the question, “y/n, will you be our girlfriend?”
like san once said, it’s hard to find friends you love, but it’s even harder to find a friend you fall in love with, and you’ve been blessed with not only one, but eight of these people. between friendship and love, you already know from experience what you will decide– so you make your choice.
“i forgot, are hongjoong and wooyoung coming down this weekend?” san pokes his head in through the doorway.
you eye him from the mirror, face void of expression to reply, “don’t count on it.”
san’s pout is immediate and you laugh, shuffling over to console your boyfriend from where you had been getting ready in your shared bathroom. he grumbles, “you’re never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?” but he can’t hide the way his lips pull upwards the moment you press a chaste kiss against his cheek in apology.
“hongjoong said that there were a couple of delays with filming, so he and wooyoung can’t step away just yet. but they’ll come back next saturday if they can wrap things up by then.”
as you talk, san takes the halter straps out of your grasp so that he can help secure your top around your neck. “it’s so hard to align everyone’s schedules together. i miss the long holiday breaks we got in college,” you absently complain, body relaxing under the ministrations of san’s hands as he gently squeezes the nape of your neck.
“me too, love,” another voice joins the conversation. seonghwa walks up to tenderly ruffle san’s hair and nuzzles your temple with his nose. “but we have to work hard to pay off this house and to spoil you with whatever you want.”
seonghwa has grown out his hair and has kept it long since, and you love running your fingers through his silken waves before he goes to work every morning. he always looks so soft and cosy with his round glasses and fluffy sweaters that you know his school kids adore just as much as you do. but right now, his face bare of makeup and hair pulled back into a messy updo, wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts to show off his upper build, he looks the complete opposite of what you’re used to seeing and you feel your stomach doing flips in response.
you lean into both of their touches as you giggle, “we could have bought a smaller house. nobody sleeps in their own bedroom anyway.”
“well can you really blame us for being madly in love,” seonghwa grins, stealing a kiss from you that only serves to elicit more giggling.
“that’s true. your beds are always warmer than mine,” you agree.
“exactly. now come on, are you ready to go?”
the three of you walk downstairs to the living room, where the rest of the boys are waiting around in various mismatches of shirts, tank tops or only shorts. after two weeks of attempting to keep everybody’s clothes separate once you’d all moved in together, they had simply given up and made their wardrobes communal.
as you drop a spare bottle of sunscreen into your tote bag, a pair of arms snake themselves around your waist. you turn around, sweet smile ready to greet whoever it is. your jaw drops, “wooyoung?”
his eyes sparkle with mischief, even more so when your eyes grow even wider at the sight of hongjoong perched on the edge of the couch in the background and you exclaim, “hongjoong? i thought you two weren’t coming until next week?”
wooyoung takes the opportunity of your dazed compliance to pull you into a bone-crushing hug. “we caught up with the schedule,” he exclaims happily. “you should’ve seen hongjoong though. director kim made sure to work us hard.”
you playfully wriggle yourself out of the vice-like hug you’re in to bound over to the older, who automatically opens his arms to welcome you. you slot easily between his legs and his hands rub the sides of your back fondly as he looks up to ask, “did you miss me?”
forgoing an answer, you lean down to kiss him. wooyoung immediately complains, “why didn’t i get a kiss?” so san pulls him in for one to appease him. you’d never be able to leave the house otherwise, because then everyone would start demanding your kisses. and considering that it has been a few long months since you last had quality time with all eight of them at the same time, there would be too many wanted kisses to count.
one thing you had all agreed on prior to buying a house in namhae was to ensure it had a beach front, just like your and san’s old home. so it doesn’t take long to carry your surfboards– save for you; the boys like it when you use theirs– and towels down to the shore.
you close your eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of salt and subtle feeling of ocean spray on your skin. it’s a bittersweet emotion, knowing that it’s already the last day of summer, but only today have the nine of you been able to align your schedules this year. it makes you appreciate these fleeting moments of rest though, and you learn to find rest in each other too.
some of the boys start slipping off their tops, dropping them onto the sand to keep them dry as they surf. you’ve found that the greatest perk of dating them is that you’re allowed to openly and unashamedly ogle at them. the rigid shadows of their muscles reveal the discipline and hard work they put into maintaining their bodies despite their busy jobs.
san had also been monitoring his protein intake leading up to his recent dance showcase, so it’s very hard to look at the expanse of his broad chest and prominent dip of abs down his hips without feeling a rush of heat in your lower stomach. if the boys know that you offer to help them reapply sunscreen just to get a little handsy with them, then nobody says anything. (they offer to help you reapply your sunscreen as well.)
you’re content to just lie down on your towel and watch the boys, yeosang in his usual place by your side as he presses lazy kisses to your shoulder and traces the names of his lovers onto the skin of your stomach. mingi starts dragging his surfboard into the water, but when wooyoung attempts to push him in instead– and fails miserably– all thoughts of surfing are quickly forgotten. it becomes an absolute shitshow when hongjoong gets mistaken for the culprit and mingi picks him up.
“it wasn’t me!” the older shrieks, but mingi has no ears for reasoning and prepares to drop him into the water. unwilling to go down by himself, hongjoong grips mingi’s neck at the last second and successfully drags him underwater with his weight. as wooyoung runs away absolutely delighted by the outcome, his trajectory unfortunately runs into jongho, who cuts off his cackles with a giggle, a simple shove sideways and a resultant splash.
not even bystanders can catch a break, and seonghwa screams for mercy as san and yunho suddenly grab his arms and legs. they sway him from side to side before letting him go with the momentum of the last swing to fling him into the ocean. everyone erupts into a united clamour of glee at the dunking of the eldest and you find yourself shaking your head at their unchanging antics.
you don’t think you can ever get tired of watching their radiant smiles of happiness and shared touches of sun-kissed skin, nor can you ever get tired of hearing their tinkling chimes of laughter and rowdy shouts of mischief. you may all grow older and there may not be as much time or luxury to simply bask in the joys of summer any longer; these golden hours that you are living in right now may forever remain as your sole memories when you reflect back on the essence of your youth.
on this day– the last day of summer in namhae– you find that summer takes the form of shared ice cream with sticky kisses, long showers with warm touches, and hushed pillow talk with synchronous heartbeats. but it doesn’t matter to you, not anymore.
the seasons will change and the years will pass, but so long as you are with your boys, every day will be summer.
With the sun burning down on Seoul and temperatures sky rocking in just a few days, both you and your boyfriend had decided to enjoy the weather and go on a mini vacation. It was the perfect timing actually! You didn't have to work for a few days and even if Wooyoung had to stay behind while the rest of the guys were going to morocco, both you and him wanted to make the best of it.
Yes, Wooyoung had been bitter about being benched due to his treatment plan and medication, that however had quickly changed once he had realized that it gave him the perfect opportunity for him to enjoy the time he now had with you without having to think about schedules he may soon have.
"We could fly to Jeju if you want?" you had suggested after sending of the boys and watching TV.
Wooyoung tilted his head to the side, considering your words carefully while he mindlessly traced his thumb over your bare leg that you had thrown over his lap. If there was one thing he loved about the summer heat, then it was definitely the amount of shorts you wore around him to avoid sweating to death.
"I'm benched until Thursday when we'll fly to japan, so until I why not? It will be our first vacation together!"
With sparkly eyes and a bright smile on his face, your boyfriend flung your legs off of him. Earning himself a pout as he went to his room to search for a travel bag. Meanwhile you reached for your phone to search for flights and a hotel.
And just a few hours later you were sat in an airplane with your head resting on Wooyoungs shoulder and his on yours. When you had booked a flight at 6:30 am to have the entire day to spend on Jeju, it had seemed like a good idea, but having to leave your apartment at 4 am had you thinking entirely different now.
But once sitting at the hotels private pool, watching Wooyoungs back muscle flexing in the water as he swam a few rounds made it worth the missing sleep.
The sun stood high and you slurped on the fruity cocktail you had gotten yourself at the hotel bar. Your legs hanging in the refreshing water and eyes closed as you leaned back on your hands to relax, you didn't notice your boyfriend swimming closer.
"Enjoying yourself baby?" he teased and stood between your legs. Arms tightly wrapping around your midsection. A shudder went down your spine at his touch.
"Just as much as you do it seems. And I do have to admit, I’m really enjoying the view over her- " you smiled and screeched when you felt him pinch your side playfully.
Wooyoung smirked at the response. "Oh really? Well, i have to agree... the view I have right now really is amazing..."
"Yah! Stop looking like that Jung Wooyoung!" you scolded and hit him on the shoulder. Smile never leaving your face.
The dancer only laughed. Something in his eyes flashed mischievously up at you. He didn't give you time to react and before you realized what was happening, you found yourself in the water with him.
Clinging onto him like a koala, you wrapped your legs around his waist and naturally his hands came down to hold your ass.
"You're the worst." you huffed and Wooyoung quickly used the pout on your face to press his lips gently onto yours.
"I can accept that." he winked and suddenly let you go. Surprised that you suddenly weren't attached to his front anymore you came back up again, splashing the water at him as he swam to the edge of the pool and let his eyes wander over the scenery of Jeju.
You swallowed at the sight. Water was running down the smooth skin of his back, shoulders looking broad and you had to hold yourself back from jumping him right then and there.
Swimming closer, you reached out to him, fingers tracing the black ink on his shoulders and pressing a loving peck on it.
"It wont be forever you know... You'll get this under control and then you can go back to perform for atinys like always. I promise." you whispered close to his ear, knowing what was going through his head just by looking at the thoughtful look on his face.
"I know, i know. It still sucks to have to stay back. Don't get me wrong baby, I love you and i love spending time with you but-" Wooyoung cut off, turning his head to face you as you turned his face to you.
"I understand... and i wish i could take this burden from you." You placed your mouth tenderly onto his pulling him into another kiss, this time deeper then the ones previous before you pulled away to hook your chin over his shoulder.
"Thank you," the man exhaled slowly. "I love you. So much!"
"Well i sure hope so!" you joked and got promptly thrown back into the water when Wooyoung threw himself back in an attempt to dunk you back in for the tease.
"You brat! Say you love me back!" he whined with an exaggerated pout making you give in.
"Fine! Fine! I love you too!"
The charged atmosphere broke as you hummed, body pressed against his in his undressed state.
It seemed Wooyoung had noticed the same thing as you. His eyes darkened as he stared into yours.
Genre: angst, fluff
Word count: 8394
Warnings: blackmail, toxic relationship, graphic violence, mention of a car accident, an annoying fake fiancé he's really an asshole he kisses the reader without consent twice, jealous and red haired Wooyoung because that's a warning. If you don't feel comfortable please don't read!
Author: Maari
Note: You have no idea how much I love Wooyoung in the halazia era. I'm watching a lot of forbidden love stuff, this obsession will pass
Summary: You were ready to confess your love to Wooyoung, but a complicated and dead-end situation changed your plans. Now you don't know whether to let him in or push him away.
Taglist: @foxinnie8
⪢ Ateez Masterlist
“Woo, I already said I’ll arrive tomorrow morning.”
“But I miss you.”
Y/N even tried to contain her shy smile but it was in vain, hearing even on the other side of the phone Wooyoung's voice admitting so clearly what she also felt made her feel like she was a teenager.
“You talk as if I’ve been away for a year.”
“That’s what it seemed like to me.” she could clearly see the scene of him pouting. “No one complains about my socks lying around my room or the mess on my desk because of work.”
She took her hotel room card from her pocket as she walked down the hallway.
“I already told you that I don’t know how your mother manages to have you and your mess in her house.”
“Is this an invitation for me to move into your house?”
Maybe it was that whole month away from each other, but he seemed much more seductive over the phone, even with the usual jokes, it seemed like he wanted to find a way to flirt with her.
And well, she wouldn't complain.
She and Wooyoung had gone on a date a while ago, when the poor man was available from his work as a photographer, even though they had known each other for a little over two years it seemed like that day had been different.
And it was, because their first kiss happened in such a special way that Y/N could still feel the texture of his lips tattooed on her own. Soon after, it was her turn to travel for work and since then they haven't had time to talk about their situation. What kind of relationship did they have, even though it was clear that they both liked each other in a way that went beyond friendship.
“Do you think it’s that easy to live with me?” she replied and heard his laugh echo through the line. She was missing him so much. “I’ll want something in return.”
“Um, I know what to give you.” His voice was full of malice and she laughed, embarrassed, feeling her cheeks burn.
"You're impossible!" she said, reaching the bedroom door.
“And you like it anyway.”
She didn't even bother to deny it because it would be a lie, she just didn't want to confess over the phone. She needed to say it looking into his eyes.
“I have to go, I need to pack my bag.” She said and unlocked the door.
“Okay, come back soon. Seriously." he practically begged and she smirked.
"I promise."
The call was disconnected and she entered the room with a silly smile on her face, her stomach churning with anxiety every time she thought or spoke to Wooyoung.
It had been routine for the last month, to compensate for the distance they spoke every day.
Y/N turned on the light in the room and her smile fell when she saw that someone was sitting in the armchair next to the bed, her blood ran cold and she took a step back to leave.
Until she heard the familiar voice.
“Hello, Y/N. Did you miss me, love?”
She strained her eyes and recognized the face that held a pretentious smile.
“Chase.” her voice was barely a whisper.
He smiled widely and she knew it was because she had shown weakness in front of him.
"What are you doing here?" she asked more firmly. “How did you know I was here?”
"What do you think?" His false naivety was starting to irritate her and that answer wasn't what she wanted. “You should start choosing your friends better.”
Y/N felt her jaw drop as her heart ached from the betrayal, it wasn't like she didn't expect it but the disappointment couldn't be contained.
She and Chase went out twice a while ago, he was friends with her best friend and that's how they met. But Y/N didn't feel anything special about the boy, he was handsome, tall, rich and successful, but none of that seemed to matter to Y/N who could only see arrogance in him.
In fact, the only person that haunted her mind during the time she spent with him was Wooyoung. Nobody seemed to be better than him.
After the dates, he seemed more and more interested in her, he sent gifts, flowers, called every day and Y/N found any excuse or pretext to get away, she didn't want to go out with him again, she didn't even want to have a conversation with him because the matters seemed so superficial.
And when she kissed Wooyoung, it was like the entire experience with Chase had been erased.
He became a completely forgettable person.
Of course she politely dumped him and then blocked his number.
But the man, unlike what he had said via message, didn't seem to have given up.
Since he had gone there to the hotel where she was.
She swallowed the urge to cry and went to the door, opening it.
"Get out of my room."
