Ex!seungmin Who Thinks About You When He Receives His Diploma During His Graduation In Law School Because

series: love me two times

businessman minho! x former one night stand reader (and soon to be spouse)

chapter 1: whiskey, regret, and other engagement traditions

read introduction here

word count: 3100 words

WARNINGS: strong language, sexual content (maybe eventual smut if i have the strength to), emotional manipulation, toxic family dynamics, power imbalances, alcohol use, eventual gun violence, blood and injury, blackmail, surveillance, themes of control, secrecy, betrayal, emotional repression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, psychological tension under the guise of romance, dubious business dealings, mentions of public scandal and reputation damage, manipulation via arranged marriage, and consistent, unapologetically bad decision making from most, if not all, characters involved. british humour. in case you all pussy out from that.

A/N: oh my god she's here. chapter 1 is here. i have no clue as to how this is going to end but i put my whole soul, heart, brain and dick into this fic. (which is a lot, mind you) thank you for the support on a whimsical little intro i wrote at my grandparents' house while my dog slept on my feet. thank you thank you thank you. chapter 2 coming next weekend. hopefully. also omg sho's first non lower caps fic

playlist. (coming soon)

─── Lee Minho had always been a man who thrived in chaos. Corporate wars, high-stakes meetings, and PR disasters were his playground. But even he couldn’t have predicted the one nightmare he’d spent years running from would land right back in front of him, wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit, flashing a smile that had ruined him once before.

He could handle anything…

Except the one person who had, through one night alone, known exactly how to bring him to his knees.

Lee Minho liked to think of himself as a man who could handle anything.

Corporate warfare? Child’s play. High stakes negotiations? His playground. He could charm billionaires over black coffee and through a simple peak of his collarbone, crush competitors with a smile, and walk out of a scandal cleaner than he went in, usually with a headline the press couldn’t stop foaming over.

Adaptability was his superpower. Precision, his trademark. Control? Non fucking negotiable.

At least, it had been, until you happened.

Again.

He stared at you, his supposed fiancé(e), the ghost of one of his most notable past mistakes, and thought—briefly, desperately—that maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he had worked himself into a stress-induced psychotic episode, and in reality, he was rocking back and forth in his office chair while his assistant frantically called for medical assistance. Would he be embarrassed that this would be the second time this would be happening? Maybe. Would he atleast be overjoyed by the fact that you weren't standing before him, far more gorgeous than all those years ago? Absolutely.

But no. This was real. You were real. This was happening.

You were still standing there, looking just as horrified as he felt, though, annoyingly, still unfairly attractive. Time had been disgustingly kind to you. And you had that same look in your eyes as before, the one that told him you were about seven seconds away from causing him severe emotional distress. And possibly a boner. Although he wasn't drunk enough for that. Not yet, atleast.

His brain short circuited as he watched you approach the table. You, of all people. He had been expecting a stiff, glass-of-champagne, charity-gala kind of person. Not you—the human embodiment of bad decisions and incredible, incredible sex.

Minho could laugh. His parents had unknowingly betrothed him to his favourite one-night stand. Brilliant.

“You have got to be fucking with me,” you finally said, sliding into the chair across from him.

“I wish I was,” Minho muttered, picking up his glass of whiskey and downing half of it in one go.

“So,” you said, resting your elbows on the table. “Long time no see.”

Minho blinked at you. Long time no see? You were acting like you’d bumped into him at Tesco, not like you were about to be married to the man you once absolutely ruined in a hotel room after a night of reckless decisions and expensive cocktails.

You, who had once dragged him into a bathroom stall at some questionably pricey nightclub and ruined him for every person he fucked after. Which he unashamedly agreed, were a lot. And the worst part was perhaps, that he remembered everything. He remembered the way you had looked at him that night, like you knew exactly what you were doing, like you had been born to make him suffer in the best possible way. He remembered your voice, the way you had laughed at him when he’d tried to act cool and ended up tripping over his own shoes, too fancy for him at the time. And he remembered the morning after, waking up alone, the only trace of you being a note scrawled on hotel stationery that simply read:

cheers for that. 10/10. no notes.

Minho had never been so simultaneously offended and impressed in his life.

And now? Now he was supposed to marry you? Spend forever with you...or atleast attempt to?

He took another large sip of whiskey.

“So,” you said, eyes sparkling with amusement. “How’s life been treating you? Still a bit of a man whore, or have you finally learned to keep it in your tailored trousers?”

Minho inhaled sharply through his nose. “I am a legitimate businessman.”

“Ah, so still a man whore,” you mused, nodding sagely.

Minho chose to ignore you.

"This… is a mistake," he muttered, running a hand through his usually well tamed hair. "This has to be a mistake."

"Oh, absolutely. Because otherwise we'll have to tell our parents we can’t get married because we’ve already seen each other naked," you say, leaning back in your chair with an unimpressed look. The very same that had drawn Minho to you that night. Because who did you think you were? Ignoring his wit and charm as he sat in the club's sofa, basking in attention and alcohol? The arrogant lad had decided that night, to prove himself to you. And prove, he did. A decision he didn't otherwise regret...until now.

Minho groaned and tried to reach over to his glass of whiskey, only to realise you were already drinking from it. "I swear to God, this is karma. This is divine punishment for my past sins."

"Well, considering your past sins include half of Central London, yeah, probably," you said with a shrug, swirling the now empty crystal glass.

He glared at you, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. You, in contrast, beamed at him with the kind of saccharine sweetness that suggested you were enjoying every second of his suffering. Minho noted internally, that you'd make a terrible actor, given that while the smile made it seem as though he was the only one seconds away from throwing up, your bouncing knee gave you away.

Minho, for his part, looked as though his soul had momentarily left his body. He blinked slowly, like someone trying to wake from a very specific, very inconvenient nightmare.

"Right," he said eventually, clapping his hands together in a sharp, business-like motion, as though trying to galvanise himself into action. "Let’s get this over with. How are we going to get out of this engagement?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, as if the matter were no more serious than choosing what to have for lunch. "Run away to Spain? Fake your death? Oh! You could seduce my grandmother so she convinces my father to call it off?"

"I am not seducing your grandmother."

"Coward."

Before Minho could offer a retort—no doubt a scathing one—a waiter, appeared at your table. He was the very picture of refined hospitality: all polite smiles, pressed shirt cuffs, and the faint waft of expensive cologne that trailed behind him like a signature.

"Good evening. May I start you off with a drink?"

"Whiskey. Double. Actually, just bring the bottle," Minho said, without so much as a blink, eyes still on you.

"Make that two," you added, not missing a beat, but still being polite and stable enough to break eye contact with Minho and smile at the waiter.

The attendant gave a courteous nod and retreated, leaving behind a faint trail of bergamot and judgement.

Minho exhaled slowly and dropped his head into his hands for a moment before glancing up at you, utterly defeated.

"This is going to be a disaster," he muttered, as if saying it aloud might somehow lessen the blow.

Minho barely had a moment to wallow in the tragic comedy of his predicament — engaged, against all logic, to a person who had just suggested seducing their own grandmother — before reality doubled down.

It came in the form of a booming, far-too-cheerful voice that could only belong to one man.

“Ah, Minho, you’ve met your fiancé(e)! Wonderful!”

The words rang through the restaurant and Minho flinched so hard he nearly knocked over the cutlery. He didn’t dare turn around. There was no need. He knew that voice. That was the voice of a man who thought forced betrothal was not only acceptable, but downright romantic.

His father.

Minho visibly recoiled, gripping the edge of the table as if bracing for impact. He had to physically resist the very natural urge to bang his forehead repeatedly against the pristine linen tablecloth.

And then, his parents descended upon the table in full force — exuding money, control issues, and the smug satisfaction of people who had just solved a problem by creating three more.

His mother was dressed in a sleek, couture suit that probably required its own bank account, looking every inch the woman who judged people based on the mineral content of their bottled water. His father wore the expression of someone who’d just sealed a lucrative merger and genuinely believed his son should be grateful for it.

And then there was your dad.

Looking every bit like the kind of man who once tried to bribe a headmaster with a case of vintage wine and a framed photo of himself shaking hands with a minor royal. So what if you weren't the best at studies during school? Was it really your fault that your Physics teacher was a bigger bitch than daddy dearest here?

Minho had never met him before, but he looked exactly as one might expect the father of someone like you to look—sharp suit, sharper glare, and the quiet intensity of a man who considered emotional vulnerability a personal failure. He radiated a kind of heavy, generational disappointment, like someone who’d been sighing over your life choices since the moment you learned how to form opinions of your own.

“Hello, sweetheart,” your dad said, planting a quick kiss on your forehead, affectionate in the way a CEO might congratulate a junior employee for not burning the office down. Then he turned to Minho, assessing the man who was supposed to be his future son-in-law with a look that would've made 16 year old Minho audibly whimper.

Your husband-to-be, drawing out every ounce of his professionalism, business acumen, and carefully cultivated adult composure, managed to respond with:

“Hi.”

Brilliant. Smooth. Absolutely nailed it. James Bond could never.

Your dad, unsurprisingly, looked as though he’d just been personally insulted.

Minho’s own parents, however, were beaming across the table, undoubtedly proud of their matchmaking skills.

“This is perfect,” his mother gushed, settling into her seat like she’d orchestrated the entire evening herself (she had). “I knew you two would suit each other.”

Minho let out a laugh that could only be described as emotionally strangled. Suit each other? Yes, absolutely. Because nothing screamed long term compatibility like a one-night stand from his blackout phase that he'd spent the past few years actively repressing, only to now be legally tethered to it in holy matrimony.

“So,” your dad said, leaning back in his chair with all the gravitas of a man about to sign a trade deal. “Shall we discuss the terms of this marriage?”

Terms. Terms. Marriage. Minho wasn’t sure which part of that sentence he found more horrifying — the casual contract language or the undeniable implication that none of this was a joke.

Minho looked at you, searching your face for some kind of solidarity. Instead, he found you sipping your whiskey like it was just another Wednesday, eyes half-lidded, posture relaxed—like this whole thing wasn’t giving you heart palpitations.

But oh, it was.

You weren’t calm. You were resigned. You’d played this game before. You knew exactly how your father operated: charm first, control second, and condescension somewhere in between. This wasn’t a dinner—it was a business meeting. And you were already sick of it.

“Well,” his father said briskly, “the wedding will take place in three months.”

Minho choked violently on his drink. “Three months?!”

“Yes,” his mother replied smoothly, not even blinking. “Any longer and people will start gossiping.”

Gossiping. Of course. Because obviously, public perception was the real villain here.

“Three months is plenty of time,” your dad added, nodding with the calm authority of a man who hadn’t even asked how you felt about any of this.

Minho's brown eyed flickered to you again, looking for help. A hotline number. A hint of rebellion. Something. Anything.

You just smiled at him.

It wasn’t kind.

“Now then,” your dad continued, “what about a prenup?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Minho’s father nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have our legal teams draft it immediately.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all well and good,” Minho cut in, finally finding the will to form sentences again. “But- do I get a say in this?”

His mother tilted her head in that familiar, patronising way that suggested she thought his input was adorable but entirely unnecessary.

“Minho, darling,” she said, her tone one of pure condescension, “this is for your own good.”

Your dad chimed in, nodding. “If either of you had a reliable romantic track record, we wouldn’t be here. But let’s be honest-” he waved a hand vaguely in your direction “-you don’t, and-” he turned to Minho, gaze sharp and deeply insulting,“-you certainly don’t.”

You smiled tightly, jaw clenched just enough that it hurt.

Minho felt his soul attempt to vacate his body. Right there. In the middle of this overpriced, mood-lit, jazz-playing nightmare of a restaurant. He was going to die. And the only thing good about a death here would be that Art Blakey was playing in the background.

“So it’s settled,” his mother said brightly, with finality in her voice, “Three months from now, we’ll have a wedding.”

Minho turned to you. You turned to him.

You raised your glass in a slow, sarcastic toast.

“To our bright and happy future,” you said, voice honeyed, but eyes suddenly cold.

And your father smiled like he’d just won. Because unbeknownst to the two of you, he had.

•━━━━━━━━━━━•

Minho had made a lot of terrible decisions in his life. A truly impressive number. Enough to warrant a multi-part documentary series, probably titled Lee Minho: A Lifetime of Questionable Choices—with dramatic re-enactments, ominous voiceovers, and a theme song that sounded like a slow motion car crash. His friends could probably star in it too.

But agreeing (not really) to marry you?

Oh, that was shooting straight to the top of the list. Hall of fame. Permanent exhibit in the Museum of Regret.

Because it had been barely twenty four hours since the disaster that was your engagement dinner, and already, he felt his life being ruined, one sarcastic comment at a time.

“So, how long have you two been engaged?” Felix asked innocently, if one could call anything Felix did innocent, while stirring sugar into his overpriced cold brew.

Minho looked up from his coffee, eyes already tired. He’d made the mistake of inviting you to brunch with his friends. In public. With witnesses. Clearly, he’d suffered a blow to the head.

“Oh, it’s been wonderful,” you gushed. You reached over to squeeze Minho’s hand like you actually meant it. Maybe you did. Minho didn't want to bother with the details if it meant another migraine. “We’ve been informally engaged for a whole, what, twelve hours now? It’s been magical. Truly life altering. I can’t wait to be legally bound to this man forever.”

Minho squeezed your hand back. Hard.

“Yes,” he deadpanned. “Overjoyed. Thrilled. Best day of my life.”

Felix, the little gremlin, grinned, his mind already turning your worrying marriage into a soap opera. “Well, it’s about time you settled down, hyung. You’ve been a menace to society for years.”

“First of all, that is highly inappropriate. I am a legitimate businessma-”

“Mate,” Chan, Minho’s business partner, cut in. “You once forgot a woman’s name mid-bloody-date.”

“And she had to remind you,” Hyunjin added, sipping his neon-green liquid. Whatever it was.

“And you still got her number,” Seungmin chimed in, looking vaguely offended on behalf of all women. You'd be sure to send his number to your recently heartbroken friend.

Minho groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why had he thought bringing you to brunch was a good idea? Why had he brought you into public? With his friends at that? He had practically announced a 'Bully-Lee-Minho' day himself.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said brightly. Too brightly. “He’s very devoted now. Wakes up every morning and just stares at me in awe, whispering about how lucky he is.”

Felix gasped, awestruck at the beauty of love at first sight. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” you said, smiling. “He even cries a little.”

Minho nearly inhaled his coffee. “I do not-”

“He does,” you said solemnly, giving his hand another squeeze. “It’s beautiful.”

Chan leaned back in his chair, way too entertained. “Well, I can’t wait for the wedding. Have you set a date?”

“Not yet,” Minho said quickly, cutting you off before you could say something like ‘we’re thinking next week, on a volcano.’ “We’re taking our time.”

“Oh, obviously,” you added, ever helpful. “We have to enjoy the honeymoon phase before I find out all his deep, dark secrets. Like his skincare routine, or lack thereof. Which I'll have to change either way. Or his browser history.”

Hyunjin gagged. “Please. Spare us.”

“No, no,” you mused, eyes alight with mischief. “I think he’s hiding something. Like a secret past. Maybe he was a failed K-pop trainee. Maybe he’s got a tattoo that says ‘Live, Laugh, Love.’ Or he owns a mug that says Boss Babe.”

"I actually gifted him that." Chan added, sipping his protein smoothie.

“Or if he has a pet rock named Gary, considering one of his girlfriends was Australian,” Hyunjin added and Chan nods proudly.

“Or an old TikTok account where he lipsyncs to early 2000s emo hits,” Seungmin said.

“I knew you gave eyeliner energy,” Felix muttered.

Minho buried his face in his hands. “Please. I am begging you all to stop.”

You just leaned in, resting your chin in your hand as you smiled sweetly. “Aww. He’s shy.”

Minho resisted the urge to walk directly into London traffic.

But even as the table erupted into laughter, and your brunch turned into an impromptu roast, something shifted. A cold thread of unease slid down Minho’s spine.

You were laughing, yes. Playing the part perfectly. But beneath the sparkle in your eyes was something else—something guarded. The way your smile didn’t quite reach all the way. The way your shoulders tensed every time someone mentioned the wedding, like the word itself had claws.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, not entirely. Maybe it was the text from your father that he had watched you ignore minutes ago. Maybe it was the transparent pants Hyunjin had worn years earlier making a reappearance in his head for some reason. Or maybe it was just his own overworked brain, spinning a conspiracy out of nerves and too much caffeine.

Whatever it was, Minho decided to shelve it for later. He had reports to review. Contracts to sign. A mountain of paperwork waiting for him and exactly zero emotional bandwidth to spare.

He’d figure it out. Eventually.

For now, he’d go home, finish his paperwork, and go to sleep.

Not knowing that what he’d wake up to would be far more fearsome than your father’s moustache.

Far, far worse.

Because somewhere, in a dimly lit security office, a grainy CCTV recording, dated four years ago, timestamped 2:14 a.m., was being uploaded by hands far too eager and far too vengeful.

A bed. A hotel logo in the corner. Two familiar silhouettes.

And the unmistakable beginning of the scandal that would burn everything to the ground.

...

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Always You

Pairing: Best friend! Bangchan x Afab! Reader

Summary: It’s hard to enjoy a party when your best friend who you’ve been in love with for years turns up with his girlfriend…

Warnings: MDNI, dom!chan, sub!reader, possessive!chan, unprotected sex (don’t be like them) dirty talk, cum eating, multiple orgasms (f!rec) fingering (f!rec) mentions of mastubation, spitting (chan spits on it yk..) tummy bulge, creampie

Wc: 2.7k

a/n: did I write and edit it this in one sitting? yes I did,,, is this also my return to writing fics after 5 years bc I’m so attracted to chan idk what to do?? Also yes 🤪

‘‘Lixieee watch my drink, I nearly dropped it’’ You roll your eyes and smile at Felix as he practically jumps on you. His parties were always rowdy, especially when Jisung wormed his way into the planning. Colourful lights strewn around every pillar and doorway, countless bottles and cheesy red cups littering the granite countertops in the dorm kitchen, the air thick with smoke and the sickly sweet scent of liquor.

Part of you loved how committed the boys were to throwing the most stereotypical frat parties, the perfect way to unwind from the stress of uni life. You scan the room for that all too familiar face but find no sign of him, your shoulders dropping slightly, the disappointment in your chest too strong to ignore.

You and Chan had been best friends since you were 12, your parents pushing you together as an unlikely duo. You'd immediately become inseparable,spending every second with each other. People had always questioned your relationship, everyone thought you must be dating if you were so close, but you and Chan were just friends, at least that's what you convinced yourself it had to be.

You first started having feelings for Chan at 18, you were university freshmen starting the next big chapter of your lives together and you couldn't get him out of your head. His deep brown eyes that sparkled when he spoke about the things he loved, his soft curly black hair that you loved ruffling to annoy him and his dimples that became impossibly deep when he smiled. Being around him was both torture and comfort. Three years later and you were still completely in love with someone who views you as his best friend, nothing more. In other words, you're utterly fucked.

‘’Lix, have you seen Chan tonight? I thought he was coming’’  Felix still clinging to you in his tipsy state. His messy blonde hair slightly covering his eyes and freckle-dotted cheeks, a pink blush dusting his skin thanks to the many drinks he’d already knocked back.

‘’Nah not yet, he said he's coming later after his date’’ he slurs his words a little, all giggly and happy, not knowing the ache his words cause you. You hum in response, suddenly feeling less sociable than a few minutes ago.

‘’Ahhhhh speak of the devil’’ Felix laughs and nods toward the doorway, Chan's broad shoulders making it look tiny. His hand interlocked with hers, observing the room and briefly locking eyes with you before looking away.

Chan had been dating Euna for a few months, but it never got easier seeing them together. 

They'd met in one of your classes, Euna was sweet, pretty  and very popular with both the students and teachers. It hadn’t taken Chan too long to fall for her and spend less and less time with you. He swore nothing had changed between you two but you knew better. It wasn't long after they started dating that Chan began cancelling your plans because ‘Euna planned something’ or he ‘just couldn't make it that day’ You wanted to believe that it would all go back to the way it was soon enough but that day never came, Chan drifting further as time passed. 

You missed his smile, the way he would make you laugh, the way he would bring you your favourite food when you were tired or upset. You thought that maybe one day you would be together, that Chan would see you as more than just his best friend. Sometimes it felt like more between you two. 

He and Euna weave their way through the crowd, her trailing slightly behind, Chan looking back at her every so often with a smile, the sight of them making you nauseous though you wish it didn't. Chan lets go of her to pull Felix into a hug, Euna eyeing you awkwardly as the two of them catch up. Euna had never been rude to you, never made a snarky comment about you being friends with Chan, but she never really said much around you if you were honest. 

‘’Your dress is super pretty’’ you squeak out attempting to break the silence between you two, She offers up a small thank you and a tight smile and turns to Chan as he pulls her into his side, his attention now on the two of you instead of the tipsy blonde Aussie

 ‘’Hey y/n’’ Chan smiles as he lets go of Euna and pulls you into a quick side hug, letting go as quickly as he’d pulled you in, his soft musky scent filling your senses. The four of you make small talk, Chan's eyes catching your own as Felix rambles to Euna about his current pc build. The air starts to feel suffocating, his glances making you feel trapped. You quickly make an excuse to leave, Chan's smile faltering as you excuse yourself from their conversation and disappear into the crowd of bodies. 

It was impossible to think while Chan was standing there, his arms wrapped around Euna unapologetically. The jealousy burning more than the straight tequila sloshing around in your cup, you start to sway to the music begging yourself to forget about him and enjoy your night. You feel a pair of eyes follow your silhouette but you continue to drink and dance, the alcohol making its way through your system and drowning out every thought.

 You feel a figure behind you grabbing your hips and swaying with you, turning your head to see the blurred outline of Hyunjin, his hair in his eyes, a pair of red sunglasses perched on his nose. You let yourself melt into him, you'd always found him attractive anyway. You and Hyunjin move together perfectly, his smooth movements guiding your own as he whispers the lyrics to the song in your ear, his plump lips catching your skin slightly. You finally move your eyes to Chan still feeling someone watching you, secretly wishing it was him. You’re met with a sharp glare, his eyes never leaving you and Hyunjin, his jaw locked in annoyance, you roll your eyes at him and turn around to face Hyunjin winding your arms around his slender neck. 

You turn back to glance at Chan to find him charging your way, ripping you from your dance partner's embrace and towards the stairwell. 

‘’Chan what the fuck are you doing?’’ you yell, trying to wriggle your wrist from his strong grip as he pulls you upstairs and into one of the empty bedrooms.

‘’What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are YOU doing y/n? Grinding all over Hyunjin like that’’

‘’We are not doing this right now, why does it have anything to do with you, Chan? Why do you even care?’’ venom coating your words, attempting to open the door and leave but being stopped short when he stands in the way, eyes burning into yours. Chan had never been like this with you, what had gotten into him?

‘’What? Are you suddenly into Hyunjin?? We both know he's not right for you y/n’’  his eyebrows knitted in annoyance.

‘’And how would you know what's best for me Chan? We hardly talk anymore!’’ you run your fingers through your hair, easing the tension building up behind your eyes. 

‘’Of course we still talk, you know i've been busy’’ he fires back, disregarding how much space really had built up between the two of you. 

’Give it up Chan and go back to Euna, what I do with Hyunjin has fuck all to do with you’’ you can't deal with the confusion, why is he acting like he's jealous of you and Hyunjin? Why does it matter to him? 

‘’’I’m your best friend y/n of course it has something to do with me, he's not right for you’’ 

‘’Oh my god get your head out of your ass chan, just like you said, you're my best friend not my boyfriend. You can date but I can't? I'm not gonna wait on you to notice me for the rest of my life’’ You turn your face away from him, your confidence and fire slipping as Chan studies you intensely, the room silent apart from your breathing. 

‘’My god you’re an idiot’’ Chan mumbles before grabbing your chin and smashing his lips onto yours, you melt into the kiss at first before snapping out of it and pushing him away

Chan what are you doing?’’ You feel dizzy as you maintain your balance, your hands still pressed against his toned chest. your lungs heaving in time with the thud of the music coming from below. 

‘’You really have no idea, do you? I’m fucking in love with you y/n, why do you think I even started dating Euna in the first place, I wanted to get over you, why else would I jump into a relationship with a girl I hardly knew??’’ The annoyance in his voice evident as he goes on, he runs his hand through his hair repeatedly,  messy waves falling in his face. 

You stare up at him stunned, your lips parted in surprise, he pulls you back in, his lips covering yours as he presses you into him with fervour. He deepens the kiss and walks you backwards, his hands pressing into your hips, his hold nothing like hyunjins. He pulls away his eyes searching yours for something, anything. 

“Tell me to stop, if you don't want this I’ll walk away” his voice is breathy and pained, evident that the last thing he wanted was for you to say now.

You've waited too long for this, for him to need you, touch you. You know it's wrong, his girlfriend just a floor below but you’ve wanted and waited too much to stop and walk away, you can deal with your moral shortcomings tomorrow. 

‘’Please, Chan’’ you whisper, desperate for him to touch you again, clenching your thighs together as heat pools in your lower stomach, your insides on fire for him. He watches how desperate you are for him, your answer clear.

‘’Fuck you’re perfect’’ you look at him pleadingly and he can't hold back anymore, he’d thought about you like this too many times to count, in dreams and when awake. When he can't sleep and he fucks his fist wishing it was you, how pretty your moans would sound as he rocked into you, how tight you'd be around him, how his cum would leak out of your fluttering hole. He was too far gone, a man possessed. 

You gasp as he pushes you back on the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress perfectly, he licks and nips at your jaw, his hand finding your soaked underwear under your skirt, circling your puffy clit through the slick fabric. 

“You’re so wet for me baby, bet Hyunjin could never have this effect on you. Gonna fuck you so good you'll forget he exists’’ his words making you tingle, his fingers exactly where you need them.

‘’Only want you’’ Your voice comes out breathy and fucked out even though he’s barely touched you and it sends a rush of blood to Chan's already rock-solid cock, straining against the tight fabric of his black jeans.

He sinks two fingers into your tight pussy and you scream in pleasure and pain at the intrusion, his fingers so much thicker and longer than yours, the stretch taking your breath away 

‘’Yeah be a good girl and take my fingers in that tight little cunt, I know you can’’ The way he whispers as your pussy stretches around his fingers and wet squelches echo through the room has you throwing your head back, Chans other hand finding your tits as he stretches you out for him. You shake as he moves his fingers in and out of you, the stretch now dissolved into intense pleasure. He can tell you're close, your eyes closed in pleasure as you sigh out his name.

‘’cum for me pretty, cum around my fingers’’ You moan his name over and over as he rubs your soaking clit and plunges his fingers into your sopping hole,  your back arching in pleasure as he works you through your high. Shouting his name as you cum on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean. The sight alone already making you needy for more 

‘’Need you so bad baby, need to feel you milk my cock’’ he breathes out as he undoes his belt, desperate to be inside of you. You spread your sticky thighs, your glistening pussy on full display for him. His cock springs free from its confines, his pink tip leaking down onto the rest of his thick veiny length. It was no surprise he had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen. He gives it a few pumps, slapping your clit with his bulbous tip, and you moan in pleasure at the sting. 

‘’Take it, baby. Gonna stretch you out so good, gonna make you mine’’ his voice shaky as he presses into you, your pussy spasming around his hard length splitting you open, he slowly bottoms out with a moan stilling inside you. His cock making your stomach bulge with his size 

‘’Fuckfuckfuckkkk you're still so tight, such a perfect pussy’’ his words coming out more like a mantra, the feeling of you around him making him pussydrunk. He fucks in and out of you grabbing your thighs, spreading you wider for him, watching where you’re joined as he takes you. 

 ‘’talk to me baby girl, tell me how I make you feel’’ 

‘’Love it when you fuck me Channie, love your cock so much’’ your voice strained and whiny, writhing against the sheets as he sets a rough pace. He spits on your pussy, the liquid dripping down to where you meet, the sight only aiding his pleasure. 

‘’Bet you thought about this huh? Thought about how good it would feel when I ruin you, hmm baby? Bet you’d touch this little clit thinking about how good I would fuck you?’’ His thrusts become sloppy as he nears his orgasm, his fingers coming to circle your clit. Your moans getting louder as you get close for the second time.

‘’Cum with me baby, wanna cum in this pussy, fill you up with my cum’’ his thrusts getting more erratic and desperate as you orgasm together. You scream his name, your nails digging into his toned back muscles. Chan stills as he spurts his hot release into you, his cum painting your insides a milky white. He collapses onto you, his muscled chest pressed against your fucked out form, both of you breathing heavily. 

‘’Fuck you're mine, just mine’’ he whispers, his cock still inside you, both your release leaking out around his still hard dick.. 

‘’Yeah just yours, Channie’’ you breathe out dreamily, still coming down from your high  

You both lay like that for a while, Chan's face tucked into your neck, leaving gentle kisses, his cock stiffening again inside of you, the party coming to an end downstairs. Things had happened so fast you hadn't realised Chan brought you to his own room, the purple lights giving his skin a lilac hue. 

‘’Chan. What happens now?” You hesitate not wanting to ruin the moment, praying you didn't just fuck everything up with him with a simple question.

He sighs into your skin snuggling closer ‘’I meant it when I said you're mine y/n, Euna knows she and I are done, she knew I was in love with you. I want this, I want you’’ his voice soft and sleepy. 

Your heart nearly explodes, ‘’I love you too Chan, I want you too’’ you kiss him passionately, his tongue fighting yours for dominance, smiling into the kiss as he begins moving inside you again. It feels like a dream and you can't believe he's in love with you too, that he wants you like you want him. Now you have him you'll never let him go, you have always been his, even if he didn't know it. 

‘’It's always been you y/n’’

-ty for reading!! Alr working on more hehe

༄ INTO IT B. CHAN !

PAIRING✰ — best friend!Chan x blackfem!reader

synopsis: having a crush on your best friend Chan couldn’t be hidden anymore.

genre: angst , smut

warning: foul language, reader uses she/her prns, reader is black coded, some fluff, unprotected sex (pls don’t do this), creampie, rough sex, praise kink, softdom!chan, pet names ( bunny & baby, but mainly bunny! ), pussy drunk Chan, Chan is HUGE (sorry not sorry), aftercare, let me know if there’s more !

a/n: requested by @penny44224 ! I finally finished thiss! this only took long because my computer was acting up and I got it fixed last week so sorry for the slow updates. I’m also trying a new style hope you guys like it 🙃🫶🏽

“Fuck, I’m nervous.” You smoothed out your outfit after you stepped out your car. Checking your reflection on your car windows, your hair looked fine and so does your makeup. Your heels clicking on the concrete floor as you made your way towards the house. The further you got to the door, the louder the music got. You could immediately recognize the song, tgif by glorilla playing.

Twisting the doorknob you was instantly greeted by the smell of weed and alcohol. People dancing and just vibing. You grabbed your phone out your purse to text your friend Mina again to see where she was at.

y/n: Mina, wya I’m here?

Mina: finally girl, I’m in the back outside with the rest.

y/n: okay!

Putting your phone away back in your purse, you started to move through people, saying excuse me along the way. “Damn, can’t say—” You were about to go off on the person that bumped into. When you turned around, you were met with Chan, your best friend looking down at you with a smile on his face. You almost lost your balance because damn, he looks good.

He could make a simple black outfit look so good. “Sorry about that bunny, didn’t see you.” Chan teased before giving you a hug. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach from the cute pet name he calls you all the time.

He pulled away from the hug taking in your outfit with a raised eyebrow. “What? I look bad.?” Your voice coming out softly caused Chan to shake his head. “No no, you just— wow, you look beautiful.” He complimented still staring at your appearance. You smiled muttering a small thank you, feeling shy about his compliment.

Chan snapped out his trance before clearing his throat, he grabbed your hand before saying, “i was on my way to get another drink, wanna come?” You moved closer to his face due to the fact you couldn’t hear him since the music got even louder once the next song after party by Don Toliver played. “Say that again.” You said loudly over the music. He pulled you closer by the waist, moved his face closer to your ear and whispered lowly.

“You coming with me or not?” He said before pulling away to look down at you. What he didn’t know that you were going crazy on the inside from the way his voice deepened. He did that on purpose or are you trippin?

“U-uhm, yea I’ll go with you.” You didn’t know where he was going to take you, but you really didn’t care, “good.” He gave you that famous innocent smile like he didn’t just make you feel butterflies and took you further away from the people who were dancing and grinding.

Yall made your way to the kitchen, you could see two familiar faces chatting together while holding a red plastic cup in their hands. The beautiful man that had long blonde hair was the first to notice you two, his eyes slightly dazed, but they sparkled once seeing you and Chan coming towards them. “Omg you’re here!” You giggled as he made his way towards you, pushing Chan out the way and hugged you tightly.

“Hi Felix.” You smiled embracing him as well before he let go to look at you. “Damn, you look fine as fuck, who you trying to get dick down by tonight?” Your eyes immediately widen before laughing once Chan delivered a punch to Felix shoulder causing him to glare at him while Chan did the same.

“You look stunning y/n.” The voice coming behind Felix came in view as he smiled at you. “Thanks Minho.” You smiled causing him to wink at you. “Ok enough flirting you two.” Chan said playfully but firmly before pushing the two lightly out of your way so you could walk further into the kitchen.

You grabbed a red plastic cup and filled it a little bit of half and half. “Not in the mood to drink?” Chan watched your movements as he did the same, but filling the cup with more alcohol than fruit punch.

“Yea—” “y/n! There you are.” You peeked over Chan’s shoulder seeing your friend Mina walking towards you, smiling ear to ear. Her eyes soon averted towards Chan, eyes sparkling a little “Hii Chan.” Mina voice came out smoothly in a flirtatious manner, that you ignored, wanting to believe your mind was playing tricks on you.

“Hi Mina.” Chan didn’t even glance her way, more focused on his cup, voice coming out nonchalant before taking a sip of his mixture that he created. Mina finally acknowledged you again and looked you up and down. “You look..pretty.” She complimented.

“Thank you?” You said, not really feeling the compliment, it felt fake? “I thought you were coming out back with me?” She tilted her head, grabbing a cup as well to get a drink.

“I was, but I bumped into Chan on my way and—” Mina gasped as she interrupted your sentence, she looked at Chan once again grabbing on his bicep before speaking again. “That reminds me, Chan are you in the mood to play beer pong?”

“Damn, just going to interrupt her talking like that?” You could hear Minho voice laced with irritation in the back as he watched along with Felix leaning against the counter. Mina smacked her lips, giving Minho a dirty look, while Chan released her grip.

Minho never really liked Mina, but you told him before that she’s a really good person and has a kind heart. “I don’t know something iffy about her.” Minho once said a couple weeks ago when you and Jisung was out shopping for some things, Mina soon brought up into the conversation out of know where.

You honestly didn’t know where this attitude was coming from, but you sure as well didn’t have a good feeling about it. You being you still brushed it off, “It’s fine Minho.” You said calmly.

You didn’t notice the way Mina rolled her eyes before looking back at Chan, waiting patiently for his answer. “I’ll play if y/n plays.” Chan finally said looking at you with an unreadable expression. Mina gave a tight lip smile before giggling. “Of course she’s playing silly, right y/n.” “Uhmm, yea I’m down.” You smiled, glancing at the still left over drink in your cup, “you finish?” Chan asked softly.

You looked up at him nodding your head yes. Without a word he took your cup for you, “I can throw it away.” You said watching him switch the cup where your lip gloss stain wasn’t on the ridge. “Nah It’s fine, I added a shit ton of alcohol in my cup.” He joked.

“Ok enough smalll talk, let’s go!” Mina was quick to grab both yours and Chan hand dragging the both of you out the kitchen. You look back to see Minho and Felix trailing right behind.

You could hear laughter and shout as soon as you stepped outside. You could see the rest of your friends already playing beer pong. Changbin was the first to notice y’all, he instantly smiled, “look who’s finally here!” Changbin came up to you and and Chan, giving you a tight hug which you excepted with a warm smile gracing your face.

“You wanna play beer pong?” Changbin released his grip on you and dapped up Chan, waiting for your answer. “She already agreed bin.” Mina said for you, pulling you closer towards her after Chan moved away from her.

“I wasn’t asking you Mia.” “It’s Mina.” She replied glaring at him, “whatever.” You stifled your laughter at their bickering, Mina held up her hand dismissing Changbin before looking at you. “You and me are playing first.” She grinned linking her arm around yours, dragging you away from your friends.

You could see Seungmin and Hyunjin having an intense round while Han watches keeping score. Han eyes shift towards you and Mina, smiling that big smile he waved at you both. “Look who’s here!” Han shouted causing Hyunjin to lose his focus and miss one of Seungmin’s cup. Hyunjin groaned earning a cocky smirk from Seungmin and a sorry look from Han who received a glare in return.

“Drink up or spill a secret.” Seungmin teased waiting patiently for Hyunjin to make a decision. Hyunjin doesn’t back away from a challenge so he shrugged his shoulders answering without any fear. “I slept with your cousin two weeks ago.”

