sweethyune - Tumblr blog

sweethyune · 5 months

Text

cupid’s arrow...

group: stray kids !

pairing: cupid!hwang hyunjin x human f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, suggestive

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, hyunjin is referred to as jin, jinnie, hyune, blood, suggestive, hickies, love bites, kissing, unrequited love (until its not), hyunjin has wings, non-con photos as a joke (not sexual), lovers in denial, lots of crying, nudity, hyunjin gets sick, hyunjin can fly :0

authors note: hyunjin gives off such romantic vibes so i literally HAD to write this. sorry its kinda sucky, it wasnt exactly what i had envisioned... this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 4903

fuck. why aren’t they working?

hyunjin shoots another arrow in a desperate attempt to save your failing relationship. nothing happens.

“please don’t leave… i love you.”, he begs.

you pry his hand off of you gently. “i’m sorry, i don’t see anything between us anymore”

he nods sadly in acceptance, watching as you exit the coffee shop.

your heart feels like it’s being wrung dry, why does it never work out for you? you walk home in the rain, you know you deserve it. you can’t keep breaking people’s hearts.

why is it so easy to be loved, but so difficult to love back?

“sweetheart… please? you don’t have to do this.”

you should probably quit dating, you know it. you hadn’t lost hope yet, but at this point, you’re holding on by a thread. not a single romantic relationship in your life has ended well.

hyunjin shoots an arrow, but it phases right through you. he tries another angle in a desperate attempt, but it just won’t stick.

“i just don’t… i don’t love you. and i don’t know why”

he frowns at you, giving you one last hug before he leaves. “i’m sorry, y/n”

your entire heart shatters once again, there’s no reason he should be apologizing to you.

“why?”

he runs his fingers through your hair, “i wasn’t good enough”

you can feel the light sobs racking his body, and you finally pull away. “you’re amazing… i promise. find someone who actually deserves you, yeah?”

he can’t bring himself to talk, and he only nods, turning around and finally leaving for good.

you walk over to your bed, flopping onto it. you don’t delete his number, as much as you want to. it feels like a storm cloud sits above you, and only you.

that’s it. you’ve given up. love isn’t real. you’re convinced.

from then on, you haven’t been searching at all. so many confessions from so many people, yet you turn them all down.

even if you like them, or find them attractive in the slightest, you can’t do it to yourself, or them. you can’t put them through the pain of a one-sided relationship, and you couldn’t break another relationship off.

hyunjin has been drifting near, trying to find anyone that may bring your heart back, but he couldn’t find anyone.

as much as he tried, none of the arrows stuck. he’s growing tired of his job, watching over you is a struggle when you refuse to fall in love. how could such a beautiful woman like you not be dating someone?

it’s been the same cycle since you graduated high school. hyunjin has been growing alongside you, just after he graduated, this has been his job.

he’s had enough. he has to figure out a plan.

you finish your shower, finally planning on relaxing at home on your little break. you scroll through your phone, looking at the hundreds of couples that litter your instagram feed.

you can’t help but smile when you see your ex, taehyun. there’s a post of him with his girlfriend on a little dinner date, you’re happy he’s found someone that truly deserves him.

you’re lost in your thoughts, until you hear a crash from the kitchen. you snap back up, grabbing the crowbar that you keep in the closet and walking towards the kitchen.

you exit your room, checking to see what was going on.

what. the. fuck.

you scream, throwing the crowbar at the strange- man? bug? fairy?!- in your kitchen. he catches it swiftly, right before it can hit the window behind him.

“what the fuck!? who are you?! why are you in my house!?”

you couldn’t stop the questions from spilling out. why was there a man flying in your fucking kitchen? he lowers himself down onto the floor, walking over to you cautiously.

“you can… see me?”

you screech. “am i not supposed to? are you a fucking fairy or something?! why do you have wings?”

he puts a finger over your mouth to get you to quiet down, motioning to lower your volume. you pry his hand off your face, “don’t touch me!”, you yell out.

well, so much for quieting down…

“i’m a cupid. you’re not supposed to be able to see me, y/n.”

you look at him, eyes widening. “yeah, right, you’re cupid. now how the fuck do you know my name, cupid?”

he sighs, “theres billions of cupids, y/n. each one is assigned to a person, and i’m assigned to you. my name is hyunjin.”

you walk up to him, trying your best to look intimidating. “oh yeah? where are your arrows then?”

he snaps his fingers, a black arrow appearing in his hands. the head drips with a shimmery pink liquid, but you’re not sure what is it.

you snatch the arrow away from him, “no! give it back, it could hurt you!”

you roll your eyes, “what, this? it probably doesn’t even work. look!”

you jab the arrowhead into your arm, expecting it to be some flimsy plastic. it pierces your skin, the pink liquid being injected into each and every one of your veins.

hyunjin looks at you, wide eyed, clearly afraid. this has never happened to anyone before, no one’s been able to see a cupid.

the pink liquid starts seeping out of you, and hyunjin comes back to his senses. he takes the arrow out of your arm where you’ve jabbed it into, it’s never supposed to puncture the skin so deep.

“y/n?! are you okay?!”

you giggle, “hmm… feels good…”

he picks you up, checking your face for any signs or discomfort or pain. he sees nothing except for a lopsided smile, eyes half lidded.

you hum once more, eyes finally fluttering shut and passing out for good. hyunjin’s heart beats erratically in his chest, almost crying. he’s fucked up terribly, he doesn’t know what will happen to you now.

he sets you down onto your bed, sitting in place next you. he hides his wings and tail, returning to his more human-looking form.

tears spill from his eyes, what if he’s killed you? he doesn’t want to think about it now. his eyes droop, and he finally lets sleep take over.

your eyes flutter open late in the afternoon the next day. you feel different, happy almost, but you don’t know why. the hole in your heart feels like it has been filled again.

“y/n? you’re awake?”

you turn to see where the voice came from and your heart basically stops. you’re inches away from just about the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. light pink wisps of hair frame his face, the shade matching your cheeks.

“oh- y-yeah. um… what happened?”

he doesn’t really answer the question, only checking your arm where the bandaged wound is. you look up, giving him a questioning look. “i don’t remember how that happened, hyunjin. am i okay?”

he looks up into your eyes, “yeah i think so.”

there’s an expression behind them that he can’t quite place, so he continues staring. it’s silent for a while, before you break the silence. “you’re pretty.”

your eyes go wide, as do his. you smack a hand over your mouth to stop any other thoughts from spilling out.

he brings his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek and forcing you to look at him. you laugh nervously, “i- um… what are you doing?”

“just look at me for a second.”

his eyes trace your pupils, and you grow shy under his gaze. you feel your cheeks burning, but hyunjin keeps his hand there, grazing it with his thumb every so often.

that’s when he sees them. faint pink hearts peer through your irises, ones only cupids can see, and he quickly retracts his hand to slap it over his face.

“fuck…”, he mutters under his breath. you start to worry, “what? whats wrong?”

he thinks about some questions he could ask to figure out the true severity of the situation. he’s aware that arrows wear off over time if the other doesn’t reciprocate feelings. all he had to do was make sure he didn’t fall in love. easy, right?

“do you um… do you feel any different? like your heart maybe? does it feel funny?”

you giggle, “yeah it feels different, but it’s not bad. maybe it’s because i like you so much-“

your jaw hangs open after you realize what you’ve said, and you put a hand over your mouth again. he laughs softly, still unable to grasp that this is actually happening.

“is that going to happen every time i speak? do i need to shut up?”

he giggles a little, “no, it’s okay if things like that slip out. it’s no biggie.”

after a little moment of silence, he speaks up again. “would you like some food? i made your favorite.”

you look up at him again, heart fluttering at the way he looks at you. “oh yeah, sure. thanks…”

he takes you by the hand, leading you to the kitchen. it passes an unfamiliar warmth through your entire body.

is this what love is like?

“good morning”

you turn over onto your back, locking eyes with hyunjin, who’s flying right over you. you smile, waving and finally getting out of bed. you feel oddly shy under his gaze, you decide not to think about it.

you get ready, enjoying the peace you have alone. you feel like your heart is going to burst whenever you’re with hyunjin.

you walk out of the bathroom to see hyunjin waiting for you on your bed, the sheets have been swapped and the pillows fluffed, and you smile again after seeing him.

“wanna go out for breakfast today?”

he hums in agreement, drifting towards you. he brings his hands up, and you back away a little cautiously. “hyune, what are you doing?”

before you can really process it, he picks you up, his muscles bulging from his arms. you squeal in surprise, eliciting a smile from him.

“i’ll just fly you there, it’s faster, and no one can see you anyways since we’re in contact”

“oh…”, he brings you out of the house, flying you towards your favorite bakery. “how do you know so much about me?”

he smiles, “ive been watching over you for years, i know basically everything.”

you giggle, smiling at him again. the rosy tint in your cheeks has yet to fade, and you don’t think it will anytime soon. you stare into his eyes, waiting for him to stare back. maybe you’ll feel something.

he turns his head after a little silence, a bit concerned as to why you’re being so quiet. you lock eyes, and he smiles at you. watching your cheeks flush red, his heart rate accelerated.

this was going to be a lot harder than he thought it’d be.

he sets you down at the front of the cafe, returning to his human form and entering it with you. “just so you know, people can see me in my human form.”

you nod in acknowledgement, greeting the cashier and ordering two muffins. you’re about to go on, but hyunjin continues to order coffee for the both of you.

you both grab your food, sitting down at the table. you’re going to have to get used to hyunjin knowing all your orders, it seems to fluster you everytime.

you try to make conversation, asking him about his life up until now. “so… do you have any hobbies?”

he laughs, “i’m good at art, i do it a lot.” you hum, thinking about what you could ask next. you stare at him, and you seem to be getting more flustered by the second.

“oh- um- what do you draw?”

he thinks about the question for a moment, wondering if he should tell the truth. he doesn’t want to fluster you any further. you take a sip of your coffee, waiting for an answer.

“well… i draw you a lot”

he watches as your eyes go wide, but before he can process, there’s a loud spurting noise, and he instinctively closes his eyes.

you begin to choke on the remains of the drink in your mouth, and hyunjin quickly gets up to help you. he pats your back a bit, wiping your face not long after.

“are you okay?”

you finally look up at him, a worried look on his face. you stare down at his white shirt, completely soaked in a light brown liquid.

you nod, and you grab another tissue to fix yourself up. you bring it up to your face, but he snatches the tissue at you, dabbing at your shirt and neck to get the liquid off.

he watches as your face gets redder and redder, smiling softly to himself. it’s adorable how flustered you’re getting. he continues to clean up, until you feel something dripping from your nose.

you assume it’s coffee, wiping it with the back of your hand. it didnt really… look like coffee.

you let out a little gasp, causing hyunjin to look up at you. his eyes go wide again, grabbing another tissue and holding it to your nose to soak up the blood.

“fuck… i’m sorry hyune…”

he doesn’t say anything, but he smiles, tucking some extra strands of hair behind your ear. your nose finally stops bleeding, and he laughs a little bit.

“i cannot believe that just happened.”

“i said i’m sorry”, you whine.

he grabs some more tissues, drying the coffee off of his shirt. he watches you get even redder, this time from embarrassment.

“is it really so bad i draw you? i mean, you’re basically the only thing i see all day”, he asks nonchalantly. he smiles, looking up at you and waiting for an answer.

“oh- no i was just… surprised is all.”

he giggles again, your heart doing somersaults at the sound. he wipes down the table too, and picks up the bag with the muffins.

“you wanna go home now?”

you pick yourself up and check the condition of your clothes. “oh… yeah sure”

okay. not falling in love was going to be a lot harder than he thought. he hands you the muffins, going back to his cupid form and picking you up. he flys out of the cafe, bringing you to your house.

now the poor cashier is stuck there wondering how there are two cups of unfinished coffee on a table, and how a random couple just disappeared.

surely she’s just tired, right?

“hyunjin, wake up.”

“mmm… not yet… i’m comfy”

you sigh, loud enough for him to hear. “hyune, your face is halfway into my boobs right now. get up?”

he jerks his head up and scoots away from you quickly. almost hitting his head on the bedpost. “i’m sorry”

you giggle a little bit at his flustered state, “i wasn’t complaining about that hyune, you’re just… really hot”

his eyes widen again, “oh- i- is this really the time to say that?”

you slap your hand over your forehead, sighing loudly. “i think you’re sick, stupid”

he brings a hand up to his forehead, feeling the burning sensation on his fingers. “fuck…”

“i’ll make you some soup, yeah?”

he musters all the strength he can to get out of bed, but it doesn’t work. you put a hand on his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed. “rest now, i’ll bring the food, hm?”

he nods, turning over and burying his face into the pillows.

you exit the room, immediately calling your mom. “ma?”

“hey y/n! what’s up hon?”

“ma, how do i make your sick soup?”

you can hear her giggling on the other line, “you want to make my sick soup? are you okay?”

you let out a long sigh, knowing it’s inevitable. “no… ma, there’s this guy i like, and he’s really sick. i wanna make it for him”

you hear a squeal from your phone, causing you to scoff playfully. “ma, please?”, you whine.

she finally gives in, telling you all the required ingredients. she walks you through the entire procedure, and you’ve finally fixed up a bowl.

you make sure to present it nicely, hyunjin is an artist after all. you’re sure he’ll love it even more if it looks as amazing as it tastes.

you place it on the wooden board, slowly making your way to your room. cognizant of your surroundings, you make sure you don’t trip, and open the door slowly.

hyunjin shoots up in bed again, eyes still tired and drooping over. he rubs the sleep away with his hands, smiling at you when he sees what’s in your hands.

you set the board down onto the bed in front of him, he holds it tight so it won’t spill. making your way to the other side of the bed, you smile at him. he can’t help but smile back.

you sit down next to him, “can i?”

he can only bring himself to nod, and you grab the spoon from the bowl. holding up the spoon, you blow on it so that it’s just the right temperature, and bring it up to his face. he parts his lips, sipping it and humming in satisfaction.

he takes another sip, a bit of the soup dribbling down his chin. wiping it off with your thumb, you giggle at him. it feels oddly domestic, but you convince yourself it isn’t real.

he finishes the bowl not too long after, setting it aside and laying back down. he pulls you down with him, an impulsive decision, and hugs you tightly again, just as he did this morning.

you lay there in comfortable silence, stroking his hair as he hums. he buries his face into your chest again, and you can’t help yourself from laughing.

“shut up, it’s comfortable”

“mmm, okay hyune”

he’s not supposed to fall in love, he knows it, but right now it’s all he can think about. he wants you so bad, but he blocks those feelings out. he can’t ruin your life by making you truly fall in love with him.

his breathing evens out, and you assume he’s asleep, but you continue to stroke his head. he wraps arms around you subconsciously, pulling you flush to his body.

why did this have to happen? why did you have to fall for a cupid? wouldn’t it be easier to just forget about him? well, only five more days of this madness, and you can finally be free from him.

another downside of this, is that you can’t stop your thoughts from slipping out. you regret every word you say. you don’t want to make it any harder for him. “i love you”

he looks up at you, and you look back down in surprise. you’re surprised he hasn’t fallen asleep yet.

“i know, im sorry.”

oh my gosh… what the fuck is he doing?

you watch as hyunjin applies a little more lipstick onto his plush lips, fixing up his eyeliner and finally leaving the bathroom. he has one of your skirts on paired with a long-forgotten crop top he found in the back of your closet.

he finally exits the bathroom, smiling at you and putting his hands on his hips. you cock an eyebrow at him, incredibly confused. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t amused.

“look! i’m you!”, he exclaims with a smug smile. “uh huh…”

you quickly grab your phone out of your pocket, snapping a photo of him before he can process it.

“hey! that’s not fair, i didn’t give you my consent”

you roll your eyes at him, it’s not like anyone’s gonna see it anyways. “it’s for my eyes only, hyune”

he grabs the phone from you, trying to delete it but you lunge at him. he instinctively flies away and dodges you, fumbling with the phone to delete the photo.

you jump up, trying to grab him, but your sleeve gets caught on his wing. he shrieks in pain, dropping your phone and lowering himself onto the floor.

you pick up your phone, not even realizing the tears leaving his eyes. you look back up to rub in his face that you’re keeping the photo, but your heart stops when you see him almost sobbing.

“fuck- hyunjin, are you okay?”

he turns his head towards you, his tear stained cheeks seem to taunt you. “uh yeah, sorry- they’re just a little sensitive.”

you run your fingers over the part of the wing you tugged on, phone still in your other hand. it’s the perfect chance for him.

he grabs your phone out of your hand, almost deleting it before you knock it onto the bed behind him. he chucks a pillow at you.

wow, real mature.

you catch it, whacking him in the face. he hides his wings and tail to ensure he doesn’t get “hurt” again, and grabs another pillow, using it as a shield.

the two of you end up on the bed somehow, smacking pillows into eachothers faces and giggling.

not too long after though, you get tangled up into the blanket due to all the movement. you look like a huge burrito, arms wrapped around one another and trying to wriggle out.

your faces are mere centimeters apart, and you can’t help but let the impulsive decisions win. you place a peck onto his nose, your lips lingering there far too long for his sake.

his breath hitches in his throat, and he stops moving for a moment. you can only smile, kissing his forehead this time. “why did you have to be a cupid…”

his heart clenches in his chest, but he couldn’t let himself fall. he ignores all the feelings he has for you in a desperate attempt to save you.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i wish you could’ve been happy”

“i’ll let myself be happy for the next two days. that’s all i need.”

one more day of this madness. you’re not sure why hyunjin’s stuck around with you, but you don’t seem to mind it.

you sit silently, waiting till the effect wears off. hyunjin on the other hand, isn’t quite sure if he wants that to happen. he’s been holding back his heart, not letting him fall for you yet.

if he falls for you after the effects wear off, nothing will happen. he’ll live with the pain of having to love you, even though you can’t love him back, but that’s good enough for him.

it’s getting harder to contain himself around you, especially when you’re in the position you are right now. he’s curled up to your side, shaking a little and turning away every time he sees a jumpscare.

you pull him close to you, ensuring that he feels safe. you don’t want to push his boundaries, but it looks like what he wants right now. his little whimpers break your heart everytime you hear one.

“hyune, do you want me to turn it off?”

you snap him out of his fearful state, your voice calming him instantly. “oh- sorry… no, we can continue watching. it’s okay.”

you hold his hand, running a finger over his knuckles soothingly. he can’t stop himself from nuzzling closer to you, his face hiding in the crook of your neck.

you turn back towards him, kissing his cheek this time. “i love you so much hyune…”

he has to stop the tears from dripping over his lashline, and he looks back up at you. “i know, it’ll be over soon, i promise”

“i don’t want it to be over hyune…”

“im sorry.”

you turn your attention back to the movie, the pain almost becoming unbearable. you try to ignore hyunjin in an attempt to save yourself from fate.

he seems to notice, but doesn’t comment on it. he knows you just don’t want to deal with that type of pain.

he lays on his back, still in your bed. tears stream down his face incessantly as you sleep peacefully next to him. by the time you wake up, it’ll be gone. you won’t love him anymore, but he’ll still love you.

the sun starts to rise, and hyunjin gets out of bed slowly, careful to not wake you. he snaps back to his cupid form, his true cupid form. the feeling is back.

he’s once again invisible. you won’t be able to see him again, but he knows it’s for the best. now that he’s taught you how to love, maybe he’ll have better luck with his arrows, right?

he watches from above as you wake up to an empty bed. “hyune?”

his heart clenches at the sound of his nickname coming out of your mouth. fear becomes evident on your features, and you call out for him again.

you check the kitchen, bathroom, you even walk to the cafe you went to together to see if he was getting breakfast early. he was nowhere to be found.

you trot back home in a hurry, looking for hyunjin everywhere. calling out his name in parks, on roads, in stores.

he never came.

life’s been the same since hyunjin left. it’s the same cycle again, except you haven’t found a lover since. the arrows affect has wore off, but your feelings haven’t changed.

your heart still belongs to him, and it’s been that way since you met him. you still love hyunjin, and you doubt you’ll ever get over him.

you’ve called for him every day since he left, and he’s heard every single one of them. you lay in bed now, tired and exhausted. your heart feels like it’s going to explode.

you know he’s there… you can feel it. you quickly turn over, face down into the pillows so he can’t see your tears. small whimpers leave your lips as you sob relentlessly, his name slipping from your lips like a mantra.

“jinnie, please come back… i know you’re there… just- please.”

his heart shatters right then and there, but he pieces it back together for you, focusing on getting back to you.

he puts all of his focus on you, trying his very best to get back, until he finally does. you see him again, sitting right next to you.

you scramble to get back up, “hyunjin?!”

his eyes widen, a huge grin making its way onto his face. “you can see me again?!”

you’re quick to cup his face with your hands, ensuring that he’s actually real. you climb onto him, giving him a long awaited hug.

“i thought you were gone…”

he holds onto you tighter, “i’m always here. i just didn’t know if you would ever be able to see me again.”

you continue embracing eachother, smiling and crying into eachothers necks. you pull back for a moment, directing his gaze towards you with your hands again.

“hyune… the feeling never went away.”

he gives you a quizzical look, confused as to what you mean. “jinnie…”

“hm?”

“i still love you.”

his eyes go wide, and he finally lets his heart guide him. his job as a cupid is done, now he has to step up as a lover.

he inches closer towards your face, in hopes to finally get that kiss he’s been craving so much, but you pull away from him.

he leans back as well, apologizing. “sorry, i didn’t mean to rush you or anythi-“

you cut him off before he can finish with an electrifying kiss, shooting a warmth throughout your entire body.

you pull away from him, “i-“, another kiss, “y/n…”

“let me love you for a bit… please?”

he gives into you, losing control and letting the love flow naturally. your kisses make him feel like he’s being set on fire.

you admire the work you’ve made of his neck and collarbone, smiling at him even more now. he smiles back the same exact way.

“i love you, y/n.”

he hugs you close to his chest again, afraid that you’ll disappear from him if he lets go.

“i love you most, jinnie”

“he said yes!”

you squeal in glee, running up to him and jumping up to hug him. “really?! he’ll allow it!?”

he nods, leaning down to kiss you. now that hyunes allowed to date you, you don’t have many worries anymore.

of course, that means he has to stay a human. he can’t be a cupid anymore, and he can’t fly, but he can keep his wings. you’re thrilled about that of course, they’re something that make him look even more gorgeous.

he picks you up, twirling you around and peppering your face in sweet kisses. you dont notice when the nature of your kisses change, but they feel much rougher now.

he leads you to your bedroom, and your heart flutters in your chest. is this really happening right now?

he looks into your eyes again, and you nod, taking off your shirt and leaning back into the kiss. “so pretty…”, you hear him mumble.

you suddenly feel shy under his gaze, face flushing red again as you watch him unbutton his shirt. “hyune… you know- i’ve never… you know.”

he smiles, gently lifting your legs and sliding off your clothes. his fingertips caress your bare body, your whole body convulsing at the sensation.

“relax baby… i’ve got you.”

313 notes · View notes

sweethyune · 5 months

Text

Wanna bet?

Hyunjin hurried back into the practice room looking fully disheveled. His hair was tousled, his clothes messy and his eyes glazed. He barely made it back in time, at least physically. Mentally he was still between your thighs.

„Jesus, what’s gotten into you?“, Han teased. Hyunjin stumbled for words, his brain hadn’t fully recovered from what you had done to him just minutes ago. Images of your plush lips around his hardened cock flooded his mind. „Oh, would you look at how he’s blushing. Were you with her again?“, Changbin chimed in.

Ever since the dating ban had been lifted he was fucking his whole way through Seoul‘s elite, unlike Hyunjin who had only ever fucked you.

But since nobody was allowed to know about that, he had to make up a lie. „Who is Hyunjin‘s mystery girlfriend?“, Seungmin asked curiously. Changbin snorted before answering: „We all know who it’s not. Have you talked to y/n lately? She can’t stand his guts.“

A provocative laugh left Changbin‘s lips which made Hyunjin‘s blood boil. If he only knew, if they only knew how you whimpered for him, how you got on your knees for him, how you declared your love only for him.

You came up with the stupid idea to make up a feud so that nobody would be suspicious.

„Let’s just pretend we hate each other so nobody suspects us, Hyun.“

Oh no, he didn’t like that. At all. You kissed his big pout, little by little, until it dissolved. Hyunjin buried his head into your neck, whining about all of this. „My love, this is not fair. The dating ban is finally over and still I can’t show you openly? Make that make sense?“

He was a big romantic after all, your boyfriend. You smiled sadly and caressed his face. „Precious, you are used to the fame and its perks. But also its downsides. But I’m not. I am a nobody and I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t want to share our love with others, especially not your fans. Can’t we just pretend for a little longer?“

His head shot up as he looked you straight in the eyes. You saw the dissatisfaction in him, but still he showed you the utmost respect and adoration.

„You’re not a nobody y/n. Especially not to me. But I understand. I don’t like it but I understand.“

You kissed the tip of his nose quickly. He let out a chuckle as he grabbed your face and kissed you tenderly. „You know I can’t resist you, my love. Never been able to.“

Seungmin‘s voice brought him back to reality. „You mean manager y/n? Why? Why does she hate him so much?“ Changbin grabbed a cup of water and sat down on the floor. Hyunjin wondered when the others would finally arrive, so he wouldn’t have to listen to this any longer.

