Moon Rabbit
Genre: Smut
+13k words
Gfriend/Viviz Eunha x Male Reader
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Amongst the monotonous drone of the harsh fluorescent lights and the mysterious smell emanating from the bathrooms, it’s hard not to feel a little pessimistic about life. It would be so easy to air out your long list of grievances to anyone that’ll listen, but complaining to the kind of people this place attracts—late night travelers who’d struggle putting two and two together— is always more trouble than it’s worth.
“Welcome to 7/11!”
The ring of the entrance chime followed by the soft yet enthusiastic voice of your coworker is a constant that you have yet to get used to, even after a whole three weeks of hearing it nonstop. You told Eunha plenty of times before that she doesn’t have to greet the customers, yet she continues to do so anyway, something about “responsibility” and “upholding the company’s image”—as if the company’s image isn’t rotisserie hot dogs and gallon-sized slushies.
At best, she’ll get a polite nod, at worst, they scoff and act as if a simple gesture is the worst thing that’s ever happened to them. Her greetings might be more suited to the morning crowd, but she insists that she’s not much of a morning person. You don’t exactly care enough to verify her statements, so you’re content with her keeping you company during the night shift.
“Let me know if you need help with anything!” Eunha calls out to the customer as he aimlessly wanders through the aisles. You’ve grown accustomed to the late night visits from these kinds of people, guys in their early 20’s who seem either too drunk and/or faded to respond properly; hopefully, he’ll just quietly pay for his things and leave without any trouble.
“Yo,” he utters, carelessly dropping a single beer can and a box of large condoms onto the counter. You give him a curt nod, trying not to make a face as the violent stench of weed attacks your nostrils. Figures.
“$7.50.”
“Hey bro, do you know if that chick over there has a boyfriend?” He looks over at Eunha as she stocks the shelves, baggy eyes tracing her body through a half-lidded gaze. You simply shrug. Whatever she does outside of work is none of your business.
The man chuckles to himself, grabbing his things off the counter. “Watch this.” He saunters over to her and engages in a conversation that you can’t quite make out. Even as you try to distract yourself with other work, you can’t help but tense up slightly, stealing glances towards your coworker.
Eunha puts on her signature smile, nodding her head to everything he’s saying. Occasionally she’ll laugh, more so out of politeness than anything. If you would have to describe her with one word, “polite” would probably be enough. Maybe overly so, but hey, who’re you to judge her of all people about small talk?
Then, you notice a small crack in her expression. The corners of her lips drop ever so slightly. Her eyes widen just a smidge. Now he’s walking towards her, backing her up into a corner, like a predator stalking its prey.
You’ve learned not to stick your nose into other people’s business; even the simple act of lending an ear has cost you time and energy that ultimately led you to getting kicked to the curb the second you’re no longer of use. It’s exhausting. You’d do anything to forget that kind of pain, even if it means your existence is a bit lonelier. And yet, despite your better judgment, you grab a spare broom and begin sweeping towards the problem, stepping in between them right as Eunha’s back hits one of the fridges.
“Excuse me,” you mutter, your eyes never leaving the ground.
“Bro, what the fuck are you—”
“I’m trying to do my job,” you state, jerking your neck to glare at him. The man scoffs in annoyance before stomping towards the exit, grumbling incoherently while he knocks a couple chip bags off the shelves.
“Thanks,” Eunha says, breathing a sigh of relief. “He kept asking for my number and wouldn’t stop after I said ‘no’. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t here.”
You shrug, continuing to sweep the rest of the store. In hindsight, there might not have been a need for you to intervene in the first place; Eunha is a grown woman that can probably take care of herself, and what kind of damage could a guy like that do anyways? Yet, despite everything, you still chose to play the hero. What’s done is done.
As you go back to your place by the register, you notice Eunha beaming brighter than ever before despite no one else being around.
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Eunha groans, face planting into the counter. “I’m bored.”
“You could deep clean the coffee machine,” you suggest, eliciting an even louder groan from her.
You think about telling her to switch to the afternoon shift, but refrain from it in the end, figuring she probably has her own reasons for wanting to work this late. You chose the night shift out of necessity more than anything. Countless sleepless nights led you to the conclusion that you might as well get some compensation for your suffering.
Eunha’s face suddenly lights up as she goes over to the fridges and grabs two beer cans. “We should drink!” she says.
“Those are for the customers,” you state.
“I’ll pay for them, dummy. Besides, there’s literally nothing else to do. No one has stopped by for hours.”
You stare at her pleading face, slightly impressed by how well she manages to pull off “puppy-dog eyes”. You don’t consider yourself much of a drinker—going down that road only left you with an unbearable sickness that made “taking the edge off” not even worth it—but a hunch in the back of your mind tells you to go for it anyways. Maybe “puppy-dog eyes” actually do work; maybe the boredom’s gotten to you too.
“Woohoo!” she cheers. “Let’s go sit out front! I wanna look at the stars.” Eunha grabs the cans and a large bag of chips from the shelf before running out of the store with the excitement of a kid in a candy store. With a sigh, you follow behind her.
Your breath catches in your throat as the outside chill hits you like a speeding train, sending an unpleasant shiver through your spine that makes you regret even considering this stupid idea. You turn to retreat back to the warmth of the store, but a brief glimpse of Eunha waving you down with such genuine enthusiasm pulls you in, and before you can even think to stop yourself, you’re already grabbing the beer can from her outstretched hand.
“Isn’t it beautiful tonight?” she comments, gazing up at the stars above. It’s… nice. Better than the harsh fluorescent lights of the store, for sure.
“Yeah,” you utter, taking a swig from your can. You grimace at the bitterness, a reminder of why you stopped in the first place.
“Woah pal, I don’t need to hear your life story,” she quips, chuckling at her own joke. “Isn’t this better than being stuck in that smelly old store all night?”
You shrug. “It’s… alright, I guess.”
She stares at you for a while, studying your expression with a focused squint.
“...What?” you mutter, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her gaze.
“Nothing, sorry.” She shakes her head, her gaze falling to the unopened beer in her hands. A tense moment passes before she finally clicks it open and takes a small sip, wincing as she swallows the bitter liquid. “Um, do you… hate me or something?”
You turn to her in confusion. “Hate” isn’t a word you associate with Eunha. Truly, you don’t think anyone could hate someone like her. Maybe you get a little irked by her inability to set up the shelves properly, but nobody’s perfect, least of all you. In fact, you don’t have any strong feelings about her one way or another. She’s just your coworker.
Just that.
Nothing else.
“No, not at all,” you reply.
A small grin forms on Eunha’s lips. “That’s good. I was worried that maybe I did something and that’s why you never talk to me.”
Huh? “I talk to you.”
“Yeah, no, I mean, like, really talking. Not just about work and stuff,” she explains. “We’ve been working together for, like, months and I barely know anything about you!”
“It’s barely been three weeks,” you correct her, earning a dramatic eye roll. “Do you really need to know anything about me to work here?”
Eunha grimaces at your answer. “I guess not, but it would be nice to know if I’m working with a serial killer or not.” She takes another small sip from her can, tension seeping into the frigid air between you two.
“I’m not a serial killer,” you state.
“Well, I wouldn’t know that if you didn’t tell me.”
