Summary: What do you get when demigods are sent to the mortal realm as punishment for wreaking havoc on Olympus? Chaos. And a whole lot of trouble the mundane world is probably not ready to face, ever.
Worse, what if you find out that monsters and vengeful titans are the least of your problems? When emotions rise and clash, you a demigod yourself, is forced to choose between your mortal side and the allure of the gods.
Characters: Half-blood reader, Mark as Son of Zeus, Haechan as son of Athena, Jaemin as Son of Aphrodite, Renjun as son of Ares. Yangyang + other NCT ensemble to be revealed throughout the story.
Prologue | CHAPTER 1 | Jeno Special Chapter | Jaemin Special Chapter
Tartarus. A primordial place of eternal damnation, the prison for monsters, creatures, and once powerful beings who have defied the powers of Olympus. For the modern mortals, it is a place that could be made equivalent to the concept of hell. People like you, however, were better informed.
Because Tartarus? It is so much worse.
You slammed your hands on the desk with a loud bang that echoed in the empty classroom. Outside, the noise of the greater student body sounded almost detached and distant. Your glare swept across the room, as hot as the sun’s rays that scaled inside the stuffy space.
Seated in front of you were five boys, trying their best in various degrees to avoid your eyes. You counted them off one by one in your head and matched faces with names—a practice you have come to adopt to calm yourself every time you were unfortunate enough to get wind of their latest bullshit.
Mark Lee, heir of Zeus, the God of all Gods.
Jeno Lee, son of Ares, Ruler of the Underworld.
Haechan Lee, offspring of Athena, Goddess of War and Wisdom.
Jaemin Na, child of Aphrodite, Goddess of Beauty and Love.
Renjun Huang, son of Ares, God of War.
A little over a month ago, these golden children were sent to Rosewood Academy as an act of punishment from their godly parents for an unspecified trick they’ve pulled in the land of honey and ambrosia. Now, the academy for all half-bloods is being evacuated and walled up because Tartarus, the last place in the cosmic universe that should open, is spitting out monsters to the mortal realm.
The door to the room opened, ushering Yangyang inside. He gave one quick look at the tensed up air in the room before sighing.
“Your father has started evacuations. Everyone’s panicked. It’s not a pretty sight out there, but the Headmaster has it under control… for now.”
Your jaw ticked. You leaned a little towards the table you were currently hovering over and glared openly at the other five in the room.
“I need all of you to tell me exactly what the hell is going on here,” you started slowly, threateningly. In front of you, Haechan made a motion as if he was about to say something. You quickly shot him a look that made him seal his lips again.
“AND don’t even try to play dumb. Your parents sent all of you here for a reason. Do you think everyone here is stupid? We know how much your lot looks down on us lower divinities. They wouldn’t be shipping you here to the mortal world for something small.”
For a while, nobody talked. You saw Renjun flick his gaze guiltily towards Mark who looked a little too pale beside him. Jeno’s face was blank and stormy at the same time. Jaemin, at the very least, looked genuinely guilty.
“Look… we,” he paused and glanced quickly at the rest. “We didn’t mean it. It was an accident.”
“Elaborate. Because I cannot see how an accident can rip open Tartarus of all places.”
He sighed and leaned back against his seat. “I really shouldn’t be the one to share this,” he said tiredly before throwing a quick, dirty look towards the others who seemed set on keeping their lips sealed. “But a month ago, the five of us were supposed to complete a final challenge to pass our Coming of Age Rites. It was the last step before we can be considered worthy to participate in higher level affairs in Olympus.”
You listened silently. Unlike the half-children of lower divinities like you who were schooled and trained until adulthood in Rosewood Academy, chosen children of the Pantheon were raised following a different set of rules in Olympus. Nobody in the mortal realm were really privy of what the process entails, but you have heard rumors of a last test—a ceremonial rite that marks their official elevation to higher status and influence in Elysium.
“Well, we wanted to pull off something that was different from the rest. Slaying monstrous creatures and securing a golden fleece—all of those have been done and won. So we decided to present the court something different, something nobody would have thought would be possible, not even Zeus himself.”
“We went to look for the Sickle of Cronus.”
Jaemin’s words sounded heavy as they echoed in the room. His last words were so out there that even your brain was rejecting what it means. You stared, shell-shocked at him. A part of you wished you heard it wrong, that this is just another one of their sick pranks, but as you looked over them and caught sight of their gray, ashen faces, you knew your hope was in vain. You paled.
Cronus was the leader of all Titans, and Zeus' own father, who ruled the universe before the Olympians overthrew them. His sickle was a harpe-like weapon that he wielded himself during the war of the gods. It was said to have been forged by Gaea herself—his mother—and tempered in the River of the Night. The weapon was believed to have been lost after his downfall, after which he had been locked up in Tartarus.
To put it simply, the sickle is one of the last things in the known universe that could mean good news for everyone.
“But nobody knows where it is,” Yangyang asked. He sounded as equally dumbfounded as you are. “It’s said that Zeus—”
“Shattered it to pieces after he defeated his own father,” this time, it was Mark who finally spoke. You all turned to him blindly. There was a storm in his face that, for the first time, made you really realize that he is the son of Olympus’ highest ruler. “It was broken and splintered, yes, but not ultimately lost. We… made it our mission to find its pieces. Put it back together.”
“And we did. To some extent,” Haechan continued. Now that the story is coming together, everyone seemed ready to talk, albeit with difficulty. “The pieces were scattered all across the world. It was difficult, but we were able to trace enough of its broken parts.”
“And you were able to forge it back together?” You asked, confused.
A deathly stillness settled over the five again. Renjun cleared his throat and decided to answer.
“We didn’t have enough pieces to put it back together into its proper form, but that was the plan. We didn’t get the chance.”
“What do you mean you didn’t get the chance?”
The boys exchanged looks. There was a heavy sinking feeling that has started gathering in the pit of your stomach.
“The sickle’s pieces. They were stolen from us.”
Jeno might as well have screamed his answer the way you flinched. Across from you, Yangyang had gone very white. He was staring at the other boys in horror, as if he was seeing them for the first time.
“Heavens. What have you done?”
Nobody answered. No words were needed because for half-bloods like you and them, you know what this means.
Cronus’ sickle is one of the very few metaphysical things that can be considered at par with the weapons of the greater three–Zeus’ thunderbolt, Poseidon’s trident, and Hades’ Helm. When the Great Titan Gaea fashioned it, lore said that she used adamant, a mythical metal that can neither be broken nor altered. When crafted as a weapon, it can hurt even the gods. In fact, it was the very same weapon that Cronus used to overthrow his own father Uranus before the Olympians were even born. The power of this weapon was the reason why Zeus made sure to destroy it after Cronus was defeated–it was a symbolic act as much as it is a cautionary one.
But that was not the main problem. Because before Zeus rose to power, he made sure that the defeated Titans were bound to Tartarus by the same material. Now, the same adamantine chains that held the fortress and the subdued powers within it are slowly unravelling. All because five overly proud demigods decided they wanted the highest of glory and provided the key to whoever traitor stole it.
“Do you have the slightest idea as to who might have stolen it?” Yangyang was the first one to break the silence.
“No,” Mark answered grimly. “We were trying to get to the bottom of it, but we were sent here before we could do anything else.”
“Whoever took it is surely starting to move though. If Tartarus is slowly cracking open, it means they have figured out a way to use it,” Haechan added.
You straightened up from the table at this, shaken up once more into focus.
“How much of the sickle’s pieces were you actually able to get?” you asked sharply.
“Uh… about… sixty percent of it.”
“So it’s still not enough to totally break the adamantine chains.”
Yangyang nodded. “That’s why the walls haven’t entirely collapsed yet. Whoever is using it was only able to make enough cracks to let lower creatures out.”
“Do you have any idea where the rest of the missing pieces might be?”
Haechan looked doubtful. “No, but we were able to find the rest. With some digging around it’s possible–”
You didn’t wait for him to finish. Standing up from the desk again, you leaned a little towards him before making sure to look at each of the other boys’ faces.
“Good. Even the smallest of possibilities is enough. Now you have to fix this.”
All of them looked at you, confused at first. The look on their faces made white, hot anger rush to your veins again.
“Don’t make me say it again. Listen to what’s happening around you,” you hissed and jerked your head towards the door where the sound from the rest of the school was still filtering in.
“You had the idiotic, selfish idea to make this trouble and now who is paying? Rosewood Academy is the sole place where half-bloods like us can feel safe. That’s not even the biggest problem. For centuries the world was balanced enough for mortals and people like us to live in peace and now monsters are crawling all around the place. I don’t care if this wasn’t part of your plan or if it is an accident. All of you are going to take responsibility.”
“What do you want us to do?” Jeno asked calmly. You set your eyes on him steadily.
“You’re going to look for the other missing pieces of the sickle. Whoever might have stolen it must have realized by now that they can’t use it to its full potential if it’s incomplete. You have better chances of getting to the missing ones than actually catching up to the thief at this point.”
The other four looked at each other. You continued, your words punctuated.
“The enemy has probably started moving now to look for it themselves. So here’s what you are going to do, you are going to tell your parents that you are not going back to Olympus. You’re going to tell them that all of you are staying here to fix your shit. Then you’re going to hunt down the last pieces of the sickle–and none of you are going to stop until you find every single shard of it.”
Mark looked like he wanted to say something. You glared in challenge at him. Finally, he sighed.
“Okay. I will… We will talk to them.”
You straightened up and took a deep breath.
“If I find any of you missing from Rosewood tonight, I will make sure to hunt every single one of you, even if I have to crawl my way up to Olympus, myself.”
******
You paced back and forth in front of the heavy wooden door of your father’s office like a broken automaton. It was already evening and the moon was high in the sky playing hide and seek with the clouds. Every now and then, a sliver of light would pierce the darkened hall before plunging you into near darkness again. With most of the student body gone, the halls of Rosewood were silent and hollow, with only your footsteps disturbing the deathly silence.
Mark, at the very least, kept his promise. After the majority of the school had evacuated, he asked for an audience with your father. He was the only one that was ushered into the room as far as you know, something that didn’t really come as a surprise for you. In the weeks that he and his friends have been at Rosewood, it became pretty clear to everyone how their tight group works. Mark was the one who acts as the leader of the bunch, so if anyone should talk to your Headmaster, it will definitely be him.
It’s been three hours since that talk started. You know because you’ve been counting each minute that passed in your head. If your eyes were lasers, holes would have been burned cleanly off that thick door by now with how much you’ve been glancing at it.
Finally, just as you were about to complete another loop in your incessant pacing, you heard the sharp creak of rusted hinges working. With a move that almost gave you whiplash, you turned and half-ran half-rushed to wait for the door to fully open. Light spilled on the cobbled floor of the Academy as it did, yellow and almost too glaring for your eyes.
The first one out was Mark. He looked calm, but there was a certain angle to the set of his lips that made your thoat constrict. Your gaze went over him quickly before wandering towards your father. As usual, the man looked collected, but that didn’t give you any reprieve. The universe might be combusting right now and he would still remain his placid self.
“Papa.”
He smiled at you placatingly as he and Mark stepped into the hallway to join you.
“Hello, Princess. I’m so glad it was you pacing outside. I thought for a while there that the satyrs had also come for a visit.”
You didn’t smile. You couldn’t afford it. Your gaze slipped to Mark momentarily, but for some reason the boy looked set on avoiding your eyes. The heaviness in your gut was turning worse by the second.
“Did you two talk? Did he—”
“Tell me the whole story? Oh yes. He did. It was a very interesting one indeed. I have to say though, Lady Athena was not as thrilled about it as I was. It made for quite an amusing conversation earlier.”
Your jaw dropped. They actually talked to Athena? If the Goddess of Warfare herself was involved, then that must only mean that the situation has only escalated. A thousand questions started fighting their way in your head and you blurted out the first one without even realizing it.
“What—what’s going to happen now?”
Your father paused before calmly weaving his hands together behind his back. He seemed to be collecting himself and choosing his next words carefully. Beside him, Mark looked almost ill with guilt.
“The Pantheon has decided to keep the boys here. Mark has willingly offered to continue the search of the missing sickle’s pieces and their parents believe that this is a fitting course of action. The search starts tomorrow. And I will be coming with them.”
For a moment, as you listened to your father, you actually thought things were going the way it should be. The feeling of relief, however, was momentary. You blinked at him now, wondering if you heard what he said last correctly.
“What?”
The headmaster looked at you patiently, untroubled as usual.
“I was appointed to guide them during the search. The journey is expected to be challenging and they will be needing someone to escort them. Someone well-versed with the mortal realm. I have gladly accepted the order from the Pantheon.”
A chill had settled over you like an invisible cloak thrown over your head. It made you feel heavy, your knees almost buckling under its weight. Your eyes did not leave your father’s and his remained steady against yours, but now you are hyperaware of Mark’s presence a hundred times more. You didn’t look at each other, but the message between you was clear.
Why my dad?
I’m sorry.
This is all your fault. Every single one of you.
“Why,” you delivered that question so hollow it sounded like a statement. “Why did it have to be you?”
For a slip of a moment, your father’s facade actually cracked. It was gone too soon though and left in its place was the usual expression that, in other situations would have made you calm down. Seeing it set now on his features, however, made you want to rip your hair from its roots.
“Because I am a vested representative for the gods here in our realm, my love. This, while an unusual situation, is a part of my duties. It is an honor to be able to fulfill this role.”
“That honor is not going to do us anything good if you come back a cold corpse.”
You didn’t mean to sound too venomous, but even the aftershock of your own words were not enough to make you feel guilty for blurting them out. What hurt even more, however, was how your father looked. There wasn’t a trace of hurt, worry, or even admonition for you. Only a look of resignation that made you want to hurl your guts. You had to tear your eyes away from him just so you could blink away the tears that were edging there.
This at least, must have softened him a little because the next thing that you felt was him gently taking both your hands in his. You stared at them, your small ones cradled now by his big warm ones. No matter how much you’ve grown, you will always marvel at the gentleness of how he held you. Your sweet, good, very mortal father. The only family you have left, and probably will ever have.
“I understand why you feel this way. How about you take a rest for now?” He suggested as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Let’s talk about it more again tomorrow. Clear all our heads first, have a bit of sleep. It’s been a long day,” he paused before slightly turning to the other boy whose presence you have forgotten by now. “You too, Mark. Maybe you can talk to the others tomorrow.”
You didn’t argue. Instead, you let yourself be held by him for a moment more before you pulled your hand from his and walking away wordlessly. You can’t even bear to think about tomorrow. Not when it could be the very same day that you lose the one person who was keeping you tethered into this world.
*******
You gave one last look at your reflection in the mirror before you threw the white sheet over it. Looking around the room, you made one last check to make sure that you have everything you are leaving in order, and everything you might need packed and parceled.
Resting on the foot of your bed is a simple brown leather backpack. It is inconspicuous enough to pass off as a regular school bag, but also sturdy enough for the elements. Tucked on one of its pockets, hidden from sight, is a glittering hand blade made of silver, sheathed in the same leather material as the knapsack.
Your hands unconsciously fiddled over the zipper of your coat now before you wrapped it just a little bit tighter around yourself. Then, without another word, you hauled your bag over your shoulders and padded your way to the door. The lock catching as you closed it sounded like the tolling of the bell—ominous and heavy. You ignored it and continued walking away from the safety of your room, and everything you will ever know without even a glance back.
You found his door at the far north of the Academy, tucked at the end of the hallway. The truth is that you have absolutely no solid plans for what you were about to do tonight, but then again, you were also not in the position to waste hours just perfecting a whole strategy in your head. Right now, there are only two things that you know you absolutely have to go through as you planted your booted feet in front of his room. Step one, knock. Step two, get the hell out of Rosewood Academy.
You rapped on the aged wood in front of you three times with a sharpness that you hoped is loud enough to wake anyone from slumber. What you weren't expecting, however, is the door opening almost in an instant. Instead of the darkness you were expecting, light spilled into the hallway where you were currently standing. Voices from inside the room stopped, only for a closer one to greet you at the entrance.
“What took you so long? We’ve almost missed—”
You stared at a stressed-looking Haechan as he threw the door wider. From the dumbstruck way he stopped and gawked at you, it was obvious that you weren’t the one he was expecting as well. If the situation wasn’t so serious, you would have found it almost comical how the two of you glanced at the same time at the name plate by the wall.
Mark Lee.
“What are you doing?”
“Why are you here?”
You both spoke at the same time. You have barely asked the question out when the actual Mark Lee turned up on his side after probably wondering what was happening.
“Is that Renjun? Let him in—”
The words died in his throat as he also froze on his spot to stare at you in shock. A couple of dead, heavy seconds passed before things started falling into place in your head. Narrowing your eyes, you pushed both boys inside the room unceremoniously before closing the door behind you with a slam.
“What the hell are you guys trying to do?” you hissed at both now as the three of you stumbled inside. Quickly, your gaze went over the pair and then to the rest of the room. It looked like a tornado had gone over the quarters with how messy it was–blankets thrown and pillows skewed. Bags, three of them, were resting against the wall just by the door. When you turned to look at the two again, you noticed they were both dressed for the outdoors. Your stomach dropped.
You were moving before you even realized what you were doing.
“You! Are you trying to escape?!” you spat out as you pushed Mark by the chest, causing him to stumble back to the wall. The boy looked surprised as he threw a hand to keep himself balanced. Without wasting another breath, you grabbed the front of his jacket into fists. He was towering over you, but you didn’t care.