„I grabbed lunch with her recently and we actually talked about this. You know one moment we were happily chatting about the newest girl groups’ choreographies and the next minute she got all icy and shot daggers out of her eyes. That’s when I realized she saw Hyunjin.“

Hyunjin listened silently as he recalled that moment in the cafeteria. It was true - you gave him the coldest look, turning his heart into ice. He even heard you badmouth him to Changbin, something about him being too arrogant and stupid. „He’s the leader of paboracha for a reason, right?“, your amused voice echoed in his head. „It’s like he only cares about his looks. No wonder he’s every brand‘s ambassador. But real talent? Not so much.“

Hurt got replaced by anger, so naturally Hyunjin left the cafeteria and ate alone. This was still new to him and he tried to have compassion for your fears but did you have to make your hate towards him that obvious?

Did you mean all that? Did you purposely spawn out his insecurities like that?

Sometimes he couldn’t tell, which left him feeling worse. He always saw you in the best light but apparently you only saw his flaws.

He was pissed, no he was furious.

Until he wasn’t.

Every time you made him angry like that he discovered new sides in both of you.

You felt guilty and remorseful after humiliating him, you desperately needed to make it up to him. You got creative, eager to please. You sent him the naughtiest texts while working, slid the prettiest nudes into his wallet or sucked him off in between meetings. You loved this game of provoking him, acting like he was shit only to beg for his forgiveness later.

And Hyunjin? Weirdly, he got off of it. He could bear the humiliation if that meant he could dominate you later as much as he pleased. He fucked his anger out of him - and right into you. He was rough with you: spitting, spanking, hitting. You insulted his ego and now he punished your pussy, however he pleased.

Was it twisted?

Was it perverse?

Hyunjin had no idea as this was his first real relationship. Was love always accompanied by hate?

„You know I think I might actually ask her out. What do you think? Do I have a shot with manager y/n?“

Changbin grinned from ear to ear.

Hyunjin had no idea how your relationship turned toxic but he was sure of one thing - you were his. He ruminated on using you to get back at his friend. He hesitated - no matter the amount of hate you elicited in him, he still loved you.

But that all changed when he looked into Changbin’s face - he was so sure of winning, so sure of humiliating Hyunjin for once, so he had no chance than to trade you in.

„Why don’t we make a bet?“ Hyunjin spoke up for the first time since entering the practice room.

His hyung snorted out laughing. „A bet? Do you want to compete against me?“

Hyunjin smirked, feeling overly confident. „Sure, why not?“ Changbin‘s eyes widened in shock. „Are you serious right now? She hates your guts. Do you want to lose?“

Hyunjin thought back to you moaning his name every other night. He pictured you walking around in his clothes, only for him to strip you out of them. He saw you looking at him with love and adoration, like no one ever had before. He was sick of hiding his relationship and he was sicker of Changbin‘s bickering. Let him loose drastically, let him learn a lesson.

„Is that a no? Are you afraid?“

Changbin got up from the floor, towering in front of him. „Game on, Hwang.“

Hyunjin flinched, rigorously hating being called by his surname. The voice of rationality chimed in, hoping to dissolve the friction between the two of them. „So let me get this straight. You want to bet on manager y/n? Who will win her over first? Isn’t that kind of…mean?“

Oh it was.

Normally, Hyunjin wouldn’t behave like this but he needed to teach Changbin a lesson. He knew that you wouldn’t get hurt so what was the big deal? Let him woo you some while he sat back and watched. At the end of the day it would be him who was making you faint from pleasure.

Nobody said a word, the older ones were too busy eye-fucking each other.

Changbin spoke first. „What’s the price?“

Hyunjin rolled his eyes as a response. „Her, you moron. What other price do you need?“

Changbin laughed again. „Actually, you’re right. Not only am I going to get her but I will also win against you. And that’s a shameful defeat you’ll have to live with forever. Let’s do this.“

The others entered the practice room as the deal was sealed. Not another word was spoken on that matter. Hyunjin remained silent, deep in his thoughts he wondered: „Did I take it too far this time?“

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sweethyune · 5 months

Text

my poor heart. this needs another chapter

SKZ Reaction: He hurts the reader (Hyung Line)

A/N: GUESS WHOS BACK?! BACK AGAIN DAZED IS BACK TELL A FRIEND GUESS WHOS BACK GUESS WHOS BACK GUESS WHOS BACK….a little short one I was able to come up with for this request. I hope y’all missed me as much as I missed y’all. I was uninspired recently but I’ve found my inspiration and I’m not as depressed as I once was so I felt it was only right to give y’all what you wanted. Also Minhos is implied Yandere

Masterlist

Chan:

“You’re fucking kidding me right?!” You argue, frustration bubbling in your stomach as the image of the trainee seated comfortably on Chan’s lap flashes in your memory. He shakes his head, his eyes rolling in annoyance, “No, Y/N if you can’t handle the fact that she just fell and it’s not what your making it out to be then maybe I don’t need to be with you!” He growls. You scoff at the audacity “oh sorry Chan, she just fell and I just so happened to walk in at the wrong time?!” He throws his hands up in frustration “Jesus Fuck! Y/N are you stupid? Like genuinely I’m asking because you’re obviously fucking stupid if you seem to think I would allow someone to do that!” The veins in his neck begin to bulge as you roll your eyes “I guess I’m fucking stupid then! Cause I don’t believe you! If she had just fell why were her arms around your neck why was her head laying on your shoulder?! WHY WERE YOUR ARMS WRAPPED AROUND HER?! I UNDERSTAND IF SHE FELL BUT SHE DIDN’T FUCKING FALL YOU GUYS WERE FUCKING CUDDLING CHAN” you counter, your voice cracking as you make your way to the bedroom. Forcing the door open you grab your suitcase placed under the bed.

Chan followed behind you his eyes never once leaving you. His heart sunk in his chest at your actions, and his anger in his stomach bubbled. There’s no way you were leaving him over this….right? He genuinely didn’t do anything wrong. And whilst, yes things could have been misconstrued he was sincerely telling you the honest to god truth. Your actions only fueling his anger “Why can’t you just fucking trust me?!” He snaps, grabbing the lamp from the nightstand and sending it hurling across the room. Only, not only did he hear the shattering of the lamp but a loud scream erupting from your throat. His eyes fall on you now huddled in the middle of the room. Fragments from the lamp scattered on the floor behind you and at your feet. Shock over took him. His mouth hung widen open, tears flowed down your cheeks as you ran past him out of the room as you meekly muttered “I’ll send someone to get my things another time…” it took him a few seconds to process everything as his anger was completely subsided with his actions and your words. His feet acted before he realized what he was doing, your retreating figure came into view and his heart yearned to stop you from walking out of that door. “Baby—Y/N, please I-I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know why I did that, please don’t leave. I’m sorry” he cried as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Your whole body tensed from the contact and his resolve completely shattered at your fear. Sobs flowed out like Niagara, his breathing grew heavier and heavier as you struggled to pull him off you. His pleas falling on deaf ears as you finally force him off you and grab your keys and purse before running to your car.

Your heart broke as Chan pulled on your door handle, heartbreak and sorrow etched on his features as he begged you to stay, that he would fix things and profusely apologizing. You pleaded for him to let go of the handle so he wouldn’t get hurt but having no choice you placed your car in reverse and slowly made your way out of the drive way and down the street. Your eyes catching a glimpse of the man you love crying at the end of the driveway where you left him, on his knees.

Minho:

“You’re overreacting..” Minho sighed as you walked down the street, not understanding your anger at his ignorance. “Minho, you introduced me as your friend to someone you’ve liked for years. How can you be so oblivious to how that can hurt your girlfriend. That watched you pine over that girl for years.” You explained cautiously behind gritted teeth. “I didn’t pine over her. And I love you, not her so I don’t see the problem, nor do I really care if she knows our relationship or not. It’s not like I go around telling everyone you’re my girlfriend anyway” he states snobbishly as he shrugs you off. You stop in place releasing his hand. “So who knows then?” You question, this has come up a few times in your almost one year relationship. For some reason, Minho seems hesitant to fully acknowledge you as his girlfriend. You wouldn’t have really cared if it was just about going public but so far you’ve never even met his members. Not when you were his friend, and especially not while you were his girlfriend. You weren’t even sure his parents knew. And with the way he’s been treating you, it’s no surprise when he gives you a confused look and states “no one? Why does anyone have to know? You know what I’m not doing this with you again. I told you already, I don’t want anyone to know about us. Other people like to ruin happy relationships, why would I want someone to unnecessarily know about something I want to be mine and mine only?” You scoff at his undermining tone, this is how it always was. You somehow get on his nerves and he scolds you like a child, almost like he looks down on you in a way. Almost like—“Are you embarrassed of me or something?” You snap.

Realization washes over you, your mouth hung open; as you stare at him in shock. The look on his face has your blood running cold. A glare planted firmly on you as he stomps over to you, his hand roughly grabbing your wrist. His grip is vice like and hurt. “ow, Minho, you’re hurting me—Don’t ever say something so fucking stupid again are you kidding me?!” He snapped behind gritted teeth his words like venom almost instantaneously you nodded in fear. Tears built in your eyes and you thanked god you were close to your dorm. “Please let me go…” you muttered as he pulled you beside him down the street toward your dorm. The whole way his harsh grip remained on your wrist, as tears flowed down your cheeks. His natural calm look remained on his face, really selling the façade of someone quite unaffected but inside he was dying. How could you ask him that? You are the only thing that matters to him. He’s never once been embarrassed of you he loves you so much. And though—yes, he may have lied to that girl about your relationship, honestly just to see how you’d react, he never thought you’d ask him such a disgusting question. He lied to you, and he knows this is his price to pay for that lie but how could he bring you around everyone that’s so desperate to meet you? He could feel you slipping through his fingers so to speak so he held you at his side. Your pleas falling on deaf ears, he didn’t even realize how tightly he had been holding you. And once he realized it was too late, when you refused to meet his eyes at your door he felt like he was going to throw up. He overreacted, he knows he did. He stared at your fearful figure and pulled you into his chest. Words getting stuck in his throat as you shoved his arms away, what could he do? He was panicking. “I-I didn’t mean to—I don’t care.” You cut him off “I can’t do this anymore Minho, please…don’t—don’t come back here” this couldn’t be happening right now. “Princess, I really didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry, I’m not embarrassed of you okay? I’ll fix this, we can go to my dorm right now you can meet my members. I’ll do whatever you want but please don’t break up with me. You know id never hurt you on purpose, I genuinely just lost myself for a second but it won’t happen again. I won’t let it happen again. I’m sorry I’m so sorry but please don’t make me leave now it was supposed to be our night please don’t let my stupidity mess everything up.” He begged grabbing your hand in his. Shaking your head you rejected him coldly before rushing inside and locking the door behind you ignoring the banging and whaling at the door.

Changbin:

“This is really too much, Y/N..” Changbin scolded. You had texted him quite a few times, since he hadn’t come home in 3 days and to the average person you’d expect a reply or any sign your significant other is doing okay. The last time you had seen him he was on the verge of collapse and now he acted as if nothing had happened; as if you didn’t see how he struggled to even walk to your room a few nights prior. “How is it too much? I just asked Chan if you were okay, I was worried about you, Bin” you pout from your place on the couch. “I told you that I was fine. I told you I was busy and didn’t need you consistently checking up on me and being so fucking obsessive. I understand why your exes just disappeared on you cause holy fuck!” He growls, you bite your lip at his words lifting yourself from your seat and slowly make your way to the bedroom to collect your things to get some space. Your movements are halted by his harsh grip whipping you around to face him. Tears streaming down your face as your harshly shoved against the wall “No! You don’t get to be literally fucking crazy then just walk away like you didn’t fucking harass me” He scolds.

A sharp pain radiating in your back, you flinched as he towered over you. “Please let me go I-I don’t want this…I’m sorry I’m sorry” your hands covered your head as you squeaked. His hold on you loosened “B-babe…” he croaked “Im sorry I—“ his words were cut off by you forcefully shoving him away from you “D-don’t touch me” you exclaim while you rushed to the bedroom. Locking it behind you as you listened to a once frozen Changbin shout expletives and several loud bangs ring through the apartment.

Hyunjin:

“You really think he loves you?” Yerim prods, her words like venom and you silently prayed Hyunjin would be back from the store soon. “Hyunjin likes me Yerim, we’re dating. We have been dating for over a year now I would think he likes me” you sigh. Staring at the door, “you think that but you do know what he does when he comes over to my place? It’s like you don’t exist, he loves me honestly. We’ve been friends since we were kids you really don’t think I can’t make you guys break up any time I want? You’re still with Hyunjin because I allow you to be.” She snaps. Her hands sat on her hips as she leans into your face “He loves me not you and honestly it’s embarrassing how much you cling to him” her words like venom, sending pain straight into your heart. You never particularly cared that Hyunjins best friend was a girl, you never minded that they hung out almost daily. You didn’t mind not tagging along because you felt he deserved to have time alone with his best friend. Yet, every time you’d had seen her she would have something negative to say and for a while now it’s been the stipulation that Hyunjin was cheating on you with her. You typically just ignore her, and never tell Hyunjin as you don’t want to be the reason for them to fight. But her words today have you absolutely fuming. “Jesus Christ, Yerim! Can you grow the fuck up for once? Like honestly I’m really over this bitchy, monopolizing attitude you have over Hyunjin. He may have fallen for this innocent, perfect persona but I’m really getting pissed off with it.” You snap as you lift yourself from the couch you were sat on and making your way over to the kitchen. “I WAS HIS FRIEND FIRST! I LOVED HIM FIRST!” She growls grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at her “okay! SO WHY WERE YOU SUCH A PUSSY AND DIDN’T CONFESS TO HIM?! IF YOU LOVED HIM SO FUCKING MUCH YOU WOULD HAVE TOLD HIM THAT YOU LOVE HIM WHETHER HE WAS WITH ME OR NOT BUT NO YOU CHOSE TO RUN WITH YOUR TAIL TUCKED BETWEEN YOUR LEGS AND NOW YOU EXPECT ME TO GIVE A SHIT ABOUT HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT MY BOYFRIEND! Get a fucking grip Yerim and don’t fucking touch me!” You force your arm from her grasp with a little too much force earning a small yelp from Yerim as she stumbles back toward the couch. The sound of the door slamming closed cut both of your words off. You see Hyunjin standing in the doorway a glare planted on his face as he stormed toward you two.

You feel confusion as his scowl never once left your face as he shoved you away from his friend. Losing your footing from going backward you land on the ground a sharp pain shoots through your wrist. “Yerim are you okay? Y/N are you fucking crazy?!” He growled at you never once turning and seeing your small figure holding tight onto your wrist as the pain radiates through it. “. “She’s literally fine she fell…” you grumble. “Onto a couch mind you” your words are strained as you slowly lift yourself up from the ground. “Why’d you fucking push her in the first place? I get you don’t even like her but to act so fucking childish it’s disgusting!” He scolds, you glare at him as you make your way to your door grabbing your car keys with your wrist pressed firmly against your body; as you held back your tears “ITS DISGUSTING THAT YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME TOO BUT WHATEVER HYUNJIN IM GOING TO THE HOSPITAL I WANT YOU, YOUR SLUT AND YOUR SHIT OUT OF MY APARTMENT BEFORE I GET BACK!” You snap. “Wait, Y/N! I think you’re misunderstanding something here… she’s my best friend that’s all! I didn’t mean to hurt you I’m sorry okay? But I heard what you said and just saw red when I saw you push her!” He counters as he makes his way over to you. “But you don’t care about what she said? Nothing was misunderstood she made both of your relationship very clear to me and honestly you can have each other” you argue, his eyes brows scrunch together as his head whips toward Yerim. “What the hell did you say to her?!” He shouted his voice filled with panic. “It doesn’t matter I want you both gone before I get back here…” you snap as you force your door open and make your way outside. You can hear his confused pleas for you to allow him to come with you. You saw the realization adorn his features as he realized that you were serious, when you wouldn’t unlock your passenger door no matter how many times he pulled on it. He cried and begged you not to break up with him over this, that he would fix it and he believed you. He felt the world crumbling down around him as you drove away and he received a text from you stating that him and his stuff needed to be vacated from your apartment by the time you came back home. He sobbed harshly as he stared after your car driving away from him.

1K notes · View notes

sweethyune · 9 months

Text

two minutes

hyunjin x reader

this is messy but that live had me feeling things

warnings: minors dni!!, deep throating, cum eating, cock warming, hyunjin in a tank top

☆: @hhwangsmoon @straywrds @l3visbby @armysantiny @hwajin @casualtaelyn @staybangchan @hopeladybug @midsoulz @aestheticsluut @venustired @abiaswreck @reallyloudstarlight @deathlypink @djeniryuu @rachabreathing @alyszaen @starlostseungmin @bokk-minnie @spicymooseeyes @arlojulien-nightchild-of-hades @downbadreading @moasworld @ren0325 @ketchupaeternum @like-a-diamondinthesky

“Fuck,” Hyunjin mutters, head thrown back against the chair as his fingers tangle in your hair.

You moan around him at the slight pull on your hair, dragging your lips up his dick before pulling off with a wet pop.

“Two minutes baby,” you purr as your hand replaces your mouth, “Think you can do it?”

Hyunjin huffs, swallowing as his hooded eyes meet yours.

“Y-Yes.”

He didn’t sound very sure.

“Turn it on baby. Be good for two minutes and I’ll let you fuck my throat.”

Hyunjin’s thighs tremble as his hands fumble with his phone—nearly dropping it as he moves to set it up.

You continued your ministrations on his cock as he did so. You’ll have to admit that Hyunjin was good at controlling his expression when he needed to. No one knew that he had you under the desk—his hard cock tortured by your touch. You played with him as he talked, eyeing his swollen lips and sweaty hair.

And his fucking arms.

Your cunt practically ached at the sight of them.

That damn tank top. It had you wanting to consume him.

You lean forward, lips finally wrapping around his tip. You only suckle it at first—switching between licking sucking the sensitive head.

Then you went down on him.

You hear the shutter in his breath and notice the way he pulls his lip between his teeth. You don’t move at all, only swallowing around him every now and again to tease him.

Hyunjin’s fingers find yours, intertwining them before giving your hand a small squeeze.

How can someone so hot be so cute?

“Thirty more seconds,” he reminded his audience and you couldn’t help but to smile around him.

When the thirty seconds were up, Hyunjin abruptly ended the live before pulling you off of him and kissing you.

“Please baby,” he whimpered against your lips, his own hand joining yours as you jerked him slowly.

“Let me come down your throat.”

You nodded before leaning down and taking his dick between your lips once more. Hyunjin’s thrusts we’re urgent—one, two and then he was coming down your throat.

A choked sound left you, eyes stinging as he used you for his pleasure. You pull off of him with a gasp, lips coated in his cum. You barely get your tongue out of your mouth before Hyunjin is shoving his in—tasting himself on your tongue.

The two of you pull away from one another with harsh breaths.

Hyunjin’s hands carefully cradle the back of your head before pressing a loving kiss to your nose.

“Let’s try for five minutes next time.”

Hyunjin groans as he falls back against his chair, looking properly fucked out but happier than ever.

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sweethyune · 9 months

Text

──SUPER BORED ﹙series masterlist﹚

･ masterlist ･ { This work is intended for adult audiences only. Minors DNI. }

pairing: weed dealer!hyunjin x (afab) reader | genre: non-idol au, college au, suggestive themes/smut | warnings: Hyunjin is a weed dealer, drug use (recreational), partying/drinking, fwb kind of vibes but with mutual pining, light angst, some fluff. Light-hearted little series. Explicit sexual content and smut. (18+ only)

Summary: He's the guy everybody has seen around but nobody actually knows anything about except that he's an art major and sells weed...

— Chapter 1: Wanna see something cool? — Chapter 2: Who knows what goes on in a frog's mind? — Chapter 3: Do you know what your heart wants?

994 notes · View notes

sweethyune · 9 months

Text

this is amazing 🥹❤️

PLUTO.

PART I

Chapters: Part II / Epilogue

Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: Knowing that your life will end soon, you choose to have your desired death by making a pact with the devil with a red hair, Hyunjin. (16,7k words)

Author's note: This was supposed to be a Halloween fic but it seems like New Year is the perfect time to release it. It's about renewal and awakening but with a little bit of chaos in it.

Warning: Mentions sulcidal thoughts and may be triggering. Reader discretion is advised!

Which one is worse: Living or dying first?

You asked yourself as you stood there rethinking all of your decisions that led to this.

A gust of wind blowing your white dress, cold and harsh, like a slap in the face.

You let out a heavy sigh, the steam of your breath formed a curl of white smoke against the dark of the night.

You looked down, down below from the top of the building where everything seemed so small and people looked like specks of dust, looked down beyond your quivering feet, so high you couldn't even see the bottom, the concrete that would welcome you when you plunge to your death.

Was it a good decision? You asked yourself.

Death is easy.

A stab to the heart, a drop of poison, a cardiac arrest, a hypoxia.

Life is hard.

You wake up to another day of a mundane, dull life, work, home, sleep, eat, sigh and do it all over again the next day. Life is pain itself and everybody dies at the end.

You either die now or later, what makes the difference?

All you need was one jump then it's all over.

Death is that easy.

You took a shaky breath, whether it was from the cold or the fear creeping from the inside, a survival instinct in you that told you to get off the ledge and into the safe side.

You carefully put your leg up and are ready to leap, your mind went blank.

You screamed at the vast night sky because the silence got too deafening then like your brain betrayed you, shut you down before you make the worst mistake of your life, you got off the ledge.

You almost slipped and fell off the top of the building just like how you planned, but you found a hand that grabbed yours. Slender fingers decorated with metal rings, pale and hot to the touch, wrapped around your waist, holding you from falling, from death.

He helped you get off the ledge by lifting you by the waist then put you down gently, away from the edge of the building.

"You're hot," you said.

"It's not the first time I heard that," he said with a teeth-baring grin.

You shook your head, "I mean, you're literally hot," you corrected yourself, it was like he had spent hours by the fire and absorbed all of the heat.

He didn't reply but shoved his hands into the pocket of his dress pants.

"How ironic!" He suddenly said.

"An angel," he said, pointing to you who was dressed in an angel costume with its halo headband, "and a devil," he said, placing his hand on his chest to present himself, "met on a rooftop of a building,"

Your eyes were blurry with tears that made you realize that you were crying, cheeks wet and flushed from the cold.

"An angel about to fall but the devil helps her get off the ledge," he finished.

Did he see everything?

You roughly wiped your tears to see him better.

He was wearing a three-piece suit as black as the night, long hair, slicked back, red like hellfire. He has a small face, pale white skin, and small but smoldering eyes, then the lips, red and plump, like a cherry.

He looked at you with his head slightly tilted to the side, observing you like you were an object that intrigued his mind.

And if he weren't blinking, you would have mistaken him as a statue, a perfectly carved marble statue more beautiful than David by Michelangelo.

"Why don't I buy you some drinks and you can tell me how you got here?" He offered, one corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, forming a sinister smile.

You hugged yourself, either your body was seeking warmth or trying to comfort yourself, considering his offer like solving a math problem.

And he took a step closer, held out his hand at you.

You were slightly shivering from the cold, you started to get a runny nose and the invitation suddenly got so tempting, knowing that his hand would offer you some warmth.

You nodded and let him lead you back inside.

He didn't take you back to the Halloween party your company was having, he took you somewhere else, an empty lounge bar that you didn't know even existed in the building.

He welcomed you to sit on one of the stools that face the counter then he stood, took his suit jacket off in an elegant manner, folded it then placed it on the next stool next to you.

He smiled when he caught you watching him rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows without blinking, he spared you from being embarrassed by hurriedly going behind the counter.

He put his hands on the counter and leaned forward at you, "what do you want to drink?" He asked you with eyes pierced right into yours.

"Anything," you answered. You couldn't decide when it felt like all the knowledge in your brain suddenly vanished when he looked at you dead in the eyes like that.

He squinted his eyes as he thought of something to make for you.

"I think I know the perfect drink for you," he said then went on to grab everything.

It was so riveting, seeing him gathering all the ingredients and pouring them one by one into a shaker: ice, red liquid, red-colored syrup, and vodka, finished it with a spritz of lemon.

He started shaking all the mixture together, shaking your thoughts away then hurriedly clearing your throat.

"Are you working here?" You asked.

He cracked a mystifying laugh at you but not answering your question.

He placed a glass on top of the counter and then poured the cocktails into it, seamlessly without spilling a drop.

For the garnish, he put raspberries in a stick into the glass then presented it to you, and slid the glass right in front of you.

The red cocktail sparkling in the dim light, you lifted it close enough to take a sniff of the sweet-smelling drink.

You glanced up at him and he bat his eyelash at you, giving you permission to drink.

You took a careful sip, it was a bit sour, a bit bitter but it was sweet in the end.

You have to admit that he has a prowess for bartending.

"This is good!" You praised him as he cleaned up the counter.

"What it's called?"

"A love potion," he playfully answered.

You blinked a few times, thinking you misheard him.

He laughed, "it's just a raspberry martini!"

