— Terrified ⟢

in the comfort of shared proximity

── inspired by taylor swift's lover ; "and at every table, i'll save you a seat, lover."

wonwoo x reader, established relationship, fluff, 558 words

in the years that you had been together, wonwoo had formed a habit that never fails to touch your heart and soul. like a traveler following their north star, he unfailingly gravitates towards you. as though there was no other place on earth that is better than the spot beside you; like every seat, every corner, every inch of space in this world was meant for the two of you to be together.

at dinner parties, where the room is buzzing with people you know, he would navigate through while slowly making his way around the smalltalk, but his destination is crystal clear. he would slide into the chair next to yours, as if the other ones don't quite hold the same allure. there, your fingers would brush against his, and that delicate touch was enough to form your own little bubble amidst the sea of chatter and laughter.

"my favorite spot," he'd always say, his voice is low and quiet, as if it was a secret that nobody else could be a part of. and as he smiles, you could feel right then and there, your heart growing double in size.

during nightfall, in the tranquil embrace of your shared bedroom, you often sit side by side with only the soft glow of your bedside lamps. the pages of your respective books are illuminated, and for a moment, the two of you get lost in different worlds. but then your shoulders brush — a subtle reminder that no matter where life takes you, you have a home and a bed and a person to fall back to.

"you're right," he'd murmur, breaking the silence as he traces shapes onto his page, "this book does remind me of us." and under the low light, you glanced at him. he looks so peaceful. there is truly no place and no feeling better than this.

even on those long nights when hunger suddenly strikes and nothing is as appetizing as a bowl of cereal, you find yourselves on the kitchen floor. it's 3 a.m., the whole world is deep in slumber, the soft crunch of cereal and your hushed exchange of memories is music to your ears.

through fits of giggles, he'd say, "this is a five-star dinner to me." and with that, you spent what felt like hours, just telling each other stories in between spoonfuls. this is your own slice of the world and you make your own rules.

but it's not just in these specific moments that define his affinity to be close to you. it's in the intimacy of your fingers intertwined with his as you watch a movie on the comfort of your couch. it's in his proximity that anchors you amidst the chaos of a crowded room. it's in the way he seeks your skin in his sleep, his hands reaching out to your touch because it's the warmth he needs, even under the softness of your shared blanket.

every instance with him is an echo of love. it reminds you that for him, every moment is a chance to bask in your presence. with wonwoo, there is a seat for you at every table, not out of habit, but out of love — a love that treasures closeness even in moments of silence and revels in the happiness that is found in simply being together.

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can't run away | vernon

summary: running is the only life you've ever known. running away from your home planet, running away from anyone that gets too close, running away from officials, running from other smugglers. it's not easy but it's better than the pain that comes with staying in place and definitely better than getting caught. everyone has heard of you but nobody actually knows you. the last thing you want is to take on a passenger, especially when that passenger is a robot from one of the most popular groups in the universe. why would you let him stay when nobody else ever has? pairing: ai!vernon x smuggler!afab!reader word count: 15.6k genre: sci-fi au, angst, fluff (?) warnings/content: vernon is an automaton, reader is a smuggler (across the galaxy), references to injury (when vernon escapes, to reader as well), questionable methods of finishing a job (reader), suggestions/implications of sex/hook-ups (reader x unnamed characters), questionable legality on the jobs, exploring emotions for automatons, fights, open/ambiguous ending rating: mature (this is SFW but i prefer only people 18+ interacting with my blog) a/n: thank you so much to @idyllic-ghost for this incredible collab and this banner. i don't think i would've written a sci-fi fic otherwise and it's been so much fun. check out all the other amazing fics here! also thank you to the loml @hot-soop for *volunteering* to read through this fic. you're an angel. finally, thank you to @strawberryya for letting me use your brain and your planet.

“100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn’t. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven’t agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed. The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other, and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight. However, the aliens were welcoming of our planet. Those of us who didn’t die from ‘The Great Journey’ or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system. Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister-planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automaton, and they served as workers when humans couldn’t. Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be. At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities. The Automaton music group 53V3NT33N (SEVENTEEN) is made up of 13 members, all very talented, and all representing two human states of mind.”

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

“Chirron,” you call and wait for his hum to let you know he’s listening, “we have to go. Like 10 minutes ago.”

“Why don’t you try something helpful?” he shoots back at you. 

“The last time I got near the controls, you slapped my hands and shrieked,” you answer.

“I did not, it was not a shriek,” he hisses. He’s not really offended, it’s just how the two of you are. You’ve run hundreds of jobs together at this point and there’s nobody else you’d trust. And certainly nobody that’s better at getting your ship in the air and away from trouble. “And it was for a good reason. You’re a menace to society and to the controls, specifically.”

“Every button looks the same,” you huff.

“Will you just shut it for 2 seconds so I get us off this awful planet?” Chirron asks.

“Hey, this is my home planet!” you protest. You’re not sure why you’re distracting him like this when you want to leave just as badly as he does. Need to for the sake of your job.

“I swear to…” he says and stops to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just a minute, I’m begging you.”

There’s a retort about begging on the tip of your tongue, something you know will get under Chirron’s skin. Something you know better to say and are going to say anyway. Really, what’s the worst he could do? Except just as you’re about to say it, someone comes rushing in through the open door of your ship.

Chirron seems to register the newcomer, but says nothing. In fact, he goes back to working on one of the control panels that’s currently preventing you from leaving the planet. That leaves you to deal with this new person. Or…no, could he be an automaton? There’s something familiar about him that you can’t quite place. There’s also something that doesn’t scream human about him. Maybe the blue hair or the way he moves through expressions. He looks relieved now even though you’re a complete stranger. 

“Please, help me,” he rushes out, already moving from relief into something else. He reaches out to take your hands in his and you barely have time to register it. “I’m begging you, I’ll do anything.”

Your first instinct is to flatly tell him that you won’t help him, that you can’t. After all, you’re not exactly the type anyone looks to when they need help. A fact Chirron is always quick to point out. But, you also see that this could present an interesting opportunity for someone such as you. And maybe now you can make some begging jokes without getting your head bitten off.

“And just what are you willing to do?” you ask, arch an eyebrow as you watch the expressions cross his face. 

“Oh, well I can…you know, I could…” he sputters along and you laugh. 

Just as you’re about to take pity on him, you see a rush of guards coming through the spaceport. It’s the last thing you want to see. Your papers are solid and you’ve already made the very real excuse of needing to fix one of your systems before leaving the planet. Then again, you’ve had enough close calls for a lifetime and you’re not really looking to add another one to that list.

As you watch, the guards talk to some other people milling about in the spaceport. The man who rudely burst onto your ship seems to catch that you’re watching something and immediately ducks down. If you weren’t a little nervous about the guards coming aboard, it would be comical. He’s literally not even hiding behind anything.

“They lookin’ for you?” you ask quietly and clock the answer in his eyes before he even opens his mouth.

“I think so,” he says. 

You sigh and ignore Chirron looking back at you. “Back that way, there’s a door in the wall on your left. Nobody ever knows it’s a door, but run your hand on the wall, you’ll feel it.”

“What?” he asks.

“Go,” you hiss and walk towards the open door.

It’s perfecting timing, too, because two of the guards are approaching. One of them, thankfully, is one you’ve dealt with before. And it’s mostly been positive. At least you know he can’t seem to stay away when you breeze in and out of this part of the planet. With any luck, he’s in a good mood. 

“Thought that was your ship,” he says with a smirk, ignoring the look from the other guard. 

“Guilty,” you smile. “Always nice to see you, Kyun.”

“You two know each other?” the other guard asks skeptically. 

“Sure, she runs cargo,” Changkyun says. You can’t fully fight the smile because you know it means you’re safe after all. The two of you have spent enough time in his bed, post hook-up, for him to know that’s not the whole story.

“And I would be gone already because we’re behind schedule, but we had a little mechanical trouble,” you say, laying on the act a little thick. 

“Need a hand?” Changkyun offers. 

“We’re supposed to be asking about someone,” the other guard reminds him. 

“It’s fine, we’ve got it handled anyway,” you say and send Changkyun a flirty smile before turning to his partner. “Ask away.”

“Have you seen an automaton running through here? Blue hair, about this tall, wearing a plain white shirt,” he asks and you pretend to think for a second. 

“There’s been a lot of people coming through,” you offer apologetically. “I think I did see someone with bright hair rushing off in that direction. Could’ve been blue.”

“You’re sure about the hair color?” the other guard asks. 

“Not really, it happened fast. But it could’ve been blue,” you shrug and then look like you’ve realized something. “Wait, there isn’t a reward is there?”

“Last I heard, you were doing fine,” Changkyun says and you smile as his partner walks off to share your info with a group of guards. 

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” you say with a wink. 

“Make sure you come by next time you’re here,” Changkyun says with that look you’ve seen before. 

“I will, promise,” you say. 

“Have a safe flight!” he calls. He’s already heading off to join his partner. 

When he looks back, you wave. For good measure, you look over your shoulder like Chirron said something and nod. You’re closing the hatch with a last wave to Changkyun. Once you’ve also made sure the shields to protect anyone from seeing in are activated, you head back to find your new friend. 

“Seems like people are looking for you,” you say when you open the door.

You don’t bother waiting to see if he’s going to follow you when you walk back towards Chirron at the front of the ship. The blue haired man, who still hasn’t introduced himself, follows you instantly and then ducks when he sees the windshield in front of him.

“They can’t see you,” Chirron says in a bored voice. Mostly likely unimpressed by a decision you don’t actually remember making.

“You almost done?” you ask again.

“Yes, actually, that little disruption got you to leave me alone long enough to fix it,” he says with a glare at you. “Now be quiet again.”

“So rude,” you say quietly without any bite.

“Control, Vega Three requesting clearance for take off,” Chirron states over the communication system.

“Clearance granted,” comes an immediate response. 

“Finally,” you say and take your seat next to Chirron. You twist over your shoulder to look at your unexpected guest. “I’d buckle in if I were you, sweetheart.” 

“Are you…are we taking off?” he asks, seemingly unable to sit still.

“Unless you had a different idea when you tried to sneak onto a ship,” you respond. 

“But you don’t…” he begins.

“You’ve got your reasons for wanting to get off this planet, and we’ve got ours, best to discuss those once we’re actually off the planet. So, strap in,” you instruct.

The stranger in question doesn’t need to be told a third time, thankfully. He slides into the seat behind Chirron and buckles himself in. With a sideways glance at you to confirm he’s clear, Chirron uses the recently repaired controls to get you going and safely off this planet. Even though it’s your home planet, and you definitely can linger, this job is a little sensitive. You really can’t afford to be late on the delivery, though your reputation with this buyer is spotless. It only stays spotless as long as you finish your jobs as quickly and discreetly as possible. 

If you expect the stranger to say something as Chirron navigates you out of the spaceport and into the air, you’re left wanting. When you look back, you find him relaxed back into the chair. It’s like he’s completely at ease. Or maybe just feeling a lot of relief that you let him stay on board. Or even relief that you lied to the guards. Something you do often, though he doesn’t know that. His eyes close as Chirron types in the course to autopilot until you get close to your destination. 

While the stranger rests, something kind of surprising to you given that he doesn’t know you at all, you briefly wonder if it’s sleep or just a sort of recharging. Chirron claims your attention and you quietly discuss your plans for once you get to your destination. Salax is known for…discretion. People don’t tend to ask that many questions there because of the types of humans and aliens alike that follow their desires there. But, since it’s a place for your deepest desires, people are also wary of suspicious behavior. You’ve spent plenty of time there, both for your own pleasure or, like now, for a job. 

The downside to this planet, though? It’s the type of place no robot would ever be seen. Certainly not a Level 1. They’re far too pure for that. And judging by the number of guards employed, and the fact that you were on Earth, you’re willing to bet your new passenger is a Level 1. So that’s going to add its own unique set of challenges. Something that has you buzzing with adrenaline, but has Chirron looking sterner than usual. 

“We need to know who he is,” Chirron repeats quietly.

“And we will,” you answer easily.

“If he’s a Level 1…” Chirron starts before trailing off.

“What? You’ll turn me over for the reward you asked about?” the stranger asks. You’re a little startled because you didn’t realize he had woken up. Or stopped resting, whatever.

Chirron scoffs as he takes in your amusement. “No.”

“It’s not a ridiculous question,” he insists.

“It is if you know her,” Chirron says and nods in your direction. 

“Why? You’re wondering if I’m a Level 1 so you know how high the reward is,” he insists and you finally take pity on him.

“No, I have no intention to collect some reward for you, if one even exists,” you confirm. 

“But why?” he asks. He’s fidgeting in his seat like he can’t sit still. It’s interesting to see when he was resting so peacefully without moving.

“Because,” Chirron interjects, clearly intent to take away any fun, “she prefers not to deal in things as meaningless as currency or credits.” 

“How do you live?” he asks, genuine curiosity coloring his face. 

“I’ve got enough credits to keep us going for years,” you answer vaguely.

“What else is there to work for?” the stranger wonders. 

You turn your seat fully so it’s facing him and lean forward, dropping your voice a little. “So many things, sweetheart. Favors, information, gossip…secrets.” 

His eyes go wide, like it’s something he’s never considered before. And he probably hasn’t. If he’s a Level 1, and you’d bet your ship that he is at this point, then this is so wildly out of normality for him. The Level 1s are pristine, like the celebrities of the galaxy living in luxury with someone to help keep them functioning at the highest levels. They’ll never see the types of jobs that Level 3s see, those jobs that nobody else wants to do. They’ll never work the way that Level 2s do, or have to work for humans in that way. Which isn’t to say their lives are perfect. It’s just not the kind of life where they see the dirty types of jobs that you and Chirron are used to. 

“Why don’t you give me a name, sweetheart? Unless you prefer the pet name, which is fine by me,” you say.

He hesitates, before saying, “Vernon.”

You and Chirron look at each other, like you’re both wondering why this automaton seems familiar and why everyone is looking for him.

“Well, V3RN0N actually, from 53V3NT33N,” Vernon adds.

And that makes everything fall into place. Not that you pay much attention to groups of performers like that, it’s kind of hard when you’re constantly on the move, but everyone in the galaxy knows them. Everyone in the galaxy also knows that the members just…disappeared. There isn’t much information, at least not from reputable sources, about what happened. Thankfully for you, you don’t really deal in reputable sources. So you’ve heard your fair share about the escapes, each tale sounding a little wilder than the last. You at least know someone is desperate to find all 13 of the automatons, given how popular the group is. Or maybe it’s because they’ve resorted to asking in places they’d normally never be caught to find information.

When you assure Vernon that your previous statement still stands, that you’re far more interested in your form of currency than any reward you’d get from turning him in, he relaxes a bit again. He’s worried, still, that he admitted to complete strangers who he really is, but you give him your real names. You tell him what you actually do, despite Chirron’s protests. That’s when he starts telling you all about the escape. The way that he got away, the way he doesn’t know what happened to his other members, the way he hopes they’re all okay too. 

It’s a little depressing and a lot too close to home for you to hear what life was actually like for Vernon and the other Automatons in his group. Not that you’ve ever been famous or had people across the galaxy expecting you to perform, but you know a thing or two about someone else making your decisions. Chirron knows it too, knows your story intimately, so he probably also sees where this is going before you do. 

It’s difficult, you think, to listen to Vernon talk about his experiences and why he chose to run. Humans and aliens had worked together to create these new beings. Perfected them until they were indistinguishable from humans and even gave them emotions. Yet beings like Vernon and his group are expected to just perform. To essentially serve at the wishes of the public for entertainment value. Have to uphold the highest standards and can’t ever do something that would look bad. Have to remain pure, whatever that means. 

From there, you come up with a plan. One that will at least give you time to come up with some next steps on Salax. Vernon is restless again when you share your destination. Of course he’s never been there, but he knows all about it. It’s hard to tell if he’s just nervous that he’ll look out of place or if he’s curious about what actually happens there. In either case, you need to make sure he’s prepared for the stop. There isn’t much choice anyway, you’re on a schedule and he’s just an unexpected passenger. Before he can continue protesting, you send him to the back of the ship to look through the clothes and accessories. Anything to hide who he is.

“He’s not you, you know,” Chirron offers.

“I know that,” you answer.

“Do you?” From anyone else, the question might sound accusatory. From Chirron, it only sounds concerned. 

You sigh. “I do, but what they put him through is awful.”

“He’s an Automaton,” Chirron reminds you.

“I’m well aware,” you say with a slight snap to your words. “You heard him, though. And you’ve seen the Automatons we’ve come across. It’s different.”

“Does he know what you’re going to tell them when we get to Salax?” Chirron asks, switching tactics. 

“Do you?” you ask back.

“An overly sheltered Automaton on Salax?” Chirron raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re going to bring him along as your ‘date’ who’s just testing the waters to see if it’s his thing.”

“I am not that predictable,” you retort. But you don’t disagree because you can’t.

“What else would you say?” Chirron asks.

“I don’t know, I just hope it works,” you say.

“Luckily for him, you’re a frequent visitor,” Chirron says with a shrug.

You decide to let that comment lie. Partly because you don’t want to argue with Chirron too loudly and draw Vernon’s attention. Partly because he’s not entirely wrong. You do like to spend time on Salax, looking for things that you can’t find when you’re constantly on the move. Looking for people that don’t expect you to be there when they need you. That’s something you can’t do. Chirron would ask ‘can’t or won’t’, but the difference hardly matters.

After another minute you go and check on Vernon because you really do need to get going. For a number of reasons. He’s dressed and looking like he’ll at least moderately fit in at the club you’re taking him to. It’s clear he still wants to stay on the ship, or to go with Chirron, but you remind him that won’t work. Chirron is leaving the ship to get supplies for after your errands and to make sure you’re ready to leave the planet. Even without Vernon, you don’t want to linger. Not this time. Going with Chirron to run errands would be even more suspicious. He so rarely has anyone around when he’s anywhere, let alone Salax. He keeps to himself so the appearance of a beautiful stranger would be out of character. No, it’s much easier to have Vernon with you. You’re much more likely to have someone around on this planet. And you’re certainly had enough beautiful strangers with you on Salax to blend in. You ignore the way Vernon reacts each time you call him beautiful because, really, it’s just a fact.

Vernon tags along a half step behind you when you leave the ship. You’re considering telling him to walk beside you when you think you might as well sell it. If you’re going to be telling people that he’s your pet, just someone you picked up for the time being, then it makes sense that he wouldn’t walk quite beside you. 

This club is so familiar to you. Once you’re inside, you make your way to one of the back rooms, the same room you always meet your client in every time she hires you. Nobody asks questions as it is, but certainly not of her when she books private rooms. You know she’ll be seeing someone else before or after you. Or both, knowing her. 

Thankfully, Vernon keeps his head down like you told him to while you’re winding your way through. You offer the occasional smile or nod as you see people that you know, people you’ve worked with professionally and people you know personally. Some look at your companion, but nobody says anything. Both you and Chirron were right. Though this puts Vernon in contact with more people, it’s far less conspicuous. Besides, with his hat and clothing, nobody would guess he was a Level 1. 

Circe is waiting in her back room, sprawled out on her lounger when you enter, surprisingly alone. Then again, she probably got word when you landed and then again when you entered the club. As usual, she looks completely stunning in her figure hugging outfit. It’s enough to send anyone’s mind into overdrive.

“My, my, darling,” she says as she takes in both you and your companion. “I would scold you for keeping me waiting, but you’ve brought company.”

“You know I’d never dream of keeping you waiting,” you say with a smile at her. “We were…held up a bit. Had some ship trouble.”

“And picked up a new toy,” she comments. “Please, sit.”

“Ah yes, well he’s…curious about expanding his horizons,” you say with a glance at him. The two of you sit in front of her.

“Maybe we can share,” Circe offers and you chuckle.

“Circe, love, he’s nowhere near ready for that,” you answer.

“Always keeping your prettiest toys from me,” Circe pouts.

“Now you know that’s not true,” you chastise. “The last time I was here for fun rather than work…”

“Was very fun, that’s true,” Circe concedes. “Should I assume you’re not staying around this time, then?”

“I’m afraid not,” you say and inject as much sincerity as you can.

“Would that happen to be because he’s one of those escaped Automatons?” Circe plays it off like idle curiosity and you only smile fondly.

“If he were, what kind of fool would I be to bring him here?” you wonder.

“The kind that does trust me despite your insistence that you trust nobody other than yourself and Chirron,” she answers without missing a beat.

“Well,” you shrug.

“I thought…” Vernon says quietly to you.

“Relax, whoever you are is no concern of mine. She knows I won’t blow your secret because I know that there’s nobody better in the galaxy than her at what she does,” Circe says softly.

“You flatter me,” you say. This time the sincerity comes in earnest.

Circe waves it off like it’s nothing. You also know she means what she said. “I assume you have what I sent you off for?”

“Of course,” you respond and reach into your bag.

“This is why I protect her,” Circe says, leaning forward like she’s sharing a secret with Vernon. “I’ve never met anyone that can do a sensitive job for me like she can.”

“And have you met a lot of people?” Vernon asks.

Circe’s eyes sparkle. “You may be one of the only ones who can understand when I say thousands, probably.”

You watch the interaction for a moment because it’s so mundane, so simple. Shaking your head to clear the scene, you hand over a small device. Circe takes it and examines it for a second, looking over the markings on the side. Her smile is almost instant.

“This looks full,” she comments.

“It is,” you answer.

“How sensitive is the material?” Circe asks. 

You hesitate and look over at Vernon. “I wouldn’t watch it with just anyone. There’s…well I don’t have to tell you that people get more honest when they’re in compromising situations.” 

This seems to amuse Circe as she watches you form your words. It’s different from how you usually are and it’s entertaining. “Are you in it?” 

“No,” you answer with a little laugh. “Someone owed me a very big favor. Well owes me several favors, actually. He’s not off the hook yet.”

“I’ve known you for years and I still don’t think I understand the extent of your network,” Circe observes. 

“Probably not,” you acknowledge.

“And what about you, my little mystery, what do you owe her?” Circe asks Vernon.

“I’m…” he starts, looks over at you for guidance. “I’m not sure yet.” 

“That’s dangerous,” Circe adds. 

“We haven’t really figured…” Vernon begins, still very nervous. “She got me off Earth.”

“That’s actually part of what I needed to talk to you about. I need to get him an introduction to someone,” you say. Circe’s eyes turn back to you.

“To whom, darling?” she asks.

“I’m not sure,” you admit. “I need a recommendation. Someone that you trust that can help him disappear. Help him reappear as someone new.” 

Circe regards the pair of you for a moment. Probably a moment too long for Vernon’s comfort. “I can’t help you.”

Your frustration gets the better of you before you even consider the why. “Can’t or won’t?” 

“Pumpkin,” Circe says, full of affection and patience that you’re not sure you deserve. “I know the kind of favors you’re offering for something like this. I’d be stupid to turn it down if I could help you, but unfortunately I like you too much to pull the wool over on you.”

“Why can’t you help?” This, at least, comes out calm.

“I’m not sure where to turn, not now at least. There are too many people looking for him,” Circe admits.

You sigh heavily at that. In the seven years that you’ve known Circe, this is a first. It’s the first time you’ve ever presented her with a problem that she couldn’t solve. It leaves you feeling a little helpless, a feeling that you really don’t enjoy. Maybe she takes a little bit of pity on you because she does tell you to see one of her workers before you leave. He can help Vernon look a little different, at least. That’s all she can do, though, and she knows she’s still going to owe you after this. 

So you’re going to have to take Vernon with you, at least for now. You feel some amount of responsibility, even though he jumped onto your ship. But he’s far too sheltered for this life, too innocent, too naive. He isn’t hard around the edges like you, doesn’t know that he can’t trust anyone, hasn’t been hurt by people he depended on. 

You finish up the conversation with Circe and say your goodbyes. It completely slips your notice that Vernon isn’t right behind you when you head out the door.

“Wait a moment,” Circe says, lightly grabbing Vernon’s arm.

He looks down at the place her hand touches his arm before meeting her eyes again. The confusion on his face must be clear.

“Be careful with her,” Circe says. Vernon’s eyebrows only knit further in confusion. “I love her dearly, but it always comes at a price. She’s the kind of girl you’d name one of those hurricanes after back on Earth.”

“I’m not sure…” Vernon tries to begin. Circe waves a hand to quiet him.

“She’s wild and wonderful,” Circe says with a soft smile that only lingers a second. “But she will destroy everything in her path.”

Vernon is about to say something when you pop your head back through the door. “There you are, come on. We should really get going.”

Vernon looks back at Circe, tries to make some kind of sense of what she said. It’s pointless, though, and instead he just follows you out without a word.

If Vernon is expecting you to head straight back to the ship, he’s mistaken. You wind through the hallways like you’ve been through a hundred times before. Which is entirely possible, it’s not like Vernon knows much about you or your history. He just knows he couldn’t navigate back out if he got lost, so he stays close. It’s not that has a bad memory, it’s just that his brain is currently on overdrive. He’s thinking about what Circe said about you. But he’s also just taking in all the things he never even knew existed.

It doesn’t seem like you’re heading anywhere, even when you stop. The room is empty except for a large desk in the center. Vernon wants to ask what it is you’re doing. One look at your face tells him not to. You quickly reach into one of the drawers, like it’s the most normal thing, and pull out another device that looks like the one you gave to Circe. You stow the device in a pocket that Vernon hadn’t even noticed and make your way back out without another word.