“I could be lying.”
She turns to you, studying your expression with an intense focus. “Hmm… I don’t think you’re lying.”
“You think?” You raise an eyebrow at her.
She shrugs. “For starters, aren’t most serial killers supposed to be charming to lure in their victims and stuff? No offense, but you’re the least charming person I’ve ever met.”
“Better than being a serial killer I guess.”
She chuckles to herself, dissolving any lingering tension in the air. “So you have a sense of humor. That’s good to know.”
“I guess I do.”
Eunha lifts her can towards you, flashing you a warm smile that wards away the bitter winds. You watch as the corners of her lips curl at a certain angle, her eyes squinting ever so slightly to make room to smile even wider. How impossibly white and symmetrical her teeth are, as if god or whoever is up there took their time creating her. In hindsight, she’s probably perfect for this job - kind, inviting, instantly putting you at ease with a single glance. A smile seems so natural on her, it feels like the sky would fall if it disappeared from her face for even a moment.
“Hello?” She waves her hand in front of your face. “My arm is getting tired here, are you gonna cheers me or not?”
You shake your head. “Right. Sorry.” You clink your can against hers before bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste of alcohol is nonexistent at this point, replaced by subtle yet present undertones of sweetness. You peek through the top of the can, confirming that it’s still the same old cheap beer it was mere seconds ago. Yet, for now, it’s just a little more bearable.
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To put it lightly, this fucking sucks.
The shadows dance and jeer at you from your ceiling as if to celebrate your misfortune. All you can do is watch the show play out as you barely cling to life. An earlier Google search of your symptoms tells you that it’s just “a common cold”, but you’d swear Death itself has a personal vendetta with you, cursing you with rusty lungs and cinder blocks for limbs. Regretfully, you retrieve your phone from your nightstand, sending Eunha a text that you aren’t able to make it to work tonight.
A sudden weight jumping onto your chest causes you to drop your phone onto the floor. Two yellow marbles coldly stare at you through the darkness, silently judging your poor condition.
“Y-Yokai, please… I can’t b-breathe…” With weak hands, you try to gently push your cat off of your chest, but it’s no use. Every time you try to get close, the little beast nips at your fingers.
This is it. This is how you die. You never believed in the superstition about black cats, but perhaps you should’ve heeded its warning. Maybe this is his way of telling you that he never liked you in the first place, in spite of all you’ve done for him as his caretaker. Years from now, when someone finally notices that you’re missing, they’ll find your corpse with Yokai resting right on top, like he’s gloating about outliving you. You shut your eyes, quickly accepting your fate. On the brightside, maybe you’ll finally get some sleep for once.
A knock on your front door causes him to jump off your chest to inspect the noise. You silently thank the stranger at your front door as your lungs finally fill with air. As far as you’re concerned, they just saved your life.
WIth a blanket wrapped around you, you struggle against your headache and stumble towards the door. The person on the other side makes you wonder if you should add hallucinations to your list of symptoms.
“Hi!” Eunha beams at you, a plastic bag in her hands. “I brought you some stuff to help with your cold!”
“H-huh?” You stand there in shock, a million questions floating through your head. “What about the store?”
She shrugs. “I closed it for a bit. I’m sure the two customers that would’ve shown up tonight will live.”
Never in a million years did you expect anyone, aside from the occasional delivery man, to show up to your doorstep, let alone with the purpose of providing you aid. It’s… nice. You’re probably better off with a good night’s rest, but god knows you’ll never get one.
“Are you gonna invite me in? It’s rude to keep a woman waiting, y’know,” she teases.
“R-right.” You step aside, allowing her into your apartment that hasn’t seen another human soul the entire time you’ve lived in it. As luck would have it, another person arrives on the one day that you’re unable to clean anything. “Sorry about the mess.”
“It’s alright—Oh!” Yokai leaps from the shadows, stopping just a few feet in front of her to inspect the stranger entering his home. “Hi there! Oh my gosh, you’re so cute!”
Eunha kneels down to his level and offers her hand towards him. Taking the invitation, Yokai approaches her with cautious yet curious steps, his eyes dilated and ready. After a seemingly tense moment, his pupils soften as he presses his small face into her palms, accepting her enthusiastic pets.
“I can’t believe you never told me about your cat!” she playfully berates you. “What’s its name?”
“His name is Yokai,” you answer, collapsing haphazardly onto the couch. “Found him on the street when I first moved here.”
She raises an eyebrow at you. “You named your cat after Japanese demons?”
You shrug. “It seemed fitting at the time.”
Eunha chuckles, giving him one last pet before placing the bag on the table. “I brought you some cold meds, green tea, and a can of chicken soup. Is it alright if I use your kitchen to heat up the soup?”
You wave her off. “Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.”
She rolls her eyes at you, grabbing the can and walking over to the kitchen in defiance. “If I didn’t want to do this, I would’ve just dropped it off and left.”
With barely any energy left to argue, you resign yourself to resting your head against the armrest, listening to the clanging of metal and the creaking of wood as Eunha searches your cabinets for a pot. Three flickers followed by the gentle poof of the stovetop bring you back to simpler times when your mother would cook meals for you as a kid. That comforting feeling of knowing that everything would end up okay even if the current times are tough.
A feeling you haven’t felt in a long time.
Hope isn’t something you like to cling onto; you know at this point that hoping for something as supposedly inevitable as sleep is a waste of time. Some nights you’ll get lucky, the stars will align and you’ll fade into bliss as soon as your head hits the pillow, but those nights are so few and far between that they might as well be nothing but coincidences. It was much harder during the earlier days. Countless checkups, thousands of desperate Google searches and Reddit posts, downing melatonin like the next gummy could solve all your problems.
And yet, as the savory scent of chicken soup lingers closer, you can feel your eyelids grow heavier and heavier.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Eunha says, nudging you gently. “The soup is gonna get cold if you don’t eat it now.”
“Right.” You sit up, finding yourself mere inches from her bright smile, the steam from the soup wafting in between you two. She brings a spoonful of the warming liquid to your lips, blowing on it first to cool it down.
“Open wide,” she says.
“I can feed myself.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Humor me for a sec. Besides, when’s the next time a pretty girl like me is gonna spoon feed you soup?”
You stifle a chuckle at her shamelessness, reluctantly parting your lips. The saltiness washes over your tastebuds, warming your entire body as the liquid slides down your throat. It’s the same cheap chicken soup you’ve eaten before when money was scarce, yet something about it feels different; like it’s healing your heart, not your stomach. Perhaps your illness is messing with your tastebuds, but whatever the reason, it tastes way better than it normally would.
“See, was that so hard?” Eunha teases. A buzz from her pocket interrupts her from giving you a second spoonful. “Sorry, I need to take this real quick, it’s my boyfriend.”
So she does have a boyfriend.
“Yeah, go ahead,” you say, retrieving the bowl from her. She gives you an appreciative grin before walking over to the kitchen and answering the call.
Whatever goes on in Eunha’s personal life is her business, not yours. Yet, you can’t exactly stop your ears from catching onto glimpses of words, attempting to decipher some kind of meaning through the fog. None of it is coherent, but her disappointed sighs and harsh whispers don’t exactly paint a pretty picture—certainly not one you expect from a loving couple.