He picked up a cherry from a bowl, stuck his tongue just enough to put it on it, bite the stem between his teeth then pulled it out.

"Do you like it?" He asked.

Once again, you got caught ogling over him doing such a mundane thing as eating a cherry.

"I like it," you said, whether he asked about the drink or the scene that just happened in front of you.

He poured himself a drink, a whiskey and you could feel the alcohol burnt your tongue as he filled the glass half full, then added an ice cube.

He went to sit next to you, took a sip of his drink once he was seated then placed the glass on the counter, the ice made a clinking sound inside the glass as he moves.

You clank your drinks together then took sips of your drinks at the same time and it was getting sweeter the more you drink your cocktail.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you get there?" He asked, licking his lower lip that made it even more luscious, inviting you to get a taste.

"I don't know. Desperation, I guess," you answered with low giggles. It baffled you that you got to act like that around a stranger you met barely an hour ago.

"Why would a beautiful girl like you be that desperate?" He asked with eyes that secretly assessed you like you were a Rubik's cube that needs to be solved.

"I'm dying," you shortly replied as you stared deep into your drink.

"Figuratively?" He asked.

You laughed but skipped on answering.

"You must think I'm dramatic," you said, you weren't even going to try to shoot your shot. You have no chance with him, there's no use in trying.

"No," he strongly denied yet his voice remained low and calm.

"There's nothing dramatic in letting yourself deep in your feelings," he added.

You looked at him or braved yourself to do so, for a few seconds before looking away.

"I just want it to end," you said.

It surprised you that the words fell out of your mouth like that, you blamed it on the drink but you saw that he only put a shot of vodka in it. There was no way you let loose like this without being drunk first.

"I just want to end my life my way," you said to him, correcting your first statement.

"I'm conflicted because if I do it, my parents will get sad," you explained, "but I don't want to wait for my life to end either. I want to end it my way, at a time that I decided for myself," you said with sadness in your eyes.

"It's my life after all. I get to decide how and when to end my life, right?"

He hummed, trying to catch on to what you were trying to say and gently nodding.

He propped a hand under his chin with his index finger touching his lower lip, looking into your eyes as if he was searching for something in them.

He slightly parted his mouth open and licked his lower lip, making it wetter and redder than before.

"How about you sell your soul to me?"

You burst out laughing, he said it as if he really is a devil with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Yeah, sure!" You played along with him, stirring your cocktail with the stick.

"And in return, you get to have your desired death," he offered a deal.

You ate the raspberries and chewed on them, "that's actually... a nice deal," you said to him.

"I know, right?" He exclaimed, then took a small sip of his drink, "but you have to give me three reasons why I should approve the deal."

"You want me to appeal?"

He nodded.

"Well, first, I don't want to make my parents sad. If I end myself, I can imagine how devastated they would be and I believe they'd blame themselves for it. I don't want that," you explained.

"Second, my life..." you heavily sighed as it summed up how fed up you were with your life, "I feel like there's nothing I can do with my life anymore, it is stagnant like that, it can't go further than this,"

"Or maybe, you haven't looked thoroughly enough," he commented.

"I don't intend to find out anyway," you meekly said, you hurriedly drank your cocktail and let the alcohol burn down the cries trying to escape your throat.

He stayed quiet but intently listened to you, tracing the rim of his glass with his index finger.

"And the third?"

"I told you," you beamed with a foolish smile, this time you were convinced you got a bit drunk.

"You're dying?"

You nodded then finished your drink with one long gulp.

"Figuratively?" He asked for confirmation.

You shook your head, "sadly, no," you said.

You folded your hands on the counter and rested your chin on it, "that's why I don't want to wait for my end to come," you said to him.

He sighed then tilted his head upward, looking up at the ceiling, "And they say life is beautiful?" He sneered at the vast emptiness of the bar.

You let a scornful laugh with eyes drooping lower with each passing second.

"Are those enough to appeal to you?" You asked.

He finished his drink and gasped once he gulped down all of his drink, "I'll think about it," he said.

You snickered, amused that he treated this as if it was real and that he seriously considering it.

"Yeah, take your time," you joked to him with a sleepy smile, and after that nothing.

A day in your life always went like this.

You woke up at 5:30 am, did your laundry then cook breakfast, showered then dressed up for work.

You went out and listened to your neighbor arguing about the trash bags again for the umpteenth time as you passed their door. You bought a cup of coffee and got on a bus to work, on a good day, someone would offer you to sit on their seat but that rarely happens.

You worked as a columnist for a newspaper but mostly, to write a review of children's books and or an event of people who paid the newspaper to write about it, who wanted it to be publicly known.

Your boss never took you seriously, that's why he only gave you jobs that other people won't take and also because you would accept everything he gave you.

"Let me guess, a reunion?" Kim asked, a co-worker who sits next to your desk.

"Close. It's an anniversary of a nursing home," you answered, "one of our executives is one of their biggest donators.”

"Well, of course! You'd better make his name big and bold in the article," she sneered.

"Noted!" You beamed in response.

The little delight in an office like this is to talk about lame things that would make you feel better about your life at least for a few seconds before you descend into the pit again.

You swiveled your chair in her direction, "did you perhaps see me leaving the Halloween party?"

She pursed her lips while tugging a pen between her teeth, "I think the last time I saw you was when you said you needed to get some fresh air," she answered.

You recalled everything you did that night, including the part where you went to the rooftop and almost plunge to your death but that didn't happen. You remembered someone stopped you, took you inside to have a drink then from there, it was a big blank.

You didn't know how you get home that night and woke up in a sweat, your Halloween costume stuck to your skin and your shoes neatly placed on the threshold.

"But I can't remember that night either. Someone from the printing got me on a taxi home," she grimaced.

"Oh yeah, I got a little drunk as well," you said despite your memory of last night was still blurry to you.

"I better get started on my article," then swiveled your chair back, pushed to your desk, and started working.

On the afternoon, you went to the pantry to make your fourth cup of coffee of the day. You waited for the machine to finish while looking out the window.

"Can you make me a cup too?" Someone asked from behind you.

You turned around to find Minho. Your friend since the first year of college, the one who asked you to intern at the newspaper together and got the jobs at the same time, the sole reason why you were still here and the one you've been secretly in love with, your first love and the only person you ever fall in love with, staring at you with a smile on his face.

"A black coffee for Minho. On it!" You said to him.

He walked up to you and helped you get a clean mug from the top cabinet.

His hand brushed yours as he handed the mug to you.

You carefully poured the hot coffee into his mug and ripped a pack of brown sugar to add to it.

"Exactly how I like it!" He exclaimed to you with a satisfied smile.

You walked out of the pantry together while carrying your mugs in your hands, catching up with each other since he worked in a different department with you.

"I didn't see you much at the Halloween party," he said.

You swallowed, "I left early," you quickly answered.

"Why? I think I looked for you all night," he said.

He exaggerated it but you took it that he was being nice to you like he always does to you, "I didn't feel well," you lied, but not entirely.

"It's going to get cold, you better start wearing warm clothes," he softly spoke with a hand on your shoulder.

"Sure, I will," you said.

Someone called for him from across the room and he excused himself and squeezed your shoulder before leaving you.

You followed where he was going, knowing well that what was going to happen next would agonize you.

He came to her girlfriend, stood next to her while she talked to him about something, putting all of his attention on her with a smile on his face.

"Is that for me?" She asked him, pointing to the mug of coffee in his hand.

He considered it for a second and handed it to her, "You can have it!"

And there you were, could only look at someone else having what you wanted the most, his love.

It was your fault. You want all that is not yours. You want someone who doesn't want you back. This was all your fault.

You walked back to your desk and plopped down your chair, took a haste sip of your coffee, and let it burn your tongue as a way to avert the stinging pain you felt inside with a physical one.

"I'm going home!" Your co-worker announced once the clock strike 5 o'clock.

"See you tomorrow!" She said to you then gathered all of her things from her desk.

"See you!" You said back before she exited the office.

You dragged yourself to put your things back into your bag and waited for that one saddest part of your day.

You waited and waited, then there he was, Minho glanced at you with a smile on his face, "hey, aren't you going home?"

"In a bit," you answered and forced a smile for him.

His girlfriend came to his side in a matter of seconds and held his hand, it was like she has a radar that would tell her whenever he got too close to you.

"Let's have dinner next time!" He said and he had said it more than dozens of times already but never did.

But still, the intention alone was enough for you, "Bye Minho!" You said to him.

"Bye!" He said to you then left with her girlfriend.

There was nothing that excites you anymore for the rest of the day, but to mourn your life in your tiny apartment.

You saw your mother's shoes on the threshold and knew right away that she came to your apartment unannounced like she always does.

"Mom, you came without telling me again," you told her because just like all mothers do, she likes being nosy and digging through your things.

She was squatting down in front of your fridge, then sighed, "You know what makes me really sad? When I found your fridge empty like this," she said with an edge to her voice.

"What did you expect, mom? I rarely cook," you told her.

"I'd rather have leftovers and expired food in your fridge than just these," she said as she took out all the empty water bottles.

You sighed because talking back to her would only lead to an endless argument so you refrained and tossed your bag on the empty chair.

"Come! Have dinner with me!" She ordered.

You reluctantly sat on the chair and let her serve you food, obeying her like this so she would go on her way faster and leave you alone for the rest of the night.

She asked the same questions, about life, work, friends, and everything that you have no interest in anymore, which is life in general.

"How's dad?" You finally asked, to stop her from asking more about your life.

"Enjoying his retirement like always," she answered.

Your parents were on the verge of giving up the idea of having children when they had you.

Your mom was in her late 30s when she had you, she almost died when she gave birth to you and that made you precious to them. You are their only child, the one that gave them a chance and the joy to be a parent, their only hope to continue their bloodline and carry their genes and soon to be their biggest disappointment.

She left after giving you a series of scolds, ruffling your hair like she always does since you were little and hugging you, then finally leaving you alone in your own private space.

You sat by the small balcony, hugging your knees while looking out the window, wrapping yourself in a blanket because of the cold gust of winter wind even though spring is around the corner.

You fell asleep on your bedroom floor and woke up to the excruciating migraine that always comes so suddenly, without warning.

You crawled to the bedside table and hoisted yourself to get on the bed, pulled open the drawer to take out the medicine.

You rummaged inside the drawer in the dark, shaking up the last of the pills onto your palm and shoved it down your throat, swallowed it down with a few gulps of water.

You sighed into the void of your bedroom and the walls echoed it back to you.

"You have to start your treatment immediately!" Your doctor insisted.

"Immediately!" He pressured you, completely annoyed with your nonchalant attitude about your own health.

He was the only one who cared about your well-being, even more than you do to yourself.

"I just need pills for the migraines," you told him in a calm manner.

He hissed and sighed through his gritted teeth.

"Do you have any idea how severe your condition is? You are dying! You'll die soon if you don't receive any treatment," he hopelessly reminded you of your grim future.

"I know that really well," you said to him.

Then again, your attitude only pissed him off more.

"Please, let me assist you. Let me help you, it's a shot in the dark but it's worth a try," he said to you, begging with all of his heart. He must have a lot of pity for you, an old man like him feeling sad for a young girl like you, to suffer such an illness instead of him who already bagged so many life experiences.

Aside from the fact that he's taken the Hippocratic oath, he probably thinks of you like his own daughter.

"Doctor, I don't want to receive any treatment. I just want pills for my migraines," you said again, sternly this time.

He reluctantly took his notepad and scribbled something on it, roughly ripped the paper before handing it to you.

"Please reconsider it before it's too late," he said to you.

"I will," you said despite your decision being final.

"Thank you!" You muttered to him at the end.

It started with the constant migraines and pounding headaches, then when it got too unbearable, you got it checked at the hospital.

When you think life can't be more bountiful, it came with a surprise gift: A tumor on your brain.

To put it simply, you were dying, you lived on numbered days and you have roughly 3 months or less to live according to what the doctor said.

You never had any suicidal thoughts before that, but then again, depression is one of the side effects of dying. Because a surprise gift wrapped in the prettiest bow,

You had informed the office that you'd be coming late and once you arrived, you got called to the editor's office because you didn't highlight the amount of donation the executive made to the nursing home and had to redo the whole article. You took one pill before started working, clenching your fists as you began typing on your keyboard, and just breathe.

As usual, you waited for the saddest part of your day to pass, holding his girlfriend's hand like she would fly away if he didn't, fingers intertwined, so tight.

"Hey, have a good evening!" He said to you.

At least he didn't promise the dinner again which made you quietly wish it came true one day.

"You too!" You said back to him with a thin smile.

You popped another pill even though the migraine had slowly diminished, or maybe you took it because you thought it would also lessen the intangible pain inside you.

You spent the night by the balcony again, sitting down by the sill, wrapped in a blanket looking at the half-moon shining so bright above the city.

It was at a time like this you always thought of death.

The question mainly focused on 'when'? When is the good time to die? Now? Tomorrow? Two days again? By the weekend? At the end of the month?

There was always something stopping you, either your brain offering you logical options, to call the hospital and seek treatment but most of the time, it was just the reminder that you need to take care of a few things before the one final, last breath.

It didn't make you sad at all, the more you thought about it the lighter you got like you were stripping away a layer of fear of yourself.

Accepting reality is easier than keep avoiding it.

You got up in the middle of the night feeling nauseous, immediately ran to the bathroom, then vomited into the toilet bowl. Tears, sweat, and hair stuck to your face, you flushed the toilet, collapsing on the bathroom floor after. Curled up on the tiled floor of the bathroom, suffering from the pain that you have to deal with until you eventually die.

After a moment of trying to gain your consciousness, you heard footsteps approaching your way through the vibration on the floor.

Your vision blurred with tears and you could make out the shape of a dark figure looming in the doorway of your bathroom, tall with a hint of red.

You were in no condition to either fight or fight, you barely had any strength to take a stand.

The figure approached you then you felt the warmth of his hand, cupping your cheek.

"You suffer so much," the figure said.

He ran his fingers down your face and forced you to close both of your eyes, it was a simple touch yet it worked to send you into a painless, dreamless sleep.

You made a cup of coffee the second you arrived at the office.

You could feel nauseous from last night lingering inside you and felt another cup of coffee would help. You felt a hand resting on the small of your back and quickly turned on your heel to see who it is, "oh Minho, good morning!" You said, half surprised to see him so early in the office like this.

"You came early!" He said to you.

If he paid attention to you just a little, he would know that you always come early, at the same time every morning.

"Yeah," you half-heartedly answered.

"Which is perfect!" He exclaimed, then leaned against the counter to face you, "I need your help," he said.

"What is it?"

"I have an article and I have to turn it in this afternoon. Can you help me edit it?" He asked as he ripped two packs of creamers with his teeth, then poured it into your coffee.

He stirred it with a spoon while you were holding the mug in your hand, he licked the spoon once he was done then tossed it onto the sink.

"Please?" He asked.

It became a habit of yours, to always submit to his wishes whether you intended to or not.

"Of course!" You said.

You huddled close together in front of his computer, editing the article together and mashing ideas together. He couldn't deny that the two of you made a great team, especially when it comes to writing, it has been like that since college.

"It reminds me of our college years," he said to you.

You turned your head a smiled at him, suddenly aware of the proximity that you hurriedly swiveled your chair to the other way.

"Yes," you sheepishly replied.

"Let me treat you to lunch today!" He said.

"No, it's okay, it's nothing," you kindly refused, holding up your hands at him.

He grabbed your hands and put them down on your lap, "just wait by your desk, I'll pick you up later!" he said with a smile.

Kim invited you for lunch like she always does but you refused since you waited for Minho to pick you up just as he promised.

But he didn't come, even after Kim came back from her lunch and gave you a puzzling look.

"I'm not that hungry," you lied to her and assured her that you felt like skipping lunch.

You got ready for leaving the office, shoving everything into your bag, and didn't even wait for the saddest part of your day to pass like you usually do.

You went home and slept the day away, when you woke up in the dark of your home, you found someone sitting on the balcony that you used to sit on.

You scrambled to turn on the light and found him.

The guy with the hellfire hair and luscious lips, eating an apple.

"I hope you don't mind me taking an apple from your fridge," he said to you.

You roughly pinched the bridge of your nose then rubbed the corner of your eyes, "How do you get in here?" You asked.

"Through the window," he answered.

"But uh... I-" your head was still drowsy.

"I don't think I have apples in the house," you tried again.

He softly sighed, "You should check your fridge because you have a whole box of it," he said.

He got off the balcony and entered your room, standing at the end of your bed looking at you, "I wanted to talk to you yesterday but you didn't look good," he said.

"Talk about what?" You scooted to the edge of the bed, then stopped, your head was spinning and your hands were shaking.

"You shouldn't have skipped lunch and dinner altogether," he said to you.

You limped to exit your bedroom and trudged your way to the kitchen, opened the fridge with all of your strength, finding a whole box of apples inside just like he said.

"Mom..." You sighed with your head still stuck inside the fridge.

He fitted himself in the small space and took two apples, "here, you have one and I have another," he said, handing one to you.

He didn't hesitate to take a bite of the apple and it made a delicious crunching sound that strangely evoke your appetite.

You caved in and took a bite, the sweet juice started to fill your mouth, satisfying your hunger and thirst at once.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, across from you, and looked at you as you stood there chewing on your apple.

"I've been thinking about it," he said.

"What?"

"About the deal."

"What deal?"

"That you want to sell your soul to me and in return I give you your desired death," he replied.

And it all came back rushing through your head like a bursting dam. He was the guy from that night, the one who helped you get off the ledge, who made you that sweet cocktail, and probably the one who took you home, that's why he knew your address.

You gasped and almost threw the apple away, "you're the guy from that night," you exclaimed at him.

"Glad you remember!" He said to you with an unimpressed look.

"The devil," you recalled.

"In the flesh," he finished your sentence.

"Except that you aren't real," you said.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he decided to move on "anyway, I brought the contract," he said, pulling out something from behind him, a piece of paper, worn and torn at the seam.

"I wrote down everything in the contract and you can read all of it," he paused to walk up to you then stopped just a step away from you, handing the paper to you.

"Just take your time, no need to rush to sign it and I'll be back before midnight," he said.

You took the paper from him and it smelled exactly like you imagined, a page of an old book.

"B–but how?" You asked in pure confusion.

You exhaled a long breath to calm your erratic breathing, "how do I know that this is all real?"

He soft chuckled while rubbing his chin with his knuckle, "just learn the contract paper," he said then took another bite of his apple before throwing the core into the trash bin.

He walked back to your bedroom and you were late to follow him, you caught the last of him getting out of your window to the balcony. But once you looked outside, there was no sight of him or the red of his hair anywhere.

It was like he just vanished into the night.

What kind of dream did you have last night?

But the details of your dream were too real to be considered just a dream, the apples were indeed there in the fridge, and the contract paper was on the dining table.

You were reading it when Kim all of sudden asked about it.

"Nothing, it's just a flyer," you waved her off and shoved the paper back into your bag.

The dullness of work suffocated you once again and to top that, Minho's girlfriend celebrated her birthday in the office and invited everyone to have something from the table full of a variety of food she ordered.

If Kim wasn't forcing you to have a slice of cake, you wouldn't have been here and eating the cake in silence, forcing it down your throat with your eyes uneasily looking at her, and then at Minho who stood so close like they were joined at the hip.

She sauntered in your direction and you quickly stuffed your mouth with the cake to avoid answering whatever she was going to ask.

"Seems like you really enjoyed the cake," Minho's girlfriend said.

You nodded with a mouth full of food, "yes, it's delicious," you shortly replied.

She smiled then brushed her hair to the back, intentionally showing something flashy on her hand, a diamond ring.

You knew she was baiting you to ask her the question but you didn't want to give her the satisfaction. You and Kim exchanged a glance, you guessed she noticed it too then looked in two different directions, to anywhere but her hand.

"Minho gave me the best birthday present," she blurted out when none of you asked about it.

You nodded but not saying anything.

"I didn't mean for anyone to know but I think good news should be shared, right?"

You stuffed more cake into your mouth and repeatedly noted, you really didn't want to know anything about that ring.

"We got engaged last night!" She announced, pitching her voice a bit louder for everyone around her to hear.

And suddenly, you had a hard time swallowing your food and it just stuck there in your esophagus.

People started making a ruckus then followed by congratulations from here and there.

You weren't sad or mad at all, you were just a little shaken inside. You forced yourself to swallow it all down inside you, whether it was the food or the bitter, harsh truth that you had to stop this masochistic infatuation.

Everyone's first love is meant to fail anyway.

Minho came to her side a moment later, looking unamused that the news was out. It baffled you how his eyes searched for yours first and not his girlfriend. You looked at each other but nothing came out from both of you.

Minho must be terribly stupid if he didn't know that you have feelings for him. It had been years and all these things you did out of devotion for him were too obvious to be missed.

You believed he knew but he decided to stay oblivious about it.

You got a little disappointed, at him and yourself, disappointed at him for leaving you hanging like this, and at yourself, for not having the courage just to say those three words to him.

"Congratulations!" You said to him, smiling even though you were close to tears.

"Thank you!" He meekly said.

You hated your heart so much for wanting what is not yours, for wanting what is not right, for wanting someone who doesn't want you back, for wanting him.

Your nausea returns when you were in the elevator heading down to the lobby. You felt the queasiness bubbling inside, you quickly covered your mouth and breathed through your nose, calming yourself with eyes uneasily looking at the floor number going down with each level.

You broke into a run when the elevator doors slid open, flung to the nearest bathroom, and pushed any door of the stall to find the one that was available.

You vomited everything out into the toilet bowl which got you retching and gasping for air at once.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kim asked.

You didn't know she was following you until she stood by the door clutching your bag in her hands.

"You dropped your bag," she said, one hand keeping the door of your stall open.

You took a tissue and roughly wiped your mouth with it, "Can you please get me my pills from inside my bag?" You begged.

"Sure, sure!" She fumbled to unzip your bag and shoved her hand inside to take out your medicine.

"Give me two," you said to her, holding out your palm at her.

She complied, shook the container until two pills rolled out then handed them to you.

You dry swallowed them and closed your eyes with your back resting against the partition.

"I have water," she offered, pulling out bottled water from her bag.

She uncapped the bottle before giving it to you.

"Thanks!" You muttered.

"Are you sick?" She asked.

You let out a long shaky breath, "I have this..." you paused to take another sip of water, "acute migraine," you lied.

She checked your body temperature but you seemed fine to her except for how you looked, "you look so pale," she sadly said.

"I just took my meds. I'll be okay," you assured her.

She helped you get up from the floor, smoothing down your skirt and fixing your coat, "you should get a taxi home!"

"Yeah, that's a good idea," you told her since there was no use in refusing her kind suggestion.

You sat on the couch waiting for the red-haired whatever man to really come just as he promised last night.

You sat cross-legged and read the contract paper over and over again, still wondering why you played along with him.

"I believe you have read the contract one too many times," he said, appearing out of nowhere behind you.

He walked so gracefully like a model down a fashion runway, poised and cool, his all-black attire supported the whole model's off-duty look.

"How do I know that you're the real devil?" You asked him, never the type to dillydally, especially when it comes to making a deal that involves your life.

"Isn't it obvious enough?" He asked with arms outstretched.

"Or are you hoping that I have horns and red-skinned, scary eyes and claws? Like that?"

You shrugged, "sort of."

He laughed, "my job is to tempt you human and you expect me to do that while looking like a scary creature out of a fantasy book?"

You pursed your lips and shrugged again, "well, that makes sense now," you said, settling the issue with an agreement.

You unfolded the contract paper and pointed to one of the points, "it said that you'll be with me every day. What's that mean?"

"What it literally means. I'll be with you every day, not for the whole 24 hours, of course. I have stuff to do," he said.

"What? Bartending?"

He scoffed.

"That's just ridiculous, I'm not going anywhere," you protested.

"I'm protecting my asset here because what if you had a change of heart?" He sat on the single sofa across from you, crossing his legs and propping a hand under his chin.

"I promise you, I will not," you assured him.

He softly rubbed his lips with his index finger, "are you sure it's not because your unrequited love just got engaged?"

That caught you off guard, "how do you know?"

"I told you, I keep an eye on my asset," he said, now spreading his legs open and propping his elbows on his knees.

You got quiet because you didn’t expect him to know this much about your life.

"So, it's not because of him?"

"No," you strongly denied.

"Let's not take a haste decision," he suggested.

You shook your head, "I think we should sign the contract!” You persisted, took a pen and placed your sign on the bottom corner of the paper.

He laughed when you slid the paper and pen at him, then said, "your turn!"

He burst out laughing, "and you think when you made a pact with the devil signing a paper would do it?"

You glared at him and hissed in irritation, "why didn't you-"

He took the paper and burned it on his palm, turning the paper into ash and smoke.

Your eyes widened in slight shock, it was like a magic trick, except that he wasn't using any trick and no equipment.

"Impressed?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

You cleared your throat and acted coy about it, "no, but you’ll make a great birthday magician," you told him despite what he just pulled off scared you a little but you tried not to get intimidated by him and repressed it by acting nonchalantly.

He stared deep into your eyes as if he tried to look into your head and see what you were thinking. He didn't look away as he pulled out something from the inner pocket of his black suit jacket.