In fact, you don’t speak again until you’re back on the ship. Vernon has a second to note that Chirron is missing before you head to the control panel and start pressing buttons. The door closes and something seems to shift with the windshields. It’s like the ship is going into some sort of shut down. You walk back past Vernon to a table and slide into one side of the booth. Vernon takes the cue and slides in across from you.

“So that didn’t exactly go as planned,” you observe. 

“You were expecting her to help,” Vernon says and you nod. 

“Circe knows everyone, has eyes and ears everywhere, so it’s…well I don’t want to scare you, but it’s concerning that she can’t help hide you,” you say.

“Maybe I should just go back,” Vernon wonders out loud.

“Look, you ran away for a reason and I know the kind of desperation it takes to just…run onto some random ship,” you let him know. “I’m not really sure why I’m helping, but I’m going to help. There’s just one rule.”

“What is it?” Vernon asks. He already knows he’s going to agree.

“Whatever I say, you have to follow,” you say. It sounds so simple, Vernon is sure there’s some kind of catch when you continue. “If I say run, you run. If I say hide, you hide. If I say leave me behind, you have to.”

“But…” Vernon starts and you shake your head.

“I’m going to try to find a solution, but I have to keep working too. And this isn’t exactly a safe line of work,” you tell him.

“I’d gathered,” he says before he can stop himself. You chuckle.

“At least you’re observant,” you say.

Since Chirron isn’t back yet, you send off a quick message to him that you’re going off the ship for one more quick stop. That you’ll be back within the hour and ready to go if he is. With that out of the way, you take Vernon to see Circe’s friend about blending in a little better. You’re just hoping that this isn’t going to be a waste. And also hoping that nobody recognizes him in the meantime because the last thing you need is for your name to be plastered next to his.

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Two hours later, you’re all back on the ship and taking off. With a quick message to Circe, you thank her and request that she keep you updated if she hears anything interesting. Thankfully, she seems to know what that means and there’s nobody better to keep an eye out. Vernon looks different, too. His hair is a different color and style, his eyes are no longer the same shade, his clothing is entirely different, even some of the shape of his face is different. Despite his protests, you also got him a face mask and sunglasses to wear. Although he thinks that it’ll make him stand out, you insist that in your line of work, it’s standard.

Although you know you need to talk, you tell Vernon that it’s time for you all to get at least a little sleep. Chirron put it on the slow track to allow everyone a chance to rest before getting to their next stop. It’s standard practice for the two of you, but entirely foreign to Vernon. 

Once you wake up again, it’s time to talk. “We need a story.” 

You, Chirron, and Vernon are sitting at the table in the main part of the ship. The ship itself is on autopilot to your next stop, which Chirron says will take at least 3 more hours.

“Better late than never, I guess,” Chirron says.

“Would you stop being grumpy?” you fire back.

“No,” Chirron answers without hesitation.

“Uh, a story for what?” Vernon interrupts.

“Who you are and why we’ve let you join our missions.” Chirron gives the straightforward answer before you can be a smartass. 

“Does there need to be a story?” Vernon asks, causing Chirron to sigh.

“Yes, there does,” is all Chirron says.

You shoot him a look. “Our entire livelihood depends on us staying off the wrong radars, which we’ve been good at. But it also depends on our current…clients continuing to trust us. You’re new. And while our reputation is excellent, we tend to deal with a lot of people who value privacy and secrecy over everything.”

“So she can’t just tell them we’ve picked up a rogue celebrity on the run and just go with it,” Chirron says.

“Maybe I should just…” Vernon starts.

“What? Get off the ship and try to hide on your own?” you wonder. 

“I don’t know,” Vernon says.

“Remember what I said when you got on the ship? The one rule is to do what I say?” Vernon nods at your question. “That’s still in effect, sweetheart.”

“So what’s the plan?” Chirron asks you.

“What are you good at? Besides singing and dancing?” You direct this question at Vernon.

“Rapping, not singing,” Vernon corrects quietly. “What?” you ask.

“I rapped, I didn’t sing,” Vernon tells you. “And I produced some of our tracks. In my free time, when I actually got it, I played a lot of games.” 

You’re looking at Vernon like he just handed you the easiest line and he doesn’t realize it. His head is down, he’s not confident about anything he said. But you know better. You know that he just handed you the perfect solution.

“You any good with tech, then?” You try to throw out the question casually. 

Chirron actually approaches a smile then. He knows where this is going and enjoys the way Vernon’s head pops up. It’s almost endearing the way his eyes go wide and he looks innocent again.

“Uh, yeah, I’m decent with it. I, well I used to try and practice any time I could get my hands on any tech. I had to use all the programs to produce the songs, so I got pretty good at it,” Vernon says.

“Chirron, I’d like you to meet our new tech specialist,” you announce and Chirron chuckles. 

“Bout time I didn’t have to stumble my way through reprogramming shit,” Chirron says.

“I don’t know,” Vernon says.

“Look, I’ve got plenty of old tech on the ship that you can practice on. After the next job, we’d planned a break anyway. So, for real, I won’t pick up anything new…” you start to outline.

“Thank fuck,” Chirron whispers, silenced by your look.

“And we can lay low at our place while you figure out if you’re really our new tech guy,” you say. 

“Your place?” Vernon asks.

“Yeah, I mean we’re not always on the move,” you say with a shrug. 

“Okay, might as well try, I guess,” Vernon says.

“That’s the spirit,” you encourage.

Vernon shits in his seat and winces. It’s the first time that you’re actually looking at the way his body moves. You hadn’t even looked when he changed or when he had his appearance worked on, hadn’t checked for injuries or done any of that. You’re not used to having someone new around. For all yours and Chirron’s faults, both of you trust the other and know well enough to admit if you’ve been hurt. This new addition doesn’t.

He winces again and runs a hand over his chest, something he clearly hopes you don’t notice. You do, though. His eyes meet yours and he looks scared, like he’s still not sure if he can trust you. Like he’s still on edge with every move.

“Are you okay?” you ask, voice gentle so you don’t scare him.

“This is all a bit weird to get used to,” Vernon answers.

“That’s not what I meant,” you level. 

“It’s nothing,” he insists. 

“Vernon, if we’re all gonna be in this, then you have to tell us what’s going on,” you say with as much care as you can muster. Certainly more care than Chirron is used to.

“It’s not that bad, it could be a lot worse, it’s just…well it’s the communication device that I used to have. My manager, he had to stay behind, he’d been loosening it for weeks so it wasn’t as painful when it came out but I had to run before he could finish. And I almost got caught trying to have someone fix it for me,” Vernon says. 

“You’re going to need to let us see,” Chirron says. Vernon looks between the two of you before he lifts his shirt over his head. Beneath it, he’s wearing a bandage that wraps around his body. You lean forward to start unwinding the wrapping, needing to get a look. It’s weird, you think, to brush your fingers against his skin and have it feel so much like your own. Weirder still is seeing the partial hole leftover in his chest. You can see where some of the edges need to be smoothed and where he needs to keep it covered. Vernon doesn’t seem nervous under your touch, which reminds you that he’s not actually human, despite how much his upper body seems like he would be. 

“Chirron, can you go get me my toolkit?” you ask.

“What are you going to do?” Vernon asks suspiciously. 

“I’m going to do everything I can to make it more comfortable while we’re on the ship and then we can figure out next moves once we land,” you say.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Vernon protests and you just raise an eyebrow. 

Chirron reappears with a box and stifles a chuckle at the scene. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“How do you know what to do?” Vernon tries a different question.

“She worked as a Automaton mechanic for almost a year,” Chirron answers, taking your fun of torturing him away.

“I thought you were a criminal,” Vernon admits and this does make Chirron laugh. You join in. 

“I’m a lot of things, sweetheart, I’ve lived a very full life,” you say and don’t offer any further explanations. 

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Back home, you get settled and suggest you all get some rest before you decide on next moves. You know that Vernon doesn’t actually sleep now, but you also know he has to recharge. Which is all sleep is anyway, so you send him off to his own area to recharge. Once you’re all awake again, Chirron helps you come up with a more permanent solution to the whole where Vernon’s communication device used to be. It’s painful, you know that it’s painful for him and you wish you could help. But you can’t. All you can do is help him through it and know that when you’re done, he shouldn’t be in pain anymore. He takes even longer to recharge after you’re done. When he emerges, though, he does feel a lot better and he’s incredibly thankful.

It’s been just over three weeks since Vernon ran onto your ship without looking back. Just about three weeks since you finished the last job after leaving Salax. Chirron has loved every minute of getting to take the break. In fact, you’ve gone entire days without seeing him while he takes time for himself. It’s one of the longer breaks you’ve taken and he’s actually enjoying it. 

You, on the other hand, don’t like to be still. Don’t like to be stationary. It gives you entirely too much time to think and to remember all the reasons you’re in this position now. For the first few days, you tried to give Vernon his space like Chirron. He had more tech and gadgets than he’d seen in his entire existence, which is good. It seemed like he was enjoying getting to work on them and learn as he went. Annoyingly, he took to it almost immediately.

But then he seemed to realize that you didn’t like to be left to your own devices. That you’re the opposite of Chirron and would probably never stop moving if you had the choice. So he asks if you would be willing to keep him company while he works through things, insists that he doesn’t need silence in order to work. Actually, he thinks that he’s gotten a good handle on it and it would be better having you around. Even though you look skeptical, you take him up on the offer. 

While Vernon works (and occasionally curses at something, using a swear word he learned from you), he asks about your life. Usually you keep all of that to yourself. It’s not really comfortable for you to share the parts of your past. But this isn’t a normal situation. Meeting someone like Vernon isn’t an everyday occurrence. So you find yourself telling him things that it took you months or years to tell Chirron without giving it a second thought. Everything just feels…easy. There’s no other word. Vernon has experienced things you couldn’t ever imagine, but he’s still so new at people and interactions. There’s no fear of judgment with him. It’s almost refreshing. 

Vernon listens intently as you talk about your childhood and how you got to where you are now. It’s hard for him to really imagine having parents like yours that loved you and cared for you. That’s not an experience or relationship he’s had, even as close as he is to his other members. When you start to talk about things getting harder, you pick up a communication device to start fidgeting with it. Something you may not even realize but Vernon has learned enough of human emotion to know you’re uncomfortable. Not so uncomfortable that you stop talking, just unused to talking about this part of your past. The emotion is clear on your face when you talk about losing your parents, even for Vernon to pick out. Although you insist they weren’t perfect, they were all you had and you were way too young to try and make it on your own. Yet that’s exactly what you had to do. Exactly what landed you here. 

It surprises Vernon when you’re equally as interested in hearing about his experiences up until this point. About how others interacted with him, about what his emotions are like, about just generally how he feels. Which catches him off guard. He can’t remember a time in his existence where someone has actually wanted to know how he was doing in that way. Sure, people cared that he was performing at the top level and there were plenty across the galaxy that claimed to care about him. But Vernon could not recall someone asking him how he felt about any of it like he had a choice to feel anything at all. Not until you, that is. 

So that made Vernon want to talk. He started at the easiest place to tell you about performing and about his members. Even with the space and distance from them, he thinks he did genuinely care for them, genuinely enjoy being around them. He realizes that he enjoyed the performing aspect of it too. What he found he didn’t enjoy was the control and the treatment behind the scenes. He was always a commodity, always expected to do as he was told. Never permitted to see other parts of the world, interact with others the way he might want to. None of his time was ever truly free, his every move was watched. It was fine, at the beginning of Vernon’s consciousness, to live that way. 

However, as Vernon became more aware of the universe around him, he began to feel that he was missing something. He wanted to see more, know more, experience more. It made him restless. Sure, he’s not human, or even alien, and he can’t bleed or die the way others can. But he was given consciousness, given the ability to think and move freely, the ability to form bonds with others, the ability to question. With that had come the thought of something more than he currently had. All of that had led him to this moment. 

It’s hard, hearing about the life Vernon led. But you can also see how talking about his feelings with someone that cares changes him. He’s able to sort through feelings that he never considered before. It’s really nice to be able to offer that to him, to be able to support him in such a human way. Whatever else is true about the Automatons, they clearly have enough consciousness that they deserve to be treated far differently. 

It also naturally flows into you sharing what work actually looks like for you and Chirron. And Vernon now that he’s joining the team. You outline the jobs you take, the types of clients you have, the methods that you use to get a job done. Vernon seems a little wide-eyed at some of the jobs you take or how you get them done. But that’s when you remind him that getting a job done by any means necessary is kind of your whole motto. He doesn’t have to worry, you’ll never put him or Chirron in a compromising situation and never ask either of them to do something they’re not comfortable with. If it’s something…compromising, you’ll always do that yourself or call in a favor from your network. Although Vernon doesn’t look like he likes the answer, he accepts it.

Neither you or Vernon notice the moment when your days shift. What started as the two of you going about your days separately before ending up chatting about something turned into being together throughout the day, not even really tracking the last time Chirron had been by. Although you assured Vernon it wasn’t really an issue, both you and Chirron wore bracelets with trackers in them so you’d always know where the other was. That’s a relief, because honestly Vernon likes this comfort between you and him. He does ask if he should get a bracelet too and you say that you’ll get him one as well. 

Finally, though, all good things must come to an end. You manage to call Chirron back so that you can move forward with your plan. Everyone is still looking for Vernon and his other members, but it seems that nobody has reported any sightings. At least not of Vernon. 

“Are you ready to move back out?” you ask Chirron over dinner.

“If we must,” he sighs. Then he turns to Vernon. “Though I should thank you, actually, she’s never stayed still for this long.”

“Not like she’s stayed still while we’ve been here,” Vernon offers. 

“Hey,” you protest. 

“You haven’t,” Vernon doubles down. He’s different now, much more comfortable pushing back against you like an equal rather than someone who just needs to be saved. 

“This is still unprecedented for her,” Chirron says. “I was sure we’d be back on a job within the first week.” 

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt. 

“Do you have a job lined up for us?” Chirron asks.

“Several, just deciding the right one. I’m going to reach out to Circe first, though, on the unsecured line just to plant the first seeds,” you say.

This is part of the plan. You trust Circe, despite your insistence that you don’t trust anyone, but you can never be too careful. So you have two ways to talk. One is the most secure, locked down communicator in the galaxy and it’s strictly for sensitive jobs or when you can’t drop in to see her in person. It’s how she’s been keeping you updated on any rumblings about Vernon. The other is for things that wouldn’t matter so much if someone else saw it. 

You: hey love, just wanted to let you know that we finally expanded the crew beyond chirron and myself Circe: about time, who’s the new addition? You: he goes by sol, caught the fucker trying to hack one of my comms and offered him a job on the spot Circe: only you Circe: so you finally have a tech specialist? You: looks like it Circe: well stop by the next time you’re in the area, first round’s on me

Vernon offered up that he was also called Hansol as an actual name. Though he preferred to keep going by Vernon, Sol would make for a good name to resurface under. Nobody would be able to put those two together, so it seemed safe while still ringing at least partly true. You taught him that the best cover stories or lies had a little bit of truth to them. It made it easier to navigate. 

Predictably, after reaching out to Circe, you got several more job requests. Each one came with a message that they’d heard about the new addition to your team and were looking forward to hiring you even more. Which is exactly what you wanted. Although the other two had initially been skeptical, they had come around. There was undeniable logic in the idea of Vernon hiding in almost plain sight. Nobody in their right mind would go looking for a missing Automaton on a ship of questionable legality that made frequent stops on a planet like Salax. Everything in his programming should have stopped that.

Which just leaves picking a job to start with, something you do all the time. Vernon can tell you’re a bit nervous, and he is too honestly, but it’s going to be okay. It has to be okay.

“I’m just gonna remind you before we head out,” you start, allowing Chirron to go ahead onto the ship, “you can leave any time you want. After the first two jobs, that is.” 

“But you’re still gonna be doing this, right?” Vernon asked.

“Yeah,” you answer quickly.

Vernon shrugs. “I’m with you then.” 

“Vern,” you caution. He only shakes his head.

“I wanna stick by you, you’re the first person that’s ever given a shit about me,” he says. 

That makes your heart skip a beat, which you don’t really have time to consider since you’re supposed to be taking off any minute now. In fact, if you don’t follow Vernon onto the ship, you’re sure that Chirron is going to come storming off to yell at you for holding them up. There are certain windows that you need to operate in. So you file the feeling away to be dealt with later, like so many other things in your life, and get on the ship. You still have a team to run. 

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Everything goes fine with Vernon on the team. At least for a while. That’s the good thing about the type of work you do. Nobody really asks that many questions about your team or your backgrounds or where you were before. Nobody really cares, honestly, when your reputation is spotless and you’ve never missed a job. Honestly, you think that this whole situation is pretty perfect. Even Chirron, ever the pessimist, seems satisfied. 

Which is why you don’t see the issue coming. You should, you know it’s your job to see every possible outcome and calculate the likelihood of success, but you don’t see this one. Don’t anticipate something going wrong because of Vernon nearly blowing your cover. Don’t even consider that he might have an issue now, when it’s been weeks, with your methods for getting something done. Don’t think that you have to remind him that the number one rule when it comes to jobs is by any means necessary. 

Yet that’s what happens. He turns remarkably human, even with the restlessness that you’ve come to expect, when the three of you are sitting with an unsuspecting mark. Another human that doesn’t realize you’re on a job rather than just enjoying some drinks on a night out. You’re getting ready to take the mark to a backroom so that you can get the information you need and Vernon seems like he wants to stop you. Actively tries to delay you, actually.

“Baby, it’s getting a little crowded in here, why don’t you go ahead and see about a room reservation,” you say, offering your most seductive smile. The mark hesitates for a moment, thrown off by Vernon’s last comments.

“I would hate to get in the way…” he begins and your hand is on his arm immediately.

“I assure you, you’re not,” you say with eyes only for him. “I promise, I’ll meet you at the desk in just a minute.”

“How can I say no to that?” he asks, enamored with you again. Like too many before him.

The second he’s out of earshot, Vernon exhales and opens his mouth to say something. You’re quick to plaster on the same smile. 

“Chirron, take him back to the ship and wait for me there,” you say quietly, making sure nobody can hear you and nobody realizes you’re unhappy.

“Look, I’m sorry, I just…” Vernon starts.

“Not here,” you respond quickly, keeping the smile in place.

“Okay, but…” Vernon tries again, but Chirron is nudging him out of the booth.

“Let’s get something to eat, I’m starving,” he says without bothering to be quiet. He knows your moves well enough to play along.

“All you think about is food,” you jibe affectionately.

“Don’t take too long, we’ve still got work to do,” Chirron calls over his shoulder as he leads Vernon away.

You watch the two of them disappear into the crowd before you join the mark. Thankfully, he seems so taken by your flirting that he accepts your excuses of your friends being hungry. Everyone gets a little cranky, he sympathizes. The desk attendant offers you the key to one of the private rooms and you lead the way, feeling the mark following you without needing to check. 

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

It takes a little longer than normal and definitely longer than you’d like before you’re also headed back to the ship. This mark needed a little more foreplay before he was ready to spill the secrets that you need. Or maybe you’re a little off your game from the near issue that Vernon created. You know you’re good, you’ve done this enough times to know that you can be irresistible, but you don’t like unexpected interference. You definitely don’t ever expect that to come from your own team. And you don’t like having to resort to different plans, like you did tonight. Normally, you don’t take it that far. No matter. You got what you needed.

Once you’re heading back to the ship, you fire off a quick message to Chirron to ask if he’s got any food leftover on the ship. He knows it’s code. You’re asking if he actually went to get something to eat or if they went straight back to the ship. His answer comes immediately. They do have food, he lists off what the leftovers are, but you took too long and it might be cold. A suggestion to get your own food if you’re hungry. And also a suggestion to take an extra beat if you need it before you come back to the situation on the ship. So you take heed and pick up some food from your favorite stand before returning to the ship.

Both Chirron and Vernon are sitting in the booth as soon as you turn around from closing the hatch. Chirron looks tired, like he’s run an entire marathon in the time since you parted ways. Vernon looks restless, like he’s barely able to stay seated. Maybe that’s why Chirron looks so worn out.

“What the fuck, Vernon?” you ask as soon as you’re sitting down and setting out your food.

“What do you mean?” he asks as if it’s a completely unreasonable question.

“You nearly blew our cover!” you retort. 

“Because you were going to…you were taking him, you were going to…” he stutters out.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I was going to fuck him,” you cut over him.

He blanches at the bluntness of your statement. Even after all the time he’s been around you, he’s still surprised. “Well that’s just…you shouldn’t have to do that.”

Your eyes flick to Chirron, as if you’re asking what he’s been doing the last two hours that you were indisposed. 

“He doesn’t want to hear what I have to say,” Chirron says. Vernon glances between the two of you. It’s still foreign to him that you can communicate without using any words.

“No, I don’t,” Vernon agrees. 

“Well, you should,” you say flatly. “Chirron is just as much in charge as I am. Whatever he says, also goes.”

“Not when it comes to you doing…that,” Vernon says.

“No, that was my choice,” you agree. 

“And you shouldn’t have done it,” Vernon argues.

“According to who, Vern?” you ask. 

“You just shouldn’t have to…use your body like that,” he says and looks down. He’s embarrassed, but you’re not sure why.

“Sweetheart, you knew the game. I told you that jobs get done by whatever means necessary. I told you that I’d never ask you or Chirron to do what I did, but that if it came to it, I would do it,” you explain.

“I didn’t think you were serious,” he says quietly.

“So, what? You thought you’d come in like some Knight to protect my honor and risk blowing the job?” You’re a little incredulous at that.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t like the idea of you and that guy…” Vernon starts and stops. Chirron, thankfully on the edge of the booth, gets up then.

“We need some supplies before we leave here. I’ll go grab them,” he says and leaves before either you or Vernon can object. 

“What was the first rule, Vernon?” you ask when the silence gets too deafening.

“That we finish jobs by any means necessary, I know,” he huffs out.

“No, the real first rule. When I agreed to help you,” you prompt, voice soft. He finally looks up at you. He knows and doesn’t want to say. “That, no matter what, you had to listen to what I told you.”

“I know,” he answers like a defeated man.

“Then why didn’t you?” you press.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I just…I knew you were about to go into that back room with that guy and I knew how far you’d be willing to go to get what we need and it just…it made me mad.”

“Mad?” you ask. “Why are you mad?” 

Vernon is frustrated, you recognize it immediately. Not because of what you did, or not entirely, at least. He’s frustrated because he’s feeling an emotion that he doesn’t understand and doesn’t know how to describe. This isn’t the first time you’ll have to walk him through sorting it out. But it is the first time you’re not sure if you can. You’re nervous about what he’s feeling and why.  Nervous about what he’s going to say. Nervous about what he’s actually feeling. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. He’s frustrated. He doesn’t like not understanding how he’s feeling. “I just, I had this feeling in my stomach when you started making plans with that guy and I didn’t like it.”

“That’s understandable,” you offer.

“Is it?” His question comes quickly. “I wanted to, I don’t know, I wanted to tell him to get lost or just tell us what we needed to know but stop looking at you like you’re a meal. Or like you’re something to win. You’re not a thing, you’re a person.”

You’re relieved, mostly, because you think you can identify this emotion in a way that doesn’t complicate an already overly complicated situation. Your smile at him is soft, sofer than he’s seen on you since you left the break between jobs. Softer than you give to anyone on jobs and far more genuine. “Yeah, it is understandable. It just means you care, you’re protective over me.”

Vernon seems to consider this for a second like he’s not entirely sure that’s it. Seems to want to say something else. “I do care about you.”

“I know you do,” you say.

“I don’t like feeling like this, like I want to protect you and I know that I can’t,” he admits. 

“It’s tough,” you agree and then decide to admit something. “I feel that way about you, too.”

“You do?” Vernon looks hopeful, like you understand.

“Course I do,” you say easily. “I feel, I’m not sure, responsible for you, I guess. Like I threw you into this life without much choice and I worry that I’m putting you in more danger than when you ran onto the ship in the first place.”

“You’re not.” He’s quick to reassure you. “Life in the last month or two with you has been better than my entire existence up to meeting you.”

That shouldn’t warm your heart, shouldn’t make it beat irregularly, shouldn’t make you feel something more than just the care you mentioned. It does, though. It’s making you feel a lot of things that you really don’t need to be feeling.

In contrast, Vernon seems much lighter. It seems like he’s relieved by understanding the care he feels for you is normal and relieved he could let you know how good things have been since he met you. It doesn’t go deeper for him, at least not now. Not when you gave him a simple name for the emotion. You don’t think he realizes that you’re in your head about the entire conversation and what this means for the two of you going forward. You don’t think he realizes that there’s another emotional explanation for his reaction and you’re not going to tell him. 

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

Vernon thinks about that conversation with you a lot over the next several weeks of missions. He thinks about how he felt watching you make plans to go somewhere private with a person that you called a mark. He thinks about the feelings that boiled up inside of him that he described as anger when they felt like much more. He thinks of the way you react to him almost ruining a mission and how you reacted to him after you got back. He tries not to think about what you did while he waited in too much silence on the ship with Chirron. 

He spends the most time thinking about what you didn’t say. Even though he’s not sure what it was, he knows there’s something. Your face can be really expressive when your guard is down, as it usually is around him and Chirron. Part of him wants to think he reacted the way he did only because he cares about you in the same way that Chirron does. That you’re a team, some kind of weird version of a family that protects each other. But then he remembers how you went quiet after he accepted, with relief, the idea that it was only caring about you. Too many times, he finds himself wanting to ask what you didn’t say.