Chase didn't move, he crossed his legs and put his hands together and brought them up to his mouth, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair.
“How is your brother?”
Y/N felt her neck crack so fast she turned to face him. Now instead of feeling her blood run cold, was bubbling with anger.
She knew Chase well enough to understand what he meant.
Y/N's brother was being accused of murder after a car accident, she knew he was innocent but there was no proof of that, not even witnesses. It was just his word about how the alleged victim's car had run a red light, lost control and crashed into him that was in the right of way for the green light. The victim died at the scene and Y/N's brother had been seriously injured, he was still in custody at the hospital as he was recovering but the victim's family sued Y/N's brother the next day.
Y/N's family's life had been turned upside down and that was why she was committed to working overtime, so she could pay the best-known criminal lawyer in the country.
She needed to help her brother.
She didn't respond to Chase, just took a deep breath and stared at the floor, squeezing the door handle tightly.
“I can help, you know.” he started talking. “I can get your brother and his record cleared again.”
She laughed, ironically.
“And what do you want in return?”
She knew he wasn't saying that because he was a good guy. Wooyoung would give her the world without expecting anything in return, but Chase wasn't Wooyoung.
"You."
He got up from the chair and Y/N looked at him offended.
“You marry me and in return your brother will be absolved.” he proposed and started walking towards her who didn't say anything. “You know my dad is a federal judge, he can help.”
Anger was written all over Y/N's face, she was breathing heavily now.
“That’s not helping, that’s blackmail.” she spat out the words and he raised his hand to caress her face, she moved away as far as she could.
“You’re so beautiful when you’re mad.”
She rolled her eyes.
“What if I say no?” she lifted her chin, trying to keep herself strong.
He smiled sideways and brought his face closer to hers, she just narrowed her eyes, feeling her nose itch as she breathed in his perfume.
“Then he will be judged guilty even though he did nothing.”
She laughed in disbelief and tried to find some trace of something that could indicate that he wasn't serious but she couldn't find it.
And it was like her mind snapped.
“You know he’s innocent.” It wasn't a question and he didn't even seem surprised by the statement.
“Where do you think the highway footage is?”
Y/N's eyes filled with tears, it was as if the entire weight of the world had rested on her shoulders.
So her brother could be happy and free but she would become unhappy and trapped?
She was about to be the happiest woman in the world because she would be next to the man she loved.
She had nothing to think about, she wouldn't be the reason for an injustice happening to her own family.
“If I accept, will you hand over the footage to the police?” she asked, feeling her throat close up.
Chase nodded, his eyes were shining victoriously and she hated it.
But if it was the only way to save her brother, she would do it. She didn't wanted the process to drag on any longer than it already was.
Y/N let out an ok so low, showing how much she didn't want to accept that offer.
“Pack your bags, my love. You come back with me today.”
“My ticket is already paid, I’m going tomorrow.” was all she managed to say.
“Fair enough, we’ll have our whole lives to be together.”
Chase brought both hands to Y/N's face and pulled her against her will to leave a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room.
The tears that had previously stopped in her eyes ran down her face as she wiped her forehead to remove any trace of Chase's lips on her skin.
Y/N closed the door with a thud and her body gave way, she sat on the floor while crying compulsively feeling as if strong chains were tied around her wrists.
[...]
“Y/N, this is the fourth time Wooyoung is calling, you need to answer.”
Y/N's mother spoke as she entered her room, making her sigh.
She had been managing to avoid Wooyoung for two weeks, telling him that she would have to postpone her return from the trip because she still had a lot of work to do, it was a lie of course but he didn't need to know.
She knew he was suspicious, he hadn't really believed it when she texted him the next day saying she wouldn't be back. She had done this because she didn't know what to say to him when she met him.
How would she explain that she was going to marry a guy she didn't even like, after everything they happened between them so far?
Could it seem like she was a coward? Yes and she felt that way, but avoiding Wooyoung even though her heart called for him was the only way out she found.
“I’m gonna call him later, mom.” she replied, not looking into her mother's eyes, distracting herself by putting the watch on her wrist.
“You’ve been avoiding him since you came back.” her mother noted. “That's because of Chase, isn’t it?”
Y/N faltered and almost told her mother everything that was happening if she didn't know her mother would make her act with reason. In other words, would make her give up from that insanity.
“I don’t know how he will react about the wedding.” She shrugged and busy herself with putting her things in her bag.
Probably would react the same way her family did, in shock and confusion. One day she had gone to work and the next she was coming back engaged to a guy they didn't even know?
Everyone knew that Wooyoung was in love with Y/N even before they both knew, and that she reciprocated, so the fact that the groom wasn't Wooyoung was quite confusing.
And the look on Y/N's mother's face said exactly that, even though she hadn't elaborated on the subject any further.
“Don’t hurt him.” her mother asked and her shoulders slumped.
She went to her mother and kissed her cheek, trying to smile slightly.
“I would never do that intentionally.” The mother agreed, she knew her daughter's intention but didn't know the reasons that were making her make that decision. “I have a meeting with the wedding photographer, I think I won’t be back for a while.” She explained.
“Is Chase coming to get you?”
Y/N tried hard not to grimace when she remembered that detail.
“He’s already waiting for me.”
The mother crossed her arms and before turned into an interrogation, Y/N decided to leave the house and came face to face with Chase outside the car.
She twisted her mouth and went straight to the passenger side, he hurried to open the door.
“I thought I was going in.”
Y/N frowned and sat down on the car seat.
"Why?"
He closed the door and went to the driver's side.
“Isn’t it time to meet your parents?”
She huffed and buckled the seatbelt as he started the car.
“Do this on your wedding day.” she replied impatiently, turning her face to look at the window and not him.
The last thing she wanted was to hear his voice the whole way. Every day that passed, every second that she was in his company only made her anger grow.
The only thing she felt for him was contempt.
She didn't know why he was so insistent that she accompany him to the meeting with the photographer, since most things about the wedding were his decisions, but she needed to or else her parents would be even more suspicious since the wedding was in a month.
They arrived at a coffee shop she didn't know, Chase tried to place his palm on her back but Y/N moved away, showing that she didn't wanted any physical contact.
He didn't complain out loud but it was clear that it had bothered him. He led her to a table and she saw a young man sitting with his back with newly dyed red hair. She had the impression that she knew those broad shoulders but blinked a few times trying to get that thought out of her head
She constantly saw him everywhere in the last few days, it was just a projection of her own desires.
“Jung?” Chase caught the boy's attention and he turned to face the couple with a wide smile on his face.
But the same smile on Y/N's face fell away the moment she recognized him.
Wooyoung stood up from the chair with his eyes fixed on Y/N, visibly shocked to see her there, he looked at Chase who extended his hand.
“Chase, right?” he asked still stunned, shaking his hand.
"That's right." she heard amusement in Chase's voice. “This is my fiancée, Y/N.”
The exchange of glances between the two although it took only a few seconds, seemed to last an eternity, he was speechless and she wanted to explain herself but this was neither the place nor the time.
"Nice to meet you." she spoke quickly, extending her hand to him who held it without understanding why she was pretending she didn't know him.
Wooyoung just nodded with a restrained smile.
As soon as they sat down, Y/N right in front of Wooyoung, he tried to maintain the professional pose and completely ignored his heart.
While looking and talking to Chase he even managed to act professionally so he started not looking towards Y/N, since she herself hadn't opened her mouth to say a single word but it was obvious that the weight of her gaze was making Wooyoung's task of ignoring her even more difficult.
He wanted to confront her, hearing the love plans coming from Chase's mouth filled with a boastful tone was irritating him deeply and the fact that she was standing there quiet made it even worse.
But he realized that something wasn't right when Chase announced that the pre-wedding photos, which would take place over the weekend, would be taken in a city park as he pointed out that the fountain there would be a great setting.
Y/N hated public places and the sun. That specific weekend would be one of the hottest of the year and he knew the park, the fountain attracted families who took their children to play with the waterfalls.
It was a great photo spot, that was true, but not for Y/N.
Wooyoung had his left eyebrow raised and his locked teeth highlighted the perfect shape of his jaw even more, Y/N looked at him with shame and deep sadness, at no point did he direct his attention to her even for a second. Of course she understood the reason but that didn't stop the wound in her heart from opening even wider.
It was enough for both of them when, after planning everything for the weekend, Chase got up and pulled Y/N by her hand not so gently, holding both sides of her face preventing her from moving away he placed his lips on hers.
Wooyoung clenched his fists, breathing heavily when he saw that Y/N in addition to not reciprocating also tried to move away, her lips in a thin line while her arms stayed at her sides.
Although he was extremely angry about the situation, he wanted to laugh at the man's desperation in trying to mark his territory as if he were a dog, all that was left was to lift his paw and piss on her.
Chase walked away with a wide smile on his face and said goodbye to Wooyoung who returned an ironic smile and for the first time his eyes met Y/N's. Even though he needed an explanation from her, when he noticed that she had a disgusted expression and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, it was enough for him to draw his own conclusions.
Something was very wrong and he was going to find out what it was.
[...]
Y/N wanted that day to end as quickly as possible.
She hadn't even started the photo shoot and was already hating every minute of it. First, it was a hot and muggy day, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky and she was already sweating because of it. Secondly she was hating the dress she was wearing, a pre-wedding gift from Chase, the dress was tight in the wrong places and more see-through than she would have liked, she was feeling completely uncomfortable.
Thirdly, because pretending for who knows how many hours that she was terribly in love with her fiance was tiring just imagining it.
But she followed the plan, went to the park feeling her hands cold and her heart beating fast thinking about Wooyoung. She hoped the whole way that he had assigned someone from his team to take the photos, so she could sigh in the corners without anyone knowing that he was the reason.
The last person she imagined meeting in that coffee shop was him, with so many photographers around town how could she have predicted that he would be the one hired. Also she would never imagine him with red hair like that and how handsome he would look. She shouldn't have found his serious expression so attractive but it would be a lie if she said that his new look hadn't messed with her.
Just seeing the red hair from miles away made her legs tremble and it became even more difficult to control her breathing when his eyes met hers. She could see the hurt he felt and it made her shoulders sag.
"Hey." she greeted him shyly.
The tension was so clear that anyone passing by would be able to tell.
"Hey." he replied quietly, looking to the sides. “Your fiancé is not coming?” His voice carried sarcasm and she took a deep breath.
Yeah, maybe she deserved that.
“He was supposed to be here.” she muttered and diverted her attention to take her phone out of her bag. At the same time as she unlocked the screen the phone rang, a call from Chase. "Where are you?" she answered.
She heard a heavy cough on the other side and frowned.
"At home." his voice didn't sound good at all, not that she really cared.
"You won't come?" she asked in disbelief and that caught Wooyoung's attention.
“I'm sick, my love, I only managed to get out of bed to vomit.”
She shouldn't have but a slight smile appeared on her face.
So does that mean she would be free from him all day? Finally her wishes were being granted.
“Then we better reschedule.”
“Do whatever you want, Y/N, my head is exploding.”
Chase hung up the call and she looked at her phone in surprise for a few seconds while her heart jumped with joy, turning to face Wooyoung she saw him with his eyebrow raised and it was very difficult not to sigh.
Even though he was wearing simple black clothes, he could take her breath away like no other could.
“He’s not coming.” she shrugged, sounding much more excited than she should have been.
“He should at least let us know in advance.” he replied, adjusting the strap of his camera bag over his shoulder. “I’m not his employee.” he continued, irritated.
“I know, sorry about that, Woo.”
He shook his head.
“Don’t apologize for his actions, it doesn’t suit you.”
They exchanged a long look, perhaps the longest since the meeting in the cafeteria, trying to look for answers to questions they hadn't yet asked and perhaps already found.
"Why are you doing this?" he questioned, making her swallow hard.
“Photos are a…”
He laughed, humorlessly.
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” he interrupted her and Y/N was silent.
She knew exactly what he was referring to and the only thing she wanted to do was tell him the truth.
“Let’s not talk about it, please.” she begged or else would actually tell him why.
Y/N made to move away but Wooyoung gently grabbed her wrist, not only making her stop in place but also causing a shiver to run through her body.
She looked down at his hand, feeling all the heat from his palm and went up until she met his eyes. Her legs gave way, of course, her heart was racing so fast that even though they were in a public place he could easily hear it.
“You owe me an explanation.” Y/N looked away. He was right, she did but couldn't. “Out of nowhere you have a fiancé?”
“That’s not how it happened.” she said without looking him in the eye.
“Is that why you won’t look me in the eye?” he questioned, she felt his eyes on her and yet she didn't return them, just looked around afraid that someone would see them there.
Realizing what Y/N was doing, he pulled her without hurting to a more distant area, covered by trees and literally empty, he released his grip but stayed close to her staring at her in the same way, deeply as if he could see the answer she was giving in her expressions.
“Woo, please don’t do that.” she begged closing her eyes, she didn't have the strength to keep lying to him.
“Give me one good reason to believe in this engagement.” She opened her eyes and looked at him without the courage to admit it. “You don’t like when he touches you, I saw the disgusted face you made when he kissed you.” her jaw dropped. “And you were happy he wasn't coming, so unless your love language is not showing any affection, which I know isn't true, explain to me why you're going to marry him in a month. ”
Y/N started to sweat even more and reached for the straps of her dress, as if that would somehow alleviate her nervousness and consequently the heat. But she knew it wouldn't until saying what was stuck in her throat.
“Everything we experienced couldn’t have been a lie.” the sad and giving up tone of Wooyoung's voice made Y/N's heartbreak even more.
That's why she approached him, bringing both hands to the sides of his face making him look into her eyes.
"It wasn’t." she replied with conviction. “Believe me, I have never been happier than when I was with you.”
"So, what is happening? Tell me, please." he pleaded.
“He’s blackmailing me.” she spoke at once without breathing or blinking, and it was as if half a ton had been lifted off her shoulders.
She could only feel confidence through his eyes, she wouldn't be able to continue carrying this burden alone.
"What?"
Y/N sighed before continuing, her eyes filling with tears.
“He has the footage that proves my brother is innocent but he will only hand it over after the wedding.” her voice wavered at the end and Wooyoung looked at her in terror, not believing that someone could do that. “If I didn’t accept it, my brother would be unjustly arrested!”
Unable to say anything, he pulled her into a tight protective hug, Y/N buried her face in his neck and cried as he stroked her back. All the anger he had felt in that coffee shop seemed so small to what Y/N was going through alone, because he knew her so well that he was sure she hadn't told anyone that in order to protect her family.
