Mary Oliver, "The Fourth Sign Of The Zodiac." Blue Horses

blondes are done with fun ✲ h. renjun

pairing. journalism student! renjun x journalism student! fem! reader starring. huang renjun, lee donghyuck, yoo jimin, huh yunjin genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. angst, fluff, smut warnings. alcohol consuption, swearing, renjun is a dick at the beginning, sexual content (fingering, unprotected sex) word count. 31k (31.320) a/n. awsten knight please stop making music so i can stop writing fics about your songs thanku. also this is my first smut please be gentle with it also if you're my friend please don't read the smut parts orif you do dont tell me abt it or i will literally kms

playlist. cherry red - waterparks ; fake happy - paramore ; heaven angel - the driver era ; blonde - waterparks ; disaster - conan gray ; raspberry - grouplove ; black butterflies and déjá vu - the maine ; fuck about it - waterpakrs, blackbear ; robbers - the 1975

a rumor has it that the popular couple in town broke up after years of being together. having to share your favorite seat in class with the male part of said relationship, you try to find out how to make your heartbroken project partner warm up to you— or— huang renjun goes blonde when he's sad.

✲ PART 1 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

“A rumor has it Huang Renjun and Huh Yunjin broke up,” is the first sentence that lands into your ears when your feet cross the imaginary border of the school premises one early morning, a cup of coffee in your hand as your best friend Jimin breaks the news to you, walking by your side into the university building.

Snapping your head around to look at her in shock and surprise at the news, eyes wide in question, you’re already invested in the love life of your classmates more than you probably should be, but due to multiple reasons that could explain it; one of them being the ordinary human curiosity– mainly created in your brain thanks to the fact that these two had dated for as long as you can remember– another reason being the gossip-oriented side of your personality– the part of it you like to explain through the fact that you’re a Journalism major and the love for gossip is just another part of your (hopefully) future occupation– and the last reason, the one that is probably the most harmless of them all (or maybe the most, depending on how you look at it) is the mere fact that while Huang Renjun had been a taken man for as long as you remember, he is also insanely attractive, and you’re just a simple woman. The idea of him being finally attainable is irking something in your brain, and even though you would feel embarrassed to admit this out loud, you can’t help but wonder what happened between those two after such a long time that made the legendary couple– iconic, even– break up. 

“What happened?” you ask, walking alongside the girl as you round the corner of the hall, in a rush to get to your morning class. The two of you slept in by accident, watching too many episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians last night to notice the clock striking well past midnight, and now the journey to school was more difficult than it already is, with your dorms situated 30 minutes away and the class starting at 8 o’clock sharp. The time is now 7:58AM and while you’re already in the building and yours and Jimin’s classes are different, they are both on the fifth floor– and with the frequency of your visits to the gym, the way up there is hard not only because of the time pinch, but also because of the shortness of your breath when you rush to walk up there in less than five minutes before you have to take the walk of shame to your desk, watched by the professor with passive aggressive eyes.

“Nobody knows,” Jimin heaves out, taking two steps at once now, “I just heard from Yizhuo that Yunjin deleted all of their Instagram posts together and she supposedly stopped wearing that necklace he got her for their anniversary. Oh and also, Renjun didn’t drop her off at school on Friday, so something must be up.”

Humming in agreement, you rush up the stairs, the halls already emptied out because all of the students are hidden in their respective classroom. You manage to keep your voice down in case anyone’s listening in on your insensitive gossip, now that your voices aren’t drowned out by any other noise. “That’s weird. They’ve been together for so long, I’m starting to lose faith in real love if they really broke up.”

“No, yeah, I know,” Jimin squints as the two of you finally reach the fifth floor, the girl checking the time on her wristwatch huffing out at the sight of already being late, “something bad must have happened, if they really broke up, because the two of them didn’t seem like they’ve had any problems, you know.”

“Definitely,” you nod, pacing along the hall as you finally reach the door to your classroom, waving your roommate off with a tight-lipped smile, still trying to catch your breath. “I’ll see you after class?”

The girl doesn’t even turn around as she agrees with you, long legs striding down the hall into the last classroom on the left, waving at you with her right hand. “See ya!”

Silently opening the door to the classroom, you notice the professor already standing at the very front of the class, turning around to look at your figure once the almost unhearable noise of the door cuts through the silence in the room. Offering her a shameful smile, you hurriedly scan the space, feeling the eyes of everyone glued to your sweaty and out of breath body, as you try to find a place to sit. Your usual seat is right at the corner of the room, at the very back– it has the window in close accessibility, so you don’t have to worry about being too hot or too cold, depending on the weather, because you regulate the freshness of the air in the classroom. The window also provides a good distraction to you once the class gets too boring to listen to, so you’d say with 100% sureness that the desk you chose to sit at the very first day of your Journalism class was the best option. 

However, when you look at the usually empty desk for two– one of the chairs, the one closer to the corridor being your handy armrest as well as a place to put your coat and bag on as you sit on the other one, the one closer to the window– you notice a man sitting at your usual place, eyes glued to the whiteboard. Feverishly scanning the classroom once again, realizing in terror that there is no other empty space for you to sit at, you sigh in annoyance as you near your usual desk, cursing the intruder in your brain for breaking the unwritten seating plan. 

Taking the bag off your shoulder, you softly land it to the ground, afraid of making any noise that would interrupt your professor’s lecture again. After sitting at the chair and trying to listen to the words coming out of your professor’s mouth, trying to see what she’s talking about, you find yourself drifting off into the mess of your thoughts, choosing to daydream about the amazing lunch you’re about to have once your classes are over for the day, your eyes knowingly moving away from the whiteboard to their place out of the window. It’s a little harder to gaze out of it in the different position– you tell yourself you’ll come earlier next week so the intruder doesn’t take away your spot again and you can go back to your usual plan of watching people walking through the campus and making up fake stories about them in your brain– when your periphery vision takes notice of the side profile of your seatmate, the curve of his nose and the slight pout of his upper lip sparking interest in you as your brain finally connects the dots.

Only slightly moving your head to the side, so your seatmate doesn’t notice you staring, you observe Huang Renjun sitting at your desk. The image in front of you (or beside you, to be precise) surprises you to an extent nothing has ever surprised you before (no, not even the birthday parties Jimin has thrown you have made this effect on you– but that’s probably because she can’t keep a secret and always spoiled the surprise), and once again, there are multiple reasons for your surprise. To list a few, you’d start with the fact that Huang Renjun almost always sat at the same desk with his girlfriend Yunjin– the desk was at the very opposite corner of the room, leaving you to occasionally observe the couple as he landed a hand onto her thigh or let her put her leg into his lap, away from the eyes of the professor– but due to the news that were broken to you just a few minutes prior, maybe this is the only reason that shouldn’t surprise you with the sight of Renjun sitting by your side. Continuing the list, you’d state the fact that the boy looks lifeless– his eyes lost their usual spark and there are dark circles adorning his lower eyelids, the sick look making you feel almost sorry for your classmate. And to finish the list, you’d state the fact that takes you by surprise the most– the one that shocks you to your core, for it’s the reason why you didn’t recognise the boy when you first sat down in the first place. His hair is now bleach blond, and while the look definitely suits him, it’s something different, something new– because for as long as you can remember, not many things changed in Renjun’s appearance over the years, and you’re not so sure if you can consider this as the side effect of his breakup, or if he really just wanted change.

Blinking at the male, as if to make sure that you’re not dreaming, you take notice of the dead strands falling into his eyes, contrasting well with the darkness of his eyes. Once again noting that you’re just a simple woman and Huang Renjun is simply put, a very attractive man, you can’t help but gaze at him with a newly found interest, everything you’ve learned about the male this morning irking you with undeniable curiosity.

The sad and embarrassing reality of it all is, though, that you’re not the only one who gets that weird feeling of someone staring at you in public sometimes, only for that feeling to be true as you turn around and see someone with their eyes burning through your skull; Huang Renjun gets them as well, it seems, as he turns his head to you with his eyebrows furrowed, as if to silently ask you why the hell you’re creepily staring at his side profile in the middle of your Journalism class. The two of you were never close, despite sharing multiple classes over the course of multiple semesters, and so being caught only made you feel more embarrassed as you sharply turn your head towards the front of the classroom– so much for being subtle and nonchalant about it, erasing all the possibility of playing it off in the process– feeling heat creeping up your neck. 

This is not how you imagined your morning to go.

Trying hard to pay attention to the class instead, in order to both learn something and also forget about the events happening only a few seconds prior, there’s no use as your brain now decided to replay the moment over and over again, making sure you never forget about it and randomly think of it in the middle of the night 5 years from now, still not moving on from the shame. In the process of trying so hard to focus, you actually do quite the opposite– as if your brain decided to turn off from the essence of humiliation instead to protect you– and before you notice it, the class is over and everyone is scattering out of the classroom with their things and bags hung over their shoulders. At least it’s finally over, you think, when a voice lands into your ear, shaking you out of it.

“We’re doing the project together,” he says, and as you turn around to face the owner of the saccharine voice to inquire him on what the actual fuck he’s even talking about, before you get the chance, the man is already out of the room, leaving you standing in full dumbfoundance.

Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to the class, after all.

Next week, even though you arrive to class earlier than the last, it seems like your designated seat in the corner of the classroom is now your and Renjun’s designated seat in the corner of the classroom, and if you’re being totally honest, this is exactly the thing you did not expect to come up on your Junior year bingo card. Talking over the whole interaction with Jimin right when you got to dorms– alongside with the takeout you ordered in the restaurant that’s at the corner of the street– the both of you stared into your plates with a newly found sense of absolute, utter confusion. 

You also had to shamefully text one of the only classmates from your Journalism class whose number you have– Osaki Shotaro, who you had a thing with in Freshman year because you thought he was an exchange student and would go back to Japan after summer, surprising you with his smiley face in the class in your Sophomore year (and this year, once again) as you had to be reminded of making out with him at a party every time your eyes landed on the poor boy– about the assignment. The truth is, you could just ask Renjun when you got into class, but you also wanted to spare yourself the embarrassment of that action. Through your fling from Freshman year, you learned that you have to work in pairs on a magazine of some sort– and while the assignment still wasn’t clear to you, after Shotaro ended the text message with ‘i’m sorry tho, i already have a partner ://’, you didn’t have enough dignity in you to pry him for any more information.

Clearing your throat as you step inside the classroom with an encouraging slap to your bottom coming from your roommate walking along to her usual class at the end of the hall, you walk over to your seat and put your bag onto the ground, silently sitting on the chair next to the corridor– the thing that makes you the most furious about this whole thing– as you prepare for the next lecture. From what you’ve gathered, the assignment was 70% of your final grade, and you really didn’t feel like failing your most favorite subject, especially if it’s something you could see yourself doing in the future. Working on something like this with someone you’ve hardly ever spoken to was a scary feeling, though. 

The class starts as soon as the noise of footsteps fills your ears, your professor standing at the very front of the classroom announcing her arrival with a heartfelt smile on her face. Sometimes you wonder if it’s her cheery demeanor that makes you like the class so much, but then again, you’ve always been interested in the topic– her character is just a bonus.

“Hello class,” she greets, full of energy despite it only being 8 in the morning, “I decided that instead of following with the lectures today, I will leave you some space to plan out your final project for the class. It has the weight of 70% of your grade, so it’s kind of important, so make sure you plan it well and come up with something original and interesting. The contents are 25-35 pages and you have until the end of the semester to complete it, so I hope you all put in some effort!”

Nods and hums of understatement are shared along the class, the pairs turning to each other in soft murmurs as some even take out a journal to note down all the things they come up with. You think it’s not a bad idea to at least brainstorm a little, but with how awkward you feel at the moment with your project partner sitting right next to you, you don’t think you can start. And the thing is, Jimin told you you could just pick a different partner– but as you look across the filled classroom, you really don’t think working with anyone else is possible, since you don’t have many friends in this class and everyone seems to be paired up already. Huang Renjun is your only choice, and although it doesn’t fill you with relief, you wonder why he chose you, when in reality, he’s the popular one– he has many different choices to pick from. Maybe he was just too lazy to ask anyone else. Who knows.

Clearing your throat again, you avert your gaze from the front of the classroom and try to sneak a look on your seatmate. The platinum blonde hair neatly styled on his head doesn’t fail to make you shocked again, but you figure you must start to get used to it now, because you can’t keep living with the constant urge to stare at the boy just because he dyed his hair. Waiting for him to look at you or give you any sign of the fact that he’s willing to work on the project, you continue your little staring contest with his side profile– it seems like he’s in the mood to ignore you today, so you gotta bring out the big guns and actually talk to him instead.

“So… how do you want to work on this?” you mumble out, nervously bumping your knee up and down. Human interaction isn’t your favorite thing in the world, mainly because you don’t like things you’re not good at– this includes sports, but mainly volleyball, drawing, knitting and mixing drinks as well– but you’d say with full confidence that making friends and talking to new people is truly the worst thing you could ever imagine. 

You notice that your seatmate finally recognised your efforts to spark up a conversation– he rewards you with a shrug of his shoulders as he not only does not look at you, but also decides to lay on the desk instead, closing his eyes as if this was the perfect time for him to catch up on his lost sleep. “Dunno,” he says, “we have plenty of time, let’s not do this right now.”

Blinking a few times at the male, you are once again struck by lightning that is his weird attitude to things. If this was how he behaved with Yunjin, you can’t blame the girl for breaking up with him– everything about the smug look on his face and the fact that he chose to take your favorite seat in the classroom makes your blood boil with annoyance. 

“W-what?” you stutter out, still not quite believing your ears. 

The man doesn’t reply to you– it’s too much effort, it seems– only making you angrier. Why did he even choose you as his partner if he didn’t want to work on the project in the first place? You’re no stranger to procrastination and leaving work for last minute, and you’re also not really a fan of the feeling of stress creeping up your back whenever you give in to the inevitable action of procrastinating; so if it comes to a project that is quite literally 70% of your grade, you would rather not do everything the week before.

Seeing that you’re getting ignored again, you put on your brave face as you fold your hands on your chest, determined to do something about the issue at hand. “Can’t you just put in some effort, man? I’d rather not do this last minute. I know that you probably don’t give a shit, but I do care about my grades, y’know,” you get out, seeing as the man next to you finally straightens his back and looks at you sharply– as if he has any right to point you with the killing look in this dark eyes– before he squints in mock agony.

“Do you really have to be such a fucking perfectionist?” he snaps at you, taking you by surprise. 

This is not how you imagined Huang Renjun to be. Looking at him over the course of the years, more often than not, you always saw the boy with a welcoming smile on his face. Whenever he was around Yunjin, he was all sweet words and gentle touches, erupting laughter whenever he was around his friends. When you were a freshman, somewhere in the back of your brain, you even envied the circle of friends he had around him, daydreaming about fitting in with them when you were lonely at lunch break. That was before you met Jimin at volleyball practice– the extracurricular you lasted in only for a week with the intention of making some friends (at least it worked) – and moved in with her in your second semester when both of your roommates decided to drop out. The girl provided you with undeniable love and care, and while you no longer desired to fit into a circle like Huang Renjun’s, talking to him now makes you feel like a child with crushed dreams.

“I’m sorry?” is all you get out as you stare at him with shock. If you were in a better mood, you would’ve searched through your brain to find a snarky remark to bite back at the boy. It’s too early in the morning and you weren’t prepared for his attitude, though, so you only opt to stare at him as he sighs in what you presume is annoyance– or defeat– as he scatters through his backpack and takes you a notebook, opening it to the first page and clicking his pen he found somewhere in the depths of his bag so he can write with it.

Too taken aback from his sudden change of mind, you wait for him to initiate any other action. You really don’t feel like getting screamed at again, so you chose to play it safe as you watch the man scribble the words Final project at the very top of the paper, underlining it two times and circling it five, the weird ritual making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“25 pages. We split half and half, so you can come up with whatever you want. We can do the design together and I really couldn’t give less shit about who works on the cover, so if you really want to do it, you can. Good?” he says, not once looking at you as he writes the words down on the paper. 

“Amazing,” you bite back with irony, shuffling your chair closer to the table so you can take a look at his notes, “the magazine has to have a coherent theme, though, doesn’t it? If we work on the pages by ourselves and just do whatever, as you said, it’s gonna be shit.”

You chose to accommodate yourself to the pattern of his speech– a habit you always do with new people, but in this situation, what feels the most safe. Seeing the man sigh again, twirling the ballpoint pen in between his fingers, he shrugs at your point and offers you a half-assed solution.

“We can figure that out later.”

Biting back a chuckle at his comment, it’s now your turn to sigh. Why was he being so difficult? Is it really that hard to make an effort on something important, especially when he was the one who said he wanted to work with you in the first place? Shaking your head in disbelief at his actions, you lean back in your chair and take out your own notebook, set on the decision of brainstorming as much as you can, hopefully coming out with some solid ideas you could incorporate in the magazine.

You have no idea what direction Renjun would go with. You don’t know anything about his interests or hobbies, and you surely don’t know what would inspire him or what he would want to write about. And with his new change of persona, you find him even more unreadable than he’s been in the past– and you can’t say you like the way he treats you right now. It seems like his sudden metamorphosis managed to change his brain synapses as well, because this is not the idea of Huang Renjun that you knew until now.

Chewing on the end of your pencil, you take a glimpse of your seatmate. He is messily scribbling something down onto his paper, seemingly realizing that the sooner you start working on this, the better, and with how full his paper seems to be, you wonder if this project won’t be that hard to complete after all.

“We’re doing the cover together,” you mumble out, seeing as the boy tears his eyes off his paper, glaring at you instead.

Almost expecting him to snap at you again, awaiting his suggestion that you will be the one doing all the work, you’re left with an answer that satisfies you with yet another surprise. “If you really insist…”

“Are you really sure you want to do this right now?” Jimin asks you as you put on your shoes at the door, slinging your backpack containing not only your laptop and notebooks, but also snacks just in case you get hungry. Looking at her through the hair falling into your face that you efficiently get out of the way with a poof of breath coming out of your mouth, you chuckle at her distress. The girl’s been watching you get ready for the last 15 minutes, with her robe on and bowl of guacamole in her right palm, eating up on the tortilla chips every once in a while as she squints at you with disbelief.

“Yeah, why not?” you shrug. “If he’s initiating this, I don’t see a problem. Besides, I think that if I don’t take every chance I get, I’ll end up working on the project alone, and I really don’t like that idea.”

Humming in agreement for the first time since you told your roommate that Renjun texted you if you wanted to work on the project today, Jimin motions to the phone sitting at the entryway table next to the front door. “Well, just make sure to text me if anything goes wrong and I’ll come pick you up,” she suggests, making you giggle at her noticeable worry. 

“Okay, mum,” you shake your head in disbelief, finally slugging the backpack over your shoulder and walking out of the door of your apartment. 

The truth is, you can’t really blame Jimin for her over-protective behavior. Ever since you retold her everything that happened that one time in Journalism class, she’s been wary of Huang Renjun. You would agree with all of her arguments of how much of a dick he is when acting like that, but you also don’t really think you have to put more energy into hating him at this moment, since it won’t really help you with your assignment and you don’t have any other choice. You are stuck with a grumpy project partner and that’s how the rest of your semester will go– you just have to learn how to live with his annoying remarks and snarky comments at whatever you say. Who knows, he may be in his ‘hating all women’ era, considering the breakup and all…

You can’t say you weren’t surprised when he added you on Instagram and messaged you about the project this afternoon, though. Considering that you were always the one initiating the talks about the final assignment over the course of the last few weeks, you weren’t expecting him to finally be the one reaching out. You would be stupid to not take him up on the offer, since you don’t know if it will happen ever again– who knows, he might have accidentally smashed his head into something and get a sudden revelation that is only a one time type of situation– and that’s exactly why you responded to him almost immediately (to which you admittedly, got a bit of an ick from yourself) and agreed to meet him at 6 in his apartment.

You were pleasantly surprised to learn that his place was only a 15 minute walk away from yours when he texted you the address, and after a few more minutes of scrolling through his Instagram that was private– and therefore hidden away from your eyes until now– you set yourself on the difficult journey.

Upon arriving at the apartment building, ringing the door bell and texting him to let you in just in case, so he knows it’s you, you start to feel a bit nervous, though. The truth is, you don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into as you walk into the elevator and press the button that takes you to the fourth floor– as he texted you the moment the door to the complex opened– and you think it’s safe to imagine you could be running out of that apartment at any given moment. Maybe Jimin was right and you should’ve taken at least some self-defense tools with you. You never know these days.

Once the elevator door opens and you step outside of the small space, you get prepared to take out your phone again to text him and ask which door leads to his apartment– the right or left– when you’re surprised with the sight of Huang Renjun already waiting for you in the doorway, loose sweatpants, messy hair and all, expecting your arrival.

Clearing your throat, you tightly smile at the male. “Hello.”

“Hi,” is all he responds as he moves away from the door and disappears into the apartment, seemingly thinking you're going to follow him and get inside, no questions asked. You expected at least an invitation to his premises, even a wave of his hand would be nice, you think, but you guess you can’t really have expectations that high when it comes to men– especially if the man in question is the insufferable Huang Renjun.

Taking your shoes off at the entrance– because even though your host doesn’t have good manners, you still do– the figure of Huang Renjun suddenly appears in the doorway of one of the rooms, watching you put the sneakers into a corner that seems to be designated for footwear. Looking up at him with expecting eyes, he finally breaks the awkward silence as he takes a step inside one of the rooms, calling you to go after him.

“We can work here, I guess,” he mumbles, leading you into what you presume is a living room connected to a kitchen– the place is not that big, but you are a broke university student too, so you don’t have it in you to judge. The place is surprisingly clean and adorned with multiple plants all around the corners of the room and windowsills, the only thing out of place being some dishes at the kitchen counter, waiting to be either used or put away, since they look washed. There’s a sofa in the shape of an L in the middle of it all, a TV sitting right opposite of it on a small TV stand, and when you notice an opened laptop on the coffee table, you presume that this is your work station for the day. You half expected him to invite you to his bedroom, but you guess that you can’t really complain– this feels much less awkward anyway. 

Nodding at his words, you move to the sofa and rest your backpack against the foot of it. Taking out your laptop as well, you sit crossed-legged at the soft cushions as you watch Renjun walk over to the kitchen side of the room, opening up a cupboard and taking out two glasses, bringing them to the crowded coffee table alongside with a bottle of soda. You think this is his way of welcoming you in as your guest, but you don’t have it in yourself to thank him– he’s the one being silent all the time anyway. You won’t put effort unless he does.

The boy silently takes a seat opposite of you, but chooses the carpeted floor instead of the sofa– a sight that almost makes you chuckle in amusement when he struggles to fold his legs in the small space– sighing and bringing the laptop closer to himself, rubbing a palm across his face in presumed tiredness. 

“Did you work on the ideas for the articles?” you ask, voice low, as if you were afraid to speak first, now that you’re in his space. “If they’re too different from mine, we can make like… sections… in the magazine… or something like that. But I think it would be easier if they correlated, you know.”

Renjun hums, not giving you many words this time either. He’s always difficult to work with, but today, it irritates you twice as much– maybe because you’ve gone out of your way to meet him at his apartment, when it was all his idea to work on the project today in the first place. Sighing in disappointment, the boy takes it as a hint that you expect more of him than tired hums and silent nods, and so he opens his mouth to speak, soft voice echoing through the silent apartment.

“I did,” he says, “don’t really know what you’re going for, but I have a short list.”

Satisfied with his answer, you nod. “Can I see it?”

Shrugging, he looks around for a while, eyes searching through the place as he finally finds the paper peeking out from the bottom of the coffee table– so much for the seemingly clean space– and offers the A4 format to you, scribbles in blue ink almost unreadable as you squint onto them, bringing them closer to your face. Once your eyes finally get adjusted to his handwriting, you manage to decipher a few of the words he’s written down; some of his ideas are neatly described, yet, some of them are just a simple word that barely gives you any idea of what he truly meant to say.

The difference between more thought-out ideas like ‘Karaoke songs (history, questionnaire of favorites across the campus…)’, ‘The importance of art in education’, ‘How to really use wikipedia’ and simple words like ‘campus’, ‘festivals’ and ‘soccer(?)’ almost makes you laugh out loud, but you note that the boy actually took the time of his day to work on the project like he promised you he would the last time you spoke about it in class, so you can’t really say anything mean to him, for you truly think it would hurt his pride. Nodding as you finish reading over the list, you offer the paper back to him, noticing him watching you with eyes full of undeniable expectancy.

“Satisfied?” he asks, irony seeping through his voice. 

Rolling your eyes at him– because of course he has to be annoying about everything– you choose to not play by his rules, opting to nod instead and let the tiniest bit of irritation show only through your ironic smile as you reply to him. “Very, actually.”

Seeing as he’s satisfied with himself, you choose to continue to lead this meeting with the same energy as to this moment. You think it’s the safest choice, and it’s also what he seems to be comfortable with, so you don’t beat around the bush and speak up again. “I think it won’t be that hard to combine our lists, since our ideas aren’t that different,” you note, cringing at the suggestion that you and the man in front of you actually kind of think alike, “but I think it would be nice if we chose a few topics and wrote about them together. I bet the professor would like to see some articles written by the both of us, so it shows that we actually worked on it together, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” he mumbles under his breath, taking you off guard. See, maybe you got ahead of yourself when you thought that this afternoon might go by smoothly– you forgot for a moment that Huang Renjun enjoys the idea of being a total ass to the people around him (or you, at least) these days. Huffing at his response, you furrow your brows in disbelief.

“Why not?”

“Just… don’t wanna,” he answers shortly, shrugging in nonchalance.

The sight of him in front of you, not even sharing eye contact as he points his gaze towards his laptop, makes your blood boil. What does he even think of himself? You were starting to think that Jimin was right– you should’ve rethought this interaction over and spared yourself the trouble, because this was surely not going anywhere.

“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you were clearly the one that told me we were project partners, so I don’t know why you’re being so difficult about this-” you huff, but are instantly cut off by your partner.

“I’m being difficult?”

“Yes,” you jump in, “yes you are! And I don’t get why you even invited me over to work on this, when you clearly don’t have the slightest intention to do so in the first place!” you complete, almost ready to stand up from your place on the light-brown sofa and storm out of his apartment. 

He chuckles at your outburst, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not in the mood to work on a stupid project after arguing the whole day on the phone with my cheating ex-girlfriend,” he mutters.

The moment those words come out of his mouth, it seems like the already silent apartment gets even quieter. Staring at him in dumbfoundance, the spark that ignited the anger in you suddenly dies out as you ponder on your next actions. Because what does one do when your project partner suddenly overshares possibly one of the most traumatic and heartbreaking facts about himself so casually, in between snarky comments and a petty argument? Sure, you do feel sorry for him now– because no matter how shitty a person acts to you, nobody deserves to get cheated on– and you suddenly wonder if the whole change of atmosphere in his character isn’t the direct result of this very fact. 

You can’t tell him that you’re sorry– because frankly, you know that Huang Renjun doesn’t want your pity. He doesn’t want to hear that you feel sorry for him and what happened, because you’re not friends and you’re not close enough for you to express such feelings towards him. A question arises in the very same essence, though, making you wonder why he even chose to share this information with you in the heat of the moment in the first place, and even though you could excuse his lack of motivation to work on the project by this fact, it still doesn’t change the reality that he was the one initiating the whole thing, and suddenly, you feel confused. 

He invited you over to work on a project, even though his mood was shitty and he didn’t have the motivation to do so. One would find that ridiculous, but if you really look past the sharp eyes and the bleached mess on his head, you could see the true intention behind his actions– the poor boy just wanted a distraction. And with how empty his apartment seems to be right now– his roommate, Donghyuck (a person that Jimin shares a Finance class with, as you learned this very afternoon) is nowhere to be seen– you only bet you were the last option he had instead of wallowing himself in pity and terror. 

Jimin would argue that you’re stupid for your next actions– you would even agree, because this truly doesn’t feel like you– but still, despite going against yourself in a way, you close the laptop sitting in your lap and reach over to the soda he placed in the middle of the coffee table, pouring yourself a glass. You don’t leave his apartment like you fantasized of doing just a few minutes ago; instead, after downing the sickeningly sweet liquid, the bubbles hurting your throat, you rest your back against the sofa and watch the boy in a new light.

“Okay, let’s not work on the assignment, then,” you calmly say, “wanna watch something on Netflix instead?” you ask, seeing him staring at you with confusion in his expression.

“I don’t-”

“It’s okay if you don’t have it, I can log in with my roommate’s account. She’s probably watching Single’s Inferno right now, but I’ll text her to find something better to do instead,” you don’t let him finish his sentence– because you already know that he’d try to protest to your suggestion– shrugging in nonchalance as you reach over to the TV remote you find sandwiched between the sofa cushions.

Turning the TV on, not even sparing a glance to the grumpy-looking boy sitting on the floor opposite of you, the shuffling of clothes and socked-feet on the ground lands into your ears, a figure taking the remote out of your hand when you can’t figure out how the TV works, a low mumble full of fake offendance masking the shameful, yet clear gratitude in his voice.

You don’t miss it as you look over at him with a tight-lipped smile, though, seeing the Netflix app suddenly come up on the TV, his shoulders relaxing as he settles into the cushions of the sickeningly colored sofa. 

“Of course I have Netflix, what do you think I am, poor?” he grunts.

…and the old Renjun is back.

Arriving at class the next week, you’re finally met with less nervousness than the last few times. After interacting with Huang Renjun more and seeing him break his stone-cold demeanor in front of you as you two watched Netflix– he even made popcorn after the second episode of Unsolved mysteries you decided to watch when you saw the show in his ‘continue watching’ list and gushed about how it’s your favorite (to which he told you that you’re weird, but he’s the one binge watching it too, so you really don’t know why you’re the problem and he's not). Thankfully he doesn’t seem as smug and insufferable as he did before. It’s not like you’re suddenly best friends or anything, but you can feel the ice between you melting with every word he sends your way that isn’t laced with irony– not that there's many of them, since Huang Renjun loves his sarcasm– but it’s progress in your book.

Walking over to your usual seat in the classroom, making your backpack fall to the ground next to your desk with a soft thud, you sit at the chair and take out your things for the class when you notice something standing in the way of your notebook and pencil case in the middle of the table. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you move the cup of coffee out of your way, closer to your seatmate’s side. Sighing, you mumble under your breath. “Don’t you have enough space for your things on your side of the table?”

“That’s yours,” he deadpans. Gaze switching between the cup of iced americano from the coffee shop at the corner of the campus (you know it by the plastic cup with their logo on it– it's too tacky for your liking and you even gushed about it to Jimin the day the café opened) and the blonde boy next to you, confusion doesn’t seem to leave your insides as you let out an unfocused hum, showing him that you’re still not following. 

“Do you not like coffee or something?” he hisses, seemingly annoyed at your expression. If you saw yourself in the mirror, maybe you’d understand his frustration– your brows are furrowed and there's a crease in the middle of your forehead from how hard you're racking your brain to come up with answers– but now, you’re just in utter disbelief. Maybe you are a little slow– it’s only 8 in the morning, to your defense– but you really don’t remember bringing coffee to school today. Especially not an iced americano– you don’t like the bitter taste, opting to choose a sweeter drink like a caramel macchiato or the infamous pink drink that Jimin teased you for the last time you got it. So how did this strange cup of coffee end up on your table?

Looking around the space, noticing another half-empty cup of coffee on Renjun’s side of the table, the label on the plastic the same as the cup that was waiting on your side, you finally connect the dots. “Did you get that for me?”

“Yeah,” he nods, not even looking at you as he agrees, taking another sip of his coffee instead. 

Now, you do finally know where the strange cup of coffee came from. Why did Renjun buy you coffee in the first place, though, is still a mystery to you, but you guess with how he’s avoiding your gaze, eyes glued to the white board and an uninterested expression sitting on his face, you think it’s better to not ask him any other follow-up questions. He did something nice for you, and with how your thoughts and rationalization are the only clues you can use in figuring out the reason behind it, you wonder if this was his way of apologizing for being rude to you and thanking you for hanging out with him last week.

“Thanks,” you mumble out instead, smiling at his humming figure that barely acknowledges your spoken gratitude. Taking a sip of the drink, while trying really, really hard not to scowl at the bitter taste, you shift your focus on the class instead, taking notes from time to time. Drinking the coffee as if it was a disgustingly tasting medicine your mother forced you to take when you were little– you hated the taste, but had to get through it anyway– you eventually finish your iced americano somewhere in the middle of the lecture. You feel kind of proud of your acting skills, but there’s also an annoying voice somewhere in the back of your head asking you why you even forced yourself to get through that drink anyway and why is it that you didn’t want to hurt Renjun’s feelings by refusing it in the first place. 

But like anyone in your position would, you shush that voice out of your head.