A locket with a thin gold chain and the pendant isn't bigger than your thumb. He hung it around his hand and showed it to you.

He put it inside his palm after you stared at it long enough.

"Before we make a pact, you haven't decided on your death yet," he reminded you.

"Huh?"

"I promise you your desired death, but the how and when, you haven't told me yet," he clicked his tongue repeatedly, "you have to be specific when making a pact with the devil," he said while squinting his eyes at you.

"Oh?" You exclaimed. He was right, you were rushing everything and you weren't aware of who you are dealing with.

"I want to die peacefully," you said.

"Like drowning?"

"How is that peaceful?" You asked in disbelief.

"Well, it's in the water and it's quiet. Peaceful!"

You winced, "I want to go..." you raked your brain for the right word to say, "quietly."

He scrunched his nose, thinking of an idea.

"I want to die in my sleep," you offered yours before he gave you other strange ways to die.

"Okay, I can do that," he said.

"Next question: when?" He asked, leaning forward at you in curiosity.

"Soon," you shortly replied.

"How soon?"

"Soon enough."

"Tomorrow?"

"Too soon," you snarked.

"A week from now?"

"No."

"One month from now?"

"Too long," you said.

He rolled his eyes in a rather dramatic way and came up with a suggestion real quick, "13 days, that's my final offer!"

You thought it over, two weeks. Would you be able to get your affairs in order in two weeks? It was kind of ideal, it wasn't soon nor late, it was right.

"Deal!"

He got up from the sofa and you unconsciously followed him, getting up from the couch as well. You both took a step closer and stood facing each other in the small living room of your apartment.

"Give me your hand!" He ordered.

You complied and held out your hand at him.

He took a breath to finally grab your hand, wrapping his hand around you and you did the same.

"Are you sure you want to sell your soul to me?" He asked, sounding all business and serious.

You swallowed air then cleared your throat before answering, "yes."

"And in return, you want a peaceful death?"

"Yes."

"13 days from now?"

"Yes," you undoubtedly replied.

A fire alight, setting both your clasped hands in a blazing fire but surprisingly, you didn't feel hot or in pain, it was warm, like your hand wrapped in mittens.

"Oh fuck!" You cursed under your breath, it shocked you but weirdly, you didn't try to take your hand away from him. Your eyes flicked to his face, his eyes turned into shades lighter than the usual dark eyes, gleaming like the eyes of a tiger in the dark.

"In a matter of 13 days, your soul will be mine," he said with eyes that looked right into you, so deep like he talked right into your soul that soon will be his.

You couldn't lie but felt a little frightened inside, you could feel beads of cold sweat form on your back and probably seep into your shirt.

"Congratulations, your life is officially cursed and you'll burn in hell forever!" He said with a smile that was the opposite of what he said to you. Then the fire went off, he let go of his hand to take out the locket again and opened it to reveal what looked like a clock but strangely, there was no number on it, just the needles.

"Places your thumb on it!" He ordered.

"Where?"

He gently led your thumb to the little needle in the center of the locket and pressed your thumb on it.

You yelped when your fingerpad made a contact with it, you pulled your hand away out of reflex to see that you had pricked your finger on the needle of the small clock inside the locket.

The drop of blood started filling the locket, crimson-colored liquid spread inside like a blooming flower then magically, the clock started ticking. The clock ran backward and that was when you realized that it was counting down the time to your death.

"13 days!" He said to you, opening your hand to place the locket on your palm.

You stared at the clock that counted down the time that led to your death.

Tick, tick, tick.

You had been wasting a full 60 seconds just staring at it in a mix of wonder and fear, you have a lot to say yet you were so speechless. You quickly shut the locket and put the chain around your neck, then you felt it, the weight of the pact you just made with the devil.

He helped you by fixing the hair caught in your necklace, "I brought just the right drink for the occasion!" He announced.

He poured wine into your mug in such elegance and didn't spill a drop by quickly spinning the bottle, then wiped it with a napkin.

You clank your mugs together since you don't have any wine glasses in the apartment.

"To cursed life!" He said as you both made a toast.

"To cursed life!" You repeated his words in a low, hesitated voice.

He sipped his wine and made it look like he sipped ambrosia in a goblet instead of wine in a mug.

"Having a second thought?" He asked, catching you holding the locket resting on your chest.

You quickly shook your head, "no."

"What are you going to do on your last few days in the mortal world?" He asked, tracing the rim of his mug with his index finger.

"Get my affairs in order," you replied, clasping your hands around your mug like you were seeking warmth from it.

"You need help?" He asked.

You awkwardly laughed, "what can you do?"

"I can do a little mischief here and there," he said, his finger flying to his lips, playing with the plump of his lower lip.

"That would be against my plan of 'going quietly'," you reminded him.

"What's with 'going quietly'? Why not 'go with a bang'?" He suggested, making a gesture of explosion above his head.

"I just..." you paused because you didn't know the answer. Why you should go quietly?

"I think it's easier that way," you replied with an answer that you weren't confident in.

He nodded and didn't ask further about it. He took another sip and let the silence hang in the air between you and him.

You looked at him, in his usual attire of black outfit and red hair slicked back, pale skin with eyes back to their intense black color.

And you wondered how he ended up here?

"What should I call you?" You suddenly asked him.

"You can call me baby, darling, love," he listed all the pet names he liked to be called with.

"I don't like to be called cutie, but for you, I'll allow it," he finished with a wide smile that made him look more human than he was supposed to be.

You rolled your eyes at him and inaudibly sighed.

"Hyunjin," he quickly said.

"You can call me Hyunjin," he said again while taking another sip of his wine.

You nodded, and that was enough information for the day. That he really is the devil, named Hyunjin and you just made a pact with him. Your eyes shot at the locket and at the reminder of it, you heard the sounds of the seconds being deducted from your life.

Tick, tick, tick.

D-13.

"That's a nice necklace!" Kim beamed the moment she noticed the necklace dangling around your neck.

"Oh, this?" You asked her.

"Is it vintage?"

"Uh..." you stalled to find an answer, "yes, I bought it online," you lied.

"That's so nice!" She praised.

"Text me the online shop cause I want one,"

You stifled a nod, "yes, I will," you lied again.

At this point, you didn't care about all the lies you tell people, you are going to burn in hell for eternity anyway.

You were coming back from lunch with Kim when you met Minho in the lobby, he looked like he was waiting for you from the way he got up from his seat the moment he saw you coming through the entrance.

"Hey, want to have coffee together?" He asked you.

Kim realized that he didn't ask for her to be present there and excused herself to go back to the office.

"Okay," you replied.

You had been sitting facing each other and the cups of iced coffee dripping wet from the condensation, you waited for him to say something with your hands clasped under the table.

"What is it, Minho?" You asked him because he kept quiet the whole time you sat there.

"You have something to say to me?"

It seemed like he was unable to decide what he wants to talk about first, you guessed he wanted to talk about yesterday.

"I wasn't planning on proposing to her," he blurted out.

You looked at him rather wide-eyed, didn't expect him to say it like that.

"I was planning on gift her a ring. Not proposing to her," he explained.

"But her parents were present and she got ecstatic the moment she saw it," he paused to catch a breath, "I couldn't just say that I didn't mean to propose to her, she looked so happy. I-"

"Minho, I'm not asking," you reminded him.

His face gradually turned sour, "I just thought that maybe I need to explain-"

"Whatever you do or did or done with your girlfriend is none of my business," you quickly told him, settling the matter before he pried more than you allowed him to.

Your words seemed to surprise him and he was quiet for a while, "I don't want things to change between us," he said.

You badly wanted to ask him what exactly you two have. What you are to him? And what he takes you for?

"What are you talking about? We'll always be good friends," you remarked with a sweet smile.

A smile bloomed on his face, "yeah, of course, we'll always be good friends, right?"

You nodded even though he clearly drew the invisible line that you shouldn't cross.

He took a long sip of his coffee and gasped in satisfaction, "I'm writing a special article," he said.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, "yes, it's for the spring special-themed article," he replied.

You stirred your iced coffee with the straw, making the ice cubes clink against the glass.

"That's great, Minho!" You complimented him without looking at him.

"Can you help me with it?" He asked.

"I like it when we work together," he added.

You stirred and stirred, watched as the coffee made a swirl inside your glass.

"Please?"

You stopped stirring when the coffee was about to slosh out of the glass, "sure, I'd love to," you said.

There you go, making the same mistake over and over again, despite knowing that you would only get pain in return.

You were brushing your teeth when you saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

You got startled that you spat onto the sink, "coming back from whispering evil deeds into people?" You sneered at him then washed your mouth with running water.

He folded his hands and leaned against the door of your bathroom, "yes, and I should've told you to throw your iced coffee at him," he sneered back.

You got quiet, he wasn't only spying on your life but also knew what happened between you and the people around you.

You got on your bed and covered your body up to your chest with the duvet.

"That's it for the day?" He asked you.

"I'm going quietly," you reminded him with your back facing him.

He softly chuckled, "Goodnight!"

You didn't reply but the lingering silence got you curious if he was still there watching you sleep. You turned on your bed but he was already gone.

D-12

You haven't gotten to your desk yet when you got called to the editor's office, papers flying in your direction the moment you got in.

"You called this a piece of writing?" He asked you, the veins on his neck popped and strained in rage.

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut off you again with his shout, "do it all over again!"

You picked up the paper from the floor and took it with you back to the desk, you saw that this wasn't even your writing, it was someone else's but he had done it a handful of times, which means he wanted you to fix the writing and rewrite it again.

"Why does he always blame you for the mistakes others did?" Kim nagged with her head snapped at the editor's office.

You shrugged.

"Why didn't you say something?" She said with exasperation.

"You know it's useless," you responded while stacking the paper by its order.

She heavily sighed but didn't say anything back because she also knew that the editor is a really stubborn piece of work.

You spaced out while clutching your locket on your chest, feeling the ticking with every breath you took.

You could feel every second without needing to open the locket.

Tick, tick, tick.

"I knew that you'll be here," Minho said as he found you waiting for the coffee machine done making the coffee.

You turned on your heels, "yes, hi," you nervously answered.

"Have you got your coffee yet? I want to show you something," he said.

You nodded and collected your mug filled with freshly made coffee, "yes."

He took you to his desk and showed you the article he was writing for the spring-themed article, you scanned the words but the lines kept slipping off your mind, unable to focus.

"Yes, it's good," you said to him.

"Are you sure?"

"Uhm..." you hummed in confusion, your hand flew to your temple but nothing came to mind.

"I'm sorry, I can't seem to focus," you gave up trying and apologized.

He smiled at you, "it's okay, we can work on it some other time," he assured you.

You smiled back at him and took your mug with you, "sorry," you muttered.

"Let's have lunch together!" He suggested again, stopping you on your track.

"I can't. I have a doctor's appointment," you told him and it felt good on rejecting him without having to lie.

"Oh? Okay," he replied.

You didn't have a doctor's appointment but the doctor kept on calling you to come to the hospital, probably his last endeavor to convince you to get treatment.

And you were right, "I have thought it over like you asked and my decision is final, I will not get treatments," you sternly told him.

He sighed in defeat, pulled his drawer open, and placed a brochure right in front of you.

"Will you at least consider coming to this?" He asked.

You could tell that the brochure was a support group for cancer patients and survivors. It was a hard pass but to put an ease on the doctor's mind, you smiled and said, "maybe I will," you answered.

You were reading a children's book for you to review when he came, reading the title of the book out loud, "Chase the end of the rainbow," he recited, then chuckled.

"There is literally nothing at the end of the rainbow," he sneered then plopped down on the single sofa.

"It's just rain and puddles," he added then put his long legs on the coffee table.

You lowered the book enough to look at him, "did you make anyone cry today?" You playfully asked.

"I broke the ice cream machine again," he bragged, "I think yes, a few people cried."

"How fun!" You exclaimed with fake enthusiasm then flipped the page of the book.

He watched you reading the book, then got curious about it, he sat next to you and leaned so close to you so he could read it too.

You could smell the faint of his natural scent, of something strong, a bit musk and smokey. You turned your head just enough to see him, the side profile of his perfectly sculpted face and its facial features that complement each other.

He is so beautiful, it didn't make sense to you.

You shut the book and gave it to him, "you can read it," you said to him then went to your bedroom.

"Goodnight!" He shouted to you before you shut your bedroom door.

D-11

"Hey, you haven't sent me the name of the shop for that beautiful necklace," Kim said as she placed a cup of iced coffee on your desk.

You faked an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, I forgot," you muttered.

"Thanks for the coffee!" You added and took a sip.

Kim leaned at your computer screen to read the article you were writing and read it loud enough for both of you, she sighed when she came to the end of the paragraph.

"Sometimes I wonder why you're stuck here with me," she mumbled with a hand on her waist.

"You're literally wasting your talent here," she said with a hand on your shoulder.

You could only smile at her but you were sure that a new job wouldn't make a difference anyway. The tumor would still be there in your brain and you still be as miserable as you were here so what's the point?

You were waiting for the elevator to arrive when Minho took your hand and grinned when you looked at him.

"Have lunch with me!" He said while shaking your hand.

You turned your head at Kim, "I'm going with Kim," you said.

Minho looked at her, "mind if I borrow her for today?" He sweetly asked.

Kim uneasily glanced at you and caught the signals you threw at her with your eyes, but she said the opposite thing, "sure."

Minho always looked more relaxed when her girlfriend isn't around, she was having a meeting outside of the office and that was also why he bravely took you out for a lunch.

"You don't like it?" He asked.

"I'm not that hungry," you replied. You've been eating your food little by little. It comes as no surprise that losing your appetite is also a side effect of dying.

He looked at you with his head slightly tipped to the side, "you look a little pale," he said.

You took a sip of water, "I've been having trouble sleeping," you said but didn't tell him it was because of the migraine that kept you awake.

He reached for your face and pressed the back of his hand, checking your temperature, "you're a bit warm," he said.

You put his hand away from your face and gently put it down on the table, "I'm okay. I'm alright," you assured him.

He doubted you but nodded, continued eating his food, and shifted the conversation elsewhere.

"Remember the second year of college? That time we got on the back of the pick-up truck with the stage props, it was raining and we were both sick with flu the next day," he was talking with a smile on his face like the memory was so vivid to him.

Yes, those days were the happiest because it was so much simpler back then. It was just you and him stressing over college and nothing else. There was little responsibility, no articles to write, there was no girlfriend who keeps him on a leash and you didn't know that there was a tumor growing in your brain.

"You were sick but you insisted on taking care of me," he suddenly got all serious.

You gripped the fork in your hand tighter because why did he take you on an unwanted trip down memory lane? Shouldn't he know that those memories would only be nothing more than just memories? Soon he'd be forgetting all about it as he makes new ones with his dear fiancé.

"I'm finished," you said, putting down your cutlery and sliding the plate aside.

"I'll take care of the bill!" You announced because you needed to be as far away as possible from him.

He grabbed you by the elbow, "I'll do it!"

"No, you finish your meal! I have to go to the restroom anyway," you said with a thin smile and put his hand away.

On the way back to the office, Minho talked about the article he was writing but your mind was elsewhere, drifting here and there.

"So, what do you think?" Minho asked.

"Mmh?"

He cracked a laugh, "you weren't listening," he meekly said.

You shoved your hands into your coat pockets, "I'm sorry."

"Have a lot in your head?"

Aside from the tumor? You asked in your head.

"Not really," you answered.

He pushed the door open and held it open for you.

"Shouldn't you have a lot in your head?" You asked back.

He scanned his ID card before entering the building, "what do you mean?"

"You know with the engagement and everything," you casually said.

You didn't mean to but he was the one who started talking about those days when in reality, those days are over and he should be worrying about the accidental engagement.

Minho got quiet but strangely, you didn't feel bad at all. The sound of the elevator dinging open saved Minho from the question and you both got into the elevator.

Right before the doors slid shut, you caught a red-haired man smiling at you from afar, so sinister like a Chesire cat.

Out of reflex, you clutched the locket on your necklace and felt the needles counting down the seconds of your life.

Tick, tick, tick.

"You have 11... uh no wait, 10 days more to live and your plan is to finish your favorite TV series," Hyunjin said as he plopped down on the sofa next to you and took a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

"Did you happen to whisper any evil things into my ear?"

His eyebrows knitted together, "where?"

"At the office."

"When?"

"A little after lunch."

He shook his head, "not sure," he vaguely answered and filled his mouth full of popcorn.

You looked at him and observed him, trying to figure him out.

He grabbed your chin, then turned your head to face the TV.

"If you're the devil that means you've been to hell?" You asked out of the blue.

"You make it sound like going to hell is a hospital visit," he said and slumped on the sofa.

"So?"

"I came from hell."

"You were born there?"

He shrugged and took another handful of popcorn.

"Is it really that hot?" You asked out of pure curiosity and did everyone a favor for asking it.

"You'll find out soon," he shortly replied.

You pouted but despite the disappointing answers, your curiosity remained the same.

"Do you mingle with humans?"

He leered at you, "mingle?"

"You know, have a relationship with human..." your words trailed off, again, this was out of pure curiosity.

"Like us?" he pointed to both you and him.

You snorted, "what we have is a business deal."

"Like you and Minho then?" He teased.

You grimaced, "pfft... I hope not."

He chuckled and tugged a popcorn between his teeth, "why are you so curious?"

You put the bowl of popcorn onto his lap so hard sending some of it falling onto the floor, "You know everything about my life but I don't know anything about you and I'm going to die in 10 days, so please, entertain this dying lady," you complained.

He gently placed a hand on your elbow and it felt hot but bearable, "no need to be that hopeless," he playfully said.

You glared at him.

"The answer is yes," he finally admitted.

That intrigued you, so he did mingle with humans and your focus next was to figure out what kind of relationship he's into.

"How?"

You nodded.

"I don't think there are that many differences in how I have sex with how humans have sex," he casually said.

"Oh?" His answer took you aback.

"Oh!" You said again when it finally registered to you. So, it was all just physical to him. You didn't know why you expect more in the first place?

"What? You think I want to be romantically involved with the mortals?" He asked with a condescending smirk.

The way he said 'mortals' made it sound like humans are pathetic creatures just like how humans think of worms.

"Who knows?" You said with a shrug but deep down, you wished that he got karma for saying that.

He sighed and took the remote, replaying the episode from the beginning.

"Hey, I was watching that!" You said and tried to snatch the remote back from him.

"Be honest, you didn't watch any of it because you kept asking me questions," he said and hid the remote behind his back.

"How mature of you!" You sneered.

He stuck his tongue out at you in response.

You shook your head in disbelief that this entity sitting next to you is the devil and he came from hell.

D-10

You've been busy trying to finish an article since this afternoon and it seemed like you have to work overtime.

As soon as you finished and submitted it, your editor gave you another one to rewrite.

When you came back to your desk, Minho was there sitting on your desk and playing with your stress ball.

"Why are you here?" You asked and you didn't mean to be brash. It was just that everyone in the office already left and you were stuck there to pick up after someone's mess

If Minho wanted to remember the good old days with you, he should know that this wasn't the right time for it.

"I saw that your bag and coat are still here," he answered and got off your desk.

"I'm busy. I have to finish another article today," you simply said and hoping that he'd just leave you alone.

"Do you need help?"

"I'll handle it myself," you refused with a thin smile.

"Sure. I'm sure you can handle it well," he said but he seemed rather disappointed by the answer.

He smacked his lips together then he put a small paper bag on your desk, "this is for you!"

He slid the paper bag until it was right in front of you, "you said you have trouble sleeping so I bought you some chamomile tea and I think there are other kinds of tea too inside—"

He always does this, putting you on a pedestal, raising your hope and when you thought you stacked your hope high enough to reach him, he knocked it all down.

Over and over and over again and the end is always the same, he left you alone to pick up the pieces.

"You don't like it?" He asked since you got really quiet.

"I like it, thanks. But just stop," you replied and pushed the paper bag back to him.

"I bought it for you," he said and pushed it back to you.

You looked at him right in the eyes, "no. I want you to stop doing anything nice!" You enunciated every word so he heard you loud and clear.

He looked rather confused by what you said and cracked a laugh, "Why?"

"I just need you to stop being nice to me unless you're going to be with me," you dared to hold eye contact with him.

He cracked another laugh, probably thinking you were playing with him.

"You think I'm being funny?"

His laugh died down and his face turned serious.

"See? You can't keep being nice to me and I can't keep pretending that this is something that it's not!" You told him.

Since half of it already spilled out of your mouth, the rest would have to come out as well.

"We've been friends for years. You know me, you know who I am," your voice quivering because it hurts letting these words out of your chest, "you either want to be with me or not."

Minho opened his mouth to speak but close it again, when he managed to say something, he was stammering, "we're friends and I don't want to make it complicated—"

How dare he said all that when he's the one who had been playing with your feelings and made things complicated!

"Bullshit!" You cut him off midsentence, "it's just bullshit!"

It seemed like you just spat acid at him that he stood there with his feet nailed to the floor.

"Where is this coming from?" He probably couldn't believe that his friend who's always said yes to everything he said holding this much anger inside of her.

"From the place I've been hiding from you for about three years," it was painful to admit how miserable you were pining for him for the last three years.

"Three years because I haven't wanted to seem demanding and I haven't wanted to seem needy or pathetic or… whatever!"

The tears rolled down your cheeks and you wiped them with your knuckle, "so, I haven't asked you."

You stared into his eyes again, wide and surprised at your confession.

"But I..." the tears caught in your throat the more you tried to fight them, "I have to. I mean..."

Despite having an inkling of what his answer would be, you gave him another chance by asking him the only question he needed to answer once and for all.

"Do you want to be with me?"

From the silence that Minho let it went on too long, you knew what the answer is. It was exactly like you had predicted and he didn't need to say it out loud, you knew.

Tears streamed down your face and you looked down at your lap, hiding your sadness from him.

You quickly recovered, wiping your wet cheeks with the back of your hand, and looked at him again.

At that moment, you decided that it was time to put an end to this.

"I can't do this anymore, Minho."

You left him and went someplace to cry by yourself, consoled yourself with the fact that you can start letting him go. Years of loving him only brought you tears and pain.

Minho left the paper bag on your desk and you shoved it inside your drawer and started working on the second article before it got really late.

"Before you go home, can you do another one?" Your editor asked as you've just submitted the article.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir!"

His forehead creased, unamused by your answer, "what are you talking about?"

As you worked by yourself at your desk while crying from breaking up with someone who's not even your boyfriend, Kim's words replayed in the back of your head. She spoke the truth that day, that you've been wasting your talent here and no one even had an ounce of respect for you in there.

And you came to a decision to, "I quit," you said and handed him the freshly printed resignation letter.

"Thank you for these past..." you paused to think of a word to describe your experience of working in this office and none came to mind except negative words.

"...wonderful years, sir!" You decided to end it with a nice note because you weren't the same with them but you didn't wait for his approval.

You let out a big sigh when you got out of his office, packed your things, and left.

You used to think that losing a job is a frightening thing but after you did it, it wasn't that bad at all. The world is still spinning and the sky isn't falling down on you. If anything, you have fewer things to worry about.

You sat on the balcony with a blanket wrapped around you, looking out at the view and the night sky.

Funny that you missed having Hyunjin around when all he does is annoy you.

This empty space only made you think of what happened that day, with you and Minho, and how things ended.

Maybe you were selfish for wanting him but he has no right to toy with your feelings, maybe you did ruin years of friendship but it felt so right.

Yet you were crying as you curled up on the bed and the tears seeped into your pillow.

A part of you was glad that Hyunjin wasn't there. You could imagine him making fun of you for looking so miserable on your last days on earth.

D-9

You forgot that you're unemployed, you woke up, showered, and cooked breakfast then when it hits you that you didn't have to go to work, you have no idea what to do next.

You might be dying but how could you forget being a normal person?

You ended up watching TV and ate the endless supply of tangerines your mom secretly put in your fridge. You napped and ordered lunch, watched some more TV, read some news on the internet, ate some more tangerines, and tried to cook yourself dinner.

You gave up when you couldn't find anything in your fridge. Your mom is right, it was an alarming thing to see an empty fridge.

"How do you like your unemployment?" Hyunjin appeared when you closed the fridge.

You sighed and took your phone, scrolling down the list of restaurants to order your dinner. "Fantastic!" You replied but with a deadpan.

He leaned on the kitchen island and looked at your phone screen, "Let's have some meat for dinner!"

You tipped your phone and got it out of his sight, continued scrolling.

When the food came, you spread them on the table in the living room and sat on the floor. You treated yourself to a big dinner since it was your first day of unemployment. From the amount of food you ordered, they put in three pairs of chopsticks and Hyunjin successfully secured a pair.

"You can't finish all this food by yourself," he said with squinted eyes then tore open the paper wrapper with his teeth.

You ignored him and started opening the lids, sending the mouth-watering smell wafting around the room. You slapped Hyunjin's hand as he went straight for the sliced meat.

You hissed, reminding him who had the right to eat it first since you bought it and doing so with a smirk on your face while he waited for you to finish, tugging the end of the chopsticks between his teeth.

"Can I have it now?" He asked.

Something about him reminded you of that naughty kid you knew in kindergarten, who liked to scare you by holding a caterpillar close to your face with a stick. He's annoying but in the most childish way and that was strange when you remembered that he came from hell.