It was too heavy a guilt for her to bear alone.
And he would help her, one way or another.
[...]
Y/N rolled her eyes when she saw Chase standing at the door of her house with a cheeky smile on his face, she snorted when he walked in uninvited.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, still holding the door open and saw him sit on the couch as if he were in his own home.
“I came to meet your parents, are they there?” He looked around and she had to take a deep breath to keep from screaming at him.
“They are in the hospital.” she replied with a boring tone.
“Great, you can stay at the door because the photographer is coming here.” he advised, catching her attention as she narrowed her eyes.
"Why?" she questioned, not understanding.
“We have some unfinished business to resolve with him since the pre-wedding has been postponed.” he said in a tone of obviousness and Y/N closed the door slowly, taking a deep breath.
“And why did you call him here?”
She saw the same amused smile on Chase's face that irritated her, he didn't respond immediately, just analyzed her noticing the fear in her eyes.
“Did you want me to take some mr. nobody to our apartment?’
Y/N locked her jaw both in anger and to prevent her from defending Wooyoung right away, it would be obvious to Chase what she felt for Wooyoung and she didn't need any more threats but she also felt there was something beyond that unexpected visit.
And to think that she had spent 3 days away from him and any interaction, she would give anything to have that peace again while he was sick.
Before she could think of how to respond, the doorbell rang and that was the moment her heart skipped a beat. It was the most painful dilemma she could be living in, she wanted so much to see Wooyoung again since after she had confessed what had happened they were keeping daily calls and he was being so understanding with her - it only made her fall in love with him even more - , but she didn't want Chase to use Wooyoung.
Because she knew he was up to something and she didn't know how much she could hide from him.
She answered the door with cold hands and gave Wooyoung a nervous smile, both didn't needed to say anything for him to notice the tension, his eyes swept the house and found Chase sitting as if he were a king. His serious expression mixed with anger appeared and he even tried to give Y/N a polite smile but they couldn't even call it a smile.
She directed Wooyoung to sit in the armchair while she stood, but Chase had other plans.
“I’m sorry about what happened over the weekend, I wasn’t feeling very well.” he took the opportunity to pull Y/N by the hand and make her sit on the couch beside him.
He also put his hand on her knee, Wooyoung just watched him in silence, trying not to show how much that attitude was irritating him.
“Don’t worry, it happens more than you think.” he faked a smile. “It must be the wedding anxiety.”
Y/N looked at Wooyoung carefully, he seemed determined not to fall for Chase's trick who, not satisfied, began to squeeze her knee with unnecessary force.
“Maybe that’s what it should be, it’s not every day that we get to marry the woman of our life.” Y/N tried to break Chase's grip by holding onto his fist but it was impossible considering he was much stronger than her.
“Few are lucky enough to have reciprocal love.”
Y/N would have laughed at the exchange of barbs between the two - Wooyoung's hint was explicit - if Chase's fingers weren't hurting her knee, her face contorted into a grimace of pain that was seen by Wooyoung.
He clenched his fists and almost managed to get up and pull Chase away from Y/N.
“Can you give me some water, please?” he asked, trying to get her to move away from him somehow.
"Sure!" her voice came out thinner than usual, Chase released his hand from her knee as soon as she got up from the couch.
At the same moment his phone rang, apologizing he went to another room to answer it while Y/N looked at Wooyoung to follow her to the kitchen, he did so and as soon as they arrived, they were both able to release the breath they had been holding.
"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly and she went to the fridge to get a bottle, nodding. “You won't marry that animal.”
She turned to hold out the water bottle and crossed her arms when he took it.
"I don't have a choice." she whispered.
“I’m not going to let you live with that asshole.” he snapped, angrily spitting out the words. “He hurt you.” he pointed to her leg, Y/N was wearing shorts so the place where Chase had squeezed was visible, it was red, she even tried to cover it with her hands by lowering her head but it was no use. “Not just physically.”
Y/N stood up to look at him, he was so serious that the vein in his neck stood out, rarely had she seen him like that, his red hair matched the fire of hatred he felt.
She couldn't deny it, not when he was right. The pain in her body was very small compared to the pain in her heart and she didn't know what to do, although she agreed with Wooyoung that she shouldn't marry Chase, she didn't see any other way to help her brother.
So she just stood there, silently staring at him. He took advantage and approached her slowly, placing his hands on her shoulders so he could comfort her and also give her strength.
“Don’t push me away.” he begged, making her sigh. “I’ll find a way to help you out of this, but you need to let me in.” she looked away, afraid of the answer she wanted to give. It wouldn't be fair to involve him in that mess. But he didn't give up, he raised his hands to both sides of her face and slowly lifted her, looking deep into her eyes and just whispered. "Please."
How could she deny anything in those eyes?
"Alright." she agreed quietly and he smiled lightly.
That was enough for now.
He started to hug her, he wanted to be able to wrap himself around her to the point of protecting her from anything, but Y/N heard footsteps coming from the room and quickly moved away from Wooyoung, keeping a safe distance so that Chase wouldn't notice what was happening there.
He arrived at the door and Wooyoung pretended to act like he was a stranger.
"Thank you so much." he handed the bottle back to Y/N as if he had actually drunk it and she just nodded. “Well, I'm leaving now. I have other clients to talk to.”
He glanced at Y/N and started walking to leave the kitchen.
“So see you this weekend.” Chase spoke as soon as Wooyoung passed him, making him raise his eyebrow.
He turned to face Chase and it took a lot of strength not to wipe the victorious smile off his face with his own hands, but he just smiled back.
He didn't even know what was coming.
“If you don’t have any other unforeseen circumstances.”
Y/N tried to contain her laughter in vain, receiving Chase's furious look and Wooyoung's complicit look, he left rolling his eyes at Y/N's fiancé leaving the two alone with his heart in his hands.
He couldn't bear to imagine her alone with that idiot but for now it had to be like that, until he found a way to help her.
“Was that funny to you?” Chase asked as soon as he heard the living room door close.
She huffed, leaving the bottle on the sink.
“I have no time for your dramas.” she retorted and followed the same way as Wooyoung.
However, she barely reached the room, as Chase grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice the exchange of looks between you.” he spoke threateningly and she tried not to show how much it affected her.
That's why she decided to pretend she didn't understand.
"I don't know what you're talking about." She tried to pull her arm away but he tightened his grip. “Can you let me go?” she asked, a little more firmly.
“Don’t even try to have your bachelorette party with the photographer. It won’t be worth it anyway.”
Y/N felt her palm itch to slap him but realized she didn't need to, the fact that Chase's ego was hurt because of Wooyoung was enough for her at that moment.
“Said the man who is using blackmail to have a woman who doesn’t love him.” she replied in a sarcastic tone and he forcefully brought her closer. "What are you gonna do?" she smiled wryly. "Hit me?"
She couldn't reveal what she really felt for Wooyoung but she had enough strength to defy him, knowing that she could count on Wooyoung had given her the courage she needed in that situation and for the first time she left him without an answer.
Now more than ever she was committed to finding a way not to get married.
[...]
Y/N was already lying in bed, looking at the ceiling reflecting on everything and nothing at the same time, her parents were already sleeping in the other room and the house was completely pitch black, indicating that it was already late at night. }
She couldn't sleep, no matter how much she turned in bed, she didn't even need to look at the clock on her phone to know that it was already dawn and she had wasted a lot of time lying there.
The device vibrated next to the bed and she jumped in fright, she almost didn't look at her phone because she wasn't in the mood but her curiosity was greater.
When she unlocked the screen she saw a message from Wooyoung.
'Open the door'
She sat on the bed as soon as she read the message with a frown, replied asking which door and received the answer quickly.
‘From the entrance, I’m here.’
Y/N's jaw dropped and she got out of bed hurriedly, without remembering the thin fabric pajamas she was wearing she left the room trying to be silent, leaving her phone in the room. She went to the living room without turning on the lights and opened the door slowly so as not to make any noise, he was standing there in front of her with a worried expression.
Before she could question why he was there, Wooyoung took a long step and pulled her into an almost desperate hug, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her neck.
Y/N just reciprocated, confused but happy to be able to breathe deeply against the heat of his body, she didn't count how long they stayed there but neither of them separated anytime soon.
"Are you well?" he whispered and his breath against her skin made her shiver.
"Yes, I am."
Now she was much better with him there.
He pulled away and his eyes darted to Y/N's outfit.
“Nice outfit.” he jerked his head towards her pajamas, making her blush.
"Silly." she pushed him lightly and he laughed softly, closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here at this time?”
“I couldn’t sleep, I kept thinking about what that monster was going to do to you.” he admitted and she smirked.
“Modesty aside, I defended myself very well.” she said, proudly and he narrowed his eyes.
"Yeah?" he crossed his arms. "What did you say?"
She shrugged.
"The truth. That he is blackmailing a woman who doesn't even love him, it's the only way he can be with me.”
He smiled proudly and admiringly, barely able to stop his hand from going to the back of her head. Y/N did nothing but look him in the eyes and sigh.
"The only way?"
Her cheeks burned violently at Wooyoung's low and seductive tone, but she liked that feeling, it was reminiscent of their first kiss.
“He’s gonna live with the fact that my heart will never be his.” she was sincere, making him bring their bodies closer together again.
“You say as if your heart already has an owner.” he tried to contain a smile but Y/N saw it too well, moving her hand from his arm to his shoulder making him shiver.
"And has." she replied with conviction, making him raise an eyebrow. "You."
His smile grew at the same time that a sparkle appeared in his eyes, she just returned the smile. Wooyoung then took his other hand to her waist, wrapping his arm around her and took a few steps forward, automatically she walked backwards until she felt the hard surface of the wall and of course her legs faltered.
“We are so corny.” he whispered and she laughed. “We look like two teenagers in love.”
“And aren’t we?”
He laughed softly and in response brought his face closer to Y/N's, stroking her nose with his own, she just closed her eyes while her heart accelerated considerably.
He didn't rush anything even though their already heavy breaths hit each other, they both just needed that stolen moment in hope that it would last forever.
It was Wooyoung who ended the little distance that remained, hot and eager lips met in an intense and quick kiss, their bodies missed the textures of each other's lips. It was as if they had been away from each other's arms for years.
They didn't wanted to wait to lose themselves in that feeling of wet lips molding perfectly, as if they were made for each other.
When the tongues took over the action, Wooyoung's hand went to the back of Y/N's head and increased the speed of the kiss, making her hug him by the shoulders with both arms to be firm or else she would fall.
Air at that moment seemed like such a small detail, they wanted to get lost in that kiss, in each other's tastes.
And that's exactly what they did, until their lungs hurt.
It was Y/N who broke the kiss, not because she really wanted to but because she needed to, she just didn't count that Wooyoung would distribute kisses all over her face and down to her jaw followed by her neck, there would be no way her legs would stay steady anyway.
"What are we doing?" she asked with a wide smile on her face and still with her eyes closed.
“We are loving each other.” he responded against her skin, making goosebumps emerge as he began to give light bites. "So much."
Y/N brought her hands to the back of his neck, caressing while he didn't seem to be satisfied with the wet kisses he was giving on her skin.
“Woo.” she called him and in response he gave a light bite right below her ear, she had to bite her own lower lip to keep from letting out a moan.
That's why she took a hand to his hair and pulled without much force, to make him look at her.
"Don't do that." he said biting his lower lip as well and she got lost in the intense glow of passion in his eyes.
“You know how much I wanted to ask you to stay.” Suddenly her mouth went dry just with his eyes looking at her so closely and she had to wet her lips with her own tongue.
"I know." he smiled lightly and his hand went to her cheek where he caressed it slowly, making her close her eyes momentarily. "I'm leaving."
Although she nodded, the last thing she wanted was for him to leave.
“One more kiss and I’ll be gone.” he asked and she smiled sideways.
He approached for a new kiss, this time with the taste of a painful goodbye but also with the certainty that it wouldn't be the last between them.
Y/N was sure once again that she could spend the whole night in his arms.
[...]
“Your father just called.” Y/N's mother stopped at the kitchen door. “It seems that a witness has emerged in your brother’s favor.”
Y/N opened her eyes wide and went to her mother.
"Like how? When?"
“Apparently there was a witness with the guy in the other car, they were in a bar or something, he saw the guy leave the place completely drunk and speeding more than he should have.”
Y/N felt a wave of relief course through her body.
“But why did he only appear now?” she questioned, still a little lost.
“The lawyer said he didn’t know what had happened before, when he found out about the case he went to the police to tell them what he saw that day.”
Y/N's jaw dropped and she blinked several times.
"And now?"
“I’m going to the hospital to tell your brother.” said and she nodded. “Your father will meet me there.”
"Alright, mom. As soon as I get off work, I’ll stop by the hospital.”
The two said goodbye and Y/N went to brush her teeth as soon as her mother left the house, after finishing she picked up her bag on the sofa and went to the door, looking for the key that seemed to be hidden in the middle of her things in the bag.
She was too busy to notice that Chase was at the door just waiting for her to open and when she did, he took her bag and threw it far into the house, making her startle and lift her head to look at him.
Chase entered the house and grabbed her arms, shaking her.
“Do you think you can do this to me?” He asked, completely irritated and she looked at him scared.
"Are you crazy?" she spoke louder, trying to get away from his hands in vain.
“You really are a slut, all I had to do was turn my back and you stabbed me.”
"What are you talking about?"
Chase laughed in disbelief.
“From your little show last night.” she frowned. “Of course you would rub yourself against the photographer at the first opportunity like a slut.”
Y/N was unresponsive for a moment and her silence made Chase shake her harder, angrily.
"Answer me!"
“How did you-” she barely finished the sentence because he interrupted her.
"What do you think? I put a camera in this room.” Y/N looked at him completely offended. “I wanted to make sure your affair with him wasn’t just an illusion in my head.”
She shook her head, unable to believe that this was happening because she knew that he was fully capable of doing something absurd like that.
All the frustrations, fears, insecurities and doubts since Chase had blackmailed her had taken over her but now she had more than hope, she was sure that she would no longer have the weight of her wrongfully convicted brother on her shoulders.
Relief came and with it her voice became firmer and even louder.
"You really wanna know? Yes, I kissed him.” she admitted and with all the strength she had, she freed herself from his grip. “And I plan on kissing Wooyoung for the rest of my life!” he glared at her as she took steps back. “I love him and your blackmail is no longer strong because my brother will be free with or without the footage.” she smiled widely and saw him falter for a few seconds. “I'm not marrying you, Chase, ever. Not even if humanity depends on it. Now get out of my house!”