The three of you all agree that he should stay on the ship more during those kinds of missions. There’s really no reason for you all to be off the ship, anyway. You’re usually the only one that interacts with people like that, the only one that seems comfortable putting yourself out there like that. Vernon hates that you feel like you have to take those jobs, hates that you’re willing to go to those lengths. Although you tell him a lot, he doesn’t know that you don’t mind that part of it. That you don’t see yourself as someone that forms actual romantic attachments, that sex is just sex for you. Just another part of life. 

It’s another mission where you think you may need to get close to a mark, another mission where you think you may need a back room without prying eyes. Whatever that means. This time, Chirron offers to stay on the ship with Vernon. He says it’s because there’s some things he needs to work on, but Vernon sees it for what it is. He doesn’t want to leave the newest team member alone. Chirron is much more perceptive than anyone gives him credit for.

“You know, I never asked you,” Chirron starts, causing Vernon to look up from the transponder he’s fiddling with. “What were you hoping for when you ran onto our ship?”

Vernon considers this for a moment. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet also feels like it was just yesterday. “I’m not sure. I think I just hoped that I could catch my breath long enough to figure out my next move.”

“Not join a team that takes on illegal jobs across the galaxy?” Chirron asks, that dry humor surfacing again.

“No,” Vernon agrees with a small chuckle.

“Why do you stay?” Chirron wonders.

“Trying to get rid of me?” Vernon asks in response.

“No,” Chirron answers immediately. “No, having you around has been good for her. For both of us, really. I’m just curious about why you stay when you don’t have to. Is it just because you don’t have anywhere else to go?”

Vernon, thankfully, is used to Chirron’s way of speaking. So he knows there’s nothing malicious behind the question, only curiosity. 

“No, it’s not that. Not that I have some idea of where to go beyond that one sanctuary planet I’ve heard of,” Vernon says. “I like being around both of you. It feels like I belong? I haven’t felt like this before. It’s nice. Kind of like a feeling of being warm all over.”

“I’m glad,” Chirron says genuinely. 

“I don’t like this part though,” Vernon says and shifts in his seat again.

“The waiting?” Chirron wonders, but there’s something on his face that Vernon can’t place. Thankfully, he carries on. “Or the waiting when you know what she’s doing?” 

Vernon frowns at that. He’s still not sure he has the right name for this feeling. “Why does she put herself in positions like this?”

Chirron shrugs. “Don’t know. I’ve tried to tell her that some jobs aren’t worth it, but it’s like she has to prove something. To who, I’m not sure.”

“You don’t stop her, though,” Vernon observes.

“No, I don’t,” he agrees. 

“Why?” Vernon presses.

“Because, as you saw on that mission a few weeks ago when she sent us away, she’s going to do it anyway. I know the difference between when something is actually dangerous and when it’s just not what I would do. So I let her go unless it’s actually dangerous,” Chirron says. 

“It still doesn’t feel good,” Vernon admits. 

“No, because you care about her,” Chirron says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“Of course I do, I care about both of you,” Vernon says. “You care about her too.”

“I do,” Chirron agrees and that look is back, “but not the same way as you do, I don’t think.”

“Are there multiple ways to care for someone?” Vernon asks. 

Chirron chuckles, a low, comforting sound. “Of course. There’s the way her and I care about each other, like family. Like someone that could drive you absolutely insane, but you still love them and you’d still be there for them in a friendly way.”

“And what’s the other way?” Vernon wonders.

“Caring about them like you have feelings for them. Like they’re the first one on your mind when you wake up or the last one on your mind before you go to sleep. Like you just want to be around them and feel a little empty when you’re not. Like you’re not entirely sure what you’d do if one day they just weren’t there anymore,” Chirron explains.

“Oh,” is all Vernon can say. 

“I don’t know how you feel, or how she feels, but it doesn’t seem like just the kind of caring like it is between her and I,” Chirron says. “I love her and I’d do anything to protect her, but I don’t have feelings for her.”

“Do I?” Vernon asks quietly.

“I don’t know, only you can figure that out,” Chirron says. 

Feelings are difficult, Vernon thinks as he contemplates Chirron’s explanation. Every time he thinks that he’s got a handle on them, something else comes up to throw him for a loop. His body almost relaxes to help the fact that his mind is going entirely too fast. Chirron, seeming to sense that he gave Vernon a lot to think about, goes back to what he was working on before the conversation. 

It’s easy to be around Chirron, something Vernon has known since the beginning. But now he realizes that it’s easy in an entirely different way than being around you. With Chirron, there’s a comfort and a familiarity and definitely a care. Just like he describes feeling about you. With you, it’s entirely different. Vernon finds himself wondering about your past, wanting to know every detail even though you’ve shared a lot. He wants to know what you think, especially when you go silent. What thoughts are you keeping to yourself and why don’t you want to share them? 

The worst, though, is easily the way Vernon feels when you’re off on your own like this. He’s not sure how to put it into words or how to even Chirron about it. Or if he even wants to ask Chirron about it. He just knows that he doesn’t like it, that it makes him feel unsteady and unfocused. That he makes mistakes on whatever he’s working on when he thinks of this aspect of the jobs. It’s like he wants to lash out at the marks or the clients that hire them in the first place. He wants to let these people know that you’re not actually interested in them. That it’s only for work. But is that true? 

“Chirron, can I ask you something?” Vernon finally asks.

“Sure,” Chirron says. He’s much more relaxed around Vernon, probably because he doesn’t try to rile Chirron up.

“I’ve got this feeling that I’m not sure about, it pops up when we’re on missions like these,” Vernon begins before outlining just how he feels when he thinks about what you’re doing.

Chirron is quiet, thoughtful as he listens, giving Vernon his full attention. He lets Vernon finish uninterrupted before he’s quiet for a second. “Well, it sounds like jealousy.”

“Jealous of who? Of her?” Vernon asks. He knows what jealousy is, just like every other emotion, because it’s simply knowledge of the existence of emotions. He doesn’t know how it feels though, not really. Like every other emotion, it’s something he’s had to learn as he goes.

“Of the people she’s with,” Chirron answers, amused.

“Why would I be jealous of them?” Vernon asks. 

“I can’t tell you the why, Vernon, you know that,” Chirron says without any hint of frustration. “I can just say what it sounds like. Which is that you’re jealous she’s behind closed doors with someone other than you.”

“You think I want…to do that, I don’t even know…I’m not sure how something like that would even work,” Vernon splutters, tripping over his words worse than he’s done in a while. 

Chirron takes pity on him and only gives him a sympathetic look. It allows Vernon to gather his thoughts before he says anything else. A blessing, actually, because a minute later, the door opens to allow you back onto the ship. You look a little like you’ve been up to something that Vernon doesn’t really want to consider. Like you tried to straighten yourself out again, but couldn’t quite get everything. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice the tension in the air and just immediately go to pull out something to eat. Life moves on for you like nothing else happened.

Thankfully, Vernon can pretend he’s working on reprogramming a communicator, something he needs to do for a job anyway, and stay back away from the cockpit of the ship. He also knows that you’ll eat up there with Chirron to talk about how things went. To talk through the finer details of the information you were able to extract. You don’t talk to Vernon about those details and he doesn’t stop to think about why. He’s just glad you don’t. Not that you go into explicit detail with Chirron. It’s just…well maybe Chirron is right. Maybe Vernon is jealous because he’s got deeper feelings for you. 

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

It’s supposed to be easy. That’s what you say. You don’t take on jobs that would put the team at too much of a risk and you don’t ask them to do anything they don’t want to do. You haven’t even taken on a job recently where you’d have to leave Vernon and Chirron on the ship while you entertained a mark. This is an exception, you say, too good of a job to pass up given that it should be simple. So simple.

Vernon makes it back to the ship before Chirron does, which makes sense. All Vernon had to do was meet with one of your contacts to swap out some tech he’d been using. After all this time, Vernon isn’t entirely sure what Chirron does when he’s off the ship. He asked once and didn’t get a straight answer. You shrugged it off and said that Chirron does a lot of things, some of which you don’t even know or understand. When you didn’t seem concerned, Vernon let it go as well.

Once Chirron gets back, Vernon pays more attention to the feeling in his stomach since you agreed to this mission. Something just feels…off. Not right. He’s trying not to dwell too much on it because he’s very aware it might be, at least in part, due to his feelings for you. Feelings that he now very much recognizes are real. Whatever that means for him. He hates watching you walk away when he thinks about what you’ll be doing. And he agrees it’s best for him to stay on the ship rather than risk blowing the mission. 

Except…well now he’s actually getting worried. It’s been too long since you left the ship, longer than usual. Long enough that even Chirron doesn’t shoot Vernon down when he brings up his concern. Which only serves to concern Vernon more because Chirron is almost always level. Even now, only his eyes give anything away when Vernon mentions just how long it’s been since you left the ship. After several minutes of back and forth, Chirron agrees that it should be Vernon that leaves the ship to try and find anything out about you. As much as Chirron tries to stay in the shadows, he’s been working with you for years now and people automatically associate him with you. 

So Vernon enters the building, manages to figure out where you had gone without raising any suspicions. After all, your reputation for chasing after pleasure proceeds you. Something Vernon is cursing himself for even considering. The thought flies out as soon as he’s in the room and he sees you lying on the couch, covered in cuts and bruises, only half-dressed. He’s beside you in what feels like a second, checking to make sure he feels a pulse. But, up close he can hear your slightly labored breaths. It could be worse, he reminds himself, as he gets you dressed and wraps you up. He doesn’t want it to be obvious just how beaten up you are before he’s had time to think. Or to consider what you’d do in this situation. Everything in him shuts down apart from the need to get you out a back door and onto the ship as quickly as possible.

Back on the ship, Vernon collapses into the booth while Chirron takes over and takes you into the sleeping cabin. Thankfully, Chirron knows enough basic First Aid that he’ll be able to patch you up before taking you to see a professional. Someone that you and Chirron trust enough to take you there. But, for now, he’s cleaning your wounds and wrapping you up as best he can. Vernon knows he should be helping, knows that an extra set of hands would help. He just…can’t. Can’t seem to find the strength to see you in this condition. He’s just amazed he got you back to the ship without losing it or without anyone seeing you. And thankful, so very thankful, that Chirron is keeping it together. 

Without a word, Chirron emerges from the sleep cabin and heads straight for the front of the ship. Vernon’s barely even sat down in your usual seat before the ship takes off. Chirron doesn’t fly too high, he’s just going to a different part of the planet. That’s what he said when he said that you and him knew someone that could help. It both feels like an eternity and no time at all when the ship lands again. Vernon expects to help you off the ship. Instead, Chirron tells him to stay put, that he’ll be back. 

Doc, that’s what Chirron calls him, looks like a man that’s aged beyond his actual years. He looks like he’s seen more than most people would over several lifetimes. Yet, he seems kind. Seems like he could be anyone’s father or uncle. This time, Vernon does actually follow them back to the sleep cabin, careful to stay out of the way. Doc starts taking stock of you and attaching a number of devices to various parts of your body. They start beeping and it should calm Vernon, because at least something is happening. They don’t, though. All he can think is that you shouldn’t have been in this position in the first place. This was the wrong job to take. 

Vernon’s learned a lot about emotions during the time with you and Chirron, a lot more than he learned in all his time before. He knows, now more than ever, that he cares about you far beyond just being friends. He knows that he’s never felt this kind of fear. Knows that he can’t be still, even for a second. It’s always been like this, Vernon has always suffered from restlessness. It’s a million times worse now. And it’s getting in the way of your care. Somewhere in his pacing and mumbling, something he doesn’t even realize he’s doing, Chirron sends him away. Doc gives him a sympathetic look, like he understands, before turning back to you. 

It’s not any easier to be outside of the sleep cabin because Vernon can still hear everything that’s happening. The entire ship is silent except for the work Doc is doing. Not seeing what’s happening is even worse and Vernon’s restlessness turns into something more like anxiety. He can’t imagine going on without you. Not that anyone has said that would be a possibility. In fact, Doc seems to think you’ll be fine in no time. Most of the injuries are merely surface level. Chirron comes back out with a list of things that they need and tells Vernon to go take care of it. It’ll help you and help him in the process. He’s not doing anyone any good in the state he’s in now. 

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

It takes a few days, but you’re mostly back to your normal self. The worst part, for you, is that you fractured one of your ribs. So that means rest, Doc’s orders. Vernon was happy to hear it because it meant that you had no choice but to take a break. Chirron seemed pleased as well, saying once Doc was off the ship, he’d take you back to the homebase. 

You, however, wake up back home and seem irritated. Remind both Vernon and Chirron that you still have a job to do. Can’t seem to wrap your head around your injuries or the severity of the situation. That’s the first time that Vernon sees Chirron raise his voice with you. It’s the first time he sees the usually calm force standing firm in his position. You’re on bedrest for now so that you can actually heal. Together, you can all figure out what to tell the client. But your health is most important or it’ll be a lot longer than a matter of weeks that you’re out of commission. 

Vernon doesn’t get to listen in on the conversation about what happened. It’s Chirron’s decision, saying that he thinks it’ll just be easier. So Vernon doesn’t know what happened, not really. Sure, he can guess and probably paint at least a picture. Does he really want to know, though? He’s not sure. He doesn’t want the details of just how you were going to get the information, so maybe it’s better like this. What he does need, though, is to talk to you. Chirron gives him that chance as soon as he can, which Vernon is thankful for.

“You look better,” Vernon says after a light knock on your door frame. 

You laugh lightly and Vernon worries for a second, but you seem fine. “Wow, you really know how to butter a girl up.”

“I was worried about you,” Vernon says as he crosses to sit in the chair next to your bed.

“It takes a lot more than that guy to take me down for real, sweetheart,” you offer. 

Vernon’s jaw clenches. “Still.” 

“Hey,” you say and reach out to take his hand. “I’m really okay. I’ve had worse than this, I promise.” 

“You think that makes me feel better?” Vernon wonders with a shake of his head. 

“This is a dangerous line of work,” you say.

“I’m aware of that,” Vernon answers. 

“What’s really on your mind? Chirron’s worried about you,” you admit. 

“We could have lost you,” Vernon says, barely more than a whisper. “I could have lost you.” 

“But you didn’t,” you say gently.

“But I could have and it’s like,” Vernon presses, pausing to think of the right word. “It’s like you don’t even care. Like it’s all a joke.”

“Of course I care, Nonie,” you say. Vernon tries, and fails, to stop his heart from skipping over the nickname that falls so easily from your lips. “This is the job, I know you and Chirron were worried about what was going to happen to me…”

“This isn’t about Chirron,” Vernon snaps and you pull your hand away from his. 

“What is it about?” you ask, guard up. 

“It’s about me almost losing you. About me feeling something that I didn’t even think I was capable of feeling and then worrying I’d lose you before I ever got to tell you,” Vernon says. 

“Vernon, I don’t think…” you start again, only to fall silent at whatever look you see in his eyes. 

“I know it sounds crazy, I know what I am,” Vernon says without meeting your gaze. “We were never supposed to be more than robots. I’ve heard it all. Nobody ever could have predicted that we’d get a consciousness. Nobody seems to know what that even means or what it is. I just know that I ran from the only other beings that I’ve ever known straight onto your ship. And I thought it’d be scary or I’d regret it, but I don’t. You taught me and guided me without making me feel less than. I was teetering on the edge of way too much…whatever this restlessness is. You were like a balm for that.” “I’m glad,” you say, voice just as quiet. “It’s easy to be around you, Vernon. I’m glad you feel at ease here.”

“I don’t understand how…feelings work or what they mean, not when it comes to what I feel for you,” Vernon says. He looks at you, so hopeful. “Maybe we can figure it out together.”

“Vernon, I’m not…I don’t think I’m built for something like that,” you say, pleading for him to understand.

“You don’t care about me?” Vernon wonders.

“No, of course I do,” you disagree. “I just…I don’t know what I really feel either. I just know relationships, they’ve never been what I sought out. They get too complicated in this line of work where anything can happen.”

“So leave,” Vernon offers, like it’s so easy.

“Leave?” you question.

“Yes, quit doing this kind of work. Leave and start a new life away from all of this,” Vernon pleads.

“And what? Just abandon Chirron?” you ask angrily.

“Of course not,” Vernon retorts. “You and I both know that he only stays because you’re family to him. He doesn’t want to do this forever.”

“Is that what you and him talk about when I’m off the ship getting information?” You’re angry now, but Vernon thinks he’s a little annoyed too.

“No,” Vernon says. “The only time we’ve talked about you is when he helped me process what I was feeling. I just, it doesn’t take some kind of genius to see he stays because he cares about you.” 

“This is the only life I’ve ever known,” you say, anger subsiding to be replaced by you looking smaller than ever before.

“No it’s not,” Vernon disagrees. “You told me about your family.”

“Don’t bring them up,” you caution.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, surely you see that,” Vernon pleads again.

“If I say no, will you stay? Or are you asking me to choose between you and this entire network I’ve built over years?” As soon as you say it, Vernon knows he’s lost. Knows that you’ve already made up your mind.

“I’m not asking you to choose anything,” Vernon says. “But I’m not going to continue to watch someone that I care this deeply about put herself in so much danger. So you don’t have to leave this life. I’m done, though.”

“What?” You look like you’ve been smacked.

“I’m done,” Vernon repeats. “I can’t go on like this. I can’t feel the way I do every time you leave the ship. I can’t keep wondering if I’m going to find you in an even worse position. So, I’m leaving. I’d love for you to come with me, but you’ve made your position clear.”

“So, that’s it?” you ask.

“That’s it,” Vernon confirms.

He leaves the room for long enough to say his goodbyes to Chirron, who doesn’t seem surprised that it’s going like this. He’s sad, for sure. Vernon knows what he said was true, Chirron would leave if he could, but he won’t leave you alone. The two of you are family and Vernon’s thankful that you’ll still have someone to depend on. 

There’s nothing left to say to you, nothing but all the things left unsaid. Things that he wishes he could say and things he knows you want to say. Things neither of you will say to the other. Which is fine. It has to be. Vernon has gotten a crash course in humanity, so he tries to squash down the disappointment when he says goodbye to Chirron and you don’t even bother trying to stop him. Barely registers Chirron asking where he’s going. Truthfully, he doesn’t have a plan, so he blurts out the first thing to come to mind. He’s heard of another planet, he thinks it’s called Lumen, that’s something of a sanctuary planet. He’s going to need time to get things together before he can depart. This isn’t something he’d really thought would happen. For the time being, he’s going to stay with another of your contacts that he’s worked closely with since joining the team. One of the only other beings that he trusts apart from you and Chirron.

Just like that, he’s out the door without a backward glance to see that you got as far as your door. Without seeing the way your face falls at him leaving. Without seeing the way Chirron shakes his head at the situation. But you don’t call out, don’t try to stop him. You just let him go like there aren’t any other options. 

*+:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+*

It takes a couple weeks to arrange the transport (and Chirron helping Vernon out by sending credits and outstanding favors to cash in along without you knowing) to Lumen. He stays with a contact he met while working with you that knows someone named San. That’s where the idea of Lumen comes up. It seems like there’s a chance Vernon’s other members are there. And if Vernon has a chance to see them again, he has to take it. Even though he wants to see them all, he really hopes Seungcheol is there. If not for the leader, none of them would have been able to escape.

Vernon gets a last message to Chirron to let him know that he’s leaving in two days. Somewhere in the back of his brain, Vernon hopes that Chirron will share the message with you and maybe you’ll say goodbye. You don’t. Even though Vernon wants to be upset, and he is, he’s still thankful that Chirron helped in the first place. He knows that without that help, he wouldn’t be able to get on a ship to Lumen. 

The journey itself is uneventful. Vernon’s spent enough time on your ship to be used to the travel, but he’s still worried initially that something will go wrong. It’s got him a bit on edge, to say the least. Until he realizes that this isn’t one of your jobs, this is just a regularly scheduled trip to Lumen that the ship was taking anyway. The only difference is one extra passenger. It’s not until they approach the planet’s atmosphere that he starts to get nervous again. The crew agreed that Lumen seems to be a sanctuary planet, and that’s great. It’s just, well Vernon hasn’t really considered what to do when they land. 

The planet is beautiful, like what it seems like Earth looked like before, at least from pictures he’s seen. There’s so much life and color everywhere that immediately puts him at ease. He’s still skeptical, how could he not be? But there’s also a sense of immediate relief that washes over him. WIthout even realizing it, he thinks that this is home. At the dock, he inquires about a place to stay, hesitantly admits that he’s a level 1 automaton, and says he doesn’t have many credits to barter with. What he’s not prepared for is the smiles that form instantly. Someone tells him about a house that he might be interested in and gives him directions. 

It’s not long before he’s approaching the large house, far bigger than he’s expecting it to be. This is definitely too much for him to stay in when he’s not sure how he’s going to afford anything. It’s then that he notices someone working in a garden, tending to plants. They look up and smile the second they see Vernon. He can’t quite hear what they say when they turn to look over their shoulder.

And that’s when Vernon’s entire world shifts. The very one he’d been hoping to see comes out from behind the house and erupts into a smile. They’re both moving towards each other, neither quite believing the sight before their eyes. 

“Vernon?” he asks.

“Seungcheol,” Vernon says with so much affection for his leader. 

“Welcome home,” Seungcheol says and hugs him. 

Home. This can be home. Maybe it’ll all be okay. Maybe this is where Vernon was meant to end up all along and maybe working with you and Chirron had just been a stop along the way. 

i'm sorry for leaving it open like that at the end, but it's kind of what felt the most realistic for them. i hope you enjoyed it and check out all the amazing fics 💕

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breakfast with jeonghan

I've wanted to read him for so long :(((

Happy 100th birthday, Ray Bradbury (b. 22 August 1920) 

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ateez as royals who fall for you (hyung line)

genre: royalty!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, a brainrot and smutfest of royal tropes

length: 12.8k

c/w: very nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (sex work, murder, assassination, execution, mentions of misogyny)

a/n: this has simultaneously been the pride and joy of my life and the bane of my entire existence for the last 2.5 months 🥴 and tumblr is an inept incapable CLOWN who cannot handle the full 24k worth of bullet points so here is the hyung line first - maknae line coming soon (yumi @sorryimananti-romantic can vouch for my unsuccessful 3-hour attempt at formatting them into a single post)

hongjoong

pov: you're the king's royal courtesan

“fuck,” hongjoong lets out a deep growl from within his chest as his head dips down to rest against the crook of your neck. “you’re just as tight as last time”

when your hips involuntarily buck from the pleasure, he nudges your thighs further apart and keeps your wrists pinned above your head

he can’t help but let out another groan when he feels your walls clench around his cock as you adjust to his thickness

“i thought- god,” a moan escapes you after he thrusts his hips against you, “thought you never fucked the same woman twice”

“i don’t,” he simply says

and it’s true

hongjoong is one of the youngest princes to have ruled during the kim dynasty, having risen to power after the previous king succumbed early to an unknown illness

he has the choice and selection of all the courtesans available within the palace and outside its walls

hongjoong also has a reputation of being highly sought after by everybody, not just amongst courtesans

it’s not only because he is devilishly handsome, knows how to properly fuck somebody dumb, and is the literal king

the main thing that makes him so desirable and unreachable?

he never sees the same courtesan more than once

“yet here you are,” you hook your legs around hongjoong’s waist to gain leverage and meet his thrusts with your own hips, “between my legs for the second time”

you smirk when he curses and throws his head back

his grip on your wrists tightens and his voice drops dangerously low

“the first time doesn’t count because i was meant to see lady chae. so really, this is the first time i’m requesting for your services”

he silences you from retorting by pressing a bruising kiss against you, lips messily attaching to yours before trailing down the sharp angle of your jaw to bite your neck

you are a courtesan for people of nobility and royal status

part of the ‘house of flowers’ and commonly referred to as ‘flower courtesans’, you and the other women are highly-sought after for the companionship you offer

you are well protected by the house of flowers though - the services of companionship that you provide is requested by your client, but is ultimately accepted or rejected by you

lady chae, another of the flower courtesans and one of your closest friends, is requested by the king for her services

it is quite clear what it is going to entail and you both spend several of the following nights giggling and whispering scandalously to one another

whether the rumours about his stamina will be true

whether lady chae will be the first to break his one-fuck rule

except when the day of the meeting comes around, she spikes a sudden fever

lady shin, the head of the house of flowers, takes all but one look at her before ordering her to bed rest despite both of your attempts to, albeit unconvincingly, persuade lady shin that chae’s fever would only serve to help make the king’s dick warmer

lady shin is not amused to say the least

with the last minute hitch, the king agrees for you to be sent out to him as a replacement instead

and you end up being the flower courtesan who he breaks his reputed rule for

(lady chae is initially jealous, understandably)

(but very quickly, she appears to be even more excited than you are as she combs through your undergarments for the “sluttiest set” that she can find)

your attention is brought back as hongjoong flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, continuing to drag his length in and out of you while your back arches off the bed

you tease in between short breaths, “are you really bringing up another woman’s name while you have your cock inside me?”