“I knew it! I never should have trusted you! You cowards—”
“Hey! Stop that! God, you crazy girl. What do you think you’re doing?!” Haechan rushed to you both, eyes looking ready to pop off from his head. You didn’t mind him. Mark, meanwhile, didn’t try to fight back.
“Is it not enough that you caused this trouble and had my father looped into your shit? Now you’re all going to escape without even taking responsibility. I should have known better than to think you actually have balls to—”
“We are leaving tonight without him.”
You stopped as he said those words calmly in the middle of your tirade. Hands still grabbing the front of his coat, you stared at him, processing his words.
“What?”
“We are leaving without your father, lady. Not escaping. Do you really think our parents would welcome us back to Olympus with open arms even if we begged?” Haechan was the one who elaborated while you and Mark were still having a stare off. “Mark-hyung here suggested that we leave earlier, leave the Headmaster behind,” he rattled on before suddenly stopping to stare at you. “Wait—why are YOU dressed up too? And why are you here?”
At that question, you had no other choice but to let the other boy go. You stepped back a little but didn’t answer. Beside you, Haechan’s eyes widened in realization.
“You were going to take his place.”
You glared at him. Mark was staring at you quietly before finally looking away.
“We are just waiting for Renjun. You can go back to sleep and forget all of this happened. You can tell the Headmaster in the morning that we left with no word,” he said, turning around to get his bag. You watched him quietly as a despicable emotion started crawling up your throat. It had the irritating taste of guilt. At the same time, the cogs in your head were working, stumbling over each other. There is relief that your father will be spared from all these, but something was still making you feel off. Before you could even put your finger on it, the door opened again and ushered a breathless-looking Renjun inside. He was tucking something inside the pocket of his jacket but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you.
“I got it, the map. We can leave—what the hell are you doing here?”
You snapped your attention to him. Then, without thinking it over, blurted out the last thing you were expecting.
“I’m coming with you.”
Now, Mark and Haechan also froze in the middle of fixing their bags. You felt their stares at you, heavy and incredulous.
“What?”
You turned to face all of them, expression set.
“I’m coming with you. Don’t make me say it again.”
“Princess, you coming with us kinda defeats the purpose of us sneaking out in the middle of the night to spare your father, you know.”
“And do you think sparing my father protects him from what your parents might do to him if they find out what you’ve done?”
You challenged Haechan back, unblinking. None of the boys answered, of course. Because if there is someone who knows how fickle the gods can be, it would be them. How many times have mortals been caught in the cross-fire, punished and banished for things that they didn’t really have any fault in doing? How can you be sure that the head honchos above won’t put your father through the ringer for not chaperoning their heirs? No, you’re not taking the risk. If you go with them in your father's place, they can't accuse him of shirking away from his duties.
“Hyung, what do you think?” Renjun asked the eldest, still looking unsure. Once again, you turned towards Mark and stubbornly met his gaze. He was also staring at you with an incomprehensible look on his face. Then, he looked away.
“Let her. It’s not like we can do anything about it.”
You watched as he secured his bag on his shoulder and made his way towards the door. He did not spare you another glance when he passed and Haechan and Renjun followed him quietly, exchanging quiet looks between you and him.
You took a moment to follow their retreating backs. Throwing one last look behind you, you took in the stone walls of Rosewood, quiet and old. For its students, it was the school that raised them, but in that moment, as you stood in the middle of its silence, you became painfully aware of how much its hallowed halls meant to you. It was your home. The only one you and your father have ever known for years.
And now you’re leaving it for the first time, but only with the hopes of saving it.
You turned quietly and didn’t look back.
*******
The night was misty and cold when you finally stepped out to the school grounds. Weaving through the darkness, the four of you trudged through the stone steps of the entrance and made your way into the grassy borders of the Academy where the edge of the forest is. Just when you thought you were about to actually cross the edge, Mark and the others started slowing down.
You heard it first before you saw it. A low, humming rumble that travelled into the soft grass and vibrated up to your feet. Squinting into the darkness, you started making out a large profile of a car, its hulk barely distinguishable from the shadows. As your group approached, a black Cadillac finally emerged into clear view, sleek, expensive, and with its lights still off. You gawked at it momentarily before its front doors opened.
Jaemin stepped outside first, his expression mildly surprised but more amused when he saw you. Jeno followed from the driver’s seat. He looked at you, then at Mark in silent question.
“Angel, what a pleasant surprise. You’re coming with us?”
You threw a quick glance at Mark in time to catch a small nod that he gave to Jeno. Another thing that you noticed when it comes to the group dynamics is the relationship between the two. While Mark acts as the leader, Jeno seems to be the ‘second-in-command’ for lack of a better word. It makes sense if you think about it, with the two being the direct heirs of two from the Big Three.
You shrugged.
“I guess.”
“Well, that makes you the second uninvited guest then. I must say though, I prefer your addition much better.”
You frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Before Jaemin could even answer, the door to the back of the car opened. Your eyes rounded when you saw who jumped out of it.
“Yangyang?”
Your best friend gave you a casual nod before crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t look surprised at all to see you.
“Why are you here?”
“I’ll raise you a better question, Nugget. Were you really planning to go without even telling me?”
You opened your mouth to explain, then closed it again. He continued looking at you as if you’ve done him the biggest offense of his life.
“Well, this is us then. We better leave now before the sun rises,” Haechan said, already making his way towards the car. “Y’all better not complain about how cramped we are here, okay. We weren't expecting more."
“Where’d you get the ride anyway?” Renjun asked, already climbing after him.
“Jeno, of course. He had to call one of his many networks here. Looks sweet, right? I heard this one's only for the rich ones here,” Jaemin answered. He went over to the back, leaving Mark to ride shotgun at front. You and Yangyang exchanged quick glances before finally following inside hesitantly. You found yourself squeezed in between Haechan and Jaemin at the last row of seats with Yangyang sidling up beside Renjun.
“Doesn’t matter. We won’t be using it for too long,” Mark said as he slammed his door shut. “Renjun, do you have the map?”
On the seat in front of you, Renjun pulled over the piece of yellowish looking paper that he was stuffing inside of his jacket earlier. You leaned over and peered at its contents over his shoulder. The map was filled with ancient looking scrawlings with lines and grids that don't seem to make sense.
“Can you read that?” you asked now, squinting at it. Renjun shrugged.
“No. I don’t need to though. This map will only be useful once we get there.”
cw. soft dom!lyy he's big and the cutest est secret relationship age gap kinda public sex and unprotected 💔 ft. 威神V hendery 보이넥스트도어 riwoo, leehan mdni.
𝓪n. first fic on here heh pls care....., THIS yangie so divine i js had to write on him... (sfw) every support v much appreciated !!
that day we were to perform at a festival, specifically kcon, nothing out of the ordinary, right. but there was a little reason why i particularly looked forward to the show, or honestly, the sequence of it. just a tiny detail that made the whole thing more exciting. sighs — everyone knows what you’re about to say anyway. i was to see my yangyang again.
when we entered the stage, lights flashed in everyone’s eyes and i think yangyang was already gone by now, practicing his little mc speech for the night. it actually was his first time seizing this opportunity and he wanted to do his best, as he always was, being even a bit too hard on himself about this simple task.
i looked over at the audience, waving lightsticks and welcoming us — i believe some could faint from the amount of people and the hot atmosphere, but we were used to this. not like i found it normal either though, the concept of being famous and known, nauseating whatsoever.
we greeted the fans and made some cutesy poses, elevated by wearing that outfit — lace corset top, the tiniest puffy skirt you could find, and lots of jpop like accessories — ribbons, frills, fur leg warmers, rhinestones. everything angelic white with metallic touches of the jewelry and glitter lining. and how to dance in all that, you could ask. it looked cuter.
after a while of goofing around and doing some random dances, during half of which i just stood there prettily pretending to know the choreography, i noticed the growing commotion of the idols in the venue around us. probably some group photo time no one cared about. we ran over to the other end of the stage, making space for other groups, and wayv.
i found yangie in the crowd easily, like i was bound to him. and there he was, looking breathtaking as ever. just how handsome he was, how his dark hair complimented his honey-coloured skin, how ridiculously good his body looked in the outfit. he smiled at me politely for a brief moment, as if we were nothing more than people in the same industry. but i knew he wanted more, we both wanted more, just not yet.
he quickly turned away to not cause a scene and whispered something to standing nearby hendery, either the sweetest or naughtiest comment about me. but he always knew all too well how he pushed me to the edge, doing basically nothing, and how obsessed i was for him, even if i couldn't show it, he knew it. the way my knees would always weaken around him and my lips unable to not form into the warmest smile. damn him.
seeing him among fellow idols felt like in some romance drama, the story my destiny has written for me. sometimes things really align perfectly, huh. we were led backstage by the staff, as the first performances started and we were set to be the last for the day's show. i sat back on the couch in the waiting room with my members, absentmindedly watching ‘drama’ by aespa on the tv hung up on the wall. my mind was too filled with the lingering memory of the eye contact to even focus on anything else. suddenly, i felt my phone buzzing when i saw the notification, and from no one other than my one and only.
🐑💬 . . . “heyyyy”
🐑💬 . . . “i’m getting bored”
🐑💬 . . . “and missing you”
🐑💬 . . . “just hang on til wayv perform okay?”
🐑💬 . . . “and watch closely, i have something for u and just for u”
so i replied.
“hi u look gorgeous btw”
“i want to see u though . . .”
we kept texting the usual sweet nothings, until he was called to start preparing for their performance. until i was watching him on the screen absolutely mesmerized, with his hair styled on the side, shirt with only one sleeve, in his idol mode. then he did that — during ‘poppin' love’ when the camera panned close to him, yangyang smirked and winked in his usual seductive manner whenever on the stage. maybe it wasn't all he had for me in the store for that day?
but, fuck, the way he touched himself, the way his arm muscles twitched with his every movement, the way he bit his lip and his perfect face broke into that charming smile, as he knew all too well he had me all worked up in that tiny room. i literally had to look down in embarrassment and return to practicing my own dancing with a loserish grin. i could already hear my group members’ teasing and giggles, as if this would help my mental and physical state in any way. i was getting dizzy at the thought of having to perform myself later on as well.
and after wayv’s stage ended, a new message, of course.
🐑💬 . . . “i’m in some room number eleven”
🐑💬 . . . “idk u gotta find out where's that”
🐑💬 . . . “but hurry up please??”
“omw”
with a heavy sigh, i excused myself to the toilet, though everyone else present was most likely to know the real intentions, but well. after few minutes of nervously pacing around the back stage of the venue and bowing down to the oblivious staff members passing by, i found the eleven written on the door and entered the seemingly a storage room, already all shaky, and needy for him.
“ohh, there we are.” murmured in his sing-song voice yangyang and rushed up to hug me tightly, not even his sweat could stop me from practically melting into his body to feel more at peace. we haven’t seen each other at events often, not at all until then honestly, so it was a new, thrilling yet scary experience. way too risky to let yourself spend such intimate time with your lover, yet too tempting when he was looking just like that.
he quickly locked the door with the key, and i didn’t have the mind to question anything further, his presence itself overwhelming me. “i missed you, baobei.” he nuzzled his face into my hair and we stayed like that for a while. he held me by the waist to carefully pull us down on the small couch in the corner and make me straddle his legs and sit on his lap. i wanted to keep it nice and innocent at first, but i knew he has been way too horny recently to miss out on the opportunity. there was just no way out of this.
“my gorgeous boy…you were amazing, truly. you always do this great, even if you worry too much. i love you.” i was whispering my gentle words of praise into his forehead as i kissed him and ran my hand through his hair. he was still panting and visibly getting harder by every minute now so he only nodded and looked at me kindly. but he couldn't let himself cum just from that. “you look like a doll, you know? so beautiful… makes me wanna do things to you.”
soon enough i felt his bulge pressing between my thighs as he got a little more comfortable, not being able to control himself anymore. “y-yangie, fuck, here…? i have yet to…-”
he put his finger on my lip gloss coated lips and spoke in calm, composed tone as if he had it all planned beforehand. “no, baby, it's alright, trust me, we are safe here, yeah?” and he always had his way to convince me. “just have to keep quiet, alright? please.”
with that he lightly pushed me off him so i was laying on my back, looking up at him with shiny eyes, while he got up, unzipped his pants and tugged them down along with his boxers to reveal his thick, stiffened cock, all pulsating and ready to make a mess inside of me. we had to rush for sure, so not wasting his time yangyang offered generous help. “don’t be scared, love, i’ll do it for you.” he whispered and lifted up my skirt, pulling both my safety shorts and panties aside and immediately shoved his length inside my already soaked, throbbing cunt.
“fuck, you all wet like this just from seeing me, huh?”, he chuckled in amusement and settled into my entrance, pressing his whole weight against my body, while my hands rested on the back of his head, gently stroking his hair. “my poor little thing… just wanna make you feel good.” no foreplay, no preparation, no nothing. and he had to stretch me quickly, because despite his pretty face and sweet ways, he was not the one to play with in bed, or on this couch. that was actually the most attractive of him.
“p-please… don’t make me moan… yan-”, was the only thing i managed to yelp, before i could feel him dragging his shaft all along my walls, deep down in my stomach, but not like he could help his size, right?
“well…, not like i even have to try on my own, so you just gotta behave yourself, pretty girl.”
getting needier by every second, yangyang quickened his pace, slamming his dick against my swollen clit, until i couldn't hold it back anymore. i knew better for my own good that i should've stayed silent but, god, it was quite literally impossible to not let out a sound when he was doing wonders to my femininity.
“too deep, yang, i c-can’t… nnghh!” i cried out, burying my face in his neck. “shhh, baby i have told you- fuckkk”, he groaned and covered my mouth with his hand, still in the gloves from his stage outfit, so that my little whines and whimpers were, or he hoped so, barely audible. “mmphm… but… yangie…!” i dug my nails with white stars and bows on them into his clothed back, hoping it didn't cause too much pain. “just take me like the good girl you are, will you?” and an affectionate kiss on the forehead for mental support.
i was squirming beneath his touch, with my breast practically slipping out of the tight top, but yangyang didn't care about it in the first place now. all he needed was to cum. he thrusted in and out of me, panting heavily and brushing away his hair, with all the accumulated sex drive from the performance, kissing me lazily over my face as i felt myself clenching around his cock to the point i had to slightly free myself from his grip and gasp for air. i was so fucked out i could just blankly stare at his glistening with sweat bicep and try not to drool on his palm. “don’t do this, sweetie. look up at me.”
he leaned down to capture our lips in a desperate, sloppy kiss, just to have me focus on anything else than moaning into his hand. i wrapped my legs around his waist, riding up his crop top to reveal his hardened abs. i knew i needed a night with him in more comfortable circumstances, after all.
“i’m close, cumming inside you” he simply informed, not wanting to stain my outfit of course, but all i could comprehend were the squelching sounds of his slamming, this time a little too loud for my liking. “...alright? gotta use your words, jagiya.” he squeezed my thigh tighter, to get a reaction. “yes… please, yangyang… inside.”
and it was all he needed to know. “going to have you all filled up and warm” he said in his usual soft voice one last time, before his seed spilled all inside of my tightening walls and he pulled out of my pussy, with cum dripping all over his tip.
“ooh fuck, this was, well”, he ran his hand through his disheveled hair and quickly regained his composure, stuffing his softened dick inside his boxers, and helping me with adjusting my own outfit. it has been a while — about half an hour, so he had to reduce his normally long and tender aftercare to just a few kisses.
“you sure you're alright? you look dizzy, baby, don't want you to pass out on stage.” he started, his tone laced with a bit of concern. yangyang handed me a random bottle of water, holding it for me as i drank and was getting myself back to the reality. just like the caring boyfriend he was. “it’s okay, i just… i don't want to leave you. i’ll miss you, yangyangie.” i pouted and his features softened, him hugging me close for the last time.
“i’ll see you soon, don’t worry about it, alright? we are starting recordings soon, but for a few next days i’m free, if you are too.” i nodded and kept caressing his bare skin and kissing him all over his perfect features, until it got him all giggly and i had to leave for my performance. “you're my angel… take care, sweetheart. i’m with you, always.”
that's all that was left to him by his baby — lingering feeling of soft touch on his skin, most loving of the words, and his needs fulfilled, at least for now. and when he was just walking down the hall to get out of this damn place, he suddenly heard his name being shouted. hendery. the older man rushed over to yangyang and almost crashed into him, announcing with stupid excitement.
“yo, had fun with your girl? we have been looking for you, two boys wanted to do a tiktok with us. come on, you must have some spare energy, huh?” he teased shamelessly and not waiting for the maknae’s reply dragged him along outside to the said two boys — exactly riwoo and leehan of boynextdoor. they bowed down politely and greeted the wayv members but couldn't hide their giggles.
“uh… what’s so funny, guys?” asked yangyang, the sudden realization of what people could have heard from his encounter hitting him now, but he tried his best to keep an oblivious attitude. “oh, yangyang-nim haven't heard any… wet sounds…?” riwoo burst into laughter, while leehan just quietly chuckled under his breath. liu felt his palms sweating, when suddenly hendery interrupted and nudged his shoulder, a little too hard.
“ah, i guess some staff members were just feeling themselves, it’s quite hot in here, many people… needed to unwind.” yangyang only nodded and played along, but inside he felt like he could die from embarrassment. younger idols looked at each other smirking knowingly, but not pushing the topic further, they all filmed a trending dance challenge and bid farewell.