After a brief moment, Eunha walks back into the living room, her expression noticeably darker than before. The smile that she usually dons is jarringly absent and her eyes are glossy, as if she’s on the brink of tears.
“Sorry, um… I have to go,” she mutters, unable to meet your eyes. “I have to pick up my boyfriend, he’s, uh… been drinking again.”
You can’t help but feel worried at her sudden downtrodden look, unfamiliar on her face. “That’s alright. Will you be okay?”
“Uh, yeah, I’ll be fine.” She tries to put on a reassuring smile, but the look of dread dripping from her eyes and the lack of soul in her expression only leaves you more anxious than before. “He gets like this sometimes. It’s… nothing, really.”
An unfamiliar feeling grows in the pit of your stomach, an urge to provide some ounce of comfort. But this isn’t your place to intervene; that’s what you keep telling yourself, at least.
“I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow then? Or whenever you feel better.” Eunha quickly gathers her things and heads towards the door, but Yokai jumps in front of her.
“Bye, Yokai. I hope this isn’t the only time I see you,” she says, offering him a few gentle pets. Right before she disappears behind the door, Eunha looks back at you, holding an expression you can’t quite read. The door shuts with an audible click, and the vast emptiness of your apartment envelopes you once again.
Suffice to say, you don’t get much sleep that night.
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“So…” Eunha tilts her head to give you a better look. “What do you think?”
You shrug. “It’s… pink.”
Her lips curl into a pout, unsatisfied with your answer. “This is the first time you’ve seen me dye my hair and that’s all you can say?”
It’s another quiet night at the store, somehow quieter than usual. These late night chats with Eunha have become a sort of tradition between you two, a tradition you’ve grown decently fond of these past few weeks. Nowadays, she doesn’t even bother with the alcohol, instead simply asking you if you want to watch the stars with her. The chilly nights are still a bit bothersome, but the company more than makes up for it at this point.
Conversations mostly consist of listening to her talk about things in her personal life, her school, her friends, and occasionally, her boyfriend. Sometimes she’ll ask questions about your own life. You try your best to answer, but frankly, you don’t consider there to be anything worth noting. She’ll pry a bit, but respects your choice to be quiet about these things. A gesture that you’ve come to appreciate.
“What am I supposed to say?” you ask her.
“Anything,” she says. “Whatever’s on your mind. I just wanna know what your opinion is.”
“But it’s your hair, why should my opinion matter?”
“Maybe it doesn’t, but that doesn’t make me any less curious.” She shifts herself towards you, giving you a good view of her new look. “So, tell me. What do you think?”
A loaded question for sure. You know better than to be too honest about these kinds of things, but you also know that she won’t be satisfied unless you put effort towards a real, honest answer. You lean in to better analyze her features, tracing every single detail of not just her hair but the visage that it crowns.
She’s cute, you think. You know. The bright pink of her hair brings out the porcelain of her skin, giving her the appearance of a doll, well crafted and loved by its creator. Every single feature is perfectly and meticulously placed, down to the spacing of her eyelashes and the angle of her nose. It’s no surprise the amount of stories she has about getting hit on in random places. Maybe if you had a bit more confidence and a bit less sense, you would’ve ended up like one of those stories. But you know better than to indulge those kinds of thoughts, especially one about a coworker.
“It looks… nice,” you utter after a moment of thinking.
Eunha softly chuckles to herself. “I guess that’s about as good of an answer I’m gonna get from you.” She leans back against her palms, releasing a deep breath into the night. “You’re pretty fun to talk to.”
You raise an eyebrow at her. 99% of your conversations consist of her talking while you listen and offer the occasional nod. She might as well be speaking to a brick wall with a conscience.
“I’m serious,” she says, laughing at your expression. “Y’know, a lot of girls like a guy that can listen as well as you do.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
Her lips quiver in hesitation before speaking again. “Do you… have a girlfriend?”
You shake your head no.
“Boyfriend? Partner? I don’t judge.”
No again.
“Hmm…” She nods, her mind falling into deep thought. “That’s surprising.”
“Is it?” you argue. “If I remember correctly, you said I was ‘the least charming person you’ve ever met’.”
“That was a joke!” she exclaims. “I’m sure there’s someone out there that thinks you’re charming.”
You shrug, letting your gaze float to the stars in contemplation. You’ve had your fair share of relationships in the past, good and bad. You thought you would spend the rest of your life with the last girl, but as fate would have it, that just wasn’t in the cards for either of you. The days spent lazing in each other’s arms suddenly turned into nights where being in the same room was unbearable, and the minor quirks you once adored became the topic of all your shouting matches that punctuated the end of your relationship.
So now you’re here, working at a convenience store during the ungodly hours of the night and going home to a cat that likely wants you dead.
“That’s a possibility,” you say, not wanting to sound too nihilistic.
“Come on, give yourself some credit.” Eunha pats your shoulder supportively. “I’ve seen how some of the female customers look at you.”
You can’t help but grimace at her words. “They’re not really… my type.”
“Then what is your type?” she asks, eyes wide with intrigue.
Another loaded question, one that you honestly don’t know the answer to. Or perhaps, an answer that you don’t want to materialize, for fear of the can of worms it would open, so you take the easy way out.
“I don’t know. I’m not really interested in dating right now.”
“That’s lame, dating is… Well, it should be fun,” she says. A glimpse of something hides beneath her expression, nigh imperceptible if it wasn’t for that brief glint in her eyes. “I’m going to a club with my friends this weekend for my birthday, you should come! Maybe I can set you up with one of them.”
“No, absolutely not,” you adamantly refuse. A club is the last place you would ever want to go to on a weekend. Bumping against sweaty strangers in a cramped space while bass boosted garbage spews from the speakers isn’t your idea of fun.
“Please, it’s for my birthday!” she begs. “It’ll be fun, I swear!”
“Eunha.”
She clasps her hands together, pouting her lip and flashing you those large puppy eyes. “Please~”
You don’t consider yourself to be spineless or a pushover; the exact opposite, in fact. The less you do for others, the less issues you’ll have going forward.
But it is really, really difficult to say no whenever she gives you that face.
You sigh, averting your gaze to hide the blush creeping against your cheeks. “...What does your friend look like?”
Eunha squeals in delight, fishing her phone from her pocket. “Here.”
She hands you her phone, displaying a photo of a woman around your age. Long, wavy hair cascades perfectly down her shoulders, framing her delicate features, while a dress made of fiery purples and reds clings to her slim frame, giving her an air of class and maturity. A woman that’s, to put it bluntly, way out of your league.
“Her name is Yuju,” Eunha explains. “She’s really into music, and she takes pole dancing classes on the weekends. Pretty hot, eh?”
“I suppose,” you say. “You think she’ll find me ‘charming’?”
“Ye—Hmm… I guess we’ll find out.”
Not reassuring in the slightest. You’ve gone and doomed yourself to a weekend of brushing backsides with the worst people you can imagine, people who have no regard for personal space or public perception, all for a woman you don’t know.
Well, not a woman you don’t know. It’s for Eunha’s birthday, after all. Her and those damn eyes.
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Eunha is good company. You like having her around, even if you’ll never admit that to her. She’s good—decent at her job, and in between the stench of hot dogs and the occasional rude customer, there’s comfort in knowing that there’s someone like her on this godforsaken planet.