“OK! anyone next to play.” Han cut the tension short as Seungmin was ready to pounce on Hyunjin. “Is that why you have been texting me asking about her!- yah, come here.” Seungmin grumbled something in Korean before trying to get ahold of Hyunjin who only ran away laughing. He saw you and instantly hid behind you. “Y/n, get him! He’s trying to kill me.” You shook your head as Seungmin got closer.

“I would to if you slept with my cousin.” “But we like each other, it’s not like I hit and quit, that’s not like me.” Hyunjin retorted, letting out a yelp in the process as Seungmin finally reached him, putting Hyunjin in a headlock while he apologized profusely.

“He was so cocky while saying that, now look at him.” Chan said smiling while shaking his head, watching the scene unfold.

“Han me and y/n want next.” Mina pulled you over towards the table going to the opposite side. “Do you know how the rules work?” Han asked looking at you. You shook your head no, letting Han explain the rules “Ok so, we do beer pong our own way by shooting a ball in the other person’s cup, if you miss you drink or tell a secret. If you don’t miss, the other person has to drink or tell a secret.” You took in the information, understanding the rules before smiling.

“That sounds easy.” The game was going fairly smoothly, you were surprised by how many cups you got the ball in. Han, the rest of your friends and others watched intensely as Mina and you came down to a few more cups.

You felt pressured because even though music was playing loudly and people having fun, it felt like it got quiet. You focused on the cup you were aiming for and shot it lightly. “Fuck.” You mumbled, watching the ball bounce away from the cup, you glanced to see Mina smirking.

“Go ahead. Spill a secret.”

Her words were taunting you, she looked you in the eyes, communicating with you causing you to gulp down hard on your own saliva while feeling eyes watching you.

You were quick to pick up the cup ready to put your lips on it and down the drink that was inside, just to get over with it. “Oh come on y/n, I know you have a juicy secret to tell.” Mina was not looking at you anymore with playful eyes it felt like she started to get irritated.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You replied voice coming out in a small whisper.

“Oh but I think you do.” Mina watched as you hesitantly glanced over at Chan, embarrassment creeping up your skin as you felt like all attention was on you.

“Mina I think you—” Han reached out to Mina trying to get her to stop, but she wouldn’t budge, in fact she was determined for you to say it. The secret that you and Mina only know, the one thing that you trusted her with if anything. You felt your lips start to tremble as you stayed silent. Pleading with your eyes to Mina, but it only made her annoyed further.

“Since you’re being so scared I’ll say it,” Mina took one look at Chan, grinning proudly. “Y/n has a crush on you Chan.”

Instant heartbreak. It felt like your whole body froze and your stomach had dropped. You felt the tears welled up in your eyes feeling betrayed as Mina scoffed at you. “Can you believe that? Out of all people, you have a crush on Chan!” She clapped her hands meanwhile everyone around you stood in complete silence watching the scene unfold.

You could hear low whispered around you and small laughter being passed around, “Mina what the fuck is wrong with you.” Seungmin was the first to break the silence, eyes filled with anger.

“Omg, we were all thinking it,” she turned back to you making sure you understood everything she was saying. “You knew I like Chan, yet you still want him? Face it, he would never date you.” You let her words sink in and you immediately let the first tear slide down your cheek, that was enough before your feet could finally move and head straight to the door.

Not even glancing at anyone else especially Chan’s eyes, ignoring him calling your name as your main goal was to go home and never come back.

The sound of heavy rain tapped against your window and music playing in the background along with it to help you stop thinking about what happened twenty minutes ago at the party. You felt your tears never stop as you packed your clothes inside two different suitcases. You couldn’t stay, not after such embarrassment, you just couldn’t.

Knowing Chan witnessed everything, such a vulnerable moment had you crying even more. Zipping up your suitcase, you paused the song that was playing on your tv before carrying both suitcases by the door leaving them there. Before you could turn around and finish with your other stuff, a hard knock was coming from your door, startling you because you wasn’t expecting anyone. You didn’t even get a call or text that someone would be coming.

You looked through the peep whole to see who it was, “Chan?” You opened the door seeing Chan standing there all soaked, breathing hard, and eyes staring into your soul. You looked at him confused not finding any words to say.

“Are you not going to let me in?” He sounded out of breath, but his tone was in a teasing manner. Snapping out your trance you stepped aside letting him step inside your apartment. Chan took notice of your suitcases, letting out a sigh while placing his shoes to the side before turning towards you. All playfulness leaving his body as he stood there soaked and serious.

You hate to admit that he looks good right now. You felt shy in front of him, you couldn’t even look him in the eyes. Too nervous to do so.

“So that’s it, you’re going to leave because of what Mina said.” Was he angry? Of course he was angry, “look Chan I already have been embarrassed enough tonight, just— please don’t scold me.” Your voice trembled as you finally looked up at him, tears glossing your eyes. Chan face dropped moving closer towards you, gracing your face with his cold hands that somehow brung a sudden warm feeling to your body.

“I would never scold you I just…don’t want you to leave.” He whispered wiping the tear that managed to escape your pretty eyes. “I don’t want you to leave me.” You could’ve sworn Chan eyes flickered from your lips back to your eyes.

“B-But Mina was right.” Your voice died down as Chan shook his head no, looking at you with an unreadable look. “Fuck Mina and whatever she said to you at the party, she doesn’t know shit.” Chan let go of your face, but never once step away from you.

“She’s not the one I want.”

Your heart started to beat faster at Chan’s words. “She’s not?” “No and she’ll never be.” Chan smiled as he let you put two and two together. Chan laughed as pulled you even closer than before, his words finally dawned on you.

“I want you bunny.” There go that nickname again, the smirk that graced his face and his eyes shifting to something different. Love and lust. You felt like you were dreaming, this couldn’t be real. “I don’t know what to say-.” You gulped as Chan leaned his face in, whispering to you, “You don’t have to, just let me show you how much I need you.”

Chan was serious and he was definitely going to prove to you that he wants you. It took you a minute to nod your head yes, but only one second for Chan’s lips to be yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck while he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you with so much passion and love.

The kiss turned eager as you both went further and further to your bedroom. Along the way, Chan placed hot kisses along your neck, releasing pleasurable moans from your lips. You combed your hand in his wet hair as he picked you up and placed you on your bed softly. He stood there, lips red and eyes filled with lust, drinking in your appearance.

“You look beautiful baby.” You felt like he was undressing you with his eyes, without any shame he got on top of you, kissing your lips once again. “I’ve waited for this moment for so long.” He mumbled against your lips, hands roaming your body with need. “Me too.” You whispered causing Chan to smile before pulling away.

“Yeah? I’m sorry I took so long…” He looked at you with so much love and affection. “Don’t be sorry— just..please I need you Chan.” Your voice grew needy, not realizing that you started to grind on his leg in the process. “Shit. You’re driving me crazy bunny.” Chan leaned up disregarding his wet shirt that was sticking to his body. You gawked at the sight of his abs flexing and glistening.

You couldn’t believe you were finally seeing him up close like this—on top of you at that. You pulled him down by his belt to kiss you more, breaking the kiss from time to time to help you take off your clothes. “Eager huh?” Chan teased earning a whine from you as you laid bare underneath him, only leaving your panties on.

“Of course I am, I need you so bad.” You confessed watching as he played with the Lacey material of your underwear in a teasing manner, loving the reaction you give him from doing so. Chan placed a kiss on your thigh before dragging your panties down and off your body, spreading your legs for you, he hummed at the sight of your glistening cunt presented to him.

“Fuck, what a pretty pussy you have.” He whispered, moving his thumb down to tease your clit causing you to jump a little from the sudden contact, his hands felt cold making you shiver as your legs almost closed. With his free hand he held one of your leg open, looking up at you, “keep your legs open.” It was more of a demand than a request. You listened, watching in awe as he came closer, wasting no time replacing his thumb with his mouth. “Fuck! Chan.” Mouth gaping open as Chan held you closer to his mouth.

Lapping up every bit of your arousal with a satisfied groan. Chan eyes pierced up at you during the process, watching the way your back arched, eyes rolled back, and mouth wide open releasing those beautiful moans he loves to hear.

You placed your hand into his hair gripping tightly making him groan from the impact and sending vibrations to your pussy. The feeling felt so unreal to you, your brain felt blank. “S-Shit Chan.” You whined, finally looking down to see him now with his eyes closed as he fucked you on his tongue. “Feels so good.”

You felt the knot in your stomach causing you to whine more, Chan never faltering as he gripped your thighs tight, determined for you to cum on his tongue. “M’gonna cum!” You warned mouth going slack as Chan entered two of his fingers inside of you, bringing you closer to your release and lips attached to your sensitive bud.

You screamed his name while Chan watched your body washed over with pleasure, back arched off the bed and beautiful cries leaving your lips trying to calm down. He pulled away from you completely, lips and chin glistening with your arousal. He looked good.

Chan stood at the foot of your bed, teasingly taking off his belt. You watched with shaky deep breaths, waiting so patiently that he smiled. Tugging his pants down, you were met with the sight of his black boxers doing a poor job at hiding his bulge. Chan watched you crawl closer towards him, having a mind of your own you reached out for him. Helping him take off the last layer of clothing for him. Chan hissed at the feeling of his cock finally being released and met with the cold air from your room.

Your mouth was practically drooling and your eyes wide with fascination. You knew he was big, your dirty mind always reminded you every time you see this man, but you weren’t expecting him to be this big. It honestly scared you, but in a good way.

“You’re just going to stare bunny, or help me out.” Chan tilted his head staring down at you with so much desire in his eyes. You muttered a small yes before wrapping your small hand around his cock causing him to immediately moan.

You pumped him a few times, feeling how heavy he feels in your hand before wrapping your pretty lips around his pink tip. Chan watched you closely as you tried your best to take him at least half way, the way your eyes looked so innocent, but your actions clearly was the opposite of innocent, had Chan eager. “Fuck, look at you…need help hmm?” He smirked, already gripping the back of your neck while you laid flat on your stomach on the bed, for more comfort.

Mouth still full of him as he eased his way down your throat. Chan had to hold back from going too fast, afraid you’ll get hurt, but the small rub on his thighs and a quick communication with your eyes— all carefulness went out the window.

“You’re fucking irresistible you know that.” Not holding back his moans as his hips snapped with each thrust in your mouth, “mouth feels- fuck, s-so good.” You were getting turned on even more hearing the sounds he was making. The whimpers and moans that left his lips, the wet sound of his balls slapping on your chin with each thrust made you go insane.

Strings of cuss words left his mouth from intense pleasure. The whole scene was messy, something you both enjoyed. Drool and spit coating his cock, dripping down your chin, and tears welling in your eyes.

Chan felt his stomach cave in, abs flexing as he look back down at you. “You look so pretty like this bunny, your mouth was ah! made for me.” Chan felt so close that he had to pull away from you. Feeling oxygen come back, you coughed up spit trying to calm your breathing, pretty eyes looking up at him. He couldn’t help it but lean down and kiss you with so much passion, not caring about the drool coating your chin and lips.

“Need you to fuck me chan.” You said in between the kiss, growing more needy by the minute. Chan was quick to manhandle you in the position he wanted you in. Legs pushed all the way up, his hands resting on the back of your thighs to keep them there. Cock resting on your stomach, “look how deep I’m gonna be.” Chan would never admit out loud that he has a size kink, but the way you glanced down to see what he was talking about, pretty eyes going wide— had his mind spinning. “Fuck wait— it’s not going to fit.” You looked so scared that Chan had to clam you down with kisses. “I promise I’ll go slow, ok?”

You shake your head yes, eyes still looking down between the two of you. “Bunny,” finally looking up at him into his eyes, a silent communication letting you know he got you. Leaning his body in half way he distracted you with more kisses—honestly he couldn’t get enough of your lips.

“Chan!” You gasped as you parted away from his lips, feeling him slowly entering inside of you. Only the tip and you somehow felt full. Eyebrows knitted, a surprised yelp leaving your lips, staring deep into your eyes he shook his head, “I know bunny, I know.” Chan was trying to control himself, he was only half way in— the urge to snap his hips and fill you up in one go was tempting.

Chan hissed at the feeling of you sucking him in, your walls felt like heaven to him and it only made his desires fuel even more. He halt his movement to let you adjust, taking small breaths before signaling him to continue. Each painful push soon turned into pleasure, but what scared you was that he was only half way in. “F-Fuck you’re tight.” Chan groaned, eyes almost rolled to the back of his head, hips finally meeting your thighs as he was now fully inside of you.

Immediately kissing your cervix, you let out a shaky moan from feeling him deep inside you, “mhm faster Chan, please.” Your voice sounded so angelic to him that he gave you what you wanted without hesitation. “Sound so pretty,” Chan’s hips moving with such smoothness in a fast pace, skin slapping and y’all moans mixed together, “Making me feel- oh fuck! So good.” Chan let out the most pornographic moan as he gripped your thighs tighter, pushing them until your pussy was in perfect view.

Chan took one glance seeing how you wrapped around his cock with each thrust, the mixture of yours and his cum forming a ring at the base of his cock and abdomen made his body shiver. “your— fucking me so good.” You gasped, feeling Chan roll his hips feeding you deep strokes, glancing up at him, you can truly say he looked so fucking good.

His hair sticking to his forehead, eyes dazed, muscles flexing, and lips letting out the most toe curling words and moans to you. He was perfect. “Love it baby, love you so much.” He mumbled looking down at you, loving the feeling and wishing it never end.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him down for a kiss, his hips never faltering during the process. Missionary felt so intimate, eyes filled with lust but so much love, staring into one another had both of you feeling weak. It was like this moment was bound to happened and you and him were loving every moment of it.

He made you forget everything, the party, your now ex friend that you wish you could’ve at least slapped before you left— everything except for Chan. And he made sure you didn’t, with each thrust he was soon close to his breaking point, “Chan…I-im ffuckk— im close.” You warned, feeling him lock his hands with yours on the bed and his hips flattering slightly.

“Me too baby, me too.” He let out the loudest moans as he chased his high, the clapping sounds of skin and so much mixture of yours and his cum dripping from your cunt to your bed was such a unholy sight, but it felt so good. “Ffuckk baby, fuckfuckfuck, I need to fill you up, be a good bunny for me and let me fill you up.” He used his free hand to rub fast circles on your puffy clit causing you to yelp.

Gulping down on your saliva, you nod your head, “fill me up please.” How could you say no when he moaned and whimpered so beautifully, it honestly made the knot in your stomach snap as you finally reached your climax, along with Chan painting your walls with his white thick cum. You shivered at the feeling, chest puffing up and down.

Chan let go of your hand before leaning back, holding your hips to keep you still. “D-don’t move..still so much.” He said shyly, biting his lips while closing his eyes. Registering on what he just said you leaned up on your elbows to get a look only to be met with such a sticky mess. “Oh.” Was all you could say, he rubbed your tummy and finally pulled out slowly hissing along the way before watching a lot of his cum leave your pussy.

“God— let me go get a rag before I fuck you again.” Chan got up off the bed smiling from hearing your small laughter, trying to shy away by using a pillow to cover your face.

Only a minute passed and Chan was back with a rag in hand. “Open.” He softly command, you hummed softly doing so and relaxed at the feeling of the warm rag on your skin. Your eyes wanting to close, but you tried your best to keep them open.

“Chan..” he hummed softly, focusing on cleaning you up, but made sure you knew he was listening. “What does this make us— I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.” You asked softly, heart throbbing at the feeling of him taking care of you.

“I’m your boyfriend who loves you.” He said seriously, finally looking at you with loving eyes and a smile gracing his face. “And you’re my loving girlfriend that loves me.” He teased earning a smile from you.

You both fell into a comfortable silence afterwards. Once Chan finished cleaning you up he carried you into your guest bedroom so you could sleep, since the sheets on your bed would be too uncomfortable to sleep on for obvious reasons.

He got in the bed after you tugging your body closer, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“Good night bunny.”

“Good night Chan.”

bonus! :

♫ Brandy and Monica • The Boy Is Mine

♡︎ 18.8k 💬 9.8k

Y/NTHEDOLL : The boy is mine 💕

COMMENTS:

MINIVERSE.___ : bout damn time

RANDOMUSER : y’all are soo cute

YONG.LIXX : I took the first pic

I.2.N.8 : not you third wheeling 😭

LEEKNOWW : @/theemina wish that was you..

Y/NTHEDOLL : OMG MINHO STOP

_DOOLSETNET : @/hynjinnnn I called it

HYNJINNNN : I did too

GNABNAHC : I love you

Y/NTHEDOLL : I love you more

JUTDWAE : get a room pls and thank you.

CNABNAHC : you hatin? 🤨

Y/NTHEDOLL : yall not finna start this in my comments

Hope y’all enjoyed :)

greed | by design chapter three

pairing: hyunjin x reader ; chan x reader | wc: 30k | genre: adult romance | warnings: heavy angst ; mutual pining/sexual tension ; dark ideation ; age gap ; hurt/comfort ; adult and sexual content. reader discretion is advised. this series contains heavy themes that could be upsetting to some. if you're concerned it might be an issue for you, please read the detailed list of warnings. this work is for adult audiences.

Hyunjin, unhurried, handsome, so tangible and so close, raised his hand then, bringing it near your face, gently pressing his index finger onto your cheek to collect a raindrop. His touch lit a wildfire inside of you that no deluge could put out. “It’s raining,” he said, his deep, expressive gaze fixated on the drop he had stolen from you, but not for long because he looked into your eyes then. “It’s okay,” he added with a smile, offering you his hand. “Come with me.”

Greed is, perhaps, among the most complicated concepts of the human psyche, mostly because it can take so many forms that one is often completely unaware it has woven itself into their heart. It camouflages itself as something else—sometimes, even, as something noble, like concern. 

One time, when you were nine years old, some girls in your class started some sort of unofficial hopscotch tournament. The prizes were nothing more than pretty rocks found on the beach or cheap chapsticks that were supposed to smell and taste like fruit but smelled and tasted like anything but fruit. There was also a fake, dollar store pearl necklace. A small dalmatian plush toy. An old Tamagotchi. Stuff like that. Everyone brought something from home. 

Long story short—you were very good at hopscotch. You quickly climbed your way to one of the two finalist spots in the tournament, but unfortunately twisted your ankle at the end of recess. It was nothing. It didn’t even hurt by the end of the day. 

The next day, though, the girls prevented you from participating in the tournament because they didn’t want you to get hurt. Insisting did nothing. Part of you knew these girls didn’t want to get in trouble because exchanging items like that was not allowed at school, and if you got hurt for real, you’d need to see the nurse and it would risk exposing the whole thing.

Part of you knew you were better than them at hopscotch. You didn’t even want any of their trinkets. Well, maybe except for the Tamagotchi. But still. You just wanted to play and make new friends. Back then, your father often told you that Christopher was a good boy but that you should hang out with girls more instead of spending your weekends looking for frogs under rocks with him.

You were too young to understand the entirety of the situation then. It was only later that you were able to see it as a whole. You were only nine years old but your father was witnessing you growing older and approaching that frightening moment in a young girl’s life—puberty. And maybe he figured it wouldn’t be long before Christopher would drag you into the forest for purposes other than frog hunting and he didn’t like that. 

The girls had been children, just like you were. Maybe Monica wanted Lexi’s plastic diamond ring. Maybe Stef wanted, badly, the little Sailor Moon figurine you brought to add to the prize list. If she had asked you would have given it to her. 

But asking. Asking was one of the most difficult things anyone had to do in the course of their life. Because it exposed them. It bared them, displaying their want, their desire, displaying what they lacked. What was missing from them. It showed the world how greedy they were, and there was real shame in that—unwarranted, but it was still there, and very real. So of course Stef wasn’t going to just ask for it. In this world, we all strive to look like we don’t care. About anything. Ever. It’s easier to live this way, to hide ourselves under several layers of nonchalance—because it makes sure we don’t have to make ourselves vulnerable to others.

Greed took so many forms. Envy and jealousy were symptoms of greed, manifestations of it. So was longing, or selfishness. You had reached a point in your life where you wondered if all those words, all those emotions, perhaps, were just synonyms. Maybe they all meant the same thing. 

You were not above it. You had been greedy, too. You couldn’t tell for sure but maybe you had always known you would never be good enough for Chris, yet you had let him love you nonetheless. You let him kiss you, then you let him confess his love and let it grow into something so big, so rooted into him that some parts of himself became parts of you and vice versa. Then you let him marry you. And then you let him put a baby inside you. 

You had been greedy when, all those years before, you had let Liam fuck you just because you wanted to feel something. Anything. Just because you thought it would be your only opportunity in life to feel desired and wanted, as shallow as it might have been. You had been greedy when you found out you were pregnant and that your first thought had been that you, for sure, could not keep this baby because it was going to wreck your entire life. 

Judith was your punishment for it all. Not her, but her loss, which was just as heavy and tangible. The jealousy you had felt when Chris would hang out with girls. How selfish it had been to let Liam touch you and then fuck you even though you did not want him. Because maybe you did it to see if it would get a reaction out of Chris. 

It felt as though you could not be that anymore—greedy. Because it required some stamina. It demanded some life, some… something. Anything. And you had been stripped of all of it. You remembered the last greed that haunted you for a long time, and perhaps the ghost of it still did. 

You wouldn’t have been able to tell this to anybody, but you had been greedy to let Chris stay. To hope that he would love you again. And you were ashamed. It had been greedy at first and now it was just… cowardly. Which might just have been another version of greed anyway. 

It took too many forms to compile them all, which, you felt, made it the most insidious feeling of them all.

Insidious because you had genuinely believed all this time that you had gotten rid of it. That your heart was dead and would remain dead and that it meant you would never taste the sweetly bitter taste of greed on your tongue. It was true, it was an honest thought, but you had never believed it made you a better person than anybody else. It just made you an empty person.

And then one day, everything changed.

The morning after your conversation with Hyunjin, you went to sit outside to watch the sunrise. You refilled your water bottle and closed the shop, walking the short climb uphill for a better, unobstructed view. Most days, you did not mind the trees. If anything you found it quite beautiful. The way light filtered through them, reflected in hundreds of echoes of luminescence, scattered on the grounds or structures, caressing them, changing them. 

But that morning you were craving for something different. Something had changed within you and you weren’t sure what it was, you just knew it required action to make it real, to make it official. 

Maybe you had known all along. That aloneness might have been forced upon you—that you had been made alone and lonely and miserable, but that you would need to do something about it to test the bars of this prison, to challenge them. Not escape them, per se, because you did not believe you would ever not be alone. But, it turned out, no matter how unattainable you were, no matter how broken, somebody had visited that prison. And you were still alone, sure. But a different kind of it. 

So you walked. The sky was a dull gray when you set out, making your way on the dirt road leading to the gate and the main road. There was nothing else in the area—nothing that could be seen anyway. Just a forest and a road and the sound of the river flowing downhill. On some days, the iodine breeze, coming from the shore, made it all the way here, blending with the other scents. The evergreens, the decaying pine needles on the ground, the damp riverbank. Together, they became something else. Still very much distinct—nobody could mistake the smell of the ocean for the smell of trees—yet changed by one another. 

It gave you something to think about.

That day was one of those days. Saltiness permeated in the air along with the rest of it. The morning dew on the grass, rendering it cold and slippery. The trees releasing their pollen. Flowers growing in patches at random places. You walked unhurriedly, knowing you had plenty of time, listening to the forest waking up around you. Finches and chickadees flew over you, crossing the narrow dirt road to get from one tree to another, searching for food or a mate or perhaps both. As you progressed, the trees became more sparse, allowing you to see the river.

It was wide here, and the water was always calm in that spot, making it look like a lake. You had seen it all your life and yet it fascinated you still to this day. Once, when you were little, you had gathered all your courage to ask your parents why they called it a river when it didn’t look like one. Your mother explained that it was a river and just that. That day, your mother found an old school book of hers. You wouldn’t have been more than five or six years old, small enough that every aspect of the world seemed grand to you. It was your mother who taught you that lakes became rivers—that they were the same body of water. She used the poetic approach with you, adding that rivers, even the smallest ones, would ultimately spill into the sea and that it meant everything was somehow connected. She said the place where the river curved and became wide and calm was not really a lake, just a river taking a break before continuing its journey to the estuary and the ocean. 

You thought of your mother that morning when you slowed down to take in the sight of the river taking a break, becoming something else while remaining exactly what it was—a river. Just that. 

You heard the common loons before you saw them. Stretching your neck as you walked uphill, trying to see anything as the dawn was still shy and the world still quite dark. Dark but not opaque like night—dim but see-through. Gossamer. Your mother had taught you that word when she showed you her mother’s wedding veil, made of delicate tulle and lace. Your mother had taught you many things but she wasn’t done schooling you when she died. 

You wish she were still alive because things were weighing on your heart that only a mother would be able to untangle. She would have been the only person to truly understand how it felt when Judith died. And all that it entailed. 

The common loon’s haunting call filled the air, loud and quiet at once, occupying as much space outside as it did inside you. You kept walking, knowing their voices would follow you. When you reached the top of the hill, you went to sit past the trees, on one of the big flat rocks that had been put on the edge of the river to stop people from descending into it. It was enticing after all, this place where the river rested before it became something stronger, but it was treacherous as the undercurrents were quite strong here. 

But the ducks did not mind the undercurrents this morning. You watched them as the sun slowly rose on the horizon, breaking through the forest on the other side of the river. It was a pair. Two adults and their two chicks. It had been your father who told you that common loons mated for life, which meant the same pair would reunite in their chosen place to nest, mate, and raise their young. And when the time to migrate would come, they would go their separate ways more often than not but still reunite come spring.

Since that day, you had nothing but admiration for them. How much faith did one need to have to leave the partner you had known all your life and the place where you had raised maybe dozens of chicks, only to hope that you would see them again when winter ended? 

But what happens if one gets lost? you had asked your father. And he told you that common loons would only pair with another if their mate passed away. Last year, your father attended a high school reunion. Long story short, he reconnected with an old friend—Marcy. Marcy and he had briefly dated when they were teens, and it looked like she would have been down to relive the experience. You understood that he did not want to betray your mother, but sometimes, you feared for him, because he could not move on. 

You reminded him of the common loons one day, thinking it was a solid argument as to why he should call Marcy back. And then you were faced with a truth so ugly and so terrible that you had buried it somewhere deep within you—you had discovered the difference between could not move on and would not move on. Your father would not move on. By choice. Maybe, like you, he refused to let greed permeate him, and chose misery instead. 

The ducks swam gently on the water, the parents feeding their chicks with whatever they found under the surface. You wondered if they were the same two common loons that you had seen for the past several years. Or if one had been lost and the other had moved on. If it were the case, you wondered if they remembered their old mate. If they missed them. 

You wished your mother were here. Right now. Sitting next to you, watching the ducks and the sun as it rose in the sky. 

You would tell her about Hyunjin. 

You would tell her about his paintings. About the kindness with which he treated you—you, a complete stranger. You would tell her he didn’t feel like a stranger the way other people did. Others were strangers in the sense that there was distance between you and them, and perhaps even a wall of sorts. Hyunjin was a stranger but it was not a wall that separated the two of you—it was a door. And he had opened it last night, politely but decidedly. 

You would tell your mother you had never spoken with someone as direct and as honest as him, and that it made you want to be more like him. Because you liked being treated like that. You would tell her he did not hesitate to make space for you, to share weed and liquor with you. You would tell her about the charcoal sketches he showed you.

There was no one else in the world you could possibly tell these things. That you had forgotten what happiness felt like the way expats forget their home country—they remember it like one remembers a movie instead of their past. 

You would tell your mother that Hyunjin was the closest thing to a genuine memory of happiness that you had felt since that awful day when they put your daughter’s dead body in your arms. 

You would tell your mother that you did not want to let him be more than that. That it had already been too much. That each smile was a betrayal to Judith. 

Every flutter of your heart was a betrayal to Chris. 

It could not be stopped—something about last night’s encounter had reignited your heart. And you felt it this morning. It seemed like a frequency emanated from it, steady, echoing the sun rays or perhaps bird song. 

Greed.

Complicated. Intricate. Unavoidable. 

You wanted it all. You wanted to respect your daughter’s memory. Also, you wanted to respect your marriage to Christopher because you had loved him all your life. Also, you wanted to feel something other than the crushing weight on your heart—in other words, you wanted to let Hyunjin soothe some of that pain, let him hold some of that burden for you. 

But you couldn’t have it all, could you? 

You stared at the horizon before you, making sure to notice the beauty in it. But all that you could see was the way Hyunjin looked a lot like the place where a river could come to rest before it started again, only to become something stronger. Grander. 

You had never been one to believe in fate before—there had been no need for it in your life. Not really. 

It had been so long since anything made sense. Harmony had ceased to exist the moment Judith’s heart failed. 

But before her, there had been a painting for which you developed a liking, a fascination. The fascination extended to its creator. The painting depicted loss—the same loss that would be forced upon you years after you discovered it. Maybe you loved it even more after. You certainly understood it better. Unfortunately. 

It had not been a comfort, not really—Loss, the painting, was more like an anchor to you. Something that you could look at and remember that you were not dreaming. That even though it felt like it, you were not trapped in a nightmare. You needed to be reminded of that sometimes, or else you started to hope you would wake up soon. 

Out of all the camping grounds in the world, it was at yours that Naro’s direct descendant ended up. And the colors of Hyunjin’s soul were familiar to you—so was the damage in it. 

And so, it made sense. Somehow. That it was all related. For so long, the pieces of the puzzle had been floating in chaos. And now, one by one, they were finding their place within one another, showing you little by little the illustration their whole would become. 

And you did not know what it would become. 

But today, for the first time in a long while, you wondered what it would all amount to. With genuine curiosity. Today, you wanted to see what the pieces of the puzzle might reveal—if they revealed anything in the first place. Chances were that the image would be abstract or blurred or maybe something terrible. 

However, you still wanted to know. And if that wasn’t the manifestation of whatever changes had occurred within you, then what was it?

You left the shop in Allie’s hands after staying with her a little longer than you needed to, but the cause was noble—you helped her set everything up for the opening, and then you stayed even as the first clients came by. It was almost always the same kind of clients who were here this early into the day. You had the smokers who wanted to make sure they wouldn’t run out of cigarettes with their coffee. You had those who would go fishing and needed bait. You had parents who absolutely needed milk or juice for the kids. Then you had what you called the true vacationers—they were up at sunrise just because. For no other reason than they might as well stay up if they got awoken by a bird nearby or something. They had no worries at all, and often felt like taking a little walk around—they stopped at the shop to get a coffee or a bottle of water, or just to have a conversation with another human being. 

Allie was just the right person to work the mornings. A widow in her 50s, she applied for the job last year, admitting that she craved human connection and wanted an opportunity to find it in a place like Riverside Campground. Neither you nor Chris had any hesitation in hiring her. 

“I think you’re all good here,” you told Allie after doing a last checkup of the self-serve coffee machines. 

“You go sleep now, stop making excuses not to,” Allie retorted with a playful smile. The smile faded a little and her eyes took an inquisitive look. “Are you alright?” 

The tone with which she asked the question shook you, as though you knew it meant much more than just how are you.

“Yes I’m alright, what is it?” you responded with that rehearsed voice and that rehearsed smile that you hated so much.

From behind the cash register, Allie tilted her head slightly, observing you. A group of four, all of them in fishing gear, was approaching. You could hear their voices through the windows. They sounded excited. 

“Nothing,” Allie replied. Then she immediately added, “I don’t know, you seem a little different.”

Part of you wanted to run away from this place—and this conversation—as quickly as possible. You were not the kind of person who talked about these things, certainly not with your employees. Not because you didn’t like them but precisely because you did. You wanted to pretend that you were whole. You didn’t want them to know they worked for a wreck of a human being. Out of concern for them. Out of shame and guilt. Out of greed, perhaps. 

The few seconds it took for you to come up with an appropriate and believable response were more than enough for Allie to understand that whatever you were about to say would not be the truth.

“I’m not used to working overnight,” you said anyway. A lame attempt, but an attempt nonetheless. 

“That’s not really what I meant,” she told you. “I meant different in a less melancholic way.”

You stood near the coffee machines, your eyes fixated on the woman behind the counter, frozen in shock. Panic took over you—you had never told Allie about Judith, not directly. But the older employees, or your father, or Christopher’s parents, would sometimes talk about it, and word usually got around. The team was very sensible about this and never really brought it up. Allie had talked to you about it last year. Because she was a mom, too, and only a mother would understand this loss. She said you reminded her a little bit of her daughter. She hugged you that day, but never talked about it again.

Case in point—Allie knew about it all. She knew about the gaping wound in your chest. 

Today, right now, Allie had become the first witness of your betrayal to your daughter. And you did not know what to do about it. 

“It’s a good thing,” Allie added, her smile returning to her lips. She shook her head and pushed a strand of graying hair behind her ear. “Remember what I told you last fall?” 

Yes, you remembered. It was something that had been told to you before, in passing, in less direct words. It happened last year on the last day of the season—much like opening day, the camping ground organized a big party to end the season. Bonfires, music, barbecue, drinks of all kinds. Allie wasn’t even scheduled that day but she came anyway and sat with you by a bonfire while you were making for her your famous ‘fire apple’, which was an apple coated in butter and brown sugar, slow-roasted over flames. Few words had been said, except Allie had told you, “You’re allowed to be happy, you know?” And when that hadn’t gotten her a response, she added, “Or at least, you’re allowed to be something other than sad.” 

You did not think it was true. The others didn’t know. They didn’t know about what had happened when you were seventeen. The baby that you had been too scared to keep. So it made sense that they couldn’t comprehend the entire situation—they simply did not know that you had failed so many times. That life was punishing you for what you had done. For the thoughts you had. The doubts you had—how you had not been sure that you wanted to have a baby with Chris.

That you had wanted to want it. 

There were no doubts, however, about the very real love you had for your unborn daughter. From the moment you knew she existed within you. That love became unconditional. That love became an integral part of you. But maybe none of it mattered, not if you had been secretly wishing that it would take a long time for you to become pregnant.

Was there a word for wishful thinking, but in a negative context? 

Just a manifestation of your deepest, darkest thoughts, perhaps? 

Whatever it had been. It was all your fault. 

“I remember,” you told Allie with a nod. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.” You didn’t really mean that and you could only hope she hadn’t noticed. “Have a nice day, Allie.” 

And she wished you a good day in return, urging you, again, to go home and sleep. 

You grabbed your things and made your way toward the employee parking lot where you immediately saw that Chris’ truck was there already. You sat behind the wheel of your car, pondering over Minho’s breakfast offer. He sounded like he meant it when he invited you, and the truth was you kind of wanted to go. But another, worse truth was also lingering in your chest—you needed time to process all those thoughts crowding your mind. 

You needed time to get used to the bitter, unpleasant taste of shame on your tongue, and no amount of bacon or orange juice would help with that. How much time? It was hard to tell, and maybe you’d never actually get used to it. Maybe you’d just be forced to live with it. The same way the rest had been thrown at you against your will. 

The same way aloneness was forced upon you.

You dreamt.

The dream was fuzzy, neither good nor bad. A nightmare but not really. It was hard to call a dream a nightmare when it was just a copy of your life. It would be like admitting to something terrible, something that should remain secret, unspoken. 

But you dreamt of a city you didn’t know, a metropolis, walking in its crowded streets, everything around you a blur. In this dream, you were making your way to the cemetery where Judith had been buried, only, you were lost. And you couldn’t at all figure out where to go. You asked faceless passersby for directions but they did not see you, or pretended not to. Only, you were not scared. You were unhappy and upset but this was no different than your usual. 

I want to see my baby, you kept telling these strangers. Tell me where to go, please.

But they said nothing at all, and somewhere in your heart, you knew it was because there was nothing to see in the place where your daughter’s name was engraved onto a pretty crescent moon-shaped tombstone. No amount of tears that you would cry into the soil that covered Judith would ever bring her back, nor would it change anything. 

In this dream, you kept walking in the city you did not know, stopping in front of a building, a shop of sorts, with a large window at the front. There was something displayed in the window—a painting, almost as large as the glass that separated you from the canvas. This painting did not exist in reality yet you recognized it as a self-portrait. It showed a young man sitting in front of an easel, painting a lake. His face was mostly hidden behind his dark brown hair. Black but not quite. You stared at the painting for a long time. It seemed like the lake inside of it was almost too lifelike, as though the man was bringing it into existence just so he could drown in it.

And then you woke up.

The house was quiet. Quiet in a way a house was quiet nowadays—so not really. The steady humming of appliances in the kitchen did very little to cover the noises coming from outside. Cars. Their engines, the tires on the pavement. It was a small street and there weren’t too many cars passing by, but when there were, you heard them. 

Your neighbors too. You heard them. On the left of your house was an empty lot but on the right was a couple in their 70s. Lovely people. They had a few children who were no longer children because they had children themselves. Many parties and barbecues occurred over the summers with everyone in this beautiful family reunited. They weren’t too loud and it’s not like the parties went on until impossible hours. Truth be told, you were so busy during the summer that it didn’t bother you. 

It’s just that you heard them. Cassie and John, and the cars, and the children on their bicycles. And while you were aware that hearing anything at all was a privilege and should not be taken for granted, you couldn’t help but wish that you didn’t, sometimes. 