“you're not a vibe, bro. you weren't exactly subtle, you know.”
“go fuck yourself, at least i’m not gooning to anime figurines like you.”
yangyang seems like someone who has a lot of love to give. if anything, HE would be the clingy one in the relationship. yangyang would constantly be tackling you to the ground to try to tickle you or smother your face with kisses. he needs someone who can return his level of affection!!
xiaojun would absolutely bask in your affection, he LOVES all of the attention you give him and is very proud of it. he lowkey shows you off too. xiaojun wouldn't hesitate to kiss your hand in front of the others but the moment you do anything to him he gets all blushy.
ten is always seen hugging literally everyone in nct so i feel like he would love having a s/o that returns the affection. it gets him all smug and cocky. you would just be holding onto his arm and he'd be all like "damn if you want me just say so 😂😂😂"
hendery strikes me as someone who adores having a clingy s/o but doesn't want to admit it. he tries to act normal about it for the sake of his heart (palpitations go brrr). but when you randomly steal a kiss from him out of nowhere, he can't help but freeze and awkwardly stand there with his hands stiffly by his side LMAO
kun doesn't really mind it, doesn't really care for it either. if you're more touchy, he'll reciprocate the action. if you're not, that's totally okay, he'll find other ways to show his love for you, like cooking for you. overall, kun just likes how you rely on him because he enjoys taking on that role of responsibility.
winwin doesn't seem like he would be big fan of having an overly affectionate s/o ngl. you try to hug him for more than 5 seconds? winwin lowkey pushes you away from him 💀 it's not that he doesn't like you!!! he just needs his own space and prefers to show affection differently.
synopsis.yangyang is born to be a star, the kind of talent that lights up the screen. you, on the other hand, is a nepo baby who everyone believed got the lead role because of your family’s influence. he fought all these years to be the man that he is while you are still busy proving yourself to the populace. you believe you’re more than just your parents. he believes he’s less than without his fans. when your lives become intertwined, things get messy–one has never tasted consequences while the other lies awake at night, haunted by the thought of it.
genre. romance, angst
warnings. there's pretend kissing then there's real kissing where yangyang doesn't ask you, he just goes for it, i do not know the difference between drama and series so sorry <3
words. 8,812
eternal sunshine. masterlist
a/n. it gets better at the ending part so plZ just bear w me. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! I'm turning 20 this year lol feels so scary if you think about it but whatever
The universe is unfair, but Yangyang has learned to live with that.
It was unfair that he always played second to someone else. The second male lead, the second-best choice, the second most important. But he was never really bothered about it. Not until you waltzed your way into the picture.
You still remember it vividly. It was a Monday afternoon, the first read through with the cast of Eternal Sunshine–a week before filming. He was already sitting beside the chair assigned to you, practicing his lines diligently while you took a sip from your coffee you ordered to-go.
You greeted him with a warm smile but he only replied with a small and rushed one. Sure, he was your second lead in the drama but during that time, he made you feel unwanted. But who are you kidding? Of course, you were everything he wasn’t supposed to want. You’re the female lead, the one who would be with the male lead in the end. The center of attention. Realistically, you’re a nepo baby whose life had been handed to her on a silver platter, complete with designer shoes and an unearned (still) spotlight. But God, did you wear it well.
Whereas Yangyang had to work his way up. Every step of his journey was carved out of his determination and long nights filled with self-doubt, management’s uncertainty, and the media’s scrutiny. He wasn’t handed anything the first time he breathed in the land of showbiz. Every opportunity, recognition, and spotlight he’s getting right now is because he persevered.
That’s what made sitting next to you on that Monday afternoon so excruciating.
While he did smile to your way in a rushed manner, he viewed you as a person far differently than other people did when they looked your way. You were effortless in his eyes. Effortless in a manner that he could never be. Even in the most mundane moments like you sipping on your coffee, standing up to bow to anyone who comes in the script room, scrolling through your phone–you carried yourself with an air of belonging, like you had been born to inhabit the world he had clawed his way into.
And yet, it wasn’t jealousy that twisted his chest when he looked at you. Heck, it was something worse.
No matter how much he tried to deny it, when your mouth opened to read the script, Yangyang knew exactly what you were capable of. You weren’t just a nepo baby or some random female lead that the crew casted. You were the kind of actress everyone aspires to be. And also the kind of person who could uproot everything he’d worked so hard to build.
You first met Yangyang at a press conference after an award show your parents were invited for and you were their plus one. The journalist decided to pick on you, asking you pressing questions regarding your status in the industry.
“What do you feel that everyone’s calling you a nepo baby, Ms. Y/N?” Well, you almost wish the journalist hadn’t called you ‘Miss’ if his question was like that.
You just smiled at him awkwardly, never giving in to their pressing questions about your relevance in the acting industry. Afterall, you believe you’re more than just your parents. Sure, they opened this path for you but you’re working hard to show to everyone that you deserve that spot.
You never really paid attention to the young actor during that time but you saw him looking at you while you were being interrogated by the rude journalist. Your eyes met for a brief moment before he broke it to talk to another actor.
At first, Yangyang didn’t feel bad for you during that time, considering how he thought you were an annoying actress, like what he had heard from rumors.
“Miss Y/N, what’s with you today? You keep on failing the scene,” the director yells another disappointed ‘cut!’ after you fumbled your lines with a scene with Sicheng. “Let’s take 5!”
“I’m sorry, Sicheng,” you gave an apologetic smile to the star actor but he just shrugged and went to his assistant to freshen up.
If there was one thing you loved about working with Sicheng, it was because he doesn’t really care about where you came from or what you did to become his female lead. He’s just there for work. A bonus is that he treats you nicely, he’s just nonchalant at times. Especially when that pop star comes into the set.
“You’re too stiff, Y/N,” the sudden voice from behind your back startled you. You whip around to see Yangyang leaning casually against a prop stand, arms crossed and an amused grin tugging at his lips.
“Your body’s too tense, that’s why you keep messing up,” he points out, tilting his head. “I saw it when you were delivering your lines.”
“Oh, Yangyang-sunbaenim! I see, I’ll try to deliver these lines as smoothly as possible,” you replied, giving him a small smile.
“Practice it to me.”
“Huh?”
“Practice your line to me and I can give you feedback, dummy,” Yangyang reiterated, his tone filled with playful impatience.
“O-oh! Uhm…” You focus, taking a deep breath before looking directly into his eyes, “Lei… I don’t think you can understand me… I don’t think we’re… we’re…” Your voice falters right where it did before. You clench your jaw, trying to force the words out, but they just won’t come.
Your shoulders drop as you let out a sigh of defeat, “I don’t think I can do this,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper but Yangyang heard it.
“You think you can’t because you want Lei and Riko to be together. You’re so immersed in your role right now, Y/N,” Yangyang scolded, giving you a bottle of water from his staff.
“This isn't real, Y/N. You need to separate work and your personal feelings. If you want Lei and Riko to be together, they will in the end. Just not in this scene. Get yourself together and wrap this scene up so we can all go home,” he reaches up, ruffling your hair like you’re a little kid on the set, and before you can even process what he did, he’s already walking away, hands shoved in his pockets heading straight to annoy Kun.
“Separate work and personal feelings, huh?” You muttered, staring at the water he gave you. His words echo in your mind, louder than the busy mumbles of the crew around you. Maybe what he said is true considering how you can’t bear to think that Lei, Sicheng’s character, and Riko, your character, will end their love escapade for a few episodes before rekindling again.
“Y/N, Sicheng, back on stage!” The director yelled, giving you a brief smile before instructing the cameraman. “Do your best.”
You nod, tightening your grip on the water bottle before setting it aside. Your feet move automatically, carrying you toward the place you’ll be delivering your line in. As you’re heading to your place, you can feel Yangyang’s eyes on you.
You looked in his direction and he already had his signature gummy smile plastered on his face, “Do your best,” he mimicked the director’s voice, making you giggle.
It was a week after the first shooting for Eternal Sunshine that the director called you in her office for an emergency revision for the later episodes.
You were wearing your favorite faded jeans with a long sleeve and a coffee on your hand. At first, you thought it was just gonna be you and the director but a sleepy Yangyang came into her office like it’s his second home.
“Greetings, Yangyang!” The director annoyingly scolded him, throwing a pillow at him when he immediately latched himself onto the sofa.
“Hello, noona. Hello, Y/N.”
“I’m very sorry about him, Ms. Y/N,” his manager, Huang Renjun, apologized on behalf of the second male lead. “He just came from an overnight shooting with Mr. Qian Kun. The two of them had to shoot their scenes more than once because the rookie actor kept messing up and they didn’t want to be assholes on set.”
“Hey! What about an apology for me?” The director playfully demanded even though she had known the reason for Yangyang’s behavior beforehand. The director was like family for Yangyang and Renjun. This isn’t the first project they did together hence they’re comfortable with each other.
“As he said, Kun-ge,” Yangyang mentioned the golden boy and the three immediately saw the flabbergasted reaction of the director. “Kun-ge, Kun-ge, Kun-ge, Kun-” Yangyang teased, his smile grew wider as the director’s face became more embarrassed before having enough of his ministries.
“Enough, second lead!” The director sassed, “I called you here today because there’s a change in the storyline we’re going to record for tomorrow,” she started as her assistant gave you and Yangyang the copy of the revised script and concept for the shoot.
As you skimmed the pages, you realized that you and Yangyang’s character will be in close proximity, fully giving justice to his second male lead role. “As you can see, Riko and Jun will be closer to each other after Lei’s and Riko’s fall out. Of course, this will be brief as the latter couple will get back together,” she explained. “I just want the both of you to prepare yourselves. I know that the both of you have the least interaction throughout this series but you need to prepare… like, prepare,” she emphasized before adjourning the meeting, leaving you dazed.
“After reading this script, I think Riko will fall harder for Jun than Lei,” you joked, already feeling the pressure as you saw a scene where you and Yangyang had to kiss.
“Will you?” Yangyang asked, his tone was interrogating.
You tilted your head, confused with what he meant, “Will I what, sunbaenim?”
But he just shrugged, telling you to prepare for tomorrow before leaving the office.
The ride on the way home was unusually quiet.
“What do you think of him?” Your manager, Chenle, asked you.
“Of who?”
“Of Yangyang.”
You tried to think about what to say for a moment, “Well, he’s nice to me.”
“That’s it?” Chenle glanced at you through the rearview mirror, one brow arched. “Nice? He’s Yangyang, Y/N. Everyone I heard who worked with him can’t get him out of their heads after.”
You rolled your eyes, leaning your head against the window. “He’s good at what he does. Professional. Maybe those people can’t separate work from their personal lives or whatever.”
“Professional, huh?” You can hear the smirk from Chenle’s tone.
“Just stop overthinking things, Chenle,” You sighed, dumping all of your body weight on the car seat. “Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day with him so you better not make any weird comments like whatever this conversation is.”
“There’s nothing weird with the conversation we’re having, Y/N.” Chenle retorted, “I’m just hoping you could come to your senses tomorrow and do your best as an actress. You still have a lot to prove in the industry.”
“I know that.”
It’s tiring, honestly. For you, it’s a never ending quest of ‘proving’ yourself to the industry, general public, and your own family. It’s sad to think about how as a child, everyone was looking forward to your acting debut but once you did, all the nepotism news bombarded your career hence, you’re now known as the ‘nepo’ baby.
You used to think of it as a positive thing, you never forgot to thank your parents in every interview for this opportunity as an actress because you know, since as a kid, that this is the path meant for you. It’s like you’re honoring them every chance you have but the public deemed it as ‘rubbing your nepotism face’ every chance you get.
In the end, this whole issue got out of hand and you don’t mention your parents as much as you used to, even coming as close to declining films where they are starring in or in affiliation with in fear of the nepotism thing getting even bigger.
The next day on set had this heavy atmosphere not usually there when it’s you and Sicheng filming. You think it’s probably with the revised script that got everyone on their edge because the crew were everywhere, ensuring all of the props and sets are nice and perfect for your shoot.
It was also during this time that you realized the scene you’re about to do.
It’s the middle part of Riko and Jun’s relationship where they kiss because they realized they love each other, only for a short period of time, and it ought to feel magical or else people would believe that Riko’s still in love with Lei and is using Jun but in the script, Riko’s in love with Jun, even if it’s just for a brief period.
The director deemed it easier for the both of you to finish the hard scenes first before the others so as to ensure smooth filming in the later days of the schedule, considering that Yangyang and other actors in this series also has other schedules.
“Relax,” Yangyang’s voice broke through your thoughts as you couldn’t shake your nerves.
First day with Yangyang as your character’s lover and you’re already about to kiss. What’s there to not be nervous about?
He was leaning against the makeup station, dressed amazingly by his stylist. You think of his presence as effortless but right now, there’s a glint of something in his eyes–quiet yet intense.
“I’m trying, sunbae,” you replied, turning to face him.
He stepped closer to where you are, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “You’re overthinking it, Y/N. It’s just a scene. We’re professionals, remember?”
You nodded, but your hands were still trembling slightly. Yangyang saw your state and sighed. “Nepo babies,” he teased as he shook his head before giving you again a bottle of water. “Take a sip, madam. It will make you feel better.”
“I’m sorry for feeling nervous, sunbae.” You apologized as you took a sip from the water he gave you. “It’s just that… it’s my first kissing scene ever and I’m not familiar with the grounds for kissing in a scene.” you admitted.
Yangyang’s smile was wide and charming as he listened to your confession, “Don’t worry, sunbae will guide you.”
It was show time and the director called you and Yangyang in for a brief summary again.
“Look,” Yangyang said to catch your attention, “Think of this scene as an important moment for Jun and Riko. They came from heartbreaks and found comfort from each other,” he gave you an advice, “It’s like their enlightenment scene where they kiss and suddenly, all is well.”
You stared at him, trying to gauge what he had just said. “I’ll do my best,” you said shyly, offering him a small smile before walking to the center.
“I know you will,” Yangyang replied, his gummy smile returning.
“Okay, lovebirds for a glimpse,” the director called. Lovebirds for a glimpse is you and Yangyang’s new nickname on set because of this RikoJun scene you’re doing. “Kiss your way!” was all she said before giving the both of you the cue.
As the scene began, you convinced yourself that this isn’t about you. This is about Riko finding love again after what happened with Lei. This is her first kiss with someone who comforted her. And with that, you found yourself more at ease.
Yangyang’s character approached yours, his eyes showed vulnerability and it almost felt too real when his orbs directly looked into yours. The lines flowing out of his mouth smoothly, as if he meant them.
And when the moment came, when Jun leaned in and Riko didn’t pull away, it was like the rest of the world disappeared.
The kiss was soft, hesitant, and lingering–exactly as it was supposed to be. Yangyang held your head with such gentleness while your hands found their way to his back, trying to get him closer to your body.
You know it’s just pretend kissing but part of you wished it was real with the way Yangyang was holding you and your proximity, his warmth made you feel small in a way that is not condescending. He made you feel safe.
When the two of you break the kiss, your eyes meet again. This time, you definitely went out of character as you looked at him deeply, fully portraying Riko’s yearning for him. Her ‘I found you’ moment.
“Cut!” The director yelled ecstatically. “That was such a good scene!”
You thanked the director while your mind was still in a daze as Yangyang gave you a small, reassuring nod–as if saying that you did well. You couldn’t help but give the actor a smile in return.
As the crew buzzed around you again, you caught Chenle’s gaze from the sidelines. He raised a brow, smirking at your direction as if he knew something you didn’t.
And maybe, he did.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Between the countless takes, script changes, and the director’s endless feedback, you barely had time to process anything. Except when Yangyang was in the same room as yours. You admire how his presence seems to fill every corner, tugging at your attention no matter how hard you try to focus on anything else.
By the time you wrapped up for the day, your body ached from exhaustion, and all you wanted was to crawl into bed. At this time, you thoroughly expected a grumpy Chenle waiting for you in your dressing room but you were taken aback with what you got instead.
It was Yangyang, leaning against the wall near your dressing room, scrolling through his phone like he’s your boyfriend waiting for you to finish your shoot… you mean, what?
You hesitated to greet him but he looked up at you before you could even decide.
“Y/N,” he greeted, “Chenle’s out with Renjun. Figured I’ll wait for you instead, considering how late it is now.”
“Oh,” you mentally cursed your manager, your inner monologues filled with ‘How dare he’ and ‘How could he’. “It’s fine, sunbae. I can manage on my own.”
Yangyang slipped his phone into his pocket, standing up straight in the process. “No, nepo baby. You’re gonna be with me until you enter the backdoor of your apartment.”
You’re too tired to decline a persistent Yangyang that you just nodded before heading to the parking lot. “Long day,” you sighed, leaning into the car seat of Renjun’s van.
“Tell me about it,” he responded as he started driving.
You glanced at him, surprised, “I almost forgot! Aren’t you supposed to be staying for the night shoot?”
“Nah, Kun’s taking over because of changes again. Figured the director would have also preferred it that way,” he laughed as his hands smoothly maneuvered the steering wheel.
You giggled at his response, “Sounds about right.”
The two of you drove in an awkward silence for a while, the cold air conditioning of the van touches your body, making you shiver.
“So,” he said eventually, looking at you for a brief period in his rearview mirror. “How’d it feel? The scene, I mean.”
You bit your lip, avoiding his brief glances at your place. “I don’t know,” you started, “It felt different… I don’t think I can find the right words to describe it right now, really.”