Her breathing became labored, the screams she gave were of freedom and she felt light. However, Chase didn't look happy at all.
He blinked a few times and then advanced on her, holding her jaw with one hand while with the other he grabbed her waist and made her lean against the wall.
Y/N started to struggle, trying to push him away.
"I will not give up on you." he warned. “I’m gonna have you back.”
“You can't get it back what was never yours.” she replied between her teeth, she was feeling suffocated by his presence and his hand on her face.
“We’ll see.”
He lifted Y/N's face and decided to attack her neck with kisses that made Y/N start punching his chest to make him move away.
"Let me go!" she screamed, feeling disgusted every time his mouth touched her skin and tears began to form. "Stop it.”
“If you’re not going to be mine, you’re not going to be anyone else’s.” he spoke angrily and began to hug her around the waist to stop her from continuing to fight.
"Help! Somebody help."
That was Y/N's last scream before Chase was pushed away from her, he staggered back in confusion while Y/N cried against the wall.
“Get your filthy paws off her.” Wooyoung's voice echoed through the room, the harsh tone betraying how angry he was.
Seeing Y/N being grabbed against her will by that idiot had made him see red the moment he reached his feet at the entrance of the house, he didn't see anything else, he just walked up to the two and threw Chase away.
“Woo.” Her shaky voice made him step in front of her protectively, she grabbed the dark denim vest he was wearing.
“If you touch her one more time, I’ll break your arm.” he warned and Chase laughed wryly.
“I’m not scared of a loser like you.”
“Try it if you’re a man.”
Chase felt provoked and then advanced on Wooyoung who did the same before he could get close to Y/N, she even tried to stop him while still holding his clothes but she couldn't, Wooyoung applied the first blow. A hard punch to Chase's face, enough to make a loud noise and the man staggered to the side as Wooyoung threw another punch at him.
Chase held him by the waist and pushed him against the wall, Wooyoung hit his back but managed to retaliate by kneeing him in the stomach.
“Stop!” Y/N screamed desperately when she saw that neither of them were going to stop. "Stop it!"
When Wooyoung was punched in the face, she ran to the bag thrown on the floor and grabbed her phone in desperation, dialing the emergency number.
It was time for Wooyoung to strike one more time and immobilize him by the neck she had already called the police.
“I should break your neck for daring to blackmail and touch my girl.” he spoke quietly to Chase who was trying to free himself. “But you’re not worth it.”
He released him, kicking him in the back as he sucked in the air he'd lost lying on the floor.
Wooyoung stood up and looked at him with disgust, Y/N ran to him worried.
"Are you ok?" she asked while analyzing his face, he had blood in the corner of his mouth and his hands were red from the punches he had given and even though he was breathing heavily, he was standing as if nothing had happened.
"I am fine." he replied, looking at her with a bit of guilt.
Her neck was red and just from those marks he wanted to keep punching Chase.
"Come here." He pulled her into a hug, without taking his eyes off Chase, he looked really hurt.
And even though he shouldn't have felt this way Wooyoung was proud of himself for leaving him where he belonged.
The floor.
Y/N buried her face in Wooyoung's neck and tried to reduce the adrenaline in her blood by taking deep breaths of his scent to calm down.
In the background, sirens could be heard indicating they were arriving.
That was why Wooyoung pulled Y/N further away from Chase, so they could have a little more privacy while the police arrived.
"Are you ok?" he asked quietly and the answer he got was Y/N nodding.
“I’m glad you didn’t break anything, or else my mom would be mad.” she spoke against his skin and he laughed, at the sensation and her concern at that moment.
“Mad at her son-in-law for defending her daughter?” he asked in a slightly calmer tone.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again.” she asked and pulled away enough to look at him.
He took a deep breath and nodded, in a serious tone he asked “Was it sexy at least?”
Your Gentle Hands (They Feel Like Home To Me). || Kim Hongjoong. [ Part I ]
Summary: meeting the local outcast shouldn't have ended with you slowly falling for him. yet you did, all while knowing you could never have this man, because you were already someones else's wife. two lovers, a dress shop, and a violent man between it all. we all know how this ends, right? ... right?
Pairing: dressmaker!kim hongjoong x fem. reader
Genre: angst, fluff
Wordcount: 15k
Warnings: playing in the 1800s so general warning for that, reader is married to a very violent man, emotional (justified) infidelity??, misogyny, (domestic) violence, injuries, talks about religion and people suffering because of it, blood, murder, i think that's it??
A/N: can't believe it's finally here. oh my gawd. i love this piece so much but yod did i struggle with it i'm so glad i can finally post part 1. i would really really appreciate reblogs, comments and likes too but reblogs are so helpful so please do it if you liked it it wiuld help me immensely. also comment if anyone would like to be tagged for part 2! and now onto the most important part: the biggest thanks and hugs and kisses to @yessa-vie and @ghstzzn because without them this fic would've long been in the damn trash can holy moly. also thank you so so much to @seulrinnie-rinrin for beating this last minute, i'm so thankful really!! and as always divider credits to @firefly-graphics!
The years have been harsh to us, and the cracks in our marriage grow wider with each passing day. Your hands, once embracing me so gentle and loving, now leave bruises upon my skin that no amount of powder or paint can conceal.
I dare not speak of the pain that lingers within me, for fear of invoking your wrath once more. Yet, the time has come for me to break the chains that bind me to this wretched existence and find solace in the arms of another.
Know this, my dear husband, I shall not suffer in silence any longer. Your tyranny shall not be tolerated, and I shall not rest until I am free from the shackles of your oppression.
With every ounce of strength left within me,
[Your Name]
The clock turned midnight.
You sat by the window, the gentle patter of rain against the glass a soothing backdrop to the turmoil raging within your heart. The room felt suffocating, the walls seemingly closing in on you with each passing moment. How long has it been since you last felt a glimmer of hope in this house?
How long has it been since you last felt safe in it?
You closed your eyes. Nothing but silence greeted you.
Good.
The creak of the floorboards beneath your feet sounded deafening in the silence of the night, and you held your breath, afraid that even the slightest noise would awaken him.
Him.
Your husband, or rather: your own personal tormentor.
“He's a good man,” your mother in law screamed, her fingernails marking your skin, her eyes desperate and angry. “Be a good wife and learn to obey and endure. My son said it was a mistake, and so be it!”
The black eye he gave you days later told a different story. Yet it didn't matter.
Once outside, you found yourself drawn to the familiar path that led to the edge of the forest.
Finally stepping outside the small, scruffy looking house, you were greeted by darkness and the occasional chirping of various insects. Luckily, the temperatures were still mild in late September, yet you still pulled the cardigan tighter around you. Despite the darkness and uncertainty that surrounded you, there was a sense of freedom in being away from the suffocating confines of your home.
Just for a little, a few hours, both your mind and body could finally relax.
As you made your way along the familiar path towards the edge of the forest, a sense of anticipation bubbled within you. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to entertain the possibility of a bit of time free from fear and pain. It would only last a short while, making you lose valuable hours of sleep, but still for you, it was enough.
The path before you seemed to stretch on endlessly, disappearing into the darkness of the woods. Tall, gnarled trees loomed overhead, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers towards the heavens. The soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze filled the air, accompanied by the occasional hoot of an owl or the distant cry of a night bird.
The chirping at the insects had stopped entirely.
Despite the late hour, the forest was buzzing with activity. Small creatures - stray cats and dogs known to frequent the area - scurried among the underbrush, their eyes glowing in the darkness as they went about their nocturnal rituals. Every now and then, the faint glimmer of fireflies could be seen darting through the trees, their soft, golden light illuminating the path ahead.
You followed their lead, heart pounding in your chest as you ventured deeper into the forest. For a split second, your mind wandered back to your husband. You knew he was asleep, passed out blank from the amount of alcohol he consumed at The Saloon, the only pub in your village.
Despite knowing he was asleep, the fear lingered like a dark cloud looming over your every thought. The bruises on your skin served as a constant reminder of his violence, and even in his absence, his presence felt suffocating.
“Meow.”
The sound broke the silence of the night, startling you momentarily, making you almost trip over your own feet. Your heart raced as you glanced around, half expecting to see your husband's shadow looming in the darkness. But there was no sign of him, only the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of insects.
He's not here, you reminded yourself, taking a deep, slow breath, it's just a cat. It's okay. You're okay.
As you stood there, trying to calm your racing heart, the source of the meow emerged from the bushes - a small, scruffy-looking cat with fur as dark as the night itself.
It's a beautiful cat, you thought.
You crouched down, extending a tentative hand towards the cat. “Hey there, little one,” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Are you out here all alone?”
The cat looked you up and down for a moment, then cautiously approached, its movements slow and careful at first. It sniffed your outstretched hand, then rubbed its head against your fingers, purring softly.
A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you gently scratched behind the cat's ears.
“Looks like we're both seeking some peace in the night,” you said, your words more for yourself than for the cat. But in that moment, it felt like the cat understood, as if it were offering you silent companionship in this dark, lonely forest.
With a sigh, you leaned back against a nearby tree, the cat following and curling up beside you.
“I should give you a name, right?” you hummed. The cat didn't respond, just continued purring as your fingers went through its unkempt yet soft fur.
“I have the gut feeling that you're a boy, so… let's name you Benji, shall we?”
You giggled as Benji took your hand in his paws, gently biting and licking while his purring filled your ears.
“You like it? What a good, sweet boy.”
Suddenly, a rustling in the bushes nearby startled you, tearing your gaze away from Benji. The cat hissed, and only then you saw what was making the noise: a… goat?
A goat that was now sprinting right at you at full speed. Panicked, you hurried to your feet, backing away slowly only to be met by the tree you previously set by. You turned around to run, but as you did, the goat lunged forward, catching your dress with its horns and tearing the fabric apart. A loud scream - your loud scream - echoed through the night, and you fell to the ground, your knees and hands immediately starting to bleed as they hit the forest floor.
“Help!” you screamed, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart and the goat's relentless assault. In a desperate attempt to escape, you scrambled away, your hands and knees scraping against the rough ground once again, blood mingling with dirt as you crawled towards another tree, away from the animal. “Somebody, please help me!”
Your desperate cries pierced through the darkness. Every fibre of your being screamed for someone to hear your plea and rescue you from this nightmare.
And then, as if conjured by your sheer desperation, a male voice cut through the night.
“Let her be, you damn goat!”
Oh finally.
You turned towards the source of the voice, your heart pounding in your chest as you beheld the figure emerging from the shadows. In the darkness, you couldn't see his features clearly, but the silhouette of a lean figure emerged from the shadows. His stature was not imposing, but there was a quiet strength in the way he carried himself. Short, tousled hair framed his face, and his clean-shaven jawline hinted at a youthful charm. Despite his lean frame, there was a sense of agility and grace in his movements as he approached, his steps purposeful yet cautious. His clothes, though worn and faded, spoke of practicality rather than luxury, and the faint glint of silver caught your eye as moonlight danced upon a necklace around his neck.
“Get back, Django,” he commanded, his voice stern and serious.
For a moment, it seemed as though the goat - Django - hesitated, its wild eyes darting between you and the stranger as if weighing its options. But then, with a defiant snort, the goat actually backed away, its hooves scraping against the forest floor as it retreated back to its owner's side.
You watched in stunned silence as the young man approached, his expression softened by a glimmer of concern. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentler now.
You nodded weakly, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and relief as you struggled to sit up. He offered you a hand, and you accepted it gratefully, allowing him to help you to your feet. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you met his gaze.
Your eyes widened.
You knew this man.
It was hard not to, because the women at the market loved to gossip about him.
“He's a filthy man. Have you seen the dresses he makes? Outrageous.”
His name was Kim Hongjoong, you believed, a man known for his unconventional ways and said ‘outrageous’ dresses he crafted.
The women's cruel words towards him echoed in your mind, their voices dripping with disgust whenever his name was mentioned. They spoke of him as if he were beneath them, a plague, to be avoided at all costs. But as you looked at him now, you saw none of the malice they spoke of, only kindness and a smile etched into his features.
Hongjoong's eyes softened at your words. He had a pretty face, you realised, staring up at him in awe and curiosity.
You are a married woman! Oh Lord, may you save me from those malicious, evil thoughts!
“You shouldn't be out here alone,” he said, his voice tinged with concern.
“I'm always here alone,” you responded. “It's my safe space.”
Instead of pressing you further, his eyes scanned your form, his expression growing more serious as he took in the extent of both your wounds and torn dress.
“It's even worse than I thought…” He looked at Django, who's now freely roaming around, seemingly no longer agitated and angry. “This goddamn goat,” he groaned.
“Is he always like this?” you asked.
Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair as he glanced back at Django with a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Unfortunately, yes,” he replied, “He's a stubborn creature, to say the least. His former owner wanted to slaughter him because he was aggressive towards humans and goats alike, but I convinced him to let me take care of him instead.”
“That's very noble of you,” you remarked, a sense of admiration evident in your voice. “Not many would take in a troubled animal like Django and give him a chance to change.”
Hongjoong offered you a small, appreciative smile, his eyes reflecting a hint of pride. “It hasn't been easy,” he admitted, patting Django's head, “But despite a few angry outbursts here and there, he's actually been adjusting well.”
You hummed, still keeping your distance from the goat that just attacked you. You and him probably won't become friends any time soon.
“Do you think you are able to walk?”
You nodded, though the pain throbbing in your knees and hands contradict your words. “I'll be fine,” you assured him, though your voice faltered slightly as you spoke.
Hongjoong's gaze softened with concern as he observed your state, his brows furrowing slightly with worry. “Are you sure?” he asked, his tone gentle yet insistent. “You're hurt, and it's not safe for you to be out here alone, especially with those injuries.”
You hesitated. Despite your initial plan to find solace and peace in the forest, you couldn't deny the reality of your situation - bruised, bleeding, and very much in need of assistance.
Swallowing your pride, you met Hongjoong's gaze with a grateful nod. “I... I think I could use some help,” you admitted, your voice wavering slightly with a mixture of exhaustion and relief.
Without hesitation, Hongjoong stepped closer, offering you his arm for support. “Here," he said, “Lean on me. We'll get you patched up and back home safely.”
“N-no!” you screeched, making Hongjoong falter in his steps and shoot you a confused look, “I-i mean, the night's still young, am I right? There's no need to return home just yet…”
“Why are you avoiding your own home?”
Your heart raced at his question, and you could feel your pulse pounding in your ears. His straightforwardness caught you off-guard, yet you tried - and failed - to hide your uneasiness and upcoming fear.