This—all of this—just reminded you that life went on for everyone else except you. You were stuck somewhere in the past or perhaps in many places. In a mall in the next city over. In a hospital room. And yet nowhere at all. Maybe somewhere under the river, buried, forgotten. 

You rolled into your bed, lying on your side, facing the space where Christopher should be. Would have been if you were anything other than… this. You touched it. The mattress, the sheets. You pressed your face onto his pillow, inhaling his scent. It was just strong enough that you knew for sure he had slept here last night, sometime before you came home. At least he had been alone, because your pillow smelled like you and not like Summer. 

It was with your head on your husband’s pillow that you remembered your dream. You rarely dreamt and when you did, the memory of it didn’t usually follow you into the real world. But it did today, images from it lingering behind your eyelids, playing like scenes out of a silent movie. A city. You, just walking. A man and a lake. A shop.

You opened your eyes again, realizing that you were having an idea. A dangerous one. Frankly, a stupid idea. And you really shouldn’t listen to it. You should forget that dream and the reasons it haunted your mind, but instead you pushed yourself up and made your way to the bathroom for a shower, telling yourself that whatever was occurring in your head was more like being colonized by thoughts rather than having them sprout within your mind. You took your time, more than you ought to. You shampooed your hair twice. You conditioned it mindfully. You washed your body carefully, the way you would if you loved it. Pretending that you loved it and that it was not a graveyard. You rinsed everything off. You applied lotion. 

It didn’t take a lot of time before the smell of coffee invaded the first floor—you let the coffee machine brew your cup while you returned upstairs to put some clothes on, scrolling your phone to find an address. You had been to that shop before but it was a few towns over and you just wanted to make sure. 

It was greedy. What you were about to do. It looked like a generous thing—to an outsider and perhaps even to yourself if you were less self-aware, it would appear as an act of kindness. And it was. But it was so many other things too—things too frightening to even think about. 

So instead of thinking about them, you put on some comfortable clothes, poured your coffee in your favorite travel mug—it had a funny frog on it—and left your home only to get in your car and drive away. The whole time, you wondered what it meant. That you were going where you were going and doing what you were about to do. You wondered if it was as significant as it seemed to be to you. 

You wondered why your heart was fighting so damn hard to stay alive—to keep beating, to keep feeling, when you had wished for the exact opposite for so long. All this time you thought you had some semblance of control over it all. You thought you had some anchor somewhere, something keeping you where you needed to be, which was to say, as far away from happiness as you could be. 

But that day, you drove the hour it took to get to a small art supplies store, run by a lady who liked to visit the camping every other year or so. It was so tiny it was difficult to imagine the shop could hold much and yet you knew that any artist could find what they wanted here, and more. It was a sunny day but the shop was cool because the lady installed air conditioning two years back. 

She recognized you from behind the counter, calling you by your first name, which she remembered, and offering you a kind smile. The wall behind her was covered in shelves that were covered in so many things. Canvases. Paintbrushes. Archival grade glue. Wax, pencils, ink. 

You had no control over the smile you offered her in return. 

“What can I do for you today, young lady?” She always called you that but you did not feel young anymore. “Are you planning another art workshop for the camping ground?” 

You always planned an art workshop at the camping ground, most often for kids, but sometimes one for teens and adults, too. But there was rarely much of a crowd on those, as though grown-ups were too intimidated, whereas children felt no pressure to perform. They came, they spread colors on a canvas and they were content with just that. It was more complicated for adults. They thought they had to be good. They thought they had to know how to paint. But nobody in the world needed to be good at what they did for the first time. Or for the hundredth time. The truth that adults seem to forget, intentionally or not, is that you can keep trying and doing things even if you suck at them. 

“Yes, but that’s not why I’m here today,” you replied, scanning the wall behind her and then the other shelves around you, searching for what you were looking for. “I would like to buy your best, fanciest watercolor paints, please. And aquarelle paper and brushes obviously. The whole kit someone of high skill would need to paint.” 

Those words released a tangible taste on your tongue. Something sweet. It reminded you of honey with the way it coated the inside of your mouth and went down your throat as you attempted to swallow it down. It didn’t get stuck in your throat. It just existed within you. 

You had never really been good at any of it. Making friends, talking to people. Being happy. 

Healing. 

But it didn’t mean you should stop trying even though you sucked at it, right?

It was mid-afternoon by the time you made it back home. You would have been expected over at Riverside some time ago but you also knew that nobody would actually care enough to text you, not unless the campground was short-staffed. Or on fire. And you had been extra careful, checking the schedules twice, making sure that nobody had called off. 

You weren’t Chris, so it meant they wouldn’t notice you weren’t there unless somebody needed something specific from you. Or if they couldn’t find Chris, for one reason or another. 

There was something comforting in that. Invisibility. It felt like your own little superpower—to have the ability to disappear from people’s minds. You left no trace where you went. You were polite and kind and understanding, and yet so forgettable. You were not fun or special the way Christopher was. Christopher stayed in people’s minds long after he had parted from them.

You, on the other hand, did not. 

Which is why you drove back home instead of going straight to Riverside Campground as you initially planned. The thought had occurred to you about halfway through the ride—that Hyunjin had probably forgotten you. 

Nothing about you was substantial enough to leave any mark on people. While it could be comforting, it was not an easy thing to accept and it would have been a lie to say you were one hundred percent okay with it, but you were also aware of the situation and knew better than to keep any sort of hope. Like the hope that you existed somewhere in Hyunjin’s mind even today, several hours after your private moment with him.

What a humbling experience it was. Because you couldn’t get him out of your mind. You thought of his paintings and the way he used color or the way light hit some of his pieces, giving life to them through his agile impasto technique, adding depth with the shadows it left behind. And that made you wonder if there could be beauty buried somewhere within you, should you be seen under the right kind of light. That led you to wonder what kind of light would ever be the right one for such a miracle to happen. 

So you went home, unnoticed, leaving the brown paper bag containing the art supplies on the kitchen table and immediately making your way upstairs. You had showered earlier but you needed to be under the water again, perhaps to wash away some of the things lingering within your skull. You shouldn’t even be thinking of him at all. Hyunjin. It was cool that he was related to Naro but it was another thing to remember fondly the way his lips moved when he spoke. The exact shape of them as he said certain words, like alone, or love. Or when he said your name.

You shouldn’t be remembering the words he said to you because he must have said them to be kind after you forced your secret upon him. When he said that your soul had many colors in it, or that he hoped he would see you again for drinks.

You shouldn’t be remembering the way it felt when he hugged you, holding you in his arms for a brief instant. He was strong but he held you delicately, almost like he was afraid to break you. Couldn’t he see that you were beyond that already? Crushed? Destroyed?

Distracted would have been another good word to describe you as you returned to your bedroom, wrapped in a towel, to find some clothes. You asked the smart speaker for information on the weather to help you figure out your outfit and settled for a sundress, as the day would get warmer around the sunset, and cooler overnight. 

You got dressed. The whole time, you wondered if perhaps you ought to use wrapping paper for the art supplies, or maybe just slap a colorful bow on the bag. But then it would seem like a gift and not just an apology for not keeping the right kind of paint at the general store. However, it really was a gift, because no fucking camping ground sold high-end art supplies at their shop. They were lucky if they had a shop at all. Nobody in their right mind should have expected to find such art supplies in the same shop where they bought live worms for fishing trips. Or tarps. Or toys to play in the sand.

It was just a way for you to say thank you. Something had changed within you thanks to him, and because he had forgotten you didn’t mean you shouldn’t be grateful. He had shown you an exclusive sketch by Naro himself, and that alone meant more than he could even realize. 

You were thinking of Hyunjin’s hands as you went down the staircase, remembering it from videos seen online where he was painting, and it was all that you could see—his hand, the paintbrush he held, and the canvas on which he applied colors. He held the brush in a very particular way. His fingers were long and graceful, and his brushstrokes were just as elegant, perfectly balanced. Strong when they needed to be and delicate when it was required. The videos he posted were pretty short but you could watch him for hours, truly. There was something fascinating about the way he painted. As though he painted like one danced, or played the violin. Like it was his soul the paintbrush was spreading onto the canvas, not paint.

But you shouldn’t be thinking about any of that. At least not in the way you were. 

Which is why you almost collapsed from shock when you heard a voice coming from the kitchen.

“What’s that?” 

Chris. 

Your first reflex was to look through the front window to verify that you weren’t hallucinating. You gulped when you saw that his pick-up truck was indeed parked right next to yours. He must have come in when you were in the shower.

After taking a deep breath, you made your way to the kitchen only to find Chris holding the paper bag and inspecting its contents. Your heart dropped before it entered a frenzied race—your pulse quickened so much you could feel it through your ribcage. In fact, you feared he would hear it from where he stood.

You figured it wouldn’t feel much different if he had caught you straight-up cheating. With a cock in your mouth and all.

It was difficult to read Chris, today especially. You had no idea why he was here as it was past his lunch break and he usually avoided you unless he really couldn’t. His shoulders and neck were stiff as though he was nervous and it made you wonder if something had gone wrong back at the campground. 

Then Chris proceeded to grab one of the items from the bag to look at it under the light spilling from the nearest window. A slight frown appeared on his already tense face. “You picked up painting?” He looked at you in a way that hinted he was trying to be nice about it, but after knowing each other for so long—and after many lost games of Pictionary—he knew you did not have the capacity to sketch even the simplest of objects. 

You ran your tongue on your lips. Your mouth was very dry all of a sudden, enough that it felt a little like your trachea was closing in on itself. You cleared your throat to rid yourself of the lump getting stuck in it, which was shame-shaped. 

The mere fact that you wanted to lie to Chris about this excessively minor event said a lot about the entire situation. In this instant, a vast sadness overcame you. As though you were realizing something that had been under your nose all this time. Only, your brain wasn’t letting you access the entirety of the revelation. 

All that you knew was that despite how seemingly inconsequential this was—meeting Hyunjin—it had shifted things within you, things you previously thought were cemented to your bones.

You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself so you could be brave and not lie to your husband. Because there was nothing to lie about. “It’s for Hyunjin. He traveled with art supplies and the airport lost his bag.”

A cloud passed in Christopher’s eyes but it was only temporary. You saw it but you pretended you didn’t—for your own sake. For his, too. It was barely anything anyway. The kind of cloud that covers the sky momentarily one afternoon and you wonder if it’s going to ruin your day or not, and in the end the blue returns and it doesn’t rain. And you realize there was never even a risk of precipitation.

Maybe, deep down, you were hoping Chris would be angry. Upset. Jealous. Because at least that would mean he still cared. That would mean there was still something to be upset about. After all, you were upset when you saw Summer wearing his hoodie. But he stood there in the kitchen with sunlight caressing his handsome face, on which an expression that was neither anger nor jealousy or even disappointment had appeared. 

“He paints?” Chris said, his voice steady and low, but clear as day. 

“He’s the guy who asked for watercolors yesterday, remember? Jeongin wanted to know if we sold any,” you reminded him, causing Chris to nod before he returned the tube of Phthalo Green to the paper bag.

“I remember.” He stretched his neck—Chris seemed less nervous, or maybe more of something else. It was difficult to tell. “That’s really nice of you.”

The worst part of knowing Chris had fallen out of love for you was that he was still your best friend. He was still the guy you grew up with, the one who would take you frog hunting, the person with whom you shared the most memories. But it was as though that best friend was buried underneath layers of dead soil and you no longer had access to him. Or maybe you did, only you didn’t know which tool to use for the excavation. Today, Christopher looked more than ever like an archeological miracle. Something perfectly preserved, but no longer active. Just remains. The skeleton of what once was. 

You couldn’t help it—you shared your enthusiasm with him anyway. It was greedy. Maybe you just wanted to get a reaction out of him. Something. Anything. “You know, Naro?”

Another nod. 

“Well, they’re related,” you explained. “Naro is his great-great-grandfather or something.” 

A strange smile painted itself on Christopher’s lips, this place that was once so, so familiar to you. “Wow,” was all he said, with a sigh he tried to conceal. 

Every second without a burst of anger was like another blade in your heart. 

“What a coincidence,” you chose to say. You did not know what to say, but you knew you had to say more. You knew it had to be you—it always had to be you. Who soothed the awkwardness of conversations. It was your ball and chain, your burden, your duty. “Are things okay at Riverside? I wouldn’t have expected you at this time of the day.” 

Chris went to the fridge to pour himself a glass of pineapple juice. You could tell it was out of nervousness—he needed to be moving because it was easier than standing there and looking you in the eyes. You couldn’t blame him. 

“Everything’s fine with the campground,” he replied, and he sounded a bit more like Chris then. He drank his juice and put the glass in the dishwasher, turning to you. “I came to see you.”

Your heart jumped but you immediately caught it, making sure to give it a good kick as a warning. Christopher was more than your husband—your lives had been intertwined for as long as you could remember. There was a plethora of reasons why he would have wanted to see you and the scenario in which he suddenly loved you again was the least possible of them all. 

Your words got lost somewhere between your brain and your lips, falling back into your throat as that lump that was still stuck there made breathing difficult. You gulped, staring at Chris as he made his way back to you, closer than he had been, studying you. “I worry about you,” he said under his breath. “When’s the last time you had a real meal?” 

This wasn’t new. There were times when you figured Chris possibly felt guilty about not loving you anymore so he overcompensated in other ways. You hated those thoughts. You hated that they lingered in your brain, no matter how hard you tried to push them away. You wouldn’t want him to know you felt that way. It was so ugly, so awful. 

“Did you eat breakfast?” he insisted. 

“I had coffee,” you recalled, realizing you couldn’t answer his first question. 

“You don’t look well. Sit down.” Gently, Chris nudged you towards the nearest chair. “Your dad called me. He’s worried, too.” With this, he proceeded to grab food from the fridge. By the look of it, he was making you a turkey sandwich. 

“Ah, I understand your surprise visit now,” you sighed. Honest to god, you did not mean for it to come out as caustic as it did. You really were an awful wife. When the hell was he going to divorce you, for fuck’s sake?

“I’m not here just because of him,” Christopher went on, carefully spreading spicy mayo on your favorite bread. “I’m here because I know you lied to Jake. I spoke to him. I don’t care that you lied to Jake to take the night shift,” he added, turning to you. “I just wish you didn’t feel like you had to lie to me about something as insignificant as that.” 

You felt so small then, in your sunlit kitchen, sitting with your hands on your knees. You felt small and stupid and ridiculous, even. Of course. 

“There would have been a time you would have just told me,” he kept going, still making that fucking sandwich. “So it made me worry.” 

Your fingernails sank into the skin of your thighs. You looked through the window—from your point of view, all you could see was the sky and the trees in the backyard, which were beautiful. You liked this house. You wished it had been a happy one. 

“I just wanted to be outside,” you admitted, and it was true. 

“I know.” And you knew he knew. He knew that you liked spending nights outside to put your thoughts back in order, or as close to orderly as they could be anyway. “You didn’t have to lie to me, you know?” His voice was soft but firm at the same time. “You never do.”

You buried your face into your hands. Chris was right. You fought the tears as best you could because you didn’t want him to see you like that. Next thing you knew, gentle fingers were wrapping themselves around your wrists, pulling your hands away. He was right there. Chris. He had lowered himself to look you in the eyes, and he didn’t do that often these days. You loved him in that moment, or maybe you loved the memory of what he used to be.

You did your best to memorize it all. The shape of his lips. The color of his eyes when the sun spilled into his irises. His scent. The feeling of his fingers on your skin. You didn’t want to forget any of it, no matter how painful. You never wanted to forget what it had felt like to be loved by him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your vision blurring. 

“Don’t.” A frown appeared between his brow, and he thumbed a stray tear away as it rolled down your cheek. “Just tell me if I need to call Dr. Carroll.” 

The therapist you saw from time to time, no more than once a year, mostly to appease your father. You had nothing against him. Dr. Carroll was an excellent psychotherapist, it’s just that it was a waste of time for you. Nothing would ever fix you. Nothing.

You flinched, understanding the implications of what Chris was saying.

“I’m not going to kill myself if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

It was him who recoiled this time—Chris physically pulled back a few inches, letting go of you. He hated it. He couldn’t stand it when you said those words out loud, but after having them haunt your mind for so long, you were familiar with them. Chris seemed to believe life was sacred. You believed that too, once. Maybe. Happiness had never found you easily but maybe you used to think something like that at least when Judith lived inside you. 

Any parent would tell you the same—if they lost their child, they wouldn’t want to keep going. Simple as that. 

But you went on. For some reason. And now you were here in this kitchen, with your husband staring at you like you were a horror movie, and maybe you were. 

“Don’t say that.” Chris stood, returning to his sandwich-making duties. “You know I hate it when you say that.” 

In some ways, you envied him. His sorrow was undeniable but presented itself so differently than yours. It was as though Chris had this urgency to live, and to live fully. Like doing otherwise would be a dishonor to Judith. You felt the complete opposite of that. It’s not that you wanted to die—it’s just that you didn’t know how to exist in a way that didn’t fill you with shame, so you were stuck somewhere between two worlds. 

“I know. I’m sorry,” you mumbled as Chris slid a plate in front of you. You stared at the sandwich like you had never seen a sandwich before, or like you had seen a million. 

“It’s alright.” Chris put his hand on your head and ruffled your hair a little. Gently. Kindly. Almost like he still loved you. “I’ll call your dad to tell him you’re fine.” The smell of his cologne blended with the scent of the outdoors that clung to him. He had been around someone who mowed a lawn and you knew what that meant. “I have maintenance tonight but wanna have dinner at Marlene’s tomorrow? Some of the staff will be going to celebrate the season.” 

He did that sometimes. When he pitied you. Or maybe it was for other, more complicated reasons. It didn’t matter—you fell for it almost every time. 

“Sure, why not?” You did love Marlene’s cooking, and it was always comforting at the campground restaurant. It had been renovated since but it reminded you of your childhood nonetheless—bonus if Chris was present. 

Chris nodded and proceeded to put the ingredients back into the fridge. He took his time but you knew it was just because he wanted to make sure you were actually eating the sandwich. It was good. He had used all the things you liked. You ate it while staring at the sky and sometimes at him.

But he got a text from Jeongin—there was a problem back at the campground, something minor about an electric panel. So Chris left. He wished you a good rest of your day and said, “I’ll see you later,” and he left. And the paper bag with watercolors was still on the table and he hadn’t been angry about it, or jealous, and you wish he had been. 

How greedy of you. 

You ate your sandwich in the empty, quiet house. And then you put the plate in the dishwasher and headed out, driving the short ride to Riverside Campground while listening to the local radio station. It wasn’t particularly good but it was distracting enough that while it played, your brain wasn’t full of stuff. You knew it was effective as soon as you turned the engine off because the noise in your mind came back.

One might have believed you were a religious woman if they could hear your thoughts as you walked through the camping ground, holding this paper bag. They were closer to prayer than to rational thinking.

I hope he won’t be there. I hope Minho also won’t be there. But deeper, quieter—I mean, I’d like to see Hyunjin again. I hope I don’t see Chris around. I hope he cancels dinner tomorrow so I don’t have to pretend to be alright around him. I hope I see him tonight. Maybe I should call Dad and ask him to come for dinner at Marlene’s, too. And then, when the familiar sound of an electric lawn trimmer echoed from one side of the campground, you decided to go the other way, even though it would add twenty minutes to your walk. I don’t really feel like seeing Summer today. Chris will probably be with her. I don’t hate her. I wish I hated her. I wish I was her friend. I wish Chris had been angry at me.

It all came down to the same thing—the thoughts were expressed with different words but they held a similar hidden meaning, which was that you wished you were somebody else. Or rather that you weren’t you. Maybe life would be less complicated if you weren’t… that. If you weren’t a woman selfish enough to secretly want her husband to be jealous because she bought art supplies for a handsome young man while secretly wishing this aforementioned handsome young man somehow remembered her at all. The same way she remembered him. Which is to say, a way that involved her lips and maybe her hair, and the way her body felt against his.

How greedy of you. 

Before you knew it, you were walking on the path leading to the RV shared by Hyunjin and Minho. It was mid-afternoon on a bright sunny day and regardless of your abstract, prayer-like thoughts, you really didn’t imagine anyone would be there. Realistically speaking. You figured you’d leave the bag somewhere near the door, hidden from view, and go back. Maybe you’d go hang out at the shop or at the park office. Most people spent the day doing all sorts of outdoor activities before coming back to rest in the evenings. 

Needless to say, you found yourself a little puzzled when you saw that Minho was standing outside the RV. Though a part of your brain reminded you that people were free to do whatever the hell they wanted to do with their time, you still found it strange. You allowed yourself to observe him as you walked, slowing down your pace. He was taking things from larger containers to put them in a fancy backpack. There was a radio playing at a low volume somewhere inside the RV, the sound of it spilling from the open windows. 

That didn’t stop him from hearing you as you approached. To be fair, this was the quietest part of the entire campsite. “We missed you at breakfast,” was all he said at first.

You were far away enough that you thought you misheard him. Surely you must have misheard him. “Excuse me?” You picked up a pace, finding yourself curious and eager to see where this conversation was going. 

“Buh-reak-fast,” Minho repeated, exaggerating his pronunciation. “I made food for you!” 

He looked up from his task then, studying you from where you stood, which was a few feet away. He put the backpack down, leaning against the RV, adopting a comfortable, nonchalant posture, which invited a conversation. 

You took a step closer, a frown appearing over your eyes as they danced around the perimeter as though they were looking for something. Or someone. And maybe they were. But you didn’t want to be looking for anything so you focused on the man before you, only no words came to your mind and even less on your tongue. 

His inquisitive expression turned a shade darker as his eyes squinted. “You didn’t think I meant it when I gave you the invite, did you?”

You gulped, wondering if you were an open book for just about anybody who came across you. “I mean—” But nothing else came, so you pressed your lips together, your heart beating erratically. 

“Hyunjin was right I guess,” Minho sighed. “He said you wouldn’t come because you probably thought I was just being polite,” he added as an explanation. “He said you guys spent some time together last night.” 

“He told you that?” But really you meant, Hyunjin talked about me? And it was stupid. Naive.

“He tends to be right about people. Annoys the shit out of me,” Minho sighed. “For future reference, when I say something, it’s because I mean it, not because I’m trying to be nice.” 

You nodded, giving yourself a few seconds to evade his gaze and let your cheeks cool off. “Noted.” 

As you came closer, it became evident that Minho was gathering fishing gear. He took a few instants to secure everything and zip up the backpack. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you meant it. “I worked all night and then… It’s true that I wasn’t sure if I should come or not.” 

Minho offered you a gentle smile, motioning you to sit down. “Do you want lemonade? A beer?”

“No, but thank you so much though.” You realized you spoke the words before really thinking them over. You were just used to staying away from people, especially strangers. “I just came here to drop this.” You gave the paper bag a little shake. “Is Hyunjin here?” 

“He’s around.” Minho scanned the area, twisting his neck. “He said he was gonna walk by the river. Is that for him?”

“Just a little something.” You could leave it right here. Only you didn’t. “I’ll try to find him. Thank you,” you added with a smile that you almost meant. 

You followed the same path you had last night when you unexpectedly smelled weed—you went over the short fence and landed on the soft grass, the feeling of it familiar underneath the soles of your sandals. Today, the air smelled like the first few days of summer, when the trees and plants were still a little shy but undeniably alive. You remembered feeling like this, once. 

Around you, the river was just as alive too, flowing urgently and sparkling under the bright sun. You held onto the handle of the bag as you walked cautiously, still wondering what the hell you were doing here. And also, what the hell you would tell Hyunjin.

Your train of thought came to a stop abruptly when you heard his voice. It came to you faintly at first, as though it was carried by the wind. But you kept going, reaching the spot where you could see the space where you and Hyunjin had been last night.

He was there today again, sitting on the big boulder, his phone to his ear and a closed sketchbook with a few pencils on his lap. He wore knee-length jean shorts and a loose, white tee. You wondered if Hyunjin’s beauty ever didn’t look effortless. 

The silence lasted long enough that you thought the call had ended, but then he spoke again, in Korean. You didn’t understand what he was saying but you caught the tone of it, the shakiness of his voice. You felt it somewhere within you like an echo, like you had heard it before but on your own lips. 

He said a word then—Dara—and you knew it wasn’t a word. You knew it was a name. He spoke it with pain and with love, and it seemed like you understood the sorrow you had seen in the man’s brown eyes. 

Dara. 

Who was she? A lover, obviously. Only a lover would evoke such deep emotion in someone, and you could hear that in his voice. Was she his girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend? Future girlfriend? 

And then it hit you—it was violent enough that you had to retreat and hold onto the fence behind you, hiding to make sure Hyunjin wouldn’t see you after you let out a faint gasp. 

Resentment. The painting. The two lovers, bound together by pain and tragedy. And all of the other paintings about love that you had seen on Hyunjin’s page, like the one whose background was a deep Alizarin Crimson, only the background spilled over the two subjects who were kissing, turning them red, too. Hyunjin’s perspective on love was soul-stirring, sentimental, painful. Only somebody who went through true heartbreak would feel this way—or be able to recognize it in others. 

The greedy, ugly part of you wished Hyunjin’s heart didn’t belong so ardently to this Dara so that he would fall in love with you someday. Or maybe not fall in love with you—maybe just… whatever it was that people did these days. You weren’t exactly sure what it was. It seemed like everybody was in some sort of situationship with someone they met on an app. The others were waiting for their crush to get out of the situationship they were in. It wasn’t that you wanted Hyunjin to love you—it wasn’t even that you wanted Hyunjin to desire you. Well, it would be nice if he did, but he looked like a young god so there was no chance this would ever happen. 

It’s just that he had seen you.

For the first time in a long, long time, you had let him see parts of you that you hadn’t let anybody else see, and he hadn’t pushed you away. He had told you that your souls had colors in it. He had shown you kindness. And then he held you in his arms, even just for that brief instant.

Once a year, sometimes twice but rarely, you went out of town to some shitty bar just because. You sat there at the counter and at some point into the night, when all the pretty girls had disappeared, a man would buy you a drink. You let him buy you the drink and it never went any further. At most you thanked him, but you rarely even did that. It was just some sort of reminder that maybe, just maybe, someone would want you again. Someday. If you weren’t with Chris anymore. 

Last night, stupidly, had felt like the equivalent of that, but better—like Hyunjin had bought you a drink after seeing all of your wounds and deciding he didn’t mind them all that much maybe.

But he said her name again on the phone. Dara. She must be beautiful. Surely, she was. Surely, his whole entire heart belonged to her, with the way he painted love so raw and powerful, and red, and real. 

You did the only thing that made sense then—you turned around and walked back, cursing yourself for being like this. A traitor to your husband and your dead daughter. You went over the fence and walked the path back to the RV. Minho was still there, scrolling his phone and sitting on a camping chair. 

“He wasn’t there? I mean he’s a good swimmer but I hope he didn’t fall in the river,” he started jokingly but he was serious. 

“He’s on the phone,” you replied, putting the paper bag on the steps near the RV door. “It seemed important, so I’ll just leave this here.” 

“Oh.” Minho frowned as he was thinking things over. “Want me to give him a message then?”

“Not really, it’s pretty straightforward.” You took a deep breath. For courage. The air still smelled like the world should be beautiful. 

“Another time for breakfast then, miss boss?”

“Another time,” you said as you walked away, the sun burning your eyes and your skin. Things were simpler at night. Emotions were simpler to conceal. You hoped Minho didn’t read your face accurately because you weren’t proud of the things going on in your mind. It had been a mistake to come here—to let your heart off its leash. The kind of mistake it was almost impossible to unmake.

The day after, you kept yourself busy with things around the campsite. Phone calls to contractors for last-minute repairs and then overseeing those repairs, sometimes with Chris, sometimes not. You spent a lot of time at the park office doing paperwork because it kept your mind off things while making you feel productive. And the office was air-conditioned, which was a great incentive. You sat at the counter and chatted with Jake and with the clients he welcomed in. You stopped by the shop too, to make sure everything was stocked up. 

You called your father. Well, your father called you first but you were with one of the contractors and couldn’t take the call, so technically you called your father back. He said Chris invited him for dinner tonight but he wasn’t sure he could make it because your aunt had broken her wrist and he had told her he would help her out. It’s fine Dad, you assured him. You were too busy here at Riverside to go visit your aunt after her bad fall and you were glad to know her brother would be there for her. 

It was only well into adulthood that you had wondered what it was like to have a sibling—you had never needed one before because you grew up with Christopher. He was a part of your family and you a part of his. You sort of wished you had a sister now, someone who would be able to advise you on the situation you were in. Which wasn’t even a situation, you reminded yourself. It was more like a string of situation after situation, a whirlpool of events that you found yourself stuck in and you couldn’t get out of. 

The sun was beginning to descend onto the horizon when people started telling the group chat they were headed to Marlene’s. You took care of closing up the park office while Jake headed out, taking your time. Chris’ mom stopped on her way to the shop to say hello—she would take care of the general shop while the staff had dinner. You had the feeling that she had offered just so you didn’t have an excuse not to go. And you knew that people did that with good intentions so you didn’t resent them for it, not really. You just wished they let you decide what was good for you and what wasn’t. 

Still, you made your way to the campsite restaurant. It was maybe your favorite time of the day, when the sun was low enough that its light shone a pretty shade of amber, filtering through tree branches, illuminating the world with warm incandescence. It was the sort of lighting you always looked for when visiting a museum and viewing paintings—you liked to see it recreated on canvases. Renoir had been particularly good at this, although today his paintings carried a commercial reputation, often disdained by art lovers over the world. You could understand that his style—saccharine and bright and saturated—was not for everybody, but you never understood those who claimed he was not a talented painter. In any case. He painted light just the way you liked to see it. 

Sometimes you liked to imagine how people would paint the moments you were in. Like right now. This sunset, this path you were walking on, the people around you. Tired parents and tired children, exerted after a day spent at the pool or the waterpark. Young couples coming back from a hike, older couples taking a leisurely walk after dinner before heading to their RV for an early night in. You had grown up in this place and you had seen more people in it than you could ever remember, but all of them were beautiful in their own way, and all of them, you felt like, would be the perfect subjects for a Renoir-like painting. With the remnants of sunlight caressing their hair or their cheekbones or their lips.

A lot of people were already at the restaurant when you got in. A few campsite patrons, of course, but most of them were done with dinner at this hour, leaving enough space for the staff. You ignored the four tables occupied by them at first, crossing the dining room to say hi to the kitchen staff, asking if they would join you, too. You got a few yeses and a few noes, but Marlene thanked you sincerely for the offer, mentioning that Chris had offered the same. Of course he had. Chris would never, ever leave anybody behind. 

You went to sit with the others, choosing the empty seat next to Allie’s. You were surprised to see her as she rarely participated in such events. She asked about your day as you got settled in, pretending not to notice that Chris was at the other side of the four tables brought together, sitting with Summer, her father, as well as Jake and Jaime, who he got along with. 

“Hey boss,” Jeongin said with his usual brightness. 

“Hey,” you responded, doing your best to make your smile believable, but by now you were pretty sure you were rather good at it. 

“I wanted to say thank you for the other night.” His cheeks turned pink, which you found adorable. “It was fun.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Though, if you don’t ask Lucy out by the end of this summer, I’ll run out of patience.” 

The pink on the young man’s cheeks became a little darker and he hid behind his glass of soda for a few seconds, taking a large sip from it. “I—I—” he stammered, searching for his words. 

Your smile became genuine then. It reminded you of the first few weeks with Chris when you still couldn’t believe he had been in love with you for all these years and yet at the same time you couldn’t believe you hadn’t seen it before, because it was so obvious.

“I’m just joking of course,” you added softly. “But she’s a nice girl, isn’t she?”

“She is, boss.” Jeongin nodded. He smiled, looking at the table while he ran his thumb over a scratch on the wooden surface. “I just figured, you know. It might be weird with her dad and stuff.” 

Christopher had told you the same thing once. You couldn’t help but feel immense empathy for Jeongin—you squeezed his hand in yours, inviting him to look you in the eyes. You had known him for a while now and you did believe to have a good relationship with him. He was among your most trusted employees, and you knew he looked up to Chris a lot. 

“You’re a good man,” you told him, keeping your voice low so as not to be heard by anyone other than Allie and Jeongin. “If my daughter were to date someone like you, I would be happy.” 

Jeongin froze in his seat as the weight of your words reached him. Allie put a comforting hand on your shoulder, perhaps sensing that you needed it. Jeongin knew. About you. About Chris. About the rift between you two. Maybe he didn’t know the extent of it but he knew enough to understand how difficult it had been for you to say the words my daughter out loud and you could see the gratitude in his eyes. 

“Thank you, boss,” he said under his breath. “Let me get you a drink—” 

“No, no it’s fine.” You shook your head. “Dinner’s on me anyway. On us,” you added, a little louder, looking at Chris. “Right?” 

“Of course,” Chris replied without hesitation. “I’m starving, shall we order?”

A few people got up to the counter to give their orders while a few others stayed back as they figured out what they wanted. Jeongin kept looking over his shoulder, glancing at you, almost like he was worried.

“That was a kind thing for you to say,” Allie told you. “He likes you guys a lot.”

“We like him too. I meant what I said.”

Allie sighed faintly, her hand returning to your shoulder for a quick squeeze. “You seem a little better than the other morning,” she pointed out. 

You remembered the river and the common loons and the sunrise, and your heart as it was being reignited. 

“Didn’t you say I looked less melancholic the other morning?” you questioned, using Allie’s exact words.

“Yes. But you also looked like you felt bad about it,” she explained. Allie was very direct—something she said had come after losing her husband, as she had been a very reserved and closed-off person who kept her opinions to herself before. “Would you like to come by for coffee sometime? We could have a chat, just you and I. Away from here.”

It sounded like a good idea in theory. You knew that you needed it. You knew that you couldn’t possibly make sense of all these thoughts spinning in your mind on your own. You’d need someone else, with an outsider’s perspective, to guide you through them. 

You also knew, essentially, what she would tell you. What anybody would tell you. Because you knew what you would tell a friend of yours in that situation.

Some things you just weren’t ready to hear.

You were picking at a dinner you weren’t particularly hungry for, listening to the lively conversations around you and letting them make you feel alive when you heard the bell of the restaurant door ringing. At first, you didn’t even look up—you only did so when you noticed that Christopher’s voice quieted down. So naturally, you glanced at him to see if something was wrong, maybe expecting him to be looking deep into Summer’s eyes with a loving gaze. But he was looking in the direction of the door, where two men stood, speaking in low voices in a foreign language. 

Tonight, Hyunjin’s hair was in a low bun that rested on the nape of his neck. He wore loose, comfortable clothes—a T-shirt and shorts. Minho wore a similar outfit. The two of them had a rugged look to them that you hadn’t necessarily seen before, hinting that they had spent the better part of the day outside. 

Your heart did a stupid little jump in your chest as you watched them scan the room, looking for the best seats. When Hyunjin finally turned to you and caught sight of you, his expression changed. It softened and yet became unreadable, the way a lake would freeze in the winter months, its surface becoming smooth and solid, yet you knew there was much going on underneath.

Minho waved at you and it took you a few seconds to wave back. Hyunjin offered you a smile that you weren’t sure what it meant but you also smiled back, clearing your throat as they walked away, invited to order their food by a Marlene who was eager to give good service to her clients. And to go home for the night as soon as possible. 

“You know these gentlemen?” Allie asked, trying to sound as innocent as she could and failing miserably. “I don’t think I’ve seen them before this year, but one of them came by the shop to buy worms this morning.” 

So they did go fishing after all. 

You cleared your throat again, unable to resist a glance at the other side of the table where Chris was as invested in his conversation as he had been earlier, now sitting with Jeongin and Summer and discussing a TV series they all particularly enjoyed. He did glance back at you, just half a second. Just through the corner of his eye—it was so imperceptible that you might have made it up, just like you wanted him to be jealous yesterday.

You took all the time in the world to bite into your pizza and carefully chew it. 

“I mean they’re clients,” you replied, taking a large sip of soda to chase it down.

“As are hundreds of people on this campground and not all of them say hello to you,” Allie pointed out. “They’re quite handsome, aren’t they?”

You choked on your soda—badly enough that it prompted Hyunjin, who was ordering his food, to look in your direction. You pretended you didn’t see him. 

“We had a chat, yes,” you told Allie. You knew better than to lie to her. And why would you lie? It’s not like there was anything to lie about anyway. “One of them is related to my favorite painter. What a coincidence, right?”

“It’s so cute how you love art. You should go back to Paris,” Allie said with a firm nod. It was one of the first things you ever told her when you met Allie. How you had loved visiting all of the museums in Paris when you traveled there for your honeymoon. Chris had preferred the vineyards in the south of France, but it had been a lovely time. Maybe the happiest you had ever been.

“This place isn’t gonna run itself,” you pointed out. “And I’m not going to put it all on Christopher’s shoulders,” you added when you saw that Allie was about to talk back.

She made a face that showed how she understood what you meant and returned to her food. You ate too, silently, only speaking when directly spoken to, glancing at the other side of the dining room where Hyunjin and Minho were having dinner. You thought that maybe once or twice, you caught them glancing back but it had to be a coincidence—or rather, your group were the only other people in the diner by now and some were quite loud at times, and, of course, it would cause someone to look this way. Right? 