You try to brush off his question with a laugh but you know deep inside your heart that you couldn’t just tell him you wished that the kiss was real. That you wish there was something more and that his glances at you earlier meant something.
“But your advice did help a lot!” You tried changing the topic which you think was effective after he gave you a smug chuckle in return.
“Told you.”
There was something easy about talking to him like this, away from the cameras and the crew and everything.
While driving, Yangyang made sure to take all the precautions he needed so as to not get caught with you in his manager’s van. Sure, he’s being friendly and acting like a dependable sunbae to you but he can’t afford being caught in a scandal, not with you.
When you reached your destination, he made sure to contact the security to ensure no one was there before letting you go.
“Thanks for earlier, sunbae! I don’t think I would’ve gotten through it without your reassurance.”
He tilted his head, studying you for a moment before giving you a soft smile. “You would’ve been fine, with or without my advice. Give yourself some credit.”
You stood frozen in the middle of your apartment’s parking lot at the sudden compliment. “Anyway, Y/N, get some good rest as tomorrow will be just as crazy as today.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, “You too, sunbae, you too.”
By the time you reached your unit, you were surprised to see Chenle’s outdoor shoes in the entryway.
“Yangyang said you’re out with Renjun,” your face turned sour at the sight of Chenle chilling on your sofa. “What a bad manager you are!”
“Yeah, yeah whatever. I left the restaurant earlier than Renjun.”
You didn’t mind what he said and went directly to your room to change. When you come back to your living room, he’s still in the same spot you left him a while ago.
“What do you think of him now?” He asked again. This time, you already know who he was referring to.
“He’s still fine and I still don’t understand why you’re doing this,” you rolled your eyes, joining him at your sofa.
“He looks at you like you’re the lead of more than just the show, Y/N,” Chenle said slyly.
“You’re overthinking things again, Chenle. Yangyang-sunbae is nice. I think we just have a good hoobae-sunbae relationship that’s why you’re acting like that,” you defended the actor.
“I hope you’re right,” was all he said before placing all of his attention back to the television.
At this point, you hope you’re right.
It’s been a week since you spent time with Yangyang, filming the scenes for RikoJun and today, you guys are wrapping it all up–they’re gonna end their relationship and Lei will come back into the picture.
“Missed me, Y/N?” Sicheng teased you.
It’s also been a week since you last saw Sicheng, considering how busy he had gotten with his modelling gigs and sneaking out the pop star every night to his condominium.
“You wish,” you retorted.
“I heard you and Yangyang have a great chemistry,” he said again, his arms crossed to his chest.
“I like to think we do, too!” You gleefully replied, “His advice helped me a lot, especially during the heavy scenes we have together.”
Sicheng looked at you, “Mhm. I hope we still have that spark together after your time with him.”
Everyone on set was perplexed as to why Yangyang’s watching your scenes with Sicheng now, considering how he doesn’t have any upcoming shoots with you or with other actors of the drama today.
“Yang? Why are you here?” The director asked, completely puzzled to see the young man on set.
“Just wanna watch some of my colleagues, noona,” he showed off his gummy smile before proceeding to sit at the chair where the intern is supposed to sit.
“Back off, Liu. The intern’s assigned there,” Hendery hissed, giving Yangyang a side eye before watching the younger one go away from the seat.
“Chill, Wong.”
But Hendery didn’t give him any more attention, walking back to his van again to wait for the director’s orders.
“Woah! What a tense situation you got there, Yang!” The director saw what happened, grinning ear to ear at Yangyang.
“Shut up, noona. Why you gotta hire that man, anyways?”
“Well, he’s a good actor and he’s not rude to me,”
“Whatever,” was all he said before looking for another seat to conquer.
After your shoot, you saw Yangyang outside your van, leaning against it while busying himself with his cellphone.
“Sunbae?”
“Oh, Y/N. Already finished?” He asked, his eyes filled with joy as soon as he saw you in front of him.
“Yeah. Why are you here, sunbae?”
“N-nothing, Y/N. Have a great day.”
You found it weird that Yangyang’s in front of your van yet left when you arrived but you didn’t divulge deep into the thought as your manager’s already waiting for you inside.
“He was waiting for you,” Chenle told you the moment you sat on the leathered seat. “I thought he’s going to ask you out or something.”
“Please stop, Chenle. I know you like joking about stuff like that but he’s just a nice sunbae, that’s all!”
“Drop the act, Y/N. I know you like him.”
This time, he’s right.
It started with the kiss scenes then the lovey-dovey shootings then came the drive-you-home extravaganza. Everything about Yangyang screams boyfriend for you. When he’d smile at you like you’re his most favorite thing in his world or when you’d be the only one he’d give techniques and advice on set, you knew what Chenle said about the man is right.
At first, you were in-denial about it. Thinking that maybe you’re thinking this way about Yangyang because you can’t get your shit together and that you’re acting unprofessional. But, you know yourself. All this time, you are professional and diligent but his acts towards you aren't.
Now, you’re here watching his character meet up with a new character the director added on a whim, saying something along the lines of ‘I’m sad Yangyang’s character didn’t have a partner.’
“Cut!” The director shouted, “That was a good run! Thank you, everyone!”
The moment your eyes locked in with Yangyang, he immediately walked your way, not minding the new female character in his vicinity.
“You were great out there,” you complimented.
“Thanks,” he looked up before looking right into your eyes again, “But that’s just an act you know, what you saw earlier.”
“...I know?” You laughed. Of course, you know. You’re an actress for god’s sake!
“Just… saying,” he responded. “Anyways, are you free? Do you want to hangout with Sicheng and the rest?”
You thought he’s about to ask you out on a date but Sicheng’s name flew out of his mouth and made your mood a bit down.
“Sure, I’d love to,” you replied, opening your SMS app to message your manager about the said gathering.
You were about to sit beside Yangyang when the new actress beat you to it and told you to sit between Sicheng and Hendery.
“It’s more fun if we sat beside our partners in the drama!” She suggested but you knew she just wanted to sit besides Yangyang.
The table was tense, with the actress giving Yangyang a lot of food on his plate while you and the rest were quietly looking at the both of them.
“I told Yangyang not to invite the newbie,” Hendery murmured.
“Wouldn’t that be bad?” You asked, surprised he even talked to you.
“So what? He could tell her I’m the one who suggested it.”
“That would be bad for you, then.”
“Everyone knows I’m bad. Much better for her to experience it sooner.’
You wanted to continue the conversation with Hendery more but he was clearly preoccupied with his ramen.
“That’s Hendery for you,” Sicheng smiled. “Here, get some of the beef I cooked.”
“Thank you, Sicheng,” you thanked him as he put some cooked beef into your plate.
From time to time, Yangyang kept on glancing at you while the new addition to the crew kept on pushing herself to the man. He was being uncomfortable because even though they rented a private section of this restaurant, rumors can still go and he can’t afford to have that.
“He’s looking at you, Y/N,” Sicheng said, as if you hadn’t noticed it earlier.
“I know, oppa. It feels weird.”
“Miss Y/N, you haven’t been touching your plate. Is everything alright?” Dejun asked rather loudly and everyone’s eyes on you now which made you feel small, especially when Yangyang’s gaze turned concerned.
“Yes, Dejun-sunbae. I just feel full now,” you smiled at his direction which is a bit to the left whereas you were in the middle.
“I’ll finish your food, Y/N. Give it to me,” Yangyang suddenly said, his right hand in your direction, waiting for you to give him your plate.
“But–”
“Sicheng-ge, give me her plate,” you swear you could hear the newbie disagreeing with Yangyang but he didn’t mind.
Sicheng, being the biggest shipper of you and Yangyang, gladly followed the younger’s request.
“Thank you, Yangyang-sunbae,” you said, eyes glinting with affection that everyone on the table didn’t miss.
Of course, the both of you may not notice your deep fondness towards each other but everyone around you can feel it–they just don’t want to meddle with it.
After everyone finished eating, you guys decided it would be better to part ways with each other and when the cast vanished into the busy streets of Seoul, you found yourself alone with Yangyang.
“At last,” Yangyang jokingly said, nudging you playfully with his elbow while grinning from ear to ear. “At last, I can be with you alone!”
Your heartbeat raced as you tried finding a reasonable response to him. “Don’t say that, sunbae!”
“Why? Don’t you want to spend time with me?”
“I like being with you, Yangyang-sunbae,” you responded, your tone was heartfelt but your execution was shy.
Yangyang glanced at you for a while before forcing you to look back up at him, his fingers found your chin, racing it up so you could meet eye to eye. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this, Y/N.”
“Mhm?”
“You can stop calling me sunbae, you know,” he continued, “Just call me Yangyang, like everyone does.”
“But I don’t like calling you the way they do,” you argued, your lips forming a firm line.
He just laughed at your stubbornness before ruffling your hair.
“Okay, nepo baby. Just call me whatever you want,” he smiles at you genuinely, never getting tired of your little habits.
“Okay, my dearest sunbae,” he laughs again this time but you truly meant what you had said.
Sure, you might have other sunbae than him that you look up to and respect the most but none of them is Yangyang. None of them can make you feel the way he makes you feel. To you, he’s irreplaceable.
Yangyang’s presence is a constant in your day as an actress. He’s always there, watching your scenes and cheering you on every chance he gets. He would also lean over your script, pointing out notes with an exaggerated seriousness that makes you not pay attention to him.
“You know, I could just ask the director,” you say, snatching the paper back.
“But I’m more fun,” he whines, leaning back with a pout.
Then there are the quieter moments, like when you’re both reviewing scenes on his tablet, shoulder’s brushing as you sit close enough to share the screen. Or the way his hands would instinctively hand you a water bottle before you could even realize you’re thirsty.
Or when he would always stay up late at night, waiting for you to wrap up your shoot before bidding you goodbye, watching you go inside your van before minding his own way home.
“Sunbae, you don’t have to wait for me everytime,” you say one evening as he lingers beside the director’s chair, watching you finish your last take for the day.
“And miss seeing you trip over your lines when you’re tired? No thanks,” he teased, flashing you a mischievous grin.
You rolled your eyes at him, tossing a tissue towards his direction which he dodges with a dramatic flair.
Moments like this have become the norm, not just to you but to everyone else.
Everyone on set notices it. The way Yangyang’s eyes soften when he talks to you, the way your laughter is always louder in his presence. It’s in how he seems to move with you, like gravity itself pulls him into your orbit.
“They’re so obvious,” the director complains jokingly.
“Would you say anything, though?” Kun asked with a hushed tone, glancing at you both from across the room.
“Hell no.”
To the crew, it’s an open secret that no one dares to talk about. To you and Yangyang, it’s just the way things are.
And Chenle’s really worried for you.
You’re sitting in the dressing room, scrolling mindlessly on your phone while Chenle organizes your schedule for the following months. The buzzing voices and footsteps of the crew fades as you stand up for a while to close the door, creating a rare moment of peace and solitude in your otherwise hectic day, before sitting comfortably again.
Chenle sets his laptop down on the table with a deliberate thud, breaking the comforting silence.
“We need to talk, Y/N,” he says, his tone filled with urgency.
You glance up, already sensing the shift in his usual sunny demeanor. “What is it this time?” You asked, trying to lift his mood up but it seems like your manager has no time for jokes or any of your ministrations.
“It’s about Yangyang.”
You look at him puzzled, “What about him?”
Chenle crossed his arms, his expression was stern. “Whatever’s going on between you two, it’s too much. Everyone on set sees it.”
“So what if they do? People talk all the time,”you counter, feigning nonchalance, though your heartbeat races and you feel a knot tightening in your stomach.
“This is serious, Y/N,” his tone now direct, “This isn’t just about people talking. You’re putting your reputation and his career at risk!”
You roll your eyes at what he had said, leaning back in your chair. “Chenle, it’s not that serious. Even if something happens, my parents can fix it. They’ve done it before. Don’t worry.”
“See? That’s exactly the problem Y/N,” he snaps, “You’re so used to your parents cleaning up after you that you don’t even see how dangerous this is for him,” you could tell his frustration is boiling over but you don’t seem to understand why he’s angry. “Sure, you can tell everyone how you’re so much more of your name or your parents. You can decline any movies or series with their name, but that action of yours. This action of yours is why people still think you’re a nepo baby.”
Your eyebrows furrow, feeling confused. “I’m not doing anything wrong, Chenle. I’m sure Yangyang knows how to handle himself.”
“Does he?” Chenle laughs at your naivety. “Do you have any idea how hard he’s worked to get here? He doesn’t have the privilege of a safety net like you, Y/N,” he pauses for a moment, trying to catch his breath. “One scandal, one rumor, and everything he’s built is gone.”
You’re quiet for a moment. The weight of his words made you understand where he’s coming from but your response only deepened the rift. “Okay, fine. If it comes to that, I’ll handle it. My parents will definitely make sure nothing happens to him either. I’m sure of it.”
Chenle was cynical after hearing what you have just said. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about who your parents can pay off. It’s about respect. Respect for his work, his sacrifices, his entire life!”
Outside the door, Yangyang stands frozen, his hand stuck on the knob. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on you and Chenle’s conversation, he just wanted to hang out with you today but instead, he got to hear your careless and out of touch words, making his chest tighten.
He hears Chenle’s voice lower, ultimately giving off the vibes that he’s intensely irritated at what you have said. “You’re so caught up in thinking everything will be fine because it always is for you. But for him? It’s not. And if you really care about him, you’d stop pretending this isn’t a big deal. Stop whatever is going on with you two, Y/N.”
Yangyang doesn’t want to hear anymore of what you guys are talking about. His stomach churns as he walks away, Chenle’s words and your indifference playing over and over in his head.
The ride home was quiet but not the quiet you wanted to have with Chenle. You genuinely can’t understand why he’s so exasperated with you when you’re just telling the truth. You can’t seem to find the problem with your parents paying off tabloids and threatening news agencies to keep the rumors about you and Yangyang out of the public eye.
And maybe, just maybe, the reason why you can’t find the problem with what you have said is because you’d never truly had to worry about the consequences of your actions. For you, it was simple: if things went wrong, you had the means to make it right.
“Chenle,” you finally broke the silence, your voice softer now. “I didn’t mean to upset you earlier. I thought I was being practical, you know? Looking out for everyone… I don’t know. Maybe I’ve missed something.”
Chenle’s hand tightened around the steering wheel of the van and you could see the tension in his shoulders. “It’s not just about you, Y/N,” he said, “It’s about Yangyang too. You have no idea how much risk he had put out on himself just so you could be close with him the way you are with him now. How he’d probably be in his bed every night, thinking when or where news would break out about you two but still continue to act like your lover day by day. You have no idea how much he’s risked for you and here you are, thinking everything can be handled with a few phone calls from your parents.”
His words stung more now, the sharpness of them cutting through your confusion. You tried to open your mouth to speak but nothing came out. This time, you knew Chenle was right. You have no idea.
“Do you really think this is just a game for him, Y/N?” Chenle continued, “I know, it’s partly my fault for letting him drive you home that night and for not giving you a heads up but I didn’t think it could go deeper. I didn’t think it could end up like this.”
“It’s not your fault, Chenle. I just… I just didn’t think of it like that,” you murmured, your voice almost too quiet for him to hear. “I just thought that… that it’s the way things work for me. I didn’t realize our situation could put him in a worse situation than me.”
Chenle’s expression softened at your confession, “I know you didn’t. But that’s why I need you to start seeing it from his side. From his perspective. This isn’t about what you can fix or what you think you can get away with.”
Betrayed is an understatement of how Yangyang feels right now. Hearing Chenle’s frustration and your clueless words earlier made his heart twist uncomfortably. Just when he thought everything was okay. Just when he thought it was okay to let his guard down for you. You just had to let him feel different from you.
“What are you going to do, Yang?” Renjun asked, sighing as he saw his talent leaning against the window of his car. He had heard about you and your manager’s dispute from Yangyang. The young man was already on the verge of crying when Renjun calmed him down, even just for a moment.
“I knew we shouldn’t have gone that far into whatever we had, ge.”
“I’m sure Y/N had her reasons as to why she said those things, Yang,” Renjun tried to save you from Yangyang but he knew it’s no use.
Knowing Yangyang, Renjun’s too sure that the boy will completely distance himself from you, considering how he just realized how dangerous it is for him to fall for someone like you.
“No, ge. This has to stop. Whatever this is. Chenle’s right. Even if I hadn’t heard her talking with her manager, I can’t let things go that far, ge. I have a career to uphold,” Yangyang sighed, “What would the public think if they learned about us? It’s so scary.”
“You’re overthinking again. Try to talk things with her tomorrow, maybe it’ll clear your mind.”
Tomorrow came and Yangyang dreaded it the most. You, on the other hand, are oblivious to the fact that your potential significant other potentially heard your conflict with Chenle last night.
“Yang-sunbae!” You greeted, still clueless.
With you greeting him with a huge smile that could cure the world, Yangyang wished he hadn’t heard what you had said yesterday. Yangyang wished this could go on. Yangyang wished you guys were just ordinary people.
“I heard your conversation with Chenle,” he wasted no time. Yangyang spoke to you with the coldest tone he could muster but his insides were shaking.
“Hm?” You were confused.
What conversation with Chenle? You thought.
Oh. You realized.
Oh.
“Must be nice for you, huh? To not be worried about your career because your parents can clean your mess up,” his words cut you like a knife. He swore to himself to become calm once you met him but Yangyang felt overwhelmed.