“Did you finish watching the whole season last week?” you ask instead, suddenly interested in having a conversation with him. After you told Jimin about how your weird hang-out with Renjun went, she practically scolded you for not going home right after he let out the first snarky comment out of his mouth. And maybe she’s right and the whole thing you’re trying to do– but what are you even trying to do in the first place? – makes you seem like you’re out of your mind, but at the end of the day, you did finally progress in watching the TV show after putting it on hold for multiple months because your dear roommate wouldn’t stop begging you to watch all of the seasons of Too hot to handle with you instead, so it’s a win in your book.

“I didn’t,” he replies, his voice quiet enough only for you to hear, not interrupting the rest of the class, “Hyuck, my roommate, didn’t come home until like 11pm and I got too creeped out to watch it alone after you left,” he completes, his face completely serious as he utters out the laughable words.

Chuckling at his response, you see him crack a smile from the corner of your eye. The sight is a rather pleasant one, for you think you've  forgotten how it looks in what seems like ages since the obvious breakup with his girlfriend happened, the reminder of his squinted eyes and full cheeks making you feel accomplished, in a way. “Didn’t think you were the type to get scared so easily,” you tease him.

“Not scared,” he huffs out, offended, “just creeped out. That’s different.”

“Did you wait for your roommate because you were too scared to go to sleep?” you test the waters with more teasing, your tone light and playful.

“No, I waited for him because the last time he got home late and I was asleep, he came home drunk and broke down the door to his room and we had to get it replaced,” he announces, making you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand as you almost burst out into a loud giggle. 

“You know what? Yeah. Valid.”

Your conversation falls silent after that, and it makes your spirit fall for a split second. You don’t even know why you wanted it to continue– you don’t know your seatmate, and frankly, you shouldn’t have the desire to do so in the first place. But the sudden act of service thrown your way, although the coffee was disgusting and he could’ve presented the gift to you in a different, more welcoming way, made you get your hopes up– about what exactly, though? 

Jimin always told you that desperately wanting to be everyone’s friend (despite being socially awkward and kind of nervous around new people), is one of your best and worst qualities at the same time. Best, because it means that you’re nice to people– worst, because you’re nice even to people that don’t deserve your kindness; and you also get too disappointed when people don’t share the same enthusiasm with you. Maybe some friendships are meant to keep at surface level, and if this was the type of relationship you and your project partner are about to have, you’re going to have to let go of that annoying voice in your head that keeps telling you to get deeper than that level.

“Why did you dye your hair, by the way?” you ask him nonetheless, after a few heartbeats of silence, curiosity getting the best of you. The moment this question leaves your mouth, you regret it– thinking you somehow could’ve made the boy uncomfortable, your words annoying to his ears– but instead of rolling his eyes at you or telling you to shut up, he replies instead. The reaction surprises you– he really conditioned you to think that every question of yours is going to be met with spite and tantrum, didn't he?

“Dunno,” he says, shrugging, “they say blondes have more fun, so I think it’s only natural to go blonde when you’re sad. To cancel it out, or something,” he snickers as he looks at you, realizing the implication of his words makes the whole statement kind of embarrassing, his tight-lipped smile being the proof of his internal battle not to cringe at his explanation.

You understand, humming in acknowledgment. You’re just a simple woman, after all– you very well understand the urge to change your hair after a breakup. While it is a visible proof of his mental breakdown, you guess you can’t really blame him for trying to feel like there are things that are under his control; even if it’s just the color of his hair.

Walking along Renjun, the atmosphere is thick and a little awkward. Your bag is heavy on your back and you’re slowly starting to feel a bit of an ugly sting in your bones from it; you mourn the fact that you decided to ask Renjun to walk there with you instead of having to take the bus by yourself, too afraid of getting the address wrong and getting lost along the way. You’d love any kind of transport instead of your own two legs right now, since the walk seems to be never ending and you’re pretty certain that the backs of your feet have calluses from wearing your new shoes that you got from a clearance sale from the Nike store at the corner of the town. 

Clearing your throat, you decide to spark up a conversation. It seems like you always have to be the one to initiate things when it comes to Renjun– it’s kind of ironic, though, when you think of the fact that he was the one that made you be his project partner in the first place.“Why did you wanna do the article about the shelter? I didn’t know you were an animal person,” you hum, testing the waters with a casual question. 

Looking up at you, furrowing his brows, the man offers you an indifferent shrug. “My friend Taeyong works there and he wanted to advertise the shelter a little, so I offered to take pictures for his Facebook page in exchange for me writing the article about it,” he mumbles, “he thinks that would give the shelter more exposure too, but I doubt it. Nobody’s gonna read our fake magazine anyway, it’s just an assignment…”

Humming, you kick the rocks on the pavement, a tight-lipped smile appearing on your face. Huang Renjun must do a lot for his friends, you think. You remember him taking pictures for his friend Xiaoting once– she’s an influencer (a model, if you want) and well known around the campus. When you saw his instagram username in one of the picture descriptions one day, you were surprised at the quality of those shoots (and it also led you to stalking his instagram for a bit, but that’s not the main point of this conversation). You also remember seeing him with his friends Shotaro and Yangyang in a team when it was your school’s annual Sports day (you’d argue that you’re not high schoolers anymore and this day is useless, but your classmates seem to think otherwise) trying his best, despite not really liking sports in the first place– or so you heard and seen from how badly he did in most disciplines except from running– and if that’s not a sign of him doing everything he could just to make his friends happy, you don’t know what is. So to see him doing an article about the animal shelter Taeyong works at, despite being more of a plant person himself, you’re not as surprised as you thought you’d be. He does show affection to his friends, after all– you’re just not one of them to see that side of him often.

Walking some more, you eventually end up in front of a big building painted a light tangerine color, windows decorated with pretty curtains on full display to you. Renjun chimes in like a regular, crossing multiple halls and taking sharp turns before you’re met with the image of a taller man with dark brown hair putting small, pastel colored collars on necks of a few little creatures running around the room, despair clearly written on his face.

“No! Don’t run away, oh god-”

Chuckling at the view of yet another kitten running away from his hands, you admire the fluffy little cats crawling all around the place, your heart quickly softening at the sight of them. It’s been a while since you were around animals yourself– the dog you had back home died the summer before the semester started and you weren’t really in the mood to get a new one, since you weren’t going to be around much anyway. 

When yet another kitten escapes the man’s hold, you find yourself watching Renjun as he crouches to the floor and swiftly takes one into his hands, walking closer to the man with collars in his hands, grinning to himself. “Here you go.”

“Man, the cats hate me… where did you two get here?” he shakes his head in disbelief, putting a collar onto the small cat before he pets it on its tiny head.

“Just a minute ago,” Renjun says, “is that one Poppy?” he asks, reading the name tag dangling from the little band around its head, affection filling his words.

“Now it is. I got confused when they all started running around,” he shrugs, sighing as he looks around the room, counting the last few kittens that needed their collars. His eyes soon land on you, a welcoming smile spreading on his boxy lips. “Hey! I’m Taeyong. You must be Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, trying to make yourself seem as nice as possible. You don’t know what Renjun told him about you, but if they were bad things, you only hope to undeceive the man with your warm attitude. 

Renjun then puts the kitten down, and while you’d expect it to run away from him and join its siblings in the corner of the room, the creature does quite the opposite– it stays by his side and lays on the ground close to him, making even Taeyong himself gasp at the image. “Wow,” he snickers, “you should start coming here every time I need to put these on them, you’re like a cat whisperer.”

While the two of them chat, you stay a little behind, not really wanting to intrude. You take off the heavy bag and take out your camera, deciding to take a few pictures of the shelter instead, so you can say you worked on the interview with him. You think it’s expected of you, since he asked you to come along despite being absolutely fully capable of doing the interview with his friend alone, so you do your work and zoom in on the two of them talking, snapping a few quick pictures. 

After a while, you take a seat on the ground– being the infamous enjoyer of sitting on the hard surface of it, earning yourself a lot of scolding screams from your mother growing up– and fully take in the interior. The walls are the same light tangerine color as the outside ones, and there’s a little enclosure in the corner of the room that would surely make Taeyong’s job much easier if only he had used it. There are bags of cat food in the other corner of the room, and while the shelter doesn’t look very modern or fancy, you think it’s kinda homey and welcoming. You bet kids would love it here– with the colorful atmosphere and the smiley worker running around catching kittens, and after a while of taking pictures of everything your eyes land on, you find your inner child healing, little by little.

The truth is, you always wanted a cat. But you were never able to get one, because your mother hates them. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you petted strays on the street and begged her to take them home, you never won this battle– so you had to settle on a dog. And don’t get me wrong, you loved your dog, but at the end of the day, you knew you were more of a cat person anyway.

Reaching forward a little, noticing the kitten waddling your way, you think of petting it– it quickly jumps out of your reach, though, too scared of your touch, and you’re left frowning, the bubble bursts at the rejection from the small ball of fluffiness.

“Taeyong?” you hear a voice of a woman call from the door, the man swiftly turning to her with brows raised in question. “They need your help with the big dogs. They keep dragging Yeri on the leash and she’s too weak to get them to their cages.”

“Oh,” the man deadpans, scratching his neck for a bit before he turns to Renjun again, escaping the room in one swift motion, “I’ll be right back!”

The room falls silent after that, no longer having the background noise of their conversation playing as you observe the animals. You feel the atmosphere growing thicker again, and as time passes by, you find yourself taking short glances at your project partner, wondering what’s on his mind. One moment, he’s crouching down and petting the cats that come his way, the other, he is gazing out of the window with a soft frown that takes over his features like a dark shadow, and you wonder when this expression really settled into his face and made itself the default, and why is it not willing to leave. Not really knowing what to say or what to do to make the boy that’s still so out of your reach feel any better, you opt for silence, even though it does get quite heavy and thick over time– and the truth is, you don’t even know why you notice yourself feeling this way so often around him, when all he’s done was give you the cold shoulder so often and then offer you an iced americano you don’t even like in the first place.

Minutes pass and the silence slowly makes your ears ring; you desperately try to find a good solution in your brain– create a script where hanging out with Renjun is easier and less nerve-wrecking– but still, there’s nothing and you’re left with the awkwardness and hesitance. Sighing when another kitten escapes your grasp, you put your hands into your lap and give up on the task, settling on just watching them instead– there was no use in you trying to pet one when all it wanted to do was run away from you.

Watching the group of fluff jumping at each other and sleeping all around the room, your focus only shifts when there’s a kitten suddenly thrusted into your point of view, its big blue eyes staring you down making you awe. You wonder how it got there in a moment of full stupidity before you look up and see your project partner, the cat magnet himself, holding the cat up to you, waiting for you to take it into your hold and pet it. Gazing at him with mouth agape in confusion, he slowly puts the cat into your lap, petting the creature when it settles, and takes a seat opposite of you all in the span of a few seconds, the action making you smile uncontrollably.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” he mumbles, watching as you pet the kitten in your lap, cooing at the soft fur. There’s a hint of you that desperately wants to adopt it once you finally pet the small cat, but you know that it wouldn’t be a smart idea– animals are banned at dorms and you don’t think you’d have enough energy to take care of another living creature right now anyways.

“They are,” you hum, “I always wanted one.”

“Why didn’t you get one, then?”

“My mum doesn’t like them very much,” you mumble, pouting at the small creature in your hold, as if to apologize for the words coming out of your mouth.

He hums in acknowledgement, picking up another kitten that waddles his way, putting it up on his thigh– his body now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Watching as the animal crawls up his body and tickles him with its claws, soft laughter erupts out of him, making you smile unconsciously at the boy. 

“I’m not really into animals that much,” he says, further proving your earlier claims. See– in some ways, Renjun is easy to read. Just by looking at him, you could tell he’s not a fan of sweet beverages; you can tell he enjoys black coffee– just like the one he brought you that day– and herbal teas, perfectly matching the image of him in your head that’s surrounded by plants rather than animals, just the bit of greenery you saw around the kitchen very clearly still alive and thriving making you believe you are correct in this assumption as well. One can say a lot about a person by the way they dress, and with Renjun’s casual, yet cozy attire, you can tell he dresses for himself, choosing comfort over style, but still looking effortlessly put together at the same time. You would never strike him as someone that makes spontaneous decisions, rather being more focused on a plan, so to see him dye his hair so randomly is a sign of the fact that there’s something crumbling inside of him– a sense of security, maybe a feeling of stableness– that he tries so hard to grasp. 

“They are into you, though,” you giggle when the kitten purrs at his touch, pointing at the cross-eyed creature. 

“What can I say,” he shrugs, “I guess I’m that irresistible.”

There aren’t many opportunities for you to laugh at his jokes. Mainly because he doesn’t make many, but also because you always notice them being self-deprecating, and you don’t want to support that idea in his head. At this one, though, you send him a soft chuckle and a roll your eyes, showing how you seemingly think the idea is ridiculous and his joke is corny, but deep inside knowing that you resonate with his words.

In a moment of selfishness– an indulgence you try to mask by the fact that you came here because of the assignment and this was your job in the first place– you take your camera and snap a picture of the boy in front of you, his hands holding the small kitten up in air and snickering when he sees you pointing the lens to him in order to capture him playing with the creature. You don’t know what it is that makes your heart warm up at the image that comes up on the screen shortly after, but you figure that’s a problem of future you and there’s no use in pondering about it now.

You don’t know how many minutes pass with just the two of you playing with the kittens, but when Renjun takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time, you furrow your brows before he hums. “He’s taking so much time,” he says, sighing. 

All while playing with the fuzzy small balls, you didn’t even notice the time passing by so quickly. You don’t know how much time it’s been, but you assume it could be more than 35 minutes of the two of you left alone in the room, Taeyong seemingly too overwhelmed with the shelter responsibilities.

“Maybe we should go,” he offers, catching you off guard.

“Oh,” you hum, “well, maybe. But you haven’t even done an interview with him yet,” you mumble, your hands lost in the soft fur of the kitten still laying in your lap.

“I can just send him the questions to his email. Perhaps, I’m sure you’ve taken more than enough pictures of the kittens for his Facebook page,” he snickers, shrugging, “I don’t see why we should be staying here if he’s busy, we’re only putting more work on him.”

“I- I mean…” you mumble, trailing off at the end. You don’t really wanna say goodbye to the kittens, the healing in your heart not quite done yet, when the boy next to you laughs at what you presume is your emotions showing clearly on your face.

“Unless you wanna play with them more, of course. We can stay a little longer, then.”

The autumn season slowly fades into winter, time passing by quicker than you could even grasp. The shock and surprise of having to work on the lengthy project with Renjun morphs into a feeling of ordinarity, getting used to his mood slowly shifting from reserved and irritated to a one more pleasant, full of hesitant smiles and soft words when he notices you feeling down or disappointed with yourself, and a one more close to a brother-like teasing when he watches you arrive to his apartment to work on things. One would say you hit it off, your energies matching as you slowly get to know the boy, but still, there’s a hint of something inside of you that makes you grow nervous around him whenever he is too close to your figure, your body falling limp and your brain working on overdrive. You wonder if it’s the sheer fact of simply not being fully used to his presence; while Jimin says you’re down bad for the man. She’s wrong– or at least you’re convinced that she is– and that’s why you simply think the uncertain feeling of uneasiness that settles in your bones sometimes is the effect of the fact that you never truly know what to expect when you arrive at Renjun’s place.

Some days, when you arrive, there’s a mess waiting for you in the living room, where you usually work on the project with Renjun. There are pots and pans with dried food everywhere and your partner’s hands are foaming with washing liquid when he opens the door for you, and you giggle at the sight. Other days, the apartment is full of people you don’t know and Renjun has to throw them out with a scream saying that the group was supposed to leave two hours ago, and when you come on weekends, he lets you in wearing sweatpants and bed hair, as if he spent the whole day in his sheets. Dare you say, this is your favorite version of him– his eyes are half-lidded and he moves slowly, even his remarks aren’t as harsh as they tend to get. Jimin once argued and told you that you two don’t even need to meet that often for the sake of the project– and on a weekend as well– but you’d say it adds to the value of the magazine if you two can get opinions out of each other and review each other’s writing in real time. 

Some days, his roommate is home, and that’s when you join Renjun in his room so you two get a bit of privacy (not that you’re doing anything that requires privacy. His roommate Donghyuck is just very nosy and he keeps asking you questions you don’t have the time and energy to answer). 

Today is one of these days, with his energetic roommate roaming the halls of the apartment, but this time, you two don’t hide away in the comfort of Renjun’s small, yet very organized room. Sitting in the living room of his and Hyuck’s shared apartment, your bottom meeting the carpeted floor instead of the cushions of their couch, your laptop screen darkening when you don’t work on the device for some time and it puts itself to sleep mode. The reason for said action is your attention being somewhere completely else– on Donghyuck’s figure trailing in and out of the room, each time wearing a different outfit than before.

“What about this one, Y/N? Do I look good?” he asks, posing like a model that didn’t pass an audition in any modeling agency, their dream of flashing a smile on the title pages of Vogue fading out of their sight.

You burst out laughing at the weird combination. You don’t remember Donghyuck ever being bad at fashion from the few times you've met him before he left their apartment to attend a party or go to class– you’re quite certain that his habit to always tuck in his shirts into his skinny jeans, the stylistic choice showcasing his long legs making not one, but many girls, boys and others salivate over him. But when seeing him in a tragic combination of cowboy boots and a cow-print shirt, you can’t help but giggle.

“Hyuck, now you’re just taking the shit. That’s your Halloween costume from last year,” the boy next to you on the ground whines, running his hands through his hair in despair.

“Okay, but what if I really want to wear it?” he asks all innocent, his roommate now faking a cry in response, “besides, I was asking Y/N, so you shut your mouth.”

“I think it’s great,” you nod, wiping the corner of your eyes from the stray tears that fall off from the laughter you’ve been doing at the interaction. Your assignment was long forgotten the first moment Donghyuck decided to pay you a visit in the living room, starting with shitting on his professor for making him study on a weekend (which you argued that he could’ve started with earlier in the week, to which he glared at you and asked if he looks like a nerd), and then proceeding to do everything but study– starting with making a smoothie in the living room– while efficiently making so much noise with the mixer every time Renjun spoke up, annoying the short male– to giving you a make-shift fashion show.

“Do you want me to embarrass myself? See, I wore this to test if you were being genuine, but I see now that you’re on Renjun’s side,” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief and escaping the living room, making you burst out laughing even more as you hear the door to his room shut with a loud thud.

He’ll come back soon– you’re sure of it.

And you’re right. After Renjun manages to let out a loud noise of despair at the fact that he has to live with someone like Lee Donghyuck– not only now, he complains about it every other day, when the latter drags him to parties only for him to be the designated driver for the night and get him home safely, or how he makes him pay for dinner he orders for the both of them without asking– the other man joins you in the living room again, now dressed casually in sweatpants and a loose shirt.

“Okay, the fashion show’s over. I think I’ll go with the first outfit, just by the way, because it matches my eyes,” he says, quite seriously, to which Renjun only sighs.

“Hyuck, your eyes are brown.”

“Okay and?”

“That what you wore was– you know what, never mind…” Renjun shakes his head as he stops himself mid-sentence, making you snicker at the mental image of the outfit Donghyuck’s talking about, because frankly, Renjun is right with his frustration. The shirt his roommate wore was blue, and while it didn’t clash in the slightest, it surely didn’t match the brown depth of Donghyuck’s orbs, and that’s what makes the whole thing that much funnier.

Turning your head around to watch Renjun’s roommate moving through the kitchen area, opening up the fridge and pouring himself a glass of milk– you don’t even dare to question him anymore– you ask. “What is the occasion anyway?”

“Jisung’s birthday party,” he mumbles, taking a sip, “you know Park Jisung, right?”

“Never heard of him,” you shake your head, seeing as the man widens his eyes at you with surprise.

“No? Well, you’re gonna get to know him soon, then,” he says, shrugging.

“That sounds like a threat,” you giggle, “what do you even mean?”

To that, Donghyuck shifts his eyes to his roommate sitting next to you on the ground, shrugging. “Well, I assumed you were invited…” he says, grinning to himself.

The man next to you audibly sighs– what is the reason behind his frustration this time, you truly do not know, but with Renjun, there’s always something getting on his nerves. He has a problem with having his anger in control sometimes.

Furrowing your eyebrows at the proposition, you shake your head. “Why would I be invited to Park Jisung’s birthday party?”

“Because it’s quite the event! Park Jisung’s turning into an adult, and to that, he’s throwing a big party, which means friends of friends of friends are invited,” he says, as if it was the most matter-of-fact information you’ve ever heard, “and since you’re a friend of a friend, I’d assume you get a pass.”

Shrugging, you mutter. “Well, I wasn’t invited,” you add, not paying the whole party much thought. 

The man squints his eyes at the two of you, eyes drifting from one figure to the other, humming to himself as if he was lost in thought. “Okay, then…” he mysteriously mumbles under his breath before downing the glass and putting it into the sink, completing his visit by exiting the living room.

“Would you come back and wash your dishes after yourself?” Renjun yells into the depths of the apartment, a sneaky remark being thrown his way almost immediately.

“No, thank you!”

And after watching the interaction, you come to the conclusion that if you were living with Lee Donghyuck, you'd turn kind of crazy too. You can’t even blame Renjun anymore. Truth be told, though, you didn’t get much work done that Saturday, and you think his sheer presence might be the reason why.

“What do you think?” you ask, turning your laptop towards Renjun, the two of you currently sitting in the library, working on your project. Originally, you had planned to go to your place– but Jimin texted you last second that she has a guy over, and Renjun said his roommate has a gathering of some sort at his apartment, so you settled on the comfort and silence your university library provides. Not a lot of people are here during this time of the year; the exam season isn’t that close yet and no one’s panicking about last-minute studying, so only a few responsible students are currently scattered across the spacious room on the second floor, working on their essays. You bet they’re humanities students– they always have the most shit to do when it comes to essays. You study Journalism, but your roommate is a Sociology major, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone write as many essays as Jimin in a single semester.

What you’re showing Renjun is an opened Microsoft Publisher document, your shared magazine shining from the blue light of the screen. Renjun sent you his copy of the pages he’s done with the animal shelter interview, and as you were looking at the columns of text and off-centered pictures, the perfectionist in you woke up and forced you to fix the tiny mistakes that didn’t escape your eye.

“It’s different,” he hums, eyebrows furrowing as he examines the two-page spread, resting his head on his hand, plopped up on his elbow, and pushing his rimmed glasses further up his nose bridge. “Did you change anything?”

“I just… played around with it a little,” you mumble, afraid of what he thinks. As far as you know, he could flip out any second and scream at you for doing his work when it was perfectly fine the way he sent it to you– at least the Huang Renjun you met a few weeks ago would certainly do that– and so you don’t think it’s that unexpected of you to be so nervous about his opinion.

“This picture wasn’t here before,” he says, pointing to one of the pictures you neatly slotted into the corner of the page– it was one of your favorites, you must admit with severe embarrassment– with Renjun holding up a baby kitten, looking at it with softened eyes. When you looked at the page spread he sent you the other day, you couldn’t believe he didn’t add that picture. Something about it being your favorite– finding yourself admiring it when you look through the pictures on your camera’s SD card– was enough to make you think it’s surely his favorite as well. It didn’t matter that it didn’t really fit the professional aura the whole spread radiates. For you, the magazine wasn’t complete without including it– think of that what you will.

“It was asymmetrical without it, so I had to add it…” you say, scratching the back of your neck. That’s a partial lie– you could make it work if you moved the pictures around a little bit, but Renjun doesn’t have to know that.

He hums, eyes scanning over the text, shrugging. “It’s nice. As long as you didn’t change the text part, I don’t mind,” he says, relief making your shoulders slouch down, not even noticing how tense you’ve become, “I actually got bored while working on this, so I get that it didn’t really look nice before. Thanks,” he completes, offering you a soft smile as he takes a sip of the black americano sitting on the desk.

“Good,” you nod, shaking off the nervousness from before, “okay.”

Scrolling through the document, moving a few things around, adding better punctuation here and there, the number of pages is still not hitting the criteria for your final grade. That’s okay– you still have a lot of time to complete the magazine and you still have plenty of ideas. To execute them is another thing, but you’re sure you’ll find a way.

“What about your interview?” Renjun suddenly asks, almost making you jump up from the surprise that is created by his voice suddenly cutting through the silence of the library.

“What about it?” you hum, looking at him. His hair is a little tousled– he’s been putting in way less work than you today, laying on the table occasionally when you don’t show him anything on your laptop for a while, acting more as your company than a help. It looks like the coffee on his table is the only thing keeping him awake, and you suddenly feel a little bad for insisting on working on the project even though your initial plans of doing it at your place fell through, because he seems to be exhausted.

“Well, I did the shelter, so you should do something too,” he says, shrugging, “or do something similar, you know… I think it would be nice to have you write about something from a reporter's perspective.”

“Oh,” you nod, “well, I dunno… I had a few ideas, but it’s…”

“Hm?” he motions for you to talk when your voice drifts out, eyes looking at you with patience and genuine interest. The change of demeanor that’s been happening with him lately slightly shocks you, but you welcome the new character in him with open arms. Still, it doesn’t mean you don’t get a little hesitant around him whenever he shows you this side of him– you don’t really know how to react, or what to expect of him anymore. It’s like walking on eggshells, but you can’t say you hate the strange anticipation.

“Well, it’s stupid, but…” you start, seeing him roll his eyes at the beginning of your proposition, “my favorite writer is doing some sort of a fan sign slash q&a thing in the local library next week. She’s coming out with a new book, and I think it would be nice to get an interview with her, but she’s probably very busy and everything, so that won’t work out.”

Looking at Renjun, feeling shy of the sudden revelation of hopes and dreams, you chew on your bottom lip in anticipation. The range of answers he could give you is truly big– he could laugh at you, tell you to go alone, or he could tell you that it’s a stupid idea, a boring one, even, or he could be supportive– the least likely response, you think. Sharing your idea with him makes you a little hesitant again, feeling a little naked in front of him, and you even avert your gaze towards your laptop and aimlessly scroll through the document to avoid his gaze, to seem more nonchalant and not at all bothered by his lack of words, when he gives you a tired hum.

“Well, you could at least do an article about the library, then. To advertise sustainability, and all… And kids these days don’t read much, so I think it’s nice to talk about it,” he says, once again folding over the table and burrowing his face in the space between his folded arms and his chest, half sitting, half laying down on the furniture, “wanna go next week? Maybe we can catch that writer of yours.”

Allowing yourself to look at him, relief once again washing over you at the acceptance, you can’t help but smile at his slurred words of affirmation. “I mean, I’m down…”

Doubting you could get the interview– not even trying to reach out to the writer, already setting yourself up for the expected failure– you make plans to visit the library the said day with Renjun anyway. You’ll get your camera and maybe get some nice shots, maybe ask around for an interview from one of the nice, old librarians instead. It’s not a bad idea, and it fits the vibe of your magazine quite nicely.

Who knows, maybe you could even get your book signed. Doesn’t hurt to try.

You think it was safe to say that you didn’t expect to see a text message pop up on the screen of your phone one afternoon, the black letters shining darkly on the bright screen with a hesitant, yet a little hurried invitation to Park Jisung’s birthday party. The whole interaction you had about it with Renjun and Hyuck was awkward, and so to see getting an invitation for yourself the day of the said event was a shocking concept, leaving you scrambling your things from various places of your apartment and putting them into a handbag before getting dressed for the occasion. 

Quickly learning that Lee Donghyuck is a man of his word– meaning that he never lies, especially when it comes to big parties– your mouth hangs open when you arrive to the address Renjun texted you in the afternoon, the big mension-like building full of people you’ve never seen before, leaving you to acknowledge that friends of friends of friends must have been invited to fill up the whole place, since it’s not possible for poor Park Jisung to know everyone at his birthday party. The fact makes you feel less special; the invitation not really making you feel like you were wanted there, the place breaking in its seams making you internalize a thought that you were there just to fill up the blank spaces and Renjun invited you only for the sheer fact of needing a lot of people for his friend’s party. A little disappointed, yet, still kind of amazed at the size of it all, you walk out of Jimin’s car– she offered to drive you there– and hesitantly set your foot to the  grass that divides the land from the sidewalk. 

Feeling a little lost, turning your head in various directions to try to find anyone you’d know– Huang Renjun being the best alternative, since he was the one who invited you, after all– you start to feel a little out of place when no one pays you any attention and the loud music filling your ears only acts as a distraction that slowly makes you oversaturated with stimulus. Just when you go to take your phone out of your bag to call either Renjun or your roommate to come back to pick you up and drive you to the safety of your apartment, a hand lands on your shoulder and makes you turn around in your tracks, a strange sense of comfort enveloping your insides when you see the short blonde peeking at you from under his carelessly styled bangs, a grin sitting on his face. “You’re here!”

“Yeah. I told you I’d come…?” you mumble, observing Renjun’s sudden enthusiasm at your arrival, letting the man drag you inside of the building. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel all the eyes of the guests on you. While you were a stranger to all of them, you are almost certain the popular Huang Renjun was one of the more known people of the bunch, catching attention of multiple friends of his and also friends of their friends, and suddenly, the feeling of his touch on your wrist as he drags you inside makes your skin burn, your brain almost overheating when you realize this might as well be the first time you’ve had any sort of physical contact with the male. Fixing your gaze on his back, enveloped in an oversized leather jacket, you start to wonder if he’s drunk.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, finally turning back to you when you arrive in the spacious kitchen. You wonder if this house is rented, or if Park Jisung’s one of the wealthy kids in the town. You truly have no knowledge on the man, and when you hesitantly look around the room, trying to sort out what alcohol they have in store– while mentally thinking of what would make you the least hammered, considering your low alcohol tolerance– you feel Renjun’s eyes glued to you, heat inevitably rising to your cheeks. “What’s that in your hand?” he asks, making you jump out of your haze.

“Oh,” you stutter, “I brought a birthday gift for Jisung,” you mumble, seeing Renjun’s glossy eyes blink at you a few times, his lips suddenly twitching up in amusement. In this moment, you think he truly must be drunk, his fingers reaching towards the gift bag in your left hand as he peeks inside, noticing the handwritten card and a box of chocolates you brought to the boy you’ve never seen before. Your project partner cracks up as he puts the bag away to the corner of the room.

“You’re too sweet for this world,” Renjun giggles as he looks back at you, making you widen your eyes in surprise at the affectionate words falling off his tongue.

“Why?”

“Nobody actually expected you to bring a gift, you know,” he says as he walks through the half-empty kitchen, eyes roaming over the solo cups filled with alcohol, “you don’t even know him. Half the people here don’t know him and I’m pretty sure half of his actual friend group didn’t give him anything.”

“Oh,” you blink, suddenly feeling stupid. “Well, I didn’t want to seem rude…” you sheepishly mumble, scratching the back of your neck in hesitance. Maybe you did go a little overboard– nobody can really blame you, though. You’re not a big party goer, and since it’s someone’s birthday, you only assumed it’s socially expected of you to bring a gift. And it’s Renjun’s friend, on top of that– one would say you wanted to give off a good impression, as his plus-one to the party, whatever that means. If you were considered that, to be exact– with the amount of people here, though, you were starting to feel a little lost in the situation.

“See, you’re too sweet,” he says, shrugging,  eyes still fixated on the kitchen counter as he seemingly searches for a specific drink. Arm motioning towards one of the red solo cups, he suddenly turns to you and offers you the contents, smiling. “He loves chocolate, though, so that gift’s gonna be his favorite. Well, if it even gets to him in this whole mess… rum and coke?” he asks, and without much thought, you eagerly take the cup from his hand, nodding.

“Thanks,” you say, tasting the alcohol on your tongue. You don’t tell him that rum and coke is your biggest enemy– not because it tastes bad, quite the opposite, actually. You enjoy the mixture too much for you to control yourself sometimes. You can only pray that you don’t get too loose tonight.

The man’s eyes stay strangely glued to your figure as you sip from the cup, and you almost open your mouth to tease him about it– or ask if there’s something on your face, either or– when there’s a chant coming out of one of the rooms outside, incoherent screams slowly forming into one recognisable word– a name, to be exact– the voices calling Park Jisung, tonight’s birthday boy. Renjun’s eyes widen at that, his body moving fast as he tugs you by your hand again, almost spilling your drink in the process, your figure suddenly standing in a living room seemingly bigger than your whole apartment, the sight in front of you making you laugh.

A tall, lanky boy is thrown up in the air by the arms of multiple men– one of which you recognise to be Hyuck– as the whole room chants Jisung's name, the sight  a little comedic in your eyes. Rose tint settles on Park Jisung's face as the whistling only gets louder, a few phones with the flash turned on pointed to his face, the moment captured in time. You wonder what the boy did in his life to get this amount of popularity, but you can only imagine that, as one would say, this could very well be a core memory for him. You only turn adult once in your life, and for some reason, the thought of Park Jisung doing so surrounded by his friends that threw him perhaps the biggest birthday party in the history of your university campus, you get a little emotional for him. Maybe Renjun was right with you being too sweet for this world– in this moment, though, you think you’re too soft instead.