It lasted a while—no more than fifteen minutes. You sat there, wondering whether you should get up and go talk to them. To Minho, but to Hyunjin, too. Wondering what you would say to him anyway. Wondering if you were upset that he hadn’t come talk to you after you bought him painting supplies. But you couldn’t possibly be upset about this, could you? What kind of person would that make you? 

Jeongin left first—he was off duty tonight and you knew he needed the rest. Allie left right after him since she’d need to be up early to open the shop tomorrow morning. It allowed you to also gather your things and walk away—leaving in the middle, neither the first nor the last, would ensure some sort of camouflage. It would leave you unnoticed. It would not raise questions. 

So you gathered your things and brought your plates back into the kitchen yourself to rinse them yourself but Marlene basically threw you out, claiming you were wearing the wrong attire to be on this side of the counter, but really you knew she just wanted you to take it easy. You still took a few instants to inquire about her walk-in inventory, making sure she wasn’t going to run out of anything—it seemed like the campground was especially full this week. 

The dining room was almost empty when you went back. Chris, Summer, and Jake were the only three people left.

Hyunjin and Minho were gone, their table empty and clean. 

“Everyone wanted me to say bye and goodnight,” Chris told you. “We’re getting beers with the kitchen staff,” he added, waving his beer bottle at you. You knew he would only drink one because Chris was on duty for the night. 

“I’ll head home, Dad said he’d call me to update me about Martha.” 

“I hope your aunt’s gonna be alright,” Summer blurted out. She rarely spoke to you these days and you knew why. You understood why. She wanted to fuck your husband and she was actually mature and kind enough to feel bad about it. “She’s so sweet.” 

“She is sweet but she’s also stubborn as fuck, so she’ll be just fine,” you retorted, finding it surprisingly easy to act like a human being around her. Maybe it was out of despair. “You guys have a nice night—”

You walked out of the diner as you spoke and surprise muted the last syllable of your sentence. The door fell closed behind you, the familiar bell ringing with it as you found yourself outside again. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon but its light lingered as it did in the summer, unrelenting and unrelentingly beautiful. The highest point of the sky had turned a dull gray, but everything below was a lovely gradient of lavender, blue, and golden shades. 

In any case.

Hyunjin was waiting for you, leaning against the trunk of a larch tree. 

The reason you knew he was waiting for you is because he straightened up as soon as you exited Marlene’s diner, putting his phone in the pocket of his shorts. Something inside you made you glance around and look for Minho, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey,” Hyunjin started. A smile as enigmatic as the sunset sky hung on his graceful lips. “Are you going somewhere? I mean—do you have like a minute or two for me?” 

You realized you had frozen in place when you saw him walk towards you and it prompted you to move, too. As though you wanted to put some distance between you and the diner. Or rather, the people in it. 

“Y—Yeah, no, uh, no, I’m not really going anywhere,” you managed, blinking slowly as you stopped in your tracks once you stood in front of Hyunjin. It was as though you had forgotten how tall he was and how broad his shoulders were. Like he wasn’t quite the same person from a distance as opposed to just a few inches away from you.

“Cool, thanks.” His teeth sank into his bottom lip for just a few seconds as he averted his gaze, quickly taking a posture that hinted he was looking for a place to sit down. 

He located a bench on the other side of the larch tree, which faced the river. It was a quiet little spot and you often saw people sitting on this bench, eating ice cream cones and chatting while looking at the water in front of them. He invited you to join him there with one motion of his long arm and you followed him with a glance for the diner over your shoulder. 

“Did you have a nice dinner?” you asked, impatient to break the ice. Your heart was beating fast in your chest, your pulse shallow, rendering your breath a little short. “Seems like you guys spent the day outside.” 

Hyunjin nodded, his smile returning to his lips. “Min wanted to go fishing and he made me go with him.”

“You mean he physically dragged you to the boat and threw you on it?” you asked playfully, tilting your head to the side. 

“Exactly like that. It was more like a kidnapping,” Hyunjin added in the same humorous tone. There was a pause then, maybe to allow both of you to get used to one another and to the quietness of the world. “Dinner was excellent, yes,” he said finally. “You too?”

“I wasn’t too hungry,” you admitted. “But I never didn’t enjoy a meal at Marlene’s.” 

“I bet I’ll say the same by the end of the summer.” Hyunjin sat more comfortably on the bench, laying his arm on the backrest. 

You gave him a nod and a non-committal hum as a response, unsure where to go from there. You enjoyed the momentary silence between you two, noticing the little details about him. The way he was fidgeting with the zipper of his backpack, the gracefulness of his fingers. The honey color of his skin, now sunkissed after a day outside. The wind in the stray strands of his hair. You had never seen anyone like Hyunjin before, and it made you wonder if you would ever see someone like him after.

“How was fishing?” you inquired, but it turned out that Hyunjin spoke at the exact same time as you.

“I wanted to say thank you,” he said simultaneously. “Oh,” he added in the awkwardness of the moment.

“Oh,” you added also, your cheeks turning warm despite the ambient air turning cool. 

Another silence fell upon the two of you. You sat there on the bench, facing the river with your two hands on your knees and your heart in your throat. In that moment, you remembered the time you got so sick Chris had to drive you to urgent care. It was a few years back. It was the first winter after losing Judith. You hadn’t known at first that you were ill. You were fatigued, you had headaches—nothing out of the ordinary for you. It escalated a little and you needed medical care before you realized it. But you really hadn’t known. 

It wasn’t about being in denial. You weren’t in denial that something was happening to you right now. That you felt some kind of way about the man sitting next to you on this bench. You just couldn’t pinpoint what it was—you had known nothing but grief and sorrow for so long that you didn’t think you could recognize anything that wasn’t it. You didn’t think there was space in your heart for anything that wasn’t it. 

“Uh…” Hyunjin started again, cautious, carefully unzipping the front pocket of his backpack. “Yeah, so. I’ll just say it. I wanted to say thank you for what you did for me.”

That caught you off guard. “What I did for you?” 

“You brought me paint tubes and paper and brushes and all that stuff,” he said, speaking very slowly as though you were suffering from amnesia and he needed to remind you of these things. “You bought these things for me. They were all brand new.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“It’s nothing?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Well you asked for them at the shop didn’t you?” you retorted. “You’re a painter. A really good one at that. Obviously you need paint.” 

Hyunjin stared at you for a few seconds, his gaze lingering in unusual places like your hair or the straps of your sundress, or the diner behind you. 

“But I know they don’t sell stuff like that in Stormhaven because we looked for it before we asked for it here at the shop,” Hyunjin explained, still in this slow, very teacher-like tone. “So you went somewhere else.”

“Yes,” you replied in the same voice, wondering if he took you for an idiot and if you should be offended, but something in his eyes told you that you shouldn’t. “I know a great art store a couple of towns over and—”

He interrupted you. “How long did it take you to get there?” 

“What?” What kind of conversation was that even?

“How long did you drive to get to that art supplies shop? Because I checked online for art stores in the immediate area and there aren’t any,” Hyunjin insisted, waving his phone to emphasize his point.

You blinked slowly. It seemed like so many steps on his part just for a few tubes of paint. At least that’s what your brain was telling you, reminding you that nothing meant anything, that life was just a series of events that were or weren’t interconnected.

“I don’t know,” you managed with a shrug. “An hour maybe.”

“An hour and then another hour to come back,” Hyunjin repeated, more like a statement than a question. “You did all of that just for me, a stranger. So why are you saying it’s nothing? It’s really not nothing to me.” 

He seemed a little upset. Like you had just dismissed him in some way.

You blinked again and it was like you were seeing him for the first time. Like you were seeing everything else for the first time, too.

Because you had been just about to lie to him. Which is what you would have done normally. You would have said that you had an appointment in that area and that you were going anyway. You would have said that you were meeting a friend who lived over there for coffee and had gone shopping with her and thought, Well, why not? Why shouldn’t I buy a few supplies? as you walked past them. It was like second nature to you—you didn’t even think about it. It just happened the same way breathing did.

As though you didn’t want people to know you had gone out of your way for them. Not Hyunjin, but not Chris either, not even your father. It had been the same with your mom too, and so many others. What an awful thing. As though you were ashamed of how much you loved other people, how deeply you cared about them.

Because your lies weren’t inherently evil didn’t make you any less of a liar. And you hated liars. You hated lies and deception and anything that wasn’t the truth. What did that mean about yourself?

How many other parts of yourself had you concealed? How much of your soul was buried deep enough that nobody—not even yourself—would ever find it? 

Hyunjin relaxed all of a sudden—his shoulders turned limp. “Sorry,” he said under his breath. “I didn’t mean to sound angry.” 

You must have had a strange expression on your face for his entire demeanor to switch like that. You gulped. 

“You were right to be,” you admitted, suddenly feeling very small and very stupid. You were realizing something important about yourself and it seemed like you ought to be alone during this moment. “You’re not nothing.” You paused then, just to take a deep breath. To give yourself a little courage. “I wanted you to have what you needed so that you could paint. I like your work, or what I’ve seen of it,” you explained slowly, your gaze fixated on the slow-moving water before you. “And I had a good time the other night. When we sat by the river.” 

“I had a good time too.” Finally, after playing with it for minutes, Hyunjin unzipped the front pocket of his backpack. “It’s just. Kindness isn’t nothing.” He was speaking at a low volume—low enough that you could barely hear him. But you could hear him, and you listened. “There are many people who make me feel like I’m not worth it, but you drove all this way to get me paint and it means a lot to me. So I made a little something for you.”

With that, Hyunjin pulled something out of his backpack. You recognized it immediately as the aquarelle paper pad you bought for him—at that sight, your heart picked up a pace again. He opened the notepad, flipping through the first few pages on which you caught a glance of some sketches. There wasn’t much color on them, but it was quite the opposite for the page he stopped at.

Carefully, he tore that page off the pad and handed it to you. “There. Just a little something to say thank you.” 

You took the sheet from him, your gaze going from his face to his painting and back to him as though you couldn’t believe it. And yet you were now holding a painting that Hyunjin had made. The paper felt heavier than it should have in your hand. You studied it, trying to take in the sight of it all at once, but you couldn’t stop noticing the tiniest details. The night sky and its lifelike colors. It wasn’t just any night sky—it was yours. It was the one over your head night after night. With the stars and a few hazy clouds adding some purple to the inky dark blue. The moon could be seen behind the clouds, hiding and yet visible. Beautiful nonetheless.

The painting depicted a river also but not just any river—this river, the river you saw and heard and smelled every day. You recognized it. You recognized the riverbank and the intricate curves of it, you recognized exactly where this was. But there was so much to see. The delicate reflections of the light spilling from the windows of the cabins in the distance, on the other side of the water. The stars and how bright they shone. The tall grass and the reeds just shadows in the night but recognizable anyway. 

The evergreens. One in the foreground, one you couldn’t see entirely. Just some branches. The rest could be imagined. You knew because you knew which tree it was. It was a black spruce and whip-poor-wills liked to rest on its lower branches to sing their nocturnal song. The rest of the forest was more of a blur in the background as it was in real life—just like the mountains on the other side of the river.

To Hyunjin, it was just a painting depicting a corner where he had spent some time one evening, but to you, it meant so much more. This was the exact spot where you came across him the other night and had that long conversation with him. It was the first time you admitted to someone—of your own volition, not because they had heard something from somebody else—about the darkness that resided within you. The sorrow that lingered. That night was the first time you had allowed someone to really see you since you lost Judith. 

And you had never really expected it to happen. As in, you never thought you’d actually let someone see you in a vulnerable state again, but you just assumed that if you did, they wouldn’t stay around for long. It was just too heavy. You were just too heavy, like a fire sucking the air out of a room, suffocating everybody inside.

And yet Hyunjin was here tonight with gentleness in his eyes and paint on aquarelle paper. 

“Oh wow,” you managed after a while, your throat tight. You stared up at him. “Hyunjin, it’s… it’s so nice of you, that’s…” For some reason, at that moment you remembered his portfolio and his Insta page and realized you were holding an artwork of great value in your hands. “It’s beautiful. It looks just like it, too. That place.” 

“I painted it from memory,” he explained. “It was my view that night, while we talked.” He hesitated, his eyes going from the sheet in your hand to the notepad he held. “I painted another one too.” 

Intrigued, you watched as he opened the pad once again, going through pages until he found what he was looking for. His cheeks had turned the color of summer cherries when he handed it to you. 

Your entire body, it seemed, caught on fire when you grabbed it. 

To put it simply, Hyunjin had painted you. 

It was another painting depicting a scene from that other night, with the same dark blue and purple sky, but in this one, the moon was out, and its light was illuminating the woman sitting on the grass. She sat elegantly, in a way you did not think you had sat, with her body slightly tilting at the back, resting on her two hands, her face turned towards the sky as though she was bathing in the moonlight. A couple of mini liquor bottles rested next to her, as well as a walkie-talkie. 

It was you, except it couldn’t be you, because you weren’t this beautiful. Your hair floated in the night like a siren’s would in the sea, or something like it, the light of the moon reflecting on it in Hyunjin’s expert brush strokes. You knew this must have been difficult to blend in watercolors and yet it looked seamless. Likelike. 

No, not lifelike. Enhanced. Because you did not look like this. The curves of your body did not look pleasant like that, or appealing. Your posture was not the one of a demigoddess, and your lips did not have the color of a ripe peach. It was not like looking into a mirror, it felt more like staring at a stranger. The expression on your face was blurry due to the hazy aspects of watercolor but it was enough to see that it was complex. Deep. As though your sadness had beauty in it. 

You sat there, staring at both pieces of art, speechless. 

“I wanted to remember that night. And you,” you heard Hyunjin say. And he was very much there, right there, yet his voice came from another world. 

There were so many words crowding your throat and shoving each other, racing to be the first to spill from your lips, that it took you several more seconds before you were able to speak at all. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted under your breath, your voice weak and quivering. 

“You don’t need to say anything,” Hyunjin pointed out, taking the notepad back from you. He didn’t seem upset. 

“No, it’s just—” You began, stopping mid-sentence with a frown, your gaze following movement on the other side of the river. A bird. It was narrow here, and you recognized a member of the thrush family. Your mother would have known which, but you didn’t. “You painted me so pretty. And—” You paused again, searching for the bird in the dense forest but the day was darkening fast. “It’s just that. That night—it—it meant a lot for me. I never really talk about Judith. I don’t want people to know about her. But I wanted you to know about her. Does that make sense?”

Hyunjin, who was putting his notepad back into his bag, came to a stop slowly, staring at you. Really staring at you. Not really like he was seeing you for the first time, rather like he was visiting a museum for the second time to see an exhibit there and understand it better. 

“It makes perfect sense,” he replied softly. “I understand because I felt the same.”

“Like you wanted me to know about that girl?” 

He nodded, zipping his backpack and leaving it on the ground, clearing his throat. “Dara. Yeah.” 

Dara. So you were right about that name, about her. About the woman you thought was in his art, painted crimson and vermillion. 

But you were a woman in one of his paintings too, now. And you did not know what to do about this. 

“You’re so nice, and kind, and—” You paused, sighing. “I don’t understand how this could have happened to you.” And truly, you did not. She didn’t want to love me back, he had said. What kind of person could that woman be to refuse someone like him?

But if you were to be fully honest with yourself—almost in an ugly, gruesome way. Weren’t you building a cage around your own heart ever since you laid eyes on Hyunjin? Not even willing to admit to yourself that he was handsome? That his scent, blended with the smell of the outdoors, made prickles appear on your skin? That his sunkissed skin was inviting? That you wanted to run your fingers through his silky hair? Weren’t you pretending that you hadn’t felt anything when he helped you over the fence, just holding your arm, or even worse, when he hugged you? When he pressed you against his chest, embracing you? Weren’t you pretending that you didn’t feel it between your legs when his warm breath tickled your neck? Weren’t you pretending that it didn’t overwhelm you that he painted for you?

That he painted you? That he painted the texture of your skin, the curves of your body, and the way your shirt hugged your breasts?

“Things just happen, we’re not really meant to understand them I think,” Hyunjin wisely pointed out. “It’s also in our nature to try and understand them, though.”

“You’re right,” you conceded. “Trying to find meaning in them.” 

Hyunjin nodded faintly. You both allowed silence to creep in between you two as the night covered the sky lazily. Frogs were beginning their night song here and there, some close, some farther. The sky was neither blue nor dark—the lavender gray had taken over it for now, before nightfall would spill over the world. You used the last remnants of light to look at the painting Hyunjin gifted you once again. 

“This means a lot to me,” you murmured. “It’s just so…”

“I’m glad you like it,” Hyunjin responded, looking around, perhaps searching for the frog that was singing nearby. 

The other painting was stuck in your mind the way one was blinded by the sun if they looked at it for too long. No matter where you looked—even if you closed your eyes, it was still there, engraved in your retina.

This—all of this—was too much. The feelings you didn’t want in your chest. The images haunting your eyes and your mind and your heart and your cunt, even. And somehow it wasn’t enough, as though your dormant heart demanded more even. 

“You didn’t sign it,” you pointed out, realizing Hyunjin’s signature didn’t appear on the other side of the page either. 

Hyunjin gave you an appraising look and you waited while he was coming up with an answer. You had seen his portfolio and his social media profiles. You had seen his art. He used to sign each of his paintings with his initials—a simple but efficient HHJ in the bottom right corner of the canvas. And then at one point, he just stopped. It was around the time when he started incorporating more reds into his art.

“I could make an exception for you,” he said finally, retrieving a pen from his backpack. It was attached to what might have been a journal, or maybe it was a simple notebook. 

“You don’t have to,” you assured. But he had already taken the sheet from you and was using the back of the notebook as a temporary table on which he lay his painting to apply his signature on the bottom right corner.

You looked for red in the painting. It was in the purple of the sky and in the warmth of the light coming from the cabins across the river. You remembered the other painting and the colors he had used to paint you. Your skin. Your lips. 

He signed Hyunjin, just that, and gave it back to you. 

“I’ll cherish this all my life,” you said, and you knew it was true. Hell, it felt wrong to hold it just like that. You wanted to go home right now and store it carefully, somewhere safe.

But you also wanted to stay right here. 

“Did you have dessert?” Hyunjin blurted out all of a sudden. 

The question surprised you—you turned to him as though he had spoken to you in a foreign language. 

“Did you have dessert with your dinner?” he asked, motioning at the diner behind you. The lights had been turned on inside, illuminating his sunkissed face, highlighting the details of it. The curves of his lips and those of his nose. The softness in his eyes. “Could I buy you an ice cream?” 

For a second, then two, three, four, and five, you stared at him and he stared at you. It was not so much that you were reading him—perhaps you were trying to see your own reflection in his irises, as though you would understand his viewpoint. His eyes were the color of earth. Of rich soil on a rainy day. His eyes were the color of the bark of an oak tree dampened by dew on a late spring morning. 

If you weren’t greedy, maybe, you’d go home and forget all about tonight.

“No, you can’t buy me an ice cream,” you replied, suppressing a mischievous smile. 

Taken aback, Hyunjin sat straight on the bench. “Oh—it’s fine, I—”

“Friends don’t pay for ice cream here,” you interrupted him. “It’s always free. I’ll just… maybe I’ll go back to my car, I don’t want to damage this—” you added, showing him the precious painting you were still holding. 

“I’ll take care of it.” Hyunjin was putting the notebook and pen back into his bag. He slipped the painting between two pages of his notepad, freeing you of it. “I’ll give it back after we eat.” 

“You better,” you teased, standing up, followed by Hyunjin. “Bet that thing will be worth thousands in a few years.” 

“I doubt that,” Hyunjin responded, hesitant, walking by your side and hiding behind his hair but you could see that he was blushing. “It’s just a tiny thing that I painted in the middle of a lake when Minho wasn’t having me rowing the boat.” 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Didn’t Monet buy a whole boat so he could go on the Seine and paint from the water? Your argument is therefore invalid.” 

Hyunjin found absolutely nothing to say—he stared at you, dumbfounded, speechless. 

“I just find it interesting that you’d do this—paint this, I mean, and give it to me—and act like it’s nothing,” you said with a shrug. “When not ten minutes ago, it was you who were scolding me for exactly the same thing? How did you word it already?” You pretended to think about it, only, you would never forget his words. “Kindness isn’t nothing.”

Hyunjin sighed and rolled his eyes as though he was exasperated, but his smile said otherwise. He raised his hands like one would raise a white flag. “You’re right. You’re right. You got me there.” 

“I was just joking anyway,” you reassured him. “I don’t care what it’s going to be worth in ten or twenty years. I won’t sell it.” 

You had made it to the small ice cream shop located right next to Marlene’s diner. The owner, who was a good friend of your father’s, was putting the chairs away for the night. You liked Frankie—he was like an uncle to you. He had been there for your father when your mom had passed. He had tried to be there for you when you had lost Judith, but you had not let him. You had not let anybody help you then, not even Chris. 

“Frankie, did you turn off the machines?” you asked Frankie, grabbing a couple of the colorful folding chairs and bringing them to the tiny shed where he kept them. 

“You know I did not, Squishy.” He always called you like that. “And you know that even if I had, I’d turn them back on for you.” 

You turned to Hyunjin, who had put his backpack on the steps leading to the ice cream parlor and was helping out with the chairs, without being asked, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Kindness isn’t nothing. 

“Frankie has been spoiling me since my early days,” you explained. 

“Well, it was hard not to,” Frankie confessed, running a hand in his gray hair. It was all gray now—you could have sworn that just last summer, there was still brown in there. He seemed more tired than usual. “Those two kids kept coming to beg for ice cream. Sometimes, kids are so cute, you know? You just can’t say no.” 

You and Chris. Chris and you. You used to be inseparable—all of your summers and weekends spent together, exploring the camping ground, always discovering more of its secrets. And regularly bargaining your way to an ice cream cone. 

“Sounds like sometimes you just can’t say no even when they’re all grown up,” Hyunjin added with a wink for Frankie. “Give me those,” he added for you, taking the two folded chairs you had just picked up. “I got this, Mr. Frankie, if you don’t mind.” 

“Oh, thank you, son. That’s very kind.” He turned to you. “That’s a nice guy right there.”  

The man gave Hyunjin a gentle squeeze on his shoulder and returned behind the counter of his ice cream parlor, disappearing momentarily while he was washing his hands. Frankie and his wife had struggled for a long time to have a child—they had given up when their daughter, Lucy, had decided to show up. Their miracle, they called her. They were a little older than other parents when they had her but they were amazing parents anyway. Maybe better, wiser parents too. Lucy was the girl that Jeongin was so desperately crushing on, too. It was a lovely family. 

“It’s fine I said,” Hyunjin insisted when you grabbed another chair. “I’ll do it, okay?”

You stood in front of him—it was dark now, or at least the lights from the ice cream shop made the rest of the world seem like the night—and you blinked, just staring at him. 

“I can do it though. I help Frankie or other people around the campground often,” you replied. 

“Are you going to fight me every time I’m being nice to you?” Hyunjin grabbed the remaining four chairs and brought them over to the shed, carefully piling them over one another. “I know you can do it. You’re wearing a nice dress, I didn’t want you to get dirt on it.” 

You looked down, smoothing the fabric of your humble off-white, yellowish sundress, pulling it down as though you could cover your knees with it, suddenly overly aware of your body inside of it and the way some of its curves might make it look. It was a little tight around the cleavage area too. The floral pattern of it—little roses, printed in a rustic style—had looked cute when you bought it. It seemed so stupid now.

“Oh.” You cleared your throat. “Of course. Thanks.” 

You went to fetch the padlock from Frankie and locked the shed closed. The old man offered both of you to come in and wash up—it was significantly cooler inside too, which was nice, despite how cramped the ice cream parlor was. In the end, you ordered your usual, which intrigued Hyunjin so much that he ordered the same thing. 

You liked Frankie’s frozen yogurt but anybody in their right mind knew that ice cream was obviously superior—and since you owned this damn camping ground, why should you settle? You had come up with the ultimate order, which was: in a cup, half a frozen yogurt of a fruity flavor of your desire. Tonight, it was strawberry. Then, the other half was vanilla ice cream—and Frankie made his soft-serve with real cream and real vanilla, so it was insanely good. Topped with fresh fruit—in this case, local strawberries and raspberries because Frankie had some—and when you wanted the experience to be as good or better than sex, the cup was sprinkled with just a little bit of salted pistachios. 

A few minutes later, Hyunjin and you were walking away, back in the direction where you had come from, holding your ice creams in your hands after saying goodbye to Frankie.

“Oh my god—” Hyunjin quickly put a second, then a third spoonful of your delicious creation in his already rather full mouth. “Tish ish sho foking ghood!” 

“I keep telling people that they should not disregard frozen yogurt but should also not settle for it, you know? People think compromises are a bad thing, but they can be so enlightening.” 

To be fair, Frankie’s products were excessively tasty, which largely helped. Still, there was something endearing in watching Hyunjin eat his ice cream, complimenting each aspect of it like it was the first time he had eaten it at all. 

“You’re a genius. You could be a millionaire if you sold this in tubs,” Hyunjin retorted. His face, illuminated again now that you two were walking in the light spilling from Marlene’s diner, was serious. 

You shook your head, giggling. “You’re adorable—” You cut your sentence short, although you didn’t even know what else there was to say. This was all getting too familiar. Was it weird that you said that? Maybe. Definitely. Warmth spread at the nape of your neck and you quickly shoved a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth to cool off.

“No, it’s just, it’s really good,” he insisted, waving the frozen yogurt/ice cream cup at you, walking again, and you followed him. 

The bench was empty and the two of you returned there, sitting to enjoy your dessert. In silence for the first few minutes. You tried to listen to the conversations that you could hear from the diner but it was too fuzzy to make sense of any of the words, and your heartbeat was too loud in your ears. 

Your gaze landed on Hyunjin’s backpack. Somewhere in there was the painting he made for you. And there was also the painting he made of you. You wondered if he also painted Dara, today, while on the boat. 

You wondered what he was telling her the other day when he was on the phone with her.

“When I bought the paints and stuff for you,” you started before you could think this over, “I wanted to give them to you. I mean, in person.” 

Hyunjin looked up from his precious ice cream, staring into your eyes, but saying nothing. 

“I went to your RV,” you went on. “Minho was disappointed I didn’t make it to breakfast,” you added, recalling that moment. “I—uh—I went to give you the bag. He said you were by the river. But you were on the phone, and it seemed important. I didn’t want to bother you, so I left it with him.” 

Maybe he knew that this was some sort of invitation to speak—Hyunjin nodded slowly, faintly, more for himself than for you, and ate more of his ice cream quietly as the sounds of the night took over the forest. 

“Do you remember what I told you the other night?” Hyunjin began, looking up at the sky. There weren’t too many stars yet—it was too early for that. 

Not only did you remember, but you had thought about it enough that you figured you had put many pieces of the puzzle in their place. But you weren’t going to tell him that. “I remember. It was about Dara?” 

Hyunjin took a deep but shaky breath. He forced more ice cream into his mouth. “Yes. I was talking to her.” 

You didn’t pretend to be surprised. “Is she somebody you work with? Do you have to talk to her often?” After all, you had to work with Christopher every day, didn’t you? Maybe it would hurt a little less if you didn’t.

“I don’t work with her, I guess,” Hyunjin explained. “It’s more like… our studios are next door.” He sighed. “We see each other every day. We collaborate on projects all the time. She’s my friend.” 

You almost dropped your cup of ice cream, managing to steady your grip on it at the last second. You found yourself completely unsettled by Hyunjin’s revelation. You hadn’t really expected that. Well, you expected something, sure, since he was talking to her on the phone. But not this. Not like this. Not she’s my friend in the present tense.

“And you’re able to be her friend after what happened between you two?” you asked softly, suddenly concerned for Hyunjin’s well-being, even though you weren’t sure what had happened exactly.

“I was her friend before I fell in love with her. It’s hard to explain.” Hyunjin left his half-eaten dessert on the ground next to the bench, sitting with his knees pressed to his chest. 

You gave him the space he needed, aware that you had probably pushed a little too hard. It was none of your business anyway, was it? And yet. 

You had told him so little about Judith and it had opened a whole new dimension for you. A part of you really, really wanted to do the same for Hyunjin. If you could somehow manage such a feat.

“I don’t want to insist,” you told him. “But if you want to talk to someone—I can be that someone. I want to be. I know it’s difficult to talk.”

“It’s not difficult with you. I like talking with you,” Hyunjin replied. You couldn’t see his mouth as it was hidden behind his knees. “I just… I don’t even know where to start. And it’s not like I haven’t told the story before. I have. I went to therapy because of it.”

“Didn’t it help?” you questioned, trying to focus on the latter part of his sentence and not the first, so as not to melt into a puddle.

He shrugged. “Yes. No. I went for months and talked about Dara plenty, but all that my therapist would focus on was me. He said the reason I wasn’t getting over her was because I had other, deeper issues we needed to address. I didn’t like that.”

You thought about it for a second and it appeared to you clear as day. “You didn’t like that because he made it—your sadness—not about Dara anymore?”

Hyunjin inhaled sharply, apparently surprised by your response. He pressed his mouth onto his thighs, closing his eyes, disappearing behind his hair momentarily. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled, almost strained.

“It felt like it was all I had left of our love. The pain. The longing. And he wanted to take it away from me by making it about other things. So I stopped going.” 

It was instantaneous—your throat shut tight and your eyes tingled with tears that you fought to hold back. It hurt to hear him say those words. It hurt for him and it hurt for you. 

Because what else was left of your love story with Chris if not for that? The pain? Were you holding onto that pain because it was all that you had? Even if it was going to kill you? 

You discarded your ice cream, leaving it in the pebbled soil at your feet, reaching a trembling hand towards Hyunjin. You had no idea what the fuck you were going to do with that hand. You wanted it in his hair, caressing it, tucking a strand of it behind his ear to reveal his deep and soulful gaze. You wanted to cup his cheek and caress his silky skin. Something was calling you to him—something inside of you that you did not know how to control. 

But, gently, you rested your hand on his back. He jumped—just a little recoil because he was surprised—but leaned into your touch, moving closer to you until your entire arm was around his back. Each inch of your skin that touched him was immediately ignited and hyperaware, awake in the night. 

“Minho was pissed,” Hyunjin went on, sniffling. You couldn’t see whether he was crying or not and maybe it was for the best. It might just break you if you saw tears on his almost too-handsome face. “Because he was the one who got me to see his psychiatrist. He was worried about me.” 

“That’s because he cares about you though,” you pointed out. 

“I know. But he doesn’t understand,” Hyunjin mumbled, playing with one of his shoelaces, keeping his hand busy. “He thinks I shouldn’t be friends with her anymore. He suggested that I should cut ties with Dara completely during the trip. To see how it feels.” 

You would know a thing or two about not letting go. 

You took a deep breath, unsure of what you should say next. Perhaps it was best not to say anything. Maybe—no, definitely—the best, most reasonable option for you right now would be to come up with some comforting words for Hyunjin and call it a night. Tell him to get some rest, that sleep would do him good. Then drive home, and go to bed, too.

But Marlene kept liquor in the walk-in cooler. Away from prying eyes—only a few privileged individuals knew where it was, and you were among them.

“Do you want a drink?” you heard yourself say, barely audible enough to be heard over the steady sound of the river. “I know a place.”

At this, Hyunjin reappeared from behind his knees, staring at you with damp eyes. “A drink?” 

“I owe you one after all, but we don’t have to.”

“You really don’t owe me anything.” And yet. Gradually, Hyunjin returned to a more normal sitting position. He wiped the corner of his eye with the back of his hand. “But I could use a drink. It was a long day.” 

A smile sneaked its way onto your lips. It was a gift sent from that thing that you could not control within you, hidden in some secret corner. You gathered the mostly melted ice creams and discarded them in appropriate bins and guided Hyunjin back near the diner, explaining how Marlene liked to keep a good bottle of Hennessy or a fancy scotch around for dire situations.

“A woman of refined taste, this Marlene,” Hyunjin commented. It felt good to see him smiling again. “You never know when you need to get wasted.”

“Indeed.” It seemed wise to avoid the dining room and the staff—in other words, Chris—and go through the back door. “It’ll just be a minute, okay?”

“Take your time. I’ll text Minho to let him know I haven’t been kidnapped.” With that, Hyunjin pulled his phone out of his pocket and walked away, aimlessly, typing on the screen of his device. 

You used your master key to enter the kitchen directly. From here, the conversation was loud and clear, and you heard Jake, Marlene, and Stacy discuss one of the new hiking trails that had been opened in the state park right next door. Jake was very interested in it and was telling the two women about an upcoming one-day trip to the park with Christopher, Jeongin, Summer, and a few more people. It seemed to you like it had been planned just now, right after you had left. 

You stood in the dark and quiet kitchen, knowing you did not need to hear any more of this and yet waiting. Maybe you wanted to hear the excitement in Christopher’s voice, but all that you heard was Summer asking Frankie—who had apparently joined them—if he thought Lucy would want to come too. Maybe Chris had already left for the staff house, where he usually stayed. To keep an eye on things from a little closer, but mostly so he could avoid you more easily. It just gave him a good excuse not to stay in the same house as you too often.

You gathered all of the courage you had—which wasn’t all that much—and made your way to the dining room, standing in the door frame, eyeing the scene before letting anyone see you. He wasn’t there. Chris. You cleared your throat softly and it was Stacy who saw you first, and Marlene second, followed by the others. You couldn’t read the expression on Summer’s face, but you wished you could. It would make it a lot easier for you.

“Sorry to interrupt—” you started, stammering through your words a little. “Marlene, I just wanted to know if I could borrow some sugar?” It was the code you had come up with for the liquor she kept.

The corner of Marlene’s lips curved into a lopsided smile. “Sure thing, honey. You know where it is. Take as much as you need, but be careful not to overdo it. You’ll get diabetes” 

“I’ll be careful,” you promised. “Can I grab the fancy one? I’ll get you a replacement.” Jake also knew about the Hennessy—he suppressed a chuckle by swallowing a generous amount of beer. 

“Make yourself at home,” Marlene insisted with a wink. 

You thanked her and did your best to wish everyone a good evening as warmly as you could, but it was always about not overdoing it. It was hard to tell when you did. When Frankie inquired Did your friend like the ice cream? You assured him that he very much did, of course. Thank you so much Frankie, and make sure to call if you need anything. 

The Hennessy was exactly where it was supposed to be—on the highest shelf in the walk-in cooler, hidden in a small crate that once contained bell peppers. Marlene just put more stuff on top and nobody paid it any mind. You shoved the bottle in a tote bag you found in Marlene’s office. The whole thing took less than two minutes and you exited as quickly as you entered, relieved to put as much distance as you could between you and this place. For some reason.

The sounds of the night had increased in volume again—there were more frogs now, and among them was the loudest and your favorite—the gray treefrog, whose thrill-like breeding call was eerily similar to a bird’s voice. They were hard to spot, and you had seen those frogs just a handful of times in your life, but you enjoyed their musical display, which was also how you could tell that summer had definitely begun. 

It did not stop you from hearing Hyunjin’s voice. At first, you thought he was still on the phone. But then you heard the bell from the main entrance to the diner, and more voices. Most importantly, Christopher’s.

“Ah, boss! There you are,” Jake said. “We were starting to wonder if you ghosted us or something.”

“Sorry for keeping you,” Hyunjin immediately interjected. “I should go anyway—” He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he let it float somewhere in the air, allowing the frogs and the owls to fill the silence.

“Oh no, I shouldn’t be keeping you from going back home and resting after your long day! It was nice meeting you.” You could almost hear Chris shake Hyunjin’s hand. “Careful on your way back, yeah? I know some parts of the pedestrian paths aren’t great over the RV sites, but we’ll get to fixing them in the upcoming weeks.”

Hyunjin coughed nervously. “Sure, yeah, yeah, thanks, Christopher. Goodnight!” Two things became simultaneously obvious to you.

That Hyunjin had told Chris he was going home instead of telling him that he was going to hang out and have drinks with you.

And also that Hyunjin was a terrible, terrible liar. 

The warmth that Hyunjin seemed to constantly elicit in you came back ferociously, spreading from your chest to your belly like an oil tanker spilled into an ocean, making the air in your lungs hot and thick. But sweet, too. There was nothing to hide and Hyunjin could and probably should have told him where he was going, and with whom. 

You remembered the painting. Not the one he gave you—the other one. The one that gave you chills, that made you press your thighs together. It was stupid because his heart belonged to another. It was stupid because you were married and because you were broken. You were the kind of broken that wasn’t even worth taking to the repair shop. You were the kind of broken that nothing could be done for, or with, or about. 

You did not like the part of you that was greedy—that part was urging you to make yourself seen, to make sure that Chris would know you would be with Hyunjin. But what would you even gain? Because even if he felt the same thing you felt when he was with Summer, would it make a difference? You weren’t even jealous. Not anymore. You weren’t jealous because Summer was prettier and younger than you. It had taken you a while but you had even stopped being jealous of how happy she made Chris. Some days, you really just wanted to beg him to please just fuck her and put an end to your misery already. 

That would be too ugly of you. Chris didn’t need that. Not after what he had gone through. 