“you brought it up first,” he reminds you, accentuating his answer with timed thrusts

you grind your hips against his, chasing more friction against your clit as you feel your high approaching

“why?” he snakes one of his hands down between your connected torsos to rub messy circles against your clit, smirking as he asks, “are you getting jealous already?”

for that, you clench down hard on his cock, immediately feeling the way it throbs inside of you as you bring him closer to his orgasm too

“as if. fuck off”

your words are hardly audible from the whines that are leaving your mouth due to the added pressure of another finger against your clit from your retaliation

“i’m close,” hongjoong releases his grip on your wrists so that he can straighten his body, anchoring his hand on your hip instead so that he can fuck you and rub your clit with his other hand with renewed vigour

when you hear him groan, “cum for me,” the string snaps and your whole body quivers in his hold as your orgasm washes over you

hongjoong’s hips gradually stutter to a pause, an occasional thrust inside your clenching pussy as he milks out the rest of his cum inside of you

he finally eases himself out of you and hums in satisfaction as he watches his cum slowly leak out of you

hongjoong drops down beside you, toned chest covered in a sheen layer of sweat as it rises up and down with his pants

when your fuzzy mind has cleared a little from the blissful haze of your orgasm, he strokes his fingertips along the side of your thigh, along the curve of your ass, and over the dip of your waist just under your breasts as he says, “you better not be jealous. first one to get jealous loses”

“if anyone’s going to get jealous first, it’s you,” you scoff back

he raises an eyebrow

oh yeah?

he shoves his leaking cum back inside of you and fingers you to another orgasm

now that shuts you up

for a man who barks, he sure has no bite, because you find yourself being notified by lady shin several days later of yet another request for your services under the king’s name

and another request turns into another

and every single time, hongjoong makes sure that the only word leaving your lips for those many hours is his moaned name

but at the same time, the more you and hongjoong meet, the more he just savours in your simple companionship

he asks you to teach him how to embroider because you’ve mentioned before it’s how you like to spend your free evenings

he rifles through your bag of materials that you bring

you smack his hand away at the carelessness with which he’s upturning everything

“what’s this?” he holds up a large, wooden hoop before trying to fit it through his head, “a necklace?”

“i wonder if people know they appointed an idiot to be king,” you say as you gently unscrew the hoops and demonstrate how to align a piece of fabric between the rings

he watches with interest as you screw the outer hoop tighter until the fabric is nice and taut and then repeat the process so you both have one to work with

you have to help hongjoong thread his needle too, because apparently the king’s fingers are only good for scissoring you open

you weave your own needle through the fabric at a slow pace whilst telling him the different names and uses of the stitches you’re showing him

except, when you look up to see if he’s following?

his own hoop has been abandoned to one side and he’s leaning against his hand as he gazes cheekily at you

“were you even paying attention?”

he sounds a little too confident when he answers not at all

in return, hongjoong shows you how to write hanja the next time you meet

he positions himself behind you with his hand over yours as he guides you through different characters stroke by stroke

he claims that there are specific ways of applying pressure to the brush so he has to be holding your hand at all times

you most definitely roll your eyes several times but you indulge him anyway

there are a lot of giggles and teasing pushes when you accidentally dip the end of your sleeve into the ink and you try to spread it onto his robes too

(the calligraphy may or may not become forgotten when hongjoong pins you down to stop your cheeky behaviour, because things naturally escalate whenever he has you under him)

you two do eventually manage to finish one decent-looking scroll of characters which he ends up gifting you so that you ‘don’t forget’ about him when you’re not with him

when you walk back into the house of flowers, the hanging scroll perks lady shin’s interest as you walk past

“hongjoong taught me how to write my name today”

lady shin waggles her eyebrows at you suggestively because of how casually you refer to the king, for which you nudge her with a shoulder

she laughs then asks to have a look

you unravel the paper to show her but then she makes a funny noise

“that’s not your name? these are the characters for- oh,” she cackles scandalously to herself, as if she has made a secret discovery

“what does it mean?” you hurry to clarify

you wouldn’t put it past him to have taught you a crude phrase instead, like ‘best tits’ or ‘biggest ass’

lady shin lets out an amused exhale, handing the scroll back to you

“it says, my flower”

you’re looking at those exact characters from where you lay on your bed when a knock sounds on your door several days later

lady shin steps into your room with a warm smile as you greet her

“you have an appointment with lord min tomorrow, but the king has just inquired about your service availability for tomorrow,” she informs you. “would you like me to give him the usual answer?”

this isn’t the first time a clash has occurred, particularly with the increasing frequency with which hongjoong requests to see you

you have always told lady shin to ask for hongjoong’s pardon and to offer him an alternative time or day, because in the end, you still need to maintain a professional and admirable reputation as a flower courtesan

and as you open your mouth to tell her ‘yes’, your eye catches the scroll hanging on your wall

my flower

you hesitate

“actually,” you look away from the hanja, “i’ll see hongjoong.”

lady shin gives you a motherly smile as she nods in understanding and closes the door behind her

the next day you see him, he excitedly points out the large tambour frame in his room that he bought just a few days prior, claiming you two can work on a big embroidery patch together now

you give him one look then demote him back to the small embroidery hoop because he still hasn’t learnt his basic stitches yet

(that’ll teach him to not pay attention when you’re demonstrating, ha)

you relent and end up going through the different stitches with him again anyway

and you find that he’s actually not that bad with embroidery once he’s actually focused on the task at hand

it’s nice, basking in each others presence while he threads his little square of fabric and you work with the large frame you have now essentially claimed as yours

not that hongjoong minds; he did buy it solely to make you happy

and then you offhandedly mention that someone had gifted you a handkerchief with your initials embroidered on one of the corners the other day

“i actually have it on me, in fact,” and you take it out from where it’s tucked into your waist so that you can show him

he juts out his chin as he peers down at the delicate letters, huffing, “it’s pretty, i guess”

then as an afterthought he tacks on, “bet i could do a better job”

“are you jealous right now, kim hongjoong?”

said man is hellbent on avoiding your eyes as he picks up his needle and thread again

“no i’m not!”

“whatever you say,” you smirk

after that day though, you don’t receive another request from hongjoong to meet until two weeks later

which, in the grand scheme of things, really isn’t much

but in comparison to the frequency at which you are used to seeing him, the frequency at which your body is used to having him, it is much too long

you are almost beginning to wonder whether you shouldn’t have brought up the handkerchief gift

yet, he greets you with his usual teasing squeeze of your waist, dangerously close to your ass

you make a move to follow him through the doors to his chambers but he turns around to produce a silk cloth

he starts to blindfold you, whispering sultrily, “i have a surprise for you”

you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise at his tone

guiding you inside, hongjoong gently pushes you down so that you sink into the plush duvet of his bed

“do you trust me?” he whispers

trying not to dwell on the urge to lick your dry lips, you answer, “of course”

you feel him tugging slowly on the string that holds the front of your corset together, loosening your dress with tenderness like you are a fragile gift

you shiver when your shoulders are suddenly exposed to the cold air

and then the sensation is followed by the warmth of hongjoong’s soft exhales along the expanse of your collarbones as he leans closer to fully disrobe your shoulders

you have to remind yourself to keep breathing

“you can look now,” he tells you

you remove the silk cloth from around your eyes, unsure of what to expect

it takes a few blinks to readjust your vision to the room around you but then your eyes finally focus

and you gasp

there, hung on the wall with its striking viridian green, shimmering threads and intricate swirls on glorious display, is quite possibly the most stunning dress you have ever laid eyes upon

“try it on,” he encourages

but as you step closer, you realise the lacing across the front of the corset and running down the sleeves of the top dress is in fact, not lacing

it’s patchy

it’s uneven

it has empty areas

but it is no doubt embroidery

“did you…did you make this?” you reach out a hand to lightly caress one of the embroidered flowers, not quite daring to believe that hongjoong would go to these lengths for you

“of course,” he wraps his arms around you from behind and presses a light kiss against your temple, “i’m not losing to a lousy handkerchief”

“is that why you disappeared for two weeks?”

you let out a laugh, sinking into his embrace, because the image of the great king holed up in his chambers for days on end, hunched over your dress with a needle, thread and frown on his face is just too endearing

he lets out a warning huff as he turns you around in his embrace to face him

upturning his hands, he shows you the tips of his fingers and grumbles, “i poked myself so many times for you and you laugh at me?”

you bring his hands closer to your face, pressing light kisses to his fingertips as you smile, “thank you, joong. i love it so much, i really do”

he looks at you impossibly soft

under his tender gaze, something suddenly rushes to your very core

you hold one his hands steady in front of your lips then swirl your tongue out in an experimental lick over his fingers

it’s almost captivating how quickly his pupils dilate and zero in on your tongue

so you dare to bring his fingers into your mouth

you suck on them a little harder

a little deeper

and then you moan around his fingers, “i want you”

he lets out a groan himself, feeling the front of his breeches tighten as his cock twitches

“i- fuck, i didn’t give the dress to you in hopes that it would lead to this,” yet despite his words he is stepping you backwards so that he can pin you against the wall

“i know, but i want you,” you palm his growing bulge, your knees going weak at how hard he already is. “and i need you. now.”

he doesn’t need further encouragement

he shoves the remainder of your clothes aside before inserting his fingers roughly between your folds

it doesn’t take long for him to bring you to your first orgasm, curling his fingers relentlessly as you ride them

he spreads your cum over your pussy and you buck your hips with a whine when he circles over your clit briefly

then he’s turning you around and bending you over, one of your hands bracing against the wall, your other arm held behind your back by hongjoong’s firm grasp

“fuck, you’re so wet,” his whole body shivers with pleasure as his cock slips right into you

the obscene sounds of his hips slapping against your ass and your slick being pushed back into your hole over and over again fill the room

and to the clenching of your pussy from another orgasm, hongjoong also cums into you with a guttural groan of your name

he gently carries you to his bed and lays you on top of the covers

he leaves your side for a moment and you listen to him rummage through something while you try to regain control of your quaking legs

when he comes back, you feel him gently spreading your legs and then the ticklish sensation of a soft cloth along your inner thighs

a whine escapes your lips when he rubs over your sensitive clit and hongjoong grips your thigh a little tighter

“be careful what pretty sounds you’re making if you can’t handle another round”

it isn’t until he finishes cleaning you up and lies down next to you to start wiping himself down that you look over and realise what it is that he’s been using this whole time

your mouth drops in disbelief

when hongjoong notices your expression, he smirks, “the man who gave you this has no idea his handkerchief is being used to clean my cum off your thighs”

“hongjoong!” you flush with a laugh. “you are definitely jealous, aren’t you?”

“yes, i’m fucking jealous,” he growls, “you’re the only one i want. you’re the only woman i’ve been requesting for since i’ve seen you. and i want to be the only one who gets to have you, too”

you confess, “well, you can have all of me. because i’ve started refusing other people just for you”

he looks at you for another moment before he’s suddenly straddling your hips

“change of plans,” he says breathily, “i need you again”

“very good plan,” you grind up against him

and then you pause, mirth starting to bubble in your throat, “one last thing though”

hongjoong looks down with amusement in his own eyes, wondering what could possibly be so funny

“that handkerchief?” you start, struggling not to laugh when his eyes immediately narrow, “i never said it was from a man. it was a gift from lady chae”

seonghwa

pov: you're his royal guard

as soon as you notice the movement out of the corner of your eye, your body reacts straight away

you murmur seonghwa’s name with a tight voice and move to position yourself in front of him, unwilling to risk the prince’s safety

one of your hands grasps the hilt of your sword, ready to unsheathe it at the first sign of danger, as your calculative gaze darts between the two young men stumbling closer on the dirt path and the line of forest trees from which they appear

they are wearing simple tunics and breeches with their colour faded and seams loosening from wear

from what you can discern, they are simply commoners, but that does not rule out the possibility that they are bandits

seonghwa seems to think otherwise, though

unsurprising but still grating

the prince places his hand on your shoulder gently in a silent reassurance and request for you to step aside

albeit reluctantly, you force yourself to move to his left

it becomes clear to you as the two figures stop just shy of a few feet away that the term ‘men’ was pushing it - their faces are young and they appear to be no older than seventeen or eighteen

the young strangers dip their head in greeting, one of them apologising as well as he pulls out a tattered map that he extends out for you two to see

“my companion and i are traveling to the village norshaw but seem to have lost our way. would you be able to point us in the right direction?” the one with the map asks

“of course,” seonghwa offers with a kind smile

you watch as the three of them step closer together to look more closely at the map

on high alert, and just as you are predicting, you see the companion shuffle closer to seonghwa, hand inching towards the leather pouch that hangs from the prince’s belt

you catch the subtle motion of seonghwa’s eyes flickering down just an inch

because of how well you understand his body language, you know that it means he has already noticed the thieving intention

but because of how well you understand seonghwa, you know that he isn’t going to do anything about it either

so you strike in his stead

your hand darts out to snatch the thieve’s wrist, twisting his forearm upwards so that he is forced to lean awkwardly towards one side to prevent his elbow from snapping

his partner drops the map, letting out a string of curses and hesitating for all but three seconds before he turns around to flee

scoffing, you threaten the one who is still in your hold, who then bolts with his tail between his legs after you release him

"did you really need to scare them off like that? it's not like i had any money in the pouch anyway," seonghwa chastises with a chuckle

"yes," you deadpan. "i did not spend the last two hours of our trip pausing every fifty meters to wait for you to pick up a rock because you thought it looked pretty, only for them to be stolen by a pair of petty thieves"

"it would have been funny to imagine their faces after realising what they stole," seonghwa grins

“mhm,” you hum, “and the next thing you know, you’ll wake up to your palace ransacked, because word in town is that you can steal from the prince and get away with it”

he levels you with a boyish scowl, “you’re so dramatic. what are you, my mother?”

“no, but i am your royal bodyguard”

“exactly. you are my bodyguard, not my brainguard. if i am to be swindled of my pretty rocks, then so be it”

you roll your eyes out of exasperation, but everything is swiftly forgotten minutes later when you point out a heart-shaped rock and seonghwa rushes over to pick it up

it has been like this ever since the incident occurred - him, the sunshine; you, the sunshine protector

it has been almost four years since it happened

somebody had attempted arsenic poisoning of not only seonghwa, but also those working under him

you had noticed strange discolouring of the silverware in the kitchen and on the table serving his dinner, which prompted an investigation and subsequent discovery of the perpetrator

an act of betrayal and treachery by one of his closest relatives - his very own uncle

seonghwa was - still is - too merciful and tender-hearted to punish his uncle, even if the severity of his uncle’s crimes warranted execution

to have his trust broken so shatteringly hurt seonghwa more than if he were to actually have been poisoned

you still remember like it was yesterday; the sight of the prince slumped against the wall, weighed down by chains of turmoil and despair as whispers fly through the palace of the weak-hearted prince who is unable to deliver fair judgement

it is the sight of the prince looking so small and lost that drives your feet forward to stand before him

as the soft draught coming through the windows tugs gently on your tresses and the flickers of candlelight illuminate the glint of steel in your hand, you make a decision

“i’ll be your sword,” you pledge

not just as his royal guard, but as his haven when he is forced to face corruption and wickedness

and when you see the way his shoulders immediately sag with relief at your declaration, the way he nods like a child who has been reassured that everything will be okay, you tell yourself that seonghwa will never have to dirty his hands as long as you are with him

you will be the dark to his light; the yin to his yang

quietly, you see to it that his uncle is executed for his crimes - your statement to the rest of the palace that prince seonghwa is not to be mocked

neither of you bring it up again, but seonghwa knows

he pulls you into a wholehearted hug, arms enveloping you securely as his chest shakes with shuddering breaths of thank you over and over again

you rub your hand up and down his sturdy back soothingly

it is an action that simultaneously reciprocates his embrace and his crossed line of professionalism

one that starts the shift in dynamic between you both, boundaries of sought comfort blurring with friendship and then something more

where seonghwa is too trusting and too soft-spoken, you become his skepticism and his voice

“you should be more wary of others,” you always remind him

“and you should be more trusty of others,” he’ll retort

yet, he will never make a decision that does not receive your input nor one that you do not agree with

where seonghwa is too gentle and too humble, you become his sword and his shield

you do not waver when you strike down foe, and friends turned foe alike

you speak up and establish firm boundaries when others take advantage of the respect he shows everybody regardless of their class or status

and yet, if you find yourself on the receiving end of someone’s condescension or discriminatory treatment, be it due to your rank as a guard or identity as a woman, seonghwa will be advancing forward to defend you before you can do so yourself

where seonghwa is too innocent and too bushy-tailed, you become his eyes and his caution

your morning walks together always last for longer than they are scheduled for

he stops to watch every butterfly and bumblebee that flutters along the flowery path, and he waits for caterpillars to crawl onto a leaf that he holds by the stem so that he can move the critters off the pathway

you love to watch him and his glittering eyes, his cheeks rosy from happiness and from the air still crisp with morning dew

but you also make sure to watch his surroundings with greater vigilance because the quiet peace that the freshly awoken sun brings simultaneously increases the likelihood of a targeted attack against him

as much as you rib him for being a marshmallow personified, however, and as much as he banters back that you are more than welcome to resign at any time, neither of you want it any other way

seonghwa carries out a lot of gestures that he justifies to himself as being eternally grateful for you and the things you do for him

he likes to gift you flowers he has plucked from his garden or the bushes he walks past that remind him of you

(“that’s actually just a very pretty-looking weed, but thank you, seonghwa,” you tell him on more than one occasion)

(it’s adorable, because the next time he finds a flower, he goes to the length of certifying that it is indeed a flower with the merchant who sells bouquets in the nearby town before presenting it to you, eyes gleaming with pride)

you stand still and let him tuck a flower behind your ear, sometimes braiding your hair gently so that he can weave and secure the stem into your hair, holding your breath as his features fill with the same enrapturement that he would admire a beautiful artwork with

after you voice this out one day, seonghwa supposes to himself that there is not much difference between an artwork and you

not that he’s attracted to you or anything - you just…have an objectively attractive face

yes.

especially when your usually-piercing expression is softened by fatigue, guard no longer up as you sleep slumped over a desk while accompanying him during his late night of studies

he does not realise his feet have moved until he is right beside your resting form, as if the soft exhales escaping from your slightly parted lips are a siren’s song

seonghwa tenderly brushes your stray locks away from your face and behind your neck

except he forgets to account for the fact that you are trained to sleep on the brink of consciousness

the squeal that leaves his mouth when your reflexes kick in and you almost slit his throat resounds at a frequency so high you almost believe it comes from your own mouth

you have a grand time watching his beet red face stutter out an excuse as to what exactly he was doing so close to you

needless to say, that is the last time seonghwa ever tries to do anything while you are sleeping

but as much as he bumbles around, he also reveals his perceptiveness when you least expect it

like now, as you accompany the prince to one of his meetings with numerous advisors and ministers

it is relatively dull and uneventful, mostly a cordial appearance to maintain amicable and loyal relationships with his subjects

conversation is limited to pleasantries and at one point, seonghwa even points out the calligraphy paintings hung at the back of the room

everyone nods with throaty laughs as if the paintings are indeed the most exquisite and tasteful artworks they have ever laid their eyes upon

when you and seonghwa arrive back at his chambers following the conclusion of the meeting, he walks over to his bed and shakes the sleeves of his robe over the expanse of his duvet

and out drops a neatly-wrapped sweet, followed by another, then another, until there are enough to amount to two handfuls

baffled, you look at seonghwa, because these are the very same treats that had been plated on the tables during the meeting

“you smuggled candy out of the room?” you try to keep the amusement out of your voice

he peers into his sleeves to ensure there are no more stragglers, before turning to face you as he waves his hands over the small collection of goods on his bed

as if they are-

“for you!” he exclaims almost proudly. “i saw you eyeing them during the meeting so i took some for you”

okay

most definitely proudly 

you feel something tickling you from within, as if he has reached through your chest to directly caress your heart with a delicate finger

“when did you even…” your voice trails off when it comes out a little fonder than you are expecting it to

“remember the paintings i pointed out?” seonghwa giggles, and you think that the hand in your chest is now cradling your heart completely. “i swiped the sweets when everyone was looking back at them”

“thank you, hwa,” you settle on saying, because you do not trust yourself to say anything else

that is more than enough for him, though

which, of course it is - this is seonghwa, with his huge heart that fills easily with the smallest of things

he eagerly hands you one of the treats and you unwrap it to place into your mouth

you’ve had these before, but this one that he has specially grabbed for you tastes remarkably sweeter

you wonder if his lips will taste the same…

but then you accidentally bite your tongue, hard enough to draw blood, and you realise just how wrong you are for letting those fleeting thoughts into your mind

because while you navigate the world in thick droplets of red and sharp glints of silver, seonghwa sees the world in soft hues of pastel and gleaming rays of yellow

how could the two palettes ever blend together harmoniously?

so instead, you grant yourself one last moment of selfishness and pull him into a hug, a gesture that toes the already shaky borders of professionalism yet can still be excused under the guise of friendship

you realise that he has always meant much more to you, but that is what this will stay as - a mere realisation

seonghwa wraps his arms around your form as he relaxes into the way your bodies naturally meld together

it’s strange how easily you slot into his life, his thoughts, his heart

he wonders whether it’s possible for feelings of appreciation to run so deeply and potently within somebody, like a drug that he cannot get enough of

and when you take a step away from him, leaving his chest feeling physically and emotionally empty, he wonders if he is perhaps…

in love with you

following that incident, it is almost as if a switch flips - both of you take several steps away from the line that has been danced around

but neither of you notice the distance because you are both consumed by your own thoughts

until one of your usual morning walks around the castle walls of his palace

seonghwa is wondering whether the bushes you walk past remind you of the flowers he used to gift you and you are debating whether to reach out to brush a petal out of his half ponytail 

then, like deja vu, your eyes flicker towards the burst of movement as a figure covered in black comes darting forwards with their blade raised intended for murder

you immediately start to unsheathe your sword, feet poised and prepared to defend-

until you are harshly tugged back and the prince steps in front of you to parry the strike that the assassin tries to land

it takes your lifetime of training and experience to snap back into focus and thrust your sword into the enemy’s exposed side

when you are sure he is dead, you whirl around to descend upon seonghwa with a voice trembling from both anger and relief

“what in the world were you thinking?” you yell

“i-”

taking a step forward, you toss your sword to one side, “no, actually. you weren’t thinking at all”

“i was afraid that you would get hurt!” he takes his own step closer

“that is my duty!” the volume of your voice raises even more. “i am willing to lay down my life to ensure your safety! i have been guarding you for years now and you have never acted this way. what has changed?”

for a moment, the only sound that punctuates the silence is your harsh breathing

seonghwa swallows

“my feelings…” he whispers, a stark contrast to the peak of emotions you have been riding. “my feelings for you have changed”

your throat tightens at his words

it is your turn to whisper, a noise of confusion leaving your lips

he takes another step closer, bringing himself to stand right in front of you as he looks down earnestly into your eyes

“i’d rather be the protector, and you be the protected”

“but…why?” your heart races with anticipation

“because i’m in love with you” 

right at the invisible border that has been separating you two for as long as you have been his guard, seonghwa now stands, hands wringing together as he awaits a response

“then that makes the two of us,” you confess

you step forward to take your familiar spot on the other side of the line, except this time you do not stop

you stride over the boundary completely to stand by his side

raising yourself onto your tiptoes, you pull him down slightly by the front of his doublet so that you can press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips

it stretches wider and curves upwards under the nurturing of your own smile

you can’t help but give him another kiss on the other side of his mouth to match the one you just gave him

“from now on,” seonghwa starts, “i’ll be your sword”

you wouldn’t really, and you will fight him to let you continue being his guard, but that doesn’t stop one last teasing question from escaping you

“does this mean i get to retire?”

yunho

pov: you're part of a rebel group

the crown prince is not in his fucking library

for the past three weeks, the crown prince has always been in the royal library at night

until today

under normal circumstances, his royal guards and staff would be alerted to ensure that the deviance in routine is a conscious decision and not an issue of the crown prince missing

except doing that would make your job significantly harder…

considering you have been ordered to assassinate him.

you’re part of the ‘red sun’, a revolutionary movement aiming to overthrow the current monarch

following the debilitating state of the king after falling ill and the subsequent coronation of queen jeong into power, she has since then established numerous royal decrees to keep everyone under her reign on a tight leash

a leash made of barbed wire

people are quick to become resentful and thirsty for an end to the dictatorship and bloodline

although he has made limited public appearances, the crown prince has also developed a reputation rivaling the queen’s

within the second year of the jeong dynasty, red sun has already amassed a multitude of supporters

the focus is currently on growing in numbers, preparing for an imminent revolution and picking off corrupt royals and noblists, be it through incrimination or assassination

dealing with those in positions of higher power is a task only completed by an elite selection of red sun rebels who have distinguished skills and traits that set them apart from peasants and commoners

and you are amongst the elite team

which is why you find yourself staking out on the tiled roof of the imperial palace, clothed in black with a mask and hooded cowl covering your face that blends you in with the darkness of night, on the orders of a higher-up to assassinate the crown prince

except the target is missing; the information you were given is wrong

which never happens

you can’t risk staying around for much longer, especially now that the crown prince has broken his routine

he could be anywhere and so could his royal guards

you shift your body to a crouch and place your hands on the cool tiles beneath you, ready to leave

only to spot a figure, crouched just like you are, on the opposite side of the roof

their face is a black hole of nothing within the shrouded confines of their hood, but you can feel their gaze piercing into you all the same

you run

you scramble to the edge of the roof and nimbly leap off the curved eaves to the neighbouring structure of the study room

when you glance backwards, you see the man - physique now obvious - is keeping up easily along the stepping stones of roofs

this game of cat and mouse isn’t going to work for long

if you don’t get caught by him first, you’re both going to get caught by the palace guards

so you make a split decision and alter your next trajectory lower

keeping your arms outstretched for the eaves, you grab on tightly when your fingers touch the edge of the roof and use your core to kick your legs up to stop your body from slamming into the wall from the momentum of your jump

you let go and drop to the ground like a feline, noiseless, and slink towards a line of trees

then you wait

he’s good, you note to yourself, when the only sound that alerts you to his presence is the quick scuffle of his feet as he softens his impact against the wall and the muted thud of his body landing on the ground