After a while, the men get tired of holding up his weight and the boy slowly comes down from the high, the hollering getting more quiet as it turns into the birthday song, making you join in with the singing. The thought of being an outcast, just a random person in the crowd slowly seeps away when you feel included in the moment, worry leaving you as you watch Donghyuck– the biggest hype man of his friends, or so it seems– shake the birthday boy vigorously by his shoulders before he lets go and plants a sloppy kiss to his cheek, which leads to the two of them chasing each other around the crowded place.

Watching the whole scene unfold right in front of your eyes, you find yourself gazing at Renjun from the corner of your eye, the bright grin on his face making your heart squeeze in a weird way. He seems so happy in this moment, dragging you from room to room excitedly as if he was a regular in this place, the joy of celebrating his friend making his flushed face glow in a healthy way. You got used to seeing his face clouded in a shadow; the worried crease in between his eyebrows and the darkness under his eyes regular visitors in his expression, so to see him seep in the ugly orange lights of the luxurious house tugs at your heartstrings in a way you choose to not recognize or name. 

“Y/N!” you hear your name screamed from somewhere in the room, making you tear your eyes away from the man standing by your side. Looking at the source of the yell, you find Lee Donghyuck striding towards you with his long legs, the action almost threatening, yet, his face beams in an excited aura.

“Hyuck!”

“You came!” he yells back in the same energy as last time, although his body is now only a few steps away from you, making you giggle. You recognise his outfit to be one of the multiple he showed you back at their apartment before he started acting all silly, the memory making you laugh in fondness.

“I did!” you nod, “I got invited,” you say, voice almost sounding proud of the achievement. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says as his eyes drift from you to Renjun, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively before he earns himself a punch to the shoulder from his roommate, a sharp, over-exaggerated scowl escaping his lips at the motion. “Come meet Jisung!” he quickly switches up the topic, dragging you along with himself like a rag doll in an instance. He must be drunk; you think. 

You wonder why you keep being dragged around the house– maybe it’s a sign that you’re too weak and should probably start working out more so you can stand your ground. Nonetheless, you follow the man as you look around, as if to apologize to Renjun for leaving him, when you see the blonde following you to the small group in the corner of the living room, recognising them to be the ones holding up Jisung just a few minutes prior. 

“Jisung! This is Y/N!” Donghyuck utters out as soon as you get to the small gathering, all eyes suddenly glued to you. You wouldn’t say it made you feel comfortable or even invited– quite the opposite, to be honest– but the man that was addressed cutely turns to you, a shy smile plastered on his face when he greets you.

“Ah! Hello!”

You doubt Park Jisung even knows who you are. You doubt any of these people do– with how they’re looking at you in examination, but you still bite through it as you force a smile on your face. “Happy birthday,” you say to him, earning yourself a bright smile from the recipient.

“Thanks!” he beams. “You’re Renjun hyung’s friend, right?” he asks  in response, almost making you choke on your spit in surprise at the fact that the boy knows who you are, which leads you to believe that you were talked about in this circle before.

“Sort of,” you nod, forcing out a giggle.

“Sort of?” the annoyed voice of Huang Renjun himself fills your ears from your right, making you jump up at the proximity of him that you weren’t aware of before, the mock offense on his face making you giggle when you think of the remorse he treated you with when you first met. He looked like he never wanted to speak to you in his life, and now he’s acting offended at you not fully calling him your friend? Yes, you did that to spite him– because if you weren’t friends, you truly don’t know what you were even doing here in the first place– but you still think the whole thing is a little ironic. “You’re at our house at least once a week and we’re not friends in your eyes?” 

“Well, that’s only because I have to,” you argue, when the man only shakes his head at you in disbelief.

“Okay, you’re not allowed to eat our snacks when you come over anymore,” he says, shrugging in nonchalance. Laughing, you find yourself looking over the group you’re standing with, the discomfort slowly fading away when you engage in conversation with Renjun. You catch a few names you can’t really place to their respective faces– mainly because Jisung was the only one formally introduced to you– when you notice a girl staring at you in examination, her figure not noticed by you before. 

The longer you stare at her, the longer you start to recognise her, and before you let panic overtake you– in all honesty, you don’t even know why you’d panic at this fact– you realize it’s none other than Huh Yunjin, your friend’s ‘cheating ex-girlfriend’ looking at you with something resembling spite in her eyes, her jaw clenched and her look glazing from your outfit to your face, as if mentally scoring you on your attractiveness, judging every detail of your body, all while a tall boy hugs her to his side– whom you presume is her new boyfriend.

He looks nothing like Renjun– he is quite the opposite, if you really think about it– and even though you tear your eyes away from her figure, your brain still screams at you with arguments that you look nothing like her; even though it shouldn’t really matter. You’re not Huang Renjun’s new girlfriend– not even the object of his desire, or the new girl by his side– you’re just his project partner, a classmate he’s grown to calling a friend, but still, you can’t help but notice her radiating beauty, the outshining features on her face and the charismatic aura she radiates– the polar opposite to everything you’d describe yourself as; and the comfort you felt while talking with Renjun’s friends is suddenly swept under the carpet, long forgotten when you still feel her eyes burning through your skull, her gaze making you like an intruder, someone who’s not supposed to be here, someone who doesn’t belong. 

And to make things even worse, you suddenly feel Renjun’s hand around your waist, and when your eyes lock with his you swear you see a hint of understatement in them, something that lets you know that he’s aware of his ex girlfriend’s burning stare; his protective side kicking in, yet still making you question the matter even more.

You bet he did it to soothe you. You can even clearly read his intentions in the warm smile he sends you when he squeezes your side, hugging you closer to himself, but the more you’re aware of his burning palm on your flesh, the more uncertain you become, the less engaged in the conversation you get, and the more uncomfortable you feel under the orange lights of the living room.

“Wanna go outside? I’m pretty sure they have a karaoke machine there, if you wanna play,” you feel Renjun whisper into your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, the hint of vodka in it supporting your earlier claims and that he was at least a little tipsy after all. 

Nonetheless, you nod and find him leading you outside, not before you turn around to look at Yunjin for one last time, though, seeing clear jealousy shading her expression; making you wonder if you were invited just because she was too, and if you just fulfilled your designated role for the night.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, looking at your companion as the two of you sit on the stairs outside of the university building, your bags carelessly placed at your feet. It’s getting quite dark out, the winter days still being insanely short even though it’s the middle of February and spring is slowly approaching the town. The two of you had worked on your assignment in the library before Renjun told you that he has to wait for his friends Jeno and Donghyuck to pick him up, since they are meeting up with their friends from high school, their friend group living out of town requiring the two of them to take a drive there.

“Of course not,” Renjun shakes his head, “I offered to drop you off, so why would I mind?” 

“What about your friends–”

“If they have anything against it, I’ll make sure to choke them, so don’t worry about that,” Renjun softly laughs at his own joke, trying to ease you. Still, there’s something inside of you that makes the atmosphere heavy and thick, having you crack your knuckles as you sit in silence, chewing on your bottom lip from nerves.

“What’s up? You’ve been acting weird lately,” Renjun hums, looking at you from his place on your left. 

You tried hard to mask your hesitance, especially because you think the worries inside of you are stupid, but you can’t help but feel a hint of discomfort whenever you think of Jisung’s birthday party. Sure, you had a great time– his friends were nice to you, Hyuck even dramatically sang a song at the karaoke with you when Renjun got tired, the two of you taking shots together when you were done. You danced with Renjun after, the music keeping you close, and when you got tired, he walked you home. Everything felt normal between you– except from the weird closeness and occasional touches he sent your way– but you presume that was the effect of alcohol, so you didn’t ponder on it that much.

The eyes of his ex girlfriend on you the whole evening is what made you feel a bit itsy about the situation, and even though there was no hint that would further prove your previous claims, you can’t help but think about Huh Yunjin from time to time, and that’s what makes you feel at least a bit awkward about the whole thing.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you say, trying to play it off.

“Come on,” Renjun sighs, “tell me. Is it something I did?”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes at his insisting. The shift in dynamic is ironical, to say the least– 4 months ago, he wouldn’t care about what was making you feel so down, he wouldn’t even care about you walking home from university alone in the darkness of the evening hours, but now, the crease between his brows almost makes him look worried about you, and you can’t say you hate it– even though in this moment, you’d rather have him not care at all.

“Okay, so I’ll just play a guessing game, then,” he scoffs, humming, lost in thought. “You’ve been weird since the party. Something happened there?” 

“No,” you disagree, tone of voice almost sounding desperate and harrowing, not really wanting him to keep asking about the reasoning behind your mood.

“Okay, so that’s a yes. Did someone make you feel uncomfortable? Do I need to beat somebody up? Oh god, was it Hyuck? That fucker said something to you, right? I’m gonna lock him out of the apartment, I swear to god–”

“It wasn’t Hyuck,” you giggle at his outrage, deciding to save his roommate’s life.

“It wasn’t?” he asks, seemingly genuinely surprised, expecting his devilish roommate to be the reason behind all the bad things in the world. “Okay, so it must have been me, no? What did I do?” 

Sighing and shaking your head in disbelief at his insistence, you grunt. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jun, can you just stop asking?” you say, the nickname rolling of your tongue automatically, without much thinking. 

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. It does nothing to help you relax or feel better about the situation, but at least you think Renjun finally dropped the topic and won’t ask you about it again. You’d rather have the ground swallow you whole than to admit what’s been bugging you, especially when it’s Renjun himself you’re talking to about the matter.

You were, once again, wrong in your assumptions. Renjun did not drop the topic– no, he just took his sweet time to hit the nail on the head.

“Was it because of Yunjin?” 

The question opens a pit in your stomach, the embarrassment creeping out of your body and making you heat up not helping your case. Hands clammy as you shake your head and gesture, trying to prove your disagreement with the question to the best of your abilities– but only making yourself look stupid and like you’re trying too hard– your words come out weirdly high-pitched, only further proving Renjun’s point.

“No, it– it’s not that, I– I–”

Renjun scoffs at you, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Did she– did she make you feel uncomfortable? I know she’s been staring a lot the whole evening, I’m sorry about that…”

His words do a little to comfort you. You wouldn’t say you were perfectly fine with the fact that he knows that it was his ex girlfriend that’s been on your mind the past few days– because you two aren’t dating, and realistically, this shouldn’t matter to you– but his understanding eyes bearing into yours make you calm down a little when you sigh and avert your gaze, chewing on the inside of your cheek before you speak back up again.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I– It was expected, I guess?”

Renjun hums, eyes focusing somewhere into the unknown. Picking at the skin on your cuticles, you think the conversation is over and you’ve done a good job at playing it off, half of your worries now soothed, but Renjun is a man full of surprises, it seems, when he looks at you again, licking his lips in hesitance.

“But that’s not all, is it?” he asks, but he gets no answer from you. It doesn’t matter– your silence is enough of a conformation. “Look, I didn’t… I didn’t invite you to make her jealous, or anything, if that’s what’s running through that brain of yours, okay? I didn’t even know she would be there.”

Blinking a few times at him, not expecting him to read you so well, you let out the breath you didn’t even know you’ve been holding, nodding at his reassuring words. “Oh…”

“I invited you because I thought you’d have fun… and because I kind of wanted you there. And so did Hyuck, actually, he thinks you’re his platonic soulmate, or something–” the man rambles, explaining his intentions to you, the frantic words coming out of his mouth making you giggle. Relief washes over his face at that, noticing the ease in the atmosphere, his hand gently squeezing your knee when your laughs get quiet. “Everything’s good now?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “thanks. It was silly, but– you know,” you shrug, awkwardly grinning to yourself.

“Yeah,” he sighs out, looking back in front of him, the moment of silent sincerity between the two of you having him open up to you, “it wasn’t like that. me and her… it wasn’t quite the same for a while, you know? Like, I knew it was over before it really happened, but nonetheless, I didn’t expect her to… to do what she did to end it.”

You hum, not really knowing what words you could offer him to console him. Not really wanting to ask any more questions, you wait for him to talk by himself, to assure you’re not insensitive or prying too much. You’ll let him tell you how much he wants, and you’ll silently thank him for the trust he has in you when holding up his feelings to you on a silver platter, naked and vulnerable for you to see and examine. 

“It’s like… I wanted to end it, but not with her cheating on me. That– that hurt more than the actual break up, I think. And maybe it shouldn’t matter, because I wasn’t in love with her anymore anyway, but it still… left a scar, I think,” he hums, and by the way he plays with his fingers in his lap, you can tell he didn’t expect himself to open up to you like this– maybe this is the first time he’s even sharing this with anyone, and the urge to protect him and his heart is suddenly stronger than ever before, even though it’s been somewhere there, deep inside of you, all along.

“That’s valid,” you say, “nobody deserves that to happen to them, no matter how your relationship looked at the time. You were still together, and she shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble, hoping to provide comfort to him, but also hoping your words aren’t unwelcome at this very moment.

The blonde looks at you, an appreciative smile appearing on his face. “Thanks,” he says. There’s nothing to thank you for, you think, but perhaps those are the words he needed to hear for a while now. Perhaps your sentences just mended something in him, perhaps you were the voice that finally made him admit that what he’s been feeling about the situation wasn’t stupid or irrational.

In a moment of weakness, a selfish masochism, even, you let out a prying sentence slip out of your lips– a sentence that could hurt you, have you not been prepared for the outcome. And maybe you were going too far, maybe you should’ve stayed quiet, but you can’t turn back time and the words were already spoken. “Do you ever miss her?” 

Renjun thinks for a while– a heartbeat of a second that makes you feel like you’re falling into a deep abyss– before he shakes his head. “Not really. Not her, I don’t miss her. I think that sometimes, I just miss what we had, but… that’s long gone.”

Humming indifferently, you accept his response in a quiet solace. 

You don’t know where this conversation brings you, but you bet it’s a step in some direction.

After a while, with Renjun’s head soundly resting on your shoulder when the silence gets too long, yet a comforting aura still shades the two of you sitting at the stairs, there’s a black Ford Fiesta honking at the parking lot, the two of you jumping to your feet. The boy drags you to the backseat, your bags hitting the floor of the vehicle, as Jeno looks back at you from the front, smiling at you with moon crescents in his eyes.

“Hello!”

“Hi,” you breathe out.

“Is Y/N tagging along?” Hyuck gasps from the passenger’s seat, turning towards you two, a face of a pleasant surprise written all over his face. You know what, maybe Renjun was right and you and his roommate are platonic soulmates of some sort. Or at least that’s how Lee Donghyuck’s been acting ever since the day he met you.

“I’m not,” you giggle, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Jeno, can you drop Y/N off at her apartment?” Renjun hums, and suddenly, the previous worries leave you as soon as the tall man nods and tells you to navigate him to your place. There was no reason why you’d be rejected by Renjun’s friends– for more reasons than one, you just aren’t aware of them yet.

The ride to your apartment is filled with laughter. Squinting at your project partner sitting next to you at the back of the car, you notice that he’s glowing brightly in the reflections of the lampposts shining through the windows of the car, a stolen galaxy swirling in his eyes when your eyes meet when you pay your goodbyes to the guys while getting off at your driveway a few minutes later.

And it’s quite funny. You don’t even live that far.

–

Clapping when your favorite writer completes the little interactive Q&A at the local library on a Monday afternoon– all throughout you didn’t have any courage to ask any questions yourself, even though you had plenty– you stand up from your place at one of the little, lanky folding chairs in the back of the room and smooth your hands over the skirt of your dress, getting the creases out. You’ve learned a lot about the author today– all from how she started writing, what inspired her to write your most favorite novel, and where she finds her inspiration for writing. You have a lot of information, yet, you still bet you could master more questions, if you were to do an interview with her– you wouldn’t even have to try as hard. 

Reading is one of your passions, it’s something that brought you to the love you have for writing, and although you didn’t stick with fiction for long, finding that the world building and creating plot and characters got boring for you after a while, you found your love for writing shining through when you type articles; making sure your headlines are captivating, that your articles are well-structured and bring something new to the table. It’s a completely different branch– some would say a less creative one– but it’s undeniable that the love for it started in you when you first started reading books, when you were little, in the quiet and comfort of your room.

Glancing back at Renjun, the boy follows you like a lost puppy (you bet it’s his first time at the library, despite him owning quite a few books himself– you noticed so while examining his room one time and found classics in his bookshelf), he offers you a soft smile, nudging you to keep walking. There’s a line forming towards the head of the room, where the writer is still sitting, numbers of passionate readers and fans of her work waiting to get their books signed. There’s a little stand in the middle of the far right wall, containing numerous books written by the person currently sitting in the same room, breathing the same air as you two, and you don’t hesitate to buy the latest one, the one you haven’t had the chance to read yet, with the intention of getting it signed.

“Which one’s your favorite?” Renjun asks, standing close to you and pointing towards the stacks of books on the stand.

“That one,” you hum, bringing his attention to the paperback cover at the very corner of the stand, watching as the man takes it into his hands and flips it over, reading through the summary. He looks like one of those Pinterest boards you’d title ‘Dark academia’ with a series of emojis that fit the ‘aesthetic’, with his plaid coat layered on top of a knitted, light brown sweater, the blonde fringe slightly falling into his eyes. 

“I’ll get this one, then,” he looks at one of the ladies behind the stand, smiling at her as he gets his wallet out.

“Don’t you want the latest one?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, smiling at the lady once again when the book is back in his hold, paid for and now in his ownership. His eyes are back at you when he offers you the explanation. “You said you liked this one, so I wanna try it. And you don’t know if the latest one is any good, so at least I’ve heard a good review on this one and don’t have to be afraid of buying a shitty book,” he snickers, making you roll your eyes at the tone of his voice, but still, there’s a little man in your brain screaming at the top of his lungs– screeching, even– at the action, the gears in your brain turning faster and faster as you let yourself indulge and overthink his words. He bought it because it’s your favorite– so he said– and in a split second of delusion, it doesn’t matter to you if it was just because he wanted to be sure the book is good, or if it was just him wanting to read your favorite book as a way of learning more about you.

“As if any of her books could be bad,” you mumble, moving slowly through the line. You’re the last ones waiting for the autograph, and while there’s still a lot of people in front of you, you can’t help but feel a little nervous at the promise of an interaction with the author.

“Well, you can never really know. Everyone has bad days.”

Snickering at his argument, you shake your head in disbelief and move a few steps forward again. You’ve taken a few photographs of the library while you were sitting and listening to the talk; a few of the author– to capture the nice memory– and some of the interior as well, showcasing the numerous shelves filled with books of different genres that the library provides. Still, you take the camera into your hands again, taking a few more– you were sure to get permission from the smiley and welcoming librarians when you arrived– trying to capture the atmosphere and the heartwarming aura of it all. A little selfishly, for your own memory, you turn to your companion and point the lens towards him, seeing as he poses with the book, acting a little silly when you take the picture, and when he breaks into an amused grin after, you take another one– a moment captured in time, his toothy laugh on full display. When you look at the picture again, your heart warms up a little at the image. Maybe you could get it printed out and add it to your memory book alongside the pictures you have from your first university parties and moving into the new apartment with Jimin– just so you have something to look back to.

Soon enough, you reach the front of the room, your bodies only a few steps away from the author. When the last guests in front of you leave, paying their goodbyes, you take a step forward with a little sigh, trying to encourage yourself and also calm down the erratic beating of your heart, ready to face the idol you’ve been looking up to since you were 11. With Renjun on your side, you put on your most picture-worthy smile, clammy hands offering the book to the writer when you reach the long table, choking on your words.

“Hello,” you greet, not really knowing what to say. You would be lying if you said you didn’t rehearse this in your brain seventy different times ever since you talked with Renjun about going to the library last week, trying to make up the perfect scenario and find the best words to use when you finally meet her, but in this very moment, the whole script flies through the window and you’re left silent and hesitant, heat rising to your cheeks when you can’t seem to find the right words to say.

“Hello,” you hear Renjun greet shortly after you, bumping into you a little with his hip when he stumbles to the table, seemingly more calm than you, trying to save the day, “my name’s Huang Renjun,” he says, and you want to kick him in his shin– because who even does that? Who tells their full name to a stranger, an author he’s never heard of before actually attending this meet and greet, acting as if he was an old friend of hers, meeting the famous writer after a long time? You almost thought he’d save you from the embarrassment and lead the way, from the way he approached her, but after hearing those words come out of his mouth, you almost go to scold him for his behavior.

To your surprise, though, the writer’s eyes widen in what seems to be realization, nodding to herself. “So you must be Y/N!” she says, looking back at you, a welcoming smile appearing on her lips. 

“I- I-” you stutter, suddenly feeling really confused. Is this a dream? Are you asleep? Or is your favorite writer suddenly a psychic too? What are you missing?

“Yeah! She’s just a little nervous right now,” he grins, taking a short look at you before he turns back to the author, “so… I take it as you haven’t changed your mind about the interview?”

“Not at all! I’m actually really happy to hear that students are taking interest in my writing and that they want to interview me,” she says, quickly signing your books on the front pages, offering them back to you, “I usually don’t give interviews just to anyone– you know, it would get a little too busy if I did that– but your passion really caught my attention.It reminds me of myself when I was your age… Just give me a few seconds, I have a phone call to make right now, but after I’m done, I’m all yours!” 

“Of course!” Renjun nods, watching as the author stands up from the table and disappears in one of the back rooms, seemingly to take care of the call. Turning back to you, still finding you dumbfounded from the interaction, he can’t help but let out an amused laugh. “Are you okay over there?”

“I- What-” you stutter, shaking your head as if to make your brain reboot, dragging your hand through your hair to get it out of your face, “how did you even manage to- she doesn’t even-” you fail to create coherent sentences, shock and surprise overshadowing your otherwise good choice of vocabulary, confusion spreading over your face like a shadow.

“I have my ways,” he shrugs nonchalantly, as if this was the easiest thing to accomplish, once again breaking into a grin when he sees your stoic face, “maybe try to smile a little? She might think you’re terrified of her if you keep frowning like that.”

“I am,” you mumble, still not quite comprehending the situation.

Rolling his eyes at you, he snickers. “Come on,” he says, “I bet you have plenty of questions for her up in that brain of yours,” he points to the middle of your forehead, shaking his head at your frozen figure.

“I do, but-” you mumble, catching yourself mid-sentence, “how did you even-” the words stream out your mouth, a puzzled expression not leaving your face.

“You can thank me later. Now focus on your job,” he says, turning you by your shoulders and pushing you a little towards the author that has now emerged out of the back room, a welcoming glint in her eye when her eyes land at the two aspiring journalists.

On that Monday afternoon, with sweaty palms and tongue-tied as you stutter out the curious questions, making an interview for your imaginary magazine, you learn that contrary to the popular demand, Huang Renjun is quite full of surprises. 

The longer you know Renjun, the more you hang out without the purpose of working on your assignment together. Truth be told, you started working on it pretty early into the semester, and while others were now aimlessly pulling all nighters to complete the magazine, you and Renjun were pretty much done with it already by now, since you forced the man to start working on it as soon as it was possible. He didn’t say it out loud, but you can tell he was thankful for that– it would kill the both of you if you had to focus on the project now, when exam season is slowly, but surely in reach and you’ll have to start studying soon.

It was a little awkward at first– you still remember the first time you watched Netflix with him in the silence of his apartment, with his mood very apparently below zero– starting with the two of you taking breaks in between working on your assignment, talking about the latest episodes of the anime you two have, coincidentally, chosen to watch at the same time; later progressing into full on sessions of gossip with his roommate Donghyuck joining the two of you at the comfortable couch. You’d say your friendship started a little this way, with you and Renjun running to the convenience store when you ran out of snacks in the middle of your study sessions and the two of you randomly laughing at something in your Journalism class, earning yourself scolding looks from the professor. It was unexpected, but you grew familiar with the antics, flowing through the days together, filling the boring days with texts full of TikTok links and Donghyuck sending you random pictures of your project partner all zoomed in on Snapchat. You even invited Renjun over a few times, Jimin accepting the new man in the comfort of your home when she realized he’s not as bad as he used to be before, as you ate up all of your snacks this time around instead, having impromptu karaoke sessions in your room, trying to quiz each other on the lyrics of your top tracks of the last year on Spotify. 

Everything felt casual, growing more in tune with the man he was, learning his antics and all about his character. You quickly learned that when he’s feeling down, he gets a little snappy– a bad habit you made him recognise and try to eliminate, at least when you’re around. You found out that when he’s nervous, he bites his nails, and you choose to slap his palms from the proximity of his lips whenever you catch him in the act. When he’s annoyed– much like when you prevent him from the action of gnawing at his fingernails until the skin around them  bleeds– he rolls his eyes and sighs, sometimes even shakes his head at you in disapproval. He looks adorable while doing so, but to save both of you the embarrassment, you’d never tell him out loud.

And you’d even dare to say he learns about you too. He’s an observing individual, and you’d even argue that he cares about you at least a little. For one, he’s not rude towards you anymore, the way he was when you two first started talking, and also, he shows his affection towards you in the most Renjun ways possible. He’d argue that he’s not good with words, but he’s always there to affirm you with them in his true love language whenever you’re stressed or overwhelmed with responsibilities. He also remembers your favorite drinks and snacks, opting to save them for you whenever you come by his place, and even slipping some into your bag before you leave his apartment. He’s a caring individual, a big hearted man, delicate in all directions.

You believe it’s impossible not to fall for him at least a little. Not when you really know him– the way you do, from up close, in his most joyful moments and the ones where he tries to battle you away when the ghosts in his brain try to make him shelter himself away from everyone too.

But you wouldn’t tell him that. Never in a thousand years.

“I hate all this fucking snow,” you tell him instead, when you walk by his side with your groceries in hand, the tips of your fingers brittled from the cold. “Why is it even snowing in the first place, it’s the end of February, for fuck’s sake!” 

The two of you decided to go for a grocery run together, and while some would say it’s not a fun activity to do, you think you like experiencing mundane things with your close ones the most. If you enjoy someone’s company, you truly do not care what you do together– you always go pick up packages from the post with Jimin, or drive your little sibling to the store when you’re back home, even though the action itself doesn’t provide you any conventionally ‘fun’ experiences, most of these are a fond memory in your brain, because you got to spend time with someone you love. It’s the same right now– even though it’s snowing heavily and you can’t feel your feet from the cold– you went to buy groceries with Renjun when he texted you about it, realizing you could buy some things you ran out of as well, opting to walk there together.

“I thought you liked winter?” he snickers, seeing your grumpy expression. 

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you said you hated summer,” he says, matter of factly, making you giggle to mask the warmth spreading on your insides from the knowledge that he remembers the random fact you once told him when you were working on your project together.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like winter either,” you say, shrugging.

“Do you even like anything?”

“No,” you shake your head, totally serious before you burst into laughter, “kidding. I like spring,” you smile at him, eloquently, shuffling your legs along the snowed-in ground, moving closer to the campus, near to where you both live.

“I like spring too, actually.”

“Because your birthday’s in spring?” you snicker, teasing him.

“Maybe,” he admits, laughing with you. “No, but I think spring’s neat for a number of reasons. It always feels… like a new beginning, perhaps? After months of silence, you can finally hear the chirping of birds in the morning, and the sun sets later too, so the days feel longer…” he says, and you find yourself observing him, admiring the love he has for the season.

“Exactly,” you nod, pointing your gaze towards the ground when you notice that he caught you staring, embarrassment creeping up your back before you shudder from the cold, heavy snowflakes falling on top of your head, drenching your freshly washed locks and making your cheeks burn with cold. You can’t remember the last time it snowed so hard– you were in for a couple of warm winters for the last couple of years– and as much as you hate to admit it because of your noticeable aversion towards winter, you must say it looks quite magical.

“Look, I know you hate winter, but you do have windows in your flat, right?” he jokes, making you roll your eyes at the nagging you know you’re about to hear. “Maybe look out of them before you go out, so you could dress for the weather the next time.”

“Very funny,” you snicker, “I’ll let you know, it wasn’t snowing when I was getting ready.”

“Okay then, maybe start using the weather app. It’s great if you want to know how cold it really is outside, and you’re quite good with technology, so maybe you could-”

“Oh, fuck off,” you snap, but feel yourself grinning at the teasing.

The man lets out a sigh– a habit of frustration he does a lot whenever you’re around– before you feel him tugging something onto the top of your head, your ears suddenly shielded by soft fabric. Looking up at your companion in shock, you notice that the beanie that had been sitting on his head until now is covering yours instead; and although you appreciate the gesture with a giddy clench on your insides, you find yourself protesting.

“Jun! You’ll get cold,” you pout.

“Okay, but so will you, and as far as I’m concerned, I have more layers on than you right now, so you need it more than me,” he shrugs, all nonchalant, making you hesitantly smile at him and shut up, keeping the warm wool over your head. 

Next time, you’ll look at the weather app to save your heart some trouble. 

Or maybe you won’t.

Walking closer to your apartment complex, naturally accepting the fact that Renjun decided to walk you home– or just hasn’t realized he’s doing so yet– you fall into comfortable conversation, mostly consisting of you complaining and Renjun finding your tangent amusing.

“My groceries will get all wet! Fucking hell, Renjun…”

“I didn’t force you to come,” he laughs.

“Well, but you have the weather app, as opposed to me, so maybe you could’ve predicted the fact that it was going to snow soon,” you pout, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“And if I did?” 

“Then why’d you drag me out?” you huff, nearing the steps that lead up towards the front door of your building, being careful not to slip on them as you stand on the first one, towering above the man that takes his position opposite of you while you say your goodbyes. 

“Okay, next time get your groceries alone, if you’re just gonna complain the whole way,” he giggles at your fake offendance, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Snowflakes settle on the tops of his cheekbones, the rosy tint in his face taking your breath away, something in his eyes captivating you and hypnotizing you into doing things you would’ve never dared to do as you reach out towards his hair, now wet from the snow that manages to melt away on his body, brushing your hand through the locks.

“It’s gotten so long,” you muse, “the blonde’s all grown out now.”

He hums, the eye contact making you heat up despite the coldness that’s been trying to seep into your bones. “Maybe I should dye it back to black, then.”

Grinning, you shrug as your hand escapes his scalp. “Yeah,” you nod, “maybe you should.”

“It’s a plan, then,” he says before he grins, poking you in your forehead with his pointer finger as he takes a step back from you, heading towards the direction of his apartment. “I’ll text you,” he adds.

Paying your goodbyes to him, you stumble inside and reach your flat, your whole body on fire even though you’ve been freezing until now as you take off your wet shoes and tug the borrowed beanie from your head. Putting away the groceries, you wonder if there’s a significance in his decision, if the change of hair is the same as the reason why he loves spring; if new things are beginning, or if you’ve just tricked yourself into falling for him too hard.

“You have to mix it together with this first!” Renjun whines, sitting at the edge of the bathtub as he watches you open the box dye you bought together at the drugstore a few hours ago, pointing his finger at the white pack containing the mixing solution.

“Oh,” you mumble, clammy hands flying around and trying to read the instructions instead, too worried to mess up again and accidentally burn Renjun’s hair off. After a few moments of you silently turning the big sheet of paper around in all directions, you hear your companion snicker under his breath, standing up from his position at the edge of the bathtub and mixing the dye with the solution in a little plastic container he got from under the sink himself instead.

“Let me do it,” he shakes his head, “didn’t know you were this useless.”

“If you didn’t want me here, you could’ve just said so,” you put the instruction paper down, crossing your arms on your chest as you take a step back and look at him with an offended pout, watching as he gets everything ready. His hair is sticking all over the place and the shirt he has on is stained with bleach– you suspect he wore this exact outfit a few months ago when he dyed his hair blonde– the fabric hanging loosely down his shoulders. 

“I’m perfectly capable of dying my hair on my own, if you didn’t notice,” he says, “me wanting you here is the sheer reason for your presence.”

Heart skipping a beat at the sentence, masking it off with a fakely annoyed sigh, you watch him take a seat back at the edge of the bathtub when he’s done, motioning for you to take matters into your hands and start dying his hair. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I’ll do so just to spite you,” you argue back, taking the plastic container with the dye into your hand and standing close to Renjun, parting his hair down the middle as you get the chemical-smelling mixture into his growing locks. Focused on the task at hand, trying really hard not to get the dye all over the place, you almost get lost in the motion of playing with his hair and pay too much attention to each section, your touch gentle not to tug at his hair. It  makes you not notice the way you’re suddenly standing in between Renjun’s opened legs, your skin covered by fabrics of sweatpants touching.

His head suddenly moves, making you almost dye his whole forehead black, when he plops a gummy worm into his mouth and regains his previous position. 

“Stop moving or else it’s gonna look bad!” you scowl, frustrated with the fact that he made you lose your focus.