So you stayed put, listening as the main group walked away. At this hour, the camping ground was mostly quiet and empty—on the first days of the season, especially the sunny ones, people hurriedly did as many outdoor activities as they could, meaning that by this hour most of them were probably sound asleep. 

Hyunjin quietly reappeared after turning the corner of the building, his backpack on his shoulders and his hair secured in a tighter bun. He seemed ready for an adventure, but he stopped and stood there, facing you, and you stood with your back pressed to the wooden wall behind you, staring into the man’s eyes, which were as beautiful as the night around you. You didn’t tell him, you almost said.  

But you didn’t tell him. 

So that made two of you.

Hyunjin motioned at the tote bag whose handles rested on your shoulder. “You got the stuff?” 

You nodded. “Let’s go.” You wasted no time, regretting your choice of footwear and overall fashion decisions as you made your way towards one of the unpaved paths that circled the camping ground.

Most of these were surrounded by more densely wooded areas or tree lines. Chris wouldn’t need it because he knew all the trails by heart, but you used your phone to light up the ground just to make sure neither of you would trip over something. There wasn’t much conversation while you walked, except for when Hyunjin cursed under his breath because a mosquito got him. Two seconds later, you heard the zipper of his backpack and then the vigorous spraying of bug repellent, its strong and potent scent reaching you. 

“Is your blood tasty, Mr. Hyunjin?” you asked, looking over your shoulder, suppressing a smile as Hyunjin was shoving the bug spray back in his bag. 

“I’m a Michelin-starred restaurant,” he replied, scoffing, visibly displeased. “Minho said he liked having me on the boat because I attract mosquitoes and it’s good for fish. He called me live bait all day.” 

Your own laughter took you by surprise—it spilled into the night as clear as the moonlight, echoing in the silence. You couldn’t remember the last time you had actually laughed like this, a true laugh. A laugh that didn’t come at a price, that didn’t need to be exchanged for something else, tears, excuses, or even shame.

Just a laugh because something was funny.

The silence that followed it was heavy and you realized it was so because you had stopped in your tracks. Hyunjin, who was close behind you, had also stopped. You were just stunned by this new feeling in your chest but Hyunjin seemed to believe there was another, bigger problem.

“Everything alright? Did you see something? Are there bears out here? Wolves?” 

“Bears?” You turned to him. “Wolves?”

He seemed a little nervous. “Yeah?” 

“Of course there are bears, but now’s not the worst of the season,” you replied as though it was evident, meaning for it to be reassuring. Only Hyunjin did not seem relieved to hear that at all. “They only really bother humans when they get ready to hibernate. There are no wolves in Maine though,” you added, certain this would comfort him.

Hyunjin’s uneasiness was visible even in the dark. You bit your lip, savoring the mild pleasure you got from the sight of him, but quickly went to put an end to his fears. “You can worry about the mosquitoes more than you should worry about bears,” you concluded. “I haven’t seen one on these premises in two years.”

That did it—Hyunjin gulped thickly but gave you a resolute nod before the two of you resumed your walk. The world fell quiet again, the way nature was silent, which was to say, not at all. Exactly the way you liked it. 

“Where are you taking me?” Hyunjin inquired after a few minutes, trying to see through the tree line and recognize your location in the campground. 

“Not too far from here,” you assured. “There’s this nice little place by the river and—” Your sentence was cut in the middle when you felt something cool and wet and tiny on your shoulder. 

Worried once again, Hyunjin squinted, turning his phone light on too. “What is it?” 

“Ah, shit—” you mumbled, locking eyes with him, unsure whether you should laugh or not. Another raindrop fell on your arm, quickly followed by another on your leg as you remembered the weather forecast on the radio earlier, which your brain had conveniently made you forget. 

A raindrop landed on Hyunjin’s lip and you followed it with your gaze the same way a sinner begs for holy water. More rain fell on your cheeks and you stood as Hyunjin watched it roll on your skin like tears would. A slight frown had appeared on his face, as though he was taking a few seconds to process what he was seeing. 

Hyunjin, unhurried, handsome, so tangible and so close, raised his hand then, bringing it near your face, gently pressing his index finger onto your cheek to collect a raindrop. His touch lit a wildfire inside of you that no deluge could put out. “It’s raining,” he said, his deep, expressive gaze fixated on the drop he had stolen from you, but not for long because he looked into your eyes then. “It’s okay,” he added with a smile, offering you his hand. “Come with me.” 

He was a stranger. 

But he shared the blood of your favorite painter, the one who created your favorite painting in the whole world. It was your favorite long before you knew it was a prophecy, or perhaps an omen. Maybe you should have known. You should have opened your eyes before instead of being so rational all the time and taking everything at face value. 

Maybe you should have realized long ago that life has a voice and that it uses it to speak to us. Some call it fate or destiny. Some call it God. You weren’t sure what you called it, or what you thought it was. You just knew that it had been there the whole time, like a thread weaving the events of your life together. Everything that had ever happened to you had led you to this. 

Hyunjin was a stranger. 

But you knew about the cracks in his heart, and he knew about the void in yours. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled in the sky, and you felt it in your chest, no matter how far the storm was. 

You took Hyunjin’s hand. His skin was smooth and warm, like honey left in the sun for too long. He squeezed your hand a little, leaning in closer to you so he could be heard over the rain, which was gaining in intensity. 

“Where are we exactly? If we want to get to the RV? Is it far?” he asked, pulling away to see your reaction. 

You were shocked by everything that had happened in the last thirty seconds and by Hyunjin’s sweet warm breath that tickled your skin. It took you longer than it should have to give him a response. “No, not too much,” you managed, your voice higher than usual. “If we follow this path, the RV site is at the end of the road on the right.” 

“Alright, let’s go.” Taking the lead, Hyunjin started again, illuminating the path like he had never feared bears would maul him. One might believe he thought that rain was lethal to you or something, with how determined he was. 

The more it rained, the faster you walked, and the tighter Hyunjin held onto you. Or maybe it was you who held onto him, you couldn’t say. You passed the opening that led to the little spot by the river that you liked, promising yourself to visit it soon. Also trying to focus on anything but what was happening. You had to buy milk, and maybe eggs too. You’d definitely need fabric softener. Yeah, you would have to go to the grocery store tomorrow. You’d also go see your father, but there would undoubtedly be a lot of things to do on the campground, as was always the case after a good rainfall. 

Hyunjin caught you just in time when you slipped in the mud—by then, you were completely soaked. He saved you from a nasty fall. After that, you made sure to look where you were going and to stop thinking about everything and anything. 

But then that meant the other thoughts didn’t stop.

What the fuck am I doing here? What am I doing? Where am I going? Why am I running in the rain with a guy I barely know who's… how many years younger than me exactly? Seven, eight years? More? More, I think. What the fuck are people going to say? Is my dress see-through now? Oh god I think so. Fuck. I should have worn the dark one instead. My hair probably looks like shit too. But who cares? Who cares what I look like? It’s not like he’s taking me back to his RV because he’s trying to get into my pants. And even if he was—WHICH HE IS NOT BY THE WAY! EVEN IF HE PAINTED ME. HE’S JUST AN ARTIST—I’m married. I’m married to a man who does not love me anymore but I’m married anyway. I’m married to a man who I know doesn’t want to be with me anymore but refuses to divorce me out of respect for me and our relationship and maybe out of respect for our daughter too. What the fuck am I doing here? How did I get here? 

It just kept going until you reached the motorhome shared by Hyunjin and Minho. It was completely dark inside, and while you were in a hurry to get out of the very cold rain, you became self-conscious.

“I don’t want to wake him up,” you told Hyunjin as he was searching his pocket for the key.

“Don’t worry. If it’s raining, he’s outside sleeping in a tent,” Hyunjin replied with a shrug. His hair had come undone and was completely drenched. “He likes the sound of the rain.” 

He unlocked the door and let you in first—knowing this RV well after having done a maintenance run on it, you turned on the kitchenette lights on your left, leaving enough space for Hyunjin to come in and close the door behind him while you were getting rid of your mud-soaked sandals.

As soon as the door was closed, the rain became a muffled noise, distant, barely real. Out of breath, you leaned on the counter to catch your air—it had been a long time since you ran for that long, especially in those conditions. You looked to your left to make sure that Hyunjin was fine, but as soon as your eyes met his, the two of you froze. 

It was eerily quiet here. The RV was huge—it was meant to accommodate up to four people very comfortably and six if they wanted to squeeze in there a little. Yet he was right there. Hyunjin. He smelled like bug spray and petrichor and mud and strawberries. His hair was pure chaos—wet, messy, all over the place—but it took nothing away from his effortless beauty. Your heart skipped a few beats. It was because of all the running and not because his shirt was sticking to him like a second skin, exposing a lean and toned body, hinting at enough muscle to make you avert your gaze and blush. 

“I forgot it was supposed to rain, but in my defense, they said it would be later into the night,” you said to diffuse whatever weight was falling from your chest to your stomach. It did not work—the feeling lingered. And descended even lower.

Hyunjin was silent. He had removed his backpack and left it in a safe corner and was staring at anywhere except you. A little—or very—self-consciously, you did your best to smooth out your hair. 

“I’ll take this,” Hyunjin said all of a sudden, reaching for the tote bag on your shoulder and handing you a dry towel in exchange. There was one hanging around his neck already. “Uh…” He cleared his throat, his eyes dancing once again, struggling to stay fixated on yours. For one second, maybe two, but no more, he looked at you below the neck. “Maybe you’d want a warm shower? And clothes?” 

You took the towel from him, blushing violently. It felt as though your brain couldn’t even function properly. You, also, struggled to look him in the eyes. Did you absolutely want a shower right now? No. But did you want to be alone for like five minutes?

Yes. 

“O—Okay, well, I’ll wash up, y—yeah,” you managed, stammering your way through your sentence. “Thanks.” You gulped, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I don’t think you’ll have clothes for me.” He was just so lean. And long. 

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t,” Hyunjin retorted as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He guided you towards the bathroom and you followed him, eyes to the floor, thanking him again, reminding him you knew how everything worked when he tried to explain the shower functions. The bathroom was tiny but fully equipped—this RV unit was the campground’s last big purchase and its most luxurious. To think that Minho had rented it for the entire season… 

“I’ll leave clothes here by the door,” Hyunjin told you. “The towels are in the cabinet, help yourself. There are a few combs in there too, for your hair.” 

You barely gave him an answer as you had just come face to face with the mirror. Your hair was not the problem. The problem wasn’t even the dark circles under your eyes from your sleepless nights, or your chapped lips from biting at them too much. 

The problem was your soaked dress and how it stuck to your skin and how it had turned see-through for the most part and that you could see your black lace bra underneath. You buried your face into your hands, properly humiliated. Rookie move. This was what you got for hanging out with a guy who looked like a young god, no less. Hyunjin was the kind of person who just couldn’t have a fashion faux pas—everything would always look good on him. For instance, his wet T-shirt made him look like he was straight out of an alluring magazine ad for some fancy fragrance.

And here you were with your stupid fucking off-white dress with a black bra underneath because you forgot to do your laundry and it was all that you had. The dress stuck to your curves in a way that made you look like anything but a magazine ad. As you stared into that mirror, you could see nothing of the woman Hyunjin had painted in watercolors. She was a version of you that didn’t exist.

You turned on the shower, angrily at first, swallowing back tears and shame and planning the perfect escape. You would tell Hyunjin thank you so, so much for the shower and the dry clothes but you couldn’t stay. You had to go right now. He’d probably want to walk you back and you’d have to be firm and insist and say no. He was just a very, very nice guy. You had no reason to be associated with him whatsoever. He probably just pitied you because of what you told him that other night, about Judith. 

Yes. That was it. 

So you toweled yourself dry and found a dry pair of gray sweatshorts by the door, along with a loose tank top and a zip-up hoodie. Hyunjin had even provided you with a bag for any clothing items you wished to discard.

I’m really sorry, I had a phone call and I have to go, you rehearsed in your head as you were getting dressed. To your surprise, the sweatshorts fit comfortably. Thank you so much for everything, I’ll make sure to get the clothes back to you tomorrow. Oh no, no it’s perfectly fine, you stay right here. I insist. I—

Your mind went blank the moment you put on the tank top. The fabric was soft, the shirt was nice and high-quality. But most importantly, it smelled like Hyunjin. Like roses dipped in golden sunsets. Like spice-infused oud. Like smoke, like amber. It made you freeze in place, inhaling a lot more air than you needed, or should. It was a little tighter in certain places but it felt more like a hug than anything else.

Hyunjin’s voice brought you back to reality like tripping over a goddamn canyon. “Is everything alright?”

You cleared your throat. “Yes, yes, it’s all good—thank you, I’m fine, I—” One glance at the mirror confirmed that you probably should have put on your very wet bra underneath the tank top but instead you chose to wrap yourself in the hoodie, which was even softer than the shirt and smelled even more like Hyunjin, almost as though he had worn it at least once without washing it. 

I need to get out of here. Fuck. 

You pulled the door open and your plans completely fell through. 

Hyunjin was busy getting the back room ready. It was normally the master bedroom but you could tell from his and Minho’s setup that they used it as some sort of living room and instead slept in the bunk beds. He was placing pillows onto it and the bottle of Hennessy was on the shelf behind the bed/couch, with two glasses nearby, waiting for you. 

“There you are,” he said with a smile when he caught sight of you. “Are you comfortable with the clothes? I have more. We can hang your dress to dry in the kitchen if you want but I don’t think it’ll dry anytime soon…” 

“It’s all very comfortable.” Nothing about the way Hyunjin spoke to you made you feel self-conscious about yourself and the way you looked. He really just wanted to make sure the clothes were comfy. His question had nothing to do with the size of the clothes. “Don’t worry about the dress, I’ll wash it at home.” 

“I’ll shower too, but I insist that you make yourself at home. Fridge, food, anything,” he told you for the second time. “There are books by my bed if you want, and the TV remote is here.” He handed it to you. “I’ll be right back.”

Not two minutes ago, you were planning your escape. And now you found yourself sitting on this makeshift couch with a TV remote in your hand, facing a black screen because you hadn’t turned it on, listening to the sounds of the running shower coming from the tiny bathroom a few feet away. Hyunjin had cracked open a window by the couch and you also heard the thunder, realizing that it was noticeably closer than it had been before. You listened to the rain as it fell onto what you were certain was Minho’s tent. 

For an instant, just a few seconds, you were transported back to your childhood. To that one summer night Chris tried to get you to go camping with him in his backyard and you wanted nothing to do with that. It’ll rain! It’ll be so cool, come on! And of course you went. And of course you stayed for about ten minutes before both Chris and you decided it was best to sleep indoors because the wind was scary. 

You sighed—but first, you took a deep breath, inhaling more of Hyunjin’s scent, and it seemed to evaporate most of your brain functions. Except for the one that was responsible for making you notice that the stitching of the crotch on the sweatshorts was pressing at certain places. In certain ways. In certain pleasant ways. 

I’m so sorry Hyunjin, but while you were showering, I had a phone call and I’m gonna have to go. But thank you so much and thank you so much for the painting too. It’s just that it’s my father and I don’t want to leave him alone. Over the years, you had become such a good liar. So good that, often, you yourself couldn’t even tell whether you were telling the truth or not. So this wouldn’t be a problem. You just needed to—

It seemed you had remained lost in your thoughts for longer than you believed because Hyunjin reappeared, sporting shorts and a long-sleeved gray tee. He was squeezing his hair dry with the towel, but little drops of water had stained the shirt around the collar. There was something incredibly soft about him at that moment—maybe it was just the warm lighting or the dewy aspect of his post-shower skin. 

In any case.

You didn’t go anywhere.

“There’s a phone charger to your left,” he said, motioning towards the cord in question. “I—Uh—I mean, I suppose… people would be looking for you and wondering if you’re okay.” 

You blinked, staring at him like you had never seen him before. Everything just felt so different—only yesterday, that statement would have elicited a deep sadness from you, no doubt. It was still there, you could feel it. It’s not like it had disappeared overnight. But there were so many other things alongside it that it was drowning.

You scoffed, shaking your head, still connecting your phone to the cord. “Nobody is looking for me, Hyunjin. It’s fine.” 

He stood near the not-couch, visibly uncomfortable. You could almost feel his eyes drilling a hole into your ring finger. You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what—or rather, who—this conversation was about. 

“He’s not going to wander the campground and desperately search for me all night if that’s what you’re wondering,” you murmured. “This isn’t the kind of relationship we have anymore.” Fully sober? I dropped that lore fully sober? Really? “Hey, let’s have drinks, yeah?” 

“I bet he will want to know where you are,” Hyunjin insisted, dimming the lights before making his way to the liquor and unscrewing the bottle open. “That’s just why I wanted you to know you could charge your phone. Here.” He handed you a glass that was a little too full of liquor but you gladly took it from him. 

You could have told my husband where I was going and yet you did not. But the thoughts remained on your tongue and you swallowed them like a bitter pill, chasing them with the cognac. 

“Don’t try to deflect,” you said, squinting, waving an accusing finger at Hyunjin as he was sitting down next to you. “We agreed to pause our earlier conversation and continue it with drinks someplace else. The conversation was about you,” you added. “So let’s resume.”

Hyunjin’s response was instantaneous—save for the exaggerated scoff he let out before. “Sorry, but I’ll remind you that the only thing I agreed to was drinks!” 

You turned to him, falsely offended, eyebrows raised, and exactly one second passed before the two of you burst out laughing. You had to press a hand over your lips to muffle the sound and make sure not to wake Minho who, after all, was sleeping right next to the window. 

The laughter died out, blending with the thunder. You drank more, letting the liquor smooth out the parts of you that were too sharp. It warmed up your throat nicely. It made you wonder how it would feel to be kissed passionately. With purpose, with lust. You had forgotten those feelings, but drinking the fancy cognac reminded you of tasting yourself on lips that uttered your name fondly.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, coughing faintly after emptying his glass a little too quickly. “Seriously though. There’s nothing to say.” 

“I doubt that.” You hesitated, staring at the bottom of your glass, swirling the rest of the cognac in it. “You know, when I went to give you the paints and stuff? I heard that you were on the phone. I get now that it was with her, and you sounded… agitated. Upset.” You finished your cognac for good measure, keeping the empty glass in your hand just to have something to hold onto while Hyunjin’s gaze was on the black TV screen in front of him. “I don’t know the situation and I don’t want to say that Minho’s right, but if it’s a recurring thing. That your friendship with Dara makes you sad and upset. Maybe keeping a little distance between you two wouldn’t be a bad thing.” 

The silence was deafening, louder than the thunder outside. You regretted your words instantly, wondering if they had been spoken out of greed. Greed, after all, often comes disguised as something noble, like concern. Maybe you just wanted less of Hyunjin’s attention on Dara. Maybe you were the most selfish person you knew, and everything you had ever done had been calculated to benefit from it in some way. 

You knew it couldn’t possibly be true. You knew reality was more nuanced than this. And yet, the whispers in your head were relentless. It was that same greed that had launched the chain of events causing the death of your daughter, so maybe you should have learned your lesson by now. 

“I only meant—” you started, but Hyunjin shook his head, raising his hand.

“I know what you meant,” he cut you off. “The reason I was upset is stupid. And inconsiderate. Selfish. It’s not her fault.”

“I know a thing or two about selfishness.” You made yourself a little more comfortable with your back leaning on the wall near the window so that you would face Hyunjin. He was half lying on the makeshift couch, propped on several pillows. “I don’t think you’re inconsiderate. You’re the opposite of inconsiderate.” 

“Something really cool happened to her. I should have been happy for her, right? Well, I was. I am happy for her. But my first reaction was to be offended that she told me nothing about the project before. It’s not the first time she does something without me. Obviously. I don’t expect her to do everything with me or to tell me all about every single one of her projects. But this… it feels different.”

He grabbed the cognac and poured himself more, glancing at your glass inquisitively. You handed it to him so he could refill it. It had been a while since you had more than just a beer or a glass of wine to drink—you’d need to stop after this one.

“She submitted a few paintings to an art gallery. They gave her a few spots to expose,” Hyunjin explained. “Which is so cool. And I’m so happy for her.” He took two sips of liquor. “She never told me about any of this. I was still in Seoul when she had the idea behind the series of paintings. I was still in the studio next to hers when she painted them. I was still right there when she submitted them. But I learned about it when I saw a reel about it in her Stories.” 

His voice was muted. His voice was more like the ghost of a voice—there was something terribly heartbreaking to it. It made you want to hold him in your arms. Because you understood. You knew what it felt like to lose that closeness with somebody that was once your everything. You start to realize you’ve made a mistake—you start to realize you put too much of your own heart into theirs. You also realize it was inevitable, but that you can’t get those parts of your soul back. 

“I’d say you’re entitled to being upset,” you murmured, tilting your head to the side. It caused a dizzy spell for which the cognac was definitely to blame, so you closed your eyes for a few seconds. It gave you some time to think things over. It also gave you some time to realize that you were feeling the effects of the liquor in you. “Did you guys fight?”

“No, not really. I didn’t want her to know I was upset. But these situations have been happening more and more between us. It’s difficult.” He stared through the tinted window behind you, maybe looking at the lightning strikes in the distance. “When I have ideas like these. I just tell her. You know? I like telling her about my stuff. And when she tells me about hers.” 

For an instant, you imagined that you were Hyunjin and that Dara was Christopher—it all became obvious then. Clear as day. You may not know their story entirely and it may be different from yours, but at the end of the day, it was all the same. It was always the same. In most relationships, at a given time, there would be someone who loved the other more. It was like an old balance scale trying to find equilibrium except it never did. It never really would. It wasn’t supposed to. Love wasn’t supposed to be equal anyway.

But for Hyunjin, that love was getting tiresome. Because he kept holding the weight of it while simultaneously adding more load onto it to make it substantial. To make it something. You had done that for a while too, with Chris. It was like adding logs into a fireplace while letting the flames lick you and burn you, over and over. Trying so hard just so he would still love you. Just so he would love you again. All that love going nowhere. Lost, forever. 

Except Hyunjin was also a lot like Christopher, and so you understood Dara’s perspective, or at least you thought you did. Chris, wherever he went, was loved. He was noticed. Remembered. He was somebody. 

You were not.

“Hyunjin,” you started carefully, hoping you wouldn’t offend him. “Maybe she just needs to do something on her own. To prove to herself that she can do it. You know?”

“She knows she can. She’s a better painter than I am, she doesn’t even deny it,” Hyunjin insisted. “I feel so weird inside. I think it’s working. What she’s doing.”

“What is she doing?” you asked, putting your empty glass on the shelf, deciding it would remain empty because your skin was warm and your thoughts fuzzy. 

“She’s keeping me away. Emotionally I mean,” Hyunjin explained. He finished his drink and put his glass next to yours before laying down again, on his back this time. 

He stretched a little, exposing a sliver of skin between his shorts and his shirt and shivers went down your spine. You decided to keep your eyes closed but it was too late—you couldn’t unsee what you had seen. And you were under the influence enough to wonder what it would feel like to kiss Hyunjin there. Or maybe just brush your fingers on his skin, feeling his toned body under your touch. Or under you.

“It’s kind of a vicious circle,” he went on, completely oblivious to the commotion he had caused within you. “What happened between Dara and me affected me deeply. I never told her it was what made me so distressed, but I wonder if she knew, maybe. I sought comfort from her anyway. I felt alone. I still do. Even when I’m surrounded by crowds I feel so alone, so empty. Then I realized that I needed the comfort to come from her, or else it didn’t soothe me. Then I realized she wouldn’t give it to me anymore.” 

“Maybe she doesn’t give it because she knows you’re hiding feelings from her?” you suggested, but every new revelation by Hyunjin just hurt more and more. You swallowed back your tears, remembering those entire days when Chris used to ignore you—for his own sake—making you miserable in the process, only for you to need him to kiss you goodnight and hold you as you fell asleep. 

“I don’t think I’m hiding anything. I don’t think I can hide anything. I’m not very good at lying.” 

You couldn’t help letting out a faint laugh, no matter how out of place it was. You controlled it as best you could, biting into your lower lip and focusing on the conversation, but Hyunjin raised his head, staring at you with curiosity. “Did I say something funny?” 

It had been a very long time since you had consumed this much hard liquor, especially in such a short amount of time. “No, no—sorry, I just,” you stammered. “It’s—it’s true. You’re not a very good liar. I heard you speak to Chris earlier and… yeah. Sorry.” 

Hyunjin’s head returned to the pillows at the speed of light. He didn’t pretend not to understand what you were referring to. “I know it’s going to sound crazy, but I felt like he was questioning me. He asked me where I had spent the day, so I said fishing. He asked if I had painted anything. And where I was headed for the night. And I froze. It’s dumb.”

You put your hand in the narrow crack of the window just to feel the wind and the rain on your fingers for a few seconds. “Like I said. You’re not a very good liar.” 

Hyunjin clicked his tongue softly but it was not with annoyance. He took a deep breath, facing you again. “Well, what did you tell him?”

“Nothing at all.” The difference between Hyunjin and you was that you, on the other hand, were an excellent liar. You were just tired of pretending, and the facade collapsed once in a while. “It wouldn’t make a difference. I told you—we don’t have that kind of relationship anymore.”

“It might be a language barrier but I don’t know what you mean by that.” Hyunjin was only being polite because his English was excellent.

Nobody in the entire world knew the state of your marriage. You thought your father had his doubts—your in-laws probably did as well. Same with some of the Riverside employees and your friends in common. But your acting was convincing enough, you thought, that it told a solid story. 

Nobody expected a couple to remain the same amount of strong after what you two went through anyway, or just through the passage of time. So it just made sense. The honeymoon phase was over, so it was totally, completely, one hundred percent normal that Christopher spent most of his nights at the campground staff house and most of his days with a woman who was by far more fun and livelier and prettier than you. A woman who was still whole. 

A heavy fatigue took over you. It was sudden but not surprising—you found yourself lying down on the makeshift couch, letting the faint breeze cool you down. “You’re changing the subject again,” you mumbled.

“And you’re dodging.” 

“What do you want me to say?” No one knew. You weren’t sure that anybody was supposed to know, no matter how tempting it was to spill your sorrows.

There was a short silence followed by the sound of brushing fabric—you felt Hyunjin’s weight next to you as he moved and jumped a little when you opened your eyes to find him a lot closer than he had been seconds before. 

He gulped thickly. “I know what they say about couples who lose a—” Something made him stop there. Something that wasn’t greed. You just felt it in your bones that it wasn’t.

Your heart tightened in your chest. Like every time it was mentioned, you relived it in a few seconds. All of it. From the pregnancy test to the moment they put Judith’s dead body in your arms because they thought you should hold her anyway. For grief purposes. And everything after. And everything before, too.

“A baby,” you said for him, and it surprised you that you said it. “We lost a baby. Stillbirth. I knew something was wrong before we made it to the hospital but I was hoping it could be fixed somehow. That they would save her. I didn’t even want them to save me if it came to that.” You rolled on your side to face Hyunjin. “It still doesn’t quite feel real, sometimes.” 

The rain was still pattering on the tent outside the motorhome and on the tree leaves. On the roof. All over the night. That sound used to comfort you. Other things used to comfort you. But your mother was dead, and everything else reminded you of what you had lost. 

Except for the man lying on the bed next to you. Because it was a bed. Even though they sort of used it as a couch, it was still a mattress. A bed. You hadn’t even been in the same bed as Chris in months. Maybe it was because he was a new element in your life but Hyunjin wasn’t a grim reminder. 

He brought no somber recollections. His eyes were soft. And kind. He stared at you with them like you meant something to him even though that sounded impossible. His gaze was hazy with cognac and an entire day spent in the sun and sometimes it lingered over you in places that made your heart flutter. 

Maybe you felt safe with Hyunjin because he was broken, too. It didn’t need to be any more complicated than that. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, resting his hand between your faces. “I don’t think you ever get over that.”

“You don’t.” There was no point in denying it. “And it’s all my fault. I killed her.” You must have been drunker than you thought because you never thought you’d say those words out loud. 

Seeing that Hyunjin was staring at you with a confused expression on his face, you went on. Your voice was weak, hushed. He came closer to hear you better, his scent entering your lungs and colonizing you.

No more dodging.

“I had an abortion when I was seventeen. I let a boy touch me for the wrong reasons,” you explained, your voice shaking with cries, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “It never felt right to have the abortion but I was too scared to keep it. And then, later, when I was married…” You closed your eyes, a trembling breath escaping your lips. “Christopher was ready to have a baby right now but I wasn’t sure. I wanted to want it. And wanting to want something isn’t the same as just wanting it. It isn’t genuine desire. It jinxed it. I cursed it. Chris resents me, and he resents himself for resenting me. It was so hard on him. That’s why we don’t spend nights together anymore.”

Hyunjin inhaled sharply, ready to interrupt you, but you didn’t let him.

“I loved her immediately. Judith. When I found out I was pregnant, no matter how terrified I was and how unsure I had been seconds before. I can’t even explain it. It was the happiest I ever felt. I loved my body so much because it had a baby inside it. I loved Chris so much because he gave me a baby. I loved my parents for giving me life. I loved everything. And her—I loved this little thing inside of me unconditionally from the moment I knew it was there. Words can’t even describe it.”

“It’s not your fault. You talk like you were punished by higher forces for hesitating to have a baby. Fuck—be honest with me right now. Do you actually, literally believe that this all happened to you because you had an abortion when you were seventeen? Seventeen?”

You hid your face in a pillow. Or perhaps it was just to muffle the sound of your cries. Nobody else knew. You had told no one. 

“Let’s think for one instant that, somehow, what we feel does influence the things that happen to us,” Hyunjin offered. “Look at me, please.” When you didn’t move, he repeated it in an even softer voice. “Please. Look at me.” 

You flinched when he touched you but it was not out of fear or aversion, it was just that you weren’t used to tenderness. And there was a lot of it in the way he tucked a strand of your damp hair behind your ear before he gently nudged your head. “Please,” he said again. 

You wiped your face before you faced him. But you faced him. No one else knew. About Chris. About Judith. About the crazy thoughts in your head, which weighed so heavy on your heart.

You were here tonight. With him, this man that you barely knew and who barely knew you. Who knew you better than anybody else. And it was out of greed that you were. Out of despair.

“Even if it were the case,” he went on, his voice so full of compassion it stopped your tears on the spot. “I’m sure that your other, brighter feelings and thoughts outweighed the bad ones and would have prevented that tragedy.” 

Your response was instantaneous. “You don’t know that.”

“I know you enough to know you’re not a bad person. What happened isn’t on you. I’m sure you would be a great mom. And if you were my wife, I sure as fuck would give a damn where you spend the night.”

The conflicted feelings within you were starting to pile up dangerously, but whatever that last sentence had unleashed caused the wildest reaction—it made the tears reappear. It made your heart stop in your chest, and then it started again only it was way too fast this time. Uncontrollable, unsteady. You might just be having a heart attack. A wave of warmth was spilling onto you like a high tide, starting from the nape of your neck and reaching all the way to your fingertips, your belly, the small of your back, and your thighs. Between your thighs. You had no way to know for sure but you thought—and it was pathetic—that you were wet. 

It was hard to pinpoint what had done it. If it was just the proximity with Hyunjin or his alluring scent, or the few seconds where you caught a glimpse of his toned stomach earlier. Or when he hinted at your abilities at motherhood just now and uttered the words my wife while talking about you. It had been too long since anybody had given the semblance of a fuck about you. 

You closed your eyes again. To calm down.

The silence that followed was lengthy and not a true silence anyway. The rain was still falling and the storm was getting closer. Just like your father taught you, you counted the seconds between the lightning flashes and the thunder that ensued, dividing the result by 5 to get an approximation of the distance of the storm. It was near but it would probably not pass right over Riverside. It was difficult to concentrate on the numbers anyway because you kept being distracted by Hyunjin’s breathing. It was deep and soothing and comforting the way the wind was comforting when you were in the safety of a warm, secure home.

“Do you still love him? Christopher?” he asked out of nowhere. The storm was about two miles away to the East. 

“I grew up with him. Here, in Stormhaven, at Riverside. He’s my best friend.” You thought that was obvious enough, but just in case, you added, “I’ll always love him. Like you’ll always love Dara.”

“It’s not the same thing.” 

“It’s not the same thing but it is,” you retorted. “Different friendship, different situation, same result. Am I wrong?” 

He didn’t give you an answer but you heard him shake his head negatively. “Well, does he love you?”

“Does Dara love you?”

“We’re not talking about me.” 

“We were very much talking about you, by the way.” The storm was one mile away. “It’s the same for him. He grew up with me. He’ll always love me somehow. But he’s miserable with me. He wants to fuck Summer.”

“Summer?” Then, immediately. “Ah, that girl, I bet.”

“The one he was sitting with at the diner, yes,” you explained. “I don’t blame him. She’s a great person. Like, honestly. They make a great pair. And have you seen her? She’s hot as hell.”

“The one who was wearing his hoodie the other night. I remember,” Hyunjin said in a dry, irritated tone. 

You chuckled, managing to open your eyes despite your head spinning a little more than you’d want it to. “Why are you mad?”

Hyunjin stared at you blankly. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen. Why are you mad?”

He rolled his eyes, tsking you. “Why was she wearing his hoodie? And why was he sitting with her tonight and not with you?”

“I’m literally wearing your clothes right now. And sitting with you. Horizontally. On a bed.”

“It’s a couch,” Hyunjin pointed out, motioning at the TV. “Doesn’t he realize that he’s holding you back? If he loved you—truly loved you, like a best friend would—he would let you go. A woman like you should be happy.” 

The storm was here. Not here here as in it did not hover the sky directly above you but it was too close for you to count the seconds between the flashes and the thunder, which vibrated within the walls of the motorhome. 

“This is a two-way thing.” You were so tired that you weren’t exactly sure any of this was happening. Maybe you were asleep. Maybe you had gone home directly after dinner and this was all a dream. Some fucked up dream. “I’m not letting him go either.”

“Why not?” Hyunjin touched you again. Your wrist this time, then your hand, squeezing it. You pressed your thighs together as blood rushed between your legs again. Stupid. Ridiculous. It was time you brought back your faithful vibrator from its retirement—this was nothing more than a physical reaction to a lack of something. “I’m not telling you to dump him,” he added. “But either you guys need to make it work or just let it go. You’re hurting yourselves. Are you sure he hasn’t fucked her already? That girl?” 

“I’m sure. He would never.” He might have done what you were doing right now though. He might have spent a night with her. On a couch. Just in her presence. If it were the case, you hoped it had made him very happy. “I don’t know how to let go. I never did that before. You’d be upset if someone told you to let go of Dara, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes. It’s not the same thing. We’re not married. She doesn’t want to love me. Do you think that Christopher wants to love you?”

There it was.

It all came down to that one question, didn’t it? All of it. All this time you knew what you were supposed to do but you didn’t do it because it scared you. Because you didn’t know what would happen to Riverside Campground. Because you didn’t know what you would do without it—because of course you’d let Chris have it in the divorce. 

You didn’t know who you were without him by your side. He had been there the whole time. Hunting frogs as children. Sneaking out as teens and smoking weed and pretending not to like each other. Adults doing their best. 

Here’s a truth so ugly no one ever wants to admit it to be real—you can do your best your whole life and it doesn’t mean it’ll work out. You can try your hardest and it doesn’t mean anything will come of it. You can love someone with your whole entire soul and it doesn’t mean you’ll be with them in the end. 

And it’s just like that.

Your silence, perhaps, was the loudest response you could have given. Hyunjin squeezed your hand a little tighter before he let go of it but it was only so he could grab a lightweight but soft blanket. “Get some sleep,” he whispered as he lay the blanket over you. 

Stay, you almost told him. But it felt like a dream. You thought you were dreaming because nothing felt the same as it used to. When you were searching for those anchor points within you, you knew they were there. The sorrow, the grief. But you couldn’t see them, the way you couldn’t see people’s faces or the corners of a room sometimes in a dream.

But you could say it now—the reason why you didn’t want to let go. You were afraid to let go of it because grief, truly, was all you had left of Judith. You didn’t have any memories with her except for the few months she was in your belly. She kicked at you from within. You’d sing her lullabies. She had the hiccups sometimes, usually in the middle of the night. This, your grief, and the silence in the delivery room when they pulled her out of you, was all you had of Judith. 

In your dream, Hyunjin said, I’m here. The rain was tapping steadily on the roof still and it lulled you into a deeper sleep, a barren, quiet one, the kind of sleep where the world stopped existing for an instant. 

You only woke once during the night, barely. 

The storm had faded, cooling the air—you felt the breeze from the window on your face and expected to feel cold, only you didn’t. You realized that there were two additional blankets over you. 

You opened your eyes. Barely. 

It was dark but you saw him anyway, Hyunjin, asleep on the other side of the bed. You remembered the common loons. You remembered the place where the river came to a rest, slowing down just for a moment, only to gain momentum again. And depth. And strength. Maybe the strength was never really gone even if you didn’t see it. It was just dormant.

Aloneness had been forced upon you long ago but maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to drown in it.

You fell asleep again, and your sleep was dreamless and peaceful. 

... to be continued.

↬ ✉️ Hello everyone! It's been a while, hasn't it?