“state your purpose,” he demands, voice low yet firm

you ignore him to ask, “who are you?”

now up close, you can see that the man is wearing attire almost the same as you are, identity also hidden by the his bandana and hood-

wait

even the dark red stitching that subtly replaces the original seam on the right shoulder of his outer clothing is the same

the same as those on the elite team

“one of you,” he confirms your suspicions

except you don’t recognise his voice nor his build

being one of the earliest members of the rebel organisation, you are familiar with all the members who carry out missions like yours

he is not one of them; not one you can trust yet

when you don’t speak, he adds on, “we need to go. the safehouse might be in danger”

we

he refers to the two of you so easily, as if you and him are an unspoken team

you cannot trust this man until you know for sure he is part of red sun, so you ask him

“when is red most beautiful?”

it is a vague question with a fixed answer

one that reflects the heart of the revolutionary itself

during the sunrise of a new beginning 

“during the sunrise of a new beginning,” the man says resolutely

the tension releases from your shoulders 

“okay,” you opt to abandon your original mission. “let’s check on the safehouse”

the man offers you a hand to hike yourself up onto one of the outer walls of the palace before he jumps up himself with ease

you both flip over the top and land in unison

the moon illuminates the ground beneath your feet as you both sprint into the surrounding forest

the safehouse is really just a small hut situated far enough from the palace to stay inconspicuous, yet not close enough to the outer borders of the kingdom to risk discovery by the frequent border patrols

you both slow down as you approach the clearing, steadying your breaths and treading with cautious steps

and then you hear it

the shattering clang of a desperate parry

all it takes is a quick glance at the man by your side before your eyes harden with purpose and your steps are dashing in unison towards the hut

you’re both hit with the smell of a metallic tang in the air, and it’s not from your drawn swords

bursting through the door, you quickly take in the scene before you

several red sun members are scattered around the hut and slumped in varying degrees of injury

it’s easy to spot the intruder; they’re yanking their sword out of a body’s torso as they simultaneously turn to look at you

and it’s hard to miss the royal insignia of the jeong monarch on their chest plate

you have the element of surprise

but only for the next few seconds

you leap forward with the thud of footsteps of your partner following almost immediately, side-stepping once you close the distance to dodge a haphazard swing 

there’s a brief break in defense when the enemy tries to aim for another strike that leaves the gap in the side of their armour exposed

you feel the slight resistance of your sword entering flesh as you thrust it forward into them

except when you try to tug it back out, a hand grasps your own and the hilt of your sword, stopping you from stepping away

the enemy has realised they are not going to make it out of this alive

but if they are to die, then they are going to take one last person with them

you.

you see glint of metal as they use their other hand to swing their sword down onto you, only for it to be deflected at the last second by another sword

the man you have met for barely an hour is now at your side with his towering protectiveness

in one smooth kick, his long leg sends the other careening into the wall of the hut with a mighty slam

you feel yourself jerking forward from the enemy’s grasp still on your hand

but the man next to you quickly tucks you into his side before you are also sent sprawling

“check on the others,” he briefly says, and then he is striding towards the fallen intruder

you only spare him another quick glance and then you rush to the nearest figure on the ground

you go around checking for pulses, and for those who are still breathing, the extent of their injuries

there are several casualties but nowhere near as many if you and the man had not come to check on the safehouse

which suddenly makes you pause in your tracks

how did he know about the attack in the first place?

you stretch your legs from their squatted position next to one of the red sun members and turn around to confront him

except…the man has disappeared

and so has the intruder’s body

days later, the question of whether you will chance upon the man again tonight flits through your mind when you find yourself perched in the very same spot on the tiled roof of the palace that gives you a clear view of the royal library

you have received another order to assassinate the crown prince as soon as you see the opportunity arise

this time, the note is accompanied by a cyanide capsule, a non-verbal message that this mission is to occur with your life on the line

you spot him

he’s preoccupied by the scroll in his hand as he makes his way through the shelves of parchments

you wait until he’s walked far enough into the library before you drop down from the roof, keeping your stance low to ensure you stay hidden as you silently move closer

you take out the jagged dagger from its sheath by your waist as you anticipate it will be too difficult to wield your long sword in the narrow aisles

and there the crown prince stands

he has his back to you, exposing him to your mercy

mercy that you have no intention of showing him

the cruel heir to the throne of an even crueler dictatorship deserves none

“it’s you again, isn’t it?”

you freeze

the crown prince still has not turned around to address you, but you can feel the dark gaze of his eyes on you as if he were looking at you

“you were here a few days ago”

fuck

how he knows you have no idea

what you do know though is that you have about two seconds to make a move before you lose this chance to assassinate him completely, and quite possibly, lose your life as well

the pill you have hidden in the breast of your tunic feels heavy

“you are part of red sun, are you not?”

this time the crown prince does turn around to face you, but it isn’t the nonchalance with which he reveals your identity that makes your head reel

it is the warmth and softness in his gaze and the hint of a smile on his face that does

what the actual fuck

you’re convinced that the crown prince is not only heinous, but also batshit crazy

“i am,” you spit out at him, “with orders to assassinate you, in fact”

his mouth thins into a tight line, “the orders you have received are false”

“sounds exactly like something a crown prince would say to avoid being assassinated,” you scoff

but then his next words change everything

“red is most beautiful during the sunrise of a new beginning”

before you have time to fathom the bomb that has just been dropped, your heads swivel simultaneously towards the entrance of the royal library when a voice calls out for the crown prince

“hide,” he hisses urgently

and then he’s stepping further away to conceal your presence as best as possible

you hear the shuffle of footsteps approaching before they stop, dangerously close to where you’re crouched behind a bookshelf

“apologies for interrupting your time, crown prince,” they say

from where you are you can see the crown prince’s expression clear as he lets out a small huff, “i have told you many times to just call me yunho”

“of course, crown prince yunho”

even though you can’t see the other person’s expression, you can hear the amusement in their voice

they continue, “i have the information you have requested for”

“thank you,” you see him - yunho - receive a small scroll. “the queen does not know?”

“no, i made sure to be as discreet as possible”

yunho thanks the other once again and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when he bows his head in appreciation as he dismisses them

is this the same crown prince as the rumours?

and what is he doing behind his mother’s back?

you don’t realise you’ve been staring dumbly at him until he’s back in front of you with amusement on his face

he stands tall and proud, robes accentuating his stature and nobility

“who exactly are you,” you dare to ask

your voice is small - you feel small, crouched at his feet like a stark physical representation of the power he holds over you

but then he takes yet another step closer and kneels down so that your eyes meet at the same level

“i am the leader of red sun. the creator of the whole revolution”

your ankles actually do give out at that and you have to seat yourself on the floor

because how is any of this possible?

you must have voiced your thoughts out loud, because before you know it, yunho is crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on the floor right in front of you

it makes you feel so strange

the crown prince’s willingness to make himself an equal before you - and even to his staff from earlier

yunho starts to explain

a change in monarch, particularly one of such dictatorship, requires massive momentum and synergy; something he cannot produce alone nor without the support of the people

thus, red sun came into existence for the exact same reason you and all the other supporters have joined

in hopes of a sunrise one day that marks a new beginning

a new leadership

except recently he has had growing suspicious of the presence of a traitor within the organisation, which were confirmed the night the safehouse was attacked

“that night…that man was you,” you realise, “and that’s how you know who i am”

he nods, “and that’s also how i know your orders are false.” yunho nudges you playfully with his knee, “pretty sure i never ordered for my own assassination”

yunho continues to explain that he had taken the intruder back for interrogation, but then you frown when he reveals the enemy had swallowed a suicide pill before any information could be gained

he has an inkling that someone in a high position of power is involved, since the pills are almost impossible to gain access to, but it cannot be ruled out as a coincidence

“hang on,” you pull down the top of your tunic in a hurry

yunho scrambles to cover his eyes and turns his head as he jokingly sputters out, “woah okay, this is moving a little fast don’t you think?”

you tug impatiently on the sleeve of his robe, telling him to look

yunho hesitates for another second before lowering his hands and realising you have-

“a suicide pill?” 

you look at each other, because this can only mean one thing

the pills are not a coincidence; the enemy is much closer than yunho would like

you’re both unsure how much time there is until the traitor decides to order someone else to assassinate yunho, or worse, decides to finish the job off themselves

but from that very night of discovery, you and yunho work together incessantly against a ticking time bomb

it’s a delicate balance between finding as many leads as you can and spreading out your investigations to stay under the radar

yunho tries to look further into the cyanide pills while you try to uncover any information regarding the order you had been given

whoever is behind it all has kept their tracks hidden well

there isn’t much to report from either of your ends whenever you sneak into the palace to meet up with yunho

but he makes it very hard for you to feel discouraged when he makes your meetings seem like casual catch ups between - you dare say - friends

you have yet to catch him by surprise whenever you drop down from the roof in front of him in an attempt to scare him; he has an uncanny ability to sense your presence

except, you think you prefer being unsuccessful, because your indignant grumbles never fail to bring out his toothy grin and an excited body jiggle

other times he is the one trying to fluster you

“remember that time you literally tried undressing yourself in front of me-”

“i was taking the pill out to show you!” 

you bring your thumb and index finger closer together in front of your face and squint at the gap

“i am this close to changing my mind and assassinating you after all”

he gets a kick out of it, pretending to beg for your mercy, “oh please spare me, your majesty”

other times, yunho teases you for always keeping your cowl and mask on

“bet it’s because you’re ugly or something,” he jokes

and you bite back that he had his face covered too when you both met, so you’re one to talk, ugly

“but since then i’ve always shown you my face as the crown prince. you can see me nice and clear,” he suddenly leans forward, so close you can see the dip of his cupid’s brow. “what do you think about me now?”

you swallow hard

you’re glad you have your mask on because you can feel your face rapidly heating up

“i think…” you gently cup his jaw, “you look better with your mask on,” as you nudge his face to the side

you cannot help but join in with your own chuckles at his laughter and boyish glee

and eventually, you two have a breakthrough

yunho manages to trace the cyanide back to a traveling merchant operating under the guise of selling rare herbs and medicine

in the transaction ledger, there is an unusually large purchase under the name of ‘lee minjun’

“i’m sure i’ve seen the name before somewhere, but i can’t remember where,” yunho huffs

you let out your own huff at his elbow that has very naturally taken a rest on your shoulder

pulling out a stack of paper, you spread it out onto the table before you two

they are past records of certain red sun missions that, upon looking back, seem suspicious

“i noticed a mark on a couple of them, a drawing or character perhaps? except none of them are fully intact. it’s almost like the paper was accidentally marked”

you point them out to yunho in hopes that he will have a better idea

he doesn’t - not at first

not until he chances upon two that vaguely align with each other to form a clearer image

“this-” yunho runs his hand through his hair, “this is butler lee’s stamp. my father’s butler.”

the king’s butler?

lee?

your eyes snap to yunho’s, just as his meet yours

“lee minjun”

you sink back in your seat

there’s now definite proof that the king’s butler is at the very least involved

the question of why and what for remains

in fact, you and yunho would not put it past the queen either to be involved too

there is a long moment of shared silence as you both mull over what this means for the future

yunho breaks the silence first

“after this all ends…do you want to work for me, officially?” he clears his throat, “will you stay by my side?”

after this all ends

you two must still uncover butler lee’s motives; likely part of a much grander scheme involving queen jeong too

you two must still bring down the whole monarch; with the support of red sun, yunho needs to sit on his rightful throne

the sun has yet to rise but you can see the faint hues of orange and twilight blue in the horizon

the new beginning is close

and at that, something in you relaxes

crumbles and disintegrates with utter relief

“it would be my honour to stay by your side forever, yunho”

and then you are removing your hood and mask, daring to breathe and feel alive and hopeful for once

ironically, yunho chokes on air

you glance at him to find that he is unable to meet your eyes

you think your eyes are deceiving you because-

the tips of his ears are a glowing red

you could definitely get used to seeing the usually calm and collected crown prince become a shy, blushing mess

the corner of your mouth rises with smugness, “like what you see?”

“you should really keep your hood and mask on,” he mumbles

“and why is that?” you humour him

he finally looks at you

and when he sees the shit-eating grin plastered across your face, his shoulders suddenly fill out again with confidence and cockiness to match yours

“because,” his voice deep and flirtatious, “with a pretty face like that, you’re going to distract me from my duties”

yeosang

pov: you're in an arranged marriage with him

ever since you could understand the words coming out of your parents’ mouths, you have known that you will be married to yeosang

it just made sense

for the respective princess and prince of two powerful kingdoms to join together, leading to increased power and stronger allies

it is tradition for the pair to meet their chosen spouse for the first time only when both parties have turned sixteen, and even then, subsequent meetings are rare until the time of the actual wedding

so you spend the first sixteen years of your life infatuated with the idea of your prince charming - of prince yeosang - wondering what he looks like, what his personality is like, and how you two will fall in love

and when you finally reach that long-awaited first meeting, prince charming is everything and more than what you have envisioned

if angels with broken wings were exiled to earth, they would look like yeosang

he is soft-spoken and slightly reserved, as any awkward teenager meeting their future spouse would be, but you don’t miss the way that his eyes overflow with adoration and his shoulders shake with exuberant giggles whenever his little sister, yeoreum, comes tottering into the room

he always bends down onto one knee to match her eye level, uncaring of the stains that mark his pants even as his mother narrows her eyes in disdain, and he listens with utmost sincerity when yeoreum tells him about the secret pink and glittery fairy she spotted in the courtyard 

they remind you of the relationship you share with your own little brother, juwon, who is barely half your age and height, yet has you wrapped around his little finger

you lean down closer with a hum at the soft tug on your dress to hear your little brother whisper conspiratorially into your ear, “he looks stupid”

if looks could kill, yeosang would be dead right now

you stifle a laugh as you flick juwon’s chin affectionately at his sudden display of childish jealousy

if anything, you’re pretty sure you are the one who looks stupid

stupidly in love

because walking away from that first meeting with yeosang and his family, you know that you are absolutely smitten for the prince

unable to quell the restlessness of having to wait until the next unforeseeable meeting, you pick up a quill that very same day you return to your palace and start writing

it takes you all night, the gentle gleams and winks of the stars keeping you company until they rotate shifts with the songs of the waking world

but by the time you have crossed out and scrunched your way through rolls and rolls of parchment paper, you are satisfied with the letter you have written

the letter addressed to prince yeosang, which you task eunju, one of your maids, with passing it to the royal couriers for delivery to the kang palace

it is a simple letter, thanking him for the enjoyable day, yet it holds the deeper message that you are interested in him and would like to become better acquainted before your marriage

you wonder whether his cheeks will flush a pretty red as his butler hands him your letter

whether he will trace his fingers delicately over the curve of your words

whether he will bite back a smile as he pictures you saying the words to him

two weeks pass, and you approximate the letter to have just been delivered to his kingdom

and although you desperately wish for him to immediately sit down with a quill in hand to pen out his reply, you wait and give him a week before you eagerly start counting down the days until the arrival of his letter

your whole life you have been able to wait patiently

you wonder what has changed now that mere weeks feel like an eternity

the day yeosang’s letter is due to arrive, you are sporadic bursts of giggles, twirls and skips throughout the palace

even juwon is starting to become sick of getting swept up into a crushing hug to the cheery tune of i loveee youuuu every single time you pass him

nothing can bring you down from cloud nine

only…the letter never comes

not the day after, not the week after, not the month after

you’re disappointed, of course, but you busy yourself with reasons why yeosang has not replied, and you don’t give up

you send him another letter, and then another, and another

sometimes you just tell him about your day - what made you smile, what made you sad, something interesting you saw, something your little brother said

other times you tell him about yourself - your hobbies, likes and dislikes, aspirations, fears 

and you also wonder about him

you ask what he likes, what he smiles at, what makes him sad, what his dreams are

with each letter that you hand over to eunju to be delivered, it becomes harder and harder to stay optimistic - not even the words of encouragement from your favourite maid lifts your spirits

you continue like this for over a year, still yet to receive a reply 

until-

you do.

it feels like you are brought back to that very night of your first meeting, feeling so very alive as hope and excitement cascade into your body the moment eunju hands you a letter with a smile

with shaking hands, you fumble to unpeel the wax seal and free the envelope’s contents - a single piece of paper, neatly folded

your mind races with anticipated words and explanations

perhaps he had been too shy to reciprocate your letters earlier

or perhaps your letters had been lost in transit

you unfold the parchment as the hairs on your skin raise in anticipation, only to find it blank save for one scrawled sentence in the middle of the paper-

stop sending me letters.

and just like that, the clock strikes twelve

your carriage reverts into a pumpkin

and your carefully curated story of prince charming disintegrates into ashes

you don’t write to him again.

years later, the stacks of parchment scrolls on the wooden desk of the guest room you are currently residing in feel like a fresh slap in the face each time your eyes land on them

they are a stark reminder of your very own letters, the cold rejection you received, and the irony of the only letter you ever received again following his being one from the kang monarchs, announcing the proceeding of the royal wedding between you and their son

now, only a few days newly-wed to yeosang, the king and queen are gracious enough to let you sleep in one of the guest rooms temporarily, under your claims of adjusting to a life in a new kingdom and as a wife

really, you are trying to avoid yeosang for as long as you can

you spend your time instead getting to know his little sister better, which is why you find yourself sitting side by side with yeoreum, legs dangling off the edge of your bed

she eyes the vase of flowers on your bedside table curiously, “did you buy that?”

“no,” you reach out to touch the baby’s breath, “someone delivered it to my room”

you had offhandedly mentioned to some of your staff the other day that flowers would make your room look more homey, and you had woken up the morning after to find the beautiful vase teeming with flowers next to you

“why?” you ask yeoreum when she hums thoughtfully

“it looks just like the vase in my brother’s room, but he’s weird about it. yeo never lets anyone touch it, much less have it”

you blanch a little, “in that case i’ll give it back to him later then”

“you don’t like it? or…you don’t like my brother? my brother talks about you a lot, you know,” she reveals

caught off-guard by her perceptiveness, you reveal that you have been hurt before

you don’t specify by what exactly or who it is that you’re talking about, but she seems to understand regardless

later that night, sweet yeoreum barges into yeosang’s room and with as much feistiness as she can muster, she glares at her brother and interrogates, “what did you do to make her upset?”

before he can so much as blink, yeoreum concludes, “you boys are dumb. go talk to her and fix it or something,” and then walks out with a huff

there’s no one there to witness it, but yeosang nods anyway

heart feeling a little heavy after your conversation with yeoreum, you head towards the kitchen to seek solace in the sweet pastry you are usually served each morning

the first time you tasted the danish pastry, decorated with strawberries and cream cheese, was when you had traveled to yeosang’s palace at the age of sixteen for your first meeting

you remember the blissful expression that had bloomed across your face with your initial bite, and no dessert ever captivated your tastebuds quite the same way ever again

if there is one good thing out of this arranged marriage with yeosang, then it would be the reunion between yourself and the strawberry danish

“your highness,” the head chef bows, followed by the rest of the staff in the kitchen, “how may we help you?”

when you ask for one of the pastries, the head chef apologises that there are none

“but we can make you one now, if you do not mind waiting”

you tell him not to go to the trouble and ease his worries, “i just thought there may have been leftover pastries”

“we make only one fresh every morning, specifically for you,” the chef explains, and confusion must settle across your features because he adds on, “his highness has expressed that you may like them”

oh?

flustered, you can only muster a short response of, “i do, thank you,” before you smile once more and excuse yourself

because of all people to notice and remember such a small detail, and then to go out of their way to put in the request with the kitchen on the off chance that it was still true, it was yeosang? 

first the vase, and now this

you feel something deeply buried inside of you start to stir but you rush to nip it in the bud

your head and your heart are beginning to wage war against each other and suddenly everything feels like it’s too much

when you reach your bedroom, you throw open the double doors to step out onto the balcony, welcoming the chilling breeze of the darkening sky

you’re tired of fearing rejection if you open up

you’re tired of questioning yeosang’s intentions

and on top of it all, you suddenly miss home and you miss your parents and you miss juwon and-

“are you okay?”

yeosang’s soft question startles you, having missed his knocking at your door

he walks closer to join you out on the balcony when he sees that the answer is obviously a no, and he prompts you again, “what’s wrong?”

thoughts of vases and strawberry pastries flit across your mind

you start with half truths

“just missing my little brother”

“you love him a lot, don’t you,” yeosang smiles sweetly, “i can see it in the way you take care of yeoreum”

you can’t help the heat that slowly creeps up the back of your neck and to your ears, because it implies that he’s noticed all the times you’ve showered his little sister with the same love you give to juwon

it implies he’s noticed you

“what’s your fondest memory of juwon?” he asks when you nod

something within you thaws slightly at the fact that yeosang remembers your little brother’s name

you step closer to the edge of the balcony so that you can overlook the garden outside your room a little clearer, resting your hand on the railing as yeosang waits patiently

“we used to have this game we played. we had a lot of gardenia flowers growing around our courtyard and juwon loved cutting some to make me a mini bouquet,” you pause to shake your head with a chuckle, “it drove our mother nuts”

“doesn’t sound like it stopped him from continuing though, did it?” yeosang questions with mirth

“no, it didn’t,” your heart aches with fondness. “he would use a certain number of gardenias and make me guess what phrase containing the same number of letters he had in mind” 

it never failed to tug your mouth into a smile whenever juwon giggled at your attempts to guess the flower phrase, even when most times he would bound away whilst singing answers like y-o-u s-t-i-n-k or d-u-m-b d-u-m-b

yeosang supports himself on the railing with one hand as he nearly folds in on himself in laughter, and before you know it, you too are gasping for air and wiping away tears from your eyes

when you both calm down relatively enough, only intermittent chuckles leaving your lips, yeosang clears his throat and scratches his neck awkwardly

“i know it might not be much, but maybe we can go out into town tomorrow and it might take your mind off things? and we can bring yeoreum along if that makes you feel more comfortable, because you’ve probably spent more time alone with her than you have with me?”

you don’t admit it, but you’re already feeling a little better, so you decide to tease, “are you asking me out on a date right now, kang yeosang?”

“oh, well, we’d be doing things a little backwards since we’re already like, married…but, yes? maybe? is that okay?”

it’s yeosang’s turn to flush a deep red as his usually composed demeanor is reduced to stutters, but you don’t notice under the faint glow cast by the moon now reigning the sky

“yeah, that’s okay”

you and yeosang smile fondly as your little trio stroll through a nearby town the following morning, his younger sister skipping ahead to peer at the colourful trinkets being sold at the market stalls, and your own small squad of royal soldiers following behind at a respectful distance

it’s kind of endearing how yeosang points out item after item, asking whether you like it or whether you find it pretty, in a not-so-subtle attempt to learn about your preferences

you have to stop him from buying you something from every second stall you both pass, but you’re unable to convince him from purchasing a small wooden toy as a gift for juwon, insisting that you give it to your little brother the next time you see him

the more you actually interact and talk with yeosang, the harder you find it to associate him with the memory of the yeosang in your rejected letters

because the equation of the letters, the vase and the pastries just does not add up

as you two sit under the awning of a small shop, watching yeoreum play with the shopkeeper’s dog, you find yourself unable to hold back anymore

“why didn’t you reply to my letters?” you break the silence, trying to hide the hurt laced in your voice

yeosang looks at you with wide eyes as his mouth stutters open

and in the smallest voice you have ever heard him speak with, he says

“you wrote me letters?”

your eyebrows knit together as your eyes dart back and forth between his, searching for any hint of deception

“too many to count,” you confess, “until you sent a letter telling me to stop…”

“impossible. i never got your letters” 

your head recoils back as you try to make sense of his words, “but-”

“wait,” he interrupts

yeosang reaches into his robes, pulling out a small, wooden block, extending it out closer to you as he asks, “do you recognise this?”

upon closer inspection, you realise it’s a square seal stamp

it has the character ‘姜’ carved into it and you’ve seen it enough times to know it represents the kang family name - but the inscription that stylises the border is unfamiliar

“not the seal, no”

he swallows apprehensively, “i stamp all my letters with this to certify authenticity”

you let his words sink in as they throw you into a sandstorm of bewilderment

“but then-”

but then who wrote the letter?

and where did all your letters go?

the only people who would have known about them would be the royal couriers and…eunju

a memory flashes through your mind - the moment she handed you a letter with a smile

no, not a smile, you realise

a smirk

you are simultaneously overwhelmed with betrayal, guilt and apologeticness

yeosang doesn’t push you for a response, and you come to recognise that you are also grateful

“i’m sorry for doubting you,” you tell him

it’s nowhere close to the amount of things you want to confess, but it is a start, one that yeosang picks up on and understands immediately

“no, i’m sorry you felt the need to doubt me,” he offers. “that i didn’t make you feel loved enough”

“but i did, actually. the vase and the pastries, then our conversation last night…and even today”

he blushes a deep red as you list the things off with your fingers

“you weren’t meant to find out about the first two,” yeosang admits as he ducks his head shyly

then he suddenly perks up with a sudden thought

he ruffles inside his satchel that had been abandoned to one side, mumbling, “my sister said i did something to upset you…so i um, got you these” 

he turns around to reveal of bouquet of flowers, looking a little rough for wear after being hidden in his bag all morning, but his clumsy consideration only serves to makes your heart skip dangerously

“forgive me?” he asks cheekily, and you both giggle at the absurdity of his question because it should very well be the other way around

“if you insist,” you take the bouquet into your hands

and finally, you allow the chains around your heart to fall away, “i can’t say no to my husband, can i?”

yeosang lets out a little squeak as you look at the bouquet more clearly, counting the number of flowers

you turn to ask if he remembers the game you told him about, but the way yeosang suddenly finds the patch of dirt near his foot absolutely fascinating tells you everything that you need to know

eight flowers

eight letters

i l-o-v-e y-o-u

Hello, I was wondering if I could make a request for jeonghannie 😢😢, how would he react to seeing you breastfeed your baby in front of him?