“Want a gummy worm?” he asks, looking up at you with an innocent smile instead– as if to make you forget all about his actions from before– and you reward him with an annoyed shake of your head that shows him disapproval which he seemingly chooses to ignore as he reaches into the pack of gummies again and holds one up to your lips, fingertips brushing against the skin of your mouth making you feel heat in your cheeks. You didn’t want a gummy worm, but with the proximity of his hand to your face and the starry gaze he offers you when you meet his eyes, you don’t hesitate to take the gummy into your mouth and chew on the candy, earning yourself a satisfied smile.

Turning towards his hair again, the last few strands left undyed waiting for your attention, the man suddenly squeezes your thigh, making you wince. “How is it going up there?”

“Good,” you choke out, suddenly hyper aware of his hand resting on the skin of your leg, as if to hold you in place, his other hand working almost on auto-pilot as he completes the symmetry and grazes your other thigh, his touch on you so gentle you could almost miss it if you didn’t pay enough attention.

“If it’s patchy, I’m blaming you and not the dye,” he teases, drumming against your leg with his fingers, each little gesture making you less and less focused on his hair and more on the way his eyelashes fan over his cheekbones from above, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from making any sound close to frustration or the sound of perhaps losing your mind. 

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have bought the cheapest one.”

“I’m staying on budget,” he says, making you snicker.

Forcing yourself to focus back onto his hair, you finally complete your task of dying the man’s hair back to its original color. Taking a step back from him and putting the plastic container onto the sink, you start to miss the feeling of his hand on your skin; his hair slicked back by the dye makes him look oddly amusing, though, so you let a grin slip out at the sight of your companion sitting at the edge of the bathtub like a scolded child, his legs outstretched right in front of him and a pack of gummy worms once again firmly gripped in the palm of his hand.

After cleaning up the mess you’ve made on the bathroom sink, with Renjun singing to himself as he put up a timer on his phone for 20 minutes, you find yourself in his kitchen, walking around and finding a pot in which you could cook some ramen for dinner. It’s getting quite late and it’s rare that you find yourself alone in Renjun’s apartment with him, his roommate finally getting out after the dreaded exam season to celebrate, and you can’t help but find the domesticity of sharing his space with him– although this is not the first time– overtake you in a deep feeling of intimacy.

Stirring the noodles around with a fork you found in one of the drawers, listening to the low hums of Renjun singing in the bathroom as he cleans up the skin on his forehead and behind his ears with a wet cotton pad, you wonder how you managed to get used to this– how you even managed to find yourself in the presence of Huang Renjun so often, after only hearing about him from gossip around the school halls and hating his presence when you first had to work with him. It’s ironic, but you don’t hate it quite as much as you would think. 

“You’re making ramen?” he asks as he finally reaches the kitchen, big eyes full of thankfulness meeting yours when he notices you getting out some plates to transfer the meal into, since you’re close to being done.

Humming in agreement, you see him lean on the kitchen counter from the corner of your eye, a satisfied smile reaching his lips. “I should invite you over more often.”

“I’m here like twice a week, Jun,” you mumble, focused on not spilling the meal all over the place.

“Well, if it means you’ll cook all the time, you can even move in, if you want to” he jokes, making you shake your head in disbelief as you take the plates and move them to the coffee table you are so used to sitting at by now, since the boys don’t really have a dining table in their apartment, making them (and sometimes you joining) eat all the meals at the coffee table, sitting on the ground.

“And where would I sleep? On the couch? No, thank you,” you shake your head, digging into the noodles and blowing on them to make them cool faster.

“I’ll kick Hyuck out, so you can have his room,” he mumbles in between bites, following you. 

“So you just want me to be your maid, got it,” you nod.

“That’s not what I said,” he looks at you with offense, before digging into the noodles again, mumbling under his nose before taking a bite, “although you would look nice in a maid dress-”

Kicking him in the leg, seeing as he chokes up on the food from laughing, you shake your head in disbelief at his antics. You think it’s the hair dye getting to his brain, so when his timer goes off in a few minutes after you’re both done with the food, you thank god for bringing you out of your misery. 

Listening to the sound of the shower as he washes the hair dye off, you take it upon yourself to clean up the dishes. You’d feel bad for leaving a mess in his kitchen, and you also think it’s a nice thing to do. It only takes a few minutes before he’s out of the bathroom again, hair damply sitting on his forehead, his figure twirling like a ballerina– reminding you of the way you did little fashion shows for your father whenever you came home from shopping with your mum– waiting for what you have to say about his new look, although in true reality, he looks just the same as a few months ago. 

“Does it look good?”

“I can’t tell ‘cause it’s wet,” you say, squinting your eyes at the mess on his head, “go blow dry it.”

“Fuck no,” he shakes his head, protesting, “I hate blow drying my hair.”

“Why? I can’t tell if it’s patchy this way,” you say.

“My hands get tired and I get bored and I just really don’t enjoy the experience,” he simply states, and he wins– whether this was his intention or not– as you drag him back to the bathroom and get out of him where he keeps the blow dryer, plugging it in and moving to do it for him. 

There it is again– that funny feeling in your stomach as you move your hands through his hair, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as you blow dry his locks. The feeling makes you weak in your knees as you look at the boy who now has his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the motion of your fingers threading through his freshly dyed strands, and when you finally turn the device off and watch him open his eyes, looking at you half-lidded and seemingly a little tired, you once again notice his hands on your thighs as he sits at the bathtub, although now the touch is more firm, pulling you close to him. 

“Are you happy now that your hair is black?” you find yourself asking, your eyes bearing into him as you reference the dialogue you two had when he dyed his hair blonde, when you two didn’t know each other well just yet and he told you the wishful secret of wanting to have more fun as a blonde since he was sad when his hair was black. 

His smile looks a little drunk, despite the both of you being completely sober as he replies, acting as if he was getting tipsy off your proximity and gentle touch. “My hair’s black because I’m happy, not the other way around,” he mumbles, your eyes momentarily drifting to his pretty lips as he talks, their rosy plumpiness making it hard for you to unstuck your gaze from the curve of his smile and focus on other features of his face.

“Good,” you nod, your hands finding their place at his shoulders, almost going for a hug, but never really completing the action. 

“So how do I look?” he asks again, your conversation growing quiet in the intimate atmosphere, voices not wanting to interrupt the calm, yet tense harbor. 

Examining him, you find yourself once again attracted to the boy you see in front of you. He looks exactly like he did before his break-up– yet now, you’d argue and say he looks even better; healthier and more radiant, his features gentle, hair a little longer and his smile reminding you of an angel. Humming to yourself, you brush your hands through his black strands again, letting yourself indulge in your growing feelings for the man for just a second, before the moment is gone. “Really pretty,” you mumble, watching as his smile grows for a mere second before his eyes drift from yours down to your lips, making you forget how to breathe.

Your hands continue to get lost in his hair as you stare at each other for a while, silence in the bathroom making you listen in on each other’s breathing, before your brain fails you and you let yourself operate on auto-pilot, leaning down to his face, surprised to see him meet you in the middle. You kiss him as if you’ve been waiting ages to do so, your lips molding in with his in a perfect harmony, firm, yet still unmistakably gentle contact making you shiver. 

It feels like a century before you pull away, ready to face the consequences of your actions, when he captures your lips in another kiss, drunk on the action. Feeling him standing up from the edge of the bathtub and moving his hands to firmly grip your waist before he walks you backwards against the tiled wall, the coldness of it mixing with the heat spreading across your body makes you gasp into the kiss and invite his tongue into your mouth.

Your hands fall from his hair and find their way around his neck, tugging him close, while one of his gentle palms rests on your jaw, angling your face in a way that lets him take control and have you even closer, two bodies seeking each other’s presence.

“Renjun…” you gasp when his lips move away from yours, leaving kisses down your jaw, slowly reaching the delicate skin of your neck and the conjunction of your shoulder. 

He hums into your skin, a cold hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt making you wince, all of his actions making your senses hyper aware to the touch and feeling of his lips pressed against you, especially when he finds the sweet spot behind your ear and makes you squirm under him, the feeling of his smile against your skin turning you crazy.

Finding yourself tugging his face back to yours, taking back his lips, his hand travels up your side, leaving goosebumps all over your skin with the cold motions of his fingertips, you shiver under his caring, yet teasing touch. The kiss feels as if it’s one step away from heaven, letting out a satisfied sound when he softly brushes the underside of your breast.

Pressing him closer against you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his neck, you feel him hard against your thigh, neediness overtaking you as you lightly move against him, hearing him choke out a breath. “Is- is this okay?” he asks, voice not louder than a whisper before you continue with your motions, answering with your actions before using your words, breathing growing quicker with the way the friction makes you feel.

“More than okay with me,” you mumble, seemingly encouraging him as he presses you firmer against the tiled wall, helping you guide your desperate movements. Foreheads pressed against each other, breathing mixing in the silent room, you can’t seem to find it in you to stop, completely losing yourself in him and in the way he makes you feel, selfishly chasing down release from all the butterflies and electric stares he’s been sending your way.

Grunting when you press up against him in a way that sends sparks down his spine, his hand reaches up under your thigh, almost on the skin of your butt, holding up your leg to make more room and get you even closer to him, before he heaves out a sigh. “Let’s go to my room?” he asks hastily before you nod and let him plop you up against his figure with your legs entangled around his middle, escaping the cold tiles of the bathroom and walking over to the his room smelling of fresh laundry detergent and vanilla, soft sheets enveloping your body when he lightly drops you into his mattress.

A giggle escapes your lips at the contact of your body with the bed, earning yourself a playful roll of Renjun’s eyes as he leans over you, plopping himself up on one elbow above you, caging you in his embrace. Maintaining eye contact with him, blissful smiles stretching on your lips, you almost think the moment is over, but he quickly brings you back to the neediness you felt before as he leans in again, kissing you painfully slowly while his hand reaches under the hem of your shirt, letting his palm travel against your body. His actions make you shiver as his fingertips softly tickle your side, moving towards the dip of your waist, then back up across your stomach as he traces mindless shapes against your skin, occasionally letting himself travel up towards the fabric of your bra. Cupping one of your breasts into his hand, you let out a soft grunt when he squeezes the flesh softly enough to make you yearn for more.

Mirroring his actions, your hand moves under his loose shirt, hypnotized by the heat of his flesh. Enveloped in his warmth and the smell of him in his bedsheets, you let yourself roam up his abdomen, embracing the way his muscles jolt a little under your touch, before your hand settles onto his back, fingertips dancing up and down his spine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles, making you break into a blissful smile, before his hand lazily dips down your belly, seeking approval in your eyes, “can I?” 

Nodding, afraid of seeming a little too eager– although maybe he would welcome that with open arms– you feel his fingertips messily dragging down the waistband of your sweatpants a little by little, leaving you in front of him only in your underwear, his lips swallowing your sighs when he hesitantly brushes his thumb against your clit. 

His movements get more confident as he adds more pressure, making you let out a few more muffled sounds he welcomes with a cocky smile, demeanor shifting as he presses a wet kiss against your cheek when he drags your underwear down and gets back to where he was before, but now acting more gently– as if the contact of your bare core with his fingers made him afraid you’re gonna break in his hold. Softly nudging your thighs, opening up your legs and softly tracing his pointer finger down your slit, he makes your cheeks flush from the contact and the feeling of air against your naked bottom half.

He doesn’t say much as he tests the waters, dragging his digits along your folds, examining your reaction when he circles your sensitive bud and sees you crumble under his touch. Your hands grip his pearl white sheets, not really knowing what to do to ground yourself back to reality, the man above you finally finding enough courage in him to insert one finger, then two inside of you, watching you react to his actions.

“Feels good,” escapes your lips, and truthfully, you didn’t even catch yourself saying it. It left your mouth on itself, your tone a little fragile but full of eagerness, wanting more– and seemingly understanding, he moves inside you with more reason now, hitting the right spot that makes your eyebrows crease and your breathing hitch in your throat.

“There?” he asks, as if to tease you. In any other circumstance, you’d find it in you to bark back something full of sarcasm and irony, but now, vulnerable and sensitive to his every move, you only nod eagerly and meet his eyes which are now clouded with lust, a view you’ve never experienced before, but welcome with undeniable curiosity.

Angling his fingers inside of you just the way you need them, you quickly feel yourself reaching your high, one of your hands flying to his forearm as if to let him know or warn him, somehow. Judging by his actions, he got the memo– showing his experience when he continues with the same speed and pressure, keeping still– before he slowly trips you over the edge, having you clenching around his fingers as you let moans slip out from your lips, euphoria taking over your whole body.

His figure leans into you, holding you close as your breathing comes back to normal, his lips press soft kisses to your temple. It’s almost a hint that the act is over, his actions growing more tender as opposed to the way he had you just a few moments prior, but you find yourself not wanting it to end, tugging his shirt up and earning yourself a questioning look.

“More?” you mumble, looking at him, grabby hands helping him take his shirt off. Your please sound almost like a question– they may as well be, for you don’t know if he wants this too– but he reacts to you positively when you have your eyes roaming across his bare torso, hands flying towards your own shirt, taking it off before you chastly press against him, both of you sitting at his bed, meeting him in a kiss as you settle yourself into his lap. 

In this moment, there’s nothing but him. Your head spins with his essence, your brain painfully aware of everything; of your hands holding his cheeks when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth, chasing after his neck in a desperate need of leaving a mark, wanting evidence of you being there the next morning, so you could remind yourself that this wasn’t just a dream or a product of your own imagination. When you press down against his lap, dragging your naked core against his hard on, his hands grip your sides, sneaky fingers trailing up after a moment as he tugs the straps of your bra down before slipping it off completely, leaving you naked in front of him.

Lifting you by your hips and moving you back against his pillow, laying you into his sheets, he lets you drag his sweatpants down, your fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxers and gently dragging along the sensitive skin, feeling needier at the sounds of satisfaction escaping his lips. Bringing him closer with your other hand, he takes a moment to confirm with you one last time. 

“Are you sure you… want this?” he doesn’t seem to find the right words, leaving you softly laughing at his puzzled expression.

“I am,” you nod, assuring him, “I- I want you,” you mumble, still loud and clear, and he wastes no time in freeing himself of his underwear and aligning himself with your entrance.

He slowly pushes inside of you, his whole length filling you up. He leaves you some time to adjust, checking in with you with a look to your eyes, fingertips gently dragging your hair out of your face before you confirm with him that you’re okay with a soft nod, making him move and gently thrust inside of you; painfully slow at first, but reaching deep, taking in every inch of you. Pleasure builds inside of you as his thrusts become more quicker, finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl and your hands fly to his back, scratching down along his skin when he hits your spot and your eyes shut in a spell of satisfied sighs.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your lips, a sentence sweet enough to make your cheeks flush under him– yet you think the heat you feel is more than shyness from his words, but from the contact of his skin on yours, driving you absolutely crazy.

His finger gently plays with your clit, slowly, but surely tipping you over the edge. You hold back a moan, head falling to your side on his pillow, Renjun’s lips pressing kisses into the now exposed areas of your neck, still going at a steady rhythm. 

“Fuck,” you let out when he picks up at speed, the imaginary glass of pleasure in you getting fuller and fuller, making afraid of it spilling out when he keeps going, your hand flying into his hair, tugging at it in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, “I’m close.”

He hums against your neck, softly biting a bruise into your flesh. He doesn’t say much, again– his loving is quiet, only occasionally letting out needy noises out past his lips here and there, grunts slipping out when you feel just right around him. You find it hard to keep up with the silence, blissful sounds escaping you when he takes you over the edge. Your walls clench around him as he’s still thrusting into you, chasing down his climax and making the most out of yours. You swear you can see stars, the tips of your fingers starting to tingle when you get a little too overstimulated, but before you can do anything about it, he slips out of you and warmth spreads on your stomach, his body crashing next to yours.

He doesn’t say much after either. The room falls into silence, your bodies heaving with deep breaths as you try to calm down the erratic beating of your hearts. Mindlessly threading your fingers through his hair, you stare at the ceiling, his arms draped over your middle, occasionally playing with the flesh of your hip, squeezing it with his palm and dragging his fingertips across the soft skin. Looking down at him, not seeing much other than the raven locks falling into his forehead and his closed eyes, you try hard to appreciate the closeness of his body, just in case you don’t get to experience it ever again.

Feeling his nose nuzzling into your skin, you wonder if he’s happy.

Dark, wallowing pit opens up in your stomach, the harrowing feeling you didn’t know you could recognise fills you up to your rim; your vision goes a little blurry at the sight in front of you and after a few seconds of torturing yourself by watching, you feel the bitter taste of blood on your tongue from gnawing at the gentle skin of your bottom lip too hard. That alone wakes you up from the weird transe you’ve been put in, making you turn on your heel and chime outside of the building, the iced americano in your hand thrown in the nearest trash can as you take the short way home, suddenly wanting to hide away from everyone and everything, too fragile to deal with the outer world today.

You open up the door to your apartment with a little struggle, your hand shaking not making it easy for you to put the key inside the keyhole, and when you finally get to the comfort of your little place, you’re met with Jimin’s concerned eyes waiting for you in the hall, her figure hesitantly walking over when she heard you struggle with the door.

Closing the door behind you a little too loudly, careless in your actions from how hard your heart is hammering against your ribcage, your roommate approaches you with gentle words. “What happened? Weren’t you meeting up with–”

“No,” you shake your head, cutting off her sentence before his name manages to come out of her mouth, your throat closing as you choke out the response; the soft gaze she offers you at the stern words of disapproval makes your eyes water even though you already promised yourself you wouldn’t cry over this.

“Oh, sweetie,” Jimin mumbles as her long legs make their way towards your shrunken figure, enveloping you in her arms. You let yourself be comforted, almost yearning for the slow strokes she gives your back, her long fingers threading through your hair. There aren’t many instances where you two had to hold each other in the entrance hall, too afraid of letting go before one of you breaks. You remember her breaking up with her boyfriend Jaehyun– they dated for a couple of months last year before he had to move away and a long distance relationship wasn’t something either of them was willing to put each other through– but that time, it was in the comfort of her bedroom and you watched the first season of Too hot to handle together after it was done to take her mind off things. You, however, don’t have much dating experience. Not a significant one anyway– you only dated in high school, and even though the boy you crowned your first in many things was sweet, you simply fell out of love with him after a few months and called it quits, with no tears shed and no hearts broken.

“I think I was just a rebound,” you get out in between your quiet sobs, the image of Renjun sitting at the cafeteria with Yunjin, his soft gaze offered to her as she leaned over the table and said something quietly to him before pressing a kiss to his cheek only further proving your claims.

And you guess you were the stupid one– you guess you were silly for thinking he was over his ex already, even if it’s been a couple of months since they broke up, even if he told you he didn’t miss her, but was sad to let go what they had– because the sweetness in his eyes when he looked at her hurt you more than you could’ve ever imagined, because you think you remember him looking at you like that the evening you dyed his hair black; you remember him looking at you like you hung up the stars on the sky, and you believed the gentle gaze– you believed there was something more than sex to it, you believed he felt the same feelings as the ones you’ve been harboring for the boy ever since you first hanged out at his place and watched Netflix with him to take his mind off the said girl.

Jimin doesn’t ask any questions– she knows you’ll tell her eventually, you just need comfort right now. Sniffling as you try to come down from the heartbreak you’ve caused yourself, you groggily get out a sentence that hurts to say out loud perhaps the most from the feelings freely roaming around your brain. “I don’t think it meant anything to him– I– I don’t think I meant anything to him.”

As if to torture yourself even more, the images of you two getting closer over the time flash through your brain– and you wonder if you were just lying to yourself the whole time. If his words weren’t what he made them out to be, if his gentle nature that overtook him when you were around was just him treating you as one of his friends. If he hooked up with you only because he was horny, and not because he cared for you enough to want to explore you further, deeper– if you were the only one in it for something more, if he was just keeping himself busy while trying to get over his ex.

And much like that time at the party, where he held you close and spent the whole night pretty much glued to your side, right in front of everyone’s eyes, you wonder if you just fulfilled your purpose in his life. 

“Shh,” the girl shushes you out of your self-destructive thoughts, still not getting any context on what happened, but being there for you anyway, “let’s just watch something, okay? We have the whole day off to ourselves, let’s watch this new anime I’ve been eyeing, what do you say?” she mumbles, seeing as you tiredly nod and she affectionately squishes your cheeks together, leading you towards the living room.

If you weren’t so numb right now, you’d even giggle. Jimin doesn’t watch anime– the amount of reality TV she watches is quite concerning sometimes– and her effort to aimlessly search through the internet for the first episode of an anime she randomly saw on Tiktok one day and thought would suit your watching style both amuses you and makes your heart warm just a little. Indulging in TV series is one of the only coping mechanisms either of you can ever come up with, it seems.

When the opening credits roll, you hear your phone’s notification sound pop up, your hand reaching for the device. You don’t even get an opportunity to look at who is texting you before your roommate snatches the phone out of your hand, swipes across the screen and turns it off with one swift motion, forcing you to focus on the animation going on the TV.

Sometimes, all you need is your caring roommate to take over everything. Today, more than ever, you’re more than willing to give yourself into her hands.

After that, you do what you think anyone in your situation would (or wouldn’t do, to be precise). You don’t text Huang Renjun random things throughout the day like you used to– you no longer laugh at weird memes he finds funny with him and you no longer read his texts that are full of random complaining, mostly about his roommate Donghyuck, throughout the day. You don’t meet him to work on the project together. It’s almost done and you still have time– you are planning on just finishing it by yourself and turning it in on the day it’s due, with no contact with the male. You also don’t call him when you’re walking home alone in the late hours of the evening, scared and yearning to find comfort in his saccharine words. You don’t even look at his messages– he sent you multiple– only letting yourself to check the contact name before you swipe the notification away without giving it much thought, making yourself ignore all of his calls the moment you hear your ringtone go off. Worst of all, you don’t even attend class anymore. You’re glad for the past you that managed to attend every single class, because now, you have more than enough absences to use up before the semester ends and you go on spring break.

You do everything in your power to erase him out of your life. It takes an admirable amount of self-control, you must admit.

And sometimes, it even feels silly. It feels stupid to react so much to seeing him with his ex girlfriend, because frankly, you two weren’t dating. No amount of touches, gentle words, hang-outs after the sun sets and intimacy means that you are a couple; it didn’t matter that you opened up to him so much when neither of you confirmed to this being inclusive. The day before you dyed his hair back, you two were just good friends, after all. Sex didn’t change anything– even though you thought it would. 

And maybe that’s what’s making you feel even more angstier about the whole thing. You gave him every last ounce of yourself you had, every inch of your body, from the inside out– so now, you feel thrown away, as if you were useless.

The cold nights slowly turn into warmer evenings, birds chirping outside waking you up in the mornings even more reminding you of the man you lost somewhere along the way. Spring was the favorite season of you both, but somewhere deep inside of you, you’re starting to dread it. Maybe it’s the fact that you were yearning for a new beginning for yourself in spring; for something to be born seemingly out of nothing– but it seems like you are supposed to bloom by yourself now, and you’re finding it harder than ever. 

It’s the beginning of the second week of March. Warm sunlight makes your feet spring up from your bed in the early morning, forcing you to take a walk. You’ve gotten used to going on these, as many call it, ‘mental health walks’ lately– you read on the internet that they help your mood, and even though it’s a slow progress, you’re willing to try anything, at this point. 

You chose a fixed destination you walk to every other day. It’s on the opposite side of the campus– where the Science buildings are– and you would be lying to yourself and everyone if you said you didn’t carefully craft the journey so you wouldn’t get in contact with the man you’ve been trying to avoid for the last two and a half weeks. It’s far away from your apartment, and even further away from his. There’s no reason for him to visit those parts of the campus, and you find comfort in the fact. 

Finding a bench under a cherry blossom tree– it’s slowly starting to wilt these days– you sit in silence for a while on some days, and on others, you put in your earphones and watch the world around you go by without you moving a single finger, trying to find comfort in the fact.

Listening to the playlist you made in the crack of dawn last night– Renjun always made fun of you for the fact that you once listed ‘making Spotify playlists’ as your hobby– you fall deep inside of your thoughts. When this happens, it’s hard to control your mind and think of something positive. The only thing left for you to do is to hope and pray you don’t spiral.

Why did it even matter so much to you anyway? It was just a kiss to his cheek. It’s not like you caught them in the act…

However, still, the image of them looking so comfortable together broke your heart; because somewhere along the way, you thought he’d always feel resentment towards the girl. She broke his trust, she made him feel worthless, and it was left for you to take all those broken pieces of him and glue them back together. You didn’t realize it back then, but just the fact that you didn’t give up on him back when he was being difficult was enough for the boy to feel at least a little better again. Your nagging, yet silent acts of meeting him somewhere in the middle, even on his worst days, was a source of comfort for him. And after a while, you started noticing that– you started noticing him warming up to you every time you met, you started noticing his gratitude towards you in the little acts of service he brought with himself when he bought you snacks or texted you if you came home safely after your meetings. 

You guess that seeing Yunjin talking so freely with him, seeing her kiss his cheek with such tenderness, made you feel so deeply, easily replaceable in his life. You guess you always feel like that with everyone anyway. It’s a bad habit you find hard to break– maybe you too, just need someone to be patient with you while you heal.

“What are you listening to?” you hear a voice, tone close to honey, ask from the place next to you. It makes you jump in terror, both from recognising it so easily and from not expecting him to find you here, so far away from everything, as you look at him with surprised eyes.

You don’t know what it is that keeps you silent. Perhaps it’s surprise. Perhaps it’s pettiness. Perhaps it’s shame. 

The feeling makes you stiff in silence, everything in you refusing to respond to his sudden casualty. “Okay, I’ll just stalk your listening activity on Spotify when I come home again, then,” he shrugs, his uninhibited demeanor making you boil inside. You feel like your insides are on fire, you feel like the whole world came crashing down on you because of mere seconds of seeing him with someone that he once held so dear to his heart, making you  feel replaced and forgotten, and yet, he comes to you so easily and doesn’t even acknowledge your hurt?

“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice soulless as you turn your music off and put your tangled earphones into your jacket pocket, finally choosing to recognise his presence. 

“Talking to you,” he shrugs, “I… brought you coffee,” he smiles, showing you the Starbucks take-out cardboard holding two drinks together, one iced americano and one caramel latte, the sight making your heart warm up quite dangerously at the thought that after all this time, he got your coffee order down, he noticed you sweetening your drinks, and he remembered.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you scoff. “How did you know I’d be here?”

The man shrugs. “I didn’t, at first. I… I came to your apartment to talk to you, but Jimin said you weren’t home, so after a few minutes of begging her to tell me where I could find you, she gave up and sent me here.”

You guess you’ll have to have a serious talk with your roommate when you come home.

“Why… why are you here, then?” you ask, still feeling the bitter pettines on your tongue when the words escape your mouth.

“Well,” he starts, taking a deep breath in, collecting his thoughts, “at first I thought I’d give you space. I thought you didn’t want to talk with anyone and you kept ignoring my texts and calls, so I texted Jimin to ask if you were okay, and when she told me you were doing fine, I figured it had to do something with me. And then– and then I thought I’d give you some space, since you looked like you needed some, but… but I think I need to face the problem now, since it’s clearly… something big, you know…” 

It’s undeniable that Huang Renjun is quite the smart individual. His ability to instantly sense your emotions and decipher the meaning behind them never fails to catch you off guard, though.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you suddenly notice the nerves he tried to mask by fake casualty. He keeps chewing on his bottom lip and he’s picking at his cuticles so hard you think they’ll bleed at any minute, his frame small and hesitant as he turns away from you, afraid to meet your eyes. He looks so, so guilty, and you suddenly feel stupid for making such a big deal out of something that shouldn’t have mattered to you in the first place.

“What… What did I do to hurt you?” he asks, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Because you must be hurt, if you’re avoiding me this much.”

Taking a deep breath in, you shake your head at the whole situation. He’s right, though– perhaps it’s time to finally face your problems now, so you can move on. Maybe this closure is what you need, maybe you need to hear it from him– to hear that it didn’t mean anything to him, to hear that Yunjin apologized and he’s gonna get back together with her, because somehow, your brain convinced you this was the case– to finally let him go and stop mourning something that was never there in the first place. “I–” 

Your words fail you.

“Do you… regret it?” he asks, voice so small you almost don’t hear him. 

The sentence takes you off guard. Looking at him, you can’t even bring yourself to speak, confused eyes roaming over his tense features. Opening up your mouth to ask for clarification, he mumbles again before you get a chance to speak. “Do you regret sleeping with me?”

Blinking at him a few times, a crease appearing in between your eyebrows, you shake your head. Is this really what was running through his brain? Is this why he left you alone for more than two weeks? Because suddenly, it makes sense– the way he gave you space and let you avoid him for two weeks before he came to find you in person– but again, this is not at all what was running through your brain all these days. Never once did you regret what you two did, no matter how shitty you’re feeling about it now after your brain convinced you of things that weren’t even real in the first place. “No,” you simply say.

A hint of relief washes over his face, his shoulders relaxing just the tiniest bit– it looks like this was what he’s been scared of the most; it looks like he feared he hurt you in this way. Still, he insists on talking it out once and for all. “What is it, then?”

Shameful to meet his eyes, you point your gaze towards your feet. Convincing yourself that your feelings are valid and that you were right to feel the way you do, the same way you did to him all those weeks ago at the stairs in front of the university building, you confess to your worries. “I saw you with Yunjin the other day.”

Now it’s his time to stay silent, and somehow, your brain can’t find a way to deal with not getting a response from him, so you ramble to cope. “At the cafeteria, I mean. I– I wanted to surprise you, and you said you were getting lunch alone and I was at the campus, so I thought I’d come to keep you company, but then… then I saw you with her, and you two seemed so comfortable together, so close, and then she kissed your cheek and it made me… it made me feel like… like you maybe wanted to get back together with her, or something…?”

“And really, it’s fine, if you want to do that, I guess I just… for the sake of both of us, or maybe just me, I think… I think it’s better for me to keep my distance from you, then.”

Watching as his expression shifts to one full of disbelief, you swear that what you want the most in this moment is to disappear. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me those past two weeks?” he asks.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, suddenly feeling insanely silly and unreasonable when you say all of those things out loud, you avert your gaze from him, pointing it somewhere into the distance. 

“Is this really it?” he asks again, insisting, full of disbelief. “You made me feel like you regretted having sex with me, and this is it?” he chuckles, and you don’t know if it’s because he’s looking down on you, or if he just truly finds the situation funny. 

“Look, I–” 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gets out, looking as if every nerve and stress in his body finally let go, relief washing over his face like waterfalls, “I was so scared, and this is what’s been bugging you?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief as he runs his hands through his hair. “She came to apologize to me. Not that it mattered something to me, and not that it made any difference, but I didn’t have it in me to tell her to fuck herself, you know? That’s what you saw. She told me she wishes me well and that she hopes I find joy in someone else too. She didn’t even– she didn’t even sit with me at lunch. She went to eat with her boyfriend.”

And here it is– the inevitable notion of shame intensifies. Finally having the explanation you’ve been wanting to hear, but purposefully avoiding for two weeks; finally feeling relief in your chest, your worries escaping out like the summer wind, and even though you should be happy, you can’t even bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“No, I mean– it’s just… I’m sorry too, it’s just…” he trails off, making you look at him with examining eyes, eyebrows raised in question. You don’t really know what he’s apologizing for. Maybe for leaving you space even though he was convinced that’s what you needed– had he approached you earlier, you wouldn’t have to avoid him for two weeks.

“It’s just…?”

“I find it ironic how you thought I wanted to get back together with her, when in reality… you were the one I wanted to get together with in the first place, you know?” he asks, and if you squint hard enough, you could still see hints of nervousness in his body when he asks the rhetorical question, soft eyes scanning your face when your eyes meet.

“Oh,” you hum, mouth agape in surprise.

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pressed into a thin line, “cause I like you… like, a lot, actually, so…” he mumbles, the confession reminding you of your first weeks with Renjun– tense and awkward, but with a promise of something new the more you got to know him.

“Oh,” you repeat again, your brain still not catching up to the situation.

Suddenly, the two weeks of avoidance feel even more silly. You don’t know what happened in you to cause this much distress for the both of you, but you’re filled with delight with the fact that even though you expected him to get mad at you– to call you unreasonable, maybe even a little stupid– he seems to be understanding of your emotions. He seems to accept them, willing to put up with them and everything that requires of him; he seems to be willing to find you even at the end of the world and try to get you back into his life. Because only god knows how much he appreciates your presence in it. 

“So…” he mumbles, a silent question hanging in the air, making you realize you were too caught up in your thoughts to really give him an answer.

“I… I like you too, if that… wasn’t obvious,” you snicker, shrugging as a wide smile spreads across your cheeks. The words fall a little bashfully off your tongue, the confession ringing strangely in your ears, but you don’t mind the little uncomfort the shyness in your demeanor brings you.

There are no long confessions, no deep words of love. Once again, Huang Renjun is a man of few words– he shows you his care through actions. 

He finds you when you’re avoiding him. He makes sure you get home safe. He tries hard to work with you on a project he originally wanted to avoid, only because he notices you finding interest in it, your passion slowly sparking up his. 