“What are you-” you couldn’t even continue what you were about to say because he interrupted you again, his disappointment in you evident in his eyes.
“I like you, Y/N.”
Those were the words you hoped Yangyang would one day say to you but his tone wasn’t the way to put it. You felt no butterflies in your stomach because you know this is not the confession where the both of you would end up together. More like a confession where you’d end up alone.
“I like you too, Yangyang-sunbae,” you try. You hoped that he would calm down. That this revelation of feelings would soothe him and make him realize that everything is okay. That he’d realize you’re ready to risk everything for him.
But deep down, you know you’re just a fool for even confessing.
Yangyang shook his head, “I like you, Y/N,” he repeated, “But we should stop. Your manager is right. What we have right now shouldn’t continue. We’re not allowed to be like this,” his voice cracks at the end of his sentence.
A confession and a closure at the same dialogue? Yangyang is the only one who could do that.
“Yang…” but he didn’t respond. You look at his figure walking out of the set.
You cried at where he had left you. You look like a fool there, with the director coming at your direction, completely confused as to why Yangyang left so suddenly and why you were left there, sobbing.
“No amount of public hate could make me hurt the way his words did,” you cry at the director’s shoulder. You were almost shaking.
It was your first ever rejection you have received your whole life. Sure, some individuals do not accept you in this field but his rejection of you was personal.
“Why’d you do that to her?” Yangyang found it surprising that Hendery was the one to ask him why. Out of all the people in the set, this young and rude man was the first one to ask him why.
“She can’t understand me or my situation. She can never understand it,” Yangyang just replied as he brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply as smoke curled up in the air.
“You should have known that from the start, considering she’s a product of nepotism,” Hendery replied. Him, too, lighting up his own cig.
“She’s more than what the public thinks of her,” Yangyang argued, “But, I think I have overestimated her.”
Yangyang didn’t mean to leave you crying, he felt hurt himself. When he saw you earlier, memories of yesterday flooded his mind, overwhelming him and causing him to say whatever came to mind in that moment.
He was terrified that he would become nothing once the news about you two broke. The thought of a dating scandal uprooting all the sacrifices he had made for his career filled him with dread. In truth, he was afraid of you.
From the first time he saw you at the read-throughs, he sensed something about you could destroy him. Still, he tried until all that remained was the painful realization that you couldn’t be with him.
Hendery didn’t respond to Yangyang anymore. Instead, he just stood there while Yangyang found himself sitting with his truth in silence, grappling with the weight of his emotions. It was just him, Hendery, and the unspoken fears that lingered between you two, a reminder of what could never be.
“I know this is bad timing but the editing team accidentally deleted a kissing scene from Riko and Jun and now–” the director was frantic, almost worried for you and Yangyang but Kun calmed her down.
“Breathe,” he said, patting the back of the director to soothe her.
“Thank you,” she smiled before continuing, “I need the two of you to get your act together and film this one, just one, scene again.”
Yangyang didn’t reply, as if he’s distracted with something. You, on the other hand, gave the director a small nod.
It was the day after the confession-closure thing and you kinda accepted to yourself that while he has become wary with you, you’re still willing to accept him. Even if it takes a lifetime.
“Good morning, sunbae!” You gave him your best, energetic smile but he just gave you a nod.
“At least, he acknowledged you,” Sicheng’s makeup artist felt bad for you so she tried to cheer you up.
“Okay, Y/N and Yangyang! Give us your best shot!” The director calls, you breathe deeply before looking straight into Yangyang’s, you mean, Jun’s eyes.
Be professional, Y/N! You scold yourself.
Yangyang immediately dives into the kissing scene, leaving you no room to mentally prepare for it.
The kiss was fierce and desperate. You feel as if you’re trying to consume each other, pouring all your unspoken words and pent-up feelings into this single moment.
Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling him closer as if afraid he might disappear. He responds by deepening the kiss, his hands gripping your waist tightly, grounding you both in this whirlwind of passion.
It’s as if you guys weren’t Riko and Jun. The pretend kiss was extremely intense, everyone on set felt that it was genuine than it was supposed to be. But the director liked it.
“Cut!” The director shouted and Yangyang was quick enough to detach himself from you. “That was a good one-take!”
You weren’t able to respond because Yangyang was already leading you to a secluded place.
“Hey! Wait!” You try to make him stop, “The director’s not finished talking, sunbae.”
Once he deems it’s safe enough, he looks at you before sighing deeply. He leans into you, kissing you for real this time.
Yangyang doesn’t know if this is your first kiss but you don’t care at all. You close your eyes, feeling the moment.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says, breathless.
“I should be the one apologizing, sunbae.”
Yangyang inhales, looking straight into your eyes, “It’s just… it’s just I’m afraid to disappoint them, Y/N. My fans. The public. I don’t like the way they’d paint me if we’re revealed.”
“It’s okay, really. At least, you told me now,” you give him a half smile.
In that instant, you realize how much you’re willing to risk for him. You were so easy to forgive him that you’d already forgotten what he had made you feel yesterday. But there’s this thought that has been eating you since then… that Yangyang’s not ready to risk what you’re ready to give him.
“Look,” you were determined to make this right. “I know it’s complicated but–”
He shakes his head harshly, cutting you off. “No, Y/N. You don’t understand this ‘complicated’ you’re talking about. I like you, Y/N. I genuinely, deeply fell for you but I can’t afford to risk my career or put you in danger of being even more hated by the general public.”
“Yangyang-sunbae,” your voice was trembling but you still gave him a forced smile, “We can still be friends, you know?” You don’t want to be friends with him but if that’s the only way to keep him around, you’re willing.
“No, Y/N. We can’t be friends.”
“Why not?” You plead, desperate for him to explain whatever he has on his mind because he’s been puzzling you since earlier.
“Because I like you more than friends do,” he admits, his voice betraying him again.
The confession sends a rush of emotions through you, “So what does this mean for us?”
“It means…” He hesitates again, his brow furrowing, knowing that whatever comes out of his mouth next will change his relationship with you. “It means I have to lose you to protect you.”
The words hit you like a punch to the face. You want to scream that it’s not fair, that love shouldn’t come with conditions or sacrifices, but only a shaky breath left your lips.
“Yangyang-sunbae,” you say softly, stepping closer again despite the chasm between your desires and his fears. “I don’t want to lose you.”
He looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like time stands still. In those gaze of his lies everything unspoken: the love that burns fiercely but is overpowered by his fear.
“I wish things were different,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.
You reach out, fingers brushing against his hand, wishing for him to reconsider. But deep down, you know he’s already made up his mind.
“It’s premiere day!” The director gleamed.
“Sicheng, you ready?” You ask your lead partner.
“Ask yourself first if you’re ready,” he replied. And he’s right about it, considering how this is the first time you’re going to see Yangyang again after your closure.
The venue was filled with energy, cameras flashing from left to right, fans cheering for every cast member, and the buzz of excitement filling every corner of the room. You take a deep breath before diving in with Sicheng at the stage, reminding yourself of the work you had put into this series.
The lights were blinding you and Sicheng and you can’t even hear the cheers of your fans with your heart thumping incredibly loud and fast. As you pose for photos, your eyes can’t help but wander to Yangyang. And when you did? Your heart almost dropped.
Yangyang looked dapper in his suit, standing with his partner in the drama as well as the other cast members. He catches your gaze for a second before continuing to smile at the cameras pointed at him. You can’t help but feel a pang in your chest.
You mean, what’s the point of looking that good if there’s a distance between the both of you?
After the dashing and successful premiere of Eternal Sunshine, you find yourself at the after-party where only the crew and the cast were invited.
The atmosphere was celebratory, filled with laughter and clinking of glasses. Heck, you even heard someone say that this drama is going to be a hit and that you deeply hope. But your mind wanders to Yangyang, sitting at the side with Hendery, exchanging small talks with the man every once in a while.
You don’t know what came to you at that exact moment but you can’t help yourself. Your feet found its way towards an unsuspecting Yangyang.
You first greeted Hendery, who even though feels the atmosphere didn’t need his presence there, didn’t give a single care and continued to eat.
“Y/N,” Yangyang greeted you first.
“Hey,” you smile softly at him before leaning to his level, whispering, “I just want you to know that I’ll wait for your love, Yang.”
It was the first time Yangyang had heard you call him without honorifics, making him flustered and shocked. He was about to respond to you but you shushed him, walking towards the area where the director is to talk with her.
You know that there’s no need for further explanation because deep down inside, you're resolute: you’ll absolutely wait for his love. You like this man deeply, more than words can explain, and no matter how long it takes you're willing to endure it all for him.
COMING UP NEXT. “Yeah, but it’s so weird because you can feel the tension and I think it’d be even weirder now because they’re wrapping up the first season and Ten has to get the interesting bits while the makeup artist has to make sure Sicheng is the interesting bit.”
genre fluff , established long term relationship , yangyang x fem!reader cw they're so in love , kissing , not proofread wc 918 request yes note guys im so single im so sorry for how disgustingly fluffy this is but me and my boyfriend when net @kstrucknet @neocity-net
You’d been dating Liu Yangyang for years, more than you could truly keep track of until your anniversary rolled around each year. You were always together, and easily had one of the most stable relationships of your entire combined friend group. While you nursed your friends through breakups, drama, or shitty treatment, you always had Yangyang to fall back to. Yangyang, who you never had any problems with.
Sure you had your occasional fight and disagreements, but they never lasted. Even if you were annoyed at Yangyang, whenever you looked at him, you could only feel love overflowing. Perhaps it helped that there was rarely a serious moment between you two. Even in the most romantic and sentimental moments, there would always be something to crack you up.
Laughing until your stomach hurt— that was the feeling you most associated with your boyfriend. More than his soft kisses, or his teasing ones. More than his warm hugs and spontaneous tickle attacks. More than his big grin and endless compliments. When you were with Yangyang, you always found yourself laughing. And that was what made you believe he was meant for you, and you for him more than anything. Soulmates, if one believed in such things.
You would always be the first one to jump to defend your boyfriend and gush about how amazing he was. But even so, you weren’t clingy. Yangyang was always the one to latch onto you and refuse to let you go or smother you with kisses after a long day hours apart. You were just there to reciprocate the affection you initiated. You never felt like you weren’t close enough to Yangyang because he was always with you.
But when it came to tours when your boyfriend was in an entirely different country for weeks, sometimes months; that was when you started to struggle. You weren’t used to experiencing the feeling so intensely. Like the second he was back you needed to crawl into his skin and make a new home there. It felt as if you would explode if you saw another photo or video from one of the concerts.
He was always styled to perfection; charisma and flirty looks on for everyone to see during the 3 hour show. But there was always the goofy side of him that came out as well— clips of him giggling on stage, excited to see fans or having fun doing a segment with the other members. Those were worse than the sexy moments, because it reminded you of how much you missed his laugh. You missed laughing with him.
Of course, you could call him. But you never laughed as much on video call with him. And it certainly never felt the same as laughing in his arms. Feeling his body shake with his giggles, or your laughter being cut off with his lips. Even if he didn’t say he missed you when he called you (which was rare— he was always complaining about it), you could hear it in his held back laughter. Something always felt missing when you weren’t together.
That was why you impatiently counted down the days until he would be back from tour and back in your arms. Then you truly wouldn’t hold back. You needed to hug him so tight that your arms would feel sore, and kiss him until you forgot what it felt like to not have his lips entangled with yours. You needed to feel his warm skin under your fingertips and hear the melodious laughter that only you could summon from him so easily. You had never missed your boyfriend so damn much, and you were almost positive the feeling was going to drive you insane.
Naturally, you decided to wait by the door the entire morning, biding the time until your boyfriend walked through it, as if staring at it would make him come back any faster. You could track his location on your phone. You saw it clearly state thirty minutes more before he was back. But you stared nonetheless, counting down the seconds to curb your longing.
You held your breath when you heard the car pull up, time going unbearably slow until the door opened. Then everything was a blur— moving too fast for you to process as your heart soared. His scent enveloped your senses. His arms around your body squeezed you perfectly.
And then he laughed. It brought your own laughter to bubble up immediately and soon you were lost in the feeling you had missed more than anything else.
“Fuck, I missed you so much. I missed this so much,” he said, nose scrunching along with his big grin as he took a moment to soak you in again. His eyes, deep and full of love, could not be moved from your face. You watched them drift down to your lips, and you leaned up naturally, meeting him halfway.
His lips were as soft as ever, desperate to memorize the kiss like he had never experienced it before in his life. Weeks deprived of the feeling made it even sweeter now. You knew you both wouldn’t be content until your lips were swollen and the taste of his lip balm stayed on your tongue for the rest of the day.
Now that Yangyang was finally back home, you wanted to stay in his arms for hours. And after the hours flew by and drowsiness crept onto you both, you would fall asleep still cuddled close to him.
wayv taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @planetkiimchi,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @chenleszone,, @cupidslovearrows,, @hursheys,, @raevyng,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @voikiraz,, @xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows,, @nicholasluvbot,, @hhaechansmoless,, @i03jae,, @somerandomf1fan,, @tmrwsuns
synopsis: missing the last train out of new shanghai was not on the to-do list. however, your project partner liu yangyang promises fun, dazzling lights, and the warmth of a human connection for this festive weekend. perhaps even in the era of diamond and steel, the human touch means something after all.
genre: oriental cyberpunk, f2l, fluff
warning(s): swearing & several innuendos. also out-of-date jokes sorry guys i wrote this in 2021
words: 11.9k
a/n: this is just a rework of an old fic i posted here with another character! if you find any inconsistencies, it's probably because of that LOL also this is not a wincore revival but i did miss everyone on here !!
i. city plaza
Some idiot, somewhere along in history, decided to renovate a city into something so dazzling that the population shoots up to a hundred and fifty percent of what was before, and the rest of the damage comes along with the people. Promises are made and broken to build this city of extravagance. You have the belief that the more people there are in one place, the more difficult it gets to live there. This dazzling hellscape means colliding into too many people on the streets, too many bright lights outside your dorm room when you’re trying to sleep and the god awful sound of deafening firecrackers at every new year celebration.
Another idiot somehow roped you into his ‘midnight adventure: traditional version’ once he heard you missed the last train ticket out of the city. Liu Yangyang has a terrible way with words—but he has a way.
You were, by some unfortunate gamble of the gods, partners for a project that accounted for sixty percent of the grade. While that affair is over, you still haven't rid yourself of the predicament that is Yangyang. Gorgeous, yes, but too overwhelming. You smack your head against the car window only for him to jump in his seat beside you, hand gently driving over your forehead to check for damage. The neon city lays around you, and festive light projections float across the sky in intricate shapes of the ox and written messages. This is going nowhere. You came to this city sacrificing everything and yet suddenly, everything’s hanging on a string again.
The city lights of New Shanghai are cruel. Everything in this place is cruel.
Which is exactly why you’re in Yangyang’s car, parked by the middle level city plaza on New Year’s Eve. It is, in fact, illegal to hover by the city plaza on New Year’s Eve but Yangyang seems to either not care or simply doesn’t know. You forget the law doesn’t exist for rich kids. Out of all man-made wonders, rules are the most interesting.
“Shall we go?” he asks, voice bubbly as ever. Every morning, he chirps like the alarm birds outside your window. Yes, it has made you want to sleep forever at times.
“It’s just one night. And I’ll be with you, so you don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” you snap.
“Not afraid of the dark either?”
You pull your jacket closer to you. Here, the cold streets of the techno-jungle make you shiver more often than not. If you dare go out without friends, a city so grand will inevitably drain the life out of you. Your body alone cannot withstand the dazzle. And—you can’t be afraid of the dark after you’ve complained about the lights.
You look at Yangyang and back to the cityscape outside—large conglomerative blocks of buildings, some hosting advertisements with the faces of inhumanly beautiful models and some with the ‘Happy New Year!’ text animation floating about in increasingly complex patterns. You see the revolving top of one of the grandest skyscrapers, a Dior hotel, not the tallest but certainly the most pleasing to look at. It gleams from red to orange like the pulsating heart of a giant metropolitan beast. There are more funky buildings to look at, some not even the shape of austere corporate skyscrapers.
“Do you wanna go there?” Yangyang asks all of a sudden. “I heard the lounge is closed off from eleven. I can call some friends and we can book a room though—”
“No. No way. I’m not going to spend new year’s eve in a Dior suite.”
He grins. “Thank god. It’s so boring there. Only models and businessmen and whatever freak shit they do.”
You sigh. Liu Yangyang is a whole story in itself. He’s rich and popular—a dream of many—but so few are as welcoming as he is. When you’re in that position, you’re bound to have a little metal seep into your heart. Some hidden part of you, however, tells you to loosen up when you’re with him; just let it go and have a good time. There’s no reason why you shouldn't. The economy is on a steep incline, the people are happy and no other city compares to this place. You could learn a thing or two from Yangyang.
He looks at you questioningly, eyes waiting and the curve of his lips still. You notice his platinum blond hair is more styled than usual, you can almost smell the gel on it, and for a moment, you wish you looked as good as he does. A dark leather jacket accentuates his shoulders, the plain T-shirt underneath not of the flashy type. He looks like he’s ready for club-hopping and you, anything but. If you knew earlier that you’d be by the Strip around midnight on New Year’s, you'd have dressed better.
“If you stay any longer in my car, people are going to assume we’re…y’know,” he states, quirking his eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal, though. Like, who thought fu—”
You were wrong. There is absolutely nothing to learn from Liu Yangyang.