"You were so cool yesterday," he said with a mouth full of rice but managed to put on a proud grin at you.

You continued eating but listened intently to what he said with stuffed cheeks.

"Breaking up with Minho," he continued.

"Oh wait, is it called breaking up even though you're not dating?"

You stabbed a piece of omelet with your chopsticks and ate it in one bite.

"I think you're the coolest when you..." he put down his chopstick and demonstrated how you slammed the resignation letter on your boss's desk.

"That's so badass!" He added in awe.

You couldn't remember the last time someone complimented you and how nice it feels, you didn't want to show him that so you suppressed your laugh by stuffing your mouth with more food.

"But winter isn't really a good time to quit your job you know," he continued, "I heard you spend more money during the winter because of gas, electricity..."

You blocked his chopsticks from taking more food and put them away, glaring at him.

He grinned at you with apologetic eyes, "I mean... why don't you get another job?"

"Why should I?" You simply asked.

He shrugged, "you have that thing called what... ambition or something like that."

"I'm not that ambitious," you said and it was true, you have enough from living day to day.

"If a painter dreams of having their paintings hung in the Louvre then a writer like you must have dreamed of seeing your writing somewhere, right?" He asked again.

It took you back to when you were in college and thinking of getting a job as a writer. You did the internship intending to fill in your resume and what happened years after that, let's say you were foolish enough for following a man and not your dream. You do have one and it is to write for the Daily K newspaper.

"I do," you answered.

He pointed his chopsticks at you, "Why don't you try to apply for a job there?"

You took a sip of water and thought why do you bother trying, it's a shot in the dark.

"I only have to live for a few more days anyway," you answered with a shrug.

"That's the point! You only have a few more days to live so you have nothing to lose, right?" He was talking but his eyes were looking at the last piece of meat and he knew that you noticed.

When you thought about it again then yes, you have nothing to lose. You can apply for a job and whether you got accepted or not, it wouldn't hurt since you'll be leaving the world forever.

You pushed the plate with the last piece of meat at him.

A smile rose on his face with his eyes formed two crescent moons.

How long was it since the last time you updated your resume? It was a long time ago that you couldn't remember it and you've been staring at your laptop screen, didn't know what to do with it.

"Shouldn't you be like... write something about yourself?" Hyunjin said, lying on the sofa and flicking the channels on the TV while you sat on the carpeted floor.

"Yeah sure, my bleak life story would make them hire me," you sneered and propped a hand under your chin, still trying to come up with something to write.

"Maybe all you need is a shot of courage!" Hyunjin said.

You looked over your shoulder but he was no longer on the sofa, he was there in the kitchen holding a bottle of tequila at you.

"No thanks!" You turned down his idea straight away and looked back at your laptop, still having no idea what to write. "Where did you find it though?"

He uncapped the bottle, "it was hidden under the sink," he said and poured himself a shot of tequila.

Ah, you remembered that's where you hide your alcohol just in case your mom is coming unannounced and doing an inspection around your place.

He hissed after taking a shot and looked at you, "you sure you don't want it?"

"Nah."

"To relax the nerves?" He persuaded you once more and shook the bottle at you, his red hair looking like a swaying flame under the fluorescent light.

It was really tempting and you really did need a shot of courage, "I can't do this sober anyway," you finally caved in.

Hyunjin brought the bottle and two shot glasses to the living room with a grin on his face. He initiated a toast, raising his shot glass in the air, and said, "To cursed life!"

You clank your drink with his and meekly repeated his words, "To cursed life!"

You were too confident in yourself and could handle the alcohol well since you had a big dinner earlier. Somehow, your brain worked after a few shots and your fingers started typing nonstop. When you were done, you read it out loud to Hyunjin and asked for his opinions.

"Booooooring!" He booed, stacking his hands together and putting his chin on top.

"You should write it how you would write an article for them," he said, his plush lips red and puckered.

"Can you even get drunk?"

He closed his eyes, then grinned, "No."

You scoffed and started writing again while Hyunjin refilled both of your glasses with more alcohol. He really is the goddamn devil that you couldn't keep track of how many shots you have taken. It was blurry from there, your fingers didn't feel like they were typing but you saw how the page slowly filled with words.

You remembered reading it to him after and he laughed. You didn't know what was so funny about all this but you laughed to the point that you almost spit your drink. You both huddled in front of your laptop together and drank more tequila straight from the bottle in turns.

"This is it!" He said.

"I don't know. This sounds... so..."

"Out of this world?"

You laughed.

"Send it!"

You moved the cursor to the send button.

Hyunjin brought his mouth close to your ear, "hit the send button!"

You shivered, "oh, the devil's whisper!"

"Hit it!" He said right into your ear, a little louder.

You pushed him away while giggling and covered your ears, "okay, okay!"

You squinted your eyes with your finger only an inch away from clicking, sending in your resume through an email.

When you opened your eyes, there was a pop-up notification that the email has been sent.

"Oh fuck!" You sighed and lay yourself down on the carpeted floor.

Hyunjin lay there next to you, "see? It's not that hard!"

You stared at the ceiling with your eyes started drooping, "I'm so tired."

"You should go to bed it's cold in here," Hyunjin nudged your shoulder with his.

But it felt comfortable and you could barely keep your eyes open anymore.

"I'm sleepy," you whined.

"It's cold!" He grumbled.

Without opening your eyes, you grabbed his arm and held it close. His body heat was enough to keep you warm.

"It's warm now," you slurred and started to slowly drift into sleep.

D-8

You woke up with a cold sweat and fumble to get off the bed, then reality hits you like a bucket of cold water.

"Fuck, I keep forgetting that I'm unemployed," you groaned and went back to sleep.

You woke up after a few more hours of sleep and ordered lunch right away. Ignoring the mess from last night, an empty bottle of tequila, the dirty dishes on the table, and your laptop died from running out of battery.

Your head was pounding but you knew that it was not the usual migraine, it was the hangover.

You took a shower next, trying to get rid of the alcohol stinks, and washed the hangover away.

You felt a little better in the afternoon but your stomach still felt a little sick. You opened the fridge to only groan at how empty it was except for the bottles of water and a half box of tangerines.

You rummaged through the box of your office stuff and found the paper bag Minho gave to you that day. There were boxes of different kinds of teas inside with the name of the tea and what it's good for written on each box.

Putting your pride aside and making yourself a cup of chamomile tea, the smell of it instantly relaxed you.

"Make a cup for me too!" Hyunjin said, lying on the sofa with his hands under his head.

"Make one yourself!" You said and took a small sip of your tea.

"I feel like dying here!" He whined while lying sideways on the sofa like he was posing for a photoshoot.

"No offense," he quickly added at the end of the sentence.

You took another sip and felt better already, or you suggested to your brain that it was working on you.

"None taken!" You plainly answered.

He got up from the sofa and stretched out his long arms, his red hair messy on the back, "what's for dinner?"

That reminded you to start looking at restaurant menus, went to your bedroom to get your phone, and saw two missed calls from Kim.

You were about to hit a call back when the doorbell rang.

"Is that the food?" Hyunjin asked from the living room.

You got out of the bedroom while holding your phone, "I haven't ordered yet," you answered.

You came to the door and opened it, got stunned at the person behind it.

He was the last person you wanted to see but there he was, standing in front of you, Minho.

"Can I come in?" He asked with a smile.

You let him in because it's basic etiquette, you wanted to be polite, nothing more than that.

Hyunjin was already gone when you got back inside but Minho saw the paper bag he gave you on the kitchen island.

"You were having tea?" He asked.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction that you cherished the things he gifted for you but it was too late to hide it. You decided to play coy, "you want one?"

"Yes, please!"

You went behind the kitchen island and made him a cup of tea, doing it to ignore looking him in the eyes because you knew what those eyes can do to you.

You kept doing it when you served the steaming hot cup of tea to him.

"Thank you," he muttered but didn't take a seat on the chair.

You stood there next to the dining table, suddenly feeling like you were the one visiting his house and not the other way around.

"You are eventually going to look at me, aren't you?" He asked.

So he noticed that you've been trying to avoid them, you took a deep breath to finally look him in the eyes. There was a part of you that was glad of seeing him again and you hated yourself for it.

"I came here because I had to see you," he began, taking out the hands that has been deep inside his jeans pockets.

"Had to," he emphasized.

And that part has taken a bigger part of you the longer you stared into his eyes.

"I just don't understand this," you said.

You put your hand on the table for support as you felt like you were about to crumble down all over again.

"I mean... I was right there for years, remember?"

Even the soothing smell of the tea didn't work on relaxing you anymore.

"'This was a mistake' that's what you said to me once, that we weren't right for each other."

He looked a bit perplexed, lost in your words. "Well, I don't remember that," he innocently said.

Unlike you, he wouldn't remember saying that but you remembered how and when he said it, how those three words stuck with you ever since.

He took a step closer and placed a hand on yours, "I just know that I hated when you're gone."

He held your gaze before continuing to talk, "I kept looking at your desk at work and it was driving me crazy that I wasn't hearing from you."

He puts his forehead on yours and sighed in relief as he has just found a haven, "I don't want to lose you."

You were on the verge of plunging into another heartbreak but at the same time, couldn't say no to the thrill, "Oh... Minho," you said so hopelessly. And you hated yourself for letting him get to you, holding you by your neck, and winning your heart all over again.

"Come here," he held your face in your hands and leaned in, putting his lips on you, tearing down your guard like it was nothing but a mere warning sign.

Here you were, letting him take you to your bed and kiss all of your doubts away.

The shape of his body fits you perfectly as he lay there next to you and held you close, if this was a mistake then why it feels so right?

You pulled away to catch a breath and looked at him again to confirm that you weren't imagining it.

"I'm taking a long break at the end of the year," he said.

His hand splayed on your back with his thumb teasing the hem of your t-shirt, "I was thinking we can go on a trip together," he came up with the plan out of the blue.

"Somewhere warm with good food. Somewhere where I can see you wearing that red swimsuit I gave you," he added and pecked your lips. He once gave you a pair of swimsuits on your birthday since you planned on taking a summer vacation but the trip was canceled because your father got sick.

"What do you think?" He asked.

The invite came too suddenly and the end of the year was a month away, you only have a week in your life but sure, a trip with him, anywhere it is would be nice.

"It sounds great," you replied.

He puts a strand of hair away from your face before placing a gentle kiss.

"Do you mean that? I mean, are you free to do that?" You asked because you still couldn't process this, him coming and he made out with you on your bed, then asking you to come on a trip with him.

"Well, I came here to see you. I'm here now," he said and pecked your lips again.

You got a little uneasy from his vague answer and jerked your head back, "that didn't exactly answer my question."

You propped your elbow against the mattress and put a space between you and him, "does this mean you're not engaged anymore? I mean, you come here to tell me that, right?"

Minho sighed with his eyes closed and placed a hand on your shoulder, "I wish you could just accept knowing how confused I am about all this."

You shrugged his hand off your shoulder, "so you are still engaged?"

He took a second, "yes, but—"

"Oh my God!" You groaned and couldn't be faster to get off the bed, you stumbled to stand on your feet.

Minho fumbled to get up as well and sat on the edge of the bed.

"You were right about us... this was a mistake," you meekly said.

"You didn't mean that," he refused to believe you said that.

You raked your hair and tried to gather your thoughts, "I'm about three years late in telling you this but Minho, you broke my heart so many times."

You held yourself back from snapping at him by taking a deep breath, "and you acted like somehow it was my fault, my misunderstanding, and I was too in love with you to ever be mad at you. So I just punished myself for years!"

"No, I didn't—"

You didn't want to give him a chance to interrupt you so you kept going, "then you came here and told me that you don't want to lose me whilst you're still engaged to someone," you spat the fact right at his face.

It had been like that for years but that was the first time that everything became clear to you.

"It's over, Minho," you said.

He grabbed your hands and opened his mouth to speak.

You shook your head and let go of his hands, "I'm done being in love with you."

You went out of the bedroom and took his coat from the sofa, then walked to the threshold knowing that he'll follow you there.

"What's going into you?" Minho asked and it was his usual card trick that is playing the victim again.

"A realization that I've got a life to start living and you're not going to be in it, that's what got into me," you answered, handed him his coat, and opened the door for him.

He took a long, hard look at you with eyes that always work to soften your edges but it seemed like the magic has worn off.

You showed his way out with your hand and stared at him with hatred in your eyes.

There was an intense staring contest happening for a while until he reluctantly took his coat and stepped out of the door, turning around to see you for one last time.

Before he could say anything, you got ahead of him and said, "Goodbye!"

You shut the door right in his face, walked back to the living room, and lay down on the sofa. You planted your face into a cushion then screamed at the top of your lungs. You kept doing it until you ran out of breath and your throat burned dry.

"Fucking asshole," you cursed when you got up from the sofa, then started pacing around the house trying to burn the rage inside you.

"Shit! Fucking asshole! What a fucking jerk! Fuck! Argh!!!" You took the cushion and started squeezing it until it turned misshapen.

"Maybe you should make a new cup of tea!" Hyunjin said from the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping his tea.

"That goddamn tea!" You grumbled through your gritted teeth and shoved the tea back into the paper bag, throwing the whole thing into the trash bin.

"You can have mine then!" He offered.

You couldn't stay still, you kept pacing around with your hands balled into fists and ready to throw a punch if you have to, "argh... I have to—"

You have so much rage inside you but didn't know how to let it out, "I want to break things and scream and punch something without worrying my neighbors."

"Or maybe sit down and have a glass of water," Hyunjin suggested but doing it so calmly because he enjoyed the sight.

"I swear if I don't get it out, I'm going to fucking explode," you angrily told him with clenched jaws.

You got your coat and headed out of the door, walking aimlessly while carrying your rage inside your chest.

You ended up in a batting cage, you just wanted to tire yourself out with physical stuff and hope the rage would die down eventually.

You don't know how to play baseball but you kept batting the ball so hard and loud that it made a ringing sound and when the pitching machine stopped.

You turned at Hyunjin, "again!" You said, signaling him to put the coin into the machine.

You kept playing until there was no energy left in you and your palms were blistering from gripping the bat so hard and shaking since you didn't have dinner yet.

"Here!" Hyunjin said, handing you cold cans of beer.

You took them and held them in your hands to soothe the blisters, sighing at how good they felt.

Hyunjin opened a can for himself and started drinking, "feel better now?"

The exhaustion did work to make you forget that you were mad but it was still there, you could feel it in the pit of your stomach.

You opened a can in your hands and took a long gulp, gasping when you swallowed it all down.

"You know, he's the first and the only person I have had sex with," you blurted out.

You stared at the night sky and there was no stars or moon, only the vast darkness.

"And that's when he said it..."

You turned at Hyunjin and his red hair looking like cotton candy under the bright neon lights.

"This was a mistake," you enunciated the words one by one with a feeling like someone squeezed your heart dry when you said it.

"Since then I kept asking myself. Was it the sex? Was I not attractive enough? Was it my body? Was it me?" you rubbed your temple and sniffled, either from the cold or you were about to cry.

"A girl like me just couldn't forget such words," you said and took a small sip of your beer, you wiped the drop that escaped the corner of your mouth.

"I told him about it earlier and he said he couldn't remember saying that to me," you said in disbelief with creases on your forehead.

Tears just rolled down your cheeks like a bursting dam and you couldn't fight them but let them flood.

"How could I love such a man for three goddamn years?" You croaked and rested your forehead on Hyunjin's shoulder, closing your eyes and crying.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” you cursed yourself with a lot of regrets woven in your words.

Hyunjin put his arm around you and pulled you closer, letting you bury your head in his chest, helping you hide your sadness from the world. He kept quiet and calmly drank his beer, listening to your crying while sitting together on a bench outside a convenience store.

Your tears seeped into his clothes but in return, you felt the warmth of his embrace.

He let out a long sigh and said, "Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur."

He spoke Latin like he was a native and it sounded so beautiful coming out of his mouth, not to mention his gorgeous lips that are as red as his hair.

"Even God finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time," he translated it.

It was surprising that it was coming from him, the last person you ever wanted to hear words of comfort from yet here he was, resting his head against yours and kept shielding you from the cold, the heartbreak, and the world.

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sweethyune · 9 months

Text

the boy is bad news | h.hj smau

ch 32 - something’s changed

genre: angst, smut, social media au (with written parts), college au, enemies to lovers

summary: An aspiring journalist, you are the news editor for The Uni Chronicles; the campus newspaper, popular for delivering breaking news at the drop of a hat and providing detailed articles about the various happenings around your university. You think you’ve covered every story there was to cover before you’re tasked with producing an in-depth editorial on a student whose name is on everyone’s lips—Hwang Hyunjin.

wc: 2.9k

masterlist

He didn’t think much before grabbing his keys to leave after he read the messages from Chan. Seungmin, the man you’ve been madly in love with for over a year, is in a relationship with someone else. Hyunjin should be happy about this—he can finally make his move now that his competition is out of the picture. He can finally go all in and prove to you that he’s the one you should be with instead. He should be ecstatic at this chance to win your affections—but he isn’t.

His stomach is in knots as he approaches your door. From the moment he heard the news, Hyunjin’s mind went into a frenzy worrying about you. How will you take this? Will you be sad? Angry? He’s scared about you getting hurt, fearing the look you’ll give him when he tells you the news, the tears that may come, and most of all, how much it’ll crush him to watch your heart break.

The mere thought of your pained expression sends a pang to his chest. How should he comfort you? What could he do to alleviate the wound? Hyunjin jumps ahead of himself, contemplating how to handle the aftermath before he’s even sorted out a plan to reveal the news to you. His mind is racing almost as fast as his heart. He paces back and forth on the sidewalk in front of your apartment, hands making a mess of his hair as he struggles to formulate the right words to tell you.

What am I even doing here? Hyunjin thinks, hesitating to knock on the door. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with cold air to cool his nerves. Slowly, he opens them again, nearly leaping in shock when he sees you appear before him, your head poking out from the side of the door.

“I saw you from the window, do you want to come in?” You ask, brows furrowed in curiosity.

Hyunjin’s mind blanks for a moment as he processes your words and waits for the surprise from your sudden presence to wear off.

“Y-yeah. Thanks.” He mumbles. The uneasiness he feels from what he’s about to say, the flutter that thrills his heart upon seeing you in your adorably oversized pajama shirt, it all leaves him in a daze.

You lead Hyunjin to your living room, expecting him to take a seat on the couch, but he remains standing, so you stay standing as well.

“So, what did you need to tell me?” Your voice quivers as you speak.

Hyunjin looks anxious, fidgeting with his rings and combing his fingers through his hair repeatedly. You also start to feel jittery as you try to predict what it was that brought him to your doorstep tonight. Could it possibly be a confession, or was that just wishful thinking? The anticipation was killing you, and his nervous demeanor wasn’t doing anything to help you calm down.

“So…” Hyunjin clears his throat. “I just found something out that I think you’d be interested in knowing.” He slaps a hand to his head. “Ugh, interested is the wrong word, I don’t know how to explain this—“

He sighs and tries to start again. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m telling you this because I think you deserve to know sooner than later.”

“Damn it Hyunjin, can you just spit it out already? I have no idea what you’re talking about but you’re making me nervous.” You groan.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m bad at explaining.” He pauses to look at you, his anxiety shooting through the roof.

“Seungmin is dating someone.”

Silence fills the room as you digest his words. Seungmin is dating someone. Your unrequited love story has finally come to an end. Deep down, you knew this day would come eventually. All the years you spent silently crushing on him, admiring him from afar and never daring to express your feelings—you knew it was a hopeless infatuation, a one-sided love affair. Is that why, in this moment of clarity, you don’t feel sad? You had prepared yourself for this outcome, and never really considered the possibility of your feelings ever being returned. Maybe that’s what made the blow less painful, easier to accept.

“Who is he dating?” You finally break the silence.

Hyunjin meets your gaze with apprehension, before hesitantly answering. “Yoona.”

Damn. You had a feeling there was something going on between them and your suspicions were right. It all made a lot of sense. They were two people on the same level—intelligent, ambitious, successful. Of course they make a perfect match, it would be naive to think that either of them would settle for anything less. But this realization couldn’t stop you from feeling a bit foolish. How humiliating is it to have ever believed you stood a chance against her? It’s obvious that she surpasses you in every imaginable category. You lost a battle you clearly weren’t qualified for, and to be told all of this by Hyunjin, who knows how much you’ve struggled to prove yourself to Seungmin and Yoona, was an even bigger embarrassment.

You’re frustrated with yourself for once again letting your ignorant fantasies get the best of you. You feel stupid. Realizing how pitiful you must look in front of Hyunjin, your eyes begin to sting with tears. He probably thinks you’re such a fool. He always teased you about your crush on Seungmin, and he must feel smug seeing how it played out in the end. Hyunjin sees the tears about to fall from your eyes and reaches a hand towards you, but you back away.

“Did you tell me this to rub it in my face?” You mutter, wiping your eyes with your T-shirt sleeve.

“What? No! Why would I do that?” Hyunjin retorts.

“I don’t know. You must think I look pathetic right now.” You sniffle.

“God, you’re so frustrating sometimes.” Hyunjin sighs. “I was worried about you this whole time…but now you’re somehow more upset at me than you are about the news.”

He plops down with a huff and leans his head back on the couch.

“I’m not upset at you…” You cautiously take a seat beside him. “I just feel a little embarrassed about the whole thing.”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” Hyunjin questions. “Seungmin is the one who made a mistake, shouldn’t you be disappointed?”

“I don’t know, not really.”

Hyunjin looks at you with wide eyes. “So you’re okay with this?”

“I think so. I kind of expected this to happen for a while now, so I’m not as hurt by it.” You lean back on the couch next to him. “In a way, it’s a bit of a relief to finally let go of that part of my life. But I just feel stupid for holding on to that hopeless crush for so long.”

“I don’t think it was stupid.”

“I do.” You chuckle. “But I guess everyone’s a little stupid when they’ve caught feelings for someone else.”

“You can say that again.” He mutters. “But you can’t help who you fall for, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed about what happened. Just because Seungmin didn’t feel the same doesn’t mean someone else won’t.”

You softly smile at his words. “I know, you’re right. I have a bad habit of looking down on myself. It just kind of sucks when the girl he ended up with is better than me on so many levels.”

“Y/N, stop comparing yourself to other people.” Hyunjin huffs. “Because there’s no one in the world who’s like you.”

Hearing him say that makes your heart jump and effectively shuts you up. “I’m sorry, I’m doing it again.” You mumble. “I’ll try to stop thinking like that.”

“Good, because I don’t like when you belittle yourself.” He frowns. “It makes me mad.”

You and Hyunjin sit side by side, gazing up at the ceiling. Your hands are tucked in your lap but your shoulders are touching. This simple physical contact somehow calms you down and you turn your head to look up at him. “Were you really worried about me?”

Still looking up at the ceiling, he answers. “I was.”

You lean your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. “Thank you, Hyunjin.”

“For telling you? Chan warned me against it, but I figured you’d want to know as soon as possible.”

“No, for worrying about me.”

Chuckling, he rests his head on yours. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

“Did you think I was going to take it badly?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think much to be honest. I just felt like I needed to tell you right away, and I was scared it would hurt you.”

You shift your head to sneak a glance at him and notice a light blush across his cheeks which brings a fuzzy feeling to your stomach.

“You’re sweet, Jinnie. I’m glad you came tonight.” You smile and snuggle into his side.

Hyunjin’s stomach erupts with butterflies. He stiffens momentarily at your touch before relinquishing his guard and melting into your embrace. Never did he think he’d find himself rushing to comfort a girl while she’s heartbroken over another guy, yet here he was, racing to be by your side. Everyone’s a little stupid when they’ve caught feelings, huh? Hyunjin knows he has affection for you, but he hadn’t realized how bad it really was until it was too late.

This is much worse than he ever imagined. Because presently, all he can think about is the touch of your head resting on his shoulder, the dizzying smell of your shampoo, the sound of your breathy laugh, and how desperate he is to hear it again. Hyunjin has already surrendered all of his pride, the ego he’s built for years now, never before losing to another man—to be beside the one girl who chose somebody else over him. But no matter how much it’s a jab to his pride, it hurts him more to see you sad. That’s why he’s here, and that’s why he’ll never leave, not until you ask him to.

Tonight, your smile was enough. Hyunjin is content knowing that you’ve taken the news well and that you’re okay. But he’d be lying if he said his impulsive decision to come over wasn’t slightly self-indulgent. After all, he wants you to be his, and hearing that you’re able to move on from your old crush is making him dangerously excited.

But his excitement will have to wait. Now is not the time to make any reckless moves. Hyunjin reminds himself to be patient, just like Chan told him. He already made a rash decision to come here and shouldn’t test his luck any further.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Hyunjin caresses your cheek before sitting up straight, causing you to shift your weight off his shoulder. “I’m sorry for barging in so suddenly tonight, I should probably leave.”

“But I don’t want you to go.” You speak without thinking. “I mean, I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Hyunjin swallows his saliva, nervously avoiding your gaze. Yet, against his better judgement, he concedes. “Okay, I’ll stay with you.”

You immediately grin at his words, then blush in embarrassment at your giddy reaction.

“I’ll um, sleep on the couch then.”