“You wouldn't understand,” you whispered.
Avoiding his eyes, you bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. The fear of revealing too much, of exposing the dark secrets of your marriage, held you back. You couldn't bear the thought of anyone knowing the truth, let alone a stranger who could very much use this information against you.
Hongjoong must have sensed your hesitation, for he didn't press further. Instead, he offered a gentle smile, his eyes filled with understanding. “It's alright,” he said softly. “You don't have to explain. Let's just get you somewhere safe and comfortable for now.”
His words and tone surprised you. You were accustomed to being met with demands and anger, not patience and empathy. The contrast left you feeling both confused and intrigued. Why was he being so kind to you? What did he hope to gain from helping a stranger in the middle of the night?
You accepted his support, leaning on him as you walked, your steps slow and cautious. The pain in your knees and hands was a constant reminder of your current vulnerability, but Hongjoong's steady presence provided a strange sense of comfort. Despite your initial wariness, you found yourself beginning to trust him.
Oh, what a foolish woman you are.
“Where will you take me?”
“To my house. It would be a shame if your husband would see you like this, with visible injuries and a torn dress, wouldn't it?”
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
That's how long you stared into his eyes, and he stared into yours.
Both of you knew what this meant.
Yet no one spoke it out loud. Society forbade it.
You exhaled a trembling breath, the truth of his words settling heavily between you. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, “It would be a shame.”
Hongjoong’s eyes softened, as if he could read the unspoken pain behind your words. “Let’s go, then,” he said gently, guiding you along the path with Django following closely behind.
“You know,” you whispered, “a married woman should never visit a bachelor's property alone. Especially at such late hours.”
Hongjoong glanced at you, a faint, yet boyish smile playing on his lips. “If you go by the rules of society, then yes,” he said, “but I'm known to do the exact opposite.”
Hongjoong's house came into view after a short walk through the forest. It was a modest building outside the small village, yet it looked charming, nestled amid tall trees that swayed gently in the night breeze. The front was adorned with a small, covered porch, where a couple of wooden chairs and a table sat invitingly. Ivy climbed up the walls, giving the house an almost fairytale-like quality.
It seemed to be well kept too, a stark contrast to your own home.
As you approached, you noticed the sign above the door, “Kim’s Dressmaking,” written in elegant, swirling letters. It was clear that the front of the house doubled as a shop. The large windows displayed a variety of dresses, each more beautiful and intricate than the last, their fabrics shimmering softly in the dim light.
You remembered the villager's harsh words, and for a small second you thought: should you really follow this unruly man? What if anyone would see you entering his house at night, completely alone?
But you also knew this was quite literally the only solution right now, because if your husband saw you at home tending to your wounds he'd know of your nightly trips, and you couldn't let that happen.
So, the outcast’s house it was.
Hongjoong, who just escorted Django back to a small stall behind the property, passed you and pushed open the door, the bell above it tinkling softly. The interior of the shop was a burst of colour and creativity. Dresses of all styles and fabrics lined the walls, hung from mannequins, and lay draped over chairs and tables. Ribbons, lace, and beads were strewn about in an organised chaos that spoke of hours of dedicated craftsmanship. The scent of fresh fabric and a hint of lavender lingered in the air.
These dresses were made for royalty, beautiful and extravagant, unlike anything normal citizens would wear. You pitied Hongjoong; his talent was being wasted in a small village, while queens and princesses should be the ones wearing them, not women talking badly about his craft the second he turned his back on them.
“Welcome to my workshop,” Hongjoong said, a note of pride in his voice. He led you through the shop and towards a door at the back. “The living area is just through here.”
You followed him into a cozy living space that was a stark contrast to the bustling shop. The room was warmly lit by a few oil lamps, casting a soft glow over the rustic wooden furniture. A large, comfortable-looking sofa took up most of one wall, with a knitted blanket draped over it. Shelves lined with books and trinkets filled another wall, and a small fireplace crackled with a gentle fire, providing a soothing warmth. A modest kitchen area occupied one corner, with a wooden table and two chairs positioned nearby.
“Sit,” Hongjoong instructed gently, guiding you to the sofa. “I'll get some water and bandages for your wounds.”
“Yes, sir,” you giggled, a childlike euphoria suddenly overcoming you. He shot you a grin in response.
You sank into the sofa, the softness a welcome relief after the night's ordeal. You watched as Hongjoong moved around in the kitchen, his movements swift and efficient.
After a few minutes, he returned with a bowl of warm water, a clean cloth, and a small box of medical supplies. He knelt beside you, his eyes focused and serious as he gently took your hands in his.
“This might sting a bit,” he warned, dipping the cloth into the water and carefully cleaning the dirt and blood from your scrapes. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and you found yourself relaxing under his care.
“Thank you,” you murmured, watching him work. The tenderness in his actions was a stark contrast to the harshness you had endured at home.
“You're welcome,” he replied softly, his eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to his task. He worked silently for a few moments, cleaning and bandaging your wounds with practised ease.
“Now,” he said, standing up and cleaning his hands with the washcloth, “all we gotta do is fix your dress now to avoid your husband suspecting anything.”
“I… I don't have any money to pay you,” you admitted.
Hongjoong shook his head, a kind smile playing on his lips. "Don't worry about that," he said. “Consider it my way of helping a neighbour in need. I mean, it was my goat who put you in this situation after all.”
The kindness in his words brought tears to your eyes, and you had to look away to hide your emotions. It's been an hour since you've met this man, and yet he already treated you better than people whom you should be closest to. It had been so long since someone had shown you such genuine care and concern.
Hongjoong led you to a small sewing table in the corner of the room, surrounded by bolts of fabric, spools of thread, and an array of needles and scissors. He pulled out a chair for you and you sat down, feeling a sense of peace settle over you.
“Can I ask another favour of you?” you asked quietly.
Hongjoong knelt down, now looking up to you. It made your heart beat faster, and you hated yourself for it.
“Go ahead,” he said, encouraging you to speak.
“Please don't leave any obvious stitches… my husband would notice and then he would get mad and I really don't-”
“Hey, hey,” Hongjoong shushed you, carefully taking your trembling hand in his own.
His gentle touch seemed to soothe you immediately.
“I'll give my very best. Your husband won't notice anything amiss,” he promised.
As he worked, carefully mending the torn fabric of your dress, you watched his skilled hands move with precision and grace. His focus was unwavering, and you couldn't help but admire the artistry in his every movement.
“You know,” you said softly, breaking the silence, “the women in the village talk about you. They say your dresses are too extravagant for common folk.”
Hongjoong chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I've heard the gossip,” he admitted. “But I don't create these dresses for them. Let's say my clients are of more… different backgrounds.”
“You mean women of wealthier status?”
“Indeed.”
You couldn't help but giggle at Hongjoong's response.
“So does that mean… Did you just… indirectly make fun of those women, Hongjoong?” you asked, trying to stifle your laughter.
A mischievous smile spread across his face as he glanced up at you. “Maybe I did,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with a playful glint. “But it's only fair, don't you think? They judge me without understanding, too.”
You laughed again, the sound feeling foreign yet welcome to your own ears.
Hongjoong’s returned to his work, his fingers working fast, his concentration unwavering. You watched him in awe. There was something comforting about watching him work, knowing he was doing his best to help you. And on top of that, his skills fascinated you. You didn't know much about the craft of dressmaking, yet even a layin like you knew that true skill was needed for such incredible work.
And Kim Hongjoong definitely had that skill.
“Why do you stay here?” you asked after a moment of silence, curiosity getting the better of you. “You could be making dresses for queens and princesses, living a life far away from all the judgement and poverty of this village.”
Hongjoong paused, his needle stopping mid-air as he looked up at you once again. “I could do that, you're right,” he agreed, “but I prefer living peacefully. Going back to the court… it's not what I want anymore. People there are difficult.”
“More difficult than here?”
He laughed. “Yeah, actually. Just in a different way.”
You hummed. Hongjoong finished mending your dress, carefully examining his work before looking up at you with a satisfied smile. “There,” he said, “all done. Your husband won’t notice a thing.”
You looked down at the dress, marvelling at his skill. The stitches were invisible, the fabric as good as new. “Thank you,” you said, your gratitude heavily evident in your voice.
He stood up, offering you his hand once more. “Let me walk you home,” he said. “It’s not safe for you to go alone.”
Panic rushed through you at his suggestion, your heart pounding in your chest. You jerked back, withdrawing your hand from his as if his touch burned you.
“No,” you said, your voice trembling, “I can't let you do that. What if someone sees us together? What if my husband finds out?”
Hongjoong's brows furrowed in concern. “But it’s not safe for you to walk alone at this hour. After what happened in the forest, I can’t just let you go unaccompanied.”
You shook your head vehemently, your hands clenching the fabric of your freshly mended dress. “I appreciate your kindness, Hongjoong, but you don’t understand. If anyone sees us together, it will only get worse for me. My husband… he's not a kind man. He'll make my life a living hell.”
Hongjoong's expression softened. He reached out as if to comfort you, but then hesitated as you took another step back. “I won’t let anything happen to you, but I understand your fear. At least let me watch and follow you from a distance, to make sure you get home safely.”
You nodded reluctantly. It was late after all, and even though the village was small, you still didn't feel safe walking back alone. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just… Please, be careful.”
Hongjoong gave you a reassuring nod. “I promise. Just stay close to the path, and I’ll make sure you get home safely.” He led you to the door, and as you stepped out into the night, the cool air brushing against your skin, you felt a sudden sadness overcoming you.
You didn't want to leave. Or moreover: you didn't want to go back. Back to him.
With a final glance back at Hongjoong, you set off down the path, which was the opposite direction of where you first came to his house from the forest.
The journey felt shorter than you wanted it to be, and before long, the familiar sight of your house came into view. The windows were dark, a sign that your husband was thankfully still asleep. You stopped at the edge of your property, your heart pounding in your chest as you glanced back at the shadowy figure of Hongjoong standing in the distance.
With a final nod and a slight wave, you turned away and walked up to the door. You opened it as quietly as you could, slipping inside and closing it behind you with a soft click. The house was silent, and only the steady ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard. You held your breath, listening for any sign of movement from your husband.
Silence. Good.
Because silence was always better than his usual rage and violence.
“This is a good night,” you murmured. You quietly moved to the window, trying to see if Hongjoong was still there.
One last time. I gotta see him just one last time.
But unfortunately, your kind and pretty stranger was no longer there.
The trees seemed to slowly close in around you.
The forest surrounding you felt alive, watching, waiting.
A shiver ran down your spine as the sound of rustling leaves echoed ominously through the forest.
Just three more steps. One. Two. Three-
“Y/N?”
“Dear God!”
The sudden movement caused the reason you were here today to dart deeper into the underbrush. “Benji!” you called out, frustration now evident in your frantic voice.
Hongjoong stepped closer. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. What… are you doing here?”
You sighed. “I'm looking for a little cat. Met the little one last week, shortly before Django attacked me. He was gone afterwards. I've been coming here all week, but it's of no use. Last week he was so trusting, but now… it's so hard to even get close to him.”
The sun was piercing through the trees on this warm Friday evening, and you had to squint your eyes as you looked in the direction Benji ran away.
“I can't see him anymore,” you said.
Hongjoong’s expression softened. “Do you want some help?” he asked. You nodded, shooting him an appreciative smile. “I’d really like that.”
The two of you moved cautiously, stepping lightly over the forest floor. The silence between you was punctuated only by the occasional crack of a twig or the rustle of leaves.
As you neared the spot where you last saw Benji, Hongjoong held up a hand, signalling for you to stop. He crouched down, peering into the thick bushes.
“There,” he whispered, pointing. “I see him.”
You followed his gaze and spotted the little cat, his eyes wide and alert as he watched you both from the shadows.
“Benji,” you called softly, your voice gentle. “It’s okay, buddy. We’re here to help you.”
Slowly, painstakingly, Benji inched closer, drawn by the sound of your voice. You took a tentative step forward, trying to maintain your balance on the uneven ground. Just as you were about to reach him, your foot slipped into a hidden hole in the forest floor. You stumbled, your ankle twisting painfully as you almost fell.
Behind you, Hongjoong reacted instantly, his strong hand grabbing your arm to steady you. You hissed in pain as his grip tightened around a particularly sore spot.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.
You nodded quickly, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, just twisted my ankle a bit.” You chuckled awkwardly. “It's quite funny, isn't it? I always get hurt when we meet.”
But Hongjoong didn’t let go. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the bruises on your arm, previously hidden by your sleeve. “Y/N… what happened?” he asked, his voice a mix of anger and concern.
You swallowed hard, looking away. “It’s nothing. Just an accident at home.”
He shook his head, his grip gentle but firm. “Y/N, don’t lie to me. Was this… your husband?”
You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Hongjoong, please. Y-you know I can't talk about it.”
“I know,” he whispered, “But…”
He didn't continue his sentence. Instead, his eyes found yours, and everything he couldn't say, every single, unspoken emotion you found there, hidden behind those kind, brown orbs.
And you understood. You understood that if this man had the chance to change your situation, he would do it. Whatever it would take, and all for you.
A married woman. Practically a stranger still, despite the intimate moment you shared.
In that very moment, you sinned.
And God was your only witness as you fell a little bit for a man that wasn't your husband.
“Meow.”
Benji’s soft meow brought you back to the present. You looked down to see the little cat rubbing against your leg, practically purring his heart out. You reached down, gently scooping the little Grey fur ball up into your arms.
Hongjoong watched you, his expression unreadable to you. “He's still so little. You sure his mother isn't nearby as well?” he asked.
You shook your head. “I've been here to get him every day and haven't seen any other cat here. He seems to be completely alone.”
“Alright then, let’s get him to my home first. We’ll figure something out then.”
You nodded. Without even mentioning, Hongjoong knew you couldn't take him to your own home.
The path back seemed shorter, perhaps because you weren't alone anymore. Benji fidgeted a lot, but wasn't as much of a trouble as you originally thought.
When you reached the edge of the forest, the sunlight was brighter, and you could hear the distant sounds of the town.
“I'm glad you don't have any close neighbours.”
“I'm also glad. Because if I did, I wouldn't be able to see you right now Y/N,” he said, and smiled. Oh, that goddamn smile.
You're not quite sure what it meant, but you felt your heart skip a beat. It was something so beautiful only described in those ‘unholy’ books your mother forbade you to read, but ended up doing anyway. You felt like a young girl again, curious and desperate for love, seeking solace in men that weren't real, but oh so charming.
Men who couldn't hurt you. Couldn't touch any part of your body, only your pure heart.