I hope everyone has been doing okay 🤍

I didn't think this chapter would ever see the light of day. Actually, there was a long moment during which I thought I might or probably would never write again. It's very frightening when you realize that your own melancholy has drowned the fire inside you—but I suppose there was a spark somewhere. I did what I could with the chapter—if maybe you felt like it was different, or lackluster, I am sorry. Keep in mind that it is a battlefield, and it's quite bloody. I fought to keep writing. I want to keep writing. Writing is all that I have and all that I am.

Thank you to those who have waited for me. Thank you to those who wait for the other stories too. I'm so sorry I'm like that. I wish I were like the other writers and would post often. You guys are the best readers and I want to give you more. Thank you so much for being with me. Some of you have been there for years—this is special to me. I'm grateful, so grateful. No matter what happens to me or the fire inside me, please know that I'll never forget you, and your kindness, and your love.

Thank you so much, and thank you for keeping me around. Now, you guys better take care of yourselves, and eat your meals okay? All three of them!

PS: I will be answering the asks in my inbox today & tomorrow 🤍 sorry for the delay.

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AND OH ITS HARD TO LEAVE YOU, WHEN I GET YOU EVERYWHERE.

STRANGE DREAMS !

CHARACTERS ! incubus/demon!hyunjin, reader

GENRE ! horror, smut [minors dni]

WORDS ! 7.8k [more or less]

SYNOPSIS ! sometimes, you meet a strange man in your dreams. this is one of those times.

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! edible-fueled writing. horror [gore—body horror: descriptions of blood and mutilated bodies. frightening figures and situations. description of drowning. nightmares and sleep paralysis. demons, and thus], references to biblical lore [christianity] and small references to milton's paradise lost [if you squint], and smut [dubcon—sexual manipulation and sex pollen, sorta. d/s dynamics—predator versus prey. possession/corruption. vaginal and anal sex. pussy and face slapping. teasing. fingering. spit. squirting. face fucking. degradation. strength kink sorta. sex with a demon—in demon form. monster cock. lots of cum]

⚠️ if you’re sensitive to gore, be advised before reading. i tried to be tame and brief with descriptions, and although i consider it to be light gore, i understand everyone has their limits. so proceed with caution.

💌 posting this earlier than originally planned cuz why not!! got the idea for this fic a year ago after an edible. it’s very weird n self indulgent but i’m glad i finally finished it !! i hope someone enjoys it <3 i always appreciate feedback !!

You’re certain that it’s the sky you’re gazing into—though, you’re unsure because your vision is unclear, a milky haze clouding your pupils—but the longer you look at it, the more it spins and distorts, bringing on nausea that rises in waves from the pit of your stomach to the top of your head. The nausea brings on a discomfort; dryness in your mouth and a straining in your eyes, and because of that, you’re left with no choice but to close your eyes and let your other senses take over. Darkness surrounds you, and it feels like you have risen into the sky, despite grass being beneath you, and it’s soft, comfortable; almost like you could sink deeper into it before reaching the hard, frigid dirt. You grab the blades of grass with a tight fist, tugging on it, but still unwilling to pull it out as if you would cause harm. Then, the grass all around you becomes apparent—alive—moving against your skin in a response back to you. It tickles all over, building the realization that you lay naked in the grass, though unwilling to get up or cover yourself; lost within the pure contentment of the situation. 

There is a wave that sways over you—hot, heavy, and harsh, yet not too overbearing in its nature. You don’t know why, but there’s a sense of familiarity about when you are. It’s as if you’ve been here before, a distant memory that both chills and warms you. 

Along with the burbling sound of water pouring into itself, the smell of water whisks in the cool breeze—slightly sweet, green and alluring; whistling your name, calling out for you to come over. The whispering is intriguing, full of temptation but slightly melancholic; no words need be said, yet you understand the language of the waters. The whispers are loud, blaring; not in the sense of volume, but by how jarring it is—unlike anything you’ve heard and yet, it’s something you feel so acquainted with, like a long-time friend. The water cries, begging for you to bathe within it or drink from it and promises a sweet taste that could be comparable to honey and lemons. 

When you open your eyes again, everything is clear. The plants around you are breathing, communicating through the whistles of the wind; and just like the water, the plants cry out as well. Though, the cries of the flowers and trees are far different from the cries of the water. The cries of the water nearby sing a great harmony of promise and belief, whereas, the cries of the many trees screech of terror and agitation. They warn of what horrors can be witnessed here, of what great dangers are lurking within them. A sweet song of catastrophe. The flowers, however,—with captivating colors unlike anything you’ve ever seen, yet familiar; like the names of them are on the tip of your tongue, begging to be acknowledged and praised—cry differently. It’s a murmur most comparable to the feeling of silk against your hands, but also the feeling of goosebumps after a close encounter with something you shouldn’t have crossed paths with. A comfortable discomfort. 

You look around, fully taking in the picture of what presents itself around you. There are butterflies varying in size and species—they sing as well, something similar to a war cry; morbid and haunting, though still beautiful and in great faith. Dragonflies buzz around, securing their place and status within the area. So much life here—at peace in this paradise. There’s some kind of haze or mist in the air, silent and still, tranquil. The sun is bright, blazing hot and practically piercing, yet despite the warmth, the air is slightly cool. The sight of your surroundings further cements your previous feelings of familiarity. Yet it also uncovers sheer discomfort. Yes, the area is familiar, but there’s something unsettling and distinctly different about it. A discomfort layering in the air, horribly beautiful and homely, but pandemonium is lurking, lurched and hidden within the shadows of this seeming paradise. 

You roll over in the grass—laying on your stomach and lifting your head to see beyond what you could before. Not too far from your current position is a waterfall, continuing its whispers. The spring below is surrounded by unusual pink flowers and huge rocks covered in thick, green and yellow moss. Before you can process it, you’re on your feet and moving towards the spring. Once there, you kneel, gazing at your reflection in the waters. It’s almost too much to process but it’s you. It is you and yet it’s like the face you wear does not belong to you. Uncanny and off putting. 

Movement. On your left, deep in the periphery of the spring. Your eyes shift, tracking whatever chooses to present itself. A swan. Elegant and pristine. It cranes its neck, beak pointing towards you in acknowledgment. You make full eye contact, and a chill runs up your spine causing your hair to stand on edge. An inflamed feeling of danger sparks within you, and before you have time to fight or run as far away as possible—“There you are!” 

The voice comes from your right, but when you look in that direction, there’s nothing there.  “So this is where you ran off to.”

The physical energy of the presence behind you is familiar, but strikingly overwhelming—it crawls up your skin like sharp nails, giving you goosebumps—you don’t need to turn around to recognize it. It’s Him. You’re unsure of what he is, exactly, but sometimes you meet him in your dreams. Though deep down you know that his existence and connection to you reaches well beyond the odd worlds of your dream realm. When he touches you, your surroundings change. The waterfall that you were once at is yards away, tiny in perspective. Despite having not moved an inch, it seems that every time you blink, you’re further and further into the woods; trees surrounding you and most certain to bury any noises emitted within their leaves.

The rustling of the tree leaves sounds like a screech, almost like sharp nails against a chalkboard—sinking deep and clashing, scraping out the porcelain enamel. The sound alone affects your brain, echoing in your mind, blaring enough to make you hold your hand against your head. The sound stops once he presses his hand against your cheek—so cold it feels like burning fire, almost scalding enough to melt off your skin; but you do not flinch, nor do you back away, frozen in place. The feeling of his skin against yours evokes an emotional aching so deep, you can feel it festering in the pit of your stomach, spreading to your organs and seeping into your veins—and somehow there is comfort in that. 

He’s speaking, and while you’re unable to make out the words he is saying, you can tell that his voice is soft, pillowy like a cloud. Honey-laced words dipping from his tongue as if he’s trying to convince or ask something of you. You avert your gaze, unsure of if you actually want to meet his eyes. 

His presence scares you just as much as it calms you. Intriguing, and homely but also frightening and domineering despite simply just standing there. Something about his demeanor feels off, or distorted, at the very least, as if he’s not actually in front of you. As if he was a result of your imagination instead of directly in your eyes view. He’s real, a hand against your skin, almost close enough for you to feel his breath lightly against your skin; and at the very least, he knows you. You know him, too, you think; of course, you’ve seen him in your dreams, but you’re inclined to believe you know him from somewhere else. 

“Where are we?” You ask him, avoiding eye contact, shaking away from the contact his hand makes with you. Jarringly, it doesn’t feel like you said anything at all. Your mouth was moving and the words presented themselves in your mind and yet you can’t hear a single thing you’re saying. The familiar fire within your throat when you speak is no longer there. 

“The Garden. It’s perfect here, isn’t it?” He gives you a small smile, seemingly understanding your indistinct confusion. Then, as he speaks up again, his voice drips with something resembling woe. “You and I used to live here a long time ago. I visit every so often, dip my legs into that spring back there, and then I reminisce on how pure life was back then before…” 

You think he’s talking again, but once again, you’re unable to hear him. You’re too busy lost in his face. The urge to press your lips against his gets stronger as you’re next to him. Then you realize he’s naked as well, and your entire body gets warmer. There’s a budding ache inside you that’s all too familiar, growing at a rapid pace. It’s almost like your body is on fire as a result of being within his presence. Hormones floating, hair standing on edge, your more sensual and raw instincts ready to unveil and latch onto him at any time. Head hurting the longer you’re in his presence until it all just stops. 

Everything stops. The trees are no longer rustling, birds no longer humming. There’s no splashing of the waterfall nor whistling in the wind. Just pure silence. The silence is uncomfortable, and causes you to stand still in your tracks like a deer, scared that if you make any sudden moves a predator might attack within the blink of an eye; jumping on you and tearing you apart in a bloody mess of flesh and organs flying everywhere, painting the fallen deep green leaves a perfect contrast of crimson. 

“Run,” He says. There’s nothing in his voice; no emotion nor a slight hint at what he’s thinking. But the word echoes in your mind, and sends a chill down your spine, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on edge in either curiosity or total blood curdling fear. 

“What do you mean?”

“You need to run,” His voice drops lower. “And don’t get caught.”

So you turn your heels and you run, not willing to ask him twice. Unsure of the direction you’re going in, but the further you seem to travel, the more that discomfort begins to settle in the pit of your stomach. You pick up the pace—one foot in front of the other, careful not to trip over yourself—but a small part of you isn’t sure if the danger that you’re sensing is real or just a part of a sick and twisted game. Instead of running away from the source of your terror, it seems as though you’re running towards it, no matter the direction you run. Twigs and leaves snapping and crunching beneath your feet, but it causes you no pain. In fact, the only thing you can feel in the moment is the thumping of your heart and every single milliliter of blood marching through your vessels.

You admittedly don’t make it too far before you’re cowering, ducking against a large tree. Heart racing with such speed that you’re almost positive it would break free of your ribcage, piercing its way out of your chest. The tree, however, as quickly as you found it, is no longer a place of solace, as you hear a long, loud, and deep growl to your left. The deep guttural sound echoing, slicing through the trees like machetes. You’ve got to move, but you fear that if you do, whatever it is that made that sound, might attack, ripping you to shreds before you’ve even got a chance to exhale. There’s a roar once again, this time uncomfortably closer to your hiding place. You stand still, and the surrounding area of the forest is suddenly extremely silent. No rustle of leaves or echoes of birds, but a loud silence accompanied by a buzzing noise; like a horde of flies marching their way towards you. 

“Hyunjin,” You call out. The name slips from your mouth with ease, as if you’ve been calling him by that name all along. In the blink of an eye, just as you exhale his name, your surroundings change; suddenly submerged in water. 

You emerge from the cold water, barely having time to register your surroundings before you’re being forced back into the water; claw-like hands scraping into your scalp, sharp and heavy against your skull. It’s hard to make your way above the water because of the forceful weight and before you know it, attempting to hold your breath is useless due to the water infiltrating your lungs. You’re flailing and thrashing around, arms lifting—hands curling into a claws, attempting to grab onto something, only to slash through the water—and legs kicking mindlessly, trying to escape what is uncertain; heart rate accelerating as panic fully sets in. This seems to go on for nearly fifteen minutes, being edged by death over and over; blacking out then awakening time and time again. Vision blocked by the salty darkness of the water, ensuring to agitate you with fright, unsure of when it’s all going to end.

Abruptly, you’re dragged upwards by your hair, back falling harshly against rock, helping you cough up the water in your throat. It feels like it takes minutes for you to learn how to breathe again, attempting to do that and calm down enough to assess your surroundings. You’re coughing so much you think you might cough up an intestine, throat burning with each assault, chest sinking and expanding and then sinking again. It takes many moments of coming back to yourself that you notice that there is no rough hand against your scalp. Alarmed, moving around frantically, backing up toward the closest stone wall. Scanning the area, there’s no human nor animal, nor creature of any nature in sight. Not even a single insect. Not even Hyunjin.

You lean over, though not too far in case history repeats itself, to peer into the water; there isn’t even a single fish, as far as you can tell, the waters quickly descending into a vast, black pit of the unknown. Overhead, the sky that was once shining brightly now dimming rather quickly, accompanied by dark, angry clouds. The winds pick up, swirling atop of the trees, emitting a drawn out whistle comparable to wind chimes; of which you can surprisingly hear over splashing and sputtering of the nearby waterfall. Large roars of thunder stomping in, but no lightning accompanies it. You begin to curl into yourself, attempting to shield yourself from whatever is out there, nature or otherwise.

You close your eyes for five simple seconds, and when you open them, Hyunjin is right next to you. He doesn’t notice you’re awake at first until you shift, catching his attention. He turns to you and you avert your eyes from him. He’s talking but it’s all inaudible, unimportant. Something about his presence in this moment is unsettling. Slightly off from the initially odd behavior he’d be exhibiting. You just nod to his words. “Found you like this about an hour ago. You shook so hard until you stopped and fell asleep.” 

Hyunjin holds out a hand for you, which you’re hesitant to grab, but the next thing you know, you’re standing slowly; legs shaking as you attempt to regain strength. You hold onto his arm for extra support, slightly struggling in your steps as he leads you, hand in hand, towards a small cave hidden behind the pour of the waterfall. It’s hardly a hike, but Hyunjin makes sure you get to the other size carefully. “The rocks are slippery. You’ve had a few accidents here before.”

A lot of Hyunjin’s words are vague. Referrals to past events involving the two of you, all of which you cannot remember. There’s a feeling that you’ve been here before, but you’re unable to prove it, or make those connections other than your gut feeling and Hyunjin’s comments. 

You’re hesitant to walk into the cave, the inside being pitch black. Hyunjin walks in before you, completely fearless, as if there is no potential danger. At the snap of a finger, there’s suddenly a fire going on within the cave. From you place you can see how the fire illuminates Hyunjin’s figure just a bit, and as you walk closer—finding a bit more comfort now that you can see, and because you know Hyunjin is there waiting for you, willing to guide you into and protect you from the unknown—you admire how the flames of the fire accentuates Hyunjin’s facial features. He was made by God, sculpted from the finest clay and molded into an individual with otherworldly beauty. Hyunjin holds a torch-like stick, fire blazing at the tip of it, used as momentary safety. “I know somewhere we can go.”

He then points into the deep darkness of the cave. You don’t want to go deeper into the cave. Right where you stand is just fine, and most importantly, it’s safe. Hyunjin reads the hesitant look that’s displayed on your face, but he urges you. “You’ve got me, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” 

And his smile, as beautiful and perfect as it is, seemed crooked, faked for just a moment. He holds out his hand, and without even thinking about it, you take his hand in yours as if you had no choice despite the unease boiling inside of you. His smile curves up again and he turns his head, now guiding you down the cold, dark cave. 

The entire time you’re walking, there’s nothing. Hyunjin doesn’t speak and neither do you. The walls on either side all appear the same, dirt colored and oddly smooth, with not even a small crater to make a difference. No matter how long you walk, nor how far, the dark pit continues into nothingness, an upsetting kind of emptiness. Despite Hyunjin being next to you, despite holding his hand, he’s like a stone wall. He makes no effort to speak, nor to even acknowledge you in the slightest despite leading you somewhere, it’s like you’re nothing but a mere bug, nothing to stress about or keep entertained. You feel nothing but loneliness at the pit of your stomach; the only things keeping you company are the thumping of your feet against the ground and the flickering of the flame Hyunjin holds. 

It’s a long time of walking before you realize that this cave is actually a tunnel. The tiny white dot of light grows bigger and bigger with every step taken. It feels like forever until you and Hyunjin reach the end of the tunnel. When you do, you’re happy to see light again. The sky now bright and blue, prohibiting any angry clouds of heavy rain. Air fresh and inviting, free of any worry and apprehension. Whatever doubts or dreadful feelings once felt before are now completely an afterthought. 

“C’mon let’s go.” Hyunjin discards the torch, dragging you with him by your hand, grip tight against you. 

He leads you over to a flower field where flowers ranging in color, size, and species reside. The field is colorful, bright and happy, like a source of glee. Inviting you over by whisper—maybe it’s a honey-filled hum—so sweet and kind. The deeper you walk into the flower field, you notice how enticing the air smells—sweet like a pastry, yet fresh like petrichor. The longer you and Hyunjin walk, hand and hand, the more at ease and loose you feel, almost drunk, mouth welling up with excess saliva. The two of you eventually reach a point to rest, laying on the grass, no words exchanged between you two. Simply just basking in the sun, deeply breathing in the fragrance of the nature that surrounds you. 

There’s a passage of time before you start to feel it; an itch that’s tempting you to scratch; a sudden burst in fire. A fire that begins at the pit of your stomach and continues to your core, flaring; spreading further throughout your body in static-like jolts. Your breaths change from relaxed and soft, quiet, to heavy and noticeable; and suddenly the atmosphere feels hotter, small beads of sweat collecting against your forehead. You shift, rubbing your thighs in effort to satiate your sudden cravings, wanting to grind your hips up in search of friction. Growing more desperate and needy by the second. 

This is when you look towards Hyunjin, rolling onto your stomach, head resting in your hands as you gaze up at his sitting form; and you actually notice him. You notice his nakedness, every single inch of him on display. He’s like a god, with his honey-like skin that glows and glistens in the sunlight. Toned and defined arm and thigh muscles that flex with nearly every movement he makes. He was meant to be admired, made to be worshiped—having men and women alike kneeling at his feet and imploring him to fuck and defile them. If only you knew how much he agrees. These thoughts almost embarrass you, yet they feel so natural. And your eyes drip lower to admire Hyunjin’s more intimate parts. Cock hanging low, thick, and you’re not too sure if he’s hard or not but he’s big. Mouth watering as you admire his dick: the natural curve to it, how there’s three thick, prominent veins that disperse along his shaft (at least from what you can see at this angle) that are pulsing, just begging for your tongue to roll over them. 

You’re pulled away from your fantasy when Hyunjin clears his throat. With an eyebrow raised and a glimmer in his eye, he gives a small smile to you, softly, “You need something from me?”

“Maybe,” You wink at him. You sit up to face him, hand making contact with his knee, fingertips trailing up and down his thigh in a teasing matter. You get a little closer to him, skin against skin, eyes fixated on his cock as your fingertips dance against his inner thigh.

That’s when Hyunjin kisses you, lips soft and plump; and when he presses them against your lips you feel like you're in heaven. At first, your lips barely touch, meeting in small pecks, sweet kisses that eventually deepen into something desperate. The kisses are open mouthed, wet and sloppy, Hyunjin’s tongue makes its way into your mouth naturally, exploring inside of you. The kiss only breaks a few times; when you place your hands flat against Hyunjin’s chest, pushing away slightly just to get air. Each time the kiss breaks, Hyunjin smiles with a small chuckle, licking his lips before leaning in again, forehead pressed to yours. 

You break the kiss once more, now focusing more on Hyunjin’s cock. Spitting onto your hand and wrapping it around his shaft, squeezing lightly. Tight fist working up and down Hyunjin’s length, biting your lip when you feel him twitch within your hand. He bites his lip, holding back a moan. Hyunjin stops you before you get too deep into it, instead choosing to take the lead. 

Hyunjin plants another kiss to your lips before kissing down your neck, trying his best to take his time to really savor you, but he soon grows impatient. Pushing you down flat against the grass. Quick, wet kisses in several places down your body before he plants one last kiss right above where he really wants to be. There, he wastes no time getting to work, tongue slithering out almost snake-like to lick against your cunt. He really takes in the first taste of his meal, wetness sitting against his tongue, practically melting in his mouth, he moans. He dives in once again, lips and tongue against your cunt, licking and sucking and moaning; fully savoring you. 

“Taste so fucking good,” He breathes once to come up for air, not that he actually needs it. Continuing to lap at your cunt, lips kissing and sucking at your clit, moaning into your heat. Hands coming to your thighs to grip, fingernails piercing, spreading you open wider for him. 

You grind against his face, hands instinctively going to his hair, fingers tangling within it and pulling with eagerness. Hyunjin groans into you at the slight sting of you pulling at his hair. Tongue not letting up against your clit, following your cunt with every movement you make, not letting you get a break from the feeling of him against you. His mouth domes around your clit, sucking you in, teeth lightly grazing against your bud, momentarily making your back arch. Mid arch, Hyunjin slips two fingers into you. Slight sting as he stretches you out, long digits buried to the knuckles inside of you upon initial thrust. 

Soon planting open mouthed kisses against your cunt, fingers working their way in and out of you at an obnoxious pace, curling naturally. Between Hyunjin’s tongue and fingers, in combination with his lips planting kisses against your cunt in between sloppy licks, it’s all too overwhelming. Cunt clenching around his fingers, pulling them in to beg for more, which Hyunjin promptly gives. Fingers fucking into you faster, his other palm pressing down directly against your pelvis. 

It’s all too much, but you don’t want it to stop. The feeling of your impending orgasm has you shaking, practically vibrating, unable to brace yourself for it. Tears pooling down the side of your face as you moan out for him. The tips of his fingers repeatedly hit the soft, gushy spot deep inside of you, biting his lip as he watches your face contort. Body stiffening within his hold, unallowed to thrash around, only able to take what he’s giving you. Though unable to completely relax into it, fighting off the feeling of eventual bliss. 

Hyunjin lets out a breathy moan at your defiance. Thumb massaging your clit, slowly but surely dragging you further off the edge. Hyunjin finally gets you to relax into his touch, into the feeling of temptation fully engulfing your soul. That’s when it takes over. Your vision blurs, almost going black, mouth agape as you let out cracked moans. Chest getting hot, tightening as you cum, releasing all stress and tension, absolutely melting into this state that makes you feel like you’re floating. Yet your body is only laid out in the grass, legs spread wide for him, as your cunt spills all over his fingers, wetness squirting all over Hyunjin’s forearm and thighs. Tongue desperately trying to lap up whatever he can as his fingers slip away from your cunt. The palm of his hand coming down against your sore cunt once, making you moan out and close your thighs, back arching, pain stinging in the best possible way that leaves you aching for more. Not fully satisfied. 

Hyunjin is kneeling over you now, a large hand around his cock. Angry red tip all pretty and glossed with precum that dares to fall onto your skin like delicious raindrops. His cock twitches in his hand, blood rushing, pulsing in the veins that decorate his shaft. It all just makes you think about finally having his cock in you. The burning of the stretch, the feel of him reaching places that haven’t been accessed before, not to mention the feeling of his warm cum filling you up, ounce by ounce. 

When Hyunjin pushes into you, you nearly lose your breath, caught in a long inhale. He’s nice enough to push into you slowly, but it’s only because he wants to savor the feeling (though, Hyunjin fully intends to use you however he wants for as long as he pleases). His cock is thick, stretches you beyond anything you’ve experienced before; though instead of being painful, your body is laced, wrapped in pleasure, and the sensation of thrill rushes through your veins. You spread your legs further apart, welcoming more of Hyunijn, hoping that he pushes into you deeper; overcome with desire and want. 

“So fucking wet,” Hyunjin pins his cock deeper into you, pulling out quickly, teasingly. “Need more of me?”

You nod frantically, bottom lip slipping away from the clutches of your teeth. When you look up at Hyunjin, his eyes are fixated on your cunt. Tongue peeking out of his mouth, swirling over his bottom lip, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eyebrow. He’s concentrated, breathing so heavily that he almost begins emitting an inhumane growl, but he dials it back quickly. Instead of pushing all of his length inside of you, Hyunjin pulls out completely, tapping the head of his dick against your cunt, sliding his cock from left to right against your clit. You watch as he does this, listening to the pornographic sound of your wetness, cunt clenching around nothing, just begging to finally be filled. 

“Please…” You find yourself begging. Eyebrows strung together as you rock your hips up and down, trying to catch Hyunjin’s cock only for him to move away, preventing you from chasing your pleasure. His hand comes down harsh against your cunt in succession, serving as a warning. 

“So cockhungry, can’t you be patient?” Hyunjin continues his tease, repeated light slaps against your cunt with his dick. His cock is replaced by his hand, two fingers dragging down from your clit to your slit, thrusting them into you quickly. Two fingers are replaced by three, and three, by four. He moves quickly, tips of his fingers curled and hitting exactly where you need them. He fucks your moans out of you, reveling in the way that your cries spill out just like the wetness of your cunt, and he’s barely doing anything but fingering you. And you’re this fucked up, melting into his fingers, giving him nearly everything he wants. “Always so pathetic and slutty.”

Agreements slip from your mouth, just in hopes that he’ll give you what you need if you’re good for him. Hyunjin just laughs at you, you’re certainly the cutest plaything he’s had—he knows he’s got to take his time with you. Almost wanting to slip his thumb inside of you as well, Hyunjin decides against it, continuing to fuck you with four of his fingers, still unrelenting in his pace. You, however, are lost for words; taking every ounce of what Hyunjin is giving you. A burning sensation rising in the pit of your stomach, hips rising from the ground, but Hyunjin never stops. Even when you’re leaking all over him, thighs shaking and threatening to close around his arm, he doesn’t stop fucking his fingers into you; not until he’s sure he’s got every ounce from you. Cum dripping down his arm as he takes and takes from you, forcing you to squirt all over him and yourself once again. Sliding his fingers out of you with yet another slap against your cunt.

His hand is around his cock again—wet with your cum, smearing it all over his cock—squeezing at its base as he brings his tip to your entrance. But he teases again, merely slapping his cock against your cunt. You arch into him, grinding your hips against his cock but Hyunjin makes no notice of you and your antics. Eventually getting bored, pulling his cock away from you. 

“Kneel,” He speaks curtly, standing. However, you do not move fast enough for his liking. “Don’t make me have to do it for you.” 

He does anyway. Grabbing you by the hair, dragging you up and forcing you onto your knees, skin grinding into the grass, sure to have bruises on them. Hyunjin’s hand stays in your hair, tugging as his free hand wraps around his cock. He yanks your head to the side, proceeding to slap his cock against your cheek, precum oozing from the tip. 

“Open.” He says, and you promptly follow his instructions. “Looks like I’ve got a smart one.” 

Hyunjin spits into your mouth, globs of saliva coating your tongue. His cock closely follows, dipping the tip in and out of your mouth quickly. He shifts, though, choosing to slide his entire length into your mouth, lips closing around him; but Hyunjin doesn’t allow it. Cock sliding out of your mouth, resulting in Hyunjin slapping you on the cheek with it again; saliva and cum sticking to your cheek. “Keep your mouth open wide.”

You adjust for him, just wanting to be able to take him and satisfy his cravings. He slides his cock back into your mouth, fully, giving minimum time to adjust to neither his speed nor his size. Mouth stretched to capacity, jaws aching and burning but Hyunjin is completely relishing in all the gagging and choking you do. You’re getting dizzier the longer his dick is in your mouth, tip kissing, nearly ramming, the back of your throat due to Hyunjin’s pacing. You feel like you’re on fire but yet you’re still able to relax into it. It isn’t long before you start moaning around his cock, absentmindedly rocking your hips back and forth whenever you taste a hint of the salty sweet substance. Hyunjin then pulls out, saliva spilling all over your chin and connecting in tiny stings to his cock. Smacking your cheek with his cock another three times, erupting in a full belly laugh, smiling at the way you’re just a completed fucked out mess, barely registering a thing he’s doing or saying to you. 

“Look at that,” Hyunjin releases you from his clutches. He pushes you back by your shoulder, making you catch yourself from falling back with the palms of your hands. When you look down, you’re completely soaked, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto the ground, pooling messily onto a leaf, spilling off of its edges and soaking into the dirt beneath it. “Fucking filthy little mess you’ve made. Cunt just begging to be fucked, huh?” 

The question is rhetorical but you still nod; even going as far as to whine a little bit, hips moving seemingly without your control. Hyunjin takes pleasure in this small action, kneeling down to your level. He licks his fingers, noting that he doesn’t need to at all, and swipes them over your clit, one, two times before his ring and middle finger are sliding into your cunt. Fingertips meeting the exact place you need them each time he slides them into you. You’re clenching around his fingers now, and Hyunjin licks his lips, pulling away from you.

“Turn around.” You obey, turning on your hands and knees, swinging your ass in the air. He continues with his teasing, and at this point you’re nearly sobbing, wondering if he’ll ever actually give you what you want. Pathetic chants and whines spilling from your mouth as you push your ass against Hyunjin, unable to control yourself; thinking with your cunt instead of your brain. 

Hyunjin spits down onto you, and you can feel the glob of spit slide down from your asshole to your cunt, tickling its way down your clit. Hyunjin, though, slides the head of his cock from your clit, upwards, collecting his spit and your wetness in the process. He teases the tip at the rim of your tight hole, teasing at it. But when you push your ass towards Hyunjin, he pulls away, tsk-ing in the process. 

“Silly little play thing,” Hyunjin gives a cold, almost threatening laugh. “I think I need to teach you a lesson on patience, hm?” 

The threat has you pleading with him, repeated apologies dancing off your tongue, ultimately not acknowledged. Hyunjin loves to hear the sounds of your begs and pleads, but ultimately, the words you say do not matter to him—it all means nothing. Hyunjin marches at the beat of his own drum, and in situations like this, when he’s got a perfect piece of flesh like you beneath him, everything that he says, goes. And right now, he’s perfectly fine with teasing you over and over and over again. 

Slapping his cock against your cunt once, twice, Hyunjin slightly pushes the head of his cock against the rim of your ass. He continues applying pressure, fixated on stretching out the perfectly puckered hole. You whine at the feeling, slowly inching away from it, but Hyunjin holds your hips still. Pushing and pushing, slowly, until finally he slides the head of his cock into your tight hole. Hyunjin moans out at how your hole tightens around him, welcoming him inside. He does nothing, just stays like that, moaning and ignoring your pleas for him to do something. It’s not until you feel the side of his hand brush up against you cunt that you realize Hyunjin has got a hand around his shaft, getting himself off while the tip of his cock is in your ass and you’ve got nothing to do except for lay there and accept it, with your ass in the air and your face against dirt. 

His moans increase as he fucks his hand around his cock faster; and if it werent for his other hand holding you in place, you’d at least try to fuck back on him through the stretch of the pain. As Hyunjin exhales, letting out a deep groan of a moan, you feel the rush of warm liquid shooting into you. You moan in response as Hyunjin makes a mess of you with his cum, filling you up, trying to keep it all inside until he pulls out and it all, inevitably, leaks out of your hole, pooling around your cunt. 

Hyunjin wastes no time, cock sliding into your cunt with ease due to your wetness and his cum; but the stretch is intense, more than you initially expected. You tighten up a bit, resisting, though you want to relax. You can’t hold your arch perfectly any longer but that’s the least of your worries—the only thing on your mind being cock. Hyunjin slides another inch into you. Maybe it’s because of all the teasing, or the fact that you’ve already cum twice, but he’s not even halfway inside of you and it feels like he’s reached the depths of your soul already. His hand reaches around, fingers coming in contact with your clit in hopes of helping you ease up. 

“Created just for me,” Hyunjin breathes out, voice rough with possession. “Made just for me. Only me.” 

He continues with his ownership of you, voice dipping deeper as his words become mostly obscenities. You don’t hear it. Or perhaps you can’t hear it. Maybe you don’t want to hear the vile things he’s saying. You’re overtaken, caught up by the intense, high pitch ringing that is worming its way through your ear canal, planting and fertilizing clashing waves of static all around your brain. 

His hand wraps around your neck. It feels nothing like the soft, once heavenly hands that had been massaging all over your skin. These hands are rough, calloused and rigid palms that venture into freakishly long, boney fingers; with nails like claws that pierce into the side of your neck right behind your ear. Your eyes remain closed, fearing that if you open them that you’ll see something you shouldn’t, something that your mind would be unable to comprehend visually. A feeling of spiritual discomfort crawls up your back, causing you to arch, shivering at the same moment Hyunjin works his cock deeper into you, stretching you further; mentally and physically—of which he insists on doing, wanting to bend you to his will and break you beyond anything you’ve experienced. 

Hyunjin pulls you back to him, hips unrelenting. Teeth, sharp like razors, piercing down into the flesh of your shoulders; nearly enough for blood to start trickling down your skin, but that does not occur. His teeth, however, do leave indents in your skin; that, if he’s lucky enough, will be permanent. His lips meet your ear next, a brief kiss planted to the lobe before whispering in a rather gruff voice, unlike that of his usual. “Inferior to me. Mine to claim.” 

When he cums there’s an immense amount of it, sticky and warm. Hyunjin makes sure to be fully buried inside of you, cock seemingly swelling in size as he forces you to take all his cum inside. Hyunjin is selfish, not waiting a single moment, and barely pulling out before he begins to thrust back in. Cum coats his cock, almost daring to drip onto the ground in raindrop-like shapes. He refuses to allow that, however, fucking all of his cum back into you. His thighs, which originally felt like the silkiest, softest flesh, now coarse and dry—except for the sticky cum running down them, connecting in slightly thick, white lines against your thighs—and fuzzy; thick. “Mine to possess.”

You slowly come to realize that Hyunjin has taken a different shape completely. No longer possessing the body of a man, he has turned into some kind of beast, something inhuman. He’s grown abnormally in size and you can tell because he’s holding you up as he fucks you, toes barely scraping the dirt. 

And as filthy and as frightening as it is, the line between fear and arousal is a very thin, blurry line. It leads you to come crashing down, partially due to the overstimulation, cunt spasming around Hyunjin’s cock, sucking in all his cum. You’re elated, completely delighted, mind elsewhere as you experience your high with Hyunjin fucking you through it. Hardly registering anything other than the feeling of Hyunjin’s cock stretching you out and the warmth of his cum—a sticky mess that’s leaking out both of your holes and staining your thighs. 

When you come to, you’re laying on Hyunjin’s chest. It’s still daylight out, the sun beaming as bright as ever, nearly blinding when you open your eyes. It takes a few moments to shake away the pure, drowsy euphoria you’re feeling, completely ravished by bliss; almost hypnotized. You prop your head up to look at Hyunjin, and the moment you do, it’s like there are trumpets sounding off all around you. You have a realization—no, a revelation—that things aren’t as they seem as you peer up at the brown-haired man. As queasiness makes a home in the pit of your stomach, all within two mere seconds, the wind picks up; howling in the distance, bustling within the branches of trees. 

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” For what might be the first time, your eyes meet his.

What words can be used to describe what you saw when you looked into the eyes of that thing? Petrifying? Nauseating? Surreal? It makes you want to close your eyes, however, when you do, the images you’ve seen seem as though they’ve been permanently printed against the black of your eyelids. Perhaps you can attempt to run away—and hide, praying to God that you’re not stalked and caught—but your muscles don’t respond to the neurons being sent by your brain. Perhaps you can find a way out of this dream, but your physical body seemingly refuses to acknowledge the call to wake up; only processing the utter fright in the images it created. The only thing you can do is stare into Hyunjin’s eyes, continuing to receive visions of which you hope you’ll be able to forget. 

His irises are a deep pool of black, displaying a particular flavor not only of loneliness but utter wickedness. The longer you stare into Hyunjin’s eyes the longer you are disillusioned, fully snatched away from all delusion of this former fairytale. Vision clouded by a thick, murky fog; fully spotlighting the shocks of visions you see in his eyes. 

A beast, creature unlike anything you’ve ever seen or imagined. The face of a man only oddly elongated with empty eye sockets and horns—covered in blood that only makes a mop of its fine hair—curled up into two spikes atop his head. A smile so wide it’s like it was carved in with a razor blade and charred, blackened and blood stained fangs hanging from its mouth. Its body, with its abnormally long limbs, is completely drenched in blood, dripping in pools all around the entity. Pieces of what you can only assume is a human—or even worse, you—discarded and littered around it without much thought or care. 

Flesh. Human meat. Limbs and bones and the insides—intestines, livers and hearts and muscle—all around you as this vision becomes reality; suddenly finding yourself within one meter of this monstrosity. The pool of blood coming up to your ankles, rising steadily. Pieces and pieces of the now deceased all around you, entirely mangled and minced. The creature holds pieces of meat within its claws, sharp nails piercing into the gray flesh, bits of meat stuck between its teeth as it tears into its victim. 

It is feeding. 

The situation becomes all the more frightening when the creature raises its head towards you. Despite it being eyeless, you know that you’re making eye contact, getting lost within the empty abyss that seems to be staring into the corners of your spirit. It’s wide smile never fading as it lurches, sprinting towards you faster than the blink of an eye. 