“Are you sure? My bed is more comfortable though.” Hearing yourself turns you even redder. You can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth right now, yet you don’t take them back.

Hyunjin’s eyes widen at your suggestion. “I, uh, I don’t think I should.” He clears his throat. “I don’t want to intrude on your private space.”

Truthfully, Hyunjin would love nothing more than to spend the night in your bed—every night, for that matter. But he knows he’d be setting himself up for failure if he agrees to sleep beside you. There’s no chance in the world that he’d be able to hold back, no amount of self-control that could keep him from giving in to his true desires. You are much too tempting, even without trying, and Hyunjin fears he might end up doing something he’ll regret.

“I’ll sleep on the couch with you then.”

The words fall from your mouth before you could stop them. You’re as equally shocked as Hyunjin to hear yourself. You don’t know what’s come over you, but you just want to be close to him, as close as possible. Being around Hyunjin makes you feel safe. His presence brings you a special comfort that only he is capable of giving, and maybe you’re seeking solace from the hurt you’re feeling tonight. Or maybe you simply want to be close to him.

Regardless of the reason behind your insistence on spending the night together, your heart is dead-set on it. And after trying his best to maneuver out of this situation, Hyunjin’s defenses are down. He doesn’t have the will to say no to you, not when you’re looking at him with those irresistible pleading eyes, and especially not when his heart is screaming that he wants it too.

So you find yourselves laying together on the sofa. It’s silly really, choosing to sleep on this cramped piece of furniture over your much more spacious bed somehow makes you feel less uncomfortable, less…questionable.

Because beds are the place for intimate moments and sinful acts. Couches are more neutral, not as suggestive, friendly even. Nothing provocative could take place on a dingy couch. Then why is it so difficult for you to fall asleep? Why does it feel like your heart is beating out of your chest?

“You can lay on me if you want.” Hyunjin mentally curses at himself because he knows this is going to make things even more challenging for him, but you look so miserable trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, he couldn’t stay silent.

Flustered realizing that Hyunjin noticed your restlessness, you silently take him up on his offer. When your head meets his chest, his arm swings around your shoulder and you both release a relieved sigh. You’re instantly relaxed, as if his arms were made to lull you to sleep. The touch of his silken skin against yours, the rhythmic raising and dropping his chest, his warm breath brushing past your cheek, it all felt too perfect.

You lift you head, greedy to catch a glimpse of him while he’s asleep. His eyelashes flutter with dreams and his lips were parted, releasing shallow pants. He’s too perfect. You think to yourself as you study his features. His plush lips always mesmerized you with how lush and rosy they always appear, not to mention how lavish they feel.

You’re entranced by him, his presence pulling you closer. Before you know it, you’re mere inches from his face, you can feel his breath on your lips, drawing you in.

As if he felt your gaze, Hyunjin slowly opens his eyes. You’re startled to be caught staring at him, your faces almost touching, his eyes fixed on yours. But he doesn’t question it, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he closes the distance, grazing his lips against yours before locking them in a kiss.

You’re both frozen, unmoving for a moment when your lips connect, as if teetering on the edge of a cliff, unsure if you’ll stay grounded or fall. The warmth from his lips sends a jolt of electricity through you, throwing you completely off-balance, and you take the plunge.

Hyunjin kisses you with restraint. His soft pecks lingering a bit too long, but never daring to cross the border of lust and sexual desire. He stays within the realm of unadulterated intimacy, though he struggles to withhold his passion. He doesn’t know how else to tell you—he was never any good with words—so instead he shows you, hoping you will understand by the way his lips move against yours, leisurely, savoring every moment, yet unsatisfied and longing for more.

He’s never kissed you like this. Or maybe, you’ve never kissed him like this. Hyunjin’s lips are firm in their movement, yet graze yours ever so delicately. You hope this is a lucid dream that you could take control of. You’d stop time and kiss him forever.

The illusion is broken when your humanity takes over, the need to fill your lungs causing you to release and gasp for air. Was it the lack of oxygen or the kiss itself that was making you lightheaded?

Hyunjin strokes your hair, lightly patting your head back down to his chest. You lay down, the sound of your racing pulse blasting in your ears.

“Good night, Y/N.” He whispers, choosing not to acknowledge what just happened.

“Good night, Hyunjin.” You reply, following along in his feigned ignorance.

You close your eyes and try to numb the adrenaline in your system. Resuming your position beside him, you can’t help but feel like something’s changed. The comfort that Hyunjin’s presence normally brings you is now replaced with intoxicating tension that you can’t ignore. You try your best to calm your heart, but to no avail—it was going to be a restless night.

a/n: some rare fluff for y’all~ you’re welcome 😇 I hope you guys enjoy this one! their dynamics are changing~~~ alas, we’re approaching the last arch of this series 😪 but i still have plenty in store for you guys! lemme know whatcha think, thanks for all the feedback 🫶

Taglist: @mal-lunar-28 @ladylexis @vampcharxter @sisterofsomeone @whlfchnari @imasimplol @writersun @i2lain @astraystayyh @jiimout @hwajin @hyynee @rachabreathing @zoe8stay @abbiestearsricochet @ven-fic-recs @stay-down-kid @flowerbin131 @hyunverse @whatthefsposts @carousellights @dorisnumber1fan @hyunsungbased @manj1ro @straydhampir @jungkookies1002 @rindomo @iadorethemskz @silent-jill @feelikecinderella @vixensss @leeyanyanyaaan @broken-glowsticks @bmnyy @fawnpeaks @hyuneyeon @septicrebel @channiesstars @mimi-sierra04 @dreamstarsandskz @cheshireshiya @staurdvst @swissgoswish @ggundeuri @farfromsugafanfic @whats-my-question @bintificreads @iwaplant @yla-aira @midsoulz

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sweethyune · 9 months

Text

the boy is bad news | h.hj smau

ch 31 - lol no

a/n: ok I’m a lil buzzed rn. but inspo calls at any time. and I must answer. major plot events happenin!!! the next ch will be written. 🤭 I hope y’all are looking forward to another angsty confrontation 🤭🤭

masterlist

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sweethyune · 10 months

Text

this 🥹

Somebody else

Hyunjin x reader. Exes to lovers. Miscommunication. Hints of past toxic relationships. Flawed characters and happy ending :)

Inspired from Somebody Else by The 1975, highly recommend listening to it while reading!

You and Hyunjin have broken up, guilt and blame simmering between you both. He doesn't care anymore, or so he thought. Then why does it hurt him to see you with someone else?

skz song series masterlist.

Strobing lights, vibrant streaks of blue and red ricocheting off your skin. Bodies pressed to yours, trying to fray themselves a passage to dance in. Someone bumps onto your shoulder but you don't care enough to even glance at them. Your eyes are fixated on Hyunjin.

You broke up two weeks ago, you don't even remember why. Petty arguments and even pettier reactions from both of you, your egos holding you back from saying what you truly feel.

You hated arguments, especially with him. Because they reminded you of how much you cared for him, immensely so, how you regarded him as a part of your soul, one you couldn't part with. The mere thought of his departure left you feeling like a seashell washed ashore- hollow and condemned to echo the sounds of the ocean it was forcibly separated from.

So, in the heat of the moment, you let anger pull you in her fiery hold- she's all encompassing, wrapping around you like a steel shield, making you less vulnerable in Hyunjin’s hands. But she also clouds your senses, and you find yourself uttering stupid nonsense, such as ‘Maybe we should break up’.

You’ve never thought about it, let alone wanted to end things with him. You wanted to take those words back as soon as you said them, to rewind the seconds and erase them from both of your memories. But then Hyunjin agreed, so easily, as if he was eagerly awaiting the bait you just threw at him. 'You know what? Maybe we should' and he left, slamming the door of your apartment.

You stayed up all night, waiting for him to come back. He knew you didn't mean it, right? Surely, he understood that it was your feeble attempt to guard your wounded heart. It's been stomped on carelessly, thrown around enough that he must know you were just afraid.

But you haven’t seen him since.

And now you're both here, at the party that Changbin organized. He's your mutual friend and he insisted that you'd come as well. "Binnie, I don't want to."

"You both are just idiots who'll get back together. You’re coming," he silenced you, and you sulked in your place. But his words ignited something in you- a childish hope, that maybe he was right and Hyunjin still cared about you.

But all of it was shattered as you set foot inside Changbin’s house. It was easy to find Hyunjin, sitting in the middle of a couch, legs slightly spread apart. He was wearing a white shirt, its top buttons undone. You watched as he easily captured the attention of everyone around him, as they hung into his every word, admiring him. That's the thing with Hyunjin, it's easy to admire him, to crave being near him, because he's enchanting, and his laugh makes you want to make him happy ten times fold.

You scoff bitterly, as someone places their hand on his arm and he doesn't move them away. He leans onto their touch and a surge of bile rises in your throat. Perhaps this is what you fought about- anger that cowardly hid behind it your insecurity at dating someone so sought after. It was foolish after all, to believe that the sun would get attached to a mere speck of light.

"You're here alone?" a voice interrupts your train of thought, and you turn around to find Chan. You smile at the familiar face, a welcome respite from the dull ache settling in your heart, making itself a home within your veins.

"Our friends are all over the place," you explain, and he nods in understanding. "Changbin made me come but I don't know where he is," he whines, leaning closer to your ear so you could hear him over the pulsating music.

"So, we're all here because of Bin?" you giggle and Chan's laugh fills the air, his dimples proudly on display. There was this comforting aura surrounding him, which made it much easier to breathe in his presence. And you needed to feel safe somewhere at this party, where all you saw were glimpses of Hyunjin and the hurt he inflicted on you.

"Do you want to dance?" you ask, and Chan's grin widens in response, so you grab his forearm leading him to the makeshift dance floor.

Hyunjin silently watches as you and Chan dance with one another. He can’t see you properly, hidden by the swarms of bodies pressed together. But he gets glimpses of you each time someone moves a bit away. You appear to him like a mirage- something he once had and yet so unattainable right now.

I don’t want your body, but I hate to think about you with somebody else

Hyunjin is fine with the fact that you left him, that’s what he tells himself as he downs his drink. He’s used to people leaving after some time when he’s no longer enough. He did think that maybe things with you would be different, that for once, someone would stay. That you would shatter this idea ingrained in his mind- that he’s easily disposable, as someone told him a long time ago.

But you wished to leave him too, and for the first time in his life, Hyunjin wanted to beg someone to stay. He thought of pulling you in for a dizzying kiss, so you’d second-guess your decision, so he’d show you that he’s still good at something. But he swallowed this pathetic want and he left.

He walked slowly, thinking that maybe you’d follow him. You’d shout his name and then he’d turn back and run towards you. He’d throw his pride over his shoulder and he’d apologize.

But you didn’t.

So, he’s okay with it, or at least that’s what he thought. He doesn’t want you anymore. So why does it hurt to watch you with Chan?

Our love has gone cold you’re intertwining your soul with somebody else

An ugly thought rears itself into his brain. You’ve liked Chan long before you broke up with Hyunjin. Maybe the time you've spent with Chan, working on your musical project made your heart gravitate towards him, and you were simply awaiting the right moment to end things with Hyunjin. That’s why you’re smiling so effortlessly at Chan. That’s why he’s spinning you around, and holding your arm to move you away from a drunk couple.

Hyunjin lost you before he realized he lost you. Maybe when he laid next to you in bed you were thinking of Chan. Maybe it was his touch you longed for whenever Hyunjin hugged you. You wouldn’t be the first to do this to him.

I’m looking through you while you’re looking through your phone and then leaving with somebody else

You’re laughing hard, and your hand is on Chan’s shoulder as he steadies you. But then you look up and your eyes lock with Hyunjin’s. He can only watch as the happiness slowly drains from your face, as you whisper something into Chan’s ear who then leads you outside.

Hyunjin's heart sinks in his chest- he couldn't recognize you anymore, the affection once present in your eyes diluted to a mere semblance of indifference. And you still looked so beautiful to him, despite it all. He felt as if you were stabbing him with a rusty knife, and yet all he focused on was how soft your hands looked holding the bloody blade.

Hyunjin gets up to pour himself another drink, shrugging away the hand of the person who was sitting next to him. He doesn’t want you anymore, he doesn't care that you're probably kissing Chan right now. But he secretly hopes that if he drinks enough, the faces all around him will blur until all he sees again is you.

No don’t want your body but I’m picturing your body with somebody else

"Are you okay?" Chan asks, his voice soft and concerned as you draw in a deep, shuddering breath. It feels as if there was no room in your heart anymore for oxygen, the ache for Hyunjin taking it all up.

"Is it bad that I miss him so much?" you ask, your voice sounding frail to your ears.

"He misses you too. You know that, right?"

"He left, so easily. I don't think he does after all," you smile sadly. It hurt to utter those words out loud, because it made them feel much more real, intensifying the raw pain within you.

"I’ve never seen him look so sad before," Chan points out and you know he's just trying to help, but it just further tears you apart. You don't want false hope, you don't want to build yourself a world where Hyunjin still wants you, only for it to be shattered afterward.

"Can we talk about something else?" you plead and he nods, before sharing with you the ropes of his latest project. He's working on a ballad for once, and you listen attentively, allowing yourself to be absorbed in the intricacies he describes. It provides you a temporary solace, which then makes a frightening thought dawn on you.

Is this how it will be from now on? Seeking distractions from the people surrounding you, in the hopes it will quest the thirst of the ache threatening to drown you?

Oh, come on baby, this ain't the last time that I’ll see your face

"Yn!" Hyunjin calls out, breathless, watching you abruptly stop in your tracks. It's foolish and pathetic, but he couldn't resist following you when you bid goodbye to Chan. He was sick of the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his head. He wanted to hear them from you. It'd make accepting them easier.

"Leave me alone," you shout back, walking even faster and away from him.

"Fine, leave again. That's all you fucking do anyways," he yells angrily, frustration seeping into his words. It makes you pause once again, and you suck in a deep breath before marching back to him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Chan? Out of all people?" he scoffs, ignoring your question. That's the only thing he kept thinking of. You and Chan, laughing, talking, dancing, the way you used to with him.

And come on baby, you said you found someone to take my place

"Fuck you Hyunjin," you spit out, turning around but he stops you, a hand wrapped around your forearm. Despite the anger cursing through him, his hold on you is still gentle. You can free yourself from him, easily.

"So, it's true, then? You replaced me with him?" Fresh pain swims in his eyes, and he makes no attempt to conceal it anymore. He was tired of pretending he was okay with you leaving.

"What is it to you, huh? You left me," you shout back, jabbing your finger forcefully into his chest.

"I left? You're the one who said that it'd be better if we broke up!"

"It's not like you disagreed, huh? You probably felt so relieved that I handed you this outing, didn't you Hyunjin?"

"Don't twist this on me," he says firmly, gripping your finger to halt your repetitive jabs. "Am I that easy to forget? Did I matter this little to you?" He questions, voice cracking with his every word.

"Let me go," you plead, tears brimming in your waterline.

"Answer me. That's the least you could do for me. I need to hear it from you." Hyunjin has never been this unguarded with you, searching your eyes with an intensity that shakes you to the core. He's asking and yet it feels as if he's just expecting you to say yes, to reiterate the idea drilled into his mind, to prove everybody right once again.

"I didn't forget about you, is this what you want to hear?" you whisper, voice laced with excruciating exhaustion. "You're all I thought about for the last two weeks. I heard your voice in my mind more than my own. I even kept your opened drink in my fridge just in case you might come back for it."

"You're killing me, yn," he shuts his eyes closed forcefully, as if your words physically pained him. "Didn't you tell me that we should break up?"

"You don't understand," you shake your head, a bitter chuckle leaving you. "Everyone loves you Hyunjin. Everyone would fight to be with you. You must know it, and it's dangerous when someone knows they can easily replace you. I have no one to protect me so I tried to protect myself. I didn't think I’ll survive if you left me too."

"Everyone loves me?" he repeats, as a newfound emotion shines in his eyes. "Are you in this everyone too? Do you love me, yn?" his voice wavers, as the weight of his question hangs in the air.

You feel as if the world around you stills, holding its breath for your response. You know that any possible future with Hyunjin rests upon the words you'll choose to speak. You already know the answer, even though you decided to not tell him. Out of all the emotions you've ever experienced, love still scares you the most. And you're afraid of what your confession will entail, of tipping the balance towards a crueler reality- one where Hyunjin doesn't return your feelings.

"Please let me go," you beg, as a singular tear trails out of your eyes.

"Look at me," he urges, desperation lacing his words. But you shake your head, unable to meet his gaze, afraid that he will peel all your defenses with it. "Baby, look at me," he calls softly, as he gently wipes away your tears. The nickname sounds so familiar coming from his lips, and it further crumbles your shaky resolve.

"Don't call me that if you're leaving, please," you beg and he smiles softly at you, hooking a finger under your shin.

"Can't you see I'm too in love with you to go again?" he whispers, the tenderness in his voice washing over you, casting a flicker of hope into your heart.

"I'm scared too," he speaks again, placing your hand on top of his widely beating heart. "I'm scared and so tired, yn. Of feeling disposable to everyone around me. When you... When you told me it'd be best if we broke up, it felt worse than anyone leaving me before. Because it was you. And I really wanted you to stay."

"I didn't mean it, I never thought of it even, I promise you. I'm so sorry." The words tumble from your lips in a rush, an earnest attempt to keep the hope alive, to prevent it from withering down. "Please stay. I love you, I truly do," you plead, no longer caring how vulnerable you sound in that instant. You curl your hand around his, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, squeezing them gently. And you feel as if the universe exhales in relief, resuming its usual course.

"I never wanted to leave either. And when I saw you with Chan I thought I lost you for good," his voice is softer now, as if embarrassed of his own admission. "It hurt, more than I imagined it would."

You press your forehead against his, closing your eyes to relish in the feeling of being so close to him once again.

"Really?" you tease gently, a glimmer of a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "You looked perfectly fine to me."

"What do you even know,” he mutters quietly, before pressing his soft lips onto yours.

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sweethyune · 10 months

Text

oh. my. GOD

im not screaming... IM NOT SCREAMING OMG

star lost with you | hyunjin au | part 15

pairing: idol! hyunjin x artist! reader

synopsis: working in a quaint little art store, you’ve had the honor of meeting all kinds of people, but you’ve never met somebody like him.

there were many reasons hyunjin returned to his hometown; a getaway from the ephemeral and fast-paced life of the city, so he could fall in love with life again. he thought he was prepared for everything, to study art in the way that he’s always wanted to, but what he didn’t anticipate was meeting you. hwang hyunjin realises that sometimes, the best things in life happen unplanned.

genre:friends to lovers, so much angst, smut, fluff, set in the idolverse, mutual pining, unrequited love, forbidden romance, slowburn (!!!) soulmate au (kind of), star-crossed lovers

warnings:cursing, mature content, fancy drinking, mutual pining, sexual tension, so much angst, kissing, making out, dirty talk, fingering, grinding, dry humping, dom!hyunjin, jealousy, more angst

word count:35K (ik the wc makes it feel v long but it’s really not that much haha)

a/n: im so excited to be coming back with this huge of a chapter for you guys. so much goes down and im insanely excited to share this next phase of my story with you. its v long so pls get comfortable with a blanket and snacks. I would recommend rereading the last chapter, if you can! thank you for still being here.

i recommend that you can listen to my star lost playlist here!

important: all works are fiction, and do not in any way represent the real personalities or real people, they exist only as faceclaims, and are fictional characters.

masterlist

He had fucked up. Even in the dimly lit drive-in theatre, the guilt on his face was evident. Hyunjin had never looked this devastated.

“I need to talk to you”

That’s what he had said. The gnawing feeling in your gut got worse. Those words together, in that order, was never a good sign. You knew as much, and you knew whatever he had to tell you was going to be something bad.

“Why did you leave in the middle of the film?” You asked, gaze darting between him and your friends.

Yuqi was staring wide-eyed, watching this unfold, soda cup clutched in her hands, and Felix…he looked beyond irritated.

The movie could still be heard all the way over here. You weren’t too far from the projection screen, and the speakers were right next to you. It was a horrible place to be having this conversation, but you couldn’t wait.

What was he holding back?

You’d always felt the safest around Hyunjin, but every breath between you right now was uncertain. He was fidgeting, sliding the silver ring off and on his finger.

“I was on my way back to you when—” Hyunjin paused, and the veins in his neck were prominent as he strained to be heard over the movie, “—when Felix found me. He wanted to talk”

Keep reading

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sweethyune · 10 months

Text

holy... shit

this is perfect....... sobbing 🥹

Ice

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader (fem)

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smut; mafia!AU, strangers-to-lovers, 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood; explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (seriously guys - don’t do what they do here, in terms of protection or consent), loss of virginity (graphic)

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! I’ve been gone for a really long time, I know - but I’m finally making my way back to this blog and to writing again. I have a few fics in the pipeline, but here’s my first new release! It’s a very different style/genre/length from what I’ve posted here before; it’s a bit darker in tone and less fluffy (all’s well that ends well though lol) - so feedback and thoughts are extra extra appreciated!

Summary: Sheer good looks aside though…you’d seen his face on the news. What was his name? You remembered that it was something elegant, soft on the lips - a name that didn’t seem to fit the cruel, hardened mafioso it belonged to.

It was only when those cold icy eyes locked with yours, gaze chilling even from all the way across the bar, that it finally came to mind.

Hwang Hyunjin.

You looked pathetic, you supposed.

Keep reading

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sweethyune · 10 months

Note

sup bitch, feedback on your book. Y.O.U. S.L.U.T.

good job tho im proud mama

BAHHAAHAHAHAHA

thank you 💔

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sweethyune · 11 months

Note

I completely agree the hyunjin smut needs to be more active. Okay so anything like dom hyunjin. Maybe teasing or jealousy. The reader is shy but he makes her show what she wants lol

Uhm - YES, thank you for this request, the world needs more Jinnie smut honestly.

Hope this is what you wanted, a part two can be done if you want :)

SMUT WARNING

He's being ridiculous and unnecessary.

It was just a joke, honestly.

He entered the room where you and all the members, including himself, were having a movie night at his house and when he came back from the bathroom, he found Changbin's head on your lap and you were combing your fingers through his hair - enough to make him raging with red hot jealousy. You were his, has he not made that clear enough? Was rejecting Stays, old friends from high school, and almost every girl, everywhere, still not enough for you?

That's it, he'll show you. He'll make sure you suffer.

Walking into the living room with his fingers dragging through his hair, jaw pulled tight, you immediately notice Hyunjin's side eye, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. You figure it's because of Changbin, although you're not exactly sure what the hell the problem is, you're close with all the members so what difference does it make? Changbin had mentioned that he read somewhere that being massaged on one's scalp helps relieve stress, and he wanted to know if a girl's hands would work better because his own weren't offering anything but a headache, hence he asked you once Hyunjin paused the movie to go to the bathroom. You didn't think anything weird of it, it was a normal request, but Changbin being himself he managed to make the weirdest sound the moment your fingers touched his head and you couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, it genuinely was funny.

Unfortunately for you, Hyunjin saw it.

For the rest of the movie, Hyunjin was quiet, not even a cough. You were starting to get worried, so once he stood up and left for the kitchen, you followed.

“Hey babe,” you say once you enter the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe as Hyunjin gets the tub of ice cream from the freezer and walks to the counter, throwing the tub on the surface with a loud bang. Okay, he’s mad.

“You okay?” you ask, voice soft. He sighs and grips the edge of the counter until every muscle in his arms activates, veins emerging under his milky skin. He clenches his jaw and keeps his gaze forward, ignoring you but aware of your presence and question. How could you ask such a stupid thing?

With hesitant steps, you walk until you’re standing behind him, wrapping your arms around his tiny waist, feeling his body tense against you. Maybe it's weird that it turns you on when he’s angry, but there’s just something about the way his breathing deepens and every muscle in his body flexes.

You rest your head on his back, gliding your hands from where they were resting on his ribs further down, over the bumps of his abs, halting at the waistband of his sweats.

“Jinnie?” you call, “Talk to me, baby.”

Hyunjin scoffs and shakes his head, “About what?”

You lift your head and duck under his arm, placing yourself between his body and the counter and placing your hands on his forearms, dragging them up his beautifully sculpted arms and watching the veins pulse under your fingers.

“You’re angry,” you tell him, big doe eyes looking up into his hooded, dark stare that sends a cool shiver down your spine.

He rolls his eyes and looks away, “What made you think that?” he asks sarcastically.

It's your turn to scoff, “You’re avoiding me, you gave that side eye, I can practically feel your anger radiating off of your body.”

And just like that, something changes his demeanor immediately.

‘You can feel it?” he cocks his head to the side, a teasing grin dancing on his lips, hands moving closer to each other on the counter, trapping you.

You slowly drag your hands down his chest and abs, lifting his shirt to put your hands on his warm skin, keeping your eyes on his.

“Mhm,” you mumble.

“You like it when I get jealous?” he asks, voice dropping into a whisper as he leans in closer, only a few inches of space separating your faces.

You’re too shy to say it, too embarrassed to even think about the wetness gathering between your legs and the knot forming in your lower belly.

He knows you’re shy, but this is exactly where he wants you, so he gently nudges his knee against your thighs and once you open slightly, he skillfully slides his thigh between your legs, pressing against you and drawing a shudder out of you.