Yeah, that's how Kim Hongjoong made you feel. With only a smile.
You felt like you were flying, so free and happy and brave and young again. Like you could conquer the whole world together.
But Kim Hongjoong wasn't yours. Because in no world could you ever become his.
Stepping foot into his shop was like entering another work, and even though you've already seen his gorgeous dresses, you still looked at them in awe.
“One day,” you whispered.
“If you want, you can try a dress on. No one will bother us since the store's closed today.”
You shivered. Hongjoong stood almost right behind you, his warmth radiating off his body.
The temptation to indulge in this small fantasy was strong, but you shook your head. “I couldn’t possibly,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to impose.”
“You wouldn’t be imposing at all,” Hongjoong replied, his tone gentle yet insistent. “Think of it as a gift. Besides, I could use some help around here.”
Your curiosity piqued and you turned to face him. “Help? With what?”
He gestured to the array of dresses on display. “I’ve been working on some new designs, but I don’t have a proper model to try them on. I use mannequins for display, but it’s not the same. I need someone to see how the dresses move and fit in real life. You can work for me in exchange for taking in Benji. Model my dresses, help me with fittings and adjustments. It’s a fair trade, don’t you think?”
“I'd like that,” you whispered, “it's just… these dresses are made for royalty, not for a woman like… like me, Hongjoong.”
He vehemently shook his head. “You underestimate yourself, Y/N. Just try one on, for me?”
You nodded slowly, and he selected a dress from the rack, a soft, flowing gown in a shade of deep emerald. You took it from him, feeling the weight and texture of the fabric, smooth and luxurious against your skin.
Hongjoong led you to a small changing area behind a curtain. You stepped behind it, your heart pounding. Carefully, you undressed and slipped into the gown. The fabric felt cool and comforting, draping over your body with an unexpected ease. You adjusted the dress, feeling its weight settle around you, and took a deep breath before stepping out.
Hongjoong's reaction was immediate and genuine. His eyes widened, a look of pure admiration spreading across his face. “Y/N,” he breathed, “you look… stunning.”
You blushed, feeling embarrassed yet also undeniably charmed. “I don’t know about that. It feels strange, like I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.”
“You’re not pretending,” he said softly, stepping closer. “This is you, Y/N. The real you. Sometimes a princess just needs the right dress to feel like one.”
You hesitated, still feeling unsure. “It’s just… I’m not used to this. I feel out of place.”
Hongjoong’s gaze was steady and reassuring, not once taking his eyes off of you. “You belong in this dress, Y/N. Trust me. Walk around a bit, feel the fabric, see how it moves with you.”
You took a tentative step, then another. The dress flowed around you, the fabric whispering against your skin. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror, and for the first time, you saw what Hongjoong saw – a woman who was strong, beautiful, and so, so much more.
“See?” he said softly, standing right behind you. “You’re perfect.”
Tears welled up in your eyes, and you fought hard to hold them back.
But instead, with his eyes on you, calm and beautiful and so honest looking, all you could mutter was, “Yes. Yes I am.”
He looked at you proudly.
And so, the hours went by, spent with you trying on several more gorgeous dresses and Hongjoong eagerly taking notes and making small changes here and there.
With each dress you tried on, you felt a little more confident. The first few moments were always awkward, feeling out of place and almost guilty for indulging in this fantasy. But Hongjoong’s constant reassurance and the genuine admiration in his eyes slowly chipped away at your insecurities.
The emerald gown gave way to a sky-blue dress that shimmered in the light. Then a deep burgundy number that made your skin glow. Each dress was a work of art, and each time you emerged from behind the curtain, Hongjoong’s reaction was the same – pure, unadulterated admiration.
“You’re like a vision,” he murmured as you twirled in a pale pink gown. “These dresses come to life on you.”
By the time you tried on the final dress, a stunning midnight blue creation with delicate silver embroidery, you felt like a different person. The woman in the mirror was confident, elegant, and yes, perfect.
Like the princess from your book coming straight to life.
“You must be exhausted,” Hongjoong hummed, helping you step down the small podium, “go ahead and change while I fetch you something to drink, okay?”
“Okay.”
You slipped back behind the curtain. As you changed out of the midnight blue gown into your ordinary clothes, you felt the weight of reality slowly setting in again.
Looking outside and seeing the sun slowly disappearing meant you head to return home.
Hongjoong returned with a glass of water and a soft smile. “Here you go,” he said, handing you the drink. “You did amazing today, Y/N. Thank you for helping me.”
You took the glass gratefully, feeling the cool water soothe your parched throat. “I'm glad I could be of help.”
“Alright, same day and time next week?” he asked.
Without wasting a second, you agreed. “Yes. I'll be there, Hongjoong.”
Wherever there was light, the lurking darkness was never far away, and you realised that pretty early on.
Even before Hongjoong stumbled into your life, you noticed something. Your husband wasn't coming home after getting off work, instead opting to spend his free time in the town's tavern or with his various affair partners.
And to be honest, you didn't mind.
Instead, you were happy about it. So so happy.
That is, until the townspeople started talking. Ruthlessly. And not about your abusive, alcoholic and cheating husband; no, about you - the ‘bad, sinning wife.’
The wife who couldn't be obedient enough. The wife who couldn't give him children.
It was unbearable. Their words stung and hurt you deeply, but they were true.
…Right?
Your childhood and adolescence were spent learning about your future duties as a wife. Taking care of the house, obeying your husband without question, birthing his children and believing in God and his good deeds.
And you failed all these duties, so you deserved to be frowned upon.
Even your own family thought so, too.
The only person who didn't was Kim Hongjoong, who was currently working on a purple gown you stood model for just a few minutes ago.
If he noticed how quiet you were today, he didn't mention it.
“How does it look?” he asked, glancing up at you shyly, like your opinion truly mattered to him.
“It’s beautiful,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The gown was stunning, but that was to be expected of him. But today, even his pretty dresses couldn't cheer you up.
He nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “It's even prettier when you're wearing it, Y/N.”
You blushed previously, but only managed a small smile in return, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thank you, Hongjoong. I just… I’m not feeling very well today.”
Hongjoong set his needle and thread aside, his full attention now on you. “Do you want to talk about it?”
The genuine concern in his voice was almost your undoing. You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, your finger nestling with the fabric of your shabby dress. “It’s nothing, really. Just… the usual gossip in town.”
His expression darkened slightly. “People can be cruel. You don’t deserve that.”
“Maybe I do,” you said quietly, looking away. “Maybe they’re right.”
“No,” Hongjoong said firmly, stepping closer. “They’re not right. You don’t deserve to be treated like this. You’re strong, and kind, and… you deserve so much more than what you’ve been given.”
A sob escaped your lips and you hid your face behind your hands, unable to face Hongjoong's eyes.
“H-how did you deal with this all alone? I can't… I don't even wanna leave my house anymore. The looks they give me, their words… It hurts so much, but I know they're right. I know that I-”
“What could you have possibly done wrong, Y/N?” Hongjoong cut you off, and for the first time since you've known him, he'd raised his voice, and you flinched, because anger could only ever mean one thing and soon his hands would-
His hands slowly took yours into his own, and instead of hurting you, they caressed you carefully as tears fell down your cheeks.
“I'm a bad wife, Hongjoong…”
He vehemently shook his head, his hands gripping your own tighter. “No, Y/N. You're not a bad wife. He is a bad husband.”
“Do you believe in God, Hongjoong?” you quietly asked.
He visibly tensed up, avoiding all eye contact.
“It's okay,” you quickly reassured him, “I know in my religion it's a sin not believing, but since I'm also struggling… I really have no room to judge you for not believing in God. I also had my suspicions already, since you're one of the only people in town who doesn't attend Sunday mass.”
Hongjoong's shoulders relaxed a little, though he still seemed wary. "I don't know what I believe anymore," he admitted. "But I do know this: no god worth believing in would want you to suffer in a marriage like this.”
“I- please don't say that. God is good, he knows all, and if I am getting punished t-then that means that I deserve it! According to Ephesians 5:22-24, ‘Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is head of the wife, as also Christ is head of the church; and He is the Savior of the body. Therefore, just as the church is subject to Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything’.”
Hongjoong sighed, his expression a mix of both frustration and empathy. “Y/N, I understand that those verses have been drilled into you, but what about the rest of it? The parts that speak about love and respect?”
You looked down, your hands trembling slightly. “I’ve tried to love and respect him, but nothing I do is ever enough.”
“That’s because he should give you the same love and respect in return, yet he doesn't,” Hongjoong said softly. “A true marriage should be a partnership, where both people uplift and support each other. What you have isn’t that.”
“But what if God is just testing me to see if my faith in him is strong enough? And I'm clearly failing him because I'm weak and… and… oh God.” You started sobbing uncontrollably again.
Hongjoong wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you cried. He spoke softly, his voice steady and reassuring. "Y/N, if God is testing you, it’s not to see you suffer but to help you find your strength. And strength doesn’t mean staying in a place where you are being hurt. Strength is knowing when to stand up for yourself and seek the life you deserve."
You clung to him like a child to its mother, your tears soaking his shirt. "I don’t know if I can do that. I’ve never known anything else.”
“You asked me if I believed in God,” he reluctantly began, “and… it's complicated. I do believe in something, like a higher power that none of us can truly grasp, but… I don't believe in the Christian God. Or any other religion's God for that matter. Because to me, believing in something shouldn't come with any rules. Yet all religions do it, and I just… I think that's wrong. They label anything that they aren't comfortable with immediately as bad. I learned that the hard way.”
You pulled back slightly, looking at him with curiosity through your tear-streaked eyes. "What do you mean?"
Hongjoong sighed, his eyes distant as he recalled. "I was… different growing up. I didn’t fit the stereotype that everyone expected. I was more interested in art and fashion than in the traditional roles laid out for men in our community. I grew up in a small religious city just like you and because of that, I faced a lot of judgement. I was labelled a sinner, a bad person, just like you are now. But what truly opened my eyes was when I met two men whom I quickly grew close with. Well… they were in love with each other, and the people from my town… they planned to kill them. By publicly executing them. That night, the three of us ran away, and I haven't been back since.”
“What I also wanna say,” he added before you could speak, “is that if you truly believe in the Christian God and it makes you happy you should never give up your faith. But Y/N… you're not happy, not with your religion and definitely not with your marriage.”
Deep down, you knew he was right. But that also meant that your whole life, your whole upbringing was nothing but a lie. Nothing but pure manipulation.
And you weren't ready to admit that yet.
He held you for what felt like hours, humming soft melodies and caressing your back over and over again.
“I'm sorry,” you said, your words muffled in his shirt, “I'm sorry for not being able to choose the right path yet.”
“Oh, you silly woman.” he laughed and squeezed you tightly again, “don't you dare apologise for taking your time.”
“Okay,” you hiccuped, wiping your tears away, “I'm sorry for apologising- Oh God, I just did it again.”
Hongjoong chuckled softly, his laughter mixing with your own, lightening the heavy mood.
After a while, he backed up, and you immediately started missing his arms around you. “Hey, I know you're not feeling too well today, but there's something I wanna do. Something for… for you.”
“For me?” you asked surprised.
“Yeah. You only stood model for dresses that needed nothing but slight retouching, but… I wanna do a dress specifically for you.”
“For me?” you repeated, disbelief colouring your voice. “You’d make a dress just for me?”
Hongjoong smiled warmly, nodding. “Yes, just for you. You're like my muse, Y/N. You give me so many ideas.”
Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt your cheeks flaring up. “I… I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything,” Hongjoong replied gently. “Just let me do this for you.”
You hesitated, then nodded slowly, trusting this man completely. “Okay.”
Hongjoong’s face lit up with pure excitement. “Great! Come, I have some ideas already.”
He led you into one of the rooms behind the shop. You quickly saw this was the place where he worked, full of mannequins, fabrics and more. He quickly set to work, pulling out fabrics and sketching designs into a sketchbook. His enthusiasm was infectious, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of genuine happiness.
“Do you have any preferences?” Hongjoong asked, looking up from his sketches. “A colour you love, a style you’ve always wanted to try?”
You thought for a moment. “I’ve always loved blue,” you admitted. “It reminds me of the sky, the sea… freedom.”
Hongjoong’s smile widened. “Blue it is, then. I can already see you in it, it suits you.”
As Hongjoong started working, you watched him silently in awe. His hands moved with precision and grace, his focus unwavering. It was clear that this truly was his passion, and he poured his heart into every stitch.
Hours passed, but there was still much to do. The room was filled with the soothing sound of fabric rustling and the rhythmic click of scissors. Hongjoong occasionally asked for your opinion, and after a while, Benji joined too, placing himself onto your lap and purring so loudly it made Hongjoong lose focus several times.
When the sun started slowly disappearing, it meant the end of your weekly session. “We made good progress today,” Hongjoong said, smiling. “Let's continue next week.”
When you returned home that day, the smile Hongjoong put on your face still hadn't left your face, not even when you saw the mess in your house or your husband passed out on the couch, completely wasted. Instead, you quietly started cleaning, all your worries and problems elsewhere because at that very moment, all you could think of was a certain man named Kim Hongjoong.
And how you wished that, in another world, he could be your husband instead.
The next weeks seemed to drag on endlessly, each and every day filled with the same monotonous routine. Your husband’s drinking worsened, and the church, which had once been your one and only safe space, was slowly turning into a place you started to resent more and more each day, because every pair that laid its eyes on you was not viewing you with any kindness, but judgement, and the shame, the utter humiliation you felt was steadily becoming too much to handle. Yet, you reminded yourself that you did have something to look forward to: seeing Hongjoong once a week.
Every session with Hongjoong was a reprieve from the relentless condemnation you faced in the town. His shop became your sanctuary, a place where you could be yourself without fear of judgement. He was always there with a warm smile and a listening ear, making you feel valued and understood in a way you hadn't felt in years.
In a way not even family or close friends could.
One afternoon, as you entered his shop, you were greeted by Hongjoong slumped over his desk, sound asleep with both fabric and needles still in his hands.
You quietly walked over, careful not to startle him. Gently, you took the fabric and needles from his hands, setting them aside. You noticed dark circles under his eyes and the way his clothes hung loosely on his frame, signs of the toll his hard work and sleepless nights were taking on him.
Behind you, Benji made a sound, jumping on the table and staring at his owner.
“Your daddy is a little foolish for overworking himself, am I right baby?” you said, quietly chuckling as Benji laid his head in your outstretched hand. He didn't pay his owner any mind.