You can’t say the same about her friends.
“Hey~!”
“OMG, you’re so tall!”
“Eunha, your friend is so handsome!”
Skip the pleasantries entirely, you’d rather be anywhere but here right now. They don’t even try to hide their early signs of intoxication as they sway to the muffled beats leaking through the walls of the club and onto the streets outside. Eunha, seemingly sensing your discomfort, stays by your side.
“They can be a handful at times, but they’re nice,” Eunha says.
“Eh… What about her?” You discreetly gesture towards one of her friends that’s been sending you death threats through a not-so-subtle glare the second you arrived.
“Oh, that’s SinB. She’s, uh… She’s friendly once you get to know her.” Eunha gives you a small yet reassuring grin, which honestly does little to comfort you. You appreciate the gesture nonetheless.
The line creeps ever closer towards the entrance of the club, signified by the trashy music growing louder with each step. Just a peek through the door and you’re already grimacing at the thought of having to spend a single second in this wretched haven of hedonism.
“Which one is Yuju?” you ask, trying to get your mind off of the impending dread building in your stomach.
“She’s running a little late, stuck in traffic.” Eunha smirks at you, waggling her eyebrows. “You excited to meet her in person?”
You shrug. “I don’t know. I guess?”
She rolls her eyes at you. “Word of advice, try not to be too much of an emotionless robot in front of her.”
You open your mouth to argue, but the bass blasting from the speakers drowns out anything you try to say. Not like you can even think of a proper argument with how overwhelming everything is.
As you follow Eunha deeper into the club, you instantly regret not making up some lame excuse at the last minute and bolting. You can barely take two steps without bumping into anyone, a task made more difficult with the lack of proper lighting and the disorienting stench of some unknown substance floating around. The smell emanating from the hot dog machine at work is more favorable to this.
“Here you go, girl!” one of Eunha’s friends exclaims, gesturing towards a seating area sectioned off with velvet rope. On the table sits a light up centerpiece reading “Happy Birthday, Eunha!” surrounded by an abundance of expensive-looking alcohol. Her friend must be loaded because there’s no way Eunha could afford any of this with a convenience store salary. Consequently, your present for her pales in comparison to this kind of extravagance.
“Oh my god!” Eunha squeals, hopping with excitement, “Thank you so much, this is insane!”
The way her face lights up with happiness almost makes coming here worth it. So, you do your best to endure, downing shot after shot with everyone else while trashy music bleeds into your brain. Eunha steals glances at you from the far end of the booth, offering an apologetic look as her rowdier friends bombard you with incoherent words and shot glasses overflowing with poison. You meet each look with a smile and a simple wave, yet it’s becoming an increasingly herculean task to not let the lingering burn of alcohol in your throat manifest itself onto your visage.
A woman with long wavy hair approaches Eunha, and the two pull each other into a giddy embrace, exchanging words and excited giggles. You can’t quite make out their conversation—not like you’re trying to eavesdrop—but with the way Eunha is pointing at you and the vaguely familiar silhouette of the other woman, you’d have to guess that she’s probably Yuju.
“Hello!” she hollers, her voice straining against the distorted thump of the speakers. “Are you Eunha’s friend?”
“Yeah.”
Yuju extends her hand towards you, sporting a polite grin. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
In any other scenario, maybe you could’ve had a decent conversation with her. Hell, maybe you could’ve even fallen in love with her. You’re not blind; she’s certainly an attractive woman. But in a place like this, where you’re constantly fighting the urge to up and leave, it’s impossible to try and form any kind of connection. And you genuinely try. More for Eunha’s sake than yours, but the attempt is still there.
Halfway through the barely discernible wall of words, you feel a pressure on your thigh. It creeps upwards slowly, inch by inch, stopping just shy of your crotch. Yuju bites her lip at you, her eyes half-lidded and heavy with seduction, leaning in until you can feel the heat from her breath against your ear. Thus far, you’ve been guessing her words and trying to formulate a response based on what you could lip read. But what she whispers into your ear rings true, like the whole world went silent just so you could hear her.
“Let’s cut the bullshit already and get to the fun part. I haven’t had dick in so long, I just need to feel you inside me.”
The rush of adrenaline sparked from her words alone leaves you reeling as you feel yourself being tugged around by this woman you just met, struggling to keep balance in the sea of faceless strangers. The sounds, the sights, the fucking everything about this place melts reality like goo seeping through your fingers, where the only constant is the fire in your windpipe and the sign for the women’s bathroom growing larger with each step.
This kind of spontaneity is probably good for someone like you. These days, you barely make an effort to make friends as it is, the thought of going out and actively trying to date didn’t even cross your mind until recently. It’s not like the thought of having sex with Yuju doesn’t excite you a little, you are human after all. With all the bleak memories you have from your last relationship, maybe it’s time that you let it go and let something good happen to you for once.
But is this good? You’re about to have sex with a woman you just met, in the bathroom of a club of all places. Exciting, sure, but good? You don’t even have a condom on your person, and judging by her current state, it doesn’t seem like Yuju has one either. All you have is your wallet and Eunha’s gift.
Eunha.
By some act of divine intervention or your own instincts, your eyes snap to the middle of the dance floor. Through the sea of drunken silhouettes, you see Eunha, frozen against the continuous wave of moving bodies. Her smile is gone. There’s a man there, slowly encroaching on her. Maybe they’re just talking. Her friends are around, surely they can protect her if she’s in any danger.
But they’re not there. Most are still at the booth, inhaling bottle after bottle without a second thought, while one pulls you towards the bathroom, too horny to consider the consequences of her own actions.
The man touches Eunha’s shoulder. She tries to swat him away, but he’s bigger than her. Much bigger. Like a vicious wolf cornering a poor rabbit.
Without another moment of hesitation, you break free from Yuju’s grasp, shoving your way through the crowd with complete disregard for everyone except Eunha. Most people will think you’re the biggest idiot for throwing away an opportunity with a woman like Yuju, but you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you choose meaningless sex over the safety of your only friend.
You grab the man’s wrist, pulling Eunha behind you. “Get away from her,” you growl.
“Fuck off.” He tries to shove you aside, but you stand firm, refusing to budge in the slightest. You’re probably—no, definitely—a fool for trying to stand up to a guy built like a fridge. The scrawny guy at the store is nothing compared to this giant meathead. But as you feel Eunha cling onto the back of your jacket, her hands trembling in fear, you know that you’ll stand before the wolf time and time again to protect the poor rabbit.
Before things can get even more heated, you grab Eunha and make a dash towards the exit, knocking over a few people in the process. Even so, you don’t stop running until the cool air of the outside bites at your cheeks.
“Shit,” you pant, leaning against the wall of a neighboring building to catch your breath. “Are you ok—”
Eunha wraps her arms around you, pressing her face into your chest. Every breath she takes quivers like the last leaf on a dying tree, desecrated by a furious storm. All you can do is hold her, trying to provide some ounce of comfort as she sobs in your arms.
The world is cruel to you, a fact you came to terms with long ago. It’s stolen many of the things you held dear, leaving you to cling to the pieces left behind and try to rebuild your life out of nothing. You built walls, avoided people entirely, did everything you could do so you never have to feel that kind of pain again. And after all that, you’re left to simply exist. Survive. Not ‘live’ in the way people somehow wake up with the sun and breathe in the dawn of a new day with hope in their hearts. Just be.