“You’re so fucking naughty,” he breathes out, nudging his thigh against you harder and you drop your head back, the friction absolutely delightful.

He wants to punish you, he really does, but when your throat is so blissfully exposed, it almost looks too, decent, it needs marks.

He leans forward, pressing his soft lips against your throat, sucking painfully hard and biting your sensitive skin as if his teeth want to draw blood, whimpers dripping from your lips and fueling his thigh’s movements.

You drag your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly.

Instantly, his thigh and lips stop and you mewl at the loss, but his lips ghost over your ear, grazing his teeth over the shell of your ear, tugging teasingly. You whine in protest as he uses your weakness against you, almost crumbling when he draws away from you.

“Aw poor baby,” he coos, no sympathy in his voice at all, “Did you want more?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Y-yeah,” you breathe out, his dominant tone almost drawing another moan out of you.

“What do you want, angel?” he asks, teasing you.

You huff a sigh, cheeks burning up in embarrassment.

“Hmm, guess you don’t want it enough then,” he says nonchalantly and begins to walk away, panic arising in your chest at his absence.

Grabbing onto the waistband of his pants, you tug him closer again, “This,” you whisper, keeping your eyes on the floor.

“Hmm? What was that?” he teases again, the smirk evident in his voice.

“I want it,” you whisper, eyes still avoiding his.

“Show me,” he says, trapping you against the counter again by placing his hands on either side of you, leaning onto the surface.

You gulp, keeping your eyes low as you dip your small and shaking hand into his pants, fumbling until your fingers brush over his rock-hard dick. You hear his breath shudder softly and it gives you enough confidence to wrap your hand around him, tugging gently.

“Please?” you ask, looking up at him as pleadingly as you can, stroking him slowly.

“Aw angel,” he says casually, “I would’ve.”

He removes your hand from his pants, grabbing the tub of ice cream behind you, “But you pissed me off,” he says, his words stinging like boiling water, “You can wait.”

And just like that he leaves the kitchen, with a raging boner and messy hair.

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sweethyune · 1 year

Text

this is so beautiful so i'll give yall a recommendation — the author can write so goddamn good. while reading you'll find yourself laugh, you'll feel touched and for me personally i cried at one of the parts.

take time to read this, get yourself a snack or coffee or even a tea, and have a good time. 🤍

what sunsets are made of —chapter one (18+)

pairing: painter!hyunjin x author!afab reader | wordcount: 11.4k | genre: romance, angst, eventual smut | warnings: illness and mourning of a parent, themes of cheating (not hj x reader), angst. chapter contains depiction of an injured/dead animal (wild bird) and potentially triggering themes. reader discretion is advised. ↬ masterlist ↬ series masterlist

Sometimes, two people are destined to meet and to become intertwined. It's as simple as that. It's as violent as that.

"Love is the only thing that buds, grows and ripens with all the simplicity, purity and grace of an orange on an orange tree or a rose on a rosebush."

— Dulce Maria Loynaz from Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems

Hyunjin picked up the colorful candle from the table—shaped like an 8, it had little frogs drawn on it in green and yellow wax. He played with it, listening to the muffled conversations coming from his mom’s bedroom. What were they talking about? Would someone come to eat cake with him?

It was chocolate and vanilla cake with blue and orange icing. It had a tiger on it. It was a cool cake but he hadn’t been allowed to invite classmates to his birthday dinner. It would be a family event and he was old enough to understand why. Still, nobody would believe him when he would say his cake had a buttercream tiger on it, and even small trees made of candy. He hadn’t seen any of his aunts or uncles snap a picture either. Maybe he could try drawing it from memory to show his friends.

He was alone in the kitchen, surrounded by half-empty plates. The adults had given him the very center of the cake so that the entire tiger was his to eat. It had a hole in his neck from where the candle had been placed. Hyunjin dug in, eating from the legs. It tasted like real chocolate and real vanilla, or at least he thought it did. He wasn’t sure he could tell the difference.

His aunt joined him in the kitchen. She sat on the chair right next to him, staying quiet for a few moments, just watching him eat his cake. Her cheeks were wet and her eyes were full of tears. Hyunjin took a deep breath.

“Is mommy dead?” he asked his aunt, eyes fixated on the hole in the tiger’s neck. “Is that why you came to see me instead of staying with the others?”

She let out a painful sob, running her fingers through his short dark hair. “She’s almost gone, Jinnie. She wants to see you.” Her voice was strangled, like she was trying to swallow a lot of water at once. “Do you think you can do that?”

He wasn’t sure, but he said, “Yes, I want to see Mom.”

He followed his aunt to his parents’ bedroom. To him, it seemed like there were so many people in here, too many. Mommy will get tired, he thought. She lay on the hospital bed that had replaced the elegant bed he had always known in this room. She looked like she was already dead. The sickness had eaten her from within and she had no hair on her head. She got cold often though, so she wore a green fuzzy hat to stay warm. Hyunjin could see the skeleton inside his mother’s body. He had nightmares about this sometimes, but that day, he stayed brave and smiled when his mother looked at him.

His father was holding her hand and his grandmother was on the other side of the bed, a protective hand over her daughter’s skinny leg. His mother smiled, her eyes both shining and lifeless. She looked like something that ought to be in a scary movie, but she was his mother and he loved her.

“My boy,” he said. Her voice was barely more than a whisper, raspy, a series of ugly gasps. She was crying a little.

Hyunjin willingly crossed the room to get to his mom. She gently patted the space beside her, inviting him to join her on the bed. It was a small bed but she took up barely any space in it and he easily managed to lie down by her side, dodging the IVs and monitors hooked up to her arms as he had learned these past few weeks.

“My boy,” she said again, then, to the room, “Leave us for a moment, will you?”

So they did. Soon enough, the quiet cries and muffled sobs disappeared after Hyunjin’s father closed the door behind him. They lived in a tall building with a lot of windows and Hyunjin had always liked to look at the world below them. The cars looked tiny from up here, and people on the sidewalk were just moving dots.

Tonight was spectacular. The sky was bright orange and pink and purple. There were a few clouds but they only made the colors more vivid, like fresh paint, like food coloring in buttercream icing. Hyunjin put his head in the crook of his mother’s neck and, together, they watched the show that the sky was offering them. HHis mother’s bone poked through his soft cheek and her warm tears run down her neck.

“Hyunjin. You know I love you, don’t you? You know you’re my favorite thing in the whole world, right?”

Hyunjin was crying too, as if he knew. And maybe he had known for a couple of days. That it was going to be over soon. That his mom would leave him and his dad. It wasn’t her fault, Hyunjin knew it. But he was angry at her nonetheless. All of his friends had moms. They were healthy, beautiful, he couldn’t see their skeletons inside them.

But he knew. Hyunjin knew he was a little too young to understand the love a mother has for her child, and yet he did. “Yes, mommy.” He squeezed her loose pajamas in his small fist, clinging to her like he used to do when he was still a baby. “I love you mommy.” He kissed her on the cheek, and she smoothed his hair softly.

“I’m sorry I chose to die here,” she whispered, holding him tight. “It was unfair to you. But I couldn’t leave you. And I couldn’t leave this window. This is the window that made me want this apartment over much nicer ones. Because it faces the sunset.”

Hyunjin followed his mom’s gaze once again, staring outside where the colors were morphing into something else, something deeper. High up, the sky was the color of jeans. Down below, it was like flames.

“The sky is so pretty, mommy,” Hyunjin said, nestling comfortably in his mother’s embrace. She was cold everywhere, so he tried to warm her up. “What’s in it? Why does it look like that?”

His mother stayed silent for a long time, so long that Hyunjin started worrying. But then she gasped again, searching her air, her words, her soul escaping her body slowly. Hyunjin pressed his ear against her chest. He could hear the air rattling in her lungs. It reminded him of windy storms, with thunder and lighting and all.

“My Hyunjinnie, did you know that sunsets are made of the wings of angels? Their feathers mirror the light from the stars. It guides the way so people don’t get lost.”

Hyunjin thought about it for a long time. Yes, he could see it. He saw the path in the clouds, resembling a road with turns and twists, leading somewhere far up, where the fire in the sky was strongest. Hyunjin wondered if it was warm there. If, maybe, someone walking that road wouldn’t be cold anymore.

“Mom?” he breathed. He closed his eyes, but the light was filtering through his eyelids and all he saw was the color red. It was beautiful. “You won’t be cold anymore, mommy.” He was almost sure that an angel’s wings were warm and soft, like a puppy or a sweater. “Will you become an angel, too?”

“Yes, baby. You know you’ll be able to find me here. Yeah?” She pressed her bony hand over Hyunjin’s chest. “I’ll never be far. You can talk to me, no matter what.” Her speech was slow, slurred, labored.

The young boy took his mother’s hand in his. “You’re tired, mommy. You should take a nap.”

“My Hyunjin. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Those were his mother’s last words. She died before the sun had disappeared below the horizon.

Sunsets were never the same for Hyunjin after that.

You had never liked the idea of collecting. For some reason it had negative connotations for you, it was a direct synonym for stockpiling or hoarding. You associated it with people who couldn’t let go but not in the resolute kind of way—more like in a desperate attempt to fill the void of their lives. Not that you lacked empathy for people who did need to accumulate certain belongings, whether it was fridge magnets, mugs, valuable stamps, or even cars. It just wasn’t for you, it was not how your brain had been wired. Perhaps your father was to blame for this, as his mother had passed on to him the inability to get rid of even the smallest item if it held any sort of sentimental value. Maybe being raised in a house already crowded with mismatched furniture, surrounded by boxes filled with old report cards from when you were a child, countless photo albums, and entirely too many old music cassettes had given you something to think about. When you moved out of that house it was for a rather small apartment with limited storage, and you had no intention of filling it with objects.

Well, until the art fair.

It was a sunny afternoon with scorching sunshine and very little air. Still, you had decided to go out for a walk as you were catching a bad case of cabin fever. Your boyfriend was supposed to come home late from work tonight, so you had many hours of loneliness in front of you anyway. So why not head out, grab a refreshing drink at the corner store, and come back? Freelancing from home had its good moments but it also had the huge downside of making you forget that you weren’t a prisoner of the walls surrounding you.

There had been an art fair at the park down the street, the one facing the store. You stayed behind the window for a few minutes to enjoy the air conditioning, sipping the peach and tangerine juice you had just purchased—your favorite. It was sweet and tangy, and the ice cubes were colored in a soft blush shade that was pleasing to the eye. You watched the crowd walk among the booths, looking at art of all kinds. Sculptures, photographs, paintings, carvings. You figured you could take the long way home and walk through the park to have a look at the various items. Who knew—maybe it would spark some inspiration and you’d finally be able to continue writing the novel you had started months ago. After all, producing web content was one thing, and so was writing product descriptions or small portions of text for random magazines. You liked your work, but nothing compared to the feeling you got when you sat down to work on something creative. A story, all yours. Something that came from your soul.

You had never liked the idea of collecting until you saw the painting with the door. The booth was modest but filled with art that, at first glance, might have appeared simple. Ordinary. But you weren’t a person of first glances, and when you saw the canvas with the door, it hypnotized you. Oil on panel. A zoomed-in shot of a cream-colored door on a burgundy wall. The door had been left slightly ajar, just enough for the light that came from inside the room to spill out from the crack and shine on the copper doorknob. You stood there for a long time, just staring at it. The textures in it, the idea behind it. The warmth in the colors of the light—it looked like it came from a fireplace rather than a lamp. The artist was a woman with gray hair and a kind smile. She told you the painting was inspired by her childhood, when she used to visit her grandmother.

Is it for sale? you had asked her in between sips of your fruit juice. That day, you had returned home with the small painting carefully wrapped under your arm. When your boyfriend had come home that night, he had found it odd that you bought that painting. It’s unlike you to do this, he had said. He was right. Little did he know—it was not the last time.

After The Door there was June Morning and then, Sun and Moon. And then more. Your boyfriend worked more and more, often traveling for entire weeks to attend seminars. One night, after several glasses of wine, you realized that collecting was, in fact, a coping mechanism—it filled a void in your soul that you hadn’t wanted to admit was there in the first place. There was shame in admitting that the absence of something weighed so heavy. Your walls were adorned with paintings and photographs of all kinds, bought online or at other art fairs and conventions. You witnessed the beauty of it but it was ephemeral. A glance, a few instants of colors, echoes of emotion swirling in your mind like a song, like a sunset, then the darkness swallowing you again.

You knew there was nothing special about your story—it had been told many times before. Woman falls in love with a man. Everything is great at first, he makes her happy. They go places together. She sees her future in him, but when it’s with her, he only speaks in the present tense. Some nights he’s in their bed and sometimes he isn’t. She finds hints, clues. There is a pretty girl in his phone and more time spent away from home. One day, the woman leaves for a weekend—her childhood friend is getting married a few cities over and she has been invited. The man that she loves doesn’t want to go—he says he has work to do. She doesn’t believe him but she leaves anyway. The wedding is beautiful and smells like love and champagne. That night, the woman gets a phone call from a number she doesn’t recognize.

It’s the hospital. The man she loves has been injured in a fire. A gas leak, in fact. Half of the building gone, reduced to debris. She takes a train to cross the country again, tired, exhausted. She finds the man in the hospital with burns on his legs, his mother by his side. He is asleep. The mother takes the woman for a walk in the corridor. It’s quiet, calm. They walk, and walk, and walk. The woman is still wearing her cocktail dress from the wedding. They stop in front of a hospital room where a pretty girl is asleep with her arm bandaged up. Most of the apartment is gone, the mother tells the woman. I’m really sorry. And yet, the woman knows the worst is yet to come. He wasn’t alone when it happened. He was with that girl. He admitted to me that he has been seeing her behind your back for some time now. I’m so sorry.

Your future, gone. Your love, gone. Your home, gone. Your paintings. Ashes.

Your entire life unmade, just like that. It came as a shock but you weren’t even surprised, as if you expected misery at every corner. The paradox of it all felt like an earthquake, shaking you from within. And yet it was at that moment that you realized you just had to leave this place and never look back—either as an act of self-destruction or survival, or maybe somehow, a little bit of both.

You accepted the iced coffee from the lady behind the counter—the owner’s mother, a woman who might seem scary if you didn’t know her. Except you did know her, and you knew she had the warmest heart. “Thanks!” you said with a smile, taking a sip of your drink to fight today’s heat.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat?” Mrs. Han asked, as a mom would. It was your favorite spot to hang out, to drink, to write. To exist. Much better than being home. “You’ve been here for a while already. Go back to your table, I’ll bring you something.”

You knew better than to argue with her and returned to your laptop, barely focusing on the words on the screen, too busy tasting the delicious drink. You had emails to check or to ignore anyway, but you hadn’t come here to work per se—you were here to write. Writing was the only remedy against your own mind. When your brain played tricks on you, the only thing left to do was to fill it with stories.

And you had a lot on your mind today.

It wasn’t Mrs. Han who brought you a snack—it was her son. Jisung came out from the small kitchen holding a plate of fruit with cheese. A few clients watched him cross the room to sit with you, but you recognized most of them as regulars, so they would have been used to seeing this very scene anyway.

Jisung was proud of his business. He often said he didn’t know how to define it exactly—a place with tables and chairs in it that served food and some booze too as well as coffee. One thing was certain though: it was successful. Maybe the name he had chosen was prophetic in some way as he had named it Polaris. In fact, it was often so crowded during the weekends that you rarely visited it then, unless you wanted to take some people out for drinks. But it was the perfect spot to work during the week—large windows with a view of the rocky coast and the ocean, high ceilings with vines and real plants all over the place. In between tables, on shelves, on the counters. There were a few pine trees surrounding the building too, providing shade and a cool breeze.

You felt good here, and the company wasn’t too bad.

“Eat up,” Jisung said, pushing the plate in front of you. Cubed melon, peeled tangerines, honeyed mulberries and slices of your favorite cheese. “Mom says you’re starving.”

You picked up some melon and bit into it, releasing its sweet juice in your mouth. “Of course she does,” you scoffed. “I haven’t eaten in a week,” you added sarcastically. “Thank you for the fruit, Ji.” While you generally paid for your drinks, Mrs. Han would never allow her son to charge you for food, especially not food she forced you to eat.

Jisung grabbed some cheese and ate comfortably, which was more than fine. One glance at the plate and you knew that Mrs. Han had prepared enough food for the two of you, making sure her son didn’t start his afternoon with an empty stomach. He had the bad habit of forgetting to eat lunch, especially on Thursdays—he had a lot of prep to do for the weekends on Thursdays.

Sometimes you’d go into the kitchen and help. Peeling fruit, slicing limes and lemons to make the drinks, marinating chicken, making artichoke dip. You never accepted money from Jisung, but he always sent you home with a bag full of food, and after having a drink or two with you.

He had been the first person you had met after you had moved here. It meant something, didn’t it?

That was a while ago. Freshly off the plane and you hadn’t really known where to go. Your eyes were sore 24/7 from all the tears you had cried over your cheating ex and the lost paintings and how seemingly everybody knew he was being unfaithful but nobody dared to tell you. I mean, I didn’t know, I just knew he was talking with that girl. Whatever. You had lived with your father for a while but it soon became obvious that you simply couldn’t stay in that town. You had to go away. Every corner of it reminded you of the betrayal, of the loss. You felt trapped. It had made you sick. In the end, it was your father who had insisted. If you don’t go, I’m throwing you out. He had bought your plane ticket. He had helped you find an apartment in this new city.

And so you had landed here. That was some time ago, although you weren’t sure it mattered how long exactly. You didn’t like to think about that. About how long it had been. Every day was just a reminder that your mind was stuck in the past anyway, that it kept dragging your heart with it.

You were a pool of stagnant water. Unmoving, stuck, festering. You hated it. You hated that about yourself. You hated your ex for doing this to you. For reducing you to this. To your broken heart, to your wasted future. To a collection of paintings that had burned. You hated that your life didn’t amount to what you had—it only amounted to what you had lost, and there was so much of it.

I’m over it, you’d tell someone, someone met through contracts. You had made a few acquaintances since moving. I’m over him, you told Jisung someday after closing hours, I just miss my paintings. You had said those words as if you were testing them, uncertain if they were true or if they tasted like a lie. You found that you meant it, somehow. With time, you had come to realize that you didn’t need to mean everything one hundred percent, all the time. If you only meant it seventy, or forty percent sometimes, it was alright.

Or at least you had deluded yourself into thinking so.

You went for a slice of tangerine, letting its sweet and tangy flavor fill your mouth while you watched the horizon, trying to pull yourself out of your own dark thoughts. Doing so could sometimes be excruciatingly exhausting, but not so much when you were here, watching the sea. Sometimes you felt alone even in the presence of others, but not with Jisung.

He seemed to sense the shift in your energy. “How are you doing anyway?” he asked after eating some melon. You turned to him just in time to see him gesture at your computer. “Are you busy these days?”

You shrugged. “Yes and no.” You had always been a little bit of a procrastinator while also being eternally stressed out about deadlines. It strangely worked out—often at the cost of sleep or meals, though. “What about you? You need some help this afternoon? For the prep?” Maybe it would help keep your mind off things, although there were nights when you woke up from nightmares about Jisung’s impressive collection of kitchen knives.

“I’d love to, but I’m actually training someone new today,” Jisung explained. He didn’t have many employees, so you knew this was a big deal. Part of it was him being a control freak. The other was him truly despising the process of hiring and training people. To Jisung, it was always easier to just do things himself. “I gotta have some work left for him to do.”

You couldn’t suppress the smile that painted itself on your lips. “Ah, is that why your mom is here today? To make sure you don’t lose your temper with the new guy?”

“Shut up.” Jisung popped a few mulberries into his mouth and chewed them loudly, taking an exaggerated annoyed expression. “He actually used to work in a restaurant. He’s moving to this part of town and he wants to work closer to where he lives. I’m hoping he can understand the basics of waiting tables and writing bills for orders.”

“Can’t be much worse than the one who kept asking you what the recipe for a grilled-cheese sandwich is…” At that, both Jisung and you burst into laughter, which managed to finally calm you down. A comfortable silence fell between you, so you turned your back on him again to watch the sea. And the sky. The waves and the way the sun reflected on them. You would never get tired of that.

Jisung left you when his phone rang somewhere and you finished eating your fruit. When you were done, you brought back the empty plate yourself and rinsed it in the sink before returning to your laptop—you’d try to wrap up soon and leave before the late afternoon crowd showed up for drinks and appetizers.

The pool of stagnant water that you were was trying to move on, and to do so, you had decided to write. A story. You didn’t want to call it a book or a novel because to you, it wasn’t much more than a few thousand words on a document for now. You weren’t sure where you were going with it, not exactly, but you thought that writing about the things that had hurt you would help. Well, the therapist you had seen briefly had seemed to think so.

Some days it felt like the words were a battle, a hill to conquer. Some days the hill was a mountain. Some other days the words were a tranquil lake on which you paddled gently, moving downstream to wherever your story was taking you. Those were the best days—when it felt like your brain was taking control over your writing process. When you became nothing but a body capable of typing words into a computer. You didn’t have to think about it, words and sentences simply flowed from your fingers and appeared on your screen and they made sense. And they made things make sense too, things that shouldn’t make sense, like the searing pain in your heart and the memory of your mother’s harsh words.

You returned there. To navigate the river, you had to let the pain course through your veins. You let the blue of the sky speak to you and whisper the next word, the next sentence. At first, you hadn’t wanted to write about something so close to your heart. You hadn’t wanted to write about any of it, about the darkness that had made a home out of you, about the missing paintings, about all the ways you had been led to believe you would be happy someday. About how it felt to be standing in front of nothing. A void. A future that had no light in it, just questions, just regrets.

A loud laugh pulled you away from your computer screen. It took a few seconds for your brain to process it all—to remember you weren’t in the story, you were simply writing it. The sea was right below your eyes and the sun had shifted in the sky, floating right above where it would begin its descent for tonight’s sunset. For a moment, you considered putting your laptop back into your bag and staying here just to look at it, at the way the sky would come alive. You did that sometimes and it never bothered Jisung—this was your table. He knew you enough to know not to let anyone sit there if he knew you were likely to come in.

The laughter echoed in the room again, making you look away from the scenery. There were a few more clients than earlier, most of them in small groups, having beers. Mrs. Han was on her way out—she liked to come and help her son out, but you also knew she wanted to be home in time to heat up her dinner and eat it while watching her favorite drama.

However, you quickly located the source of the laughter—it wasn’t a client. Jisung stood by the bar area with a man you had never seen before, but judging by the black apron tied around his waist, he must have been the new guy in training.

You saw him. And then you stared at him. He was listening intently to Jisung who seemed to be telling a very funny and lively story. He was tall and had a strange posture, something that was both very solid and nonchalant, or perhaps none of these things. One of his arms leaned against the counter while the other one was held up a little—he had a hand on his shoulder, keeping a relaxed pose while smoothing out the fabric of his t-shirt. It was just a t-shirt, black with white lettering, but he made it look refined. Something about the way it hung on his broad shoulders, maybe, or about the way he had matched it with baggy jeans and sneakers. Something about him screamed fancy, but nothing hinted of pretension. He gave the vibe of somebody who was not at all aware of their own aura. You just knew that he had opened his closet and selected clothes because it was his first day at a job and he just needed the clothes to be clean and comfortable, but he looked like a model in a fashion magazine.

And this is what you thought before you even saw his face. Jisung took a few steps to the left, reaching for something in a drawer, so the guy turned, following him with his gaze, still listening to his story, and it gave you a better view of him.

Mid-length hair that must be dark in its natural color but had been bleached a few weeks or months ago by the look of it. Something fashionably lazy, not unkempt, not styled. This guy was the textbook definition of waking up like this. He had some remnants of color in there, giving the hair a faint strawberry-blond hue that was both intriguing and completely forgettable. Or rather, would have been forgettable if it had been on anyone’s head except this guy.

He looked like nothing short of a demigod—big, brown eyes, perfect nose with a rounded tip, plush, cushiony lips the color of Aperol with a few drops of grenadine in it. His gaze was intense and intelligent, as if he studied everything around him with the intent of a philosopher and yet with the innocence of a child. I’ve never seen anyone like this. The way he held himself, the way he moved, the way his long fingers fidgeted with his shirt, the counter. He grabbed a pen from his pocket and slid it on his ear, nodding at Jisung as his story was coming to an end. You thought that the pen was a little ostentatious considering that orders were taken by waiters on phones and that there was literally no use for paper in this goddamn restaurant. But whatever.

It took you a few seconds to realize that Jisung had extended an arm and was vaguely gesturing toward your table. The handsome dude nodded again and followed as Jisung made his way to you, offering you a bashful smile. You searched for your air a little, attempting to take deep breaths as the two of them were approaching. You didn’t like to be in the presence of someone so good-looking, especially if they were a stranger. Especially if they looked like a young god descended from the divine world to bless mortals with his beauty.

“Hey, y/n!” Jisung chirped, stopping right at your table. “I was wondering if you could beta test Hyunjin’s abilities to take an order?”

Hyunjin. A name that sounded like a poem. For a few seconds, you forced yourself to keep looking at Jisung, at his relaxed demeanor, his smile. You basked in the familiarity of it all, knowing that when you would allow your gaze to jump from him to the demigod dude, you would lose that. The familiarity, the comfort.