Hongjoong stirred at the sound of your voice, blinking awake. When he saw you, a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “Y/N, I'm sorry. I must have dozed off.”
“Don't apologise,” you replied softly, still occupied with petting Benji. “You need to take better care of yourself, Joongie. You've been working too hard.”
He blushed at the nickname you called him, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. “I just… wanted everything to be perfect for you.”
“Perfection can wait,” you said gently. “Your health can't.”
He nodded, looking genuinely touched by your concern. “I'll try to rest more. I promise.”
Benji meowed softly, seemingly agreeing with you, and you couldn't help but laugh. “Even Benji thinks so.”
“I'm pretty sure Benji would agree to everything his mommy would say, he practically worships the ground you walk on,” Hongjoong chuckled, reaching out to scratch the needy cat behind the ears. At your insistent gaze, he reluctantly agreed: “Alright, alright. I'll take it easy.”
“Good,” you said, smiling. “Now, how about some tea? It looks like you could use a break.”
You made your way to the small kitchenette in the back of the shop, preparing two cups of tea. As the water boiled, you glanced back at Hongjoong, who was now petting Benji and looking more relaxed. It warmed your heart to see him taking a moment for himself.
When the tea was ready, you brought the cups over to the table and handed one to Hongjoong. He took a sip, closing his eyes as he savoured the warmth. “Thank you, Y/N. This is just what I needed.”
“You do so much for me, let me tend to you once in a while too,” you said.
You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, respectively sipping your tea. After a few moments, Hongjoong broke the silence. “I've been thinking a lot lately,” he began, his voice tentative. “About what you said last time, about the church and how they've been treating you.”
You looked up from your tea, meeting his eyes. “What about it?”
“I've seen how much it's been weighing on you, and it breaks my heart,” he said, his gaze sincere. “But as a mere villager, my hands are bound, although I wish it would be different. Do you think… Do you think it would help if I would accompany you to Sunday mass? Of course separately, but maybe… maybe that could be of help to you.”
Your heart thudded in your chest, the sound almost deafening in the quiet of the room. His offer sent waves of emotions crashing through you.
No one had ever been this kind, this lovely to you, especially a man.
You stared at him, momentarily speechless, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm, comforting blanket. He wanted to help you, to stand by you in a place that had become a source of pain and humiliation, for the both of you. He cared enough to offer a hand in a situation he knew he had no control over, and the realisation hit you like a bolt of lightning.
You glanced down at your cup, the steam rising in delicate tendrils, and tried to steady your breathing. You had always known that Hongjoong was different, that he was shunned for being different, and that he had a kindness and understanding that was rare in this judgmental town. But now, as you sat there with him, you also realised something else: your feelings for him ran deeper than you had allowed yourself to acknowledge.
Million thoughts swirled in your mind. How could you feel this way about him when you were still bound to a man who had long since stopped caring for you? Your duty as a wife was to be loyal to your husband till death do you apart, and you failed. Miserably. Was it fair to Hongjoong, who had done nothing but support and uplift you, to be dragged into your complicated, painful life?
No. He deserved a woman who could give him everything he wanted, and that definitely wasn't you. You couldn't even give him your hand in marriage.
And yet, despite the confusion and the guilt, there was an undeniable truth you couldn't ignore: you were falling for him.
He was the prince you long had hoped you'd find, but you weren't his princess.
You thought back to all the times he had been there for you, his gentle words and warm smiles, the way he listened to you without judgement, making you feel seen and heard. His dedication to his craft, his passion for creating beauty in a world that often seemed devoid of it, mirrored the passion he had for helping you and any living being he encountered. It was this combination of compassion and creativity, of understanding and resilience, that drew you to him like a moth to a flame.
Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked back at him, his concerned expression making your heart ache.
He had no idea what was going on inside your head, and in this very moment you made a promise to yourself: the feelings you harboured for this beautiful, perfect man would be kept a secret forever. You would take them with you to your very death.
You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “Hongjoong,” you began, your voice trembling, “I... I don't know what to say. Your offer means the world to me. Truly.”
“But?” he asked, knowing you weren't quite done talking yet.
“I have to decline. I'm not gonna stand by and watch you going into a church you clearly don't want to go to. There's no reason for you to do so,” you said firmly.
“But there is a reason,” he whispered, his fingers slowly drawing patterns on the palm of your hand. You had to take your eyes off him. “You. You are the reason.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and the room seemed to blur around you as his words echoed in your mind. You. You are the reason. How could someone so selfless, so kind, want to sacrifice his comfort for yours? The weight of his sincerity bore down on you, making it difficult to breathe. You wanted to believe that you could accept his offer, lean on him without reservation, but the reality of your situation loomed large and impossible to ignore.
Tears welled up in your eyes again, threatening to spill over. You couldn’t let him do this. You couldn’t let him tie himself to your miseries and your complicated life. He deserved so much more.
But knowing Kim Hongjoong, he wouldn't accept no for an answer, and so you said quietly, “I'll think about it.”
He smiled brightly at you, his hand finding yours and squeezing it tightly. Your wedding ring was an uncomfortable reminder of the future this bond of yours would hold in the future.
Suddenly, Hongjoong's eyes lit up with a familiar spark of excitement. “I think it's time for you to see it,” he said, standing up with renewed energy.
“See what? The dress?! You're already finished?!”
Instead of answering, he led you to the back of the shop, where a tall, covered mannequin stood. With a dramatic flourish, he pulled away the cloth, revealing a dress so exquisite it took your breath away.
The gown was a deep, saturated blue that shimmered like the ocean under a sky full of shining stars. The bodice was intricately embroidered with silver thread, forming delicate patterns of stars and swirling vines. The neckline was elegant and modest, dipping just enough to be flattering without being revealing. The sleeves were long and fitted, ending in graceful points that brushed against the tip of your hands, embroidered with the same silver designs that already adorned the bodice.
The skirt flowed from the waist in cascading layers of silk and tulle, creating a voluminous yet ethereal effect. Each layer was edged with even more silver embroidery. The back of the dress featured a row of tiny, delicate buttons that ran from the nape of the neck to the small of the back, adding a touch of old-world charm.
You gasped, unable to fathom what you were seeing. “Hongjoong, it’s... it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
His entire being seemed to relax as a delicate reddish colour adorned his cheeks. “Thank God you like it, it would've been worthless if not.”
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached out to touch the dress, your fingers trembling slightly. “Thank you, Joongie. I don’t know what to say.”
He smiled gently. “How about trying it on? I’d love to see you in it - No, I need to see you in it.”
You nodded, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Hongjoong carefully lifted the gown from the mannequin and handed it to you. You stepped behind the changing screen, the luxurious fabric feeling cool and smooth against your skin.
As you tried to change into the gown, you realised just how intricate it truly was. The buttons down the back were nearly impossible to fasten on your own, and the delicate fabric seemed to slip through your fingers. You struggled with the fastenings, your frustration obvious as you fidgeted with each and every button like a little child.
“Hongjoong,” you called out softly, your voice trembling. “I think I might need some help.”
He was at your side in an instant, sending your heart into a frenzy.
So close.
Too close?
No, not close enough.
“Of course, let me help you.” His fingers moved carefully over the buttons, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of intimacy as he worked, his hands warm and steady against your back.
When the last button was fastened, he stepped back, his eyes wide with admiration. “Y/N, you look... absolutely stunning.”
You stepped out from behind the screen, feeling like you had stepped into a fairy tale. The dress fit perfectly, accentuating your figure perfectly and complimenting every unique feature of yours. You twirled slightly, the skirt flowing around you like a dream.
Not once did Hongjoong’s eyes leave you. “It’s perfect,” he murmured. “You’re perfect.”
Your blush deepened as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. The dress was everything you had ever dreamed of and more.
As you moved, you felt the cool brush of the fabric against your bare skin, a sensation that made you acutely aware of your body in a way you hadn’t felt in years. Just seconds before, Hongjoong’s hands had lingered on your back, and the memory of his touch sent a jolt of both pleasure and guilt through you. The touch of a man, one who truly cared for you, was something you hadn’t realised how much you really had craved until now.
“I feel like a princess,” you whispered. You didn't notice a tear streaming down your check until Hongjoong carefully cupped your face and wiped it away.
“Would the princess like to dance with me?” he sheepishly asked, sending a playful wink your way that made you both laugh and blush.
You managed a smile through your tears. “Yes, I would love that.”
Hongjoong’s eyes sparkled with joy as he extended his hand to you. You placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. He led you to the centre of the room, where he gently placed his other hand on your waist, the contact sending a shiver down your spine.
For a moment, you both stood there, simply enjoying the shared closeness. Then, slowly, he began to guide you in a swift motion, your movements mirroring each other with an ease that felt almost magical.
The dress flowed around you as you twirled. Hongjoong's eyes never once left yours, his gaze filled with a mixture of undying bliss and something deeper, something you were almost afraid to name.
“My husband never danced with me, not even on our wedding day,” you said.
Hongjoong’s expression softened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as he led you in another gentle turn. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache.
You looked up at him, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. “Hongjoong, I…”
He shook his head slightly, stopping your words with a gentle smile. “You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. Just… let’s enjoy this moment. Let’s pretend, even if it’s just for a little while, that the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”
You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion as you followed his lead, the two of you moving together in perfect harmony. In his arms, the weight of your troubles seemed to lift, if only for a brief moment. The dress, the dance, the soft glow of the afternoon light filtering through the shop’s windows - it all felt like a scene from your favourite romance books.
You and Hongjoong were lost in the moment, the world around you fading into the background as you danced together. His hand on your waist, the warmth of his touch, the way his eyes never left yours - it was all so perfect, so right, like nothing else in your entire life.
Just as Hongjoong spun you gracefully, a voice shattered your beautiful moment. “Well, what do we have here?”
You both froze, turning to see an elderly woman standing in the doorway, her sharp eyes fixed on you. You didn’t recognize her, but there was an unmistakable air of authority surrounding her. Hongjoong stiffened beside you, his hand dropping from your waist as he quickly took a step back.
“Mrs. Lee,” he said, his voice stern but polite. “What brings you here?”
Mrs. Lee’s eyes narrowed as she took in the scene, her gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks and the way you were anxiously clenching the skirt of the beautiful dress. “I’ve been looking for you, Hongjoong. We need to talk about my daughter.”
Your heart sank, and a wave of terror washed over you. You quickly stepped away from Hongjoong, trying to compose yourself.
“I… I should go,” you stammered, avoiding Mrs. Lee’s piercing gaze. “Thank you for everything, Hongjoong.”
Hongjoong reached out, his hand gently touching your arm. “Y/N, wait-”
Mrs. Lee’s voice cut through the tension. “Hongjoong, I’ve been very patient with you. My daughter, Sooyeon, is a good match for you, and it’s time you stop dilly-dallying and make a decision.”
Hongjoong’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone measured. “Mrs. Lee, I’ve told you before, I’m not ready for marriage.”
Mrs. Lee scoffed, her eyes flicking to you with clear disdain. “Not ready for marriage, yet you have time for… this?” She gestured between the two of you, her meaning unmistakable.
You felt a flush of shame and panic. “This isn’t what it looks like. I'm a married woman,” you began, but Mrs. Lee cut you off with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Save your breath, young lady. I know exactly what this is. And believe me, the town and your husband will hear about it!”
The threat hung heavy in the air, and you could see the worry etched on Hongjoong’s face. You almost fainted at the panic that rushed over you. He stepped forward, placing himself slightly between you and Mrs. Lee. “There’s no need for threats, Mrs. Lee. Y/N and I were just… discussing some alterations for her dress.”
Mrs. Lee raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Discussing alterations, were you? In each other’s arms?”
Hongjoong opened his mouth to respond, but you couldn’t bear it any longer. “Please, Mrs. Lee,” you pleaded, your voice trembling. “Don’t tell anyone. It’s not what you think.”
I don't wanna die.
I don't wanna die.
She looked at you, her lips forming into a cold smile. “I’ll keep this quiet - for now. But only if Hongjoong agrees to meet with my daughter. Alone.”
Hongjoong’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m very serious,” Mrs. Lee replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Think about it, Hongjoong. Both your reputation is on the line here.”
The room fell silent, the weight of the ultimatum pressing down on all three of you. Finally, Hongjoong sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. I’ll meet with Sooyeon.”
Mrs. Lee’s smile was triumphant. “Good. I’ll expect you at my house tomorrow evening.”
With that, she turned and left the shop, leaving you and Hongjoong standing in shocked silence. You could feel the tears welling up, the reality of the situation crashing down around you.
“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Hongjoong shook his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and sadness. “It’s not your fault, Y/N. None of this is.”
You wanted to believe him, but the guilt and fear were overwhelming. “I should go,” you said.
Hongjoong tried to stop you, but you rushed behind the curtain and hastily took the dress off. Finally, in your normal clothes again, Hongjoong tried to get ahold of you, but you took off in such a hurry he couldn't even open his mouth and practically sprinted out the open door.
“Y/N, wait,” he called after you, but you were already out the door, the tears streaming down your face. As you hurried home, you could only hope that Mrs. Lee would keep her word, because if not, there was a real possibility you would be dead real soon.
And the man you loved as well.
Your family's stall at the weekly market was as busy as ever. The familiar hustle and bustle of vendors calling out their wares and customers bartering for the best deals filled the air. You tried to focus on helping your mother arrange the vegetables, but your mind kept drifting away.
“Y/N, are you alright?” your mother asked, her brow furrowed with concern as she noticed your distracted state.
You forced a smile. “Yes, mama. Just tired, I guess.”
She took off her gloves and took your face into her callused hands. Your body immediately relaxed at your mother's touch, while your mind was spiralling.
“I should've never let your father marry you off to this douchebag,” she tearfully exclaimed.
Ah. There it was. The lies.
You knew your mother had always harboured guilt about your marriage, but it wasn't fair for her to carry the blame. It was a decision made by your father, and you had gone along with it, hoping for the best. But the weight of her words only added to the turmoil inside you. Her attempts at comfort now seemed hollow, given how often she had turned a blind eye to your suffering.
“It's not your fault, Mama,” you said gently, placing your hand over hers. “You couldn't have known how things would turn out.”
She sighed, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I just want you to be happy, Y/N. You deserve so much more than this.”
Her words stung. Where was this concern when you needed it most? When your cries for help went unheard?
While your father and older sisters didn't even pretend to care, your mother did - in a way. Yet never enough to actually help.
Maybe blaming her was too much. You knew that without your father's approval she couldn't do anything. After all, she was just a woman like you, trapped in a time where all you could do was listen and obey the men in your lives.