He keeps annoying the publicist of your favorite author for a week straight to let you make an interview with her, even though he got declined twice over an email with messages filled with bitter and annoyed words. He remembers your coffee order and he invites you to hang out with his friends to show you that you are now a part of his circle, that you are one of his close ones. He lets you make fun of him with your roommate, but doesn’t give you the same treatment he gives Donghyuck when he tries to bully him. He sends you all the cat pictures he gets from his friend Taeyong, sometimes even asking for some when he hasn’t sent you ones in too long, and he also thinks of you any time he sees the snow– because he gets reminded of the walk you two had in the midst of the snowflakes, even though you hate the cold. 

He reads your favorite book and finds pieces of you scattered all across the pages, he feels his love for you in the poetic words and metaphors hidden in the plot. He lets you dye his hair to signify that a part of his life is now over and a new one started– with you being the main actor of the subtle metamorphosis as he slowly shifts back into his old self, yet now a little wiser. 

He is a man of few words, affection coating them only sometimes, when he reassures you over a mug of hot tea in the evenings before you present your assignments in class and when you get too scared of crowded places; but somehow, the words he keeps to himself translate to you despite not being spoken.

In the beams of the warm sun, you gravitate to him like you’re two planets in the solar system, always sharing the same space. And when his smile meets yours in another kiss, you think that after all, you get the kind of new beginning you wanted in spring.

You and Huang Renjun may be the prime example that love, just like cherry blossoms, always blooms in patience. 

JOSHUA WITH BLACK HAIR — requested by anon !

Sentinel's Serenade | c.sc

pairing ➳ bodyguard!Scoups x heiress!reader

genre ➳ drama, angst, romance, smut.

word count ➳ 29.5k (i'm sorry)

warnings ➳ car crash, ptsd, flashbacks of war, panic attack, murder, violence, guns, blood, death, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, female oral, arguments, coups is an a-hole but he has reasons, he was also in the military, Jun is a bad guy here(im sorry), jihoon blesses us with his special appearance.

synopsis ➳ As you start digging up an accident that has been brushed under the rug, you make an enemy who is out to get you no matter what. Amidst all the chaos you develop feelings for your bodyguard who has built walls of steel around him.

"This is your new bodyguard, Seungcheol." 

Your head tilts upward, as you scan the man standing in front of you with careful eyes. He's tall and broad; exactly how you'd imagine a bodyguard to be, along with an emptiness in his eyes, so cold and robotic that would only be achievable after being through some heavy shit, you assume. Your father continues listing off his certifications and qualities but your brain doesn't capture much after hearing that he can speak sign language and is an ex navy SEAL; too busy getting distracted with his handsome features and dissecting him as much as you can just from looking.

The man isn't handsome in the typical sense, definitely not the handsome you're used to seeing in magazine covers and charity galas. No, he's ruggedly handsome, shielding himself with a tough exterior, his thick brows knotted in a frown and his full, red lips set in a grim line, blond hair brushed back neatly. 

With the way he looks in that expensive suit hugging his body, he could pass as a business tycoon but his aura is completely different; alert, strict, impenetrable.

His hand reaches out for yours to meet in a handshake after your father is done introducing him. You watch his extended hand for a while, observing little scratches and cuts that seem to still be healing on his knuckles before meeting his hand. As expected, his palms are calloused but cool. His grip is firm, just like the look in his dark eyes and for some unknown reason tingles shoot down your spine.

"Choi Seungcheol, ma'am." His voice has a deep timbre to it. It'd be perfect for audiobooks, you muse idly.  "He is to be with you whenever you are going outside till the foreseeable future." Your father states. There isn't much room for arguments here and you aren't too bothered having a shadow because this isn't the first time. 

You had a personal bodyguard six months ago and the man sustained a serious hip injury due to...circumstances involving you. Now that you are back and ready to face the world, you know that keeping a personal bodyguard is a wise decision, even if your father may have assigned him with ulterior motives. 

It's okay, the games are just beginning and you are playing for the long haul.

—

"Met your new guard on the way. Guy's a robot." Chan says as he strolls into the library with his hands in his pockets. You assume he's talking about Seungcheol, who is currently stationed outside the library room even though you told him to take a break.

A copy of Jane Eyre sits open on your lap as you look up to meet Chan's eyes. Offering him a small smile, you motion him to sit next to you. Your younger brother had been out of the country due to business for the past few weeks so it has been a while since you last saw him.

"So you are really going back to work?" He asks, a soft, concerning note to his voice as he sits down next to you on the divan. You sigh and give him an exasperated look. 

"I'm more than ready. Sitting idle hasn't done me much good." You sign. 

His eyes watch the movements of your hands before he murmurs, "It will be tough, you know... without your... voice. I don't want you to get into any trouble, especially after everything."

"I'll manage." You sign. You will. 

It has been six long months since the accident. Six months since you lost your mother. Six months since you have last uttered a word. Six months since you have been at work.

Six months since your life has completely been turned upside down. 

You have been thrown entirely off track, the reigns of your horse being snatched away by a dark force plotting far worse things.  But you will uncover them. No matter how long or what it takes. 

"Dad thinks you're not ready yet," Chan comments, breaking your train of thought. 

You huff out an annoyed breath. 

"I don't really care what he thinks you know," you sign and your brother snorts, looking at you with a fond, amused expression. "It will be hard." He says absent-mindedly. "To adjust back to everything."

You nod because you know it will be. You have already heard the board members express their dissatisfaction over you returning as the CEO. Lee publishing has been in its prime since last year and they're afraid it's gonna lose its position with a mute CEO. Funny how they forget you are the one who brought it to where it is today. Lee Publishings, your family's publishing company was handed over to you by your  grandfather. He started it from scratch and it became the first successful family business before he decided to hand it over to you when you became twenty. 

Your bond with your grandfather was always special, maybe because you both shared the same love for books and sense of humour. You grew up watching him read and collect books and naturally you picked up on that habit. As you grew up you watched him work closely, helping him wherever you could with the company which led him to hand it over to you. 

Not your father, your brother or any of your cousins but you.

He was lucky enough to watch you take on the role and make the company flourish for all three months before he passed away peacefully one night in his sleep. 

The feud began after that as your uncle, Jin Lee and your father started expressing their concerns, saying that you wouldn't be able to rule over the company well now that your grandfather wasn't here to guide you. While your uncle wanted the publishing house for himself and his useless son, Jun, your father wanted to hand the company over to Chan, believing that your brother would be a better president, and offering you the role of the vice president instead. It came to you without any surprise because your brother was always your father's favourite child.

You, however, had stood your ground and promptly refused, challenging them to try and take it from you. Thankfully, your brother was on your side, saying that it rightfully belonged to you and you were more than eligible to rule over it. Chan's disinterest may have backed off your father temporarily, you can tell, but your uncle is still desperate, now more than ever.

"You are going to move back to your place soon as well," Chan complains with a pout, breaking your train of thought. Giving him a sad smile you open your arms, inviting him for a hug which he gladly accepts. After one week of staying at the hospital and your mother's burial, you decided that you would stay at the mansion you grew up in, essentially your father's house, instead of your own apartment in the city, for the foreseeable future. This mansion held a lot of memories for you, especially with your mother. Breakfast in the garden, late night talks in the huge library and sipping on tea while watching the sunset together through the large window in the west wing.

You could never imagine a life without your mother yet here you are, living one. But it is time you slowly start going back to where you belong.

"It will be lonely here without you…and mom," Chan whispers.

You can only blink back your tears and hug him tighter.

—

Just on your fifth day back, you realise that things are not going to be anywhere near easy for you, not that you expected, but still.

The moment you get to work on Wednesday morning, there is a commotion outside the main entrance of the building which leads your driver to drop you and Seungcheol at the underground entrance. You are greeted by the bleak face of your secretary as you walk to your office, who announces that the vice president is there to see you. Once you enter your office, you indeed find vice president Jun, your dear cousin, sitting on your seat with the face of a cat who ate the canary.

Seungcheol, who is always trailing behind you like a shadow, moves— to drag him out of your seat no doubt, but you raise your hand as a gesture to tell him to stop.

"Good morning, Miss Lee. Though it doesn't look like a good morning for you," He grins, standing up and rounding the desk lazily while tilting his chin at the coffee table where the morning paper is lying. You pick it up and in bold letters on the front page, the headline greets you with: "President of Lee Publishings Accused of Employee Mistreatment."

It goes on and on about some bullshit of how you have been treating employees badly and holding their salary because you have apparently returned with a nasty temper as you can't speak anymore. You can't help but scoff, because the reality is far, far from what the paper says. 

Ever since you've been back at work, all you've ever done is stay inside your office and go through all the pending documents and close deals that were hanging. Your only human contact has been your secretary Hansol and your bodyguard, both of whom have more similarities to a wall than a human. Your previously bubbly secretary has turned awkward now, probably because you have lost your voice and holding a conversation with you proves to be hard. Seungcheol, on the other hand, is like a robot who stands by your door all day and only answers your questions as briefly as possible, most of the time with a yes or no.

Your hands form fists at your sides as you glare at Jun, who stands there, pridefully evil, watching you with a satisfied grin on his face. "Things are looking rather bleak for you," He tuts in mock sympathy as he strolls towards you, hands in his pockets. As he comes to stand right next to you, his hand reaches out for your shoulder to pat you but Seungcheol grabs his wrist and twists it, making him shriek in pain. 

"Fuck! Let go, you asshole!"

"You do not have permission to touch her," Seungcheol calmly states, still not letting go. You sigh and sign Seungcheol to kick him out, which he does immediately while your cousin screams in protest as you walk to your desk and sit down, rubbing your temples in frustration.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Seungcheol asks after closing the door behind him.

You watch him for a while, your mind running a mile a minute as you think of a thousand ways of payback. But then you remind yourself that you have to approach this calmly.  So you force a smile and sign. 

"Send my secretary in. —

A couple of days later, you are not pleasantly surprised to see your father waiting to greet you at the front of the house when you return from work.

Just as Seungcheol opens the car door for you to get out, your father marches towards you.

"What did you do, girl? I told you to stay put! Your uncle Jin is here to see you!" His tone is not friendly. In fact, you pick up heavy disappointment, which you expected. This was bound to happen after you fired your cousin Jun from his position today. 

You smile calmly at him before turning to Seungcheol and signalling to him that he is relieved of his duties. He looks at you warily and you have a feeling he wants to say no but he ultimately just nods and takes his leave, driving away the car to park.

"He's waiting for you in the backyard." Your father announces. As you start walking away he yells, "You better fix what you have done today! The company won't last if you keep on making hasty decisions like these!"

Deciding to ignore him you walk to the backyard with unfaltering steps and find your uncle standing there with arms crossed, feet tapping furiously. You approach him with a smile, not a friendly one but the subtle smile of challenge as he takes furious steps towards you when he sees you coming.

"You! What have you done, _____? You fired my son from his position!" He hollers, marching to stand in front of you, fury blazing vividly in his eyes. 

Silently, you hold eye contact with him.

"You think you can do as you please after you get into an accident and we'll just let you? Who do you think you are to fire my son?"

You smirk before producing your notepad from your bag and start scribbling.

"I'm the president of the company and based on our investigation your son was found guilty of spreading fake news about me mistreating my employees. The reporter who got paid to write it confessed himself."

You hold out the notepad for him to read.

"How dare you believe a lowly reporter over my son? Over your own cousin?" Your uncle is livid. "If you keep behaving like this then I'll retract all my assets shared with your father. You know I can take over the Lee Enterprises anytime if I want."

You roll your eyes. Yeah, do whatever you want.

You start writing down. "If you have nothing productive to say I suggest you leave now and have a chat with your precious son. I have had a long day."

As soon as he reads the words written on the paper he bats the notebook away from your hand, making you gasp. The look in his eyes is akin to a madman's as he takes a threatening step towards you and leans in to whisper in your ear. 

"If you don't want to end up like your mother I suggest you start behaving, ______." He sneers.

Your whole body freezes up like a block of ice as your breath catches in your lungs. Your uncle's eyes are cruel, threating, filled with a layer of secrets that you're desperate to uncover as he takes a step back. The look of panic on your face brings satisfaction to him as watches you for a few moments, letting his words sink in and challenging you to do something about it before he smirks and walks out of the backyard.

Your legs, which have been shaky until now finally give up and you fall on the perfectly trimmed grass, your breaths coming out in the form of pants. 

The horrible realisation sinks into you. 

Your suspicions were true. 

His words just confirmed that which means you need to up your game. Immediately.

You're surprised at how quickly, how easily you think of one person when you need someone to help you. 

Hands shaky, you type a message to Seungcheol.

— There's something different about Seungcheol the moment he arrives at your front gate in his BMW. As you watch him get out of the car and jog towards you, you realise it's his fit; he's not wearing his typical two piece suit. 

No, he's dressed in a fitted white polo and black slacks, the polo so tight that you can see the bulging outline of his chest and arms. Despite the negative thoughts brewing in your head you get distracted for a second as you ogle him unashamedly and take longer than you should to respond to his question. "Are you alright, ma'am? I wasn't expecting you to call so late."

You roll your eyes. It's only like eight in the evening. Though you can see why it was unexpected for him because he is relieved from duty as you get off work in the evening. Not replying to him, you tilt your head towards his car, indicating to him to open the passenger side door. He looks doubtful for a second before following your instructions.

"Where would you like me to take you?" Seungcheol asks once you're both inside the car and he has started the engine. You sigh and sign, "Somewhere far and quiet."

His thick brows knot into a frown as he thinks for a few seconds before simply nodding. Then, surprising you, he reaches over and pulls your seatbelt across your chest, which you just realised you forgot to put on. His being so close lets you get a really good sniff of his cologne and once again you get heavily distracted as you start wondering what he'd do if you leaned into his neck and wrapped your arms around him.

Where are these thoughts coming from? 

You have no idea. This is not the first time you've had them, though.

It is like this new disease you have caught. Your mind goes haywire whenever you look at Seungcheol for a second too long. The first time it happened was right after the rumour of employee mistreatment broke out and you were leaving from work. Even though you took the back exit through the underground parking, the press mobbed you, throwing a string of questions at you while their cameras kept flashing repeatedly.

Seungcheol, of course, managed everything very efficiently and got you away safely. The way his hand squeezed your shoulder, his face hovering near yours while he asked if you were okay was a feeling that has managed to stay with you very vividly even now. You were a bit spaced out but not for the reasons he was thinking; it was just that he looked too attractive and his touch felt too comforting, even though he was merely doing his job.

You are a tiny bit ashamed to admit that he has made your heart flutter since then, with every little thing he did. 

You don't get to dwell on your day dreams for too long because he's leaning back in his seat and pressing the accelerator, making you jerk softly.

A quiet thirty minutes of drive later you discover that Seungcheol has taken you to the beach right on the outskirts of the city. It isn't something you were expecting but you realise it is something you definitely need. 

As he parks the car on a small cliff overlooking the entire beach, you hear the soothing sounds of the wave crashing into the shore clearly. 

And it brings back vague memories of your childhood, when your mother took you to this beach because she loved the air here so much. As if in a trance, you get out of the car and stand by the cliff, letting the cool sea breeze wash over you as the salty smell in the air invades your nose. Your bodyguard stands by you silently for a while and without looking, you can tell that his eyes are on you, watching you carefully.

Sometime later, he breaks the peaceful silence, "Would like to eat something? There are a few food trucks nearby." He moves his head to motion at the food trucks parked far away, their lights blinking. Shaking your head no, you fill your lungs with the cool night air by taking one more deep breath before moving to the back of the car and leaning against the trunk. Seungcheol follows you as you pat the space next to you for him to come and stand. 

He does so and you let out a heavy breath before signing. "I need you to do something for me. Something that has to remain a secret."

Seungcheol raises his brows slightly before frowning. He doesn't reply immediately and you stand upright, holding eye contact with him. "It is very important to me, Seungcheol. I need to know if I can trust you to keep it a secret from everyone," you sign.

"Okay, ma'am." He finally responds. 

"Even from my father," you sign. "I know you're working for him but for this task, I will pay you separately so you will only answer to me about this, okay?"

"Okay ma'am."

"Good." You huff out a breath. "You are from a prominent security company, right? I need you to look into a man for me. Jin Lee."

"Your uncle?" He looks bewildered. "Yes. I need his whereabouts on 23rd March of this year. And I need to know who he contacted before this accident. Any call or bank transfer that seems remotely out of place, you look into it for me, okay?" He pauses for a breath before replying. "Okay, ma'am."

"Just call me ____, Seungcheol."

— On the weekend, you have lunch with Chan in the garden of the mansion, the place where you two had lunch with your mother, as he eagerly asks you about how you have been doing and assures you that he is here if you need anything. After lunch, you see him off for a meeting before aimlessly strolling through the hallways of your house by yourself.

The cleanup at your place has been completed so you are planning on moving back tomorrow and you realise it will be a while before you come back here. Through your walk, you come across a painting hanging on the large hallway towards your father's office that makes you stop to stare. 

It is a picture of your mother with you and Chan, taken when you were about twelve years old. It is your favourite picture in the entire house, maybe because you have a memory attached to it or maybe because it's simply magnificent, the three of your smiles shining so brightly.

It was a gift from your grandfather to your mother on her thirty seventh birthday and she had it hung here, right in front of a large set of windows that overlooks the garden. The afternoon sun falls right on the picture, casting it in an ethereal glow and it is almost like your mom is here, cheering you on with her beautiful smile.

With a soft sigh and tears withheld, you say goodbye to the picture and walk away. You are aiming to go straight to your room but the loud voices coming from your father's office makes you stop.

You realise the door is just slightly opened and you walk over to shut it but stop in your tracks when you hear your uncle's voice.

"You better get your daughter under control or it will not be good for you!" He is shouting.

"Are you threatening me?"

"I am warning you, brother."

"Jin, please, just let her be for a while. She has lost her voice. I am sure she will not be able to perform like before. Then you and the board can fire her."

You are somewhat hurt by your father's words but once again, they do not come to you as a surprise. "Exactly! Why should I let the company go to waste because of her poor performance? You tell her to fuck off or I will remove her myself!"

"Jin, please. You already got rid of Aileen. You do not have to go any further.

Your world has come to a stop.

You forget to breath, as you simply stand there, stunned, convinced that you heard wrong.

You had to have heard wrong.

"I got rid of her and I'll get rid of you too, if you don't listen to me! Don't forget I own the shares of the family hotel just as much as you do. It will not be a challenge to turn the board of directors against you. Imagine what will happen after that? Your most lucrative business will be completely mine and your dear son will become penniless."

There is no reply from your father. Or maybe there is but you do not hear it.

There is a deafening ring in yours ears as you muffle your sobs by clutching your mouth tightly and making a beeline for your room.

You cannot believe this. You absolutely can not. It is something you could not have imagined even in your wildest nightmare. Your father knows your uncle killed your mom, yet he is staying silent. Why? Why!

Granted, your parents were never happily married and growing up you have heard that your father has mistresses. It never bothered your mother because their marriage was only a business agreement in the very first place and she had all her attention focused on you and Chan. But to think that he is letting her killer walk free is unbelievable.

After all he lived with her, his wife, the mother of his children for so many goddamn years!

By the time you have entered your room, you are full on crying, ugly and loud. Tears are blurring your vision as you flail around the room, helplessly, aimlessly, devastatedly. 

And before you know it, you are throwing the thousand dollar porcelain vase by your bedside to the ground.

The piece shatters into bits and the sound oddly satisfies you, prompting you to throw another one. And for the next few minutes you throw anything you can find in your room, not caring how valuable they are, not caring that a shard of glass has ripped the skin below your left thumb, making you bleed.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck all of you!" You yell at the top of your lungs, not caring to keep up the facade anymore.

Once you have run out of energy, you stop to look at the mess you made, glad that the messy room and the pain from the cut on your hand makes your mind go blank for a while.

But you do not miss the small, almost inaudible creak of the door to your room. Your head whips into the direction to see none other than Seungcheol, standing right out front, his eyes wide and his lips parted in a small gasp of surprise. 

You forget to breathe as you realise he might have been standing there for a while and he witnessed everything. 

Everything.

He knows your secret.  He knows that you are not mute. Before you know it, your feet are moving as you push open the door and yank your bodyguard into your room, not before glancing left and right down the hallway to check anyone's presence.

As soon as you lock the door, you press him against it and lean on your tiptoes, inching your face closer to him as you whisper, "Keep. This. A. Secret."

You had meant for the words to come out threatening but your tear stained eyes and cracking voice doesn't help establish that image.

Seungcheol stares at you with a gaze you are quite unable to decipher. His eyes are soft, full of wonder and you think you can almost spot admiration and something more in them and for a moment, you find yourself lost in the sea of his gaze. 

"______". He calls your name softly. His hands come to your upper arms to hold you gently as he puts some distance between the two of you before ushering you towards your bed and making you sit down. "Your secret is safe with me," he confirms as he sits next to you. "But I am glad you can speak again." He murmurs, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he looks around the room you just trashed.

You let out half a sigh of relief, knowing that your secret is safe and you find yourself speaking before you can even think. "I got my voice back quite a while ago. Two months after the accident, actually." Seungcheol's head whips towards you, his eyes widening in surprise.

"My uncle seemed very happy when I lost my voice and he was being weirdly nice to me. I already had my suspicions that the accident was an inside job so I pretended to act mute." You whisper, eyes trained on the floor.

How right you were!

It was an inside job but it had its roots spread out much farther than you thought. Your uncle killed your mother while your father sits there in silence despite knowing that!

The thought makes you shake your head as a dry, mirthless laughter wrings out of your throat. Your head falls back as you laugh like a mad woman as Seungcheol watches you, absolutely perplexed.

He gently tries calling your name. "______—"

"My father knew!" You are yelling between laughter. "He fucking knew!"

The poor man only looks more confused.

"He knew— he… he knows my uncle killed my mom but he is staying silent! He said it himself! I heard him! Do you understand, Seungcheol, my father is turning a blind eye! He is choosing to save his fucking business over me, over his children!"

Seungcheol looks absolutely baffled upon hearing your words as he falls silent with a bleak expression. He does not have the adequate words to respond to that and he simply does not know what he can do at this point to make you feel better.  However, he takes notice of the cut below your thumb and reaches for your hand, setting it down on his thigh while he takes out a handkerchief and gently ties it around the injury. "You hurt yourself," he states quietly, almost to himself before meeting your eyes. "I know what you heard was painful but you need to take care of yourself. For your mother, at least."

And the damn breaks.

You break into a full on sob as you wrap your hands around his large shoulders, molding yourself against him as you cry unceremoniously in his chest. Seungcheol's arms wrap around your body in an effortless blanket of security as he rests his chin on top of your head and strokes your head while you try to burrow yourself deeper into his chest. 

It takes a while for the messy array of tears to subside and once you have calmed down a little, you take notice of his white shirt which is now completely wet where you rested your face. "I'm sorry," you croak weakly, trying to pull away but he holds you by the arms and makes you face him by tilting your chin with his finger.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, okay? Now tell me what I can do to make this a little better. Just so you know, my team is almost done digging up about your uncle. We should have a solid update tomorrow."

A small sob of gratitude and relief escapes your throat and Seungcheol immediately shushes you, his eyes helplessly searching for yours. "C-can you please ask them to look into my dad as well," you hiccup, saying the words you never imagined would come out of your mouth. "I need to know his whereabouts before the accident."

Seungcheol assures you with a nod while his hand strokes your back soothingly. Exhaling a loud, defeated sigh, you wipe your tears and mutter. "Please help me pack my bags, Seungcheol. I am moving back to my place. Tonight. I cannot stay here a second longer."

The man looks like he wants to protest but goes against it and simply nods, getting up to retrieve your bags from your closet.

After hastily packing your belongings you waste no time to march out of the house with Seungcheol trailing behind you. You leave a note on the kitchen, simply saying something came up and you had to leave early.

You are extremely grateful that you do not come across your father because one look at him and the ticking time bomb inside you would explode and you definitely cause a scene.

As the night grows deeper slowly, you isolate yourself in your room once you come back to your apartment. Despite Seungcheol's insistence, you tell him to call it a day and lock yourself up in your room, throwing yourself a pity party. It has been a while since you had such a restless night— the last one being after the accident, and it takes a long long time for sleep to come.

When your eyes finally fall shut, hues of orange and blue have already grazed the sky. 

—

You do not feel like your best self in the morning but the news Seungcheol brings is enough to get you back on track. 

The manila file sitting on your desk is a gold mine, it's contents spread throughout the surface as you sit in silence, hands linked together under your chin, your brain finally connecting the pieces together.

Seungcheol's friends found a shady bank transfer made by your uncle, two weeks before the accident. The tip led them to an old gang who, after applying some tactics, admitted to taking money from Jin Lee in order to commit a hit and run. After digging around some more they found papers that now lie on your table, a clear proof of your uncle's deal with the gang, which they kept as insurance. Among the documents, one particularly catches your eye.

It is the information of the driver of the truck that hit your car. 

The picture is like a jolt of electricity through your system as you are immediately taken back to the scene of the crash, the moments after where you were hovering over the brink of consciousness. You remember seeing a man peeking into your wrecked car, a man with a scar on his left cheek and all this time you could not fully believe that to be real.

But it was.  You did not imagine it. The picture on the document is that of the driver you saw that morning, the man with a scar on his left cheek, his eyes dark and blank, his lips twisted in a line of malice.

"_____?" Seungcheol's gentle voice guides you out of your head. "My friend had his confession recorded. Would you like to hear it?"

"Of course."

"I need to warn you…it is pretty detailed. About the accident, you know." He looks guilty, even though he has no reason to be.

You swallow a lump in your throat as your heart beat picks up. Are you really ready to revisit that morning? Relive all those feelings?

You have to.

Seungcheol pushes a voice recorder towards you on the table, pressing a button to turn it on.

"I was told that there would be only a girl and her bodyguard in the car! I swear I didn't know her mother would be there as well! I did not mean to kill the woman! After I hit the car, I went to check and…and the older woman was dead! The girl looked barely alive and I didn't think she would survive…."

There is a buzzing sound in your ears. It is deafening.

You are transported to a void where these words keep repeating and repeating, pulling you down, sucking you deeper into a pit of despair.  It hurts so much you are sure death would be easier.

Your head hangs low, silent tears trailing down your cheek as you stare at your lap. Seungcheol calls your name multiple times, asking if you are okay but you cannot bring yourself to form a reply.

The pain, the guilt, the shame, the anger— everything is overwhelming. These feelings consume you whole and dry you out until you are left with an unbelievable urge to scream and holler and cry. 

"______, please, can you hear me?" Seungcheol's touch on your shoulder makes you jolt. You look up to find him standing next to you, eyes glazed with concern as he peers down at you.

"I am fine," you reply after taking a shaky breath.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should call it day—"

"Seungcheol?" You interrupt him. You wipe the tears clean and sit up straight. "Can you call my lawyer? I need him here as soon as possible."

—

Bad news awaits you the next day when you return home from work. 

As usual Seungcheol walks you to the door of your apartment but you realise something is up when he abruptly stops after stepping out of the elevator and turning towards the door to your place. Following his line of sight you realise he has taken notice of the slightly open front door to your house. 

Your heart drops as a small gasp leaves your lips.

Someone broke into your place. And it does not take a genius to guess who Plus it also confirms that your uncle has found out you have been snooping around. A calm man like him does not make a move unless things are really dire and this proves that he is desperate to get that evidence out of your hands.

Seungcheol tenses up beside you and uses a hand to push you behind his body in a protective manner as he steps closer to the door. With the other hand he pulls out his revolver, holding it out and pointing it straight.

"S-Seungcheol—" You start panicking.

He shushes you before you can say much, eyes trained forward as he takes measured steps. Swallowing the bubble of fear, you hold his back as you follow him into your apartment. 

The storeroom which is right on the left after entering is the first place Seungcheol checks, and when he finds it clear he pushes you inside haphazardly.

"Don't come out until I get you." He commands, shutting the door on your face and clicking the lock before you can even process anything. Baffled, you stand still inside the dimly lit room, carefully listening for any sounds, while a thousand different thoughts run through your head.  This building is one of the most secure residential buildings in the city and breaking in here is quite literally impossible. Which means it is clear your uncle bribed someone on the inside and the realisation of how scary things are getting dawns on you, making you chew nervously on your lower lip as you start to grow restless.

Thankfully, a quick while later Seungcheol opens the door, a wary look on his face and you can immediately tell something is wrong. As soon as the door opens, you push past him and head for your bedroom, only to find the place absolutely trashed. Everything is a mess; from your bed to your closet to your dresser and it is evident that someone took their sweet time to comb through every one of your possessions and as you take in the havoc, the last of your doubts go away.

They were undoubtedly looking for the documents and the recorder. 

Your hands fist at your sides as tears of anger and frustration gather at the corners of your eyes. It only amplifies when you see one of your most precious belongings lying face down on the floor— a picture of you and your mother taken on your eighteenth birthday. 

Immediately you kneel and pick the frame up only to find it broken, making you heave out a helpless cry of anger. As you clutch it to your chest, your eyes scan the mess around you and a sense of doom settles in your gut. So this is what your life has come to now.

"Come. You're not staying here." Seungcheol's quiet command disrupts your thoughts.

"W-what? What do you mean? Where am I gonna go?" You scramble to stand up.

"At my place. This place isn't safe, _____." He pins you down with a serious look. "Pack your essentials and I mean absolute essentials. Your passport and any important papers."

"Wait, I—"

"Now." He commands. "I am gonna make some calls to find out who did this. Be ready in ten." He is walking out of the room while dialling a number, leaving you flabbergasted.

A while later you sit on the passenger's seat next to Seungcheol as he pulls the car out of your underground parking and onto the busy street, eyes focused on the road in silence. The only sound surrounding you is the sound of the bustling city and it isn't enough to ease the thick tension in the car. Seungcheol's jaw is clenched and his lips are pressed into a thin line as you observe him while he stares straight ahead. "What do we do after going to your place? I can't just hide forever." You break the silence with your words, your eyes trained out the window. It looks like it's going to rain.

"You'll stay in my place until the threat is removed. I'll soon receive the CCTV footage and from there on we can track down who ordered to invade your home." He declares.

"It was my uncle." You say without much thought.

Seungcheol turns to look at you for a beat before focusing on the road again. "You sound sure." He murmurs.

"Who else would it be then? He is after the evidence." You reply. Seungcheol remains silent for a beat before agreeing with a hum. Another silence follows after that. You take occasional, shy glances at him while he drives and when the car stops at a red light in an intersection, you call for him, making him turn his head to look at you. "Seungcheol?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For today."

He stares at you quietly, not blinking. "I just did my job."

"No, you are doing a lot more. You are helping me out in so many ways and I can only keep myself together thanks to you."

He only stares more at you. His gaze is intense and his eyes are hypnotic; if you stare too long it unnerves you, dissects you open. "You will be fine, _____." He replies after a long pause. "With or without me."

His words trigger you. 

With or without me?

You want to yell that he has to stick around however long you want him to but his cold demeanour makes your thoughts appear silly, even to yourself.  You are clearly looking for something more, much more than he wants to give you.  You know he would probably burn the world for you, not because he loves you but because he is a loyal person and probably because he pities you. 

Just a little bit. And you accept that. — Seungcheol's place is a canvas of grey and black and white. It is minimalistic and clean, a one bedroom apartment on the tenth floor in a quieter part of the city. As he walks you through his humble abode, he gives directions on where everything is and finally opens the door to his bedroom, leading you in before announcing. "You take the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa."

You do not protest because you know he would never listen. Instead, you almost ask him to share the bed with you but prevent going with it because you cannot trust yourself to remain professional while he sleeps so close to you with that tempting body of his.

"I'll leave you to rest. I'm going for a grocery run. Do not open the door for anyone but me. If there is any problem, call me." He uses his no nonsense tone and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

"Okay, okay." You watch him leave before shutting the bedroom door and sitting down on the floor, letting out a deep breath, one you've been unconsciously holding for a while.

As you watch the orange sky from the large window of Seungcheol's bedroom, the events of the last forty eight hours wash over you. You can't help but admire yourself at how calm you are. You woke up feeling numb today and you've been functioning on autopilot the whole day. Seeing your place ransacked did evoke some emotion within you but then again, deep down you were expecting something like this to happen once you had the evidence. 

You're running on pure adrenaline and you know you cannot stop until you have put your dear uncle behind bars. 

And maybe, even your father. 

He's an accomplice, no? He knows very well who killed his wife yet he decides to keep quiet, which makes him more vile to you. You find more hatred towards your father brimming within you, than towards your uncle. Yes, you expected him to play unfair but your own father knowing the culprit of your mother's death and simply burying it under the rug?  That, you absolutely cannot tolerate. 

A number of different scenarios run through your head on how you can bring them down. Despite having this irresistible urge to just run to the police with the recorder, you remember your lawyer's words.

It won't be enough. 