And then Eunha came into your life, walking into the doors of the convenience store with her bubbly smile and boundless energy. All the time you’ve worked alongside her, listening to her greet every single customer with such enthusiasm, enduring her brutally honest criticisms of your personality, succumbing to her demands every time she flashes those damn eyes at you, she’s made you look at life differently, whether you liked it or not. She didn’t even have to chip away at your walls at all—you tore them down yourself and built a grand entrance into your soul just for her. Because you wanted to. Because you like the way she smiles like nothing bad could ever happen, you like how she manages to find the good in everything and everyone, and you like that she still wants to talk to you despite your brick wall of a personality.
To see her like this, breaking down in your arms, on her birthday of all days, is nothing short of soul crushing.
“Thank you for that,” Eunha murmurs, her voice tiny and fragile. “Um, can we go?”
“Sure,” you reply in a calming tone. “Where to?”
“Anywhere but here.”
The two of you wander the streets in silence, nothing but the muffled hum of faraway chatter and the occasional car passing by to keep you company. She stays deathly quiet, a state you’ve never seen her in. With everything that just happened, you don’t blame her, but you can’t help but feel chills at her solemn expression. It’s like the sun’s gone dark, leaving the whole world in a forever winter.
You pass by a 7/11, not thinking much of it, but Eunha stops underneath its glowing sign. “...You wanna drink?” she asks, giving you a small yet hopeful smile.
Alcohol is probably the last thing either of you need at the moment, yet you find yourself nodding anyway. It’s hard saying no to that face.
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Time ticks by at a pace more glacial than the frigid winds buffeting you as Eunha chugs down her second can of cheap beer, crumpling it in her hands as if to release all her pent up emotions inside. On a normal day, you would’ve found it a little funny, maybe even cute, to think that the living embodiment of a summer day has inner turmoil that she can only externalize through the crushing of an aluminum can. But on tonight of all nights, the shrill crunch becomes a harsh reminder that life’s cruelty shows no mercy.
“Are you okay?” you utter, unable to move your gaze from the ground. Of course it’s a stupid question—who would be okay after almost getting assaulted?—but, it’s a start, if anything.
“Um… I don’t know.” Her despondent voice is punctuated by the metallic crash of aluminum against concrete. “Do you want the short version or the long version?”
“I have time.”
Eunha inhales deeply, letting the chilling winds of the night fill her lungs, before breathing it back out into the elements. “No. I’m not okay, and I haven’t been for a long time. I know, it sounds a bit dramatic, but it’s just…” she sighs, “It’s just how I feel.”
“I don’t think you’re being dramatic at all,” you reassure her, earning an appreciative grin in response.
“Um… God, I really don’t know where to start with this,” she says, her face falling into her hands. “School has been kicking my ass lately, which isn’t that big of an issue in the shitstorm that is my life, but it’s there. Last week, one of my professors chewed me out for accidentally submitting the wrong file for an assignment, so I spent the entire day just crying in bed.” A small laugh leaves her nose at the fact, void of any humor.
“And then my friends. They’re great and I love them with all my heart, but they can be such a handful.” With each word, she sinks deeper and deeper into herself as the burden she’s been silently carrying threatens to end her. “Sowon—the tall one that paid for the table—she has a reputation for sleeping around campus, which is fine, I’m not gonna tell her what she can and can’t do with her own body. But her life is filled with so much drama, and I end up having to play therapist for her, and it just gets so exhausting.”
You nod in understanding, keeping silent as she spills out her grievances. It’s not a pleasant sight, but pain rarely is. This image that she’s built up for herself as this happy-go-lucky fairy of a person, the image that you’ve consumed without question because doing otherwise would be like the sky falling around you, tears itself down to reveal the ugly truth underneath: That she’s human. And all humans suffer, even the ones that you wish didn’t.
“You remember the night I came into work with my hair dyed?” she asks after a long pause, her gaze fixated on the crumpled can below. “I broke up with my boyfriend that morning. I just… couldn’t handle all the hurt and neglect anymore, so I left.”
The revelation comes as a shock to you, even if all the signs were there in hindsight. “I’m sorry to hear that,” you offer, nervously fidgeting with the tiny box in your pocket.
“Y’know, he always hated when I dyed my hair. Said I looked like a slut whenever I did it.” The word sounds so crass against her gentle voice, like a grisly wound on unblemished skin. You feel an unfamiliar anger boiling inside of you at the notion that someone would even think to hurt her.
“And with how things turned out tonight, maybe he was right—”
“Hey,” you lightly interject. “I don’t think you look like… that at all.”
Her dejection cracks a little, giving way to a small smile accompanied by the faint hum of a chuckle. “Thanks. Maybe if that other guy thought the same as you, I wouldn’t feel like this.”
With a deep breath, you retrieve the small box from your pocket and hand it to her. “Here.”
“What’s this?” Eunha takes the box from your hand, her brow raised in curiosity.
“Your birthday present. It’s not much, but… yeah. It’s not much.”
Tentatively, she opens it up, revealing a necklace with a rabbit pendant hanging from it. Her face lights up, and for a moment, you forget that she was ever sad in the first place. A newfound sense of determination wells within you, and something that you’ve kept hidden deep inside finally comes to light: you would do anything to protect that smile.
“This is so cute, I love it!” she remarks, fiddling with the chain as she tries and fails to put it on. “Uh, a little help?”
“Sure.” You take the necklace from her, and as she pulls up her hair to reveal the delicate skin of her neck, your hands begin to tremor nervously, making it nearly impossible to secure the necklace.
“Is everything alright back there?” she teases. “I can feel you shaking.”
“Y-yeah, no, it’s fine.” The stutter in your voice dashes any attempts at trying to sound natural. It’s a simple act, putting a necklace around your friend, but something about it feels so intimate, like the first hint of warmth after a long and arduous storm. Once you finally secure the clasp in place, a breath you didn’t know you were holding empties from your lungs.
“Thanks,” she says, admiring the rabbit pendant. “Thanks for everything, really.”
“I didn’t do much.”
“But you did something,” she reasons, her voice lilting with an air of melancholy, “You did a lot more than anyone else ever did for me.”
Eunha’s eyes wander upwards to the stars, the same ones you’ve spent nearly every night under, listening to her talk about everything and nothing all at once. Tiny blips of light a billion miles away, the only witnesses to your midnight conversations about the mundanities of life. To them, your little exchange of words seems small and meaningless, but to you, these talks with her mean everything.
“I’ll make sure to pay you back one day,” Eunha utters.
There’s no need. Your existence is more than enough.
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In a past life, you used to curse how consistently time seems to move without regard for anything else. After one of the worst nights of your life, how dare the sun have the audacity to rise up in the morning like your whole world hasn’t just collapsed? The lights peaking through your blinds felt like a big “fuck you” from the world. Everyone struggles, get over yourself, you lazy prick. Before you realized it, the negativity took up every corner of your mind, constant noise rattling around your head every second of your existence, bleeding into the nights that seemed endless as you could do nothing but stare at the ceiling.