95'S LINE SVT AS DADS

dad!jeonghan, dad!joshua, dad!s.coups x reader

a.n: hihi, this was so cute,, thank you for requesting!!

I thought about adding something and making Jeonghan(+ the 95's line) as a dad, hope that's okay and I hope you will like it !!

hcs ; + short scenario ; separated ; fluff ; 1.9k wc. ; BLUSHING OVER ALL OF THEM

JEONGHAN [정한]

Imagine him with a daughter. the devil duo. A duo that everyone fears because of the pranks they play every day. So, good luck dealing with the female copy of Jeonghan… He would be adorable though; he would do anything to make his daughter happy and would also tend to spoil her to see her smile…he would let her find her hobbies and then become her biggest support!! He throws a tantrum when your daughter wants to stay with you. he might even pout and huff as he tries to get your attention, but you would keep to annoy him - and even if he does not admit it he loves it. In fact, he would love most of all when your daughter is with you. the two people who make him happy most in the world sleeping peacefully in your bed; he would lie down with you to soon fall asleep happily, safe in the knowledge that when he wakes up you would be the first thing he sees.

Starting from the beginning, when you have just become parents. And you are sharing the first experiences, such as the first diaper change, the first doctor's visit, the first clothes and toys purchased, and the first time he saw you breastfeeding your daughter.

Even the most ordinary and natural action you did for your child made him shy as if it reminded him of his love for you.

But not just any love, but the kind of teenage love that brought you together while you were still in high school. That sincere and pure love that marks a newly-arrived feeling, that love that makes your heart beat wildly for something as simple as a gaze or a hand brush.

Looking away, wandering eyes, hand still on the doorknob, body between the doorway and the room, blushing face, unclear and vague speech, a smirk of hidden happiness – these are his reactions to seeing you breastfeed your daughter for the first time.

That would be the first time he understood that your relationship had reached new depths and that something more than ever had been established from your wonderful marriage.

And that for the rest of your lives, you will not only have each other to keep you company, but you will also have your daughter to whom you can pour out all your love.

After you teased a bit but mostly comforted him--there was no need to be nervous after everything that had happened between you--he entered the room and sat down next to you. He didn't want to say anything because he was terrified of interrupting what was happening in front of your eyes. He'd wait for the baby to go to sleep before assisting you with anything you wanted to do. A warm bath? He would make it. Sleep? He would sleep with you. Should I eat something? He has already entered the kitchen.

I don't know how many more times you will have the chance to see Jeonghan so openly available, wanting nothing in return?

Although, in reality, every move he made was an attempt to express his deepest gratitude to you and to truly remind you how much he cares about you.

S.COUPS [ 에스쿱스]

DAD OF TWINS. I won't take no for an answer. I imagine twins, a boy and a girl, whom he would love with all his heart. He would go to both of their games and matches. He would be that father cheering up 24/7 his kid. S.coups plans family outings, finds delicious recipes, and loves playing 24/7 with his children. He would continuously smile when he was with them, and he would do everything he could to spend as much time as possible with his family. And I think he is the type that even when he is not with his children, ALWAYS talks about them. As if they were awards or cats, he would show everyone their pictures. + He would have a picture of you holding the twins as his phone background. He would become a chef, always thinking about what to cook he might buy for his children.

+ I believe he is the type of person who would want them to match their outfit…and with him too. He would love to tell them stories, especially creating new ones, either to put them to sleep or to entertain them on the walks. They'd be so unique and entertaining that they'd catch your attention and you'd start listening to them as well.

Imagine your family on one of the summer weekends. The kids are six years old, and you're going for a short hike on a mountain. You're holding hands while he's backpacking your sleeping son and, with his other hand, holding his daughter's hand. He'd have a 32-toothed smile on his face and a proud look on his face as he narrated another of his stories. As fate would have it, the story had ended by the time you arrived in the designated meadow, and the children had gone asleep as well. You lay down on a huge sheet that has been spread out. S.coups brought out the sack lunch you had brought, and you and he proceeded to eat as the twins slept peacefully.

You are lying down addled with your head on his legs, remembering about days spent together, as he gently brushes your hair. You two begin talking about how you dreamt about those experiences as teenagers and how wonderful it was that it all came true in the end. Your quiet conversation awakened the two kids who were hungry and eager to eat the delicious lunch you had prepared.

Your lunch was over in a burst of laughter and more stories, and your children instantly went around the large field to play. Before you could move, you noticed S.coups getting up and following them.

It was just you and your family in that idyllic place, and everything in that moment only brought joy to your heart. Running in the meadows, bouncing in the grass, gasping breaths, loud laughing, sunshine lighting up faces and legs that wouldn't stop moving - everything in that moment only brought joy to your heart.

Taking a picture or a video would never be enough to capture that moment, so you closed your eyes for a second to imprint that memory as deeply as possible in your mind.

As if your eyes were a camera, and you heard your husband's voice shouting as they closed--as if before a shot.

"THE FIRST ONE WHO REACHES MOM WIN," and the most gorgeous vision was before you as soon as you opened your eyes again.

The three people you cared about the most in the world, with whom you were able to share every aspect of yourself and who you could always rely on, were running toward you. Arms outstretched, enormous smiles, quick running, and upbeat attitudes: that was an incredible summer day.

JOSHUA [조슈아]

The beautiful dad that everyone admires. He is kind, loving, intelligent, handsome, helpful, funny… And of course, he only has eyes for you and your children. I imagine a family with three or four children of different ages. He would like to have large families and be surrounded by people he cares about. I believe he would remember every detail about all of his children, no matter how small. Let's be honest: he loves taking care of his children(MALEWIFE VIBES.) He would love to go to the grocery and bring home a few extra surprises for the kids. + He is the type of parent who would come back with pounds of something you said you liked months ago. He would also take you on trips when the children are old enough. And he makes every effort to include y'all in his business trips. As much as he doesn't always show it, I believe he misses you continuously while you're not with him. HE WOULD SING FOR YOUR CHILDREN. Those wonderful lullabies that would sound heavenly and perfect to lull them to sleep through his voice.

It's late at night, and your town is being battered by a violent thunderstorm. Sleep is restless and light due to the roaring rain, lightning, thunder, and noisily moving leaves.

Some people are not influenced by the weather outside; on the contrary, they are lulled by it, but others, such as your children, are frightened by it. It was soft weeping, not outside noises, that woke you up.

Your 5-year-old kid approached your bed with tears in his eyes, wanting to go with you and your husband to your bed.

It didn't take long for the child to snuggle between you and Joshua after waking you up, falling asleep peacefully after a few minutes.

After the initial worry, the image of your lover and son sleeping close together was projected in front of your eyes, and you quickly fell back into Morpheus' embrace.

It wasn't more than five minutes later that you heard your 6-year-old middle daughter moving the sheets on your bed. She, too, had been woken up by the thunderstorm and was unable to sleep due to her fear of the noises that had grown louder in the meantime.

You invited her to sleep in your bed without thinking about it.

The bed was suddenly filled with warmth and breaths that had slept together that night. Even with the arrival of your daughter, Joshua had not awoken.

But it was when he heard the word "dad" that he sat up in bed and opened his eyes wide.

He saw his seven-year-old son by his bed and, shifting his sight to the bed, he noticed the rest of his family sound asleep. He couldn't explain what had happened, but it felt like a warm squeeze to his heart, which was full of love.

He smiled and turned to face his kid, asking what he was doing there.

"The storm woke me up, and in the room, I no longer saw my brothers," he murmured, alluding to the two who were now peacefully sleeping next to you.

Thunder interrupted the silence before your husband could say anything. Your son approached his father as he shook himself awake.

That thunder had woken you all up, and the younger brother's sudden crying had woken his sister up as well.

You sat up in your chair and looked at the time; it was 4:54 a.m. As you held the children in your arms, their cries appeared to grow louder, and your soft words sought to drown out their sorrow.

Any noise was broken by a more musical sound.

To put his children to sleep, Joshua began humming their favorite song. His voice was still slightly raspy from just waking up, but it just added to his allure.

And you were not the only one who thought so.

The children, enchanted, began to be calmed to sleep by that melody.

Joshua had gotten up to make a place for the older brother, who had also lying out in bed.

You hinted about getting up and leaving so your husband could stay in bed. But, with a simple smile and a wave of his hand, he assured you that you could stay and that he would sleep on the couch next to the bed for the rest of the night.

His hair was messy, his voice was harsh but clear, and his eyes were half-closed. In your opinion, Joshua had never looked more beautiful.

And everyone in that house had gone asleep thanks to his voice; minds wandered through dreams, and his image imprinted in your mind followed you to the dream realm as well.

Thank you for reading!! comments, likes, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. I hope y'all will like it <3

against the world

PAIRING ▸ park sunghoon x fem!reader x sim jaeyun (ft. park jongseong)

GENRES ▸ fluff, angst, psychological, horror, thriller

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, murder, descriptions of gore, unrequited love, found family, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, mc is an unreliable narrator

SUMMARY ▸ if you could change anything about your life, it would be meeting park sunghoon.

WORD COUNT ▸ 14,064 words

PLAYLIST ▸ back to black by amy winehouse • the french library by franz gordon • perfectly splendid by the newton brothers

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! this fic is a rewrite of one of my first horror fics that i’ve written :') it badly needed reworking and i completely changed the ending. i hope you guys enjoy my spooky szn contribution ♡

THE TRUTH WAS, YOUR LIFE BEGAN TO FALL APART EVEN BEFORE YOU MET SIM JAEYUN. 

You realized this as you woke up, face pressed against the ice-cold, concrete floor of a holding cell; when the guards dragged your uncooperative, limp body into an interrogation room; when you were face-to-face with Detective Lee Heeseung and handcuffed to a cold, metal table as he read your Miranda Rights. The handcuffs dug into the flesh of your wrists, but you only fought against them once and gave up as soon as you realized they wouldn’t give in. You just wanted to thumb away the crusted blood staining your hands and pick out the flakes under your nails.

The room was foreign to you. It was something you’d seen in movies and read in books, but you never fathomed the idea of being in an interrogation room yourself. There was a two-way glass that you aimlessly stared at, wondering who was listening in on the other end. 

You couldn’t figure out just how you ended up in this situation. Everything was smooth in your memory up until your supposed arrest—a tear in the fabric of your recollection. You hardly remembered what happened on the way to the police station or when you were getting booked in. You dug your palms into your temples and then pressed against the soft flesh under your eyes, frustrated by the stunted gears in your head. As much as you begged than to click and start spinning, they remained stuck and rusted in place. 

But you couldn’t ask the brooding man standing over you. You couldn’t look up into his cold, unforgiving eyes. After all, he knew you were a murderer. 

“There’s no use in lying to me, Y/N,” Detective Lee said gruffly with a gaze like steel, “the prints match.”

You drummed your fingers against the table—a habit that was rooted in your anxiety. Your fingers were stained and pruned like roses, and as hard as you tried to paint the table red, it only flaked off. You were sure your heartbeat was faster than the tapping of your fingers, your mind perhaps speeding off twice as fast.

Your stomach twisted. If Jaeyun was going to prison, too, then you could no longer protect him.

There was a limit to how much he could take; you knew that being thrown in the slammer would be intolerable for him. You knew you needed to get to him immediately because Jaeyun was the guy who felt too little and too much at the same time—the guy who looked for the part of him that ran away, who self-destructed when he felt the world closing in on him.

After all, Jaeyun was a stick of trinitrotoluene lit at both ends. 

You worked up the courage to look Detective Lee in the eye, which made him stiffen up, biceps flexing under his white button-up. 

“Where’s Jaeyun?” you asked. 

Detective Lee’s lips pressed into a thin, grim line. Cutting into his pale cheeks. You decided that couldn’t be a good reaction. 

You continued, “He didn’t do anything, I swear. He was just there. He didn’t do anything.”

“If you cooperate with us, then you can see Jaeyun again,” the detective answered in a clipped tone. “I can sit here all day and wait.”

Cooperate. You hated that word.

You knew Detective Lee was just trying to sugarcoat your betrayal. You knew he was looking down on you, ready to push you to your limit. 

But there was nothing you could do in this room. There was no way for you to escape or talk your way out of it to see Jaeyun. You knew quite well that staying silent would only prevent you from making sure your boyfriend was okay. 

You had no other choice but to work with Detective Lee. 

“Will you at least make sure he’s not hurt?” you inquired, to which Detective Lee agreed with a nod.

“I’ll ask again: Will you cooperate?”

You stayed silent. You despised your old habit of shutting down like this, but you couldn’t help it.

Detective Lee sighed and sat in the chair across from you so that you both were eye-level with each other. “Listen, Y/N, you’re young. This murder investigation—this is serious stuff, okay? We just need to know the full story before we jump to any conclusions and make a false arrest. Can we start from last night?”

Deep down, you understood. But it’s all too fresh—too soon. The grief had yet to settle. The recollections of blood and lifeless eyes poisoned your head; it was all you could see when you closed your eyes.

You sounded hollow when you said, “It didn’t… start from last night.”

Detective Lee acknowledged this and leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. “Then let’s hear it from the beginning.”

If you could change anything about your life, it would be meeting Park Sunghoon.

Your first meeting was at the age of fourteen. Moving schools was an unexpected shift in your life, and you didn't expect to find many friends at your new school. Starting new in the beginning of the year was one thing, but entering unknown territory with people already acclimated in their respective groups was another. 

People flocked to comfort, and you were sure that no one would want to step out of their comfort zone to bring a stranger into their friend group.

And then Sunghoon swooped in, like an angel sent from the heavens.

Initially, he was awkward. You were both fourteen-years-old and going through the initial stages of puberty—all voice cracks and awkward intervals of growth stunts. Sunghoon was soft-spoken and didn’t have many friends when he approached and befriended you. 

It started when you both found out you shared a love for novels. You spent hours talking about your favorite books, and Sunghoon shared his dream of wanting to craft the perfect story. Oftentimes, Sunghoon would share some of his writing with you, and then his eyes would sparkle upon hearing your feedback. 

You two were classmates, sitting right next to each other in the back of the classroom, conveniently right next to the door. You got to know Sunghoon slowly—the same gradual feeling of starting to care for someone. You knew his boundaries, though, because you were aware that you could never be the closest to Sunghoon. He and Park Jongseong were attached at the hip, and you couldn’t lie to yourself; you felt like a third wheel in the beginning.

But there was some comfort in the security of your friendship.

“It’s you and me,” Sunghoon would tell you, “the two of us against the world.”

You knew you should have been grateful to have made friends in the first place, but you didn’t exactly know if you belonged with them. As comfortable as you felt, there was always a whisper in the back of your head, telling you that you would never be their number one.

You would never be anyone’s number one.

“I don’t understand girls,” Jongseong said one day, hands tucked behind his head as the three of you were hanging out in Sunghoon’s room. You were flipping through some comic book that Sunghoon had laying around, and you shifted uncomfortably upon hearing the question. 

“You don’t have to.” Sunghoon’s eyes flitted from you, and then back to his phone. He swiped through some apps, but you could tell he wasn’t really paying attention judging by the glazed-over look in his eyes. “Girls make no sense at this age.”

Jongseong nudged you. “You have anything to say about that, Y/N?”

To be honest, you didn’t understand yourself much either. You were just starting to go through puberty, and it wasn’t ideal for a teenager as young as you to only have guy friends. You couldn’t relate to any of the girls your age, nor could you ask them if they were going through the same changes you were. 

You were acquainted with several girls, of course, but you never got close enough to ask what feelings and experiences they had. You wanted to know if they were becoming as conscious of themselves and others like you were, but you kept those questions bottled up since you only had Sunghoon and Jongseong.

“Nope,” you replied. “I couldn’t tell you.”

You supposed Jongseong was having girl problems again, and it all clicked because lately, he had been hanging around a pretty girl in their class. They were cute together and clearly into each other, but you could pick up on the issue: Jongseong was on the down-low about their relationship. More importantly, he had been on the down-low about it around Sunghoon, which had to have been breaking some sort of best friend code.

Jongseong asked, “You like anyone, Hoon?”

Hoon, your brain echoed, and you imagined yourself using the name as casually as Jongseong did. It sounded awkward coming from you, though. Friends gave each other nicknames, right? What if you gave Sunghoon a nickname? How would he react?

Sunghoon flushed behind his phone screen. You could tell he wanted it to go undetected, but you caught a glimpse of his flustered expression before he was able to compose himself.

“Oh, not really,” he replied with an air of indifference. “I dunno. I guess I haven’t really been looking.”

“How about you, Y/N?”

You faltered for a moment before you realized you had been addressed. It was a normal question; you should have expected it, but it hit you like a tornado and your mind was swirling. Dating had crossed your mind a few times, sure, you had never prepared an answer because you thought it was going to be straightforward—a simple “yeah, there’s a few cute guys in class.” But that wasn’t the case this time, and you were wondering why there wasn’t any clarity in your head.

Come on, Y/N, you urged yourself, as if you were complaining to multiple, uncooperating attendants working in your brain. Just say something—anything. 

Your mind was blanking, though, and you were scared. You couldn’t quite grasp why your stomach felt like a never-ending pit, but it only worsened when you couldn’t spit some guy’s name out. You wanted to open up your skull, thoroughly examine your head, poke at the areas refusing to work, and figure out who you couldn’t just list some attractive guy in class; on top of that, you wondered why you couldn’t just flat-out refuse the statement and claim that there was no one you were interested in.

You were struck with a painful realization that there was only one person you could think of.

Sunghoon.

No, no, no, your brain and your heart screamed at each other. Get ahold of yourself.

You quickly decided that it was just a passing feeling that you needed to suppress until it went away. It was just stupid teenage hormones and puberty making you feel this way and starving you of affection that you didn’t actually need in the first place. If you didn’t get a hold over yourself, you were going to crumble and ruin the good things you had going.

You internally convinced yourself that everything was fine. There were plenty of teenagers your age who had moments of weakness like this with their guy friends. You just needed to branch out more, that was all. 

Sheepishly, you replied before the boys could chew you out, “There’s no one I’m interested in right now.” 

You weren’t a very good liar, but as long as Sunghoon and Jongseong were sold, you were content with how things were. 

Your group expanded when you turned fifteen, and you and Sunghoon grew closer—maybe even closer than Sunghoon and Jongseong were. 

You were laying down in your bed one night, breaking into sobs when you realized that you needed more than one hand to count the number of friends you had now. Your shell was broken and your world was bigger. You normally lived like your uphills were mountains and your downhills were cliffs, but, lately, the mountains were getting easier to climb and the downhills weren’t that big of a drop. You didn’t need to stop and catch your breath or worry about hurting yourself on the way down.

You never felt lonely anymore. If Sunghoon or Jongseong weren’t free, you would call Nishimura Riki to catch grasshoppers in the creek with you, or you’d go play video games with Yang Jungwon. Kim Sunoo called you nearly every night to bother you, but you didn’t mind. You liked them; they made you feel important, like you were wanted.

“Come on,” Sunghoon teased Jungwon one day as he was blushing over some girl. “What are you being so shy about?”

“It’s embarrassing!” Jungwon complained, and you giggled over how a flush of red started creeping from his ears to his cheeks. “I’m not a smooth-talker like you are, Hoon.” 

Sunghoon snorted. “I’m not a smooth-talker.”

“He’s practically, like, bulletproof,” Jongseong chimed in. “We can’t tease him about anyone. He just brushes it off.”

“I’m not bulletproof,” Sunghoon argued, but anyone could see the pride behind his expression. “I’m just not interested in anyone right now.”

You thought you had finally squashed the weird, gooey feeling that arose in your chest every now and then whenever Sunghoon came close. It was primarily due to the fact that Sunghoon was a respectful individual who didn’t try to weasel his way into your personal bubble as he pleased. That was probably for the best because you were sure your brain would go haywire if Sunghoon was too close for comfort.

And then there was Sim Jaeyun. 

Jaeyun entered your circle pretty easily. With his radiant personality and warm presence, it was no shocker that he was accepted by the group instantly. He possessed some odd charm that drew people to him, and you couldn’t seem to figure just how that worked. You were almost jealous of him, honestly, with how much of a social butterfly he was.

Out of all of them, Jaeyun seemed to take a particular interest in you. It drove you crazy, though, and you couldn’t figure out how to get the guy to stop teasing and messing around with you. The others couldn’t figure it out either; you just weren’t as bright and bubbly as Jaeyun was, so it was odd that he kept nagging the one person whose wavelength wasn’t on par with his. 

Sometimes it was cute—endearing even—but sometimes it was just flat-out irritating.

“Hey, Y/N.” Jake grinned, and his voice was all light and airy as he approached you. “What’re you doing for the summer break?”

“Probably sleeping in, hanging out with the others, and some more sleeping,” you replied, hardly sparing him a single glance. 

You were too focused on clearing out your locker of all the books and papers you had tossed in during the year. Gotta keep this, gotta throw this away, gotta return this one, you rattled off in your head, mentally preserving a reminder of your various items. But Jaeyun knew how to push your buttons and grab your attention. He never took your deflection without retaliating back. That was one of the many reasons why you found it so difficult to be around him.

“And hanging out with Sunghoon, huh? Have you realized it yet, or are you still pretending it’s not there?”

You closed your locker with a swift swipe of your hand, revealing Jaeyun’s smug expression. Your eyes were practically bugging out of your sockets as you stared him down. Somehow, you knew exactly what he was hinting at, but you refused to spell it out for him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned, but Jaeyun was already walking away from you. He was turned away, but you could visualize that stupid smirk of his like it was carved into your memory.

Jaeyun was smart. Too smart.

Your summer was filled with laughter, beach trips, and shy glances at Sunghoon. He drove you around places and you sat in the passenger’s seat next to him, toes curled in your shoes because you were so overjoyed. The car was always loud with music and laughter, and whenever it was silent, it was because everyone else was sleeping on each other after a long day of being outside.

You still masqueraded around, playing the role of Sunghoon’s best friend who definitely had zero romantic feelings toward him. It was quite hard when you had to pretend like your heart didn’t flutter whenever Sunghoon’s fingers brushed against yours.

“Sunghoon,” Jaeyun would complain, rousing laughter from everyone at how impatient he was, “are we there yet?”

“You’re so annoying,” Sunghoon retorted, clearly as a joke. You couldn’t help but laugh at his outburst, but it quickly died on your lips once you caught a glimpse of Jaeyun winking at you in the side mirror.

Jaeyun had a mischievous glint in his eyes when he said, “But you still love me, Hoon.”

Oh. 

He was trying to make you jealous. 

You fought down the urge to laugh at him. You might have been harboring a small crush, but you were never the jealous type, especially not over petty things like this. There was one little thing, however, that you couldn’t seem to shake.

For some reason, the anticipation to call Sunghoon by a nickname made you anxious. You never tested it on your tongue; it just floated around in your head. However, when you addressed him as Hoon one day, your heart skipped a beat when Sunghoon responded with a smile that rivaled the brightness of the sun.

You grew closer to Jongseong, too. You didn’t feel like the third wheel with him and Sunghoon anymore; you felt like you were all at the same level of closeness. You and Jongseong hung out sometimes without Sunghoon, and despite a few awkward pauses in your interactions, you two warmed up quickly and you learned how to joke around with him easily. 

Jongseong wasn’t all stiff and dry like you were initially afraid of; rather, he was surprisingly fun, and every time you learned something new about him, like how he adored cats but was allergic to them, you were even more amazed. 

It wasn’t just Jongseong, though. You and Sunghoon grew far closer than ever before, whether that was for the better or worse. 

Sunghoon only lived a street away, so it was convenient to hang out, and when you didn’t hang out with him, you two called each other. You could see him unravel in front of your eyes; he became visibly more comfortable when it was just the two of you—smiling, laughing, and bursting into laughter with tears of unrestrained happiness. 

It wasn’t just the jubilant memories that tugged you two closer, though. It was also the despair.

In the first place, it was an accident that you even happened to break down in front of Sunghoon.

You two were in his room when it happened, and things were as they always had been before you sensed the calm before the storm. You joked around as usual and passed the time by playing video games. Sunghoon was perched on his usual spot in the corner of the bed. You looked over at him and realized how close you two had become as friends.

Friends. Just friends.

It was right at that moment when you realized that this wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to just be Sunghoon’s best friend. You wanted to be the reason why he smiled, the one to make him blush, and the one he could share his pain and happiness with. 

But your feelings were the scariest thing you’ve ever had to face, and you felt ashamed for even wanting to cross the line drawn between you and Sunghoon.

You couldn’t dare bring yourself to confess. You were almost positive that Sunghoon didn’t feel the same way, and you would be risking a fall-out in your current relationship if you admitted anything. What if Sunghoon ended up hating you? What if you lost him and all of your other friends? What if you weren’t the closest person to him anymore?

That was why you felt like Sunghoon was in another dimension, always a layer away. Always.

This was your own fault. You were the one who fell for your best friend. You were the one who did this to yourself. You broke your own heart.