A few documents and a tape of confession are not enough to bring a man like Jin down. He has very strong connections with law enforcement and an even stronger set of lawyers. You need a solid witness. You need to catch him red handed. You need to create a scandal he can't recover from. You need to gather more proof. Proof so irrefutable, that his entire empire comes crashing down. 

And good for you, your uncle has already started setting up his doom. Trashing your place was his first mistake, the first piece of the domino. Now, it is a matter of time until everything collapses. You pray he will keep on making more mistakes. 

In fact, you know he will. He will do anything to get his hands on the evidence and you will stack all his actions against him at court. And when the time comes for the nail to hit the head…

You're going to be the bait. —

Somewhere in the middle of the night, you wake up from your sleep. Falling asleep came to you easily after eating the dinner Seungcheol cooked and then curling up in his bed where the sheets smelled subtly like him. It led you to have the best sleep you had in a while but now that you are awake, there is an itch in your throat, making it dry. 

So, quietly, you get up from bed and walk to the kitchen, a small light in the hallway guiding you to find a glass and pour yourself some water. 

As you sit on one of the breakfast stools and gulp it down, you watch Seungcheol sleeping on the sofa. The blanket that was probably on top of him once has fallen on the floor, the small space clearly not sufficient for his large frame as almost half of his body hangs out of the sofa. You almost feel bad for him and wonder how he can sleep in such a tiny space but it is pointless to feel guilty. He would never take the bed, no matter how much you offered.

As you take the last few sips of your water, you catch the moonlight draping over half of his face, casting it in an ethereal glow. It's stunning how beautiful he is. His usual stoic face is now relaxed, his full brows not knotted in a frown, his long eyelashes resting against his cheek, his plump full lips parted just a tiny bit. 

Unashamedly, for the nth time, you find yourself wondering how it'd be like to kiss him. You can't remember the last time a man made you feel like this, if ever. Your relationship with him should be strictly professional yet as you spend more time with him your mind keeps on entering forbidden territories.  Which is sad because you know he feels nowhere near that for you. Maybe he even has a girlfriend, or a wife— though you see no ring in his finger. Maybe a divorced wife with whom he parted ways begrudgingly, someone who still haunts his dreams. 

As you conjure up various scenarios of his relationship status, Seungcheol stirs in his sleep before a quiet groan escapes his lips.

You crane your head to take a better look at him, to see if he's awake but you soon realise he isn't as another pained groan leaves his lips, his large body shuffling in the congested space.

Is he having a nightmare?

You immediately get up and dash towards him, turning a light on the way and kneeling right beside the sofa. There's a light sheen of sweat coating his face and his eyebrows are marred in a frown as his eyes remain squeezed shut, his body writhing desperately "Seungcheol? Seungcheol!" You yell, grabbing his shoulders and trying your best to shake him out of whatever that's haunting him.

"No! No! Please, no!" The pain and helplessness in his voice halts your breath as you continue to shake him awake while his hands come to grab your arms in a tight hold, almost like an anchor. His grip only grows stronger as he yells in protest and you try your very best to wake him up once more. "Seungcheol! Please! Wake up! It's a nightmare!"

A set of blown out pupils look at you the next moment, and in a moment of silence a small shaky breath leaving his lips before they part slightly in shock. Then, before you know it, you are falling on your ass as Seungcheol shoves you away and scrambles to the farthest corner of the sofa. 

Even though your ass hurts, you know it was an unintended reaction. You whisper in a voice so soft as if you're talking to a wounded animal, "Seungcheol, it's okay. You're safe. You were having a nightmare."

The man sits still, hugging his knees as he still tries to catch his breath, a horrified look on his face. Not being able to bear it anymore, you immediately move to him and even though he flinches and tries to move away at first, he gives in when you wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

Soon he's burying his face on your neck as his large body curls around you, his hands gripping your night shirt tightly as if he's trying to mould himself into you. You feel his harsh pants on your shoulder so you try your best to soothe him, rubbing his back in repeated motions while whispering words of solace.

"It's alright, Seungcheol. I'm here. I have got you. It was just a bad dream."

You don't know how long you hold him like that but it seems to be a while, which feels too soon to you because Seungcheol pulls away from your arms before scooting away, putting a little distance between the two of you. He doesn't meet your eyes as he sighs, annoyed and dejected, while rubbing his temples.  "Are you okay? Would you like some water?" You offer. He shakes his head, looking down, his usual stoic mask settling back onto his face. 

"Why are you up?" He asks, his tone somewhat snappy. You frown. "I got out of bed to get a glass of water. You were having a nightmare, Seungcheol. Are you sure—"

"It's fine. It happens."

You are stunned at his lack of care. Is this a daily occurrence? Does he wake up every night, alone and screaming from his nightmares? Why is he allowing this to happen? Does he have someone to talk to? You want to ask all these questions but then decide against it due to the situation. Instead, you shuffle a little closer to him and start fixing his messy hair with a soft touch.

Seungcheol completely freezes at first and you expect him to bat your hand away but he doesn't. So you bite your lip to hide your smile as you finish fixing his hair before wiping the sweat off his brow. 

But you don't get to go far with that because Seungcheol grabs your wrist in a gentle hold, stopping you. His eyes scan over the length of your arms before he meets your eye. "Are you okay? I hurt you, didn't I?"

You simply shake your head and offer him a small smile which doesn't seem to convince him. His brows frown once again as you see him start overthinking so you put a stop to them. "I'm fine, Seungcheol, really. If you should be worried about anything, it is yourself. You're not on duty right now, you know. You can relax. I'm not a priority now." His eyes bore into yours and for a moment you see something foreign in his eyes. Something akin to vulnerability, longing, maybe even desperation.

"Go back to sleep, ____." His voice is gruff. "You've had a long day."

You want to protest but decided not to as huff out a breath and cast one more longing glance at him, hoping that maybe he would change his mind, before retreating to your room.

— It's ten o'clock when you wake up. 

Your first thought is that you are late for work, which makes you sit right up, ready to bolt out of bed but the next moment you realise it's a Saturday.  And you are not at home. You are at Seungcheol's place.

So you take your sweet time leaving the bed and freshening up, shuffling through Seungcheol's products in the bathroom. You also sneak in a sniff of his aftershave and cologne, smiling at yourself at your perverseness.

When you step out of your room, you find Seungcheol sitting on one of the breakfast stools, going through some documents with rapt attention. You stand by your door frame for a while, admiring his built frame from behind, his large back muscles and shoulders stretched beneath a white tee but you don't get to stare at him too long because his head turns around and catches you in the act.

"Good morning, _____." He greets.

You clear your throat, shuffling to the kitchen counter and pour yourself a glass of water, pretending as if he didn't just catch you eye fucking him. "Good morning, Seungcheol." Your voice is soft.

"Would you like to have breakfast now? I can make you some toast and omelette." He kindly offers. "There's also cereal if you want."

"I think I'll go with the cereal," You murmur, taking a seat opposite to him. You haven't had much of an appetite for the past few days which isn't really a surprise considering the situation.  Seungcheol goes back to scanning the documents in front of him while you sit in silence, sipping your water. You wonder wether you should bring up last night, maybe ask him if he's okay now but you have a suspicion it won't be received well by him. As you chew on your lip and debate the idea, Seungcheol looks up to meet your eyes, his face ever so serious.

"You have to take a break from work for a few days." He announces.

"What? Why?"

Probably for the first time, you see him hesitate which stresses you out. "What's wrong, Seungcheol? Tell me."

"You have received a few death threats, _____. I found them in your mail. For the time being, you need to lay low, appearing in public puts you at risk. In fact, we're leaving for a safe house today."

"Wait- what?" Your brain is trying hard to catch up. "Safe house? What are you talking about? I'm not safe here?"

"They know your address, _____. It won't take them long to get mine. I need to get you to an untraceable place."

You don't know what to feel or even how to react. You're at a loss as you try to figure out your next move. "What do those threats say exactly? Can I see them?"

Seungcheol's face hardens. "No. They're not pretty to look at." His voice brings shivers down your spine as a wave of nausea hits you. You had no idea your uncle could stoop so low. But then again, he's a murderer so you shouldn't have underestimated him. 

Seungcheol must have seen your face pale because he calls your name firmly, grounding your attention to him. "You are safe with me, _____. You just have to trust me, okay?" You find comfort in his eyes so you find yourself nodding immediately which satisfies him. "Get ready. We'll leave in two hours."

"Where are we going?"

"Don't worry about that."

"Does my father know?"

"About the death threats? Yes. He didn't seem too concerned about it though. Said it might be a prank."

Somehow, you're not surprised.

"But not about moving you to a safe location," Seungcheol adds. "No one needs to know about that. It's safer that way."

"Even my brother?"

"Yes. I suggest you call him and tell him you'll be out of reach for a while."

You deflate at that. Chan is going to be worried. And how on earth are you going to explain everything to him when all of this eventually unveils?

Seungcheol gets up, gathering all the papers and just as he turns to leave, he stops. "Oh, and ____? Don't come near me when I'm having a nightmare next time."

What?

"But Seungcheol—"

"For your own safety, _____. Don't. This is not a request." He doesn't wait for your reply but marches away as you silently watch his retreating form, lips pursed in annoyance.

The little appetite you had for breakfast is ruined as you go back to your room, cursing his stubbornness. As you pick up your phone to check for any important messages, a text from your dear father greets you. Your bodyguard told me you received death threats. Maybe it is better for you to stay at home and not work. For your own good, you should seriously consider giving your position to someone else. His flagrant attitude makes your blood boil as you fist your hands around your phone in a death grip before tossing it onto the bed in a fit of rage.

This day has not started off well.

— Two hours later you are well on your way to the safe house with a bag packed containing your absolute necessities. Your bodyguard has confiscated your real phone and gave you a burner instead just to be cautious.

Seungcheol, as always, drives the car in silence, the features of his face set to a grim expression. The air is thick with tension and you debate putting the radio on but even doing that feels too awkward.

"How long is the drive?" You finally ask, desperate to lessen this weird tension.

"We're taking a train from the station."

"Wait, what?"

"It is quite far. Driving there is going to take way too long." He calmly replies, eyes focused on the road. Sighing, you lean back and rest your head against the headrest. You let your eyes wander outside the window, watching the people, the view passing by while your mind runs rampant with all kinds of thoughts; anxious, restless.

A while later, you take notice of something in the rearview mirror and finally voice out the concern that has been bugging you for a while. "Seungcheol?" There's a touch of panic in your voice.

"Yes?"

"See that black Mercedes? It has been following us for a while…I think." You stare eagerly at Seungcheol waiting for his reply, waiting to be told that you are wrong but instead, a small, amused smile graces his lips.

"So you noticed, huh?"

It feels like your heart is going to drop out of your ass.

"What do we do?" You whisper, sitting up straight and craning your head back to take a proper look at the car. Sure enough, the SUV is right behind you, not even trying to be discreet anymore.

Fuck this crap, seriously.

"Trust me, I have got a plan. You just need to do as I tell you, okay?" He assures, his voice composed unlike yours.

"O-okay."

He turns to face you for a beat, giving you a reassuring look before continuing to drive in silence for a couple more minutes while the Mercedes stays on your tail. "Hold tight. I'm going to speed up. There's a parking lot about a mile from here. We're going to stop there."

"WHAT!"

You don't get your reply because the next second, the car is zooming forward as Seungcheol steps on the accelerator. You are gripping the dashboard and your seatbelt with your dear life as Seungcheol speeds through the lane like a madman, swerving every now and then. The Mercedes chasing you has a hard time keeping up with Seungcheol's viciously smooth driving because in a moment's time you are in the parking lot where Seungcheol parks the car in the corner farthest from the entry.

"Listen to me very carefully, ____." Seungcheol says as he turns the engine off and removes his seatbelt. "Crawl to the back and lay low, okay? No matter what happens, what you see, you do not make a move until I come get you, do you hear me?"

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you whisper. "Y-yes. Yes I do."

"Good." He squeezes your hand. "Now crawl into the back."

You do as you are told, moving into the backseat and crouching down as Seungcheol exits the car before locking it. You peek through the tinted window, watching with bated breath as the black SUV pulls up and two bald headed men exit the vehicle which parks right by the entry. They walk to Seungcheol, their stances predatory as they talk about something you cannot hear.

Next thing you know, one of the men is throwing an uppercut towards Seungcheol which fails to land because your bodyguard steps back, avoiding it easily.

Then, a full on fight ensues as the two men attack Seungcheol unsparingly. Seungcheol does not fail to keep up as he easily avoids them and counterattacks. Very soon, he is landing a kick on one of the men that throws him down to the ground with a harsh blow before grabbing the other guy and holding him in a chokehold. Soon, his body slumps to the ground.

Is he dead?

The other guy, meanwhile, recovers and charges for Seungcheol and you notice a bit too late that he has a knife because he manages to land a slash on Seungcheol's chest, making him stumble back. "Seungcheol!" Your hand unconsciously reaches for the door handle, tugging it to get out and help him. Alas, you can't do that. Fortunately, though, Seungcheol seems to not require any help as in the very next moment Seungcheol attacks the man, snatches the knife from him and bashes his head against the trunk of a car once, twice, thrice, making him fall into the ground, unconscious.

The breath you were holding finally escapes your lungs. Seungcheol dashes to the car the next moment, opening the back door and dragging you out by the arm before you can even say something.

"Come on. We don't have time."

"Wait, where are we going?" 

"There's a five minute shortcut to the station from here," he says, leading you by holding your hand as his legs pick up speed. "We have to run because they are expecting us to move by car. Come on!"

And so, you let him guide the way, his hand holding yours tightly, as you take the underground exit of the lot. You run for your life, your legs going sore but you manage to keep going just because of the adrenaline.  Soon enough, the station comes into view and Seungcheol picks up speed as the whistle of the train echoes through the air, informing its departure.

"Oh crap, we're not gonna make it!" You yell. "We will. Just keep running," Seungcheol hollers back as you both run parallel to the train that is slowly picking up speed. Suddenly Seungcheol lets go of your hand which throws you into a moment of panic but you keep running as you start to guess his plan.

You watch as he bolts for the entrance of the last carriage and in the blink of an eye, jumps inside.

"Holy shit." You curse. The next moment, he turns around and leans out the door, holding out one of his hands for you to grab onto while the other grips the handle by the door.  "Come on! Grab my hand!"

Your legs are so tired they feel shaky, ready to collapse any moment. Still, you run with all your might, holding out your hand, reaching for his. 

"Just a little bit! You can do it!" He encourages as the rhythm of the wheels intensifies, letting you know you do not have much time.

Oh shit.

Grunting in frustration, you put all the bridling remnants of your energy and dart forward which seems to be just enough, as your hand touches Seungcheol's. The next moment he grabs onto your hand and in the blink of an eye he is tugging your full weight and pulling you inside the carriage.

Upon entering, you collapse on the floor, panting loudly as Seungcheol lets go of your hand and cranes his neck out the door as if looking for something. Even though you are wheezing for air, you follow his line of sight and see two men running after the train as if they were chasing you. By now the train is moving at full speed, crossing the end of the platform, making them slow down and watch helplessly. "Who…are…they?" You choke between breaths.

"Your uncle's men." Seungcheol replies nonchalantly as he shuts the door and kneels next to you.

"How long have they been following us?"

"After we got to the station."

"Why didn't you say anything!"

"I didn't want to scare you." He replies, his hand wrapping around your shoulder. "Don't talk, just breathe. You did well."

You don't know if it is the intensity of the situation or the adrenaline crash or his words that make you slump in his arms, your body resting against his as you catch your breath. The feeling of his warmth against your body is something you are extremely grateful for at the moment.

"Please tell me you have tickets." You pant, resting your head against his shoulder.

"Of course. First class." _____ Five hours later, you are at your destination.

It is a cabin in a small town full of greenery and old architecture.  It is very picturesque, located in between a vast area of mountains, somewhere you'd come to spend the summer with your family maybe. Even though your situation is the farthest thing from a vacation, it doesn't stop you from admiring the beauty before your eyes.

"The place is very beautiful, Seungcheol." You admire the surroundings as well as the cabin.

It's somewhat isolated from the town, shrouded by the forest, as the nearest market from here is about ten minutes drive.

"Thank you, my grandfather made it. He left it for me." He provides as he carries your small bag from the car he borrowed from a friend here and unlocks the door with a key.

"We should do something about your cut." You mention worriedly, crossing the threshold as you see him slightly wince while moving. The bleeding seems to have stopped after he put some pressure in the wound but it still needs to be cleaned.

Hearing your words, he looks down to see the wound before shrugging, "It's fine. The bleeding has stopped."

You expected him to say something like that so you take matters in your own hands. "Is there a first aid kit here?" You ask as you pad to the bathroom, looking around carefully and sure enough, inside the cabinets under the sink, there's a first aid box.  Seungcheol murmurs grumbles of protest as you come back to the living area and ask for him to sit on the spot next to you on the couch.  Thankfully he listens to you. As he unbuttons his shirt, you disinfect your hands while trying your best not to peek at the delicious row of abs that comes into display. As his wound comes into view you cannot help but wince at the sight, which doesn't go unnoticed by your bodyguard. His hand immediately reaches to take the cotton swab from your hand, murmuring. "I can do it myself."

You tsk in disapproval, sending him your best scolding glare before resting one of your hands on his shoulder for support and gently swiping on the wound with the swab dipped in antiseptic with your dominant hand. Seungcheol sits still all through it while you hold your breath, channelling all your focus on the task at hand. 

It is scary; being this close to him and for some reason the act of cleaning up a cut is turned into something way too intimate by your brain. So, you don't dare to look in his eyes, afraid of what you'll see in them but terrified of what they will make you feel; something you can not resist or put a lid on, like the urge to cup his cheeks and kiss those irresistible lips.

You must be swiping at his wound with your face mere inches away from touching his chest for way too long because one of Seungcheol's hands comes to grab your wrist, stopping your movements.  "I think that's enough," His voice holds the aloofness that you are used to which makes you sigh.

"Does it hurt? Do you want a painkiller?" You still find yourself asking.

Seungcheol frowns. "No, ____. I'm fine. It's just a cut, I won't die."

"Still—"

"Maybe you should focus on yourself. You have had a long day—"

"Why do you always do this!" It takes a few moments for you to realise you are yelling. You stand on your feet, hands fisted at your sides as the first aid kit falls on the floor from your lap, spilling its contents all over.

"What do you mean?" He asks and you absolutely loathe how his voice never changes, laced with that touch of monotony and indifference.

"Ugh, Seungcheol! Why do you always push me away! I want to help you! I'm just trying to take care of you!" This, however, seems to evoke an emotion from him because he is immediately on his feet, glaring at you, his large body towering over you.

"It is not your job to take care of me! If anyone here is going to take care of someone, it will be me making sure you are alive, is that clear?"

"I'm just trying to help you yet you keep pushing me away—"

"I do not need your help!" His voice is a roar of thunder, making you gasp as you take a step back. You've never seen him like this nor did you imagine someone so unbothered and composed had a side like this. "Who are you, huh? Why do you keep stepping over the line? Did I ask for your fucking help? I'm the last person you should be worried about, Ms Lee, you understand that?"

By now, angry tears have gathered in your eyes. Not wanting to cry in front of him you bite your lips and push past him as you run towards your room. "Fuck you, Choi Seungcheol!" —

You spend a long time in your room, crying and cursing him out before eventually falling asleep out of exhaustion. 

When you are awake from your slumber, the clock reads 2 in the morning. Disoriented and irritated and hungry, the first thing you do after emptying your bladder is go hunt for something to eat. Even though you intended to avoid Seungcheol, it is impossible not to come across him as he sleeps on the couch in the living room, this one thankfully big enough for him to comfortably lie. 

There's a small lamp in the corner of the room and the light from there is falling on one side of his face, highlighting his cheekbones. 

You stand still for a moment to make sure that he's actually asleep, before tiptoeing to the kitchen. Pouring yourself a glass of water and you think of something easy to make that will not wake up the moody bastard in the next room. 

However, you don't get too far with that thought because a moment later, you hear an all familiar groan float through the quiet air of the night. It is Seungcheol. And he's having a nightmare. Once again. It's like deja vu.

All his commands of not helping him fly out the window as you run to the living room. Before you can reach there, however, you hear a crash and upon entering you see Seungcheol, wide awake and sitting on the floor on his hands and knees, his entire frame shaking violently as he keeps uttering something under his breath, still stuck in his nightmare. 

Your heart drops when you see the glass showpiece on the centre table shattered on the floor, along with the pillows and blanket that were previously on the couch. "Seungcheol!" You yell as you rush to him, carefully avoiding the broken shards of glass and sitting on your knees next to him as you try to get him out of his head and focus on you. His blown out pupils meet yours as his hands shake and his breath comes out in struggling pants. 

He's having a panic attack.

"Seungcheol!" you call for him, trying your best to keep your voice stable which proves to be hard as your heart breaks for the man, hating seeing him in this state. 

"Look at me. Listen to my voice. Breathe. Breathe with me. Look at me. Breathe, just breathe, you're going to be fine."

And so for the next few minutes, you try your best to calm the agitated man down, holding his body next to yours as you run your hands along his back, up and down, up and down.

You realise he's back to normal when the shuddering stops and his body remains immoblie next to you, as if he has fallen asleep.  You know otherwise because when you pull back to take a look at his face, you find his eyes open, that familiar, empty and aloof gaze replacing the panicked ones. His lips are set to a thin line and you feel his whole body stiffen next to yours and just like you know he is back to normal.

This time, you do not ask him if he's okay or if he wants anything. Instead you get up from the floor quietly and go to the kitchen where you quickly make him a warm cup of tea.

When you return, he's still on the floor, sitting with his back against the sofa, hands resting on his knees as his head hangs low. Silently, you walk over and sit next to him before extending the steaming mug towards him.

You hold your breath, waiting for him to reject it and start spewing mean words at you but you are to be amazed. 

Surprising you, he does none of those things but accepts the mug and takes a small sip. A tiny smile of victory graces your lips as you settle your gaze forward to the empty wall and sit in silence next to him. 

As the steam gradually disappears from the mug and his dejected posture becomes tense and uptight, you know he's about to tell you off.  Your guess turns out to be correct because just a moment later, he sets his mug down on the floor and turns to face you. His voice is stoic when he speaks, "I clearly told you not to—"

"Do you want to talk about it?" You interrupt him with a soft voice. He appears stunned as his mouth opens to say something but closes back to a tight line.

"I used to have nightmares as well, after the accident." You whisper, leaning back to the sofa, your unfocused gaze settled on the  walls of the cabin as your mind disappears in the depths of the memories of those gruesome nights.

"I'd wake up screaming and crying. Every damn time I'd see the crash so vividly and the moments before it, my mom's desperate eyes at mine, her fading words, telling me to hold on, telling me that she loves me..." You lose your voice with a choke as tears blind your vision. A hand comes to rest on your shoulder gently and gives you a reassuring squeeze. It takes a few moments for your brain to process that it's Seungcheol and you are pleasantly surprised. 

Your eyes search for him, and his face is solemn, his eyes showing just a reflection of kindness and sympathy. With a sad smile, you wipe the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. "It was horrible at the beginning when I couldn't speak. I'd wake up distressed and not finding my voice would make it even worse. For the first two months, Chan stayed with me every night. He'd try his best to calm me down but every night I'd be just as scared to go to bed."

"Eventually, the nightmares didn't come as often. Especially after I realised I could speak again and I was remembering bits and pieces of the accident and my suspicion was growing. I haven't had any nightmares for a while now but I remember how they made me feel. How awfully...real they felt." You sigh, shuddering at the thought.

A few moments of silence pass by as Seungcheol's hand drops from your shoulder. You don't expect him to spill his heart out but you are grateful that he didn't push you away and listened to you and comforted you. It is more than you ever thought you could get from him. Having this simple, somewhat bitter moment of intimacy is enough to soothe your love starved heart.  However, you realise it's a night full of surprises when Seungcheol starts speaking. "I was in the military, as you know. I joined when I was eighteen. I lost my parents the year before so it was just me and my grandfather." His voice is quiet as he fixes his eyes out the window, looking at the dark night sky.

You follow his gaze and make a quick observation that there are no stars tonight, just an empty, dark sky, before setting your gaze on Seungcheol's face. 

"My grandfather served in the military during the early years of his life and I wanted to follow his footsteps. The first few years were tough but good. I enjoyed them as they kept me busy and focused. During my fifth year in the military, my grandfather passed away peacefully in his sleep. I was on break at that time so I was there with him in his last moments. However, it still broke me. Sending him off was one of the hardest things I had ever done."

He pauses, making you hold your breath and anticipate his next words. His expression is unreadable, his sharp gaze focused outside when he continues.  "I returned to the military a different man. My life as a soldier became everything to me. I worked ten times harder than anyone else as the military turned into my entire life. I jumped through the ranks very quickly and went on various missions as a SEAL. All of them were dangerous but successful as I led my teams out safely each time. Until Sudan."

There is another heavy pause as you feel the air thicken with tension. You know the worst part is about to begin and as you observe his gaze become more and more unfocused, you can't help but dread whatever is coming next. "It was a humanitarian mission. Me and my team were tasked to rescue some families from a group of local terrorists. They were held inside a camp in the middle of the desert. The infiltration was successful. But, just as we were escaping, the terrorists found out and came at us with double manpower. They had a couple of high powered explosives which we were unprepared for because they were not supposed to have such weapons."

"As my team and I were exchanging fire against them, a bomb went off right next to me. It is the last thing I remember before waking up in a hospital bed a week later."

"The explosion fucked up left leg. I needed three surgeries and months of rehabilitation. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part is that it cost three of my teammates their lives."

Oh Seungcheol. Tears are beading down your eyes as you let his words soak into you.

"It happened almost six years ago but it still haunts me. How I fucked up. How I killed them." "Seungcheol, no!" You scold, your voice not as powerful as you'd like it to be as it breaks mid way. "You did not kill them, you hear me? It was an accident. A horrible one but it was not your fault in any way. They died honourably and think of all the others you saved, all the times you led your team out of harm successfully. Think about all the lives you have saved, all the people you have helped." Your grip is strong on his forearms as you turn him to face you fully. His eyes meet you; bleak and hopeless and the urge to wipe away all his pain soars within you. It's a shame you can't do that so you do the next best thing you can think of.

You pull him in a tight hug. You wrap yourself around him, resting your chin over his shoulder as you close your eyes and hold him tight, the act a bit hard due his huge build. For several long moments he doesn't hug you back until you finally feel his warm hands creep on your back as he rests his face against your neck, cocooning your body with his.

You swallow a sob and blink furiously to drive away the tears, your hands stroking his hair in gentle motions. "It's alright, Cheol. You are going to be just fine. It is all going to be okay."

His response is to hold you tighter and you welcome his vulnerability, his pain and agony with open arms, breathing it in as if it is your own. Long moments are spent as you two remain in each other's embrace until you finally sit back to take a look at him.

"Maybe you should talk to a therapist?"

"I did," he sighs, running a hand through his soft locks. "After the accident, I saw one for almost a year. I was prescribed so many medicines and I almost got addicted to them even though they weren't doing much to help. So I decided to quit altogether and moved here, in his cabin. I stayed here for about six months, trying to pull myself together before an old friend of mine called, asking if I wanted to join his private security company. I agreed because I couldn't live in solitude any longer without killing myself and now, I'm here." You nod, watching him intently as you two sit with mere inches of space between each other's faces. In the back of your mind, you realize that this is the most intimate you have been with Seungcheol and probably you will ever get to be so you can't help but speak the next words. "You are so beautiful, Seungcheol. Inside and out. You are such an amazing person.I only wish you would know that." Your words can barely be heard because you speak so softly but it contains emotions from the deepest, rawest part of your heart. Sitting with him on the floor, in the middle of the night at a cabin in the woods, talking about your deepest traumas and secrets is something you never thought you would experience but now you realise, it is a treasure, a moment of profoundness that you will carry close to your heart for the rest of your life.

Seungcheol's eyes widen for a fraction upon hearing your words before he shifts, trying to pull away from you but your strong grip on his hands stops him. Once again, you find yourself confessing. "Ever since you've come to my life, I feel hopeful, even though we are going through so much trouble. I want to live again and I feel happy and hopeful when I look at you. And I can never thank you enough for that."

Seungcheol's Adams apple bobs as he swallows and the expression on his face is so vivid you realize you have left him speechless. A small, shy smile sets on your lips as you squeeze his hands softly, your thumb stroking over his bruised knuckles.  While your mind swoons over how tender this moment is and how beautiful he looks and how soft his lips appear, he inches his face closer to you before pressing his lips against yours.

At first, you believe it's a dream.

It is bound to be, no?

Blinking multiple times, you make sure that it in fact is not a dream but it seems to take too long because Seungcheol is pulling away from you, the apology right there at the tip of his tongue. However, you do not let him speak the words he doesn't mean. Instead, you do what you have only done in your late night fantasies, you cup his cheeks and pull his face down to yours, meeting his lips in a fierce kiss. You do not even think of holding back, pouring every bit of passion and need and admiration for him into it. 

Thankfully, he reciprocates, cupping your neck and jaw, tilting your face for better access. 

And it's wonderland. It is everything you imagined and more, everything you want and need, everything that can heal you.

In the rosy haze of desire and desperation, your hungry hands travel down to the hem of his white t-shirt, tugging on it in a futile attempt to get it off. The action gets the attention of Seungcheol as he dettaches his lips from yours, taking a look at your face.

"_____—" he makes a weak attempt to stop you but his words die on his tongue as you hastily stand up, dragging him with him. Pressing a soft finger on his lips, you shush him as you bring your face closer to him and whisper in his ear. "Don't push me away Seungcheol, please. I need you. And you need me too."

There is a battle in his gaze as he stares at your longing visage for a moment with a clenched jaw before muttering a curse underneath his breath. The next moment, you are being carried to your bedroom and in the blink of an eye, you are standing in front of your bed with his frame towering over you.

"You wanted this?" He teases but his eyes are lit with a fire that is inextinguishable as he takes off his shirt and even in the dimly lit room, you do not miss the carved perfection of his body, littered with scars here and there. In vain hope, you pray that your face isn't visible as you ogle him but you know it is because his unrelenting stare breaks your skin into goosebumps. 

As you are stuck in a trance of lust, he takes a step closer to you before his breath grazes your ear. "Lift your hands, angel."

The next moment, he pulls your nightshirt off your body, leaving you only in your sleeping shorts. He wastes no time, attacking them right next as they come off with a tug and you fall into your bed. You have no time to overthink or feel shy because Seungcheol cages your body underneath his as he crawls to you, a dark look of hunger on his face. 

"You are a fucking temptress, you know that?" He grunts, a calloused thumb reaching out to stroke your cheek. You lean into his touch, eyes falling closed at the contact as a soft sigh escapes your lips but the next moment Seungcheol is grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for a heated kiss. 

It's all teeth and tongue as he devours your mouth, two tongues entangled in a fierce rhythm of tango before finally letting you gasp for air.  "Crawl up," his voice is that of a quiet command which you follow instantly, letting him sit comfortably on his knees as he spreads your legs wide.

The very next moment a squeak leaves your mouth as Seungcheol pushes his index finger inside you, your wetness granting easy access. He makes a noise, something akin to an animalistic groan as his digit easily slips inside. 

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he murmurs as he inserts another finger and then another before curling them inside you.

"Seungcheol!" You yell, grabbing the sheets as your hips lift off the mattress due to the electrifying jolt of pleasure. Your reaction makes him grunt as he fastens his face and you feel your legs tremble, making you think that you are going to come already. 

Your core tightens around his fingers as more wetness leaks from you, only amplified when he brushes his thumb against your clit. Another gasp and a shudder of your body makes Seungcheol smirk as he whispers, "Gonna come, angel?"

You nod your head aggressively, your hips chasing his fingers in their own rhythm and just as the tingles of your release soars in your body, Seungcheol removes his fingers.

"No!" Your protest is immediate but the man only gives you a cruel smile as he makes a show of licking his fingers clean. The act itself is extremely hot and you cannot help but release another groan of frustration. 

"Seungcheol! Please let me—"

"You are gonna lie back and let me eat your pussy now, hmm? After I'm satisfied, I will let you come." He announces, lips hovering over your thighs, the touch of his warm breath giving your goosebumps. The low gravel of his voice paired with the way he keeps looking at you from between your thighs makes you swallow thickly before lying your head back into the pillow, a shuddering breath leaving your lips.

"Good girl."

Good girl.

Your core clenches deliciously.  However, you do not get to soak in the warmth of his praise because the next moment he flicks your clit with his tongue and your scream pierces the night air. Your body writhes while he holds your thighs open in a strong grip, incoherent gasps and curses of pleasure falling from your lips. Seungcheol is like a man starved, as he eats you out mercilessly, his tongue going deep inside your most intimate parts. You can't remain still, tears of pleasure stinging your eyes as your body shakes and pleas fall from your lips.

"Oh f-fuck! Seungcheol! Please!" 