“I would get out of this car immediately and fall to my death before I let that happen,” you retort, crossing your arms.
“No, hey. What an inauspicious sentence. Besides, and I’m not bragging but you should know I’m really good at using my assets—”
“Don’t say a word.”
The heat of embarrassment flows into your cheeks at his implication. You look out the window, weighing out the pros and cons. The scenery is so bright that sometimes it hurts to look outside. It’s not midnight yet but the main streets are already getting crowded for the processions; the sound of laughter and conversation ring in the air. It makes you somewhat sad to not be home for this. But as they say, living in a big city can only be done if you sell your soul to it.
You’re directly above the level one city plaza, the people below looking unsettling in the way they’re so small and far away—they don’t even seem human at this distance. You wonder if you look like that to the people above this, to the level three elites who sit on top of the whole city..
You look back to your companion, who’s transfixed on the bakery across the road—either that, or just really, really zoned out. Knowing Yangyang, it could be either. When you tilt your head, waiting, you find that he has pretty features—a shaped nose and round, curious eyes, all in perfect alignment with plump, pink lips. His metallic ring earrings shine when the light hits them right. No wonder you get girls asking how close the two of you are often. Even in a world pushing manufactured love, boys like him make others daydream. You wonder why you’re the one he loves to drag in with him.
Yangyang flinches when he finds you staring at him. You clear your throat, looking away and hoping you can sweep this under the rug.
“Are you- are you by any chance mad at me?” he asks, a nervous smile awkwardly tugging at his lips.
“I- what? No. I’m not mad at you.”
“You look like my mother when I don’t clean my room. Or Ten's cats when I try to kiss them.”
A tiny laugh escapes you before you get back your poised demeanor. “I’m- I’m not mad at you.”
He smiles at you wordlessly and you feel a little conscious. You glance outside when the plaza music starts to get loud and look back at him, debating whether you should just give in.
“So… you’ll let me brighten your life now?” he asks in his regular baritone, grinning wider. “The semester’s over and it’s festival time! I bring good luck, I promise.”
Liu Yangyang is not a happy serendipity. He simply cannot be. However, he does make you laugh more often than you’d admit.
“Whatever. Go ahead. I just don’t want to be hungover on a Friday.”
“You don’t- you don’t have to drink to have a good time.” He laughs. “I would know. I’m sort of a lightweight. I don’t know why I told you that. I’m supposed to be cool.”
You giggle, taking a moment to think.
“Fine then. Show me your magical access key to our beloved Mobius Strip, the mightiest, grandest structure in all of New Shanghai.”
“Well, if you put it that way… I am pretty cool, huh?”
His smile is too harmless for you to roll your eyes. He’s too gentle, you realize all of sudden, to be as awful as all the uni frat boys you’ve had the misfortune of talking to. You watch him as he drives; his arm moves with ease and he tries to make conversation but you can only hum and respond in singular words. The closer you are to the Strip the more nervous you get. It’s like visiting all those dark places that your mother explicitly warned you not to visit as a teenager—but you’re an adult now. No one owns you. No one should be able to own you. The determination builds up slowly over neon lights and hazy street shops.
Nights here are the fun part. Everyone says that. Other than the fact that you can barely make out the colour of the sky under the vivid city lights, there’s something very enticing about the streets, the upper streets that wind around the city.
Yangyang drives the car to a level three street, the behemoth structure of the Strip now so close that all you can see beyond your window are its placid, white walls stretching out to infinity. You can see little gardens and shops, peeking out from between each strip and one of the shopkeepers wave at you the moment you pass. Yangyang says something along the lines of “thanks for the free noodles” to the woman, before gliding higher.
“Grandma makes the best glass noodles here,” he says, excitedly. “I’ll take you sometime. If you like.”
You hum, noting the joy he expresses at the idea of something so simple.
Level three streets are already thousand and a half feet above the ground. You try not to look down; heights aren’t something you’re very fond of even if you love the sky. You note construction work for street levels four and five, shivering at the idea. The winds of change are fucking cold.
Yangyang swerves the car off-road at one point and you clutch his arm by reflex.
“What the fuck? Don’t do that without warning me,” you say, breathing quicker. You do not do well with: sudden movement, jumpscares and boys with pretty smiles.
“Sorry,” he says, looking at you with concern. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You let go of his arm, more embarrassed at yourself than mad at him. Driving the car closer to the Strip, he brakes carefully by the parking lot. The walls are covered in red wallpaper, a few lanterns attached to drones, floating along the path inside. It looks like a rooftop parking lot, though the mysterious dim lighting makes you walk closer to Yangyang.
“I heard this is gonna be a really cool event—they’ve got the latest AI tech hosting and crap but let me tell you the best part.”
He pauses for dramatic effect.
“The food!” He says, spreading his arms and grinning. “The food at private events is the best thing you’ll ever taste.”
You open your mouth but close it again in part horror, part confusion. “You’re… taking me to a private event?”
“Ah, don’t look like that. It’s really fun, promise.”
“I’m not even dressed for it,” you blurt, embarrassed.
Yangyang shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. It’s for rich kids, you know? If I’m being honest, none of them know how to dress.”
His confident statement gets a giggle out of you and you relax a little. You walk with him, further into the square platform and away from the cars. The sky disappears behind the dark roof and for a moment, you feel like you’ve entered a different dimension. It’s like the architecture models that your professors had on display for the Shanghai History class in your freshman year. Old stuff, that is. Before this place even had the first skyscraper.
You turn to your side and narrow your eyes at Yangyang, suddenly wondering how he finagled his way into bringing you here. Your iron-clad will is not so much iron after all. It’s not even steel, you think, once you catch yourself staring at Yangyang a bit too long.
You step forward to find the entrance to the club; it’s a little lonely to look at in the beginning. Then it clicks that it’s probably the back door. The red pillars encase a black door between them, the overhang of the gateway just a little above Yangyang’s head. You can see the hip-and-gable style roof of the larger building behind, looking like a skyscraper instead of the usual historical buildings you’ve seen on the internet. In glowing red letters, it displays a blinking ‘Club 2’ near the top of the door.
The moment you step on the stairs, a bunch of advertisements pop up on the door, bright bubblegum colours hurting your eyes. Yangyang taps at the little x at the corner of the display till it disappears and finally the door is a regular door. The colour is jet black like any other screening platform.
“I thought the rich were exempted from ads,” you say.
“They’re… more likely to buy things though.”
You make an ‘ah’ sound in contemplation when a whirring makes you jump into him. A little spherical drone flies its way out of an opening in the wall and stops right in front of the two of you.
“Sicheng-ge!” Yangyang says, waving frantically at the camera.
The little drone circles around Yangyang’s head before stopping right in front of his face. It runs a scan before turning sharply and beeping at you.
“My plus one!” Yangyang declares, pulling you by the waist. “Or whatever it’s called.”
Your ears feel warm but you don’t push him off. The camera focuses on your face, likely scanning to identify your age and occupation. When it’s done, a beep resounds and the door slides open to reveal a dimly lit pathway. The main entrance is much brighter, Yangyang promises, but for now it’s just the warm glow of the lanterns, Yangyang’s neon red striped jacket and the mechanical whirring of some sort of device in the darkness.
“What’s that sound?” you whisper and Yangyang stops.
He pauses to think. “Oh, they’re Sicheng-ge’s drones. He’s got like a million of them. I'll introduce you—he’s hosting this club event, by the way.”
He smiles at you reassuringly. If Yangyang’s not bothered by it, you’ll follow his lead. Though, you do take more nimble steps and stay close to him like he’s your lighthouse. (In a way, he is, with all that neon shining on his jacket.)
You’re surprised to find a garden, but then it gets stranger when you see brighter lanterns in the middle area. You see figures and before you can react, Yangyang takes your hand and into the central platform.
ii. orchid club square
Yangyang was right. None of them know how to dress.
The two of you stand in the middle of a crowd, who are in fact dressed either for: a) an impromptu pool party or b) a Sunday morning lecture. You blend in somewhat well given the variety though Yangyang’s painted looks have attracted the attention of quite a few giggling, murmuring onlookers.
You clench your jaw in mild annoyance.
“This is a tour,” Yangyang whispers to you. “I thought… you’d like to know what everything’s about.”
You feel grateful to him for once. Having some sort of knowledge about what you’re getting into makes you feel better about any situation. A set of mechanical clicking fills the air.
A woman—no, an AI bot is the first to greet you. She has pale white metallic skin and her dark strands of hair are in a traditional updo. Her lips are imperial red, shaped in a way that makes her seem as though she’s smiling but also not at the very same time. She holds an extravagant fan by her face at the perfect right angle, the patterns on it painted to imitate an ancient cherry blossom tree.
“Good evening, everyone,” she says, her voice pitched up and enthusiastic. It’s a little funny to imagine metal so lively.
You smell oranges and lavender as soon as she flicks her fan once and precise.
“Welcome to the New Shanghai nightlife!” The bot continues jovially. “The oldest surviving city on planet earth, the birthplace of the human race.”
“You are in virtual space,” she informs. “It might look like a courtyard stretching to infinity but it is only an illusion. However, the club is five hundred and sixty one metres wide and six hundred and twelve metres long. It is large enough to hold twenty-one blue whales in a line. That is, if they still existed of course.”
She giggles algorithmically.
“Where you stand right now,” she says, turning her head in a swift mechanical motion to you and you flinch. “This place is called the orchid club square. As you know, only VIP access lets you in.”
You glance at Yangyang worriedly and he shrugs. There’s no way she could know, right? That was oddly specific. But then she moves her head left to right to address the whole crowd in perfect grace. When her movement starts to get a little too eerie to watch any longer, you fix your eyes on the garden instead. You have no way of telling part real flowers from virtual ones and even so—all of them are beautiful. Maybe reality doesn’t make things any prettier.
However, when you look at Yangyang, the thought gets tossed out. You shake your head, in an attempt to get rid of the image of his face. It’s a little too late to be feeling this way. Either that, or the night is taking its toll on you already. The day was exhausting, considering it was the end of the semester.
The AI guide’s chatter fades into something quieter when you move the club square. It’s a rather empty space, fitting for a rave or just housing large crowds. The decorations are for the new year celebrations, banners of the ox in auspicious colours and a few drones projecting the rest. There’s a garden of evermore orchids lining the area in a perfect square and it’s so precise that it’s pleasing to look at. There’s a door at one edge, similar to the one you encountered before entering the club square.
The music that wafts through the air is so gentle, you almost forget there’s a celebration. The beat makes it livelier and even so, the rhythm of your heartbeat matches it in a soothing sort of way. Turning around, you spot the musical ensemble. It’s another AI, peering over a guqin with trained habit.
She looks the same, except she wears an electronic mask over the lower half of her face. It displays a blue musical note made up of noticeable pixels. She has no fan—instead, her fingers strum the guqin rhythmically, programmed with precision and grace. The sound is accompanied by the woodwind notes of a flute, though you’re not sure where that sound emanates from. There’s also a soft drumbeat which seems to come from the guqin bot herself.
You gasp when a few painted goldfish float through the air, almost real to look at if it weren’t for the glitch effect of holograms. One of them swims closer to you, opening and closing its mouth in rhythm and you giggle at its face.
Yangyang laughs, long finger pointing at the critter in amusement. “That’s adorable.”
He looks like a little kid and you giggle at his expression, with wide, delighted eyes and mouth open in focused mirth. He pokes at the goldfish and it makes a bubbling sound, gears shifting in ticking time before suddenly biting at his index finger. Yangyang lets out a low yelp, retracting his hand before clearing his throat in embarrassment.
“You’re like a cartoon,” you tell him, in between laughs. “No way are you real.”
He grins, in that same way he always looks at you and you look away, feeling hot in the face. It’s too enamored a way to look at someone. But of course, that couldn’t be true—he’s Liu Yangyang and you’re you. Parallel lines do not meet, even if they’re headed in the same direction.
“I think you’re unreal,” he mumbles.
iii. club 2
The doors open to a rather spacious arrangement, with several tables one one side and a sort of dance arena on the other where people are trying to out-dance each other. The intensity makes you move further away from it. It seems a little too festive and you can feel the energy slinking away from you. The music is more upbeat but you suppose the DJ tried to make it sound more eastern; the result is pleasing. He wears a smooth black helmet with a neon red beat visualizer on it, with written SFX appearing from time to time. Two pulsing golden horns glow at the sides of his head. You stare at it for longer than you’d like before composing yourself. You’re very impressionable when it comes to parties.
There are two floors to the club, above the bottom floor itself. The other two floors mostly seem to consist of private booths, however, covered with gossamer silk that glow iridescent. A few floating lanterns sway by the upper floors. The ceiling is open to a midnight blue sky and the stars look much larger than you’ve ever seen them—you suspect it’s an AR mesh over the ceiling. A few light shows project little dancing dragons and coins over the sky and you find them too cute to not stare at.
“Wow,” Yangyang says, right after walking in. “Why is Dejun on the table?”
You look where his eyes are focused on, though it’s difficult through the crowd of people, and find Dejun and Kunhang in some sort of old anime transformation pose atop one of the tables. It’s surprising that they’re not the weirdest pair here.
“Now, bear with me, it’s going to be boring as hell till the countdown and the fireworks,” he explains, waving his hands around. “But it’s a good place to have fun and make friends. You know?”
“Friends?” you ask, a little nervous. You’re not very proficient at making friends and it makes you anxious.
“Yeah! Don’t worry. ” He makes a strange gesture, bordering between posing for a beer ad campaign and looking like a motivational speaker for the army, before furrowing his eyebrows. “You just have to be confident! I’m learning too!”
He lets out a sweet laugh and it makes you laugh in turn, hand covering your mouth so you don’t embarrass yourself too much. You don’t believe the words much, but the glow over his cheeks makes you reconsider.
“You look really nice when you laugh,” he comments, a bright glint in his eyes.
“Whatever,” you reply, punching his shoulder lightly.
Just then, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder to find Lana from your ethical AI class, smiling at you warmly. She looks a little tired, of people more than the time. Like you, she is also a scholarship student—and not a day has gone when she hasn’t soothed your anxiety about your classes. In stark contrast with Yangyang, you would trust her over him for most tasks. Even if you weren’t partners, you’re okay with the outcome. You glance at Yangyang.
“(name)! Oh my god, I didn’t know you were coming here,” she says. “Did Yangyang kidnap you?”
“I mean, sort of.”
“Hey.” Yangyang looks at you with betrayal.
“And how did you even manage to do that cool ass project with him as your partner?” she continues, squinting at him.
“Honestly, I don’t know either. He can be surprisingly helpful though.”
Yangyang looks from Lana to you in exasperation. “I’m literally right here,” he grumbles.
Lana laughs at his expression, patting his shoulder sympathetically.
“I just can’t believe you let him kidnap you and not me,” she says in mock indignance. “I’m a much better chauffeur, you know?”
“Do you even have a driving license?” Yangyang asks, laughing.
“I got mine before you, rat. Anyway, (name), I’m playing the guzheng. Do you wanna come see?”
“No,” Yangyang interrupts, suddenly grabbing your hand. “I… I mean you guys can go, of course. It's just the countdown’s close, so we have to go to the viewpoint.”
“That’s exactly where—ah. I see.”
"We'll join you another time, Lana," he says quietly, a cute grin on his face like a little boy would make to an older sister for more shares of chocolate.
"No, no. I actually remembered I left my friends in the corner. See you!"
She leaves her epiphany unsaid, offering you a smile and taking her leave abruptly.
“I thought you told me to socialize,” you complain to Yangyang.
“Yes, I’m so proud of you for that.”
“Yangyang, I swear if you treat me like a kid—”
“I’m not, I’m not. Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I just need to borrow you for tonight. After all, I promised you, didn’t I?”
You sigh. “Fine then, what’s this viewpoint you’re talking about?”
“Oh, we’ll get there.”
Someone’s watching you. You turn around a full three-sixty but find only the same crowd of college-age kids. No one sticks out much, apart from Dejun, Kunhang and Ten, who are at this point performing some sort of strange ritual unbeknownst to any new year tradition, with a hell load of yelling.
“Oh my god, you’re dancing too?” Yangyang says, grinning ear to ear. “I didn’t know I’d have that much of a positive influence. Wow.”
“I’m- I’m not- never mind.”
Yangyang furrows his eyebrows. “What did I tell you? More confidence! See—”
He takes your hands in his, pulling you further onto the dance floor. You feel a rising panic but swallow it. There’s a beat of silence in which the two of you look at each other. Yangyang proceeds to perform the stupidest sequence of movements you have ever seen, certainly too awkward for his body to accept as natural but it doesn’t seem like he cares. He’s having fun.
You find yourself laughing. Taking timid steps, you try to loosen up although the inevitable embarrassment arrives in flushes of heat across your face. There are stars in Yangyang’s eyes when you join him—not the artificial jewels in observatories but the real kind that you used to see in your hometown.
You take a wobbly step back. It’s starting to get disorienting. If it were the real sky above you, you might even have felt better. Perhaps the purpose is to get dizzy.
“I’m a little thirsty,” Yangyang says, motioning to the table with food and drinks at a corner. “I’ll head over and be back.”
Unsure what to do, you follow him like a lost lamb and though it would be embarrassing at any other time, any other place, now and here are not part of that.