You couldn’t help it when you started falling apart in front of him. It started with a broken cough that was supposed to cover up a sniffle. You were thankful for the loud battle sounds in the game that drowned out your quiet sobbing. But the video game didn’t stop Sunghoon from noticing your shaking hands gripping the controller.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m okay.”

Your voice is so shaky, so broken. Sunghoon knew you were crying before he could see or hear it.

He paused the game and put the controller down, but your eyes were still trained on the screen, hands shaking as you clutched the controller until you were white-knuckled. Sunghoon was on edge—panicked. Although, it was a different kind of panic from all the times you would be stressing over an assignment and Sunghoon would offer some lame piece of advice in return.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” His tone was frantic now as he searched your face for an answer.

You smiled, although faint melancholy was tucked away in the curl of your lip. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Now, I know that’s not true.”

Your smile broke. It was so unfortunate that Park Sunghoon had to have a heart so big.

You could almost hear Jaeyun in the back of your head: Have you realized it yet, or are you still pretending it isn’t there? 

You started crying, and it wasn’t something soft with a gradual crescendo. It was loud and all at once, like a wounded animal. Your hands shook more, and you finally dropped your controller, burying your fingers into your roots, as if tugging your hair hard enough would make it all stop, as if it would hurt more than the ache in your chest.

Sunghoon was quick to get off his bed and slide to the ground, right next to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and it only made you feel ashamed. You stiffened up and shrunk back, hoping he wouldn’t notice how you tensed up at his touch. You could hear your own heartbeat, but you were pretty sure you were hyperventilating at a faster pace than the pounding in your chest. The world under you moved, bounced, so you decided to lean into Sunghoon.

The logical half of your brain informed you in a calm, clipped manner that you were having a panic attack. The other half meanwhile was screaming and shutting itself down. 

Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste, you tried telling yourself, but your senses overwhelmed you completely. Your tears were blurring your vision, you couldn’t hear anything but your sobs, and your lungs felt as if they were on fire. 

“Y/N, talk to me,” came the softest voice that eased the painful ringing in your ears. 

“I can’t,” you stuttered out. “Not right now.”

You wish you hadn’t let it get to this point. You were completely humiliating yourself in front of Sunghoon right now. This was the one thing you couldn’t let him find out about. 

Your heavy gasps grew more labored. You then curled into yourself, sweaty hands tugging and knotting at your hair. And, shit, you couldn’t breathe. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” you repeated again and again, like a broken record. The desperation in your voice was so ugly.

There was something fierce in Sunghoon’s eyes, like he was ready to protect you from anything or anyone that tried to hurt you, but there was also softness in his voice. “You know, you can tell me anything. Whatever it is, I’ll hear you out. I don’t want you to suffer alone, Y/N.”

With a small smile, he added, “It’s just you and me, right? The two of us against the world.”

That only made you cry even more. You just replayed Sunghoon’s words in your head, like it was your favorite song.

“Alright.” You breathed in real deep, through the aching chest and everything. “It’s really stupid.”

“If it makes you cry this hard, it can’t be stupid.”

You bit your lip, embarrassed. “I think I like someone—someone I can’t have.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond for a moment, and it rattled your brain. He probably was wondering this underwhelming confession warranted a breakdown from you, and you couldn’t blame him. However, it was the only way you could avoid lying to your best friend without giving him the whole truth. 

For a split second, you wondered if Sunghoon simply just didn’t hear you. But you didn’t want to repeat yourself; you didn’t like repeating yourself. 

To your surprise, Sunghoon just smiled. “Do I know them?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words were stringing together in your head to form a coherent sentence.

“Uh, well, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” Sunghoon continued. He flushed and flicked his thumb under his nose—an awkward mannerism of his that you grew to love over the years. “Actually, I think we’re in the same boat. There’s someone I like, too. Someone I can’t have.” 

His words bounced in your skull. Settled. Bounced again.

“Really?” you spluttered out, and it took you a moment to recuperate from the heavy sadness that was filling your chest. You brought yourself to ask, “I mean, you’re so popular, so why don’t you just ask them out?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not? Are they dating someone else?”

There was a sad smile on Sunghoon’s lips when he answered, “No, Jongseong likes her, too.”

At the age of sixteen, you realized that you couldn’t get over Sunghoon, but you could suppress your heartbreak and lingering feelings. 

It physically hurt to think about how deeply ingrained your concept of friendship was with him, and the possibility that Park Sunghoon would never think of you as more than a friend. You two had shared too many experiences—worn each other’s shoes and walked miles—to ever become more than what you were.

Nothing would ever change.

You were hanging out by a creek near Jongseong’s house. It was just the two of you—no Jaeyun to poke fun at you, and no Sunghoon to distract you. It was just the two of you, and it was somehow so easy to be with Jongseong like this. You could laugh with your stomach and smile with your eyes without feeling the need to close up or shut down. 

“It’s getting annoying, isn’t it?” Jongseong asked under his breath at one point. When you shot him a puzzled look, he clarified, “Sunghoon.”

You picked up on Jongseong’s annoyance toward Sunghoon over the past few weeks, but his words confirmed your suspicions now. You wondered if it was geared toward the girl they both liked—whoever she was. 

You never thought to ask, mainly because you didn’t want to know. Either way, if Sunghoon wanted to share, he would’ve done so already. 

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, trying to grab at words and shove them together, but you genuinely didn’t know what to say. 

It had always been you, Sunghoon, and Jongseong. You never thought about them turning on each other. The very idea made you feel sick to your stomach. 

Over the past week, you had seen Sunghoon’s indifference toward Jongseong, but you were too afraid to ask about it. Your friend group was slow to pick up on it, but you noticed the way Sunghoon would purposely avoid conversing with Jongseong, or the way Jongseong would walk quickly past him if they crossed paths. It was odd, though, because everyone knew that Sunghoon and Jongseong were the best of friends—inseparable. How could you hold onto someone for so long and just let go of them like that?

You recalled that Jongseong and Jungwon went over to talk to Sunghoon about his moody behavior, but Jongseong never told you whether the talk went well or not. You figured it just never happened because Jungwon called in sick the very next day. 

You prayed that he would hurry up and get over his cold. He had been out sick all week, which checked out since everyone was getting sick around this time of the year. Jungwon would know how to get Sunghoon and Jongseong to reconcile. He was always the friend that helped everyone patch things up. 

“You guys are best friends,” was all you could say. “You’ll make up in a few days, right?”

Jongseong clicked his tongue loud enough to make your skin crawl. 

But you didn’t want to drop it this time, you asked, “Seriously, what happened between you guys?” 

For a moment, you wondered if you should’ve brought up what Sunghoon confessed to you—about him and Jongseong liking the same girl. But this couldn’t have been about that; Sunghoon would never let a girl get between his friendships. 

“Sunghoon’s hiding something dark,” Jongseong blurted out. “I don’t think I can get him out of this one.”

“Something dark? What is it?”

“I don’t really know—”

“Jongseong,” you cut in. “If you know something, then just say it. He’s my best friend, too.”

Jongseong shifted uncomfortably, restless. He was silent for a long period of time, so you just waited for him to collect his thoughts. Uneasiness bursted from the tips of your fingers and crawled under your skin. You felt the heat of the sun against your face, so you looked up and covered your eyes with a hand, blinking back red. 

“If Sunghoon did something unforgivable,” he started in a murmur, “would you forgive him?”

“I don’t know,” was all you could say.

“Yeah,” Jongseong replied, his terse words nearly making you flinch. “I don’t know, either.”

The sun grew hotter against your face, and all you could see was blood red behind your eyes. 

You didn’t know how exactly it started, but you slowly started to find solace in Jaeyun.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to care for him a little more than the people around you. You were starting to get swayed by him—the things he said, the way he looked at you—and it scared you a little.

But Jaeyun felt safe. He felt like home.

You two called at night, sometimes. You weren’t normally one to be vulnerable in front of others, but you shed some tears in front of Jaeyun a couple of times.

The only other person you had cried in front of was Sunghoon.

“It’s kinda sad,” Jaeyun told you one day. You two were spending the afternoon studying together at his place, and you were feeling self-conscious because you were starting to regret not dressing a little cuter. “I’ve known you for a year, but we’ve only gotten close now.”

“I don’t think either of us cared about deepening our friendship back then.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You think I didn’t want to be closer? How do you think I picked up on you liking Sunghoon?”

“Because I was obvious about it?”

“No, idiot, because I like you.”

You blinked a few times until you fully processed his words. I like you, your brain repeated, and then you reprocessed the information. 

No, there was an ‘idiot’ before that. Not only were you liked, but he thought you were stupid, as well. 

You became painfully aware of your knees touching Jaeyun’s, but you still couldn’t wrap your head around the idea of him liking you romantically. You had never been in this position. Since your crush on Sunghoon had been one-sided for the past few years, you never expected to be on the receiving end. 

“You…” you trailed off, floundering to find something to say—something that wouldn’t make you sound stupid or mean. You settled with, “You, too?”

His eyes beamed with hope. “For a year now.”

Your world was so small before. It was just you, Sunghoon, and Jongseong. 

Before you could even wonder if there was space in your heart for Jaeyun, you realized that you had already let him burrow his way in there.

“Can I kiss you?” Jaeyun asked. 

You couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh, and every once of nervousness slipped away. You always thought you could attain this level of closeness with Sunghoon, but maybe your relationship with him was just that fragile—where you could just grab the string binding you two together and snip it completely. 

But it was different with Jaeyun. 

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling, “you can.”

And then, with Jaeyun’s breath fanning your lips, you felt Sunghoon completely dissolve from the impounding thoughts racking your brain. Right now, it was Jaeyun and only Jaeyun. 

You leaned in first, cupping his cheek and pressing your lips against Jaeyun’s soft ones. It was weird, kissing for the first time, but he leaned into it instantly so that your movements were less awkward and more guided. 

A fire blazed inside of you, burning hotter than imaginable. You didn’t expect Jaeyun to drive you this crazy—to crave more, to want more. You drew back before you slid your hand into his hair, although you were tempted to go further when his pillowy lips peppered soft kisses along your jawline. 

But you didn’t want to go overboard or ruin anything by going too fast. You settled for leaving another chaste kiss against his lips before pulling back, and you were delighted when you saw how pleased Jaeyun was. He was practically glowing. 

From then on, you and Jaeyun had a relationship that extended past something platonic, but it wasn’t like you two were official. Naturally, you ended up confiding in him over everything. 

While Sunghoon still held a place in your heart as your first love, you grew to care for Jaeyun, who kindled a gentler fire in you. Sunghoon, on the other hand, left you burned and scarred. 

You didn’t want to rush into a relationship, mainly because you didn’t want Jaeyun to think he was a rebound, and he respected that. So he waited for you to figure out your feelings and let your heart choose who was right for you. 

You weren’t stupid, though; you knew that chasing after Sunghoon was a hopeless cause.

You and Jaeyun drifted about in a limbo-state of your relationship. You two went on a couple of dates, got to know each other at a deeper level, and spent a lot of time together. He became the person you thought about when you were falling asleep and when you woke up in the morning. 

You two got along surprisingly well, and you wondered why you ever had doubts about him in the beginning. Sure, Jaeyun still got on your nerves at times, but you just found it funny after the wave of annoyance passed. 

Your friends started to talk about how close you two were and frequently brought up the idea of you two dating. Of course, you always denied it, enjoying the privacy you and Jaeyun had. 

But as your relationship blossomed into something more serious, you decided that you didn’t want things to stay casual any longer. So, you asked him out, and Jaeyun, being the lovesick puppy he was, accepted without a second thought. 

You thought about how much had changed in your life. Sunghoon stopped hanging out with you completely, resorting to being alone most of the time. Everyone was concerned about his behavior, but after several attempts of failed confrontation, they all collectively gave up. You and Jongseong still kept an eye on him, using roundabout ways to find out how he was doing; it was the most you two could do given how little opportunity you had to talk to him. 

You didn’t share many classes with Jongseong anymore, but you two were still close, even after your “two of us against the world” friendship with Sunghoon had gone to shit. 

Jongseong was kind, though, and despite how he was rough around the edges, he was gentle enough. 

But he knew that Sunghoon was hiding something dark, and that alone made you somewhat nervous around him. 

You felt unsettled the entire day, but when your group chat started flooding with texts about Jungwon in the middle of the night, you felt an icy chill travel down your spine. 

It was all over the news. The whole story about him being down with the flu was just a cover-up while authorities were looking for him.

You felt nauseous. 

HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT FOUND DEAD NEAR WOODS. FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED.

The 16-year-old boy was found dead at the scene. The parents of the deceased student have identified him as Yang Jungwon. As of now, there are no leads, but authorities have ruled the case as a homicide. 

Police have asked anyone with information to contact their local police department.

You read the headline again. Over and over again until your vision was blurry and the words were convoluted. Your fingers were raw and bitten down to the nail bed by the time you were able to put your phone down so that you could just cry into your hands. 

By the time you got around to reading the details, grimacing at the descriptions of mutilation done to Jungwon’s body and how his body had been decomposing for weeks now, you had to run to your toilet and dry heave everything out. 

You weren’t the closest to Jungwon or anything, but imagining such a bright person meet such a horrific end wasn’t easy to process. For hours, you ignored all of the calls and texts and attempts to comfort from your parents. You stared straight at your wall—so terrified that your chest hurt and your breathing was ragged. 

Later that night, when the world was quiet and dreaming, you received a text from Sunghoon. 

sunghoon: Hey sunghoon: I’ve been thinking about you. Are you doing okay? sunghoon: I haven’t been a good friend lately, I’m sorry sunghoon: It’s still the two of us against the world

There was a time when those words made you feel like you were on top of the world, soaring high over the clouds. 

Now, though, all you could feel was a horrible sensation of dread.

It had been months since Sunghoon and Jongseong’s falling out. 

You were seventeen now, but you felt hollower as you aged. Sunghoon showed up to school and lingered within your group silently, only contributing when spoken to directly. He didn’t approach you anymore or ask to hang out after school. Actually, no one knew what he did after school. He would head straight home and then go completely off the radar. 

Gone off the rails, as Sunoo called it. 

You cried several nights over it. You felt like not only was your best friend slipping away from you, but Sunghoon’s disconnect from the group would soon make you pull away, too. You had Jaeyun, of course, but nothing felt the same anymore. With Jungwon dead, the group felt tense and gloomy. You all started hanging out with other people and slowly stopped responding in the group chat. 

Part of you realized that Sunghoon’s detachment was because you didn’t reply to him the night Jungwon’s murder was publicized. Back then, you suspected that Sunghoon could have been behind it, judging by your conversation with Jongseong earlier. It all added up in your head, but the only thing that was stopping you from believing it fully was that you couldn’t fathom Sunghoon ever doing something so evil. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with him,” you whispered into the phone, even though there wasn’t anyone around that you were worried about listening in. “He’s shutting me out now. Something must’ve happened to him.” 

You heard Jaeyun hum and contemplate for a moment before he replied, “Maybe he just needs space.” 

“I think something happened between him and Jongseong,” you admitted, “but I can’t imagine Jongseong saying anything that would make Sunghoon ignore him for this long.”

“It must’ve been serious, then.” 

“But… but it’s Sunghoon; he’s”—you paused as you recalled what Jongseong once called him—“bulletproof.”

There was a pause.

“I guess that’s the problem with being bulletproof,” Jaeyun spoke gravely. “People think they can just keep shooting.”

What Jaeyun told you that night kept replaying in your head over the next week—over and over again. It hit you a little too hard, and you waited to confront Sunghoon about it. You wanted him to know that he could be vulnerable, too. But you couldn’t even speak to your best friend these days. He had been avoiding everyone like the plague.

You assumed it had something to do with Jongseong, but when you talked to him about it, he was hesitant to get into it.

“You’re the closest person to him,” you told him. Today was colder, and you rubbed your hands together for warmth as you and Jongseong stood by the gates after school. “I think if you guys sit down and talk things out, then he’ll start being himself again.”

“I was the closest person to him,” Jongseong corrected with a scoff. “Plus, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing to talk about? What about your friendship?”

You couldn’t stop the words from leaving your mouth. Anger roiled deep in your chest, and you were too furious to realize that Jongseong only looked dejected in response. If he wasn’t going to explain what happened, then you couldn’t understand what was eating away at their relationship. 

“There is no friendship, Y/N,” he said slowly, in a voice so low that it sounded like the calm before the storm. His words made everything come to a halt, and you felt like time itself had frozen. “I suggest you let go of Sunghoon, too. You’re hanging onto someone who’s beyond help.”

“But I don’t know what you know!” you exclaimed. “I can’t let go of someone just like that, Jongseong. I need answers.”

He was quiet before he asked, “Do you remember when Sunghoon stayed over at your house once when we were fourteen?”

“When his house caught on fire?” you recalled, but the memory was sort of hazy for you. All you remembered was how you were in complete awe that Sunghoon was unscathed and unbothered by the incident. 

“Yeah,” Jongseong’s voice was grim as he said, “and I bet he never told you that he was the one who started that fire on purpose.”

It was like a punch to the gut. You could only shake your head blankly, lips parted in disbelief. 

He continued, “When we were fifteen, he thought it would be fun to plan out a murder without getting caught—”

No.

“—and, at sixteen, he actually did it.”

No. No. 

“Jongseong,” you whispered, your voice smaller than you intended, “was it…” 

“Jungwon?” He said the name so carefully, as if the world would explode into nothingness if he did. You had been gnawing at your lip so hard that you drew blood, yet that couldn’t distract you from the haunted look in Jongseong’s eyes. “Yeah, he killed Jungwon.”

You felt like you had just been doused with ice-cold water. 

“I shouldn’t have brought Jungwon with me. I knew Sunghoon was gonna do it to someone, but I didn’t know…” He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath that racked his entire body. “I didn’t think it would be him. I brought Jungwon to talk him out of whatever was going on, not to…” Jongseong stopped himself again, covering his face with his hands to wipe away the tears that had started to fall. 

It’s you and me, Sunghoon’s voice chimed in your head. The two of us against the world.

You thought your world had been shattered, but then you realized that it had actually been broken for a long time.

That night, you asked Jaeyun to come over, and he arrived at your door in record speed.

You two were sitting on your bed, controllers in hand, but the screen was off and neither of you were even in the mood to play. You must have trusted him more than anyone by now because the words started spilling with no preamble. You ended up explaining most of your conversation with Jongseong after you had Jaeyun swear on his life that he wouldn’t tell a soul.

Of course, you didn’t expect any normal person to compliantly come to terms with the fact that their friend murdered their other friend, but Jaeyun was a bit different when it came to you. Instead of accusing you of lying or denying the truth, he believed you wholeheartedly. You couldn’t tell if he was patient with you, or if he was just horrified by everything you had told him. 

It had been an entire year since Jungwon had been found dead and the case closed as an unsolved murder, but your words sucker punched Jaeyun like it had just happened yesterday. 

Jaeyun’s tone was urgent when he said, “We have to tell someone.” When he noticed your hesitation, he shook his head at you with a disapproving frown. “Y/N, this is serious. This is Jungwon, my best friend.” 

Your mouth went dry. “I-I know, it’s just—”

Jaeyun didn’t have to cut you off. You froze right when you saw tears welling up in his eyes.

“Y/N.” He said your name gently, but you still flinched. You had never heard your name being called with so much despair. “If Sunghoon really murdered Jungwon, then I can’t keep this a secret.”

“Give me a few days,” you pleaded. “I just want to hear Sunghoon out. No matter what he says, I’ll come with you to testify.” 

He shook his head immediately, eyes fierce. “You are not going anywhere near Sunghoon—not after what he did to Jungwon.”

“Then let me ask Jong—”

“Y/N,” Jaeyun interrupted, letting his hand slide over yours. His eyes were full of concern when he asked, “How do you know you can trust Jongseong?” 

Your hands started to shake.

“Y/N,” he said again, “if Jongseong took Jungwon to see Sunghoon, what do you think he did after Sunghoon killed him?”

Your pulse raced.

“If Jongseong knew about Sunghoon’s behavior for this long, why hasn’t he ever done anything?” 

All this time, you thought your world had grown a little bigger ever since you met Sunghoon and Jongseong. 

But you were living in a fantasy by yourself. 

Not so long after your talk with Jaeyun, your phone rang. You were in the middle of finishing up your history paper when you saw the caller ID flash across your screen.

It was Sunghoon.

You didn’t even give yourself time to think about it first. You just picked up the phone immediately. It was an old habit; you saw Sunghoon and accepted the call without a second thought. You never expected Sunghoon to ever call you again, so you didn’t exactly have any practice in rejecting his calls.

“Y/N?” came the familiar voice of Park Sunghoon—gentle, but almost like he was a caged animal.

“Sunghoon?” You swallowed hard. “Uh, how are you? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, but you weren’t sure what he was apologizing for. “It was supposed to be the two of us against the world.”

You frowned. “Sunghoon, what’s going on?”

Instead of answering your question, Sunghoon hesitated before saying, “We should catch up sometime. You can read part of the story I’m writing.”

You paused, and before he could ask if you were still there, you replied, “Yeah, sure.”

“Right.” Sunghoon sounded like he had more to say. You almost didn’t catch it because he was so quiet, and the last thing you heard before he hung up was a quiet, “Bye, then.”

Your deepest regret was answering your phone later that night.

It was hours after Sunghoon called you. Jongseong was more of a texter, so you were surprised when his caller ID flashed across your screen. It was definitely not a reasonable hour for a high school student to be out and about, but nothing could have prepared you for what you heard on the other side of the line.

Jongseong was sobbing. 

The sound chilled you to the bone. You never heard Jongseong cry, but this didn’t feel normal; this cry was frantic and mangled, like he was spiraling out of control. 

“Y/N, you have to come over quickly,” Jongseong begged through broken sobs and heavy breaths. “Please, Y/N, I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.”

“Jongseong, calm down. Tell me what’s happening.”

“You have my location, right? Just hurry. Please.” And he hung up. 

In a daze, you called Jaeyun and asked him to pick you up. 

“I really think we should just call the cops,” Jaeyun offered, almost pleading. “I don’t know what’s going on with Jongseong, but this sounds sketchy, Y/N.”

Pitted fear festered in your throat. You knew something was off, but you weren’t sure if you could handle losing Jongseong, too. You had gotten so used to not being alone that you were paranoid of returning to having no one. 

“Call them as soon as we get there,” you said. “I just need to make sure Jongseong’s okay.” 

Jaeyun pressed his lips into a thin, grim line, but he kept driving. 

It was a port that Jongseong’s location directed you to, and discomfort crept into your limbs as soon as Jaeyun pulled into the area. Maybe you should’ve stayed back where it was safer and let the police handle everything, but you must have been a fool. It was just that Jongseong’s cries echoed in your head whenever you started having second thoughts.

You could hear him before you saw him.

Jongseong’s soft sobs could be heard from behind a metal storage unit, and you and Jaeyun inched closer carefully after getting out of the car. Your heart dropped to your stomach; you were dreading the worst, and when you turned the corner into the closed area Jongseong was in, you realized that the sight before you was the worst it could get. 

Sunghoon’s body.

You waited for his chest to rise, but not even a shallow breath escaped his blue-tinged lips.

It took you a moment to reorient yourself and realize that Sunghoon wasn’t just passed out, he was dead. 

You saw the blood pooling around him and the wounds piercing his torso, staining his white shirt, but you wanted to believe your mind was playing tricks on you. You convinced yourself that Sunghoon was going to get up any second now and start laughing, and then Jongseong would join in and tell you it was all a joke. 

But that wasn’t the case.

It wasn’t fear that overtook you—not an overwhelm of emotion—it was numbness. You stared at Sunghoon’s body as he bled out onto the concrete, blood pooling into the cracks in the ground. You felt an odd sort of disconnect. 

You tilted your head to see Sunghoon’s face turned to the side against the concrete. His blank eyes just stared into nothingness, and you realized that you would never get to see Sunghoon’s warm, sincere gaze ever again. You were never going to see his bright smile. You were never going to hear his contagious laugh. You were never going to read the wonderful stories he wrote. 

You supposed your life was always meant to be a tragedy. 

“H-Hoon?” Jaeyun choked up behind you. He was staring down at Sunghoon’s lifeless body in horror before his expression was slowly replaced with anger. “Jongseong, what the hell did you do?!”

“It was self-defense, man,” Jongseong whimpered out before his body was racked with sobs again. “He pulled a knife on me out of nowhere. I tried to stop him, but he was trying to kill me. I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t—” He exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do anything else.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at Sunghoon.

“Come on, guys,” Jongseong pleaded. “I can’t go to fucking prison. I’m eighteen now; it’s not juvie, it’s a life sentence.” You didn’t know what he was getting at until he requested the unthinkable, “Help me get rid of the body.”

You wanted to puke. You eyed the shiny metal soaked in blood that Jongseong was clutching. You were never going to see Sunghoon again. You were never going to hang out with him over the weekend. You were never going to hear his voice again. 

“Get rid of the body?” Jaeyun raised his voice, exasperated. “What the fuck are you gonna do when they realize he’s gone missing? You just killed someone! This is on you, Jongseong, not us!”

“Are you going to help me get rid of it or not?!” Jongseong tugged at his hair. “Just help me throw him off the dock, and we can all walk away from this.”

You watched helplessly, horror-stricken. “I… I can’t.”

“The body’s gonna float and show up somewhere,” Jaeyun countered with stony eyes. “They’re gonna catch you.”