The transition from the dream world to the waking world is surreal, almost jarring. Especially since when you awaken, you’re paralyzed, body stiff with static crawling all over your skin. The darkness of your bedroom surrounds you, both familiar and completely unknown. You attempt to move around a little, opening and closing your eyes multiple times, attempting to raise at least a finger; though falling short of progress to escape this feeling, left to stare straight up at your ceiling. 

Then there’s the boom. A loud, static-like noise; deep as if something really heavy had dropped—but you’re unsure if it’s coming from the dark corner on your right or elsewhere within your home. A thing that simultaneously occurred and did not happen. The speed at which fear rises within you is faster than the speed of light. Heart racing as the physical manifestation of dread drops to the bottom of your stomach—fear making its home in the back of your throat, tightening as your swallow, seemingly making it difficult to breathe. It consumes you, a heavy burden, too insufferable to support, unable to put up a fair fight against it. 

Don’t Look. 

Curiosity gets the best of you. You shift your eyes to the right and in the far corner of the bedroom is a space that’s significantly darker than anything else in the room; like a void. Perhaps it’s because the light from your plug-in air freshener doesn’t reach that area of the room. And perhaps you’re tired and still reeling from that strange dream, but you swear you see movement as you glance over. You want to look away, you have to look away, but curiosity sinks its claws into you. Hypnotizing and you're paralyzed with fear of what could happen. Then, the darkness in the corner grows, getting larger as if whatever it is has been expanding, standing up to greet you. 

Then it disperses. Leaving you alone, shaking and sweating in the cold, unwelcoming darkness of your room, finally able to move and process things. 

© PLANETDREAM 2023

TWIN FLAME.

PART I

Felix x reader. (s,f, a bit of angst)

Chapters: Part II / Part III / Eternal Flame.

Synopsis: Back home for a summer holiday, you meet the new next-door boy, Felix, who will turn your summer into a burning bright one. (14,1k words)

Content warning: Mentions of smoking and minor theft.

As you sat there on the couch detached from reality, you rethinking your choice to come back to this town.

What was the reason?

You lived a vigorous college life in the city for almost two years, and all of a sudden, you found yourself boarding a train back home for the summer.

You look at your surroundings, at the party at its full swing. Despite spending all of your high school years with them and knowing their names by heart, they didn't feel like your friends anymore.

Just like your body unconsciously seeking for an out, whether it's from your head or the house, you found yourself walked out of the house and leaning against a car with your chest heaving as if you just ran a mile, clutching your jacket together even though the weather was warm that night.

"Are you okay?" A man asked with a deep voice, you saw his figure backlit by the garden lamp looming over you. You were unable to speak, your brain was fuzzy with so many thoughts rushing to your mind, couldn’t even decide if it was one of those fight or flight moments.

He approached you as he lit up his cigarette with a lighter, the flame illuminated his face, revealing his elfin-like facial features.

He pointed to the car you leaned against, "You're on my car," he said.

And you jolted on your feet, standing up straight almost instantly.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," you weakly said to him.

When you looked at his car, you believed you had seen this car before, since not many people drive a vintage car anymore these days, especially not in this town.

He let out a cloud of smoke and exhaled some more through his pursed lips,

"It's okay," he replied, he walked to his car to the driver's side and unlocked it.

You didn't know why you still standing there with your hands deep in your jacket pockets and watched him like a garden gnome.

He lingered by the car door before getting in, then tossed his cigarette butt onto the ground and stepped on it. Did time just fly by fast without you noticing? Or did he just finish a cigarette in under two minutes?

He got in the car then pushed open the car door of the passenger's side at you.

"Get in!" He said, "Let me take you for a drive!"

It wasn't like he was asking, moreover you needed an out at that time. You got in the car and slammed the door shut. You didn't know why it felt like you just stepped into something dangerous but felt so familiar at once.

He glanced at you and smiled, "I'm Felix, by the way," he introduced himself before turning the car on and the engine roared to life.

You held on to your seat belt as he drove at a high speed, the car glided through the night yet he looked so calm with one hand on the steering wheel and the other dangling out of his rolled-down window.

Your heart leaped when he spurred the engine, and the car picked up some more speed, you felt uneasy at the surge of adrenaline inside you. You were never like this before, letting yourself be reckless by going on a drive with a guy you barely know out of a whim, it was scary but surprisingly liberating.

He took you up on a hill where you could see the view of the city from the hilltop and saw the moon hanging so low above it. You sat on the hood of the car next to him and let out a long sigh, and it never felt this nice to do it.

"You want one?" He offered his pack of cigarettes to you.

You shook your head, "I don't smoke," you told him and gave him a sheepish smile.

He shrugged, "okay," then pulled out a cigarette and put it between his teeth before lit it up with a lighter.

You stole a few glances at him, at the worn-out leather jacket he was wearing to the bleached blonde hair peeking out his beanie.

You glanced at him and got the sense of peculiarly nostalgic, except that only makes sense if you have experienced this before and none of it ever happened to you.

Everything about him didn't fit this town, it was obvious he was from the city, or anywhere but here.

"You're new in town, are you?" You asked him out of pure curiosity.

He opened his mouth, and smoke billowed out of it, "I've been here for a while," he replied.

You've just realized that your question sounded rude, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be ru-"

He laughed, "it's okay," he quickly said, "it's a small town with a small population,"

You nodded and looked down at your feet, flustered.

"You grew up here?" He asked as he threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it.

Once again, you were amazed at how quickly he could finish one cigarette smoke.

"Yes," you answered, "I already moved out of town two years ago actually," you added and held your hair from flying out at the wild wind.

He hoisted himself up on the hood of the car, "then what are you doing here?" He asked.

"I'm here for the summer. I'll be back at the beginning of the term," you answered. You were surprised at how easily you share such information with a man you just met half an hour ago.

"If you grew up here, then you must know cool places around here," he said, spreading his legs out then playing with the lighter.

You stifled a laugh, "I rarely go out much when I lived here," you shyly admitted.

He turned his head at you, "why?"

"Because I'm a stay-at-home-and-read-a-book kind of person," you replied.

"A beautiful girl like you shouldn't have stayed at home," he said.

One compliment and your cheeks already heating up, you held the urge to touch them and shoved your hands deeper into your jacket pockets.

"But I get it, you have that mysterious vibe of a Sleeping Beauty," he commented.

And lonely too, you added in your head, but you just nodded along to what he said.

At the end of the night, he insisted on driving you home, and honestly, you felt uncomfortable sharing your address to a guy you just precisely met four hours ago.

When he pulled out right in front of your house without you telling him where to go, your mouth agape in wonder, and you felt a slight fear inside.

You looked at him with your hand ready to unbuckle the belt at any second.

"I thought you already know by now?" He said, sounding as confused as you are.

"How did you know?" You asked him because it started to baffle you.

He laughed, "I live next to your house," he answered and pointed to the house next to yours, and you remembered that your mother mentioned that a new family moved in a year ago.

You sighed and exclaimed, "Oh!" that explained why you felt like you had seen the car before.

You slowly unbuckled your safety belt and swung open the car door.

With your foot already stepped out of the car, you turned at him and said, "thank you for the, uhm..." you paused because you didn't know what he exactly did that make you feel grateful, "the ride," you finished.

He nodded, "No problem,"

You got out of the car and shut the door, before you walked away he called your name.

"I suggest you should close your curtains before changing your clothes from now on," he said, and you saw his lips curled into a smirk before driving away in the direction of his house.

Once you got into your bedroom and turned on the lights, you realized that his room was located right across from yours with his window facing you which means he could see whatever you were doing in your room and watch you change your clothes. You quickly went to the window and shut the curtains.

Nothing changed much after that day, you spent your days in your room and reading, only going out when your mom insisted you help her gardening or hosing the plants.

One day, you saw his car parked in his house but there was no sight of him, another day you caught him through the window changing his t-shirt, exposing his lean body for a few seconds before putting on a hoodie and waving at you when he noticed you were watching, most time you caught him left with his car.

And today, nothing.

There was no sight of him, his car isn't parked outside his house and the curtain of his room was completely shut. At times, you felt the assurance that he wasn't just fragments of your imagination and that he is real. You took one last look at his room before going to sleep, the lights were off, and it was quiet, with no sign of life. You went to your bed and fell asleep with an inexplicably restless mind.

For a second, you thought you dreamed the sound of the tapping against your window with your mind still hazy, you walked to the window and opened the curtains.

You squinted your eyes and looked down, saw Felix about to throw another pebble at your window. You quickly pulled open your window and stuck your head out.

He waved his hands at you.

"Come down!" He said, gestured to his car, "Let's go for a drive,"

"Now?" You asked.

He nodded, "I'll wait here," he mouthed.

You put on your jeans and a t-shirt, carried your jacket downstairs, and made sure you didn't make any sound that would wake your parents then went out through the back door.

You found him sitting on the hood of his car, playing with his lighter as he waited for you.

"Where are we going?" You asked him.

He shrugged, "anywhere we want!" He answered then unlocked the door.

Unlike that night, Felix drove slowly on the almost empty streets of the town with both windows rolled down. You held out your hand out the window to feel the air slipping through the spaces between your fingers with your eyes closed.

After making a ride around the town, Felix stopped by at a gas station, and he went inside to pay while you waited in the car.

Your eyes followed to where his figure walked around the store, looking so attractive under the fluorescent lights. As if he sensed your eyes on him, he looked in your direction and smiled. You were glad he wasn't in the car with you and heard you sigh in delight.

He held up a bag of snacks in his hand at you as he half-jogged towards the car with an effervescence smile that didn't wear off even for a second.

"I bought us some snacks," he said as soon as he got into the car.

You rummaged inside to see what he bought and spotted some cans of cherry coke that you like, "how do you know I like cherry coke?" You asked him.

He looked at you rather confused, "I like cherry coke too,"

"No way," you exclaimed, kept on rummaging through to find packs of gummy bears that you also like. You held it up at him, "not this too?" You asked him.

He laughed, "It's convenient that we like the same snacks," he said as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Where are we going now?" You asked him, unwrapped the gummy candies as you spoke.

He smacked his lips together, "I don't know about you, but today felt so exceptionally hot," he said, then pulled away from the parking lot.

His eyes glinted with excitement when you knew where he was taking you, you've been here a couple of times, and it reminded you of how you spent your summer in high school.

But instead of going to the part of the lake with the dock, he went to the other side, where big rocks stacked along the lakeside to prevent the lake water from rising and flooding the nearby residents when it rains.

You both got out of the car almost simultaneously and looked at each other.

"Let's go for a swim," he said, this time putting an unlit cigarette behind his ear.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, "Swimming? Right now?" You asked him.

He nodded and began taking off his leather jacket, "yes," he shortly replied.

He bent down to untie his shoelaces, then kicked his shoes off of his feet, and you stood there, awkwardly watching him taking off his clothes. He pulled his t-shirt by its back collar and did it seamlessly, then slid down his jeans and put all of his clothes inside the car.

You gestured to the cigarette he put behind his ear, and he put it away.

"Come on! The water is warm!" He persuaded you, holding out his hand and confidently stood in front of you only in his boxer.

You hesitated at first. The swimming is alright, but taking off your clothes with him watching you, made you anxious.

"You can go in first," you said to him, "I'll catch up," you assured him.

He shrugged, "okay," then walked to the lake.

After he got out of the sight and vice-versa, you began taking off your clothes and walked to the lake hugging yourself, aware that you were only in your undergarments.

Felix held out his hand at you to help you climb down the rocks, you took it, but he ended up lifting you down by putting his arm around your waist and into the lake.

You felt comfortable because he wasn't trying to get physical, he only held you by your hand to keep you from tripping due to the slippery floor of the lake and put a space between you.

He was right, the water was warm, and the moon shone so brightly that the shine reflected on his glistening wet body.

When you looked at him, he was raking his wet hair to the back with his fingers and beads of water dripping down his chin, despite his slender-looking figure, he has muscular arms and sculpted abs.

He looked so breathtaking, ethereal even.

After swimming a few rounds in the lake, you both got out of the lake, then sat on the hood to dry yourselves a little and drank the lukewarm soda in silence.

Felix lit a cigarette then lay himself down on the hood of the car, "I think I'm tired enough to sleep now," he said with his head staring at the night sky.

"You have trouble sleeping?" You asked him as he took another drag of his smoke.

He exhaled a string of long smoke before finally answering, "kind of,"

When you finished with your can of drink, and he finished with his cigarette smoke, you began putting on clothes when all of sudden Felix threw you his car keys,

"You drive this time," he said, then walked to the passenger's side.

"I haven't driven in a long time," you said to him, scratching your head in doubt if you are still able to drive a car.

Felix shrugged, "people always say they forget how to ride a bicycle, then get the hang of it once they ride it,"

"But I can't ride a bicycle," you admitted.

He glared at you.

And you blinked your eyes a few times innocently.

"You're being serious?" He asked in disbelief.

You nodded.

You have no idea why the car would not pick up the pace, you altered between your brake and gas a few times now, but nothing seemed to work.

"You need to change the clutch," he said to you as he popped one of those mint candies smokers used to take then helped you shift the stick.

You huff a breath, "that's the car's job, you know," you defended yourself.

Felix laughed and reclined on his seat, his body slightly facing you and watching you driving with your face contorted in full concentration.

It took you quite a moment to finally be comfortable driving his car, and it was because there were no other cars. The streets were empty and quiet, except for the sound of the roaring engine.

"Go ahead, step on the gas!" Felix encouraged you along with a devilish grin.

You hesitated for a while, but since there were no other cars in sight, you stepped on the gas pedal and pushed the speed of the car, sending it gliding on the asphalt. It felt so freeing, not thinking about anything but feeling the wind in your hair and having control of whether to go fast or slow.

The car was parked in front of your house and you had been sitting on the driver's seat for quite some time now, smiling like a fool, all the while Felix just sat there looking at you

When the excitement subsided, you unclasp your safety belt and turn your head at him, "I've never felt like that before," you said to him.

He didn't say anything but nodded along to your words.

Your hands reached up to your cheeks as it started to hurt from you smiling nonstop,

"I should go," you said to him, your arm stretched to the backseat to take your jacket. And when you retracted your arm back, Felix caught your face with his hand and without warning, crashed his lips on yours.

It took you a moment to realize that he was kissing you, your body went against your will and pushed him away.

Felix quickly took his hand away from your jaw, "I am so sorry. I lost it for a moment," he explained.

Before he got the wrong idea, you took a fistful of his jacket and brought his face close to yours. You kissed him right on the mouth, capturing his lips with yours and switching between sucking and nibbling.

He tasted of cherry coke, spearmint, and cigarette, of danger and haven, felt so right yet so wrong, and it blurred everything that you had believed in. You were standing on a thin line, and you were willing to take the risk of falling the moment your lips and his touched in a rapturous, fiery kiss.

Since then, you didn't go to sleep because you knew that sooner or later, he'd come tapping on your window. And you were right, you pulled open the curtains to find him waiting by his car out front.

He didn't have to say anything to make you come running downstairs and tried to do it silently in the process.

You dashed toward and jumped at him, and Felix lifted you off of your feet and gave you a spin.

That night, he took you to a drive-in cinema, but none of you watched the movie as your lips were busy latching onto each other with hands on each other’s bodies as you both sat in the backseat of the car.

"You tasted so much better when you didn't smoke," you said to him when you let go of the kiss to catch a breath, realizing that you haven't seen him smoke when you were with him.

He took a few gummy candies in his hand and ate it at once, "what did I taste like?"

You took one of the gummy candies in red color, "berry-flavored gummy candy," you answered, then shoved it into your mouth.

He rummaged inside a bag of snacks you two bought earlier and pulled out something, "what is this?" He said as he held a piece of paper.

You took it and showed him what is it,

"It's fake tattoos. Pick one for me," you told him, and leaned on his shoulder.

Felix observed the fake tattoo designs in much seriousness that there was a crease formed between his eyebrows.

"This," he showed you.

"A butterfly," you beamed, "why?"

"Because butterflies can't see how beautiful their wings are," he answered, "just like you," he finished, along with a soft caress on your cheek.

You couldn't help but smile at his indirect praise.

"Okay then," you said, "where do you think should I have it?" You asked with one of your eyebrows shot up at him.

He hummed for a while, "what about on your back shoulder?"

"Sounds great," you exclaimed.

You unbuttoned your shirt just enough to slide it down one arm, then sat with your back against him so he could put it on you.

He lifted all of your hair and put it aside, you almost gasped when his cold hands touched your skin. It only took a minute for him to put the fake tattoo on and Felix smiled with satisfaction.

You looked over your shoulder, "is it good?"

Instead of replying, he placed a kiss on your shoulder, "you have very beautiful wings," he replied.

You giggled, and he helped you put on your shirt back again and left the buttons open.

"Now is my turn to pick one for you," you said, then took the fake tattoos from him.

Felix was quick to snatch it away from you, "you know what better than fake tattoos on me?" He asked.

"What?"

"The hickeys that you make," he answered.

You bit your lower lip, "where?"

"On my neck," he replied with a smirk.

You leaned in to kiss him before lowering your mouth to his neck and doing what he told you to do: marking him as yours.

And Felix showed off his hickeys like they are badges of honor while you sheepishly smiled because you were the one who made those. He was wearing a black t-shirt that only accentuates his light skin color, and that made the purple marks on his neck more prominent, ultimately whenever he craned his neck looking at his bowling ball going into the gutter several times already that night.

"I'm so bad at it," he groaned when he walked back to you.

You pulled him into a hug, "It's okay. That means you're good at something else," you cheered him up.

"Yeah," he said as he wrapped his arms around you, ignoring that there were other people in the bowling alley that night.

"Like what?" He asked with a sly smile.

"Like kissing me," you cheekily answered.

"Babe, you can always ask me if you want it," he said to you before sinking his mouth on you.

After finishing bowling with you winning against him, and consoling him with more kisses, you both got out of the bowling alley holding hands to the parking lot.

"Ready to go home?" He asked you, the moment he sat on the driver's seat.

You sighed because you didn't want it to end, you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

"I don't want to go home," you honestly answered.

He looked at you and pressed his lips together, "do you have somewhere you wanted to go?" He asked, hand reaching to put a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Yes," you shortly answered.

You went back to the hill where you both first went out together and parked right on the very same spot.

"Anything you want to do?" He asked you.

"Let's watch the sun rises,"

"It's only 1 am, babe," he said to you with a chuckle.

"Well, we can do something while we wait for it," you said, shooting him a gleeful smile at him.

He raised his eyebrows in wonder, "I have a game on my phone that we can play together," he playfully said.

You frowned then got out of the car. His eyes followed you as you opened the backseat door and got in, "Get in here!" you ordered him.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, half-laughing.

The moment he got into the backseat, you pulled him into a kiss, and things escalated real quickly from there. You took each other’s piece of clothing in a rather haste manner, hands impatiently touching the exposed skin as soon as the clothes were off.

Felix lifted you to sit you on his lap, his hands gripped your waist and ran them to the small of your back to bring you to close, then kiss you. You lowered your hands from his chest down to his stomach, to his chiseled abs where his muscles felt so firm under your palms.

He kissed down your neck, then dragged his hot mouth down your chest, hands hastily unclasp your bra, and brought his mouth on your breast as soon as he got rid of it.

He withdrew his mouth then reclined on the seat, putting his hands on your chest to admire the smoothness of your skin, glimmering under the dim light and so soft under his touch.

You shuddered at the way the tips of his fingers softly grazed your skin and the way his hooded eyes filled with so much awe and lust at the same time at the sight of you.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured with his hands resting on your ribcage.

"Mark it," you told him.

He looked up at you, and for a second. he thought he misheard you.

"I want you to mark it," you repeated and brought his hands to your breasts.

Felix licked his lips until they were glistening with his saliva before taking your breast in his mouth and began sucking, placing gentle kisses before finally making his marks on the flesh.

You pressed your mouth shut to muffle your yelps of pain until he was done marking your chest with his mouth.

"You are mine," he remarked as he looked at the blossoming marks on your skin.

"I am yours," you said back then put your hands around his neck to kiss him again, kisses where teeth and tongue clashed, kisses that were intoxicating and as addictive as the cigarettes that he smokes.

Kisses that made you lower all of your guards and gave your will to your body.

You unbuckled his belt and pulled it down just enough to get his erection sprung free, then impatiently ran your hands up and down his length.

"Wait," he whispered against your mouth.

Holding you from falling off, he put one hand around your waist as his other hand reached down for his wallet. He pulled out the familiar foil packet then ripped the wrapper open with his teeth.

"Let me do it," you offered.

He nodded.

You took the condom from him and slowly rolled the rubber down his length him holding your hair from draping around your face.

He pulled your head up once you had done putting the condom for him and kissed you so deeply, so dizzying like he was sucking the oxygen out of you.

You let go of his kiss with a gasp and smiled at him, "baby, I need to breathe," you muttered.

He chuckled, "that's why I'm giving you a mouth to mouth resuscitation,"

He tightened his hold around you and pulled you again for a kiss. One of his hands went down to your wet core and slipped inside your underwear, his thumb circling your bundle of nerves repeatedly that forced low moans to spill out of your mouth. His eyes enjoyed how your face contorted and slacked in pleasure from his gentle touches on your delicate flesh.

He put your underwear to the side and ran his fingers down your slit like you weren't dripping already.

"So wet for me," he said the kissed the inside of your arm.

One hand on your waist and another aligned his cock at your entrance, he signaled you to start easing down on him.

You both let out a moan at the same time as you kept lowering yourself on him and him from filling you.

"You take me so well, babe," he said to you when he was fully inside you.

He caressed your back and down to the curve of your ass all the while you were grinding on him, feeling his whole length inside you.

The car was rocking due to the intense activity inside the car, you fucking him as he held you close and endlessly whispering you with sweet nothings that did nothing but get you closer to your climax.

His mouth occasionally sucked on your nipples and pinched them, making you yelp in pain and aroused at once.

But he loves when he heard you moan like you were in pain and that it made you clench around him.

He did it a few more times, tugging your nipples between his teeth and gently pulling at it.

"Baby," you mewled but kept the motion of hips going and moaned again, the moan resounding in the small space of his car.

"I love when you moan like that," he said to you, then captured your lips for a slobbering kiss.

You both cum around each other not long after, holding each other so close as both of you relishing the immense pleasure, Felix rubbed your back with his hands and peppered your shoulder with small wet kisses.

"Come here, give me a kiss," he said as he turned his head so he could kiss you on the lips.

You gave him a long peck on the lips, and it reminded you of something, you looked over your shoulder and spotted the abandoned pack of cigarettes on the dashboard of the car.

"You said I tasted better when I don't smoke," he said, knowing that you were eyeing the cigarettes.

"Yes, you are," you said to him, then gave him another peck.

"I don't smoke so I can get a lot of kisses from you," he added.

Trying to stop an addiction is extremely hard but his willingness to at least, try not to do it whenever he was with you was also an effort that needed appreciation.

"Thank you for doing that for me," you muttered to him.

He sighed delightfully and smiled at you, "and you better kiss me a lot,"

He drove you home right after you both watched the sun rises and immediately ran back to your room before your parents found out you weren't in your room.

Once you were back inside your room, you opened your curtains. and he was there waiting for you by his window, you waved your hands at him before finally collapsing onto the bed to sleep.

Tonight, you felt a little empty that you couldn't spend the night with him since you had to wake up early to drive your father to the airport for he'll be talking at a seminar.

You tossed and turned on your bed, pulled up your duvet up to your chest then closed your eyes.

At first, you thought you imagined the tapping sounds on your window because of how much you wanted to be with him. The sound amplified, and you got off the bed to check it, opened the curtains, found him right outside your window.

You quickly pulled open the window and stuck your head out, "how did you-" then you saw that he climbed the tree that grew close next to your window, and he was sitting on one of its trunks.

"Stepped aside, I'm coming in," he said to you.

You did what he said and watched as he stepped inside your bedroom through the window then closed it. He sighed triumphantly for successfully entering your room safely,

"You're not going to kiss me?" He said as he looked at you standing in the corner of the room.

You walked up to him and melted into his hug, tilted your head upward to let him land a kiss on you.

"I can't sleep without seeing you first," he whispered, then lowered his mouth on you.

His hands that were on your waist moved down to your hips, and he halted his kisses when he realized you were wearing tiny teensy silk shorts that barely covered your ass.

"I'm glad you didn't get out much," he said to you, his eyes traveling down your body and up again, then saw your nipples poking through the thin camisole you were wearing.

"Your body is mine to explore," he stated as if you were his treasure that isn't to share with anyone.

You both got on your bed and lay so close to each other as if the bed wasn't big enough for two persons. He lay next to you with one arm around and under your head, the other slipping under your camisole to touch the skin on your stomach.

"Should I take a break from college and stay here with you?" You asked him.

He exhaled, "didn't you work hard to get into that university?"

"Yeah,"

"Well, I don't see why you should do that,"

"I want to be with you," you said again, "and also, the other students are way ahead of me. They're smarter and cleverer than me, I don't think I can catch up with them," you explained, you couldn’t believe how you blurted out the real reason why you reluctant from going back to college after the summer end.

"There'll always be someone smarter and cleverer than you," he said, "but what makes the difference is the hard work,"

You got quiet from listening to his words.

He removed the hair that curtained your face to the back, "I think you are better than giving up because they're smarter than you," he traced your jaw with his finger, "you are going to work so hard and prove yourself," then ran a thumb over your lips.

"Right?" He asked for a confirmation.

"Right," you replied.

"Good girl!" He praised then kissed your lips.

You sighed when he pried open your mouth with his tongue as his hand flew to the waistband of your shorts and didn't hesitate to slip his hand inside.

"I'll make you sleep so tight tonight," he said against your lips when his hand landed on your cunt and gently traced the folds.

"But we have to stay quiet," you reminded him.

Felix inserted one finger inside you without warning, and a loud moan escaped your mouth.

"No," he said, "you have to stay quiet," as he pulled out his finger to add another digit and pushed two fingers inside.

The whole drive to the airport was excruciating, not the drive but the quietness of it led your thoughts to an endless pit.

When your mother woke you up this morning, Felix was already left, you felt relieved of course, but the way he left without telling you made you think over what you said to him before you fell asleep.

You told him that he should start meeting your parents so he could take you out during the day and not only at night, you sensed something was amiss the moment you said and saw his jaws tense. Or maybe he left simply because he didn't want to wake you up, and you settled on the latter no matter how much your logic denied it.

"You're so quiet," your mom said without looking away from the road ahead.

You stifled a laugh, "I couldn't sleep last night," you lied.

"Really? I could barely wake you up this morning," she said.

You rubbed your neck out of groggy, if only she knew what you did in your room while she was sleeping.

"Am I seeing things? or someone is sitting on our porch holding flowers?" She exclaimed as she pulled up to the house and parked the car.

You grinned as you saw Felix sitting on the stairs, getting up as soon as he saw you arrived while holding flowers in his hands.

"Aren't you the son, wait, is it Felix?" Your mom asked him.

He cleared his throat and rubbed his palm on his jeans before speaking, "I'm sorry that I haven't properly introduced myself, I'm Felix," he held out his hand.

Your mom took his hand and shook it, "You're very good looking," she shamelessly said, making you almost wince at her words.

You saw Felix sheepishly smile at your mom, "and this is for you," he gave the flowers to her.

"Yellow tulips!" Your mom exclaimed with so much enthusiasm, she loves flowers and intended to grow them herself but didn't know how to.

Your mouth hung open and suddenly felt odd watching them talking in front of you, it felt like you were third wheeling them, not the opposite.

"I was thinking if I could take your daughter for lunch?" He asked, then shot you a wink since your mom was busy smelling the flowers.

"Lunch, dinner, you can take her wherever you want," she answered.

"Mom!" You nudged her elbow.

"Responsibly, of course," she added.

"I'll make sure to not bring her back home late," Felix said. Your mom laughed, "she's 21 years old, she doesn't have a curfew anymore," she said, then tapped his shoulder, "I'm just glad someone taking her out of the house!"

"Mom!" You groaned again.

Felix smiled politely, " if you excuse us?"

"Sure, sure, you two have fun!" Your mom said, then climbed the stairs to unlock the door.

You glared at him as soon as your mother got inside the house, "were you trying to seduce my mom?"

"If only I knew her sooner," he said with a sigh.

You groaned, "Ugh, I can't imagine,"

"Don't tell me you're jealous?" He asked with a sly grin painted on his face.

You rolled your eyes at him, "are we going to get lunch or not? Because I'm starving," you said to him as you walked toward his car.

"I'm right, you're jealous," he teased as he unlocked the door, "You should be because your mom is cool and hot too,"

You groaned out loud and plopped on the passenger seat.

"Isn’t it nice going out on the day?" You said to him and took another lick of your ice cream, "we can have lunch together and have ice cream after," you added.

Felix scooped a big chunk of ice cream from the bowl and shoved it into his mouth, "No, I don't like it," he said.

"Said the one who ate most of the ice cream," you sneered.

He looked different during the day, the most visible were the dark circles under his eyes then the faint freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Other than that, he's still the same Felix with the same brooding eyes and the same smiles that radiate so much warmth.

"Want to have a dessert after?" You asked him.

"Aren't we having our desserts, right now?"

You shook your head, "not this dessert,"

Felix squinted his eyes at you, "in the middle of the day?" He asked you.

He must have a lewd thought, and you quickly shook your head again.

"What then?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Pick the one you want!" You ordered.

You walked among the trees of an apple orchard that belongs to a family of one of your high school friends.

"Find the ripest and juicy one!" You added as you also looked up at the apples hanging from the trees.

Felix pointed to one that hung low enough, "that one!" He said, "that one looks like the forbidden apple!"

He then squatted down on the ground, and you came up to him, wrapping your legs around his neck before he slowly lifted you on his shoulders.

"A bit to the left," you instructed, and he complied, taking a step to the left.

You reached up and took the apple in your hand, gripped it tightly in your palm, twisted it to pick it up.

"I got it," you informed him.

He held his hand up at you and handed him his apple.

"Can you move, hmm..." you looked around, eyeing your apple, "three steps to the right," you ordered.

"Got you," he confirmed, then took careful steps to the right.

You did the same thing, the stem was easily removed from the branch. Thanks to your friend for teaching you how to properly pick an apple, and how to know it's ripe.

"I got mine," you told Felix.

He slowly lowered himself until it was safe for you to jump off his back. You sighed in relief when your feet were on the ground again while Felix panted.

"I'm sorry. I must be heavy," you muttered.

He was unable to speak but gave you a thumb up.

You heard someone coming in your way, you immediately took his hand and said, "we have to run, now!"

"But didn't you know the owner of the orchard?"

"Well, the whole town knows them," you told him.

You looked around and heard the voices of people closing in, "Run! Now!" You yelled, then dragged him behind you as you broke into a run.

You drove back to the hilltop and sat on the hood of the car, the sun was getting low, and the air temperature lowered, making it warm and pleasant in the afternoon.

Felix bit into his apple, the juice spilling from the corner of his mouth.

"How is it?" You asked him

He chewed on the fruit for a moment then swallowed it, "forbidden fruit is the sweetest," he remarked.

You gleefully smiled at him and bit into your apple.

Felix brought out a quilt then spread it on the hood of the car so both of you could lay down while watching the sunset.

You lay on your side facing him with his arm under you as a pillow, your hand flew to his cheeks to touch his freckles, "you should get out more and get some sun for your freckles," you said to him.

He stayed quiet then turned his a head at you. He stared into your eyes with unwavering eyes then grabbed your hand by your wrist and kissed the inside of your hand.

"If you can die from sadness, can you also die from happiness?" He asked you out of the blue.

You scrunched your nose in confusion, "why are you asking that?" You asked him.

He sighed, turned his head, and held your face, "because I'm so happy right now, I think I could die," he said, then gave you a tender kiss on the lips.

"You made me so happy," his voice broke at the end of the sentence.

You almost cried because you could feel how sincere and genuine his feelings for you made your love for him more intense, and it cannot be changed, reversed, or recovered.

And just like that, one summer day turned into an eternal one, one that you'll remember for the rest of your life, and like how the sun sets for the day, there was no way of getting back from that.

He drove you home afterward, but instead of parking right in front of your house, he parked his car by his house.

"There's no one in the house," he quickly said to you before you protested.

He opened your car door then led you into the house, and he was right that there was no sign of people inside.

"Where's everyone?" you asked.

"They went out to see a musical," he shortly replied.

"And you're not coming with them?" you asked because you always used to have your parent insist you come with them to such occasions.

"Because it's kind of my sister thing," he answered with a shrug, then pulled you by your hand to take you upstairs.

It wasn't hard to guess which one is Felix's bedroom because his located right across from yours.

The first thing that caught your interest was his records collections on the shelf and the vintage-looking record player next to it.

You walked up to see your bedroom through his window, and it felt weird as if you saw yourself through the other side of the mirror.

"This is how you watch me through the window," you said to him.

He raised an eyebrow at you, "I have the best view in town," he replied.

There was a study desk on one side of the room with a laptop that was still on, you nudged the mouse controller that made the screen lit up and showed a file that he probably was working on.

"Are you working on something?" you asked him.

He sat on the end of the bed and took off his boots, "That would be the college assignment," he replied.

Felix saw the surprised look on your face when he mentioned college,

"I took online classes," he elaborated, "why? You think I'm just doing nothing during the day and dating you by night?" He asked, reclining on the bed with hands propped behind him and spreading his legs.

"Of course not," you quickly denied, "you know I didn't mean that. It's just that you never told me anything about it," you defended yourself.

Felix chuckled at the slight horror on your face, "I know," he resolved, "I never told you because it was just a boring topic to talk about," he said.

You sauntered to his dresser and observed things that sprawled on top of it, from ID photos to ticket stubs.

You spotted a childhood photo of him on one of the framed photos, "Aww..." you cooed, "is this little Felix?" You asked him while showing him the picture.

He groaned, "babe, put it down and come here!" He ordered.

"Can I take this photo, please?" You begged.

He shook his head, "put it down!" He commanded.

You ignored him, opened the back of the frame to take the photo but Felix was quick to pull you by the belt loop, sending you tumbling onto his lap.

"Why don't you let me have it?" You complained then straddled him on the bed.

"You already have me," he casually answered.

You softly laughed at his answer.

"And also, that is not why I'm taking you here," he said to you, putting his hands around your waist then tugging the hem of your t-shirt.

You stopped him, "are you sure your parents won't come home soon?" You asked him, afraid that they might come home anytime.

"Yes, because after the musical, my sister would ask them to buy her ice cream before leaving," he assured you.

"How do you know?" You asked.

"Because I went with her several times already,"

You hesitated for a while but eventually caved in, slowly letting go of his hands to let him take it off of you.

He captured your lips in his, kissing you with such passion with both of his hands on your neck. He didn't waste time unclasping your bra next then kissing the skin between your breasts after.

He grabbed your breasts in his hands and put them into his mouth, sucking and licking the hardening buds in turns.

You tugged at his hair when he sucked on the flesh too hard, "Felix, please!" You whined.

He groaned against your skin and tightened his hold around you. He shifted on the bed to lay you down and rested your head on his pillow that smells just like him.

He took his top off then lowered himself on top of you with his head buried in your neck.

You were so lost in each other's touches with mouth continuously connected.

When you heard a car engine closing in the house, you both instantly sat up on the bed.

"I think my sister has her ice cream on the cone this time," he said to you, he quickly collected your t-shirt and bra from the floor and handed it to you.

Felix frantically put his t-shirt back again then helped you slip your arms into your t-shirt. He pulled you by the hand to go back downstairs before his family entered the house, ran to the kitchen, and got out through the back door.

You waited for his family to enter the house before running back to the front of the house, then walking to your house.

Felix pushed you to your side of the wall and laughed.

You laughed along with him, "that was close," you exclaimed.

"I know," he said, but he took it differently, he pinned you against the wall and kissed you.

The kiss lasted for a few moments, you let him have his way and tasted you as much as he wanted until eventually, he broke the kiss.

"How come I never get enough of kissing you?" He asked.

You gave him a peck on the lips, "well, you have exceeded your quota for today," you playfully stated, then gently pushed him away by his chest.

He leaned in quick, but you dodged away from him quicker, "No more kisses!" You sternly said.

He groaned with his mouth on your shoulder, "This is why I hate taking you out during the day. I hate to say goodnight to you," he said to you.

You held his face and placed kisses on his face except for his mouth, "Goodnight," you said back to him, then finished it with a kiss on his neck, a soft feather-like one that always worked wonder on him.

You walked away from him, but he was quick to pull you by the hand, he hugged you so tight and squeezed your ass so hard you gasped.

"You bad girl!" he beamed, then kissed you on your neck, sucked on the skin so hard to leave a mark right there.

"Good luck trying to keep it hidden from your parents!" he said as soon as he let go of his kiss.

He walked backward in the direction of his house with a smirk on his face.

You said a quick goodnight to your parents as soon as you arrived home from picking up your father from the airport. It was barely midnight but when you opened your curtains, you could see through the closed curtains that the lights in his room were off.

You spotted his car was parked right outside, and it was impossible that he was already asleep at this hour.

You decided to take a shower since you waited hours at the airport because your father's plane suddenly got delayed for two hours.

You were standing under the shower when you heard the shower curtains slide open and screamed out of panic.