The red and golden lights of the neon patterning the walls don’t seem as harsh anymore and you let your eyes rest on the boyish figure of Yangyang. You haven’t figured him out yet. Something tells you he’s more than a shallow image of the party-loving rich kids of Shanghai. In fact, in quiet, personal moments, he looks more out of place than you do—despite all that bright neon. You open your mouth to ask something when you’re interrupted by a dizzy Yangyang spinning into you.
“Sorry, (name),” he says, rubbing the base of his palm against his forehead. “I genuinely thought I was going to win that game.”
You shake your head, letting him get back to whatever spinning game they were at. He smells like wine and something tells you he’s poor at holding his liquor. The stakes must be high for that game, you figure, because you see Yangyang set aside his beloved shoe on the floor. To be the only scholarship student here suddenly feels scary and awkward.
Yangyang once again tugs at your arm, the touch reassuring as though he understands how you feel. But it isn’t true. There’s no way someone like him can understand someone like you.
“Yangyang,” you call. “Do you come here every year?”
“No, no. I do come for drinks though. I’m only here right now because a friend is hosting this.”
You shrug.
“And you,” he adds and you feel a hot flush rise to your face. “New years are the only time this place is PG-13.”
“I’m not a child,” you snap.
“My mom says childish people say that.”
“Then it's very rich coming from you, Liu Yangyang.”
He laughs heartily, leaning away. A creeping thought grows in your head that you missed out on a lot. But then again, you’ll always miss out on things if you’re not rich enough for them.
Yangyang flinches suddenly, almost knocking a plate off the table. He moves quickly, turning so that his side leans against the wall and the other arm cages you between him and the wall. His frame covers your view from whatever, or whoever arrived at the entrance that made him react so obnoxiously.
However, his lips hovering just a little over yours makes your breath hitch in your throat. This is the worst possible position you could've gotten into. The smell of mint interrupts your thoughts and you look at him with as annoyed an expression as you can muster over the heat of your face.
"Yangyang, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
“I am… admiring the wall. Ooh, it’s got velvet over it, did you notice?”
“You’re going to have your head in it too if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
"Just… sorry. Let’s stay like this for a few moments."
He flashes you an apologetic smile, his face close enough to make yours grow even hotter. A nervous chuckle erupts from his lips.
"Oh my god, get off. People are going to think we’re making out."
"We could do it for real."
"I'm going to scratch your eyes out."
"Sorry, sorry."
“Who are you even hiding from?”
“I’m not hiding… okay, forget that. Bodyguard-watcher-dude. It’s kind of hard to explain.”
“You have a bodyguard?”
“More like a babysitter.”
You try not to laugh, considering the proximity between your faces. “How come you have a babysitter? Actually, wait, I think I know.”
He huffs over your face and you restrain yourself from landing a swift uppercut to his jaw. Now you know the minty smell comes from mouth freshener.
“He’s a prosecutor. It’s weird that he stalks me in his free time. Even- even if… my parents are paying him.”
“They think you’re doing something illegal?”
“No. I don’t think I am.”
You rest your head back against the wall, rolling your eyes. “Really? That’s your answer? God, your brain cells rotted somewhere along the way, didn’t they? It’s all those parties.”
“I’m starting to feel like my mom hired you too.”
He looks back, and noting the absence of his so-called babysitter, he pulls back from you. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath and you let it out in a shallow effort.
“Your babysitter’s gone?”
“Not a babysit—I regret saying that. Look, I really don’t think they appointed him because they think I’m doing something illegal. I have never done anything illegal. Except that one street race but that’s because Lucas told me it was perfectly legal.”
“The what?”
“Anyway, the point is, let’s look forward to good fortune for this year, hm? Leave all the burdens to last year.”
“Fortune doesn’t favour fools.”
“I’m not stupid,” he complains, spreading his arms to express it further. “Mostly.”
You laugh, turning your attention to the food table.
“Ooh, pineapple tarts,” he exclaims, hand reaching out to grab one when you smack it.
“You’ve had, like, fifteen already.”
“Mhm,” he says, with a few more stuffed in his mouth.
There’s a pause.
“It’s me, isn't it?” you ask quietly. “I’m not supposed to be here.”
He gulps, lips parting and closing. “I brought you here. So you don’t worry about it.”
Rich people suck. You believe that strongly. But sometimes, just sometimes, when you have everything you can ever want, you start to want the same for everyone around you. Some people are special. You find Yangyang genuinely fascinating for being someone who makes friends when he’s supposed to be making more connections. You find him fascinating.
It makes sense for someone like him to be the way he is.
iv. fireworks viewpoint
“That’s the old Shanghai Tower,” Yangyang points to a building in the distance. “It used to be the tallest building once but… well, it looks like the little guy now.”
Lunar New Year’s celebrations are a big, big deal in New Shanghai. It means a break from university, work and every other affair to have as many priorities sorted in anticipation of the new year. And the impact is evident from this height, when you can see the city in its golden glory. It looks warm out there for once—although you’re not very sure if it’s because of the warmth that comes from right beside you. The little wooden boats float by on the river a little far off, various images blooming as holograms above them. You giggle at the large animated fishes swimming above the river with blank expressions and painted button eyes.
The golden clock shines bright in the sky, its holographic hands ticking down to midnight. It looks like something out of a fantasy movie, scattering golden pixels everywhere with each minute passing. The size of it alone reminds you of the scale of this city.
This is an empire. It's owned by the kings and queens who built it over the bones left from sacrifices. It's going to be owned by heirs and heiresses. You feel a looming sense of dread come over you. It's so beautiful and it can never belong to itself. It must always belong to someone. It’s the terms and conditions of human creation.
"Hey." Yangyang taps you on the shoulder and you try not to flinch. "What are you thinking?"
You hum. "Stuff."
"This place is pretty cool, huh?"
That, you can agree with. "It is. It's so amazing that I can't believe I'm here sometimes."
Yangyang laughs slowly. "I hope more people can live here. Not in level one. You know. No one should live in desperation."
You hold back a scoff, though you end up frowning. What does a rich kid know of desperation? He might as well be prince, and princes do not know how to beg. It must be something of a saviour complex. You shrink away from him. The new year music is starting to ring a little too loud in your ears.
"That would be difficult," you mutter.
"Not if you lower the cost of living conditions—ah. Sorry." He pauses and you feel a flicker of surprise in you. “It’s not appropriate to discuss. Or so my parents tell me…”
The expression comes from empathy. You’re sure of it. There’s some sort of passion and not the kind of coloured fire that flames up in parties, but a different one. The kind that says, if you can’t bear the heat then you can’t learn how to forge. You scoff. Which prince has possibly known heat?
“I- I get angry too,” you say quietly. “I think it’s something to be angry about.”
He smiles at you, leaning against the balcony railing.
You’re interrupted by a man in the attire of a waiter and it causes the two of you to jump away from each other. It’s not like you were very close in the first place but the proximity of shared words can play tricks on people. The man offers the two of you a screen and Yangyang’s face lights up almost immediately.
“We can order food with this,” he says. “Or book a table. The top strips are all reserved for members of the club. That’s the big daddy restaurants.”
“That’s… pretty cool,” you say, leaning in to glance over the browsing menu. “But don’t say that phrase to me again.”
“I can. And I will.”
“Ugh. Move on.”
“Okay, so we should drop by the convenience store for some ramen. I heard they taste better in the middle of the night,” Yangyang suggests all of a sudden, leaning in further.
It gets difficult sometimes to not be bothered by him, especially when there is a lack of distance. You look at him, pause and then sigh. “Sure. I guess. Are those free too?”
He opens his mouth in sudden realization and grins sheepishly at you. You roll your eyes.
“Do you have money then?”
“Uh.”
“How do you not have money? It’s the New Year!”
“I… uh—”
“Okay, you don’t have to answer that. But I’m not paying for you,” you complain. “You could always ask your parents for some money. What’s the point of being a party kid?”
‘Party kids’—it makes you laugh in amusement—is the colloquial term given to the children of businesspeople who had a direct hand in the economic progress of New Shanghai. You would sell your kidneys to be one and it still wouldn’t be enough.
His smile wavers at your statement but he shakes his head. “If I call my mom, she’ll start scolding me again about how my apartment room needs to be cleaner. Blah, blah, blah. You know.”
“She’s right- wait, you don’t clean your room?”
“Don’t take her side, (name).”
You bite down a smile and he offers you his biggest one.
“Oh, that place looks new,” Yangyang exclaims, a long index finger pointing to the preview of a sushi restaurant. You glare at him, his face nearer to yours than you would prefer but his eyes are fixed like a child ogling halloween candy.
“Let’s go,” he urges, looking directly at you.
You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head vehemently. “We don’t have money. Or bit-credits.”
He sighs, deflating as though you just snatched the candy right from his hands. “But… I haven’t been there before.”
“So?” You exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You don’t have to try every food place in the city.”
“I need to eat,” he says as though it’s a very reasonable response. “I’m still growing!”
“Not mentally.”
He drops his smile, looking at you blankly. “You don’t have to get so smart with me, let me tell you.”
You snicker at the ‘offended’ expression on his face.
In the next moment, your attention shifts to the sudden crowd of people rushing to the balcony. Yangyang pulls you closer to avoid getting pushed by them, and you look around confused. It all makes sense when they start chanting the numbers, counting down from ten. You can only stare in awe at the clock and the otherworldly glee in the rhythmic chants. It’s like they don’t feel anything but joy at this moment. You let yourself smile.
The clock strikes twelve. The sound of the bell resounds throughout the city and the firecrackers burst into a thousand shades of red and gold across the sky. There’s moving images of animals, floating text and other animations which make the night sky seem like a screen. The sparks of the fireworks look like golden snow, or even happy little pixels.
You point your finger to the sky excitedly but when you turn, Yangyang’s eyes aren’t on the sky but on your hand outstretched towards it. He faces you, rather hesitantly as though caught red-handed.
“You’re- you’re… so pretty,” he says, softly and shrugging as if answering a question.
You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that. It’s the lonely speaking, right? The euphoria of human connection in this time and age—it can make you believe anything. There’s a myriad of colours blooming in the sky behind you, a city dazzling with diamond and ruby lights, people with much more stories to tell than you do. This city, this city, this city. This city will break your heart.
“It’s kind of crappy,” you mutter, to which Yangyang quirks an ear.
“Wh-what is?”
“This city. It’s got bright lights and fun and all those promises of success. But all I see are people desperately trying to survive. All I see are the same faces at the top and—I’m sorry. I’m getting carried away.”
“No, no.” He makes a vague gesture. “I’m listening.”
“We’re at their mercy,” you whisper. “My life is not my own. That’s crappy.”
Yangyang hums in response. “You're right. What’s the point of living a life that’s not your own?”
Looking at him again, you see the entire figure of his being against the fireworks and all the beautiful creations of the human race. His almost silver hair falls perfectly by his forehead, the contact lenses looking like glazed frost over his eyes. Just as vibrant and excessive as the city itself, Yangyang belongs here. This is his kingdom.
No, that’s not quite right perhaps. Yangyang belongs anywhere because he brings warmth. You're suddenly grateful he's with you because no one you know would possibly go out of their way to make you feel comfortable like this. You know Yangyang loves people and crowds. No one would do that for you at the expense of their own enjoyment. You smile at the prospect of solving the blinding mystery that he is.
"We… should leave," Yangyang says, all of a sudden. He eyes a man at the corner of the balcony, dressed in a business suit and looking blank. He sticks out like a sore thumb. You're not sure why he's in that getup.
"Okay," you say, not sure why you're so agreeable tonight.
Maybe it's the night. Sometimes all you can do is drag your feet over the asphalt and hope it'll be sunnier tomorrow.
v. two-four-seven convenience store
College boys are the most god-awful creatures on earth.
“Hey, do you always reach class on time?” Yangyang asks, eyes curious. He keeps asking a question every five minutes or so, trying to keep up conversation. You've already told him he doesn't have to. However, it makes you strangely comfortable to hear the sound of his voice periodically. You won't tell him that.
You nod, returning your gaze to the window, though the advertisements block your view. You can always try skipping the ad every five goddamn seconds.
It's your first time riding the train that travels through the Mobius Strip, and certainly the first time in a luxury cabin. Since it’s free for members of the new year club, you can heave a sigh of relief. You will never in your life, even if it’s genetically elongated, ever be able to afford a luxury cabin.
"Oh, that looks so good," Yangyang says, large hand smacking against the window to get rid of the colourful advertisements.
"It's a convenience store, Yangyang," you say. "It's got everyday ramen."
"No, look. It's a different brand. And they're giving a burger for free with two ramen cups!"
You furrow your eyebrows at him. "Well, I guess it's cheaper too."
"Oh, we can go to one of the upper restaurants too. They're free, remember?"
"I like convenience stores," you mumble. There's something about the lack of even lighting and crowds that made them a comfort spot for you.
“Quick,” he says, pulling you off the seat when the train stops.
“Yangyang!” you warn. He's so easily excitable that you find it hard to believe he's real sometimes.
However, when he turns around with his big puppy-dog eyes, you curse at yourself before you curse at him. Sighing, you follow him down the steps, his hand tenderly holding yours. Sometimes, you wonder if the human touch means anything at all in this diamond and steel era. Yangyang’s palm is warm against yours.
The ramen tastes awfully delicious on stolen time, and you would complain more if it weren’t for Yangyang looking at you with so serene a look. It annoys you and you try to grab his attention by waving your chopsticks in front of him. When it doesn’t work, you resort to swearing. You’ve never seen anyone respond with a smiling hum after being told to “eat shit”.
“Oh, this tastes so good,” he states, cheeks puffed with food. “I think I’m going to cry.”
“I- I think you’re crying because it’s spicy.”
“Oh.”
As usual, Yangyang pokes and prods at you with questions about your daily life, like you’re the most interesting thing in a city full of blinding lights, world-class robots and cyber-enhanced technology. You don’t understand how he doesn’t just grow tired of asking every single detail about you.
Apart from the fact that Liu Yangyang is most certainly an environmental hazard, some part of you cannot believe that he's truly terrible. There's something innocent about him, but all at once, something quiet and mysterious.
“Why are you always so curious, Yangyang?” you ask finally. “Why are you always running off to different places?”
“Because experiences never come twice,” he answers after some thinking. It seems to be a little difficult for him to articulate, deep contemplation over his features when he continues. “This city… all the lights and clubs and arenas, all of it will be gone someday. Like we don’t have telephones or those big computers anymore.”
You rest your chin on your palm, leaning in.
“This moment, right here with you… I’ll never experience it again,” he tells you. “We can have more midnight convenience store ramen sometime later but… each time will be different. I’d rather live now.”
You smile softly. “That’s a funny thought to live by.”
“Yours isn’t any better,” he says, patting your head. “Also, I’m like hot and young and popular and not a cyborg—how can I miss parties?”
You shake your head, laughing. He’s ridiculous. He’s completely ridiculous. In that moment, when you look at him, Yangyang seems to be smiling in a daze, eyes on your face.
“You look nice when you smile,” he says quietly.
"Thanks," you respond. "I should keep it a secret then, huh?"
"Not from me," he says, smiling.
Somehow, the extra minutes you have at the convenience store turn to a few multiplayer games and then, ditching technology, to an arm wrestling match.
"I feel like this game is kind of unfair," you say after losing almost immediately. He's clearly got stronger muscles. Does he work out? Probably against his will, you bet.
“My right arm’s a lot stronger than my left arm,” he says, before looking a little horrified. “That wasn’t a masturbation joke, by the way. I am so sorry.”
You roll your eyes. "Give me your left hand then- wait. You're right-handed?"
"That's not the- uh." He thinks for a moment, trying to gather words. “That’s not the reason.”
“I, uh, I heavily damaged this arm when I was a kid—don’t look like that, there’s a fun part to this. It’s made of titanium! And some other things. The names are too complicated.”
You drive your fingers over the arm, so warm and real and flushed red, anything but metal and code. You find curiosity blooming in you more than ever before.
“You know why I’m not with family,” you say, straightening. “But why aren’t you celebrating with your family?”
He gets quiet, thinking to himself for a few more moments. You almost regret asking when he answers, a hesitant sound leaving him first.
“None of us, uh… none of our parents can spare more than three hours. They’ll come in the afternoon tomorr—today.”
You can’t exactly respond to that very well.
“So all of us go hang out at the New Year’s Club.”
You frown. "But it's not a celebration without family!"
"We have new year lunches. And… it's the future. Traditions die. Very few grieve them for fear of being stuck in the past."
You feel partly horrified and partly dismal. "I… You could come with me next year, if you like."
You're not sure where the offer comes from but Yangyang lights up at the idea.
"I can? Oh, we'll have so much fun!"
"Slow down. There's a year to go."
Yangyang laughs. It's surprising the way he turned out. He must have gotten tired of waiting by the door. And now you know all the things about him that his parents don’t.
You smile at him, warming up to the idea of you and him as friends before scoffing at it again.
Right in the next moment, Yangyang dips suddenly to the ground, crouching below the table. You look around in surprise and fall to your knees with a yelp at the tug on our wrist from Yangyang.
“What the hell?” you hiss. “You’re starting to act really weird.”
“I- Sorry. It’s an emergency,” he says, but there’s no sign of distress in his voice. He simply smiles at you. Perhaps he’s never heard of the emotion as of yet.
“Your babysitter?”
“I say that once and on accident—yes, it’s my babysitter.”
You chuckle. He’s simply too cute at times.
“We have to be discreet now, okay? It’s like—what’s the movie called? Oh, Mission Impossible.”