But nowadays, those thoughts seem so long ago, like a vague memory. Maybe it hasn’t gotten easier to sleep, but it’s quieter now. Peaceful, even. It barely even occurred to you how much time has passed since then until a certain coworker of yours decides to remind you.
“Happy birthday!” Eunha pops up from behind the counter, donning a dingy party hat and holding a cupcake with a single lit candle embedded in it.
“H-huh? W-what—”
“Make a wish!” She pushes the cupcake in your face, a potential fire hazard if your hair was just an inch longer. Confused by the sudden onslaught, all you can do is stand there like an idiot, eyes tracing over the silly hat adorning her rosy head. It’s cute though.
“It’s your birthday, right?” Eunha pouts, reading your confused expression. “Or did the calendar lie to me?”
You pause for a moment, running the numbers in your head as you try to remember how much time has passed. “Right,” you utter, not quite meeting her eyes. “Yeah, it’s my birthday.” Without another word, you grab a broom and begin sweeping as a couple approaches the store, hoping their impending presence will get your mind off the topic. With how life has been going these past few years, it’s getting harder and harder to find a reason to celebrate.
Was.
The gentle chime of the entrance rings throughout the store, yet Eunha’s cheerful greeting that usually follows is hauntingly absent, you nearly greet the customers yourself just to fill the unusual silence. Before you can check to see if she’s alright, you’re interrupted by a male voice.
“Hey, you know where the beers are?” the guy asks. You silently gesture towards the fridges, taking the opportunity to eye the couple. The girl seems generally unremarkable, not unlike the usual customer at this hour, but something about the guy feels oddly familiar, despite his face not matching anyone in your recent memory. Something about the way he drapes his arm carelessly over the girl like she’s an accessory rather than a person, or the way he doesn’t even bother to look through the tiny store for more than two seconds before asking for the answer just pisses you off.
“Thanks, pal,” he says, clapping your shoulder in a way that feels anything but friendly as he passes by. Out of all the expletives, middle fingers, and death threats that have been thrown your way by people far worse than this guy, none of them have managed to strike such an anger-inducing chord with you as that simple pat on your shoulder. But why?
You look over at the counter to check on Eunha, only to find a lone cupcake and a party hat peeking out from behind it. “Are you alright?” you ask, brows furrowed as you peer over the counter at her. All you receive in response is a panicked look and a harsh “Shhh!”.
“Hey pal, can you ring me— Eunha?” The two of them lock eyes in some weird staring contest, while you and his girlfriend or whoever she is are left completely out of the loop. You glance back and forth between them, trying to gain some semblance of understanding in their eyes for what feels like an eternity, until it finally clicks in your head.
The hint of familiarity despite never meeting him and the abundance of bad vibes he exudes all make sense — he’s Eunha’s ex-boyfriend.
You hastily scan his pack of beers and his box of condoms. “$20.55.”
“Why don’t you go wait outside for me, babe?” you hear him whisper to his new girl, unashamedly staring at her backside as she saunters out of the store. Eunha sighs, standing up from her hiding spot and leaving the party hat to dangle sadly in between her fingertips.
“So,” he continues, not even sparing you a single glance, “You’re still working in this shit hole?”
“Yup,” she replies, gaze glued to the floor. “Gotta pay rent somehow.”
He scoffs. “If you just come back to me—”
“I’m sorry, what the fuck?” You freeze at her sudden outburst, not used to this side of her. “Are you seriously asking me to come crawling back to you after everything you fucking did!?”
“Look, babe—”
“Don’t fucking ‘babe’ me, you asshole!” Her breath starts to get heavier as tears well up in her eyes and her fingers turn white around the dainty string of the party hat. “And don’t you have a new girlfriend anyway!? What the hell is wrong with you!?”
“What, you mean her?” His head flings back in a guttural laugh at the insinuation that he would find himself in a committed relationship with his “new girl”. Hell, if things weren’t so tense, you would be laughing at that idea too. “She’s just who I’m banging for tonight since you fucking left!”
“For fuck’s sake,” she groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just pay for your shit and leave. Please.”
He scoffs. “Quit being a fucking bitch and—”
“If you leave now, I’ll let you have everything for free,” you interject, each breath heavy and quivering with anger. For the first time since this whole altercation, he acknowledges your presence and simply scoffs, eyeing the two of you back and forth. With a smirk, he grabs his things off the counter and backs away, chuckling to himself like there’s some kind of inside joke that neither you nor Eunha are a part of. As the door chime rings to signal his exit, you hear the huff of a harsh syllable underneath his breath that turns the next few moments into a vague blur.
“Slut.”
You’ve never considered yourself to be particularly athletic—average at best, but still decent enough to not be picked last during childhood games. Yet, as you grab the cupcake from the counter and haphazardly chuck it through the air, you swear that Shohei Ohtani himself would’ve been impressed at the accuracy of your pitch as it arcs perfectly and splatters against the back of that asshole’s head. You freeze in disbelief of your own actions, barely registering the pink frosting-covered look of rage stomping towards you.
Eunha pulls you out of the doorway and quickly locks the door before pulling you into the break room, away from the view of the windows. Banging glass and muffled expletives are soon replaced by the monotonous whir of the fluorescents as she shuts the door behind her.
“Oh my god, are you insane?!” Eunha exclaims, trying and failing to suppress a grin.
“I-I, uh… I don’t know. Probably.” A breathy chuckle escapes your lips. And then another one. Soon, you’re keeling over the floor in laughter, replaying the impact of the cupcake over and over in your head.
A second chorus of laughter mixes with yours in a symphony of hysterics as Eunha joins you on the floor. Your head starts to ache and your stomach grows sore, but the first bout of genuine joy you feel after years of nothing but cold isolation overpowers any kind of pain.
Being here, in this moment with her, is the best birthday gift you’ve ever received.
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Even after the clock passes midnight and your birthday officially ends, Eunha still insists on doing something to celebrate. That sweet piece of payback against her ex was more than enough for you, but as always, it’s hard to say no when her eyes light up with so much excitement.
You wait in the solitude of your living room, with nothing but Yokai to pass the time. He purrs contently on your lap, being oddly well-behaved for once. Maybe he knows Eunha is coming and is in a better mood than usual. Are black cats telepathic?
As if on cue, he jumps off your lap and scurries towards the front door, a millisecond before a barrage of knocks and a muffled “Ayo!” sound off from the other side. It doesn’t take a genius to know who the owner of that voice is.
“Surprise!” Eunha exclaims, balancing a store-bought cake and a champagne bottle in her arms.
“I’m not sure if it counts as a surprise if I know that you’re coming,” you joke, taking the contents from her arms.
“Yeah yeah, whatever you say, birthday boy.” Yokai impatiently nuzzles his head against Eunha’s leg, practically begging for her attention. “Well, hello again, cutie! Did you miss me?”
He purrs in response to getting showered by Eunha’s affection. You place the cake on the dining table and peer curiously at the champagne bottle, only to find the words “Sparkling Apple Cider” written in fancy gold lettering.
“Apple Cider?” you question.
“Yeah,” Eunha responds. “Did you want actual champagne or…?”
“No no, this is great.” You flash her a reassuring grin, which she returns in kind, punctuated by the cute swell of her cheeks.