You yourself do not know what you are begging for. It's the sweetest torture, one you want to end but also continue forever.

Your release has wet your inner thighs and paired with Seungcheol's saliva they drip down to your asshole but Seungcheol doesn't stop. He brings his attention to your hard, swollen clit now which he flicks repeatedly with his tongue.

"Fuck! I can't! Please let me come!" You are convinced your voice can be heard from miles away. "You wanna come?" He grunts between breaths, voice muffled.

"Yes, yes! Please!"

"Then come. Come for me, my angel." The command has your toes curling as he gives a harsh suck to your clit and in an instant, you go off like a firework. The heated coil in your belly snaps as your body twitches, sending you headfirst into an orgasm so good, so deep, tears drip down your eyes. All through it, Seungcheol keeps sucking your pussy, almost making you numb before stopping with a final, sloppy kiss on your clit and sitting back.

Even in the darkness, you see his lips shine with your release.

"You are an aphrodisiac, angel." His words caress your skin as he leans forward and presses soft, tantalising kisses on your jaw and down your throat. 

"Please, fuck me now," your voice is a cry of plea as you chase his lips for a kiss. He entertains you, tangling your mouths in an embrace of passion as you taste yourself on his tongue. One of his hands moves down amidst the kiss and your foggy brain registers that he's taking off his sweatpants. 

With a soft groan he takes off his lips from yours and frees himself from your entangled limbs, standing up to kick his boxers and sweatpants down his legs. 

And oh dear lord is he a view. You admire him in his nakedness in the half lit room, drinking every inch of him. You can't stray your eyes from his cock, hard and leaking as you gulp and send a prayer to the sky, marvelling at his size.

Seungcheol crawls back into the bed, his movements akin to the grace of a panther, his eyes lit with ferocity and huger as he pins both your wrists over your head with one hand.

"I'm going to fuck you so good you will be ruined for any other man." He promises, giving you a delicious shiver on your spine. You want to scream that you don't need any other man, you never will but the thought dies in your mind when you feel his tip prodding at your core.  He slides in easily, almost embarrassingly easy as your sopping cunt welcomes him with wide open arms. A guttural groan escapes from his throat as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, spewing curses. The sound makes you clench around him which makes him curse again.

"You are so fucking tight, fuck!"

You can only respond in an incoherent hum as he starts moving inside you, making you throw your head back and let out a loud moan. He raises his head to look at you and your eyes contact and in a second, everything becomes more intense. The look in his eyes is ever captivating and ruthless while he pistons in and out of you tirelessly, hitting that sensitive spot inside you perfectly each time.

"You're going to be the death of me." He whispers, almost as if he's talking to himself. His mouth works on your jaw, moving down to your throat and sucking harshly on the soft flesh, making you shudder in pleasure. "Seungcheol!" You cry. "Harder! Please!"

"Any harder and I'll come right now."

"Do it! Come inside me!" All other thoughts and worries have left your mind and beg him for more, already cock drunk.

"Fuck, you sure?"

"I'm on pills, Cheol. I'm sure," you pant, clutching onto his back as he increases his pace, leaning back to sit on his knees as his hands move to your waist, holding you in a bruising grip.

"Gonna fill you up then, angel. Make this pussy bleed my come." He promises with a snark, his eyes trained on your face as he delivers one particular thrust that has you arching off the bed and seeing stars.

Then there is a brush of touch on your hard clit and a quiet command of coming which has fireworks exploding all throughout your body. You cry out, from pleasure and pain so addictive that white spots dance in your vision, hands twisting the fabric of the bedsheet so hard it would be no surprise if they tore.  The next moment you feel Seungcheol release inside you and the feeling of his warm cum coating your insides gives your body another round of shivers as you completely blank out. You are transported to a hazy place where you feel like you are floating through the air as you lose all sense of connection from this world.

It takes a while for you to recover and once you do, you realise Seungcheol has slumped over next to you as his breathing gradually returns to normal. You turn your head slightly to look at him and just as your eyes meet, he makes a move to get up.  Your hand immediately latches onto his arm. "Don't go." You croak.

"I need to clean you up." His voice is quiet.

"Later." You whisper, begging with your eyes. "Just lay with me for a while." He remains still for a moment, probably battling with himself before lying back next to you. He stretches one of his arms and you quickly use it as a pillow, shuffling closer to his body and resting your palm on his chest. Seungcheol tenses next to you but you don't let it get to you as your hand gently strokes an old scar right beneath his chest. Just as you are almost falling asleep, you feel his hand wrap around your waist, holding you softly and a smile graces your lips.

I love you, Choi Seungcheol.

— The next morning, Seungcheol starts avoiding you like you are the plague. As soon as you step out of your bedroom, Seungcheol, who was sitting in the living area quite literally bolts outside with his laptop and everything, throwing a curt good morning to you and not even sparing a glance.

You are hurt, to say the least. While a silly part of you expected that maybe you would wake up with him in the same bed and have breakfast together before some more lovemaking, the realistic part of you did not expect him to act like this. 

Like nothing happened.

Or worse, acting like what happened was a mistake.

Does he really think that last night was a mistake? 

It hurts to even think that he might believe that so you push that thought away with all your might. Instead, you focus on making yourself a nice breakfast before soaking in the tub for a while as you try to focus all your attention on plotting your uncles demise.

Once you are nice and clean after the soak, you find Seungcheol in the kitchen, drinking something from his mug as he talks over the phone with someone. You wait for him to finish, using the spare time to admire how good he looks— slightly messy hair, an old grey t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Once again, your mind travels to how good he railed you last night but before it can travel too far, you shake yourself back to the present.

"I need to talk to you." You announce as soon as he sets his phone down. Seungcheol's head snaps up to your voice and a grim expression settles on his face before he murmurs. 

"There's nothing to talk about. Last night was an accident. We were both vulnerable and it just... happened." It's like someone ripped your beating heart off of your chest or dumped you into a bucket of ice or better yet, did that together. Yet it still wouldn't hurt as much as his words pierce through you right now, leaving you utterly speechless as you just blink repeatedly, trying to make sure you heard that right. "It was not an accident, Seungcheol. You know it." Your voice is deathly quiet and you can feel yourself on the precipice of snapping.

"The hell it wasn't, _____." He snaps. "I am your fucking bodyguard and you are my client. I am not getting paid to take advantage of you!"

"Take advantage of me?" You seethe as an overwhelming urge to punch something, like his face, overcomes you. You have to take a deep breath in to form the next words. "I am not some helpless, pathetic girl that you can take advantage of. Whatever happened last night was real and with our consent. The man last night was the real you, the one you keep hiding, not this!" Seungcheol clenches his jaw, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Either way, it should not have happened. We, you and me—" he points between the two of you. "It does not work. It won't."

"Seungcheol— "

"That's enough _______."

"No, tell me. Enlighten me, please," Your voice drips with sarcasm as you take a step towards him, crossing your hands in front of your chest. "Why do we not work? What delightful, eye opening information has been revealed upon you which led you to this wise conclusion?" The twitch in his jaw clearly tells you that he does not appreciate your sarcasm but you've had enough of his stubbornness, especially when it is clear that he wants you as well.

"So far, I'll I've heard is that I can't have you not, I don't want you. Quit playing games with yourself Seungcheol!"

"I am fucking loose grenade!" His scream is abrupt, making you jolt. The veins in his neck pop out as he steps back, his frantic eyes glaring at you. "I cannot keep you safe! Not from myself. I am a man whose past haunts him. I can't fucking sleep at night without getting nightmares and smashing things! I cannot pass a day without the guilt of my past following me! I am headed towards hell and I cannot drag you down with me. I am not the man for you, _____, try to understand!"

"I think that's for me to decide, no?" You take another step towards him, trying to calm him down.

"No!" He yells, stepping back. "Enough! Just— enough. This conversation is over. I'm going out and when I return, we will pretend that none of this ever happened."

"You fucking asshole!"  You normally do not curse.  Out loud at least. Your mother had a strict rule of no bad language and you and your brother followed that rule to a t. No matter what you have encountered so far in your life, nothing gave you the urge to curse half as much as you want to right now.

"That's right. I am an asshole." He states calmly, sparing you a blank look before turning and heading for the main door.

"You fucking son of a bitch! I did not want to talk about this in the first place! When I said I need to talk with you, I meant about my uncle, you idiot!"

He stops in his tracks before slowly turning his head to look at you. "What about him?" His calmness makes you absolutely livid and even though you try your hardest to form words, the only thing your tongue seems to want to utter are curse words.

"It doesn't concern you anymore, asswipe." Seungcheol's lips form a thin line as he watches you quietly for a few moments.

"Do not do anything stupid,_____." He has the nerve to order you before marching out of the house, slamming the door loudly behind him.

"Go to hell, dickhead!" —

The rest of the day is uneventful as you two mind your own business, avidly avoiding each other. After Seungcheol leaves and blesses you with solitude you pace around the house angrily before going for a walk in the forest behind the cabin.

It is not dense or uncomfortable as a walking trek has been premade and you take a long walk which helps you clear your head just a bit. It takes your mind off of your stubborn bodyguard and back onto your uncle as you think of ways to trap him in a position he cannot easily get out of, as early as possible. With the plan you have in mind, it proves to be a bit hard, because you are staying in the middle of nowhere and your uncle has no clue where you are.

You walk home an hour later with a less obscure mind and send Chan a text through the burner phone, letting him know that you are alive and well. 

Your brother video calls you soon after and you almost forget that you are supposed to be mute at the joy of seeing your brother. It kills you that you have to lie to him but you bite your teeth and do it, telling him that work got too overwhelming and you are taking some days off and promise him of your quick return. You know your brother is not stupid and he has started doubting you but he is kind enough not to push you for more, which you are grateful for.

Seungcheol returns home a little after noon with more supplies. You act like he does not exist as you finish your lunch and retire to your room where you spend the rest of the day, lying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything and nothing. As the skies bleed to dark, dinner time rolls around and you two eat separately. Once again, Seungcheol makes no attempt to talk to you or acknowledge you just like you are doing but it still infuriates you, which you try to control by doing copious amounts of yoga in your room, before finally falling asleep quite late.

However, disaster strikes with the arrival of dawn, as the first rays of sun kiss the sky. 

You are snapped out of sleep as you open your eyes and find Seungcheol hovering over you, shaking you awake.

"Wake up, _____! Your uncle is here. He found us!"

Immediately you bolt upright, half thinking that all this is a vivid dream. As your panicked eyes meet his, your shaky hands clutching his biceps and you whisper. "W-what? How? I- I don't understand."

"I don't know either." Seungcheol grunts, craning his neck to look out the window. "There are two jeeps heading towards us. You need to get out."

As if on cue, you hear the loud roar of the engines as they come to a stop right in front of the cabin. Seungcheol helps your shaky form out of bed and ushers you down the stairs. 

"Take the back exit. Hide in the forest until I come for you. If I don't, call Jihoon for help. His number is here. And take this." he explains, handing his burner phone and a gun to you but your brain is stuck in a loop, not processing that there is a fucking gun in your hand.

"What do you mean if I don't? You are coming with me—"

"No. I will hold them off while you escape. Go, now." He orders, pushing you towards the back door of the kitchen. 

"_____! I know you're in there! Come out while I am being nice and maybe we can come to an agreement! You do not want to end up like your mother, do you now?" Your body freezes as you hear your uncle yell from the front door. The anger evoked from his words makes you want to stay and confront him but Seungcheol keeps pushing you, telling you to run.

And so, sparing one last longing look at Seungcheol, you tuck your weapon in your waist and run. You have not gotten even fifty feet away from the cabin when the first round of shots echo through the air. Your blood freezes as you come to a halt, turning your head around to look at the cabin as gunshots echo through the air.

You have to swallow a lump in your throat as tears gather in your eyes, the temptation to go back increasing. But you know going back is not a good idea because it will put Seungcheol's life at risk, more than it already is. So you keep moving deeper into the forest, the treks familiar because you have been here before and you make your way through very easily. When you come across a small cliff shrouded by thick bushes you decide to hide there, waiting to see if your uncle's men come around here. Confirming your guess, they do, after a while as they jog through, looking around for you. However, they fail to estimate your hiding place and continue deeper into the forest down the trek and just then, an idea forms in your head.

You have to go back.

The universe is on your side because you realise after some peeking around and shuffling through trees that there is another road that you can use to go back to the cabin. This one is definitely unused and riskier but you are determined to make this work. So, with a deep breath you jog through the narrow, muddy lane and soon enough, you find your way back.

The cabin is now quiet, eerily so.

The back door remains open, granting you access and you carefully step one foot in, holding your breath. 

It is a mess; bullet holes scattered around, a few bodies slumped on the ground, specks of blood all over the floor. The scene is bone chilling and you have to take several deep breaths to calm down. You can hear noises coming from somewhere in the house, grunts and yells, as if people are fighting, which is what is undoubtedly happening. No matter how severe your urge is to follow the sound and make sure Seungcheol is okay, you decide against it, putting faith in his capabilities instead and sending a prayer out to heaven. Careful not to step on any blood, you make your way through the mess and gingerly climb up the stairs, pausing to make sure no one is around. The coast is clear, thankfully, as no one is upstairs and you head straight for the little storeroom next to the bedroom, where you kept the very little belongings you brought with you.

You took special care to hide your prized possession, the evidence file. It stays secure inside a special compartment Seungcheol showed you that is situated under the wooden floor. Quickly removing the carpet, you open the hatch and look inside to make sure the files are there.

And they are, thankfully. Picking them up, you hold them to your chest and close the hatch, putting everything in its place while holding your breath through all of it. In the next second, the voice you dreaded echoes through the air.

"I believe I am going to need that, _____." 

You whip your head back to see your dear uncle standing at the door frame, lips twisted in a diabolic smirk like he got you just where he wanted to.  "I knew you would lead me to the evidence, niece. I just had to wait. And I knew you would contact your dear little brother no matter what so I put a little tracker on his phone and it led me here. Easy, no?" He shakes his head,  laughing cockily at his plan.

Your blood runs cold as your fingers grip the envelope tightly.

"Over my dead body." You hiss.

"Oh yeah, and my men told me you could speak?" He taunts, shaking his head some more. "Can you imagine my surprise when I heard that? Tell me, were you faking it all along? To what, get some pity points?"

"You will rot in jail, asshole. I will personally see to it." You seethe, clutching the folder tighter against your chest.  Your uncle's face loses its amusement as he stares at you for a while, cold and unblinking before reaching back and pulling out a gun. Your heart skips a beat as he points it right at you.

"The file, ______. I am not here to play games."

"Never." There is an immediate deafening noise of gunfire, making you squeeze your eyes shut and for a horrible moment, you think he has shot you. Opening your eyes, you see there's a hole in the roof where he has aimed his gun before pointing it back at you.

"Don't make me kill you like your mother. I need you alive for all the other plans I have."

"She was your sister in law!" You cry.

"She was a thorn in my way!" He seethes. "A conniving bitch trying to take the company from me and my son! Always challenging me! Always speaking against me!"

"It was never yours to begin with, you ugly old man! She knew you would steal it from us!"

"I dare you to speak one more word and the next bullet will be in your hand and the one after that will be in your leg. I won't do the mercy of killing you, _____. I will put you through hell on earth before I grant you the freedom of death." He sneers, eyes fueled with hatred. You swallow, your breath coming out in heavy pants as you decide on what to do next. 

Finally, with a defeated sigh you raise your arms in surrender and take a small, tiny step towards him, trying to appear as meek and harmless as possible. "You could have not killed her. You could have sent her away if she was a problem." You whisper, voice cracking. "Huh," he scoffs. "As if that bitch would listen. The only way was to get rid of her. For good. I knew she would be in the car with you that day and I planned to kill two birds with one stone but alas, that didn't happen" He shrugs, pouting. "It's alright, though. I know how to use it in my favour. I have so many plans for you. You're gonna come with me and sign off—"

"Drop the gun, Jin."

Seungcheol!

It is Seungcheol, pointing his Glock at the back of Jin's head as he appears behind him all of a sudden. You are flooded with gratitude so big tears come to your eyes and hope flares in your chest seeing him alive, hurt and dishevelled but alive. However, your hope is quick to die down when Jin speaks the next words.

"You sure you wanna do that, son?" Your uncle remains unaffected as he slightly turns his head, his words directed to Seungcheol. "You pull the trigger and by the time it has hit me I can pull the trigger as well and her brains will be splattered all over these walls. You don't want that, do you? Besides, I know as a matter of fact your boss here wants me alive. She has grand plans for me, is that not right, _____?"

His eyes pan back to you, the evilest of smiles on his face as you grit your teeth, trying to keep yourself from doing anything rash.

You underestimated your uncle for sure.

"Drop the gun, son. I won't say it again." He orders, taking a menacing step towards you. "You drop it and nobody gets hurt. I need this bitch alive for everything I have planned." Seungcheol's eyes meet yours and the helplessness and frustration is visible in them. You watch with bated breath as he slowly points the gun away from Jin's head and sets it down on the ground, raising his hands in surrender. A satisfied smile sets on your uncle's face and he lets his guard down for a moment, a fraction of a second, which Seungcheol takes advantage of.  In the blink of an eye, Seungcheol jumps on him, grabbing his legs and dragging him down onto the floor. His grip on the gun falters, letting it fall on the floor and as he makes a move to reach for it, Seungcheol kicks it to the farthest corner of the room.

A scuffle between them ensues and Seungcheol tries to overpower Jin and pin him down onto the floor. However, your uncle, the master of playing dirty, manages to pull a switchblade from his pocket and slashes Seungcheol on the arm, making him fall off of him. "I'm gonna fucking gut you, you son of a bitch!" He yells, charging for Seungcheol as he pins him down, aiming the blade towards his throat but Seungcheol stops him with a practised move. An intense battle of power ensues but you've had enough as you reach  for the gun Seungcheol gave you, tucked at your waistband.

Pointing it straight at Jin's head, you yell. "Drop the knife, Jin! I really don't want to kill you!"

"You don't have the balls to shoot me, bitch!" He yells back, not even glancing at you, busy subduing Seungcheol as he stabs him in the shoulder. That motherfucker!

He underestimated you greatly.

Furious, you pull the trigger and the bullet lands right where you aimed it, Jin's knee. With a howl of pain, he falls off of Seungcheol who quickly gets back up and wraps an arm around his throat in a chokehold.

"You filthy little bitch! You fucking —"

Seungcheol tightens the grip on his neck and after struggling for a few moments, Jin passes out, making you sigh in relief as you step back and lean against the wall. "You shot him." Seungcheol's voice is laced with bewilderment as he watches you with a look of surprise and admiration. "Self defence," you shrug, closing your eyes and inhaling a deep breath. "Tie him up. I'll call the police."

— Fifteen minutes later the cops arrive with blaring sirens followed by an ambulance. 

As soon as the ambulance comes to a stop, you are dragging Seungcheol towards it, yelling at the staff to get a look at his shoulder, around which you have wrapped a cloth to lessen the bleeding. As a responder attends to Seungcheol's injury, two policemen rush into the house when you tell them that the culprit is tied up inside. 

You stand out front with your arms crossed, the morning sun now high in the sky, the warm rays caressing your face as you watch your uncle being dragged out of the house and into one of the police cars. He is yelling and cursing his complaints, his eyes filled with hatred as they come in contact with yours. 

Your body goes rigid, the revelation coming upon you that he is done for and he knows it. You know he is definitely going to deny everything but he has another surprise coming his way.

An officer comes to you, talking about the next procedures and asking basic questions but you cannot quite register his words as your body finally gets off the high of adrenaline and realisation hits you like a bulldozer, it's over.

It is over. You got him. 

I got him, Mom. I will make him pay.

Seungcheol, who sits at the back of the ambulance while a nurse gives his shoulder a temporary fix, listens to the officer carefully, answering his questions in your place before thanking him as he takes his leave. 

"Are you okay?" Seungcheol's uninjured hand comes up to gently touch your arm, making you jump as you are snapped out of your reverie.

"Would you like me to look at you, ma'am? The responder offers as she takes off her gloves. "You look pale." You shake your head, swallowing as you wrap your arms around yourself. Seungcheol gives your hand a tug, making you sit next to him.  "Please take a look at her." He says to the nurse, who nods while he shrugs off the blanket sitting on his shoulder and wraps it around yours with his free hand. 

"Breathe, _____." He speaks softly, his hand holding yours. You nod, focusing on your breath for the next few minutes as the nurse does a quick check up on you. There are a lot of unshed tears within you and a lot of emotions you need to let out but you just cannot bring yourself to do that right now. There is this numb feeling all over you accompanied by an overwhelmingness.

And you know very well the war isn't over just yet. You have to make sure your uncle ends up behind bars. Even though you have some control over your emotions right now, you remember that you have to explain every hideous detail to Chan and you know will break down then. You know you will break down again when you visit your mother's grave but you know this time, you will feel less guilty of being the only one surviving, less in agony because you have avenged her.

"I have called my lawyer. He's preparing all the documents. We should head home now." You speak, eyes staring at the sun shining over the hills and the lush greenery.

This place is magical. You want to come here again, someday.

"Okay," Seungcheol agrees as his hand comes to rest over yours and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. Your eyes pan back to his face, littered with cuts before settling on his shoulder.  You open your mouth to scold him for getting hurt when he sighs. "What were you thinking, _____? I told you not to come back to the cabin. Your uncle had you just where he wanted. You could have been seriously hu—

"I had a plan, Seungcheol."

"What plan?" He looks annoyed. A soft smile graces your lips as your hand travels to the front pocket of your shirt. You pick the pen sitting there and hand it to Seungcheol with a mischievous smile. Frowning, he examines the item carefully until it dawns on him as his eyes widen. "This has a camera!"

"Yep! It can record audio and video very clearly. I had it on me for a while and as I was hiding in the forest I suddenly realised that I couldn't get better proof against my uncle than right then. So I went back to be the bait."

"Still, you don't realise how risky—"

"Trust me, I do. But I had no option. Besides, my gut told me that my uncle really didn't want to kill me unless he had to because after everything that happened, I was more valuable to him alive than dead." Seungcheol stares at you, all a loss for words before shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Wanna know something more fun?"

"What?" He is wary. "The documents I hid? They are not the real ones!" You cannot hold back a laugh as Seungcheol looks as you, more perplexed than before.

"I mean, come on! I'm not that stupid! I wouldn't carry them with me knowing my uncle is looking for them! I hid the original files in Chan's safe after I had him promise me not to touch them."

"Wow…" Seungcheol shakes his head in utter disbelief as he tries to wrap his head around everything. "Still, if I hadn't come for you on time…"

"I knew you would, Seungcheol. I believed that deep in my heart." You whisper, fingers lacing with his as your eyes meet. Seungcheol swallows and looks away, blinking. With a soft sigh, you stand up. "Are you sure you can travel this long in the car? Should I call in a helicopter for you?" Seungcheol rolls his eyes, standing up as well. "It's a fucking graze, _____. I have had way worse and I survived. I will be fine. I already feel fine." Your eyes narrow at him and you want to reprimand him but you cannot find it in your heart to do so. With a sigh, you usher him towards the car. "Let's go then. I'll drive."

— The next 48 hours pass by in the blink of an eye as you go through the most hectic time of your life. 

The first thing you do upon entering the city is sit down with your lawyer for a detailed discussion on the next steps you are going to take and hand the video recording to him. After that you ask Chan to come over to your place where you explain everything to him from a to z. It proves to be one of the worst moments of your life as you watch your brother's face pale with every word you utter and by the time you finish explaining everything he goes as still as a statue before abruptly taking his leave.

The next day you are asked to give a statement to the police along with Seungcheol which takes quite a while as you explain everything in detail. During that time the news breaks about your uncle getting arrested and charged for both murder and attempted murder leading to a flock of reporters chasing you down wherever you go. 

The stocks of the company are also affected as a side effect of the scandal and you have to spend a good amount of time in the office as you try to reassure everyone and get everything under control with your business partners.

On the third day after Jin's arrest, the police officially read out all the charges against him and announce the dates of the trials which sends the press into a second round of frenzy as they try to get your opinion on it, mobbing you whenever you step outside.

Your father is also taken in for questioning where he, thankfully, admits to his crimes and then he is also arrested with the charge of withholding information. He claims that his brother was blackmailing him so he had to keep the murder a secret. Whatever his reason was, you do not care anymore.

You refrain from engaging with the press as much as possible, other than the press conference arranged by your company that you had to attend but you do not make any comments about your uncle or father, just announcing that they will be punished accordingly and you and your brother will do your utmost best to protect the company. 

Amid all of this, Seungcheol refuses to leave your side, even with his injured shoulder. 

The wound was not deep but he was advised not to move the shoulder too much, an instruction he didn't pay any heed to when he was protecting you from the fleet of reporters. Taking it a step further than that, he called his friend over from the agency, the man called Jihoon, to be your second bodyguard because he believed that he was not functioning at his best.

Overall, it turns out to be a crazy, sleep deprived but exciting few days as you see all the pieces of the puzzle fall into its rightful place.

What is not exciting, however, is the straining relationship between you and your brother. After your confession to everything, he grows quieter and avoids talking with you unless it's absolutely necessary, which you understand and respect. He is processing the murder of his mother and his family members' participation in it and you also understand he feels betrayed because you kept so much information from him.

Still, it hurts.

This is why it is a surprise when you see him walk through the double doors to your office on a weekday morning as you were going through the legal statements of the company. "Chan!" You gasp, rising from your chair, eyes wide open in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He gives a half hearted shrug before sitting down on the couch by the floor to ceiling windows, his gaze focused on the skyline.  "I had some things to tell you." Okay... You chew on your lip as you walk over to him and take a seat in front of him. You watch your brother stare off into the distance out the window before he finally heaves a long sigh and looks at you. The sadness and exhaustion are clear in his eyes and it breaks your heart. This whole media circus has not been easy for him either, especially because he knew nothing of what was going on and the press attacked him like a bunch of piranhas.

"The week has been crazy for you." He states, matter of factly. 

You give him a small, sad smile. "Same goes for you."

"Yes. I am feeling a lot of emotions together however..." he stops for a second before boring his gaze at your eyes. "I cannot help but feel betrayed."

"Oh Chan—"

"No, it's okay." He holds up his hand, stopping you. "I know that was not your intention and it is not your fault. It is none of our fault. I feel betrayed by this... family, this situation. I feel so angry that all of this happened right under my nose and I—" he huffs, dragging a hand through his hair as his voice fades. "I knew nothing about it."

"It is not your fault."

"It kind of is." He grunts. "I...I should have been more careful, more aware—"

"You couldn't have prevented it, Chan. It would only get you hurt in the process."

"Exactly! It would and that's how it should be. We're a team, you and I. So I should be equally responsible but only you got hurt in this process. You have been carrying all this burden with you since the accident. Not to mention the crazy stunt at the cabin. Are you insane, _____? I saw the video and he had a gun for fucks sake!"

"So did I!" You admonish. "Besides, he wasn't going to shoot me."

"You couldn't be sure!"

You drag out a sigh in surrender as you admire your brother for a silent moment as he suddenly reminds you of Seungcheol. "Whatever it was, it's in the past and I am safe now. However, I am sorry. For lying to you, for keeping you in the dark."

"Yes, I am actually quite mad at you for acting mute in front of me." He narrows his gaze at your face. 

"Well at least you learned sign language because of it!"

He snorts and you chuckle, a more comfortable silence falling between the two of you as you stare at each other for a while with melancholic smile on your faces. After a while, he announces, "I am going away for a while."

"What? Where?" You gasp.

"I don't know where, actually. Somewhere with a beach and lots of sunshine maybe. Away from…here." He smiles faintly. "I just...I need to be away for a while and process everything and simply be in my own company. I just need some time, sis." Tears shine in your eyes. "I understand." You whisper.  You really do but it still pains you because you feel responsible for breaking his heart.

"Take all the time you need. I'll handle the business while you are gone."

"Good. I know you will manage it well, maybe even better than me," he gives you a smile, a real one that reflects the shine in his eyes and you mirror it back. He stands up, buttoning his suit jacket. "Oh, by the way, what is going on between you and your hunk of a bodyguard?"

"Hm? What do you mean?" You feign innocence, avoiding his gaze, surprised at his observation. "Oh please." He gives you an it-is-very-obvious look. "The chemistry between you two has been explosive from day one. You always have that dreamy look in your eyes when you look at him."

"I do not!" You gasp. "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night." He shakes his head in mirth. You huff out a dejected breath of surrender. "It doesn't matter anyway. He doesn't want me."

"Should I beat him up?" He asks casually, making you snort.

"You would lose, you know." You roll your eyes. That makes him laugh before he takes a step towards you. "I would deprive you of a hug but since you are already heartbroken, come here." 

You immediately get up and wrap your arms around your brother in a tight hug. You sniff, holding back tears as he pats you in the back, and you whisper. "I will miss you. Text me every now and then."

"Will do," he promises with a smile, pulling back and squeezing your shoulder. As he starts walking, he yells over his shoulder, "Do not think of getting married to that hunk while I'm not here though!"

"Yes, sir!" Rolling your eyes, you yell back and watch him walk out the double doors before plopping back on the couch, an eerie feeling of emptiness settling in your chest.

It takes a while for you to realise that tears are streaming down your face. Upon realisation, you simply hang your head low, letting them flow and stare at the floor, vision blurry as you play back the events of the last 6 months in your head. 

A soft knock at the door makes you snap your head up, breaking your trance as you quickly swipe your fingers below your eyes, head turning to see who enters. 

It's Seungcheol, composed in poise and grace as he steps inside before coming to a stand beside you. Silently, he asks for permission to sit, something you have told him multiple times not to do and when you give him a nod he takes a seat opposite to you. "You have been crying," he states quietly as he regards you with a knotted brow. You sigh and blink a couple of times before asking. "I'm fine now. What's the update? Any problems?"

He shakes his head. "Things are under good so far. You still need to give a formal statement at the fundraisers event next week, so you have to prepare for that."

"Hmm," you nod. "What brings you here, then? Are you feeling okay? I told you to take a day..." Your voice fades as you watch him produce a white rectangular envelope from his pocket and push it towards you on the table.

You have a sinking feeling in your chest that it is a resignation letter. 

"I am submitting my letter of resignation." He says, as calmly as ever, his eyes straight on yours. Your mouth opens but fails to deliver the words as you tilt your head to the side, processing this action. 

You have no problem with him resigning. In fact, you had planned to fire him after this hellish week ends so that you two could have a discussion about where your relationship stands, without all these professional restrictions limiting you. However, knowing Seungcheol, you have a sinking suspicion that he isn't quitting so that he can address his feelings for you but so that he can escape. 

Still, you decide to feign ignorance.

"Good. I was planning on firing you anyway. Not that you were bad at your job, you were the best but you need to rest, Seungcheol. And I have Jihoon now so I'll be fine." You nod as you pretend to go through his letter but inside, your hearts thuds so loudly you are afraid it will burst. 

"As of today, I am relieving you of your duties, Choi Seungcheol." You offer him a shaky smile. Seungcheol nods, his face as impassive as ever and you just cannot tell if he is heartbroken or relieved. His body language tells you that he is ready to get up and leave but you do not let that happen so easily.

"Now we can finally talk about our relationship." You speak, trying to keep your voice as stable as possible. Seungcheol visibly tenses as his face loses some of its colour and immediately you know this is not going to end well. 

But you are adamant on seeing this through.

"There is nothing to talk about." His voice is quiet, almost inaudible as he sits there looking like a petulant child lying to his parents. You have to take a deep breath to compose yourself. 

"You can do many things, Seungcheol but you cannot lie to me." You keep your voice as gentle as you can.

Your ex bodyguard seems to agree as he lets out a dejected sigh and stares at the floor very attentively. You watch him with intent for a few long moments, giving him time but ultimately when he remains as stubborn and unmoving as a mule, you break the silence. 

"I will lay all my cards on the table, Seungcheol, since you can't seem to do that. I have feelings for you, Seungcheol. Feelings that are very, very deep and real and I'm willing to act on them. Do what is necessary to make this work— make us work." 

He is quick to disagree. "Those feelings that you talk about, they are not love, ____. It is temporary. The last few weeks have been intense and it's just your body's natural reaction —"

"Do you love me, Choi Seungcheol?" You interrupt him, looking him straight in the eye.  The man looks like he swallowed a sock and you would feel bad for him, maybe even laugh at his reaction if the situation was not so dire.

"It does not matter." He looks away. You have the urge to hurl something at his head; the lamp next to you seems very tempting, but you fight it by clenching your fists a few times, trying to put yourself in his shoes.

"Seungcheol, I heard you that day in the cabin. I hear you now and I completely understand your fears. But I am here and we will work through them. It will take time but I'm ready, no matter how long it takes. I just want you, Seungcheol, and it kills me because I know you want me too yet you keep punishing yourself."