“I’ve never seen that.”
“What? How can you not? It’s a classic! It’s got so many cool—ah, I’ll show you another time.”
You hum, staring at Yangyang’s facial features tense up and relax again as he scans the vicinity outside the window of the convenience store. It’s full of people, even at this hour so you can’t possibly know who’s looking at you from there.
Yangyang turns back to you. “Have you ever been to blue moon station?”
“The one with the pretty walls? No. No, I’ve never even gone beyond Strip Two.”
Yangyang smiles at you and right then, you feel like you’re about to resent whatever’s going to happen next. It’s in the ebb and flow of tonight’s itinerary, however, and you relax your shoulders just as he does a roll across the floor, looking back at you with a grin for executing it flawlessly.
“You’re so silly,” you mutter.
“I heard that,” he whisper-shouts back.
You’re not as afraid as before, you realize. The lights are absolutely mesmerizing.
vi. blue moon station
It drops a few degrees in temperature once you step foot onto the platform. You can see a bunch of scattered tourists, cameras hanging around their neck and a look of awe over their faces.
Yangyang takes off his jacket, shivering immediately but offering it to you nonetheless. When you refuse, he places it gingerly over your shoulders.
"Is that a…?"
"A tourist bot, yes."
"Oh my god, it's so cute," you say, crouching by the little red robot, a teal-colored smiley face popping up on its monitor.
"A lot of tourists in this station," you note.
"Yeah. It's very… visually pleasing."
That's true. The walls are screens with three dimensional graphics, immersive enough to catch one's eye. A single tree grows through the middle of the station, evergreen and alive with holographic flora and fauna. The sun shines eternally over the tree. It's so beautiful that you had trouble taking your eyes off it at first.
The walls next to you are currently displaying a walk through a fantasy forest, crafted by a visionary artist, no doubt. A blue butterfly flies past you and you stare at it before zoning out.
Sometimes, the lights are too disorienting. You start to feel dizzy, massaging your forehead when Yangyang brushes the tips of his fingers against your shoulder.
“You good?”
Yangyang crouches beside you with watchful eyes.
You nod, turning your attention to the tourist bot. It displays a plethora of information about the architecture of this place which you're sure no tourist will bother to read beyond the first two lines.
“You can make it do cool tricks too,” Yangyang says. “Watch.”
Yangyang pokes at it with his index finger, drawing a pattern over the screen. The bot proceeds to do an old internet dance, waving about its arms and hips. You laugh at it and Yangyang looks at you with the pride of a third grader with first place on their science project.
The colours on the walls change and you see the animation of a man and a fox, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to recall that image. They seem to be broadcasting fables through the holograms. You can’t deny that they’re pretty—glowing with auspicious colours and as animated as the real world itself. As if by compulsion, you hold Yangyang’s hand. It’s nice to feel the human touch real once in a while, especially in the overwhelming loneliness of city nights.
Yangyang looks at you brightly and right then, you feel less inclined to leave him.
“You know, I could teach you better ways to flirt than just grab my hand,” he says, grinning like an idiot.
“What?”
You move your hand. “I’m not flirting.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he responds quickly. “Can I please have your hand back?”
You shake your head, laughing. He worries you. Some part of you says you shouldn’t be worried. It’s not like you’re close friends. (Friends, maybe. Close, not yet.)
The night has a different opinion.
—
“Found you,” a voice declares, and the two of you jump into each other with a scream.
The man in the suit looks at you with a fatigued look in his eyes, hair somehow still neat though he breathes like his lungs are on fire.
“Care to tell me why you’ve been skipping my calls?” he asks after catching his breath. “It’s not like I wanted to follow you—you just needed to tell me.”
“I… I was busy?” Yangyang flashes a smile. “Kun-ge, I honestly had no idea you called. I don’t even have my phone.”
The man shakes his head. “Fine. Just head over to Jasmine for the night. And you can bring your date too.”
He gestures at you and you want to deny it as quick as you can. You do not, however. It’s almost like you’ve warmed up to the idea of it rather well.
“Okay,” Yangyang answers quietly.
vii. jasmine private lounge
You enter a lounge with the capacity of around a hundred people. Despite that, there are hardly five present. The walls are black with neon jasmines pulsating from blue to red. A grand piano lies still in all its elegance in the middle of the lounge, played by a plain white AI. It feels like an expensive place to be, and more so, it feels like someplace you’re not supposed to step foot into. There's a bar table at one side, opposite to the entrance which glows a hypnotizing purple. A flat lettering on the wall declares the time to be 3 A.M.
You and Yangyang sit a little too close on the artificially warmed couch, waiting for Kun to return. Yangyang reassures you that you haven't done anything wrong but the illicit outing of yours certainly says otherwise. You contemplate tasting the cocktail Yangyang ordered before finally giving in and find it pleasantly warm to taste. You take another sip.
“It’s a little strong,” Yangyang warns. “Don’t have all of—you had all of it.”
You shrug. Your throat certainly feels better now. This lounge is fucking cold.
"You know, Yangyang," you say with the warmth of confidence on your face. "You're a really nice guy."
He smiles incredulously. "Thanks. You're really nice too."
"And you're pretty decent-looking—"
"I know that."
"—and also popular. So why are you always hanging around me?"
"Uh, that's your question?"
You nod. Placing your cheek against your palm, you try not to sink into the couch.
"Because you're really cool!" He answers before clearing his throat. "I mean. I think you're fun to be around. You make me see things clearer."
"And what exactly are you wanting to see clearer?'
"You."
You blink aside your astoundment, straightening. "What?"
Your question is left unanswered because a man enters and sits across the two of you, a loud huff of annoyance leaving his mouth. It's not just his disposition but the architecture of his face that grabs your attention. He looks like an AI robot so perfectly crafted with coloured lips and flawless skin that you end up staring till Yangyang elbows you.
“He’s not an AI,” Yangyang whispers.
You furrow your brows and notice it is, in fact, true that he's not an AI. There are no ridges over the joints or hollowness in the eyes. He wears the same frost-patterned smart lenses as Yangyang does. However, it doesn't change the fact that the man is beautiful to look at.
“I’m never hosting a new year party again,” he mutters, sinking into the couch.
“It actually sounds kind of fun,” Yangyang interjects. “I can’t wait for my turn.”
“I’m sorry. Good luck standing at Longhua temple for three hours till midnight just to make sure nothing goes wrong. Without dinner.”
Yangyang makes a face at that.
"That's Sicheng-ge," he says, turning to you.
"Ah," you say in response, remembering the name vaguely.
"He let us into Club 2," Yangyang says, noticing your lost expression.
"I think Kun's looking for you," Sicheng says, eyes trained at the back.
His hands fidget with the dim blue buttons at the edge of the table, till a small compartment reveals itself under the glass. An old world-style cigarette is slowly pushed up and Sicheng picks it up. He offers the next one to Yangyang, who accepts it hesitantly. No one smokes tobacco anymore when nicotine is so readily available. Alas, human nature is to want things deadly and out of reach.
“So how’s Cat?” Yangyang asks, fumbling with the plasma lighter he picked from a compartment on the side.
Sicheng smiles a little, the smoke from his cigarette snaking around him as he raises a hand to dissipate it.
“She’s doing fine. Running everything as usual.”
“Of course. Boss lady.” Yangyang does an awkward salute.
“Oh, a new hair color too. As pretty as flower fields in the spring of ‘22.”
Sicheng’s lovesick rambling is interrupted by Yangyang hacking his lungs out. You turn to him and he avoids your gaze, reaching for a crystal blue glass of water one of the helper bots offer. So, he’s not even a smoker? Why did he think you would care?
“Anyway, Kun is glaring daggers at me now. You better get out of here.” Sicheng grimaces.
You turn around to see Kun by the bar table, gesturing towards Yangyang to come. You're not sure why but either of those men make you nervous.
"I'll be right back," Yangyang says, scrambling up and leaving you in a long awkward silence with Sicheng.
“So, uh, I’m assuming you’re oblivious to that lovestruck puppy following you around?” Sicheng asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or is this some game you guys are into? I’m not judging you for that.”
Your face heats up and you fidget with your collar. “The- A what? Game? Uh? I- huh?”
Sicheng tries to press down his smile but it’s evident enough for you to see. Did you say something funny? Did Yangyang say something funny about you? Oh, you’re going to kill him.
“For all that he talks, he’s kind of terrible at pulling together his own love life.”
“I- I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
It still unnerves you to look at him. He certainly looks more android than human when he’s not making any particular expression.
“Don’t mind me,” he says, offering you a reassuring smile. “You should find Yangyang before he lands the two of you in trouble.”
You turn to look at Yangyang through the glass and turn back nodding. Sicheng offers you a parting smile and you hesitantly make your way to the bar table.
"This isn't in my job description," Kun tells Yangyang just before you arrive. "I didn't know being a lawyer included babysitting."
The tips of Yangyang's ears heat up when he notices you.
"It's not babysitting," he murmurs. “Also, you’re not my mom.”
"You, Ten, Kunhang, all of you give me such a hard time," he continues but pauses right when he notices you.
"Oh, hello. (Name), isn't it?" He says, smiling politely. He's quite young and handsome for a lawyer. "Yangyang talks about you a lot."
"Oh," you respond. "Really?"
Yangyang glares at the older man. "You don't have to say everything, Kun-ge."
"You interested in law?" Kun asks, offering you a seat between him and Yangyang.
You make a face. The law is a tool for the rich and powerful. But then again, what isn’t? The world is in your hands when you have billions to spare. However, you still can’t imagine being a rich man's guard dog your whole life.
Kun chuckles. "You kids are interested in tech more, aren't you?"
Yangyang interrupts, "You talk like you're fifty years old."
Kun grimaces, resting his face against his hand. Shooting a glare at Yangyang, he finishes the rest of his wine.
You're not exactly interested in tech or engineering or the big kid jobs either. You just want a way to survive this man-made food chain. Rich eats the world till there’s nothing left on the plate. Then again, you'd rather be a pet than get eaten.
"Anyway," Kun turns to Yangyang. "If you see Ten, give me a call."
Yangyang signals with a thumbs up gesture, watching as Kun’s figure slowly makes its way out of the gate. It’s the two of you again and suddenly, you feel a strange sort of feeling overcome you. Leaning your throbbing forehead against Yangyang’s shoulder, you take some soft breaths and skip the part where you question your actions. It’s pleasant, at the very least. He shifts his chair closer, extending his arm around you so that your head rests against his shoulder more comfortably.
“You must be tired,” he mutters.
“You didn’t answer me,” you say. “Answer in a way I understood, at least.”
“Hm?”
“Why do you hang around me?”
“Do you not… want me to?”
“No. I like your company, actually. I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
Yangyang laughs. “You’re… you’re really perfect. As a person. At least to me, you seem that way.”
You scoff. “You’re a long way off there.”
“No. No, you felt like clockwork,” he continues. “When I first met you. I couldn’t believe you were real.”
You do work like a delirious robot on clockwork steroids. But you’re not very proud of it. You don’t think overworking is a good personality trait to have—even if it’s for survival. However, the faraway look in Yangyang’s eyes suggests that’s not what he means.
“I felt like I understood you,” he continues after a short pause.
You find it unbelievable. That’s the one sentence you could never imagine coming from him to you, much less agree with. But right then, as his warmth seeps into you, you want to agree desperately.
Yangyang feels an unexpected trickle of doubt down his throat. No matter how many times he’s practised in front of the mirror, the words don’t come out right when you’re with him. With everything you do, he feels more drawn in. There’s something familiar and something honest. And if he’s honest himself, he just likes you. What sort of a hypocrite should he be categorized as, to tell his friends to ‘just confess’ to their crushes when he’s a complete idiot when it comes to you? It can’t be that little voice from his childhood that tells him to stay in order.
Yangyang understands that there are rules to this world but he doesn’t get what those have got to do with him. He sighs, the sound somewhat grim when it comes from him.
"I've seen it before," he says, "People come from all over the country with hopes and dreams, and they get their hearts broken by capitalism."
You frown.
"I don't want you to go anywhere," he mumbles. "I hope you'll stay… even if- even if you feel like that, you know? If you're feeling lonely, I could—"
"Yangyang." You smile. "I’m quite comfortable here."
When you bury your nose into the crook of his neck, Yangyang thinks this is it. This is how he ends the sorry excuse of flirting he’s been trying with you and says something he regrets. It was never this difficult with the other crushes he’s had. He’s always left opening his mouth and then promptly closing it like a goldfish out of water every single time he wants to bring up dating with you. He’s always honest. So, what’s the big deal this time? This is so horrendously not cool of him.
You straighten. “We should get back home.”
“Can you- Can you not move so far from me, please?” Yangyang murmurs, hands gripping yours.
You smile, to yourself more to him but that’s one he likes the most.
“You’re a really interesting person, Yangyang.”
“I am?” He clears his throat and repeats the question.
“How are you so nice to people?”
“I think people are nice.”
“Why do you like parties?”
“They’re fun.”
“When the party’s over, who do you go to?” you ask, words mushing into each other.
“Home,” he answers, gulping down what seems like more words. “Like always.”
A hush falls between the two of you. You’re asking quite the questions.
“I’m sweaty,” you mutter. “I hate being sweaty.”
“You look wonderful though,” Yangyang mumbles, more to himself than to you. “Not that being sweaty makes you wonderful. You’re just nice.”
There’s another hush, the notes of the piano playing a faraway, romantic tune. He turns away and looks back at you again, but right in that moment, you lean forward to press your lips against his. It’s so sudden that he almost falls over backwards, his feet planted firmly on the ground the only thing preventing that from happening. The next thing he thinks is that your lips are on fire and it’s the most comfortable feeling he’s ever experienced.
The two of you fit into each other like clockwork, Yangyang thinks. It’s the one thing in his life that feels whole. Not that he isn’t whole by himself—he just loves your warmth. For a moment he feels like he’s on cloud nine and the next, his heart plummets when he feels you go limp in his arms.
It breaks his heart a little but he doesn’t—can’t bring himself to say much. He’s not this bad when he’s drunk, is he? Pulling you up by the waist, he texts Kunhang to bring his car down to the lounge.
This is going to be a long night.
viii. home
You wake up to the sun in your eyes and immediately know you're someplace you shouldn't be. This isn't your bed. The sun doesn't reach your bed in the morning. This isn’t the dormitory. You see a cubical alarm clock, a pixelated smiley face on it as it displays 10 A.M.
You get up and immediately shriek. You’re not wearing any clothes. Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you look around the room. It’s huge; the walls are multicolored with a little section opposite the bed reserved for photographs. There’s a lot of junk all over the floor that you don’t pay mind to when you notice Yangyang.
“Yangyang?!”
He rouses blinking slowly, hair going every which way and his eyes still unfocused. He looks like he’s had a difficult night.
“Why are you on the floor?” you ask, shrinking further into the ridiculously soft bed when he gets up. Massaging the back of his neck, he looks like he's looking at a mirage instead of a real live person. Unfortunately, he’s not wearing a shirt and you look away after a prolonged minute of staring. This is getting ridiculous. What are you doing here?
“Yangyang!”
“Huh? Oh!”
He seems to be finally awake. You should pop the question before it eats you alive.
"Did- Did we…?"
Yangyang blinks at you in confusion before a loud "oh" erupts from his mouth.
"No!" He says in between laughter. "No, we didn't. Oh my god, you’re so funny. You took off your clothes saying it's too hot and smacked me with them. I didn’t look, by the way.”
Your jaw drops. You can’t even form words through the pulsing headache.
“Your clothes are on the chair. And I didn’t touch your underwear. Out of respect."
You avoid eye contact in embarrassment.
“And… well, you did kiss me once. Twice.”
You look up alarmed and he raises his arms in defense.
“You- you were drunk so I had to push you off. You cried a little after that. Sorry.”
“Oh god.” You cover your face with your hands, sitting down on the bed. That has to be the most embarrassing thing you could have done.
“You- Don’t worry about that. You’re a good kisser. I was kind of surprised,” he offers in an attempt to make you feel better but you only grow hotter in the face.
“And- And I liked it,” he adds in a panic. “Wait, I don’t mean it in a creepy way.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t anyone else.”
“What?”
“You. It’s okay if it’s you.”
You give him a weak smile, still not over the embarrassment.
Yangyang laughs. “I… I think I should’ve said this before but… can I take you out on a date?”
“What were we doing last night then?”
“Well, that was- ah. You’re teasing me. Motherfucker.”
You giggle into your palm. When he takes a seat on the bed, you make a distressed sound and he jumps up immediately.
“My clothes,” you hiss. “Get out of the room so I can wear them.”
“Right,” he says, pointing an index finger at you.
He turns around right then. "By the way…"
You shriek, pulling the cover up all the way to your nose.
"Sorry," he says, averting his eyes immediately. "If- if that was a date, did you like it? Do you wanna go on another one?"
You can see him practically sweat bullets and you laugh at the innocuous questions. He’s too cute. You can’t believe you made yourself shake off the thought every time it crossed you. However indelicate his touch is, you welcome it nonetheless.
"Yes. Yes, I'll go on a date with you. You annoying, stupid, bratty idiot."
“Okay, that was mean.”
Watching his figure leave through the door, you relax your shoulders. In the end, people will always be people. No matter what shiny new toy you give them to play with, people will always search for happiness, and they will laugh and cry and fall in love with people and places and things over and over again. It's lovely to be human in an era of diamond and steel.