“Phew, I’m glad. I thought I read you wrong for a second.” She plops comfortably onto your couch like she’s been to your apartment a thousand times before, Yokai swiftly taking his place onto her lap. “So, what do you usually do for your birthday?”
“Nothing, really,” you sheepishly admit. “If it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have remembered it was today.”
“Whaaat? That’s no fun.”
“Yeah, well…”
You trail off as the ghosts of your past come back to haunt you. Each year, the faces around the table seemed to become fewer and fewer until it was just you and the cat. Eventually, you just stopped bothering with it. It’s just another day, indiscernible from every other one. Sure, you could go on about why no one bothered to contact you, but It’s not like you’re completely blameless—why didn’t you reach out? Every night spent with your eyes forcibly pried open, you basically had all the time in the world to one, single message to anyone. And yet, you didn’t.
It’s your fault alone that things ended up this way.
You feel a soft pair of hands suddenly wrap around yours, forcibly pulling you out of the black hole in your mind that threatened to envelop you.
“Why don’t we make this one extra special then?” Without waiting for you to answer, Eunha pulls you towards the kitchen and pushes you down into a chair.
“What are you doing?” you ask, confused yet charmed by her usual antics.
“Just wait a sec,” she says, rummaging through your cupboards like a mouse looking for cheese. You watch in amused silence as she searches through every nook and cranny for… whatever it is that she needs. You can’t quite wrap your head around why she’s going through all of this effort, in the dead of night, for you of all people. You’re just her coworker in a dingy little convenience store.
Although, it’s hard not to feel insanely lucky when she turns to you with that impossibly bright smile that only you get the luxury of seeing.
“Okay, here we go!” Eunha exclaims, taking the plastic lid off of the cake and fiddling with a single match.
You tilt your head curiously. “Is that a—”
“I forgot to get candles and this is all that you have, alright?” she playfully snaps at you. Finally, once the match is lit, she places it gingerly in the center of the cake. “Make a wish, birthday boy!”
As you gaze into the small, singular flame before you, it dawns on you that you have no idea what to wish for. Money? A bigger house? The ability to have a good night’s sleep? Blowing out a silly little candle isn’t going to magically change your life overnight, no matter what the occasion is.
But as you look past the flame, you see Eunha gleaming back at you, waiting with bated breath for you to make that wish. The passion, the excitement, the hope swirling around in just her eyes alone sends a wave of warmth throughout your body that seeps deep into the fibers of your bones. A wish finally forms inside of your head.
You blow out the match, extinguishing the flame and letting your wish float into the air along with the smoke.
“Woohoo!” Eunha cheers. “What did you wish for?”
Heat rushes to your cheeks as you suddenly feel sheepish under her gaze. “I-I, uh—”
“Wait, don’t tell me!” she frantically interjects. “I forgot, if you say your wish out loud, it won’t come true!”
A chuckle brushes past your lips. If there’s even a tiny chance that what she said is true, then you’ll gladly take a vow of silence just to keep your wish close to your heart.
Eunha cuts two generous slices of cakes for the both of you while you pour the sparkling cider into mismatched mugs - the only drinkware you have that even comes remotely close to fitting the occasion. Your apartment becomes enveloped in a comfortable silence, save for Yokai’s content purring on the couch and an occasional “Mmm” from Eunha in-between mouthfuls.
As you peer to the side, you notice a small glob of frosting on the corner of her lips. “You have a little something here,” you chuckle, gesturing to the area. She tries to wipe it off, but somehow completely misses the mark.
“No, it’s still there,” you say, unable to hold back a smirk at her failed attempt. Without thinking, you reach out and gently wipe the frosting from the corner of her mouth with your thumb. The soft warmth of her cheek sends a jolt through your body, and only then do you realize just how close you are. Her eyes widen slightly in surprise, but she doesn’t pull away. For a moment, time seems to stand still as you gaze into the deep obsidian of her irises, your thumb still lingering on her lips.
Eunha’s cheeks flush a rosy pink that mimics her hair, and you quickly retract your hand, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Um, got it,” you mutter, avoiding her gaze.
“Thanks,” she says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
The air between you feels charged, as if closing the distance even a little bit would shock you. You steal a glance at her and find her doing the same, quickly turning away after a mere whisper of eye contact. For that split second, you notice her eyes shimmering with an emotion that you can’t quite place. The silence stretches on, growing heavier with unspoken words.
Eunha breaks the tension first with a soft chuckle. “So, uh, how was your birthday? Sorry I couldn’t do much more than this.”
“N-no, it’s fine. I thought it was great, actually,” you admit, a small grin tugging at your lips.
“Yeah?” she says, beaming at you. “I’m glad.”
“Me too.”
She stands up and begins to gather her things. “I should probably head home now. It’s getting—well, I guess it’s already late.”
A pang of disappointment hits your chest. “Right.”
Each step feels like you’re wearing cinder blocks as you walk her to the front door. Yokai perks up from his spot at the couch, mimicking your own feelings of panic as Eunha nears the exit. Why are you acting like this? You’ll see her at work tomorrow. Despite your attempts at rationalizing, the growing urge to stop her is becoming harder and harder to ignore.
As she takes a step outside of your apartment, she turns to you. For a moment, she simply gazes into your eyes. You can’t quite read them—it’s hard when you’re too distracted by how unbelievably pretty they are—but it feels like she’s waiting. Waiting for you to say something, maybe? With the thumping of your heart growing louder in your ears, the ability to focus suddenly becomes an uphill battle.
“I, uh, I had fun tonight.”
You take a breath. “Y-yeah, me too.”
“I guess I’ll see you at work then?” Her voice lilts up, as if she’s asking a question. A loaded question, even. An answer sits on the tip of your tongue, desperately waiting to be heard by her ears. Just a couple words, and yet it feels like overlooking a cliff with no end in sight. A free fall into new, terrifying territory.
But, as you’ve learned time and time again, it’s hard saying no to that face.
“A-actually,” you begin, your voice almost getting caught in your throat, “it’s late and it might be unsafe tonight, so… I was wondering… do you want to stay the night?”
If you had more than just pure adrenaline pushing you forward, you could’ve probably used a better choice of words. Something smoother and less uncertain. Something more charming, as Eunha would put it. But all of these thoughts sink to the back of your mind when you’re suddenly attacked by the softest lips you’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Like muscle memory, your hands wrap around Eunha’s delicate waist, gently pushing her into the door until it shuts with an audible click.
All the second guessing, the worrying, the negativity, everything is completely thrown out the window as you sink into her lips. You let yourself get lost in her touch, pulling her close to you like she’s your matching puzzle piece. In the midst of needy touching and sharp breaths, a wave of calmness washes over you. Like all of this is meant to be.
“W-wait…” Eunha gently pushes you off of her, worry filling her expression.
“What’s wrong?” you ask. “Do you not want thi—”
“I do want this. I want you, more than you could ever imagine, but I just…” she sighs, her grip on your shoulders weakening slightly. “I really like working at the store and talking to you every night and feeling like my life isn’t a constant trainwreck. I need that consistency in my life. If we do this, no matter what happens tonight, I need you to promise me that nothing will change between us.”