By now you have learned to read the man well and what might be easily overlooked by others comes into your notice; like how he clenches his fists and how his Adams apple bobs as he heavily swallows. The look in his eyes is that of a pure battle, one that he is fighting against himself and it's hard to watch. You are about to stand up and hold his hand when he suddenly moves onto his feet, his posture rigid as he glares down at you.

"I do not want you. What happened at the cabin was a mere moment of weakness. And you don't want me either, ______. You will soon realize it."

This gaslighting asshole!

"So you are going to lie to yourself till the very end?" You hiss, standing up and stepping closer to him, meeting his eyes with an equal glare.  "If anyone is lying to themselves here, it is you." He spits. "Our relationship was supposed to be professional from the start. I am a bodyguard and you are merely one of my protectees. Let us end it that way." He takes a step back while you watch him with a flabbergasted expression at his audacity. He uses your moment of weakness to say. "It was nice working with you. Hopefully, you won't need me again. Goodbye, Ms. Lee." The next moment he is pushing past you as his footsteps echo on the cold marble floor, the sound similar to that of your heart as it cracks.

"If you walk away now, I will never forgive you, Seungcheol!" You yell, voice cracking as tears gather in your eyes, your gaze focused outside the window, your back facing him. No reaction comes from behind you except for the footsteps which come to a halt. 

"Do you really want to end it like this?" Your whisper is followed by silence but through the eerie quietness in the room, you know the words reach him well.

His reply comes a few seconds later, in the form of footsteps that echo farther and farther away from you followed by the sound of the door opening and then closing and then utter silence. —

The fundraiser's event is going in full swing, bustling with people when you arrive. Draped in a red silk dress and diamond jewellery you look like a million bucks but in reality you feel nothing like that and you have no desire to be here whatsoever. But you know it is necessary to make an appearance as the host because it is extremely important to show up after the scandal to assure everyone that things are going well. Except they are not. While your professional life has slowly started getting back to its normal place your personal life has plummeted because all that you have done in the past week is mope around and curse your ex bodyguard and bitch about him to your current one, Jihoon.

The best way you can describe Jihoon is a grumpy cat. He talks very little but whenever he does, he's always huffing and complaining. But you see his softer side peek through from the little acts he does for you like making sure you eat your meals properly, checking up on you after your crying session and preparing all your documents and briefing you every morning. His tsundere antics and his silent company have probably been the only driving force that has kept you sane after Seungcheol dumped you.

The event is taking place in a banquet hall in the city centre and once inside, Jihoon guides you to a private resting room where you get ready for the opening speech. "I don't think I will stay till dinner. It is okay I leave after the speech, no?" You ask Jihoon as you finish revising the script. "Maybe mingle with people a little bit. Behave like a human instead of a broken hearted ghost" he offers, his tone dry as usual. You sigh and shake your head at his reply as you smooth your dress and step forward, waiting for the emcee to call you on stage.

Once on stage, you stand behind the podium, the tireless flashes from the cameras giving you a headache and you have to try your very best to plaster a smile on your face as you greet the guests and start your speech. Jihoon stands a few feet away from you on the stage, his eyes scanning the crowd carefully as he receives constant updates in his Bluetooth. However, not even two minutes into your speech, a man causes commotion as he tries to get on the stage, yelling some nonsense about how you are a fraud and a money launderer. You are baffled as you watch the security planted at the perimeter of the stage get a hold of him and drag him out while whispers and murmurs echo among the guests.

"He looks drunk," Jihoon says as he steps close to you to make sure you are alright. "Ignore him. He shouldn't have been allowed inside. I will have a talk with—" He pauses midway in his sentence as eyes focus on something behind you, on the other side of the stage, his pupils widening. You can barely process the change in his expression before he tugs you away and shields you with his body as you two roll off the stage.

The next moment, an explosion echoes through the air. There is a ringing in your ears as Jihoon covers you, the echoes of the blast intensifying the headache you already had. You feel disoriented as Jihoon helps you to stand up and ushers you towards the resting room backstage while you hear screams echoing from the guests, their heavy footsteps scattering all over. "Wha- what is going on?" You cry, confused as Jihoon shoves you inside the room. "It is your cousin, Jun."  What!

"Lock the door. His men have blocked the exits. I need to clear them before I come get you. Do not open this door, is that clear?" He orders you and before you can form a reply, he is gone. Confused, scared and exhausted, you fall onto the ground, head in your hands as you fail to wrap your head around the situation. Of course, you knew your cousin was sour after his father's arrest but you never thought he would go this far. What is he thinking? What does he want?

You hear commotion spread outside, things crashing and even a few gunshots. As you step closer to the door to get a better listen there is a loud bang, as if someone is trying to break in.

Absolutely terrified, you step back, frantic eyes looking around the small space for a weapon.

If you knew the night would end up like this you would have brought a fucking gun with you.

Speaking of guns, a gunshot echoes through the air, making you duck your head as you scream. Another gunshot rings through the air and you realise whoever is on the other side is trying to come inside.

You can only pray it is not your fucking cousin, who is a maniac, apparently.

A broad, mean looking thug bursts through the door just as it opens and when his eyes land on you, he points his gun at your head. "Do not think of doing anything smart, woman. If you don't want me to blow your face off, you do as I fucking tell you to." Swallowing, you nod, holding your hands up in surrender.

So this is how it goes down, huh.

The man produces a handcuff from his pocket and tosses it towards you. "Put it on your hands! Now!" With shaky hands, you pick it up and just as you are about to fasten it around one of your wrists, there is a gunshot. You are sure you have been shot as you shut your eyes tight but start to think otherwise when seconds pass and you still feel your heartbeat.

Peeking open one eye you see the thug slumped over on the floor, a clean bullet hole on the back of his head. And in the doorframe, stands Seungcheol, a gun in his hand.

Choi Seungcheol.

Wait, what? How?

Your brain is struggling to catch up as you blink again and again to make sure of his presence. Indeed, he stands there, dressed in a black suit and tie, specks of red on his white shirt as he pants heavily.

What on god's green earth—

"Come on, you need to get out!" He yells, stepping inside the room, reaching for your hand and dragging you outside with him.  You cannot get a word out as you let him lead you, absolutely thunderstruck because of his sudden presence.

What the fuck is he doing here? How did he even know what was going on?

You are so baffled that you cannot speak these thoughts out, simply following him as he carefully guides you towards the exit, his gun drawn in alertness. Just as the backyard of the venue comes into view and Seungcheol is about to usher you outside, you hear a voice yelling from the other side of the hall.

It is your cousin's voice. "Let me go you fucking assholes! I am gonna blow that bitch myself! I am gonna tear her up into fucking pieces! How dare she take what is mine! That's slut! I am gonna…" 

Seungcheol almost pushes you to move as you get stuck in a trance of his mean words. "It is okay, Jihoon has him. Come on."

As if you are functioning on autopilot, you let him guide you outside into the open field and underneath a small sitting area where fresh air finally hits you, letting you breathe in a lungful. Seungcheol informs the other security about the update over his comms as you watch him in silence. When he is done, his eyes finally meet yours and in an instant everything that had gone down in the last month flashes through your head, giving you goosebumps. 

There is a moment of silence as you watch him with a blank expression while he looks around uncomfortably. Finally, he decides to break the silence with a chuckle. "I leave you for a few days and this is what happens?" 

His tone is full of amusement. The nerve of this man. You, however, find none of this amusing. It gets your blood boiling as you hear him say the words, your brain finally registering everything and you simply cannot hold yourself back anymore. The next thing you do is strike a clean, sharp slap on his cheek which catches him off guard as he stumbles a few steps back. His eyes widen in shock, his hand moving to cup the cheek which is turning bright red, like your palm.

You poured your heart and soul and all your pent up emotions into that slap so you pray it stings like a bitch.

Your hand does for sure.

"I deserved that-" Seungcheol starts to speak, holding up his hands but the moment he opens his mouth you are on him again as you grab him by the collars, triggered, "How dare you come here, you scum!" You hiss, tugging at the fabric of his collars while a bewildered Seungcheol tries to gently pry you off of him. "How dare you have the audacity to show up after everything you said?"

"_____, you are gonna hurt yourself—"

"You quit! You made it clear that you had no interest in me, Seungcheol! So what gives you the right to come here and save me, huh?" You are seething, emotions so strong you feel like choking and if you were a cartoon character, visible steam would be coming out of your ears.

"_____, please—"

"Who gave you the right to be a hero, huh? What made you come here? Tell me! Talk, you asshole!" You yell, shaking him, tugging on his collars repeatedly as a wild rage takes over you.

You are going to murder him.

"Because I am in love with you!" He yells back, making your grip falter for a second which he uses to quickly free himself, taking a few steps back as you stare wide eyed at him, panting.

When you finally get enough air in your lungs and process his words, really process them, your wry laugh echoes through the cold night air like mockery. "Fuck you, Seungcheol. I have had enough of your bullshit." You spit, pushed to your limits.

God, give me patience.

"I know," he whispers, taking a step closer while you take one back. "I understand what I have done and I do not expect you to forgive me at all. I just need you to know that I fucking love you and I am so fucking sorry. I know I am late but I am here to stay—"

"No you are not," You snap. "Get the hell away from me before I take a gun and fucking shoot you." 

"If that's what will make you happy..." Seungcheol calmly reaches for his gun as you watch him, alarmed. He takes it off of the holster and holds it out towards you. "Shoot me as many times as you want. I deserve it.

This fucking man—

"Guys, can we do this weird foreplay somewhere else," Jihoon yells from behind you as you spin to see him jogging towards you two. "You need to get out of here, _____. He's saying that there are still explosives in this compound."

"What!" You shriek but before you can get another word out, Seungcheol is grabbing your hand and dragging you with him as he starts sprinting. "Keep me updated," he addresses Jihoon who nods, talking into the comm to get a car at the rear entrance for you.

"Let go, you asshole!" You hiss, trying to pry his fingers off your wrist which proves to be a challenge while running full speed in high heels. "God damn it, Seungcheol, I will fall!" And you almost do so, as you misstep and stumble but the man is quick to catch you and before you can even think, he is throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  "Put me down, you pig!"

"As soon as we get to the car, angel."

Which is quick, thankfully, because the next moment he is putting you down and holding the passenger side door open for you and despite wanting to resist him, you know the wise idea is to leave right now.  As soon as you are inside the car, he shuts the door before running to the other side and before you can even put your seatbelt on, the car is moving.

"Jihoon will be fine, right?" You ask half mindedly as you turn your head back to look at the venue which gets smaller every passing second. "He will be fine," Seungcheol grunts. "The police have been informed as well as the bomb disposal team." "What about my cousin?" Seungcheol remains quiet for a moment, only staring ahead on the road. "Him? He's  alive, unfortunately."

"What do you mean?" You ask warily.

"I shot him. The bullet hit his abdomen. He won't die, don't worry. That depraved asshole doesn't deserve that mercy." You sigh, rubbing your temples as you lean back into your seat. "What the hell was he thinking?"

"He wanted to hurt you, humiliate you, _____. He had plans to hurt you horribly." Seungcheol huffs out a breath, shaking his head and clenching his jaw. "He has gone insane." That is all he provides, making you fall silent for a moment. "When will this stop." You whisper to yourself. "I never considered him to be a threat."

"I should have. You locked up his father and made sure he could never take over the company. He was a huge threat that I failed to notice." He murmurs.

"Don't start, Seungcheol," you snap at him, irritated. "I'm still tempted to shoot you. Your duty was over the moment you handed in the resignation letter and walked out of my life."

"My biggest mistake." He whispers to himself but you hear it. 

Tired, frustrated, scared and angry, you decide not to engage in this conversation further as you look out the window and wonder what is coming next.  Another media storm for sure.  More interrogations, more meetings with your lawyer.  At the same time, however, the edge that you have been feeling for the last week is gone. The fact that your cousin never came up to you or tried to retaliate his father's arrest in any way made you wonder but it never occurred to you that he could turn violent, insane. 

Jun was after all a puppet, who only did things after his father made the way for him his whole life.

Today was a different case, it looks like. Anyhow, it is somewhat of a win for you because you miraculously got out unscathed and the threat has been neutralised. However, you are sure many have been injured and your reputation has taken a severe hit today. The upcoming months will be very hard, harder than before…

The next coherent thought that comes upon you is that you fell asleep. You open your eyes realising that the car has stopped and the time on the dashboard says about thirty minutes have passed. Blinking, you shift in your seat and find Seungcheol, sitting next to you, watching you with a look that is foreign on his face, something close to adoration. Clearing your throat, you remove your seatbelt and sit up straight.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Not long enough. We just got here." He announces as he moves to open his door. "Come on, let's go inside."

Once you are out of the car, you realise Seungcheol has taken you to a five star hotel and seeing the confusion on your face, he explains. "It's safer here. Can't take any more risks tonight."

He casually slips his hand into yours, making you frown and drags you towards the hotel. Your tired body cannot put up much of a fight so you follow him begrudgingly and you are quickly escorted to the penthouse suite thanks to his prior booking.

Upon entering the suite you walk straight to the master bedroom where the king sized bed calls for your tired self as you sit down and take off your heels, throwing them away on the carpet over the floor with a soft thud, exhaling a loud sigh. Seungcheol follows you and remains quiet as you sit in silence at the edge of the bed, too wired, too disoriented to do anything. Normally, after everything that happened with your uncle your decision making skills have significantly sharpened but having Seungcheol near you, his stupid confession ringing in your head is fucking with your brain. And as if that goddamn man can read your mind, he kneels in front of you on the floor, one of his hands softly touching your knees as he utters. "You need to rest, ______. I will handle everything else. It is all under control now, trust me."

"Why do you do this?" You croak, pushed to the limits of exhaustion, your eyes trained somewhere in an unfocused gaze as you fidget with your hands. "Why do you push me away and then come back running at a time like this?"

He is silent for a long time while you fight to keep your tears at bay.

You will not cry in front of him.

"I am sorry." He only whispers, his fingers softly stroking your knee as his head lowers and his gaze falls down on the floor. "I was foolish and...scared. That night after we slept together you…you said out loud you loved me and I panicked. I was— I am a danger to you. But being away from you for a week was a pain unlike anything else. I went back to that cabin and I slept in your bed and the sheets had the faintest of your smell. Weirdly, your scent and everything you left behind soothed me and I didn't have any nightmares in the past week. But every morning I woke up and there was a sinking feeling in my stomach that only grew each day until I couldn't bear it. I realised that you really were an angel who saved me, brought lightness back into my life, and gave me a new purpose, a new dream. I realised what an idiot I was and I came to the city on Wednesday night. Believe me when I tell you that my intention was to just stay away and make sure you are okay. I knew what I had done and I was in no way worthy of showing up in front of you but I had to intervene tonight, _____. Your life was in danger."

The air conditioner in your room suddenly feels chillier as goosebumps prickle your skin, making you shiver. Seungcheol takes notice of it and stands up quickly to take off his jacket before draping it over your shoulders. He stands in front of you in silence, fingers hovering over your now covered shoulders while you stare at his shoes, your head going blank but also running a mile a minute. The frustration and overwhelmingness bleed together until you can't tell one emotion separate from another.

All of a sudden, Seungcheol's thumbs caress your cheeks while the rest of his fingers softly cup your jaw and it is only then that you realise you have been silently crying. He oh so gently wipes your cheek dry while uttering, "Please don't cry. I know I hurt you. I promise I will leave as soon as I make sure you are going to be okay." Instantly, a part inside your brain is flooded with panic as it screams no. You don't want him to leave when you remember how hard the past week was on you and how many times a day you would revisit that night in the cabin, the moment you two shared and how it proved to be the anchor for you throughout everything that happened after.

You were— are mad at him but you still want him near, crazy is it not?

You keep thinking of how safe you felt the moment Seungcheol found you in tonight's chaos, how just his presence made you fall asleep so easily when for the last week you could not fall asleep without the fear of nightmares.

Yes, they have returned. But you don't see the accident anymore, you see your uncle chasing you around the cabin while you call for Seungcheol but he doesn't come, no matter how much you beg.

And after tonight, you wonder what more nightmares await you. So when you utter the one, very powerful word, you tell yourself that you are doing this for yourself, to be selfish and not for him, which is not a lie entirely. 

"No."

Your left hand reaches to grab the fabric of his shirt and you fist it tightly in your hand. "Don't leave."  You don't dare to look at him, scared you will break once you do and instead focus your gaze on the patterns of the carpet while holding onto his shirt. The next moment Seungcheol is sitting next to you and in the moment after he gently wraps his arms around you, your head falling perfectly against his shoulder while your arms snake around his waist after a moment's hesitation. 

His warm touch soothes your back as his other hand cups the back of your head, softly stroking it with his thumb. A small whimper comes from your mouth as quiet sobs escape from you and you hide your face and weep, trying to stifle the sounds.

"I am so sorry, _____. I am sorry for everything." Seungcheol whispers, voice thick with emotion. "I will make everything better, I promise. I will stay as long as you need me and then… " There is a moment of heavy pause. "When you don't, I will follow you around like a lost puppy for the rest of my life." Thinking about the rest of your life and not having Seungcheol in it makes you sob harder and if you had energy you would scream at him and tell him to just shut up. Instead, you cry, cry your heart out, promising yourself that from tomorrow you won't. 

Tomorrow another battle begins. 

As the night grows deeper, Seungcheol holds you tighter and your sobs gradually fade and before you know it you fall asleep on his shoulder. Seungcheol stays still for a while longer to make sure you don't wake up before gently picking up your sleeping form and setting you down on the bed, fixing the pillow underneath your head and covering you with a blanket. Despite his desire to crawl into bed and sleep next to you, he resists it and instead takes the loveseat in front of the window, where he sits and watches your peacefully sleeping form, before falling asleep himself with a heart full of gratitude.

— You watch the steam from the mug evaporate into the air before taking a small sip. The tea is slightly bitter and hot, just as you need it.

After waking up and taking a quick shower, here you sit, by the window of your penthouse suite, sipping tea, treating yourself to a quiet peaceful moment before your hectic day, which you are frankly not prepared for, begins. 

You woke up to an empty suite, with no sign of Seungcheol and it almost made you wonder if last night was an entire elaborate dream. But then you found his tie lying on the loveseat which acted as a reassurance of his presence, weirdly bringing solace to you. 

After waking up, you realised your phone's battery is dead, which became another source of peace for you, because you know otherwise, it would have been blowing up with calls and you wouldn't have gotten the good night's sleep that you got. 

There's a sudden sound of the door opening that alerts you, making you crane your neck to see the visitor. Seungcheol walks in, dressed completely differently from last night, looking delicious in a light blue polo and white pants. On his hands are two shopping bags and behind him is a hotel staff member who pushes in a huge breakfast trolley. "Good morning, _____." Seungcheol meets your eye as he sets down the shopping bags on the edge of the bed and thanks the staff as he takes his leave.  You watch Seungcheol take off the lids covering the food while speaking, "Breakfast is here. I have asked for a bit of everything you like. And I have got new clothes and some necessities for you. They are in the bag," He points to the general direction as he starts stacking pancakes on a plate for you. You are quite surprised and flattered and you cannot come up with anything else to say but, "Thank you."

For some weird reason, you feel shy and awkward around him as if you are a newborn fawn. Maybe it is because none of you are addressing the elephant in the room; last night's conversation and instead acting like you have known each other for years. "It's my pleasure," he smiles at you, a genuine smile that shows his dimples and makes your heart gallop like a horse. Handing you the plate, he takes a comfortable seat in the chair in front of you and watches you dig in, a look you can only describe as fondness sitting on his face. Feeling shy, you cover your mouth as you chew. "Stop looking at me." 

"You look a bit tired. Did you not sleep well?" He asks suddenly.  "I had a good sleep, thank you." You inform, surprised how he noticed.  You have been feeling a little sick after you woke up despite having a very good night's rest. A headache has been creeping up on your temples but you are trying hard to ignore it because this is not the time to get sick.

You have a long day ahead of you.

Making you jerk, Seungcheol places his palm on your forehead out of the blue as he checks your temperature and an unpleasant look settles on his face. "You are getting a fever." "No, I'm not." You direct your focus on cutting your pancakes, using too much pressure. Ignoring you, the man dials a number on his phone and asks for some cold medicine to be brought to the hotel room to whoever is on the other side. "I just told you, I am fine." You frown, annoyed. He hangs up and stares at you as if you are speaking a different language. "You are not. You need to take the medicine and get some rest."

"Now is not the time for me to sleep! Do not play doctor!" You snap, setting the plate down with a loud bang as you clutch the fork and knife tightly in your hand. Seungcheol does not react to your outburst but simply changes position as he comes to sit next to you.

"Your cousin is in custody. I talked with your lawyer this morning, he is preparing everything well. There is no way he is getting off. Jihoon and his men already testified to the police so you do not have to meet with them unless you want to add something. If you do, I will arrange a phone call with the station. The legal department is working on a statement and it will be released today in a press conference. The CFO will read it out." He informs, casually. 

"You are sick, _____. And it's okay .You went through a lot. It is okay if you take a break today. No one is asking you to go out there and face the demons. You need to rest. Your body is asking for it." 

His voice softens as one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh gently. The assurance in his voice paired with the tenderness in his eyes makes you swallow a lump in your throat and blink back tears. "Still..."

"Finish your breakfast." He says as he reaches for the plate while taking the fork and knife out of your hand and cutting it into bite sized pieces. "And you should probably call your brother today, by the way. The news of last night's events will reach him sooner or later and I think it would be best if he heard it from you."

You nod, feeling sad. Chan just left for a vacation one week ago. When he hears about this, he will definitely catch the next flight home.

"If you do not want to call him, I can do it for you." Seungcheol offers as he finishes his task and hands the plate and cutlery back to you.

"No, I will do it." You murmur and silently go back to eating. Seungcheol watches you in silence for the rest of the meal and after you are done, the staff returns to clean up and drops your medicines. You take them and then sit in your bed idly, watching the city skyline through your window, trying not to overthink anything. You can hear Seungcheol talk over the phone in the other room before he steps back into the master bedroom to check up on you.

"If you feel too sick, let me know. I will take you to the hospital." 

You softly nod and turn your head to look at him. He appears worried, his eyes glazed with concern, his brows forming a knot as if he's trying to read you. After a moment, you silently motion him to come sit by you on the bed which he diligently follows. 

His hands reach out to hold yours, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he gazes into your eyes, leaning closer to you, his eyes searching for something in yours. His bangs fall forward, cupping his temples and you itch to brush them away.  "Tell me what you are thinking." He whispers.

"You have pretty hair." You reply honestly and he chuckles, shaking his head before his face becomes serious.  "I missed you." His voice is low, almost inaudible as his gaze falls down to your linked hands, as if he is ashamed to meet your eyes when saying that. "I missed you too." You reply honestly, once again. Seungcheol seems surprised to hear that and you cannot help but roll your eyes.

"Oh please, Choi Seungcheol. Don't act like you had no idea." Your head rests against the headboard as you make yourself comfortable and scowl at him. "You knew very well how much effect you had on me and you knew damn well how much I loved you."

"Loved me?"

"Okay, love you—"

"Wait, no— you...love me? Really? You didn't say it that night in the heat of the moment?" You only realise then how you just casually spat it out, again, and immediately, heat blooms on your face. You avoid his gaze, snatching your hands from his grip while he looks absolutely stunned.

"Whatever." You mutter, scooting down on the bed, reaching to grab the sheets and hide yourself in them but Seungcheol stops you as he cages you between his arms, his face hovering dangerously close to yours, his perfume and aftershave blending into an addictive scent that makes your brain hazy with need.

Control yourself, woman! "Answer me. You love me?" "Ugh, you heard me the first time," you groan, trying to twist away from him but he stops you by cupping your chin and making you face him. 

"Wanna know something?" He whispers, inching his face closer.

"What?" You are breathless.

"I love you too, ____." He replies, his lips ghosting over yours. You anticipate a kiss but he doesn't, instead tucks your hair behind your ear as he whispers in your ear. "I am so deeply, madly in love with you it is embarrassing."

The words are music to your ears and your insides swoon as you close your eyes and relish them, pressing your lips tight to prevent yourself from breaking into a maniacal grin. Seungcheol shifts his weight back and rests himself on his one palm as his other hand softly cups your face. "And I am sorry, once again, for what I did to you."

"Good but I am still mad." You try your best to appear stern.

"I know." His expression is solemn. "I plan on making it up to you until my dying breath."

When did he become so romantic?

"You may start by cuddling me," you whisper, almost shy, carefully watching his reaction. He immediately proceeds to get under the sheets with you and carefully engulfs you into his large arms, your face resting against his solid chest as his hand strokes your hair soothingly. Your arms move to snake around his waist as you feel yourself relax, his arms feeling like the safest, most comfortable place in the entire universe and you never, ever want to leave.

"I love you, Seungcheol." Your voice is muffled against his chest.

"I love you more, angel. So much more."

1 month later 

The view around the cabin is just as pretty as you remember it. The setting sun of dusk casts it in a beautiful glow which you stop and stand to admire. 

Beside you, Seungcheol finishes parking the jeep and unloads the overnight bags from the trunk. 

"What are you looking at?" He asks when he comes to stand next to you, fishing for keys from his pocket in one hand.

"It's very beautiful." You murmur, eyes glancing over the view before settling down on the man next to you. He is dressed in a grey t-shirt, his blond hair looking as gorgeous as ever, if not more in the golden hour and you know, he is undoubtedly the epitome of beauty. 

Seungcheol meets your stare with equal sincerity as he reaches to hold your hand, whispering. "Yes, it is." You know he is talking about you.

A light, gleeful laugh escapes your lips as you playfully push him with your shoulder. He grins and drags you with him inside the cabin.

It is hard to believe that this place was a crime scene about a month ago. Seungcheol did some thorough renovations and now the place looks more beautiful, cozier than ever.

As much as your heart wishes to stay in this little piece of green heaven forever, this is a small weekend getaway that Seungcheol organised and initiated by picking you up early from work today. You did not complain because the past few weeks were tough.

Getting your company back together after the fundraiser's incident and making sure you are still in the market is taking a lot of well thought plans and manpower and instructions. You have help, of course, from Chan who immediately rushed home from his vacation when he heard about Jun's attack on you. Seungcheol also has been helping you a lot, though you officially denied him the position of your bodyguard. 

He then started working as a security consultant at his friend's company and has been assisting you however he could throughout the past month. He also started therapy again and so far his progress is remarkable. He is a lot less self sabotaging and he has not had a nightmare ever since you got back together, much like you. Not to mention he has been working extra hard to make it up to you, always catering to your every little need and never asking for anything in return or initiating anything, even though you have noticed multiple times how his eyes trail you around hungrily. 

So far, you have only rewarded him with kisses because it was too much fun to watch him silently suffer.  However, you plan to change that this weekend.

"Let's watch the sunset together," you propose as Seungcheol drops your bags in the bedroom. He agrees and you two walk back outside to the patio, hands linked where you stand and gaze at the setting sun. Seungcheol's arms wrap around you protectively from behind and his chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

"We need to get groceries." He murmurs absentmindedly as he presses a soft kiss on your neck that makes you sigh in pleasure. You hum, offering that you could just order takeout. As the sun dips beneath the horizon, Seungcheol takes occasional peeks at your face, admiring the mesmerised look in your eyes. His heart beats loudly, wild in love as he imagines the rest of his life with you and how it would be to watch you watch the sunset.

Delightful. Like the delightful secret he is hiding. A huge secret that has been burning holes in his pocket for a month.  After the night of the attack, the next morning when he went to shop for your clothes at the mall, a ring caught his eye in a jewellery store and he purchased it right there, intent on putting it on your finger someday.

He has been carrying it ever since, waiting for the perfect moment to get down on one knee.  Maybe this weekend will carry that moment, maybe not.

Either way, it is fine. He is not in a rush. He knows he will get down on one knee when he deems himself worthy enough of you. Though, logically it might never happen because no one is worthy of a person as beautiful, as amazing as you. But he will work very hard to be worthy of you, now and every day that he has on this planet. Seungcheol smiles to himself, agreeing that he's a very lucky bastard. "Cheol?" You call him by his nickname, breaking his train of thought. "Hm?" "I love you." You whisper. His next words are the sweetest serenade. "I love you more, angel."

A/N: If you have made it this far, congratulations and a huge thank you for taking the time to read this mammoth of a fic! I genuinely put my blood, sweat and tears into this and believe me when I tell you that my wrists hurt like hell. Still, I am glad I could share this with the world and I'm very proud of myself for successfully putting the conjectural idea from my head to the paper. It took a lot of time to come up with the idea, finalize it and stitch the pieces together so please leave a review and reblog! Your thoughts and comments really make my day. Wishing you a happy October! As a side note, I am swearing off of writing fics over 20k words. When I tell you that this app whopped my ass while posting this! My god! I was seriously considering breaking it into two parts. If you are reading this now that means I have hopefully posted it without trouble. Anyway, toodles!

© startlightxsvt 2023 | All rights reserved. Do not copy, repost, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

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are you me??? I just started reading it too, a couple of days back, on episode 77 right now

ok i should Not have gone through the omniscient reader tag because i was immediately hit with spoilers and i literally started reading it only yesterday 💔

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JOSHUA MUSIC BANK / 211022

✧.* svt hiphop unit as seasons:

synopsis: seventeen hip hop unit as the seasons  

warning/s: mentions of kissing

genre/s: svt! hhu x reader, fluff.

note/s: nothing rlly, have a good weekend besties. luv u.

seungcheol:

fall. the cozy warm nights sharing a blanket under the stars, roasting (burning) marshmallows, kissing with the taste of s'mores still lingering on your tongue. the sound of crunching leaves underfoot as you ran through the park eager to grab cider from your favorite cafe. cloudy morning skies waking up next to the person of your dreams as you make him breakfast in bed and stare out your window onlooking the fall trees changing color, a metamorphosis reminding you of the future with him. every time that fall came it would prompt you to remember the time you, much like the leaves, fell in love.

wonwoo:

winter. seeing your breath in the air as you laugh, while bundled up to go build a snowman. the way his glasses fogged as he breathed into his scarf, clearly braving the cold to make you happy, you always wiped them off with your mittens, as you planted a warm kiss on his pink lips, turning them the color of strawberries. seeking shelter with him inside your cozy home, drinking hot chocolate, and holding each other under the blanket while you read a book out loud. you loved the way the color came back to his cheeks when he warmed back up from holding you inside of your jacket. you reminded him of snowflakes coming down from the sky. different, but uniquely your own.

mingyu:

summer. sun kissed skin throwing you over his shoulder and throwing you off the dock into the water. the cabin you rented being too small for his large frame but perfect to keep the two of you sheltered from mosquito bites. fresh squeezed lemonade, tart with the sweet aftertaste. music playing while you kiss under the stars, resting in the long grass. summer nights filled with fireflies and childlike wonder as you sit watching the calm lake that you were swimming in hours before. fireworks bursting through the night sky, an electric show, much like the feeling you get looking over at him, sparks.

vernon:

spring. flowers blooming, the trees regaining their green, the sound of sining birds whispering in your ear while you sit on a picnic blanket. holding hands as you walk down a path of cherry blossom trees, watching all the couples taking photos. kids and their families running around the park excited to take in the spring air. sprinting through the sudden rain storm and finding a small cove to hideout in as it pours, but he grabs your hand as you continue running in the direction of your home never missing the chance to dance in the rain with you. carrying you inside and running a warm bubble bath that smells of lavender so you don't catch a cold. finishing your night by placing a new batch of freshly bloomed flowers on your coffee table, lighting a candle, and holding him while watching a movie.

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SEUNGKWAN ✸ AMAZING SATURDAY for my favorite boosadan, @donghyuckkies ❤❤

@sakuraslibrary

A Marriage of Inconvenience : k.dy

pairing: writer!doyoung x reader

genres: victorian au, arranged marriage au, strangers to lovers, angst & fluff

length: 22.5k

warnings: arranged marriage, alcohol, it gets a bit steamy at some points and is kinda suggestive, sexism - please bear in mind this is set in the 19th century (& let me know if i’ve missed any spelling mistakes)

playlist: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

description: you had thought love was easy: find a man you like and who likes you, marry him, then spend the rest of your lives together. except it never really is that easy, not when things go wrong.

tag list: @leejunini

a/n: i am in love with this header, done by @minyusa​. there are a thousand things i could say about this fic, but i’ll skip all that and just say thank you @nanakyun0j0​ & @doiedreams​ especially for taking the time to beta read this.

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You suppose the thing you will miss most about London is the fact the city never sleeps.

For London is like the stars, available only when certain conditions are met. All your life, you have dreamed about the moment you’ll be able to step foot into the city and stay there, if only for a few months. 

But that time has come and gone like a beautiful dream. 

The candles that decorate the ballroom which have thrice been relighted by a steward serve as a reminder to you just how long you have been here for. With every flicker of the flame, the night crawls slowly onward and within a few hours carriages will begin to depart, concluding the penultimate ball of the social season.

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LOVE Fan Meeting @ Tokyo