Yet it hurt. So much. Sometimes, all you wanted was to return to better times. Back in your mother's lap, laughing with your sisters while she told stories about love and worlds too perfect for your understanding.
You were the last unmarried child remaining in your parents house. All your sisters were married off to good, somewhat wealthy husbands, either already with child and or waiting to be blessed with the fruit of life. All was well, until your father's business began to lose some serious money. He grew desperate to maintain the family's status, and in his desperation, he had accepted the first marriage proposal that came your way - no matter the man behind it.
While all your sisters were given away to live in good, wealthy living households like the one you grew up in, your husband was working in a factory, barely making enough to support himself, yet alone a wife and future offspring.
On top of that, he didn't even hide the fact how he was treating you. Your family knew. The town knew. Yet no one really cared, because you were now nothing but a poor, lowly woman.
And so, you became an outcast in your own family. You were the sister who had married below her status, the daughter who had brought shame to the family name. Your father, once proud and authoritative, could hardly look at you without a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes. Your sisters, though affectionate in public, whispered behind your back, their words filled with pity and disdain.
Your mother's concern, when it did come, was always in private. She would hold you and cry, promising that she had tried to convince your father to wait for a better match, that she had tried fighting for you. But where was she when you needed her most? When you had begged her to intervene, to stop the marriage, she had been silent. When you had showed up late at night with wounds serious enough to kill, she sent you right back home. And now, her tears felt like salt in an old, festering wound.
But while your mother had her faults, she was really the only family member you could really confide in. So, you took a deep, steady breath and turned to her with a determined expression. “Mom, there's something I need to tell you. Siwoo… Siwoo's-”
“Y/N,” she cut you off, “Don't slander your husband's name in front of me.”
“Mom, please-”
“Enough! We're in public!” she hissed, glancing around nervously.
You bit your lip, the words dying in your throat. The market's noise seemed to close in around you, a suffocating reminder of the ever-watchful eyes of the townspeople. You had learned long ago that your cries for help would only fall on deaf ears or, worse, invite further scrutiny and gossip.
So you swallowed your pain and simply nodded. “Yes, Mama. I'm sorry.”
She looked at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of regret and helplessness. “Let's finish up here. We'll talk later at home. Could you deliver the usual supplies to Mrs. Goo? You know the old lady can't walk anymore, but she pays us well. Your sister's too busy with the children to do it herself.”
You nodded again, grateful for the distraction. As you gathered the supplies and made your way through the busy market, you tried to steady your nerves. The fresh air and distance from the stall helped clear your mind a bit, but your conversation with your mother still pressed down on you.
She didn't even try to listen to you.
Navigating the crowded paths, you marvel at the sights and sounds of the market: the colourful array of various products, the lively chatter of people, the smell of freshly baked bread. It was a small reprieve from everything, yet it didn't keep your mind occupied for long.
Turning a corner, you nearly bumped into Hongjoong, who was accompanied by Mrs. Lee's daughter, Sooyeon. The first thing you noticed was how awkward he seemed with her, keeling the woman at arms length, a stark contrast to how natural and at ease he was when he was with you.
“I'm really bad with women,” he said, clearly embarrassed.
You chuckled. “I don't believe you. You act so natural and nonchalant when you're with me! Does that mean I'm not a real woman in your eyes? you teasingly asked.
His expression turned serious. “Of course I see you as a woman. But… everything feels easy when it comes to you.”
“Hongjoong!” you exclaimed, surprised.
You hadn't seen each other for a month now, but if he had something to say about you avoiding him, he didn't speak on it.
His eyes lit up at the sight of you, but his smile was somewhat strained. “Y/N, it's good to see you.”
Sooyeon glanced between the two of you, a curious look on her face. “Hello, Y/N. How are you?” she asked, her tone polite but detached.
“I'm well, thank you. Just running some errands for my mother,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light.
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. You could sense the tension in Hongjoong's stance, the way he seemed almost relieved to see you yet burdened by Sooyeon's presence.
“Oh, look at those flowers! They’re so pretty!” Sooyeon suddenly exclaimed, her attention captured by a nearby stall. She moved toward the vibrant display, leaving you and Hongjoong a few moments alone.
Hongjoong let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Y/N, I’ve missed seeing-”
Your whole demeanour changed. Now, you thought, now's the only chance I got.
“Joong, I need your help,” you urgently whispered.
He glanced over at Sooyeon, ensuring she was still distracted. “How can I?...”
You clasped his hands with all the strength left in you. “He's gonna kill me. Tonight. H-he… he bought a gun. He's going to kill me and there's nothing I can do!” you sobbed.
Hongjoong's eyes widened in alarm, and he squeezed your hands reassuringly. “Y/N, we have to get you out of there. Do you have anywhere safe to go?”
You shook your head, panic making your thoughts race. “No, I have nowhere. I can't go back to my parents. They won't help.”
He looked around, his mind clearly racing as well. “We’ll figure something out. But first, you need to stay calm. We don’t want to draw any attention.”
“Please, Hongjoong, I’m so scared,” you whispered, your voice breaking.
He nodded firmly. “I know, but you’re not alone. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”
Sooyeon returned, holding a bouquet of vibrant flowers. “Aren’t these lovely?” she asked, oblivious to the tension.
Oblivious to the fact that in just a few hours, you would be dead. Literally gone. Irradiaticated from the world.
He forced a smile. “They are, Sooyeon.”
You took a step back, the moment of closeness slipping away. “I should get going. Take care, Hongjoong. And you too, Soo Yeon.”
“Goodbye, Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer.
I'll be coming to your house later, his eyes said.
And I'll be waiting for you, Kim Hongjoong, you answered, before turning around and walking away.
You wondered if you would ever see the man you loved again. Because if he wasn't fast enough, all he would see was your dead body on the cold floor.
The clock you'd usually hear ticking in the background now lay broken on the floor, just like everything else in this godforsaken home.
In his rage this morning, Siwoo had left nothing, beating your home and your body until nothing but a mess was left behind.
Quietly, you sat in the corner of the room, your breath shallow and uneven. You waited.
And while you did, you asked yourself one last question: how would you face your death?
Would you face it fiercely, staring it directly in the eye, brave and unwavering? The thought appealed to you, the idea of going down with defiance and dignity. But the truth was, you didn't feel brave. You felt small and terrified, a helpless pawn in a cruel game, played by a man who created his own evil rules. The bruises on your body, the scars on your soul, they only told a story of survival, not of courage.
Would you cry, beg for mercy while already knowing that there was nothing saving you from this cruel fate? Your tears had dried up long ago, replaced by a numbing acceptance. You had begged before, pleaded for mercy in both whispers and screams, but Siwoo's cruelty knew no bounds. He thrived on your pain, feeding on your despair. You learned that begging would only fuel his sadistic pleasure.
Or would you smile and take its hand, leaving this world knowing that this life was all you had, that there was no use grieving it no more? This life, filled with suffering and loss, had hardly been spent well. But in the midst of all the darkness, there were fleeting moments of light - memories of laughter with your sisters, the warmth of your mother's embrace, the gentle kindness of Hongjoong. Perhaps those moments were enough to justify a smile, a final act of defiance against a life that had sought to break you.
There was no time for an answer. The door creaked open, and Siwoo stepped in, his eyes cold and merciless.
You could almost feel death’s cold breath on your neck with his arrival.
He approached slowly, savouring the fear he thought he saw in your eyes. "Ready for round two?" he sneered, raising a hand to strike you again.
But something inside you snapped. Perhaps it was the realisation that you had nothing left to lose, or perhaps it was the flicker of defiance that had always burned within you, hidden beneath layers of pain and submission. As his hand came down, you moved.
With a speed and strength born of desperation, you grabbed the broken clock from the floor and swung it at him. The sound of shattering glass and metal was followed by his roar of pain as the clock connected with his head. He stumbled back, blood streaming down his face, his eyes wide with shock.
“You bitch!” he screamed, lunging at you. But you were ready. You dodged his attack and grabbed a shard of broken glass from the floor. The sharp edge bit into your palm, but you didn't care. You had only one thought: survival.
As he came at you again, you thrust the glass into his side. He howled in agony, doubling over. You didn't stop. You couldn't stop. You pulled the glass out and stabbed him again, and again, each thrust fueled by years of pent-up fear, anger, and pain.
He fell to the floor, clutching at his wounds, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You stood over him, your chest heaving, blood dripping from your hands. For a moment, you simply watched him, your heart pounding in your ears.
“Y/N,” he rasped, his voice weak and broken. “Please…”
But there was no mercy left in you. You raised the glass one final time and-
A hand grabbed yours. You immediately knew it wasn't your husband's, because he would never touch you like this, all soft and careful.
“Y/N,” the voice said, “Don't do it. Don't ever be like him.”
He gently pried the glass shard from your hand, his touch tender but firm. You fell into his arms, the weight of everything crashing down on you at once. His embrace was warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the violence you had just endured. He held you close, murmuring soothing words you couldn't quite make out over the sound of your own sobs.
“It's okay, it's over,” he whispered, his hand stroking your hair. “I'm here now.”
You clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a glimmer of hope. Hongjoong was here. Your Hongjoong was here. You weren't alone anymore.
It could've been the end, but the moment was short-lived.
Siwoo, with a last surge of strength, lunged at you both. His fist connected with Hongjoong's face, sending him sprawling to the floor. His punches were relentless, each blow harder than the last, and you screamed for him to stop. But he wouldn't, he couldn't. He was beyond reason, lost in his own madness. Siwoo turned to you, his eyes blazing with fury. He grabbed you by the hair, yanking you to your feet.
“You think you can get away with this?” he snarled. “You're nothing but a woman, Y/N. My woman! I can do whatever I want with you!”
You struggled relentlessly against his grip, the pain in your scalp sharp and blinding. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hongjoong trying to get up, blood trickling from his nose. Siwoon turned his attention towards your lover.
In that split second, you remembered the gun. The one Siwoo had bought. It was in the bedroom, just a few steps away. You had to get to it. You had to end this.
With a surge of adrenaline, you twisted in Siwoo's grasp, breaking free. You stumbled towards the bedroom, your heart pounding in your chest. You could hear Siwoo's footsteps behind you, his curses filling the air.
You burst into the bedroom and saw the gun on the nightstand. Your hands trembled as you grabbed it, turning just in time to see Siwoo barreling towards you, yanking Hongjoong with him. You raised the gun, your finger now laying directly on the trigger.
“Get away from him!” you screamed, your voice shaking.
Siwoo paused, a twisted grin spreading across his face. “You think you can scare me with that?”
Your hands steadied, and you took a deep breath. You locked eyes with your man for a second. “You're right, Hongjoong. I'm not like him. I'm worse.”
The first shot rang out, deafening in the small room. Siwoo's eyes widened in shock as the bullet hit him. You didn't stop. You couldn't. You fired again, and again, each shot a release of years of pain and fear and rage.
Siwoo collapsed to the floor, his body twitching one last time, blood pooling around him. You stood over him, the gun still in your hands, your breath coming in ragged gasps.
He was dead. You dropped the gun and turned to Hongjoong, who was struggling to sit up. You rushed to his side, cradling his face in your hands.
“Are you okay?” you whispered, tears streaming down your face.
He nodded weakly, his eyes filled with pain but also relief. “I am. But you aren't.”
It wasn't a question, yet you shook your head. You laughed, and Hongjoong looked at you like you were crazy. Maybe you were.
“I've never felt this good,” you whispered, “because now I can do this.”
Careful to not hurt him further, you took his face into your hands. He was all bloody, but nonetheless beautiful.
And then, you pressed your lips onto his, desperate and hungry and so, so much more.
Hongjoong responded, his arms wrapping around you despite the pain. He held you close, pouring all his love and reassurance into the kiss. When you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily.
But as the adrenaline faded, reality started to set in. The room was a mess, the evidence of the struggle all around you. The sight of Siwoo's lifeless body, the blood on the floor, and the gun still warm in your hand triggered a rising panic within you.
You started to hyperventilate, your breath coming in shallow, rapid gasps. “What have I done? Hongjoong, what have I done?” you whispered, your voice trembling.
Hongjoong cupped your face in his hands, trying to calm you down. “Y/N, look at me. Focus on me. We need to think clearly.”
But it was too late. The full weight of what had just happened crashed down on you. You screamed, a raw, primal sound that echoed through the house. You fell to the floor, clutching your head, rocking back and forth as the horror of the situation consumed you.
Hongjoong knelt beside you, trying to soothe you, but his own panic was beginning to surface. “Y/N, please, we need to stay calm. We need to make a plan.”
His words barely registered through the fog that clouded your brain. Your cries grew louder, more desperate, as you struggled to comprehend the violence you had just unleashed.
“My angel, my love”, he pleaded with you, “listen to me. You have to listen to what I-”
In the distance, you both heard the sound of approaching footsteps and voices. Many approaching footsteps and noises. The shots had already alerted the people, and they were coming to investigate. The panic in Hongjoong's eyes matched your own as he realised the danger you were in.
“Y/N, listen to me,” he said urgently, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you lightly to get your attention. “We don't have much time. They're coming.”
Through your tears, you managed to focus on him. “What do we do, Hongjoong? What do we do?!”
His mind raced as he formulated a plan. It was desperate and dangerous, but it was the only way he could think to protect you. He picked up the gun and looked at you with a pained expression. “Y/N, I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?”
You nodded without hesitation. “I-i do, Joongie. Of course I do! But don't you dare try to endang-”
Before you could protest further, he aimed the gun right at your leg and pulled the trigger. The pain was immediate and excruciating, a burning agony that shot through your body. You screamed, collapsing to the floor, clutching your wounded leg.
Just a moment later, numerous people burst through the door, their eyes widening at the violent scene before them. Siwoo's body on the floor, you bleeding and crying, and Hongjoong holding the gun.
“What have you done?” you cried out, not even realising this sent off a completely wrong message to all the surrounding people.
What you meant was why, why would he ever sacrifice himself like that.
Why?
Why?
But all the mob heard was you screaming in anger at the man who just supposedly killed your husband, and now tried to shoot you.
Why, you wanted to scream. At whom you weren't too sure; at the universe, at God, at Hongjoong himself.
And as the angry mob launched at him, as multiple people were surrounding you and the lifeless corpse of your former husband, all you could think about was how not one, but two men lost their lives today.
Your abuser, and your lover.
And in the middle of it there was a woman who wept for them both, once out of sheer, unexplainable happiness, and once at the loss of the man whom she could now never hold in her arms again.
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