She looks up at you with desperate, pleading eyes. You know, probably more than anyone, just how much pain she holds inside, invisible to the outside world. The two of you are alike in that way. The only difference is that she kept on trying to live despite her scars, while you stopped trying because of them.
“I’m not a perfect person by any means,” you start softly, gently caressing her cheek. “Before I met you, I felt like I was barely even human. I was just a body without a soul, wandering aimlessly. But then, you changed all that.”
Eunha sinks her face into your hand, peering at you with those damn eyes. You’ve seen them light up like fireworks during her highest highs and pour like a perilous storm during her lowest lows, but you’ve never once seen them completely empty, void of any emotion. For once, you feel hope that things can get better, and she is the living, breathing reason why.
“Whenever I’m with you, nights don’t feel as cold and the stars seem to shine brighter than I thought was possible,” you continue. “Breathing becomes easier and I laugh harder than I ever have before. Life doesn’t just become bearable—it becomes enjoyable. And that’s all because of you.”
As your words linger in the gap between lips, you feel the haze that clouded your mind for so long finally lift, making way for light to shine through. A pure, warming light with pink hair and porcelain skin and cheeks like puffed up marshmallows.
“I take back everything I said before,” Eunha says with a smirk. “That was the most charming thing I’ve ever heard.”
Before you even have time to roll your eyes, she’s kissing you again with a newfound passion. You’re quick to follow her lead, running your hands over the curves she’s been hiding underneath her work uniform and taking mental notes of the spots that produce a cute moan. Each sensation feels like a spark of lightning being shot through your veins, driving your every movement. You want—no, need to please this woman, show her exactly just how much she means to you.
With all the adrenaline in your system, you end up pinning Eunha against the front door with an audible thud. “Someone’s eager to get things going,” she teases, short-breathed and rosy-cheeked.
“How can I not be when you’re so—”
“MRRAAOOOUWWWW!!!” Yokai cries out, his yellow eyes full of judgement as he looks at your crude display of affection from the couch. Attention whore.
Eunha chuckles. “Maybe we should—”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
You take her hand and practically drag her to the privacy of your bedroom, her excited giggles trailing behind you. As soon as the door shuts behind you, Eunha is already laying on your bed, resting comfortably as if it were her own.
“Got room for one more?” you quip.
“If it’s you, definitely.”
With an easy smile, you make your way towards her, fingers grazing up her thighs to her toned stomach and around the sensuous curve of her bosom before resting right next to her head. The moonlight peaking through the window illuminates her eyes, allowing you to see the passion and the neediness aimed directly at you.
“You’re so beautif—mmf!“
Eunha suddenly claps her hand over your mouth. “Listen, you’re very cute, but I desperately need you to take my clothes off. Now please.”
You waste no more time, diving into the crook of her neck and producing a yelp from her throat as you pepper it with kisses. Excitedly, your hands slip under her shirt to massage her full breasts. You’d be lying if you said you never imagined it would be like to cup her breasts, but actually getting to feel them in your hand is a different sensation entirely. So soft yet so firm, and perfectly bouncy. By the noises she’s making, it’s safe to assume that she’s enjoying this just as much as you are.
Eunha reaches down and strokes the outline of your cock through your jeans, her movements fueled by a primal lust. “Oh my god, I can already tell you’re so much bigger than my ex. Please, I need you inside me right fucking now,” she begs, already fidgeting with your belt.
You chuckle, not used to her lovely voice spewing out such heinous demands. Whatever the princess wants, she’ll get.
Loose clothing begins to decorate your room while a symphony of pleasurable cries and wrinkling fabric accompanies the scene. Moonlight casts shadows on your walls, depicting the beautiful act of debauchery taking place. This room, which only harbors memories of dreadfully sleepless nights, becomes a haven for you and Eunha to begin something new and wonderful.
“Can’t believe I almost let Yuju have all of this for herself,” she giggles, eyeing your length as it nears her dripping sweetness.
You lean down to briefly take her lips in yours, running your hands over her now unclothed body, bare in all its glory. “I don’t wanna think about any woman other than you right now,” you say in a low, growly tone.
“Mmm, good answer.” Eunha abruptly wraps her legs around your waist. “Now fuck me, birthday boy.”
Your cock drags against her folds, lubricating it with her juices. You feel her shiver underneath you as you lightly graze against her clit. She’s so beautiful. Completely exposed and vulnerable, all for you. With a single movement of your hips, you enter her honeypot, the two of you sharing a moan as the tip slides in.
“Shit,” you groan, drawing in a heavy breath, “We forgot a condom—”
“We work at a convenience store, we can just get a Plan B tomorrow!!” Eunha snaps before donning an apologetic look. “Sorry, I just mean—”
You interrupt her with a peck on the lips, smirking at her. “I know what you meant. I’ll shut up now.”
Pure instinct takes over as you begin to buck your hips into her, years of pent up energy and the desire to make her feel loved fueling each thrust. The crescendo of her voice every time your bodies meet is a tune like no other, and you do everything in your power just to hear that noise again and again and again and again. Sink your fingers into the meaty flesh of her thighs, lap at her perky tits, pin her arms over her head so her only choice is to succumb to the overwhelming sensation of lust.
“Perfect” doesn’t even begin to properly describe Eunha. From her bubblegum optimism that managed to melt your cold heart to the velvety tightness of her pussy as she takes you in so fucking well, there aren’t enough words in existence to explain just how much she means to you. So instead, you do your best to deliver the message through every movement. The fire in your pelvis as you fuck her heat, the soreness of your tongue as you worship every inch of her body, everything you do is testament into making sure she knows just how much you mean to her.
Love her in a way that her ex could never do.
Love her until all the pain and suffering she went through is forgotten.
Love her the way you’ve been unknowingly aching for her since the moment you laid eyes on her. Repay her for all that she’s done just by existing.
“K-keep going! Just like that!” she groans, the grip of her pussy tightening with each second. You do as she says, fucking her at the pace that she likes and hitting every spot that produces that oh-so-pretty noise from her lips. With how amazing she feels, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the building feeling in the pit of your stomach.
“Eunha…”
She grabs your face, forcing you to look at hers. “Inside me, baby. Please. I need to feel you. I want to feel you.” She peers at you with those eyes, glimmering with the light of a full moon, and pleads for you to stay inside her. How silly. Why would you beg when I would give you the whole world at the drop of a hat?
In one final thrust, you climax in her arms, wave after wave of pleasure rushing through you. Eunha shoves her face into the crook of your neck, a guttural moan escaping her lips as she experiences her own orgasm. Months of working alongside her and getting to know her, culminating into a beautiful moment of release for the both of you—and this is only the beginning.
“H-holy… shit…” Eunha pants, tracing lazy circles on your shoulder. “That was… better than I could have ever imagined.”
“Are you saying you’ve imagined this before?” you tease.
“What, you think I’m gonna work with someone that’s as sweet and as awkwardly-cute as you and not occasionally think about fucking him?” she retorts with a smirk.
The both of you share a laugh in each other’s arms, bathed in the moonlight and sweat of passion. Before long, the exhaustion of today’s events gets to the both of you, and you feel your eyes grow heavier and heavier—a sensation you haven’t felt in a long time. A final kiss marks the beginning of many more nights to come. Nights where the shadows are still and the morning become a moment to look forward to.