His hand flew to cover your mouth, and it was when you realized it was Felix.

When you calmed down, he let go of his hand.

"How did you-"

"Through the window," he quickly responded before you could finish the question.

But you heard footsteps coming in, then Felix immediately jumped inside the tub, you shut the shower curtain.

The door opened not long after, and your mom poked her head in, "I heard the scream! Are you okay? What's wrong?" She asked you.

You clung to your shower curtain, "Nothing. I accidentally set the water too hot, that's all!"

Your mom sighed in relief, "okay then. Be careful, goodnight!"

"Goodnight, mom!" You replied before she finally closed the door.

You turned around to face him, "what are you doing?" You asked him again.

"Look at you lying for me," he cooed, then placed his hands around your face and kissed you so deeply.

The beads of water on your body seeped into his clothes.

Felix frantically took off his shoes and all of his clothes before joining you under the shower.

You saw the hickeys you made on his neck, and collarbone had turned blue on his skin. He held you close as soon as he got himself wet with the warm water. "I miss you so much," he said to your ear.

And you put your hands around his neck as you whispered back, "I miss you too," and it hurt because it was true.

He pushed your body to one side of the tiled wall and caged you with his arms, lowered his mouth on your chest, then made a trail of kisses down your body until he kneel in front of you.

He lifted one of your legs, kissing your inner thigh and licking drops of water with his hot mouth before finally, finally putting it on your throbbing core.

You looked down and saw him were looking up at you through his lashes, sticking out his tongue in kitten licks, and teasing your clit.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair as a support, and you could only hope that the sound of the water running would be enough to drown out your loud moans.

"Is your daughter home?" Felix asked the second your mom greeted him by the door.

"She's upstairs busy packing her things to get back to college," she answered, then letting him come into the house.

Your mom called your name out loud, and you came tumbling down the stairs in a hurry, knowing your mom won't stop calling you until you are right in front of her.

"Mom, I'm busy," you said to her.

"There's a Felix looking for you," she said as she pointed to the man sitting on the stool next to the kitchen island, "he's joining us for dinner,"

You got surprised because he didn't say anything about coming to your house and would be having dinner with your family.

When your father came and saw Felix, he asked, "Who is this?"

Felix got up from his seat and introduced himself, "I'm Felix from next door," and stuck his hand out.

"Hello, Felix from next door," your father said back then shook his hand.

Thankfully, the dinner went well. Your parents asked him a few questions, but none of them seemed to discomfort him, you saw his feet bounce under the table, and you placed your hand on your knee to calm him down, he abruptly stopped and flashed you a smile.

After getting permission from both of your parents for taking you out for the night, despite it would be the umpteenth time you both go out at night, Felix said goodnight to them then walked to the car.

"Have a second thought on flirting with my mom?" You teased as you got in the car.

"I don't think I can compete with your dad. He's cool," he replied, then started the car engine.

He took you to see a band playing in a pub tonight, the place was already crowded with a lot of people when you got in. Felix excused himself to get both of your drinks before the show started.

You felt a hand on your shoulder that made you instantly turn around.

"I didn't know you are in town!" The guy said.

You looked at him and recognized him as a friend from high school, but you couldn't remember his name.

"It's me, Lee!" He said to you.

"Oh!" You gasped.

He went on to hug you, and it was too late to avoid it since he went in right away.

"Are you here for the summer?" He asked again, taking a step closer to you since the pub got crowded with more people.

"Yes," you hastily answered.

"I don't think I have your number," he said, he held out his phone at you, "can you-"

You quickly took his phone and entered your number since people began brushing your shoulders as they walked past you.

"Let's hang out sometimes," he said as he slid his phone back into his jacket pocket.

"Uh... I'm not sure," you hummed, then forced a smile, "I'll be back to college soon," you said.

Felix came behind you, handed you your drink, then put his arm around you in a possessive way, "who's this?" He asked.

"My friend from high school," you replied.

Felix pulled out a cigarette and put it between his teeth, "I'm her boyfriend," he said to your friend, more like a statement than information.

"I'm Lee, I'm her friend," your friend kindly introduced himself and held out his hand at Felix.

Instead of shaking his hand, Felix pulled out a lighter to light his cigarette. You got upset because your friend was trying to be nice, but he ignored him like that.

Your friend slowly retracted his hand and shoved it into his jeans.

"You two have a great night," he said before turning around to leave.

Felix took a drag of his smoke, and a curl of smoke escaped his mouth.

"Hey," he called out to him, and your friend turned around, "don’t you dare call her, she's mine," he said, and he never sounded this bitter.

You shot your friend an apologetic look before leaving out of sight.

The band started playing in the background, and the loud music filled the room, and you pushed him just enough to send him staggering backward.

"What is wrong with you?" You asked him.

"He was trying to get in your pants," he replied.

You scoffed, "he was just trying to be nice. He's just a friend,"

He smirked, then took another drag of his smoke, "babe, we both know he wants to be more than a friend to you," he said.

"Especially if you give out your number easily like that to him," he added.

You pushed him harder this time that his back hit the person standing behind him then stomped outside.

You were so upset you didn't realize you were crying until the night air felt cold on your cheeks. You roughly wiped them with the back of your hands and walked across the parking lot.

"Where are you going?" He shouted as he ran towards you.

You ignored him and kept on walking, clutching your jacket together.

He grabbed your elbow and pulled you close.

"Get off of me," you said to him and yanked your hand away from him.

But he pulled you into a hug instead and wrapped his hands around you, not willing to let you go.

"Get off," you shouted again and tried to break yourself away from him.

That only made him tighten his hold around you, "I'm not going to let you go until you calm down," he sternly said to you.

You stopped resisting and cried into his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he repeatedly said on top of your head and cradled your head close to his chest.

"I want to go home," you mumbled against his chest.

Felix sighed, "Okay, let me drive you home," he said.

The drive home was quiet; you stared out the window the whole time to avoid looking at him. He was being an asshole tonight, and you didn't want to let it slide easily, it was so unlike him, so sensitive and hot-headed.

And the way he spoke to you earlier, like you were just some easy girl he just met, not the one he had been with for the last three weeks and sleeping with almost every night.

Your heart burns as his words keep replaying in the back of your head like a broken record.

When he pulled up in front of your house, you took off your safety belt and got off of his car without saying anything.

"You come home early," your dad said when he saw you coming in from the front door.

You looked down so he couldn't see your puffy eyes, "the show is canceled," you shortly replied, "I'm going to my room, goodnight," you quickly muttered, then climbed the stairs to your room.

Without turning on the lamp, you lay facing down on your bed and cried until you fell asleep.

You woke up in the middle of the night as you felt someone was there beside you on the bed, he snaked his hand around you and placed a rose in front of you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered to you.

You didn't reply but put a hand under your head as he held you close.

Felix pushed his nose close to the crook of your neck, "I hate to be reminded that you'll be gone in less than a week," he admitted, "that, and I hate that you smiled at the other guy as you did to me,"

You felt his body heat on your back as he shifted his body so close to yours on the bed, "I never love someone this much, it scares me," he said to you, then placed a tender kiss on the skin behind your ear.

You felt a twinge on your heart from the way he uttered his words as if it pained him just from saying it.

"The way you said those words to me, I hate it," you choked in your words as tears started welling up in your eyes, "so bitter, out of spite,"

Felix held you protectively, "I know, I hate myself for that," he said to you, "I get it if you don't forgive me, but please, don't ignore me like this," he pleaded.

"I feel like I'm losing my mind without you," he hopelessly said, "I need you," he said with his mouth on the nape of your neck.

And you needed him as much as he needed you, you turned on the bed to face him and saw his face, that shade of cool he usually has on his face replaced with a sad one.

"I hate you," you said to him.

"You can hate me as much as you want," he said back and took your hand in his to kiss it.

"I hate you so much," you said again.

"I deserve that," he replied.

Yet you melted almost immediately as he pulled you into his hug, rubbing your back with his hands and letting you drink in the scent of him: of sunshine, freshly cut grass, and a hint of smoke.

He lifted your head above him, brushing your hair from covering your face, and held it there, "I fucking love you so much," he said to you, with that deep voice of him that sent a shudder down your spine.

"I love you," your voice broke at the end of the sentence.

You quickly pressed a kiss on his mouth, which he eagerly returned with the same enthusiasm, holding the back of your head and angling his face to deepen the kiss.

He turned you over and had you pinned underneath him, you ran your hand on his neck only to slide his leather jacket down his arm.

He took it off for you, then his t-shirt next; his bare upper body looked smooth and marble-like under the pale moonlight that shone through your window.

He lowered himself and kissed you again, hands slowly taking off your clothes, and you did the same with his.

Your bedroom was littered with both of your clothes, and with the duvet, you accidentally kicked out of the bed as your naked bodies slithered around each other.

"I don't have any condoms," he said to you, sounding a little panicked.

"It's okay," you said, "I'm on the pill,"

"Is it alright with you?"

"Yes,"

Felix tried not to lose it as he entered you without any protection, feeling you completely would easily strip off all sense of control he has in him.

You spread your legs wider for him as he pushed in all of his remaining lengths into you, ever so gently not to hurt you.

He growled when he fully bottomed out, his fingers lifted your chin,

"Are you okay?"

You smiled at him, "yes,"

He gave you a peck on the lips, "you feel so good, babe," he praised you with a hand rubbing the side of your thigh.

He began moving against you, thrusting slowly and as shallow as possible with his hands as pillars on each side of your head and eyes that didn't break the contact even for a mere second.

You touched his chest and abdomen, endlessly roaming his body as you had never touched him before and admiring how beautiful he is.

Your moans became louder at the intensified pleasure, Felix helped you muffle it by pressing his mouth on you. Your hands clawed his biceps and probably made crescent marks on the skin.

"Felix, I'm so close," you told him.

"Let it go, babe," he encouraged you.

Felix watched you as you let out breathless cries of pleasure when you hit your high, calling out his name repeatedly like a vesper.

He cum inside you not long after letting out the deepest growl you ever heard from him so close to your ear.

You hummed in pleasure when he lowered himself on top of you to plant more kisses on you without pulling out of you.

He made new marks on your chest since the previous ones he made were already turned pale yellow.

You held in your painful gasps when he sucked the skin too hard and bit it, pulling on his hair to lessen the pain.

He licked the mark he just made, then kissed you on the lips,

"You're mine," he said, "only mine," he said again, then carefully put all of his weight on you.

You held him close and felt his heart beating so close to yours until your breathing became synced with each other.

You tightened your hands around him at the sudden realization that he could bring so much happiness and sadness as easily as turning his hand. That is how much power he holds over you.

"And you are mine," you muttered back.

Using the rose, Felix trailed your marked chest with it and whimpered when one of the petals fell off when it touched your nipple.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his eyes crinkled against the dark of your room.

You played with the hair on the nape of his neck, "when did you buy it though?" You asked out of curiosity.

"I didn't buy it," he said.

Your eyebrows shot up in a slight shock.

"I picked it from Mrs. Kim's garden across the street," he replied, now the rose traced your lips in a circular motion for his mouth to finally take over.

"Felix?" you softly called him

"Yeah?"

"Take me on a date," you ordered.

"You want me to take you on a date?" he repeated your request just in case he misheard you.

"Yes," you replied.

You heard him sighed on top of your head, "okay," he replied then held you close until you both fell asleep.

The next morning, he was gone.

You got anxious when you didn't see his car parked outside his house, you reminded yourself that maybe he got to do something himself because it wasn't always about you and him being together all the time.

He has a life outside of you.

You checked for his room through your window from time to time, and nothing.

You lay on your bed facing the window hoping he would come, and ended up falling asleep with a restless mind.

The next day, still nothing.

No car, no sight of him. It was like that time all over again, but this time, you felt like slowly losing the grasp of your sanity the longer you didn't see him.

You didn't bother to check for him the next morning.

You went back to reading your book to take your mind off of him, it was a fruitless effort because you kept losing focus and had to reread the page at least two more times before turning a new page.

When you were on the verge of your breaking point, that was when he came back.

You heard the tapping on your window, you badly wanted to give him the taste of his own medicine but the urge to see him was too irresistible.

You walked to the window and opened it, you stuck your head out, and there he was, by his window and waving at you.

He held out a carton with writings on it:

"I'm sorry. I had things to do. I should be talking to you right now, but..."

"My sister is sick and sleeping now."

He dropped the first carton and turned into a new one:

"Look, I know you're mad, but please, hear read me out,"

"I'm sorry it took a long time for me,"

He turned to another page:

"Do you want to go on a date with me?"

You pursed your lips while thinking of an answer even though it was obvious what it would be. You stalled on giving him the answer as a way to get back to him.

He turned another page:

"I was thinking movies then dinner then..."

"A lot of kisses?"

He drew the glassy eyes emoji at the end of the sentence.

You smiled at how adorable he was right now, that was just how much he could influence you.

He looked around your house before turning a new page that said:

"And we can do more than kisses after"

the hurriedly dropped the carton down on the floor before anyone else sees, he held out another:

"yes or YES?"

You giggled again.

He dropped the last carton and placed his hands together to beg you.

"Please?" He mouthed to you.

You stifled a nod, "yes," you mouthed.

He punched the air with his fist, then bit the fist to contain his excitement. He quickly wrote a new message on the carton then held it up at you.

"I'll pick you up at 8?"

You nodded again then closed the window since you have to pick an outfit for the date later.

Felix rang your doorbell just right on time and not long after that, your mom called you downstairs. You spritz some perfume on your neck, wrist, and inner arm, then take a last look at the mirror before heading downstairs.

Felix was talking with your mom at the threshold and it was like one of those moments in the movies, where the guy waits for the girl at the base of the stairs.

His face lit up when he saw you descending the stairs, wearing a red dress with your hair down, not that you weren't beautiful to him before, but this, you were stunningly beautiful he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

You giggled when you noticed he was wearing a formal white shirt with black pants and top it off with his signature leather jacket. He looked dashing, like out of a magazine pictorial.

His smile grew wider when you approached him.

"Ready to go?" He asked you.

"Yes," you answered.

Felix turned to face your mom, "I'll make sure to bring her back safe," he said to her, "have a great evening!" He greeted her before taking you out of the house.

He opened the car door for you, and you smiled at him before getting in.

He sighed when he sat down on his seat, "I never take a girl out for a date before," he admitted.

"Are you trying to brag that you have girls taken you on dates before?" You joked.

"Yeah, kind of," he joked back.

You playfully punched him on the shoulder but then leaned in for a kiss.

No matter how much he wanted to kiss you, he shook his head no,

"I'm saving all the kisses for later," he said to you as he caressed your cheek, his breath smells of spearmint, he must have taken one of those mint candies he used to eat.

You held his face with both of your hands, "Are you really Felix?" you teased,

"New and improved," he remarked.

You chose a romantic comedy, not for a cliche reason, but the options were this or a horror movie. And Felix, as cool as he sounded, was not a big fan of horror movies.

He put an arm around you, and you rested your head on his shoulder, feeding him popcorn once in a while.

"We should have chosen the other movie," he said to you.

"It's okay. I don't care about the movies as long as I'm with you," you said to him.

He squeezed your arm, "how do you always know what to say?"

You lowly laughed then looked up at him, "why? do you want to kiss me now?" You teased.

He looked at you, his eyes darted to your lips, then shook his head, "No, I still can handle it,"

"But I taste salty and buttery now," you said, then pursed your lips at him.

"Nice try!" He said, putting his hand on your chin to turn your head back to the screen.

Right after the movie, just like what he had planned, he took you for dinner. Instead of taking you to a fancy restaurant, he took you to a burger joint. You might have looked overdressed, but who cares?

You sat on one of the booths with Felix sitting across from you.

"We can go to another place if you want to," he told you.

You shook your head, "no, this is just exactly what I like," you assured him with a giddy smile.

When your order came, you dug in right away. You haven't eaten anything but popcorn since this afternoon, you were too busy preparing for the date.

"I used to wonder why people sit facing each other when they're on a date, but now I get it," he said.

"It's the eye contact, and I get to see your face the whole time and watch you eating so well," he added

You suppressed your laugh.

He looked at you with a hand propped under his chin, "you're so beautiful, babe,"

You quickly chewed on your food and swallowed, "You did not just say that while my mouth is full of food," you mumbled.

"And the ketchup on the corner of your mouth is kind of sexy," he added with a thumb between his teeth.

"Oh?" You quickly search for a napkin.

He reached for your face, and you leaned forward so he could wipe it for you, "there," he said as soon as he wiped it clean with his thumb.

"Thank you," you muttered and grinned at him.

He went to sit next to you when he was done with his food, putting an arm on the headrest of the seat.

"You changed your mind about the sitting position?" You asked him.

"When I think about it, I think people on a date should close next to each other," he said.

"Why?"

"Because they can see each other better and closer," he explained.

"And?"

"And they can hold hands," he said, taking your hand on the table and clasped it with his.

"And?" You asked.

"And they can kiss," he answered.

You softly chuckled, "are you going to kiss me now?"

He leaned in so close, "I don't think I can resist it anymore," he answered, then crashed his lips on yours so tenderly.

He was relieved he got to taste your lips again after a while, it was like having a glass of water after quenched his thirst for so long.

You stopped him before the kiss became too racy, aware that you were in a public space.

"I like this dress," he whispered.

He traced the neckline of your dress with his finger, then rubbed your side to tug the hem of your dress between his fingers.

He pushed his mouth close to your ear, "why don't we go somewhere where I can take this dress off of you?" He whispered to you.

His deep voice never fails to send a shudder down your spine, like he cast a spell on you that made you unable to say no to him.

He did what he badly wanted to do to you, taking off your dress by pulling the zipper down your back. The dress slid down your body almost instantly, sending it pooled around your ankle.

You took it and put it on the car seat, you helped him take his shirt off next, unbuttoning it one by one with his eyes looking at you.

When all the clothes were off of your bodies, Felix held his hand out at you, and you took it. You both walked into the lake, carefully going into the water with him steadily holding your hand, and you followed his lead.

It was like that night he took you swimming in the lake, but this time, you were skinny dipping with the full moon shining above you.

You squealed when he lifted you in the air before bringing you back into the water, then clinging to his shoulders.

He held you close, hoisted you higher against him, and he looked up at you as drops of water dripped down from the end of your hair.

As you looked down at him, looking into his eyes and the moonlight that reflected on them made you realize how beautiful he is.

You kissed him, and he returned the kiss with the same passion, in that moment, the world belonged to you and him.

With the summer was about the end, the night air started to feel cold, you got out of the lake shivering and hugging yourself.

Once you got inside the car, you sat on his lap as he wrapped a quilt around your bodies and huddled together in the backseat.

You sat with your feet up and curled into a ball on his lap, pressing your cheek on his chest to feel his body heat.

He rubbed your shoulder then kissed it, "is it warm enough for you?" He asked.

"Yes," you answered with your eyes closed, "how about you?" You asked back.

"I got a giant cat on my lap. I think I'm alright," he said.

You purred on his chest like a cat.

He chuckled and patted your head endearingly, then kissed the top of your head.

"Ready to go home, now?" he asked once you both got dressed and he put his leather jacket on you.

You groaned, "No, I still want to be with you, and it's only 11!"

He popped another mint candy into his mouth then smiled, "Well, as a gentleman, I have to send you home early,"

You pouted.

He turned the key on the ignition, "you're the one who asked for a proper date!" he reminded you.

"I know," you whined.

He patted your head, "Once I get you home, you can have your favorite Felix back!"

"All Felix is my favorite," you said.

"Yeah..." he began driving the car back to the main road, "but your favorite Felix is less of a gentleman than this,"

Your mother was filling her glass with water when you came back from your date.

You grinned at her when she saw you walking up the stairs.

"It's not even midnight, and you already back," she said to you.

"He insisted on being a gentleman today," you replied from the top of the stairs.

It was funny because your mom thought it was a joke when actually it was the truth.

"I'm going to sleep, goodnight!" you greeted, then hurriedly entered your bedroom.

When you turned around after closing the door, Felix was already sitting on your bed and grinning at you.

He wrapped his finger around your neck and his other hand circled your clit while his hips thrusting in and out of you from behind.

You took the hand that was on your neck and shoved his fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans. You sucked on his fingers instead.

"You keep clenching around me, babe!" he said into your ear.

He placed a wet kiss on your neck, "if you keep doing that I might cum too fast," he said again.

But you couldn't control it, the intensity of his thrust only pushed you closer to your climax, and every drag of his length around your walls was immensely pleasurable to you.

You pulled his fingers out of your mouth, and a string of saliva dribbled down your chin, you turned your head to meet his, "cum inside me, fill me," you said to him.

He growled against your neck, "fuck," he cursed.

His thrusts turned sloppy and out of rhythm, he bit your shoulder to muffle his grunts.

His hand went to grab your breast and roughly pulled on your nipple, making you yelp in pain.

You climaxed a moment later, pulling his head to pull him into a kiss and to contain your high-pitched moans.

Felix followed, cumming inside you while placing soothing rubs on your thighs as he released all of his seed inside you.

"Take all of me, baby," he said against your lips.

He dragged your body closer to him and was not willing to pull out of you yet.

He kissed you again and murmured sweet nothings to you for every kiss.

"You drive me crazy, babe,"

"I can't get enough of you,"

"You are phenomenal,"

"fuck, I'll get hard when I think of this,"

And you smiled against his lips.

"Thank you for today!" you said, nuzzling your head to the crook of his neck, "the best date I've ever had," you hummed while rubbing his forearms that rested on your wasit.

He placed a kiss on your shoulder, "are you that happy?" he asked.

You looked at him, "Yes, very, very happy!"

He smiled, "I have a favor to ask,"

"What's that?" you asked.

He held your hand, "can you hold on to this feeling whenever you think of me?"

His eyes were intensely looking at you, sparkled like two dark marbles. You didn't want to find out what drove him to ask such a favor.

You nodded and said, "Yes"

"I have another favor to ask you too," you said.

"Yeah?"

"Let's just spend as much time as we can before I leave," you said to him.

His eyes fluttered shut, and after a while, he nodded.

"Okay," he said, then held you close on the bed.

His answer didn't quite comfort you, it was like a point mark at the end of a sentence, like the pitch-black screen at the end of a movie, it sounded final, like a goodbye.

And you were right, that was the last time you saw him.

You understood that he was scared of letting you go and chose to run away from it because it was easier and less painful than living every minute of being reminded that you will be leaving.

What scares him the most was because his feelings for you were real.

On that very last night, you waited by your windowsill as a last resort to meet him.

You heard the roar of his car engine and immediately rushed downstairs, then got outside. He stopped his car as soon as he saw you come running to your front yard.

You got into his car without saying anything, it was reek with the cigarette smoke, and you saw an empty pack on the cupholder.

"You broke your promise," you said without looking at him.

"I don't think I promised you anything," he said with a loud sigh.

"Are you really that scared?" You asked him, turning your head at him this time to look into his eyes.

"Scared of what?" He asked.

You didn't answer but kept staring into his eyes.

"You are scared because it's real," you said.

"Should I remind why did you run away here? Isn't it because you're scared?" he snapped.

You scoffed but quickly calmed yourself down, "that makes the two of us then," you remarked.

Somehow you always knew that you two are mirror images of each other. You were drawn to each other because you were so much alike. You showed each other’s best and worst, you felt insecure around each other yet sought comfort in each other's presence.

You are a twin flame. You set each other ablaze the moment you met, and together your flames became brighter, better, and then out of control, an inferno.

You took the last look at him, feeling sad for both of you and that things ended like this. You burned each other out until there was nothing left but smoke and ash.

"Goodbye, Felix," you said to him, ignoring the fact that your heart burst into a million pieces that very moment.

The flames flickered off the moment you got out of the car.

And maybe it was true, that it was better to burn out than to fade away.

taglist: @ft3rachaa @skkzkyy @wooyoungs5lut @a-hyunjinshairband @cloudyybinin @bangcrispychannie @staysstrays @mainexiii @yubinism @minaamhh

IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway. 

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges. 

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned. 

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip. 

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron. 

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind. 

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched. 

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.” 

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.” 

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?” 

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant. 

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find. 

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful. 

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.” 

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain. 

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf. 

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all. 

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun. 

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way. 

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season. 

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones. 

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs. 

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today. 

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted. 

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later. 

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears. 

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung. 

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat. 

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.” 

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember. 

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong. 

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides. 

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. 

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them. 

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family. 

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake. 

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. 

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep. 

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own. 

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.” 

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world. 

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.” 

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own. 

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning. 

“But I can’t.” you choked. 

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you. 

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair. 

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend. 

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night. 

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles. 

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?” 

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you. 

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.” 

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.” 

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder. 

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?” 

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going. 

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking. 

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?” 

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater. 

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder. 

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin. 

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others. 

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it. 

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub. 

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear. 

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias. 

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by. 

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm. 

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating. 

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this. 

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting. 

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view. 

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers. 

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance. 

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything. 

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does. 

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible. 

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused. 

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away. 

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes. 

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust. 

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile. 

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench. 

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul. 

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?” 

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!” 

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back. 

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?” 

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with. 

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate. 

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him. 

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt. 

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest. 

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.” 

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set. 

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays. 

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat. 

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh. 

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face. 

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further. 

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine. 

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out. 

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything. 

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat.. 

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him. 

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm. 

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.  

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics. 

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot. 

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.” 

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points. 

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?” 

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home. 

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. 

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true. 

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin. 

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick. 

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. 

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life. 

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles. 

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him. 

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home. 

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways. 

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover. 

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. 

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip. 

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand. 

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual. 

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet. 

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass. 

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon. 

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no–  I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment. 

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.” 

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair. 

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I love you.” you say first this time. 

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony. 

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless. 

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs. 

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter. 

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?” 

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin. 

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room. 

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks. 

You nod, slowly. 

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds. 

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.” 

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock. 

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving. 

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around. 

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded. 

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked. 

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle. 

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving. 

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere. 

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored. 

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks. 

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say. 

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals. 

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place. 

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips. 

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

Sauna Syncope b.c

Warnings: MNDI, fluffy smut with just a pinch of plot, oral f receiving, slight overstim, soft dom!chan, passing tf out, touching y/n while unconscious but not sexual, cussing duh. Lightly edited

Synopsis: I saw a TikTok (rip) where someone said that something like this happened in the dark romance she was reading (unfortunately she did not drop the rec). Chan is a munch, and the physical and sexual heat cause y/n to lose consciousness.

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Bang Chan has been traveling for work a lot recently, and even though you understand it's just part of his job and weren’t upset with him by any means, he decided he wanted to “make it up to you” by taking you on a long weekend trip before he has to go back out of town. As it is winter in Korea, he rented out a villa for you guys to have romantic getaway in the snow covered mountains. The day you arrived, you questioned if the location truly mattered at all as you two barely left the bedroom. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and while that might be true, you know for a fact that it makes your lust expand exponentially. Weeks of pent up desire flowing between you. With you both being on different sleep schedules, you end up staying up into the early hours of the next morning for round after round, but they don’t feel like separate events, each flowing seamlessly into each other more like waves of passion and intimacy ebbing and flowing.

It's rare you can get Chan to sleep in late with you; he's such a busy body, always feeling as if something needs to get done. Last night must have exhausted him as much as it did you; although he still woke up before you, the time was on the brink of midday. If you two were home, he’d be flying out of bed rushing to be productive in one way or another, but here, he snuggled up against your sleeping form drinking in your warmth and light snores and sighs. He's committing every moment to memory to get him through his next stint of being apart from you. His tender touch draws patterns over your exposed skin gently rousing you from your slumber. When he notices you stirring, he pets with more force shifting to massaging your arm and shoulder that are sticking out over the duvet attempting to keep you from drifting back to sleep.

“Morning, Babe.” His groggy voice makes your heart flutter. He plants a firm kiss to your forehead before trying to slip out from under the covers and off the bed, but your newly found sentience allows you to sling your arms around his waist to stop him. Your arms are weak due to your sleepy state, but you don’t have to exert any force for him to fold, halting his movements and sliding back next to you giggling. You lay in bed for another half hour snuggling, rubbing, and sharing lazy kisses. He finally gets you to let him go with promises of breakfast for lunch.

After fueling up on food and coffee, you two bundle up, putting on lay after layer before venturing out into the snow. You make a cutesy family of snowmen and toss a few snowballs, but it doesn’t last long as a rogue ball hits you in the chest and explodes in your face. Chan feels so bad, he keeps apologizing and insisting you hit him back, and when you refuse you have to stop him from shoving his face in the snow in your honor.

Before you had left the house, Chan had turned on the sauna to heat up. While playing in the powder was delightful, the frigid air was starting to burn your skin and chill your bones. The warming steam of the spa was calling to you. When you decide to go inside, Chan tells you to go on without him because he needs to quickly send some emails, god forbid he goes a day without doing at least a little work.

After peeling off your wet outer layer and leaving it by the fire to dry, you head back to your room to strip the rest of the way down and put on a robe only to remove it when you get to the steam room, grabbing a small towel before entering. The room is so hot against your chilled skin, it almost stings as you’re defrosted. You find a seat on the wooden bench and practically melt into it. Not only does the radiating heat feel heavenly warming you up but it also helps release any tension or soreness left from yesterday’s salacious acts. The temperature and humidity in the room is so high that it's a little difficult to breathe, but besides that, it's serene, like being swaddled in a cloud. The bench is deep enough to lie down, but you opt for scooting back into it so you can rest your head on the back wall lifting one of your feet and resting it on the edge, stretching your hip just right so that you cant help but let out a sigh. With your head tilted back, you close your eyes and place the small towel over your lids, letting your body go limp and be swallowed by the heated mist. A layer of sweat and condensation starts forming on your skin gathering and falling down in rivulets, but you can't bring yourself to even care to wipe them, so tranquil you don't want to move a muscle. That sentiment remains when you hear the door open and shut; it can only be one person, so you don't bother looking, but when a minute or two go by and he hasn’t said anything, you gather the motivation to raise the towel off an eye to peek for Chan. You find him bare, having discarded his matching robe at the door presumably when he saw your lack of modesty, on his knees in front of you, hunger in his eyes and a loving smirk on his lips.

“You’re a vision, Y/n. My goddess” speaking in a sultry but hushed tone as if he’s just talking to himself, as he reaches forward to grab your hips and pull you to the edge.

He begins his worship by scattering wet kisses on your thighs, his plump lips almost cooling on your hot skin. Working up higher and higher with each kiss, he lingers on the marks he had left on your skin little more than 12 hours earlier. He makes his way to your mound, covering you with more sweet affection.

“Channie” you sign his name. He lets out a soft sound of acknowledgement mixed with a moan, the sound stoking the fire inside. Your inner heat growing to match the external one. He finally plants a sloppy kiss over your clit earning a hiss as you suck in a breath through your teeth.

“Oh, you're so good to me,” praising him.

“It's only what you deserve, Baby” mumbling into your cunt, refusing to remove his lips even to talk. His kisses on and around your sensitive bud become longer and more powerful, eventually switching to gently sucking as he uses his fingers to toy with your entrance, just barely dipping the tip of his index in and out. Instead of continuing with his fingers, Chan moves his tongue to take over for his digit. Licking into your opening, savoring every bit of your arousal. Rubbing his nose over your slick and swollen clit, knowing you go crazy for it. It's not long before you feel your release coming.

“Fuck Baby, I’m gonna…oh” drawing out the last word as your orgasm racks through you. Chan smiles up at you as he continues to lap at your center, face flushed and loose curls sticking to his quickly dampening forehead; you’ll never get over the sight of him between your thighs. He allows his tongue to slow as he eases you down from your high, but he doesn’t pull away. Soon Chan is slowly slipping two fingers into you, inducing a prolonged groan.

“Sounds so pretty, Babe”, his compliment and slow curling of his fingers cause a string of curses to leave your lips as you try to put together a coherent sentence. Between pants you manage to get out,

“Chris… I don't know if I can… again.” You’ve already cum so many times in the past day, it's hard to imagine having another.

“Need me to stop? I just want to make my love feel good” He always takes both your pleasure and concerns very seriously.

“It feels so good” you whine out with your head tossed back.

“Hmm I think you can do it. Just one more, Y/n. For me.” You don’t have to look, you can hear the cheeky smile in his voice. He remains devouring you while working his fingers in perfect time. His soft licks to your clit are sending jolts of pleasure through you, and Chan is loving watching your squirm on his tongue. Volume raising and thighs squeezing around his head, he knows what is coming.

“That's it babe, doing so good”

“Fuuuh,” is all you can get out, shaking and whimpering. The air feels thick, not just with lust, but the steam and heat are starting to get to you. Your breaths are becoming strangled, if you were smart you’d ask for a break to steady your heaving chest, but it feels so unfathomably good and you’re so close to bursting. Chan’s free hand wraps from under your thigh and drags up it before reaching out to interlace your fingers. The tender gesture causes your pounding heart to lurch and send you reeling as you cum yet again shuddering against Chan’s face. Just as the peak passes and relief floods your mind darkness takes over your vision. You don’t have time to panic before you lose consciousness. This wouldn’t be the first time you blacked out from pleasure, but it is the first time you didn’t immediately wake up.

When you gradually come to, the first thing you hear is running water and feel cool water flowing over you. Opening your eyes, you find yourself on the built in granite seat of the shower in the master bathroom.

“Hi Channie,” you whisper, pulling him from his focus as he wiped your body with a soft rag. A sigh of relief escapes his lips.

“Hi my baby. How do you feel?” he asks calmly but with poorly masked concern on his face.

“I’m great. A little sleepy but so happy. How long was I out?” you ask groggily.

“Just long enough for me to get you to the shower, so only a couple of minutes, but it felt like an eternity. I knew you’d be okay once I got your body temp down, but shit, if that wasn’t terrifying.” he says with a bit of a nervous chuckle before continuing,

“No more sauna for you” he commands.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m okay now,” you attempt to rise to your feet, but are met with Chan's strong hands on your shoulder holding you down.

“Sit your ass down. You’re not walking anywhere, at the very least until the end of the day. You might feel fine now, but I'm still making you a doctor’s appointment to get checked out just to make sure nothing is wrong. Now just sit there while I finish washing you. I give you a little show while I get clean to keep you entertained. Then, we’ll go cuddle and watch something. Deal?” he asks as if you have a choice.

You spend the rest of the vacation trying to convince him that you are totally fine, and while he says he believes you, he is still doting on you even more than usual.

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A.n- thanks for reading :) if you saw me post this earlier, no you didn’t. V sad about the tt ban. Where am I supposed to watch edits now?

-mo ❄️

Masterlist

!! DONT SKIP !! donations urgently needed They are only at €5,561 out of €50,000 goal

I was contacted by Nader to draw pictures for and help spread his brother Abdulsalam Al-Anqar’s fundraiser to save their family. Nader is a 17 year old boy who lives in Gaza with his family: parents Ahmed (54) and mother Iman (49), brothers Abdulsalam (26), Mohammed (14), and Omar (21) and Abdulsalam’s wife and their one year old daughter Iman. Imagine it was your sibling, your friend, your son, who should be in school or with his friends, who instead has to hide from bombs and ask for help online to save his family. His family have suffered through one year of genocide. All of you are their hope to get to safety.

This fundraiser is vetted by @gazavetters, number four on the spreadsheet here

Abdulsalams daughter Iman is only one year old and has lived most her life in a war zone. She is suffering from malnutrition. It’s every fathers worst nightmare to see their child starve and not be able to feed her. Please help him feed his daughter and get her to safety. No child should grow up hearing the sound of bombs. Every child has the right to food and safety. You can help give Iman the childhood she should have, where she can sleep in a safe bed at night with a full stomach.

Their father Ahmed has cancer and needs surgery and medication. It is not possible to get the treatment he needs in Gaza. every day his illness is left untreated, the cancer will continue to spread through his body, so he very urgently needs money for treatment and travel. If you help them get to their goal, you are saving their fathers life. Don’t let this family who have already lost so much lose their father, husband, and grandfather

Nader has showed me pictures of this explosion close to them, thankfully they were able to get away. Every day they stay in Gaza their lives are at risk from israeli bombs. Every day and hour counts. I know there are compassionate and kind people who are willing to help. every euro helps, YOUR donation will bring them one moment closer to safety. With love and hope I’m asking you to give what you can, I believe in the kind people of the world and I beg you to not let them die. If you can’t donate, please share so it may reach people who can.

Never forget that palestinians are not numbers on a list of deaths. Please think of each of them, think of their names and faces and know that you can help them. I think of them every day. I think of the hopes and dreams they should achieve, I think of their education, their future, and the love they show when they work hard every day to get help. You may feel powerless to stop this genocide, but you have the power to save Abdulsalam and his family. I dream that the day will come soon where they may use their days to rest and recover from what they’ve been through, where they can share a meal and laugh and the children will play, instead of having to use their time to beg the world to listen and help them. We can make this possible.

50 000 euros is a lot of money for one person to give, but for all of us together, it can be done. Please don’t look away.

(drawing above by @neechees)

Thank you for reading their story. Please don’t keep scrolling without sharing

here is the link again to their fundraiser

tagging for reach:

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