Jongseong looked terrifyingly pale. You wondered if it was just the glow of the moon, or if he was also holding in his urge to puke. “I’ll just cut his stomach so he sinks.”

Disgusted, Jaeyun scowled. “You’re a monster.”

You watched as Jongseong tried hauling Sunghoon’s body before giving up and dragging him by the legs. You shot Jaeyun a warning look, mouthing for him to call the police before Jongseong noticed. He lingered back to do so while you followed Jongseong to plead him to stop. His arms gave out as soon as he stepped onto the planks, and he let Sunghoon’s lower half collapse onto the solid wood. 

“Y/N, help me cut open his stomach,” he ordered, hardly sparing you a glance. If he did, he would have seen how horrified you were.

“Oh,” you said, voice wavering, “that’s… that—that’s his…” 

“Y/N, help me.”

“Jongseong,” you begged, “please… please stop.”

He paid you no attention, though. You felt ghastly as Jongseong used a paring knife to make an incision on Sunghoon’s stomach. The smell was putrid. You screwed your eyes shut as the metallic smell of blood invaded your nostrils. Your nausea plunged into your gut, and you had to fight the pervasive urge to hurl.

A stream of Sunghoon’s blood made its way to your shoes, staining the soles. 

Jongseong was cutting your old best friend open. 

The dread had kept you numb for this long, but it was when reality settled in that you finally lost it. You couldn’t handle it anymore and pitched forward over the edge of the dock, throwing up until you were heaving up bile. You sobbed through it all, mournful and low, and your friend paid you no attention while he was cutting through flesh. 

When Jongseong was done, he wiped at his cheek, leaving behind a smear of blood. Sunghoon’s blood. You stared at him, and you had never been more terrified of him in your life. 

And then you really noticed Jongseong. You noticed how Sunghoon’s blood was coated all over his hands, how he hardly had any scratches or bruises on his body, how merciless his eyes were as he stared down at his old best friend. 

The realization that washed over you was frightening. 

“Sunghoon didn’t actually try to kill you, did he?” you managed to warble out. “You killed him yourself.”

A deep silence from him followed—heavy and wretched. Sunghoon’s blood was so dark that it nearly looked black under the dim light, and you could only stare helplessly until Jaeyun made his way to the dock, placing his hands firmly on your shoulders. 

Jongseong turned to you and Jaeyun, clutching his knife tightly. You could hardly recognize the boy in front of you. You never truly understood the term “paralyzed by fear” until you saw the crazed look in Jongseong’s eyes—cold and haunting. 

Jaeyun’s eyes glistened with tears and his throat was thick with emotion when he said, “Jongseong, please—just hang on and… and we can talk this out.” 

The hand gripping his knife started shaking. “You won’t tell anyone, right? You guys won’t snitch on me, right?” When there was no response from you or Jaeyun, Jongseong’s desperation grew stronger. He turned to you with his eyes big and terrified. “Y/N, come on, we’ve known each other for years. You know I—”

“Shut up!” Jaeyun yelled. His protective grip on you tightened. “Cut the bullshit, Jongseong. The police are gonna be here soon, and they’re gonna take you straight to prison once they see what you did to Hoon.”

It was like a switch flipped in him. A distant part of your mind wondered if you could get everyone out of this—somehow bring Sunghoon back and go back to your normal life—but you immediately shut down that fantasy as soon as Jongseong’s eyes darkened. 

In the darkness, you could make out an amused expression on his face. His smile took on a cold edge. 

“Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll just have to get rid of you two before the police get here, then.”

You felt like your world slowed. Your eyes burned with the threat of tears. You could tell Jongseong was walking closer to you while Jaeyun was desperately trying to tug you and get you to run, but you were frozen in place. You wanted to believe that your old friend wouldn’t actually hurt you, but then you didn’t know what to think when he raised his knife. 

It had all happened so fast. Too fast. 

In your brief struggle as Jongseong tried to stab you, you heard a sharp gasp that tore you from your haze, like you had just been drenched in cold water. Brutally sober. You tried to push Jongseong off of you, but he was too heavy, too limp. Jaeyun shouldered his way between you two and shoved Jongseong back, grimacing when his skull hit the wood with a thud. 

You heard one last, strangled gasp from Jongseong before he stopped breathing. The last star in his eyes twinkled until it dimmed for good. 

Jongseong laid flat on the dock with his knife piercing his chest.

As you heard police sirens go off in the distance, Jaeyun wrapped his arms around you before you finally broke down into his chest. 

Your best friends were dead and your world was broken beyond repair. 

“So, it was self-defense?” Detective Lee asked, his piercing eyes boring right into yours. “Purely accidental? You had no intention of harming Park Jongseong?”

You shook your head. “I still couldn’t process the fact that he killed Sunghoon, so I didn’t think he’d actually try to hurt me.”

You wanted to cry. You bit your chapped lip, but all you could taste was blood that you doubted was even there. You couldn’t even say Sunghoon’s name without seeing that radiant smile of his stained with deep red. 

You sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ve told you everything I know. Can I see Jaeyun now?”

Detective Lee eyed you for a moment. Finally, you saw some sort of sympathy in his gaze, although you felt sort of repulsed that you were being pitied in this state. The detective muttered something about him being back later, and he left the interrogation room, leaving you handcuffed to the table. 

A minute passed by. Another. Several more. 

You were pretty sure it had been at least an hour or two of staring at the wall, but the passage of time felt meaningless now. You could wait hours, even days, but you didn’t think you would ever be ready to confront what cruel reality awaited you. 

You were so tired of everything, so exhausted that you didn’t even think about your parents until now. Were they here? Were they informed about your arrest? They must have been worried sick all night. 

When the door opened, your head shot up. 

“You’re free to go, Y/N,” Detective Lee said, pulling out a key to uncuff you from the table. 

You were frozen. You just stared up at Detective Lee with your jaw hung open. 

“I know this took awhile, but there was no security footage at the scene to confirm your story,” he elaborated. “But your stories matched up, and we found more evidence in the trunk of Jongseong’s car that he had been planning this murder.” 

He helped you to your feet and escorted you out of the room. You were able to pick up everything they took from you before you were locked up in the holding cell—your keys, wallet, and your phone. Then, you were taken to the waiting room where your parents were seated at the far end. 

At the sight of you, they all but leapt from their seats to rush over, hands cupping your face and arms embracing your weak, battered figure. There was so much love in their eyes, and their fear over possibly losing their daughter replaced any anger they had toward the situation. However, you wouldn’t have been surprised if you ended up getting an earful the next day. 

“Mom, Dad,” you whimpered out, suddenly overcome with emotion. You were immediately aware of how weak and pathetic you felt. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” your father silenced you by rubbing your back in soothing circles. “Jaeyun’s family wanted us to let you know that he’s okay, too. They just took him home about ten minutes ago.”

You were slightly disappointed. Part of you was hoping that he would wait for you, but you figured Jaeyun’s family would have wanted to go home right away. You definitely would have felt better if you got to see your boyfriend in the flesh to make sure he was alive and well, but you weren’t going to complain now. 

There was still a ghost of a smile on your lips as your parents walked you to their car. They gushed and gushed about how glad they were about you being safe and sound, and about how they never would’ve expected Jongseong of all people to end up being a murderer.

You were happy to be alive, of course, but you felt so empty. 

You pulled out your phone to try and text Jaeyun, but, as you thought, it was dead. 

“Mom, can I use your phone?” you asked, and you dialed Jaeyun’s number immediately as soon as she handed it to you. You had it memorized because it was a combination of numbers that was fairly easy to remember. 

It rang four times, and by the fifth ring, you were scared that he wouldn’t pick up. But then, it beeped.

“Hello?” Jaeyun answered. “Who is this?”

It was like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders once you heard his voice. Despite Detective Lee informing you that Jaeyun was, indeed, alive, you felt more reassured hearing it from your boyfriend himself. You wanted to cry then and there, but you didn’t want to make your parents worry unnecessarily. 

You forgot you were even supposed to respond when Jaeyun spoke again, “Is anyone there?”

“Jaeyun, it’s me,” you mumbled softly. “Y/N.”

You heard him suck in a sharp breath. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

Jaeyun gave you the breakdown of how his experience went, which took a completely different turn than yours. After receiving medical attention, they brought him back to his holding cell to sleep for hardly a few hours. The detective interrogating Jaeyun tried to build trust with him, telling him they wanted to help and just needed his confession. They lied about already having evidence that he killed Jongseong, but Jaeyun denied it and told them the whole story. He was only free to leave after they cross-examined his story with yours. 

“Jesus,” you whispered into the phone, breathing out a small laugh. By now, you were already parked at your house and walking to your front door. “This is so fucked up.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “but we’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, Jae. Us against the world.”

Sim Jaeyun spent nine hours being questioned by authorities. 

He knew the nature of the crime that occurred was complex, and he was still reeling from the loss and betrayal that left a deep wound in his chest, but there was something that terrified him still. 

It wasn’t the murderous look in Park Jongseong’s eyes, or the blood completely drained from Park Sunghoon’s face. 

Rather, what scared Jaeyun the most was that he spent so long pining after you and getting to know you at a deeper level. He genuinely fell hard for you, even though you had monsters in the closet. He thought he knew almost everything about you, like how you were a terrible liar. 

Yet, you had just lied about everything that went down last night for nine hours straight. 

What scared Jaeyun the most was how clueless he had been about who you really were.

Truthfully, he was also in the wrong for going along with your lie. It was definitely going to bite him back one day. In the moment, though, he was far too much of a coward to go against you. Although he was able to get Jungwon the justice he deserved and allowed his family to finally be at peace with answers, Jaeyun still felt horrible. He just remembered the desperate look in your eyes as your face and hands were stained with blood, begging him to protect you. 

Jaeyun’s downfall must have been that he liked you too much to say no.

It was true that Jongseong called you in a panic, begging you to show up at the port as quickly as possible, and it was true that you wanted Jaeyun to drive you there instead of calling the cops first. 

Jaeyun knew deep down that you were making the wrong choice, but he had hope that you knew what you were doing. Truthfully, although he liked you a lot, he was still wary about how you felt toward Sunghoon. He just couldn’t understand how you were still unconsciously protecting him after hearing what happened to Jungwon. He knew that you wanted answers, but Jaeyun was worried about how you’d react once you got them. 

The real story—the one neither of you told the detectives—never started with Park Jongseong killing Park Sunghoon.

It really started when you and Jaeyun arrived at the port to see that no one was around. It was eerily quiet, and Jaeyun was starting to regret not turning around and heading straight for the police station. When you two got out of the car, you walked several feet down the line of shipping containers before returning to Jaeyun with a confused look on your face.

“I don’t see either of them,” you said, but then your eyes grew unfocused as you stared at something—or, rather, someone—behind Jaeyun. 

He turned around to see Jongseong walking over to the two of you in a calm fashion, as if he had no other care in the world. The port was relatively an open space, so he had no idea where Jongseong could have emerged from. Jaeyun rolled his neck, more frustrated than anything. 

“Jongseong!” you called out. 

When he neared you two, Jongseong shoved his hands into his pockets. “Oh, you brought your boyfriend.”

“What’s going on?” you urged. “Is it Sunghoon? Did something happen to him?”

“Wow, that hurts, Y/N.” Jongseong barked out a laugh, but nothing about his tone sounded sincere. “I call you in the middle of the night and all you can think about is Hoon? Wow. How do you feel about that, Jaeyun?”

Jaeyun didn’t respond. He just glowered. 

Nothing about this felt right. 

You stammered, “I-I just assumed—”

“Put yourself in my shoes,” Jongseong cut you off with little regard for your excuses. “Sorry to say this in front of your boyfriend, but imagine how I feel when the girl I’ve liked for years only cares about my best friend.” 

The air went still.

Your voice was barely a whisper when you asked, “Excuse me?” 

Jaeyun pursed his lips together, and, for a moment, he thought his tongue would start bleeding if he bit it any harder. Sunghoon liked the girl that Jongseong liked, and if that girl was you, then Jaeyun was worried that he already lost you. He knew for months that he would never truly have you the way he wanted. Your feelings for Sunghoon were stronger, and although Jaeyun was able to pack his insecurities into a tiny ball and shove it down his throat, it was all coming out now. 

His uneasy heart shattered into a million pieces once he caught a glimpse of your expression—hopeful and longing. And it wasn’t for Jongseong; it was for Sunghoon. 

“Now that’s a great expression,” came an overly-enthusiastic voice from Jaeyun’s right.

Park Sunghoon was leaning against one of the shipping containers, arms folded across his chest before he uncrossed them and made his way toward the three of you. He must have been hiding behind the containers this whole time because Jaeyun hadn’t seen him at all before. 

The situation was getting increasingly uncomfortable. Jaeyun wanted to shrink back when Sunghoon suddenly took great interest in him, keeping his eyes fixed on him instead of you or Jongseong. He used to have such bright and happy smiles, but, this time, Jaeyun almost thought his grin had been sliced into his face with a blade.

Sunghoon slung an arm over Jongseong’s shoulder. “Wow, Jae, now I really wanna see the look on your face when you’re in total despair,” he crooned, almost mocking. Jaeyun’s blood rushed in his ears when Sunghoon’s tongue swiped across one of his fangs. “You should’ve seen the look on Jungwon’s face.”

Jaeyun lunged before he could even think, but he stopped himself as soon as you held onto him, stopping him from hitting Sunghoon. 

And that was when he knew he already lost you. 

“Don’t,” you insisted.

“Are you serious?” he breathed out, brows knitting into a frown as he looked down at you. 

Shame clung to your throat, keeping your mouth shut, but Jaeyun was more concerned now about the sharp blade pointed at his throat.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Jongseong had a paring knife pointed straight at him, and Sunghoon’s smile never faltered. They were clearly on the same side. There was a reason why Jeongseong never did anything about Sunghoon after killing Jungwon. 

Jaeyun felt stupid for not putting it together earlier.

“I’d listen to your girlfriend,” Jongseong warned. His voice crawled all over him, freezing Jaeyun cold to the bone. “You might as well hear us out before you die here tonight.”

“Can’t exactly let you two run off now that you know what happened to Jungwon,” Sunghoon added.

“Jungwon was our friend,” Jaeyun hissed. “He was my best friend, you sick freak! What did you do to him? Why? He’s never… he never did anything wrong!”

“You’re right. He didn’t do anything wrong,” Sunghoon confirmed, surprisingly calm and collected. “In fact, he exceeded my expectations. It was a great performance, actually.” Jaeyun clenched his fist tight—so tight that his nails dug into his palms and drew blood—and Sunghoon took notice of this with a delighted hum. “You should’ve heard him scream, Jae. I had my doubts about him at first, but when he was begging me for his life, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

You were distraught. “Sunghoon, you—”

It all happened in seconds, like a rubber band finally snapping after being stretched too thin. Jaeyun used his elbow to knock Jongseong’s arm out of the way, and he shoved Sunghoon as soon as he found an opening, driving his hands into his ribs. He heard you cry out, but Jaeyun could only see red until he was dragged back up by Jongseong, the sharp blade of the knife being pressed to his throat. 

“Stop!” you cried. “Leave Jaeyun out of this! You wanted me, right? Just let him go. Please.” 

“I don’t think so.” Sunghoon wrapped an arm around you. “You two already know too much, and Jongseong and I have been waiting for this finale for years.”

Your eyes had a faraway look in them for a moment before you turned your attention back to Jongseong. “You told me…”

“I told you that when we were fifteen, Sunghoon thought it would be fun to plan out a murder without getting caught,” Jongseong filled in the blanks for you, a haunting smile playing on his lips, “and I was in on it.”

Sunghoon tutted. “But you got it all wrong, Y/N. It wasn’t Jungwon’s murder that we were planning; it was yours.”

You looked up at him in horror.

Jaeyun struggled against Jongseong for a moment, face taut with unbridled anger. He just wanted to get to you. Get Sunghoon’s filthy hands off of you. 

“I’m a writer. I write stories,” Sunghoon continued. “Isn’t it a great twist? Convincing my childhood best friend that I loved her all this time, only to reveal that she’s gonna die at my hands.” He scoffed. “Jungwon was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, but he was good practice. I was too careless back then. I shouldn’t have left all those drawings and papers out like that when he came over, but now I’m gonna finish the job properly.” 

Your breathing was shallow. Jaeyun could see the flood of despair racking your body with soft sobs and quick pants. Your gaze fell to the ground, and Sunghoon peered to catch a better look at you. 

“Good,” he praised. “That’s what I wanna see. Wow, that’s great, Y/N. I can’t wait to see more when—”

“Get the fuck away from her!” Jaeyun yelled, grunting when Jongseong pressed the knife harder against his supple skin. 

With an exaggerated flourish of his hands, Sunghoon raised both arms and backed up as if he was a deer caught in headlights. He wore an easygoing smile, yet something sinister was tucked behind the curve of his lips. Your inconsolable self stayed fixed in place, staring helplessly at your shoes.

“For the past two years, I’ve been isolating myself from the friend group for the sake of this story and its ending,” Sunghoon said. “I think I deserve a little fun right now, Jae.”

“Fuck you,” Jaeyun spat. “You deserve to go to Hell.”

Sunghoon took a step closer to Jaeyun, ducking his head so that they were at eye-level with each other. Jaeyun tried to struggle against Jongseong once more, but he froze when the knife pierced his skin. He felt something trickle down the column of his neck, and he soon realized it was his own blood. 

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Sunghoon mocked a pout. He lowered his voice by an octave, only for Jaeyun to hear. “Competing with a childhood friend is brave, I’ll tell you that.” 

Jaeyun’s blood boiled. To his surprise, Sunghoon gestured for Jongseong to let go of him. He took the paring knife from his friend and handed it to Jaeyun. 

“Take it,” Sunghoon said. “Why don’t you try killing me? You wanna get back at me, right? I killed your best friend, after all.”

Owlish, he blinked back at Sunghoon, almost absently. Jaeyun really considered it for a moment—like, really considered it. Some part of him wanted to senselessly beat Sunghoon up until he was unrecognizable, but the morally righteous side of him knew that he could never stoop to Jongseong or Sunghoon’s level. 

Jaeyun took the knife by the handle, weighing it in his palm experimentally before chucking it away—far from both Sunghoon and Jongseong. Jaeyun was pretty sure he could overtake Jongseong if Sunghoon turned his back, but he wasn’t sure if Jongseong had another weapon up his sleeve. He heard the blade skid and scrape against the concrete, and he could only hope that Sunghoon and Jongseong being distracted by him would give you time to escape. 

But Jeongseong immediately stopped you as soon as he saw you picking up the knife, and he let go of Jaeyun to grab ahold of you. Jaeyun tried to yank Jongseong back by the back of his shirt, but Sunghoon grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his head against the metal of one of the shipping containers.

Jaeyun’s world was thrown off-balance. The ground bounced, tilted, swayed. He was so dizzy and disoriented that he couldn’t tell if his head was spinning or if he was collapsing. 

The corners of his vision grew hazy with white splotches dancing around. Jaeyun tried hard to focus, making out some of the yelling that was going back and forth, but he couldn’t think at all when a newly-formed cut on his forehead was getting blood all over his face and hands. 

He doubled forward, falling onto his knees. Jaeyun had to stay there for a while and ride out the intense waves of vertigo until he was stable again. When the world finally returned to its normal axis and stopped bouncing under him, Jaeyun lifted his head to see you and Jongseong screaming at each other.

And Sunghoon was on the ground.

He stumbled over, and it was as if the white noise in Jaeyun’s ears had drowned out everything in the background. He couldn’t see or focus on anything except the pained look on Sunghoon’s face as the color drained from his neck. Blood was gushing from his jugular vein, and he was digging his palm into his neck to put pressure on the wound. 

“—you stabbed him!” you screamed at Jongseong. Your voice was hysterical; Jaeyun had never heard you sound so desperate, not even when he was being held at knifepoint. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I wouldn’t have hurt him if you didn’t pull on my arm!” Jongseong yelled back. He sank to the ground, simultaneously dropping the knife and dropping his head between his knees. 

The sight was miserable to watch. Jongseong wailed loud and mournful until he couldn’t take it anymore, doubling over so that he could throw up until nothing but bile was coming out. When it seemed as though he had nothing else to heave out of his stomach, Jongseong sat up for a brief moment. You and Jaeyun watched as his eyes rolled back almost instantly, falling onto his back and hitting his skull against the concrete. The exhaustion must have finally caught up to him, and you two didn’t have long until he was conscious again.

Jaeyun turned his attention back to Sunghoon, watching his life bleed out of his body slowly. For some reason, an odd disconnect came over Jaeyun, and he bent down to help apply pressure over Sunghoon’s wound. At first, Sunghoon gritted his teeth, but even he knew when to accept help when it was needed. 

Sim Jaeyun was pretty sure he was broken beyond belief by now, but it was impossible for him to ignore someone who was dying right before him. 

Even if he murdered Jungwon. 

“Y/N, we need to get him to a—” 

Jaeyun cut himself off when he looked up at you to see that your expression had changed. Something was different. You looked like numbness had seeped into your body, coiling around your heart until you couldn’t feel anything. The way you looked down at Jongseong, clutching his knife tightly, made Jaeyun worry.

“Y/N,” Jaeyun said again—slower, “whatever you’re thinking… please put it down.”

It didn’t seem like you were listening, though. Almost as if your body and brain were at two different places. 

“Y/N—” Jaeyun shuddered when you brought the knife down, driving it straight into Jongseong’s chest. 

Jaeyun’s stomach lurched. He watched as Jongseong struggled for his life, hardly conscious as you repeatedly stabbed him over and over again until Jaeyun was yelling at you to stop. He was sure he would never be able to close his eyes again without hearing Jongesong’s blood-curdling screams and seeing Sunghoon’s face drained of color. 

“Wow,” Sunghoon choked out. One last amused look crossed his face before it fell apart painfully. “I told you, Jae, there’s no competing with a childhood best friend.” Jaeyun flushed with anger, but it dissolved quickly when he realized Sunghoon’s breathing got slower, shallower. The look on his face was one of someone accepting their untimely death. “Thanks for the show, though.”

In his arms, Sunghoon took his last breath and went still.

It wasn’t grief that Jaeyun felt. It was something far greater.

“Jaeyun, I—I didn’t mean to,” you sobbed out, shakily holding up your bloodstained hands. “It was self-defense! I tried to stop him, but he was trying to kill me, and then he… he killed Sunghoon. I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t—” You exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do anything else.”

Jaeyun didn’t respond. He just stared at you in disbelief. 

“Come on, Jae,” you pleaded. Oh, so it was Jae now. “You have to help me get rid of their bodies. I can’t go to prison!”

“Get rid of the body?” Jaeyun raised his voice, exasperated. “Y/N, they’re dead! We have to tell the police everything. I mean, what are you gonna do when your prints match?”

Your lips pressed together in a grim line. “Your prints are on the knife, too.”

Were you blackmailing him? Jaeyun couldn’t believe what he was hearing from you. He never expected you, of all people, to be the one to throw him under the bus like this. He had trusted you with his life before, and you threw it all away in seconds. 

“Are you going to help me or not?” You looked toward the dock over the water. It was a good enough distance for you to drag Sunghoon and Jongseong’s bodies over to, but Jaeyun sure as hell didn’t want to get involved. “Just help me throw them in the water, and we can both walk away from this, Jae. We can go back to our lives, okay?”

He shook his head sadly. You just sounded like a stranger to him. 

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, tears stinging his eyes, “please stop this. You have to turn yourself in.”

But his resolve was shaky. Jaeyun knew that he would still be booked once they found his prints at the scene, and there was no telling what you would do to protect yourself. By now, Jaeyun wouldn’t have been surprised if you somehow pushed the crime onto him. 

“Jae, listen to me,” you insisted. Your eyes were wide and brimming with tears, and Jaeyun couldn’t help but think you looked a little crazed. “We can both get out of this, but you have to help me out here. We’re gonna tell them that Jongseong killed Sunghoon before we got here, and then he chased us until we ended up stabbing him out of self-defense. I mean, that’s all this was, anyway! It was self-defense!”

A distant part of Jaeyun’s mind wondered what happened to you. He wondered if you had always been this way, perhaps keeping it tucked away. In the end, you were still trying to protect Sunghoon in your own way. You were still trying to protect some fragment of his golden image.

“It’s you and me,” you whispered, kneeling down by your boyfriend’s side until you were cupping his face with your hands, staining his cheeks with Jongseong’s blood, “the two of us against the world.”

Just hours ago, Sim Jaeyun looked at you like you were his entire world.

And now, with your bloodstained hands holding his face, there was unmistakable fear behind his eyes as he looked up at you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so so much for reading if you made it all the way to the end !! i would lovee for you to guys to share what you thought, but just to point a few things out, jake's pov was the unfiltered version of what went down that night. the dialogue from mc is similar to jongseong's because while she painted him out to be the villain in the end to protect sunghoon, it was really her who said those things. originally this had a happier ending but i'm a lot more satisifed with this one actually. i hope you guys liked it !! <3 also i am deciding against using my permanent tag list this time because i haven't used it in a year and don't know if anyone exactly signed up to read horror 🧎‍♀️

An interesting demonstration of how the human brain works.

But also something of a lesson regarding perception, and the unreliability of subjective perspective versus objective reality.

You can be extremely certain about how you perceive the world, your "lived experience," that which you "feel it in my heart." But that doesn't mean it's actually true. And it doesn't mean we have to endorse it, or ignore or outright deny objective reality.

That's a "you" thing, not a "we" thing.

THE AMOUNT OF DISRESPECT