And you did. You made eye contact, your mind empty, your mind running marathons. He was standing right behind Jisung, far taller than him, observing you with his head tilted to the side, just a little. More than enough. His pretty lips curved into a gentle smile, making his wide eyes disappear into a lovely squint that made warmth spread in your chest, radiating against the breeze coming from the window, reminding you of the approaching sunset. From up close, he was even more beautiful. Like a flower, like a painting, like a scenic landscape. Pleasant to look at from afar, but a straight-up masterpiece from up close. His smooth skin was the color of honey, reminiscent of Saffron Yellow, of golden marigolds. You looked at the texture of it, how soft it looked, the moles accentuating his cheek and his under-eye area.

You didn’t know why you said that, but you said, “Oh, I mean, uh, I was leaving—” You were, really. You would have sat here for a few more instants, but not long. To avoid the crowd.

“Oh,” Jisung started, but you were still looking at the man behind him. Hyunjin seemed a little uneasy, his long arms dangling on either side of him, his expression letting you know he hated the idea of disturbing you.

“But I’m actually a little hungry,” you quickly corrected, making yourself smile. This time, you did turn to Jisung. “I will gladly be his first client. Anything to help you and your establishment, beloved friend.”

Jisung clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Aren’t you a sweetheart,” he replied jokingly before adding, to Hyunjin, “Do the bill like you would do for anyone for practice purposes, but this one doesn’t pay. I guess.”

“If you ever charge me for food I’ll tell your mother!” you threatened as Jisung walked away after noticing that the bar section manager, Chan, was trying to get his attention. Jisung didn’t even look back as he not-so-elegantly flipped you off, but you could still picture the shit-eating grin he was surely displaying right now.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, perhaps a little surprised by the exchange between Jisung and you. However, he seemed to regain his nonchalant composure quite fast. He stretched his long neck and smiled at you. Long neck, long arms, long ass legs, too. He looked like he had no business being this handsome. The smile was warm, like he meant it. Maybe he did.

“I’m Hyunjin,” he said pointlessly. The smile morphed into something else—not quite a pout, just a different shape of a smile. He seemed shy all of a sudden. “Y/n, right? Jisung said you were his friend… and a friend of the place.” His voice was smoother than his skin, silkier than his unruly hair. The words spilled from his pink mouth like a gentle sunrise, like a pianissimo piece played on old violins. He was the softest-speaking person you had ever heard.

It took you a few seconds to process his voice and the words he had said, but once you did, you chuckled. “I suppose so. I came here for the first time… literally as I got off the plane after moving to this city. His mother served me dinner and she sort of adopted me. To Jisung’s great despair, no doubt.”

“I think he likes you,” Hyunjin offered with a playful tone. “I mean, he hasn’t mentioned a plan to murder you in the half-hour I’ve spent with him today, so there’s that.” Shit, as if you needed him to be funny on top of looking like this…

“As the kids say—a win is a win.” Something shifted in you when your lips curved into a smile. It was as if you could taste it. That smile. The remnants of fresh fruit on your tongue, the sunset that was brewing in the sky just like a storm would. As if, somehow, you knew this moment was going to hold significance someday.

“A win is a win,” Hyunjin agreed with a stiff nod, pulling out one of the dilapidated phones used to take orders. He licked his lips, running a hand through his hair, freeing his face for a second or two. Long enough for his unusual beauty to hit you, to change you a little, maybe. “So, miss Jisung’s friend, what will you have today?”

You knew the menu by heart. Hell, a couple of dishes were directly inspired by your requests, same with the drinks. It was displayed on large blackboards all around the dining room, easy to locate and read from any table. You looked at it today even though you didn’t need to. Part of you was trying to convince yourself it was to give Hyunjin a credible first experience here, but the other, saner part of your brain was roasting the shit out of you because it knew it was just to give yourself some time. Bitch, you’re flustered because you haven’t even noticed a dude in fucking forever. Own up to it at the very least maybe? Some time for what, though? To process his existence, to reflect on it? To analyze the scent emanating from him?

It was undeniably floral. He smelled like Damask roses—silky and strong with sweet undertones. Honey or vanilla or perhaps both. There was more to it too, but it got lost in the soft breeze blowing from the open window. Fancy cologne, something smoky. Probably the most intricate scent you had smelled on a person, ever.

But you couldn’t think about that right now, could you? You would mull over this sometime later, in the comfort of your own home and in the company of a bottle of wine. For now, you had to say something, because your long silence was starting to get weird.

“I think I’ll have the creamy steak fettuccine,” you finally managed. Hyunjin immediately nodded and typed something into the phone. He had exceptionally long fingers. “And a glass of white wine, as cold as you can make it.”

Hyunjin stopped typing abruptly, raising his gaze just enough to meet yours, giving you an appraising look. He scanned you like he was an x-ray machine, then a new shade of smile appeared on his pretty lips. “Sauvignon blanc, I assume?” He raised an eyebrow with a playful glimmer in his eyes.

You chortled. “Yes, of course.” With a frown, you added, “What gave it away?”

Hyunjin shrugged. He was typing again. “Just the vibes. You seem like you have taste. Any preference for the wine?”

“Chan will know what wine I like,” you said.

“Oh, awesome. I’ll have that made for you,” Hyunjin concluded after a few seconds. It would take him a couple more clients to get the hang of the app—the user interface was awful, it really wasn’t his fault. Jisung just stubbornly refused to make the switch to a better app. “Thanks for your patience,” he added with a small voice and a sorry smile.

“Don’t worry, you’re just fine.” You looked around. Jisung was still at the bar, deep in a conversation with Chan. They were looking at a phone screen. By the looks of it, this was about items to add to a shopping list of some sort. “I’ll make sure to tell Ji you can actually talk to clients like a normal person. A rare feat around here, seems like…”

Hyunjin looked like he wasn’t sure if he should—or could—laugh at that. In the end, he did chuckle, putting a hand over his mouth. “Is it that bad? Is that why Jisung was so excited when I told him I worked in a restaurant before?” It’s not that he was more handsome when he was smiling—it was more like he was another shade of handsome. The difference between the first moments of a sunrise and the peak of it.

“It’s pretty bad,” you admitted. “For some reason, since the pandemic, Jisung is struggling to find decent people to staff this place. He works a lot.” You decided that Hyunjin seemed like the kind of guy with a good sense of humor. “Hey, wanna make him laugh? Be as serious as you can, and when the occasion arises, ask him what the recipe for a grilled-cheese sandwich is.”

Hyunjin made a face, suppressing a laugh. He leaned closer to you, his unique scent enveloping you as he tried to remain unheard by Jisung. “The recipe for grilled-cheese?” he whispered, his thick but perfectly trimmed eyebrows stitched into a frown.

“Just trust me.” You nodded vehemently. You also took a deep breath, and the sudden image of Hyunjin’s scent entering your body, your lungs, and your bloodstream came to you. If the color amber had a smell, that would be it. It felt as if he had colored your insides with the scent.

“Okay.” Hyunjin let out the dorkiest, dumbest, most adorable giggle you had ever heard. “I’ll be back with your wine.” He winked at you before walking away, tucking the phone in the back pocket of his jeans.

You couldn’t resist looking behind your shoulder to follow him with your gaze. His gait was just as unique as the rest of him was. Near perfect posture—straight back, relaxed shoulders, chin at just the right angle. The upper part of his body sort of looked like he was on the runway of a fashion show in Paris or Milan. His legs looked like they were too long for him, like they could tangle at any moment, but he walked confidently, crossing the bistro to go ask Chan for your wine.

Chan listened to Hyunjin’s demands, only looking away from him once to confirm that this glass of sauvignon blanc would be for you. He knew exactly what you liked and how you liked it, and you smiled when you saw him reach for a glass from the freezer instead of one on the shelf.

Then, without skipping a beat, Hyunjin turned to Jisung. You clearly heard him when he said, word for word, “Hey, Jisung—Jake asked me to lend a hand in the kitchen back there but I’m too embarrassed to ask him, the cook… Can you tell me what’s the recipe for a grilled-cheese sandwich, please?”

For exactly two seconds, the color drained from Jisung’s skin and he looked more like a ghost than a man. Then, his expression changed. A flick of the gaze, a frown, lips parting open… He spun his heels, almost turning his back to Hyunjin, but facing you. He was enraged, yet a grin was appearing on his lips. He was unable to resist the humor of the situation.

“YOU!!!!!!!!!!” Beside him, Hyunjin and Chan were laughing so hard they had to lean against the counter so they didn’t collapse.

“Love you too, Jisung!” You stuck out your tongue at him and returned to your laptop as if nothing had happened while both Chan and Hyunjin were struggling to breathe.

As he passed you on his way to the kitchen, Jisung gave you the most delicate slap behind your head. “Good one,” he mentioned. “Smartass.”

As it turned out, however, you couldn’t focus on the words on your screen, too distracted by the conversation going at the bar. Mostly it was Chan explaining to Hyunjin the hard-to-believe—yet one hundred percent true—story behind the grilled-cheese sandwich shenanigans. You tried reading the last few sentences you had written but not much of it made sense, not anymore. Not for now, at least.

It took just a few more seconds for Hyunjin to set a small napkin on your table and then your glass of wine. “Sauvignon blanc for madame,” he said jokingly. “There’s been an issue with your grilled-cheese sandwich, I must apologize…”

“Ah, really?” you retorted with the same fancy accent. “What sort of establishment is this, then? Do you even know who I am? I must speak to your manager immediately! ”

“Yes, I was informed of your status as the Princess of the land of Sauvignon… I am truly sorry, your Royal Highness, for this absolute fuck up of a situation…”

You burst into laughter, causing a few people to turn their heads toward you, but you didn’t care. Hyunjin openly laughed with you, his head falling back. A group of newly arrived clients caught his eye as they went to sit a few tables behind you. He did his best to swallow the rest of the laugh, but a bright smile remained imprinted on his lips. “I’ll be right back, Princess.”

Hyunjin walked away, completely oblivious to the fact that the word princess had just about the same impact on you as if he had run you over with a truck. Your brain lit up, synapses suddenly awake and overstimulated. You could hear the faint breeze, the soft lull noises of lazy waves down below, the clinking from the kitchen. Voices, conversations, cars on the street. And yet, louder than all of this, echoing in your head, was Hyunjin’s voice. Princess.

How sad. How pathetic. A simple word, a little joke, making your heart run like this. Giving you an impression of something that wasn’t there. You hated your brain, hated your heart even more. Your heart had never been trustworthy. It had only led to despair, to sorrow, to a collection of paintings that had become ashes. There was no beauty in that, no symbolism. Just loss.

Some people said they had a heavy heart. A heart burdened by sorrow—you understood. There were days you felt like this, too. Like it cost you effort to even get out of your bed and face the day. But most days, really, your chest just felt empty. Your heart a mere husk floating in a wind of nothingness. Incapable of grasping onto the smallest things for comfort—a smile from a stranger, a phone call from your father, a friendly conversation with someone you just met. Someone who smelled like roses, like the hope you refused to have. No anchor, no nothing, just an empty shell. Just existing.

Your heart was an idiot. This, your brain knew. Learn to tell a joke from flirting, maybe, and you’ll stop being so fucking miserable. And yet.

The glass was sweating in the diffuse warmth of the day. A few rays of sunshine were licking at it, making the wine look like liquid gold. You took a sip, letting the cool liquid distract you for a second or two, letting the familiar taste of your favorite wine comfort you. You watched the waves, the other patrons, you watched Hyunjin as he introduced himself to clients. You watched Jisung watching him, realizing that maybe, for once, he could take a day off sometimes because Hyunjin seemed like he knew what he was doing, even though sometimes he was struggling with the app a little.

It was Jisung who brought your food, and you tried to ignore the slight disappointment when you saw him instead of Hyunjin. He was on the phone—as he was most of the time anyway, trying to put out fires—and didn’t linger to chat, but motioned toward your half-empty glass to signal that he would get you a refill soon. You didn’t object—you weren’t driving and you needed something, anything to take the edge off.

As always, the food was delicious. You had watched Jake or Seungmin make this dish many times, trying to learn their ways. It didn’t taste quite the same depending on who was in the kitchen, but both versions were delicious. That being said, when you tried to recreate it at home, it was never quite right. Not bad, just not… like this. You had given up trying when Jisung had sent you home with the ingredients from the fridge here—including all the spices you’d need, perfectly measured—and the result was still a galaxy away from what you ate at the restaurant.

As you ate, you realized you had actually been hungry this whole time and the pieces of fruit from earlier had done very little for your stomach. You tasted the food with an appetite, appreciating the pairing with the wine and the notes of fresh sage in the sauce as well as the mushrooms, sauteed to perfection in butter with a hint of garlic and parsley.

“How is your meal, princess?” You jumped—you hadn’t noticed that Hyunjin was back at your table. He walked almost like a cat, silently, barely shifting the air around him despite moving at an impressive speed. “Shouldn’t you have one of your servants test the food before eating it, making sure I didn’t poison you?”

You almost choked on the bite of steak and mushroom you had just put in your mouth. You barely chewed it before swallowing it and washing it down with wine—in fact, Hyunjin was here to bring you your refill in yet another frosted glass.

“But why would you poison me, Princess of—uh, what was it already, ah—Sauvignon? You, the Angel of Grilled-cheeses, would never do such a thing!”

Hyunjin stared at you for three long seconds before the both of you laughed together. His cheeks were pink from all the laughter, and it looked good on him. You knew yours must be a couple of shades darker from his presence and from the wine, too. You also knew it didn’t look good on you, not like him.

“Now if the job here doesn’t work out, that’s something I can put on my CV for sure,” Hyunjin said. “Angel of Grilled-cheeses… Never thought I’d hear those words once in my life.” He took a deep breath to regain his composure. The dining room was being steadily filled by people who had finished their workday and were looking to get tipsy. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, the food’s delicious and I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s not poisoned,” you replied with a smile that felt strangely hazy. Maybe the wine had gone down a little quick, maybe it was worse because of the heat and the imminent sunset. “Thanks, though.”

“No problem,” he started, but you didn’t hear a period at the end. The sentence lingered like a bullet that sank into flesh. A bullet without an exit wound. “princess,” he finally added, his voice quiet, muffled, but it was because of the high tide, because of the breeze. Or at least you told yourself that. He said the word but the bullet never found its way out. It just stayed there.

You finished your meal. You didn’t have to pay for it, Jisung reminded you of that when he noticed you were putting your laptop back into your bag and quickly emptying the contents of your wine glass. “Want me to wrap that for you? For lunch, tomorrow?” he asked, pointing at the half-finished pasta dish in front of you. You had stopped being hungry at some point.

“No, thanks. Eat it if you want, you know your mother will call to remind you to have dinner.” You were just in a hurry to leave. Hyunjin was four tables over, taking orders from a group of pretty girls. The room was almost full, and you were occupying a great table. You didn’t like crowds. Not today, at least. You would miss the sunset if you left right now. “I just gotta go.”

Jisung knew better than to argue. In fact, there were days you told yourself he knew too much about you. He knew about your paintings, all the clothes you had thrown away because they supposedly smelled like smoke but really it was just because they smelled like the future you would never have. He knew about the poor state of your heart but he had never used it against you. “Hey, you’ll be alright? Minho’s on his way over here, he can take you home.”

“I’m good. I already called a cab,” you lied, shaking your phone. You trusted Jisung. One day, you ought to ask him if you were a good liar at all or if all these times, he knew. “By the way, the new guy’s good in my book,” you added. You did mean this, though. “He’s nice. You should keep him around.”

You walked home in the heat brought by a sunset you couldn’t quite see from the street because of the tall buildings and the crowd. You showered, poured yourself a glass of cool wine, but found yourself unable to write, or watch a movie, or listen to a podcast. Your window didn’t have a great view, but you could see the sky turn from muted blue to gray. You drank more wine. You thought about the lost paintings, the texture of them, the way they looked at different times of the day or year. The light really isn’t the same in winter, or in summer, or anything in between. You drank more wine. You thought about the times you had believed you would be loved forever, cherished.

You thought about how no one before tonight had called you princess, or had spoken a term of endearment that way to you directly. Hyunjin had filled his mouth with it, coated it with amber, with gold, with the scent of roses, before letting that word spill from his lips like a waterfall or something else, but you didn’t know what. There was less and less wine in the bottle.

You dreamt that night, something too terrible to think about it. Something too shameful, too ridiculous, too beautiful.

When Hyunjin was twelve years old, a bird crashed into his bedroom window.

His father had them move out of the apartment sometime after Hyunjin’s mother passed away. Hyunjin had not wanted to leave the apartment, the memories that lingered within those walls, the sunsets. He had refused to go, refused to pack his belongings into the boxes. He had also stopped eating his meals and going to school, locking himself in his room for several days. He would only leave the room when his father was asleep to use the restroom, wash up, and maybe grab an apple or a banana on the counter. His father could leave if he wanted—he had already accepted a job outside of the city, something that paid well apparently, but that would keep him busy. Hyunjin wasn’t an idiot—he knew that his father would rather be busy because he could not get over the death of his wife. He had to run away from this place because even though he didn’t believe in ghosts, she was haunting him.

She was haunting Hyunjin too, but he welcomed that. It was all that he had left of her. The things he had kept from his mother no longer smelled like her, but it felt right to keep them anyway. A scarf, her favorite necklace, a few books. Already at that age, Hyunjin liked books, he liked the stories inside them and the way they made him feel even more. In more ways than one, they were all he had sometimes.

It took a few days but eventually, it wasn’t his father who knocked at his door, it was his uncle. His mother’s brother. And he looked so much like her, too. It was as if a little bit of his mom was in him, and it made him love his uncle even more.

He let him in. His eyes were wet but his voice was soft. He held him for a long time, and together they agreed that Hyunjin was better off with his dad than all alone here. Can’t you come live here with me, though? he had asked, but already at the age of nine he knew that was unreasonable. He had a wife and children and a job and a life.

I’m scared I’ll forget mom if I leave here, he finally admitted. I’m scared that she won’t be able to find us. Do you think ghosts know where to find people they want to haunt after they leave? His father may not believe in ghosts, but Hyunjin did, or rather he tried to. He hoped so badly to see his mother reappear someday, even as a lifeless wraith. Just for a minute. If she did, he wanted her to haunt the bedroom where she had died, so she could sit by the window like she did while she was alive.

Do you know where I’m going? Hyunjin had also asked. Do you know if I’ll see the sunsets from there? Part of him still thought his mother was one of the angels whose wings reflected the light of the sun, creating the colorful displays in the sky.

His uncle had cried that evening as he helped Hyunjin sort through his belongings and put them in boxes. He folded all of his clothes neatly. His mother had never been good at folding clothes, but he didn’t mind. His uncle had told him about the town he and his father were moving to, that they would not live in a building like this but in a house. And surely, a whole house would mean that he could watch the sunset from one of those windows.

He may have cried easily, but his uncle was always honest with him and he didn’t speak to him like he was a baby. Your mother will always find you, Hyunjin, and you, her. You’ll never really forget her. Maybe one day you won’t remember her smile as clearly, or the little things she did, and it’ll make you sad. But you’ll never forget her love.

The next day, he was sitting at the back of the car, squeezed between two piles of cardboard boxes. On their way to their new home, Hyunjin’s father spoke a little, but not too much. He told him about his new job. He told Hyunjin about the school in that town, but that if he wanted to wait for the next school year, he could be homeschooled until the end of this one—it was up to him. Hyunjin chose to go to school to make new friends, and it was how he met Felix. Felix liked video games and Hyunjin liked to play basketball but they got along well anyway. He had a TV in his bedroom and a trampoline in his backyard.

When his father gave Hyunjin a tour of the new house, he showed him what he thought would be his bedroom. See, it’s pretty spacious, he said. The house had been painted already and the walls had obviously been painted to cater to his taste—instead of the cream and beige of the rest of the house, this room was blue with green accents. It had a big closet and two small windows on a wall. There was no bed, just a twin mattress for now, but his father promised him bunk beds. He hadn’t met Felix just yet but this promise turned out to be useful as Felix often liked to come over.

And then he showed him the attic. His father said this would be his office. It had a large window that had a view of the empty lot behind the house. Just a field with tall grass and some rocks, with a narrow stream crossing it. The walls were white and gray. The sloped ceiling fascinated Hyunjin, but not as much as what he saw through that window.

The sky above the field, sapphire blue high up turning to periwinkle close to the horizon. And, below that, the sun. No longer an orb but a ball of fire, resting on a bed of angel feathers full of pinks and oranges and purples.

“Dad, can this be my bedroom instead? Please?” As if his father could refuse him anything now that Hyunjin had accepted to follow him here without any fuss. He still got the bunk beds, and a fuzzy carpet to add some color to the room. It was blue like a summer sky and green like the forest of pines that lay past the grass field. The room was too warm in the summer and too cold in the winter, but it was his room and he liked it.

Hyunjin never had a normal birthday after his mom passed because she had died that day. But that year, his uncle gave him paint, and brushes.

He started painting sunsets. Every day was different for Hyunjin. Sometimes the orange was more golden, sometimes the pinks were linear and sometimes they were swirls in the clouds. Not two sunsets were the same. He would sit in his bed and recreate them with the paint. It was acrylic paint. Then, for Christmas, he asked for more, and his uncle got him watercolors with all the appropriate supplies. He liked to mix watercolors and see how the strokes of his brushes would react to the water. He liked to paint blues in watercolor. Sometimes, he would mix the two kinds of paint—do the blues in aquarelle but mix a powerful orange in acrylic. Then, gouache. Later, much later, oil.

He painted other things, too. Trees, flowers, his father’s favorite coffee mug, Felix’s favorite candy.

When Hyunjin was twelve years old, a bird crashed into his bedroom window.

He was alone at home. His father didn’t like to leave him for entire days, but Hyunjin was old enough to take care of himself. He had leftovers in the fridge, homework to do, and movies to watch. And, he always had his paint and brushes to take care of him. If he wanted, he could call his father or Felix’s house—surely, his mom would come to pick him up if something was wrong.

It was morning. Hyunjin hadn't even had breakfast yet. He was getting dressed. It was early October and he wasn’t sure whether to dress warmly or not—in the end, he went for jeans and a t-shirt, figuring he could always add a jacket if he needed one. A loud bang behind him made him jump. He felt a slight shake to the wall, too—the wall at the far end of his bedroom, with the large window. His heart was beating fast but he tried to calm his breathing so as to hear other noises if he needed. He realized the noise had come from the window itself.

Could it be? After all these years? “Mom? Mom, is that you?”

Hyunjin crossed the room with careful steps and chills running down his spine. He looked through the window, not finding anything unusual. Same with indoors, too—nothing had been knocked down a shelf or anything.

Returning his attention to the window, Hyunjin stretched his neck trying to look below, and it’s when he saw it. It hadn’t been his mother knocking to say hello—there was something on the ground. A ball of brown feathers, some of those feathers moving lazily in the wind.

By the looks of it, it was a rather large bird. It wasn’t moving except for the effect created by the wind. Hyunjin’s heart leaped in his chest and he ran all the way from the attic to the closet door leading outside to go and check on the bird. But the bang had been loud. Loud enough that he had felt it, not just heard it, and for some reason, that meant a lot to Hyunjin.

He ran around the house but it still took him a few seconds until he had gathered enough courage to look around the corner. When he did, the bird was no longer still—it was twitching on the ground in a way that could not be caused by the gentle autumn wind. The sky was bright and blue, with big fluffy white clouds, and Hyunjin wished he hadn’t seen the bird twitch. But he did.

He let out a shriek. Later, Hyunjin understood that the emotions inhabiting him in that moment were simply too big for a twelve-year-old to process. One might believe it was stupid, foolish, excessive. After all, he had seen his mother die when he was eight. He had been in her arms when it had happened. And yet, as an adult, Hyunjin only understood his younger self. His mother had died peacefully, watching the sunset, holding to her heart the thing she treasured most—him.

But at that moment, that day with the blue sky, Hyunjin hadn’t thought the bird dead, he had thought it was something worse than dead—he had thought it was suffering. So he had screamed, and cried, running away, running and running, feeling guilty. A little voice in his mind had told him that he ought to go back and put an end to the bird’s pain. But how would he do that? Would he twist its neck? Hit its head hard with something heavy until it stopped twitching? What terrible thoughts for a child to have. And yet, Hyunjin had had them. The brain, the soul, never really gets over that.

Fortunately, he ran into Felix’s dad. The Lees lived in the same neighborhood and he regularly saw them as they liked to be outdoors a lot. That day, his dad was walking the family dog and had immediately tried to calm Hyunjin down. But Hyunjin was crying so much that he was choking on his own tears, or maybe it was the remorse, the shame blocking his airways. After some time, he had managed to explain the situation, and Felix’s dad had taken his hand and together, they walked back to Hyunjin’s house.

He had made sure that Hyunjin was waiting away from that side of the house and had left him with the dog, in the shade of a large zelkova tree. The dog was nice, it was some sort of mixed breed with a soft brown coat and long, floppy ears. The dog really liked sausage and yogurt.

“Hyunjin, come here, will you?” Felix’s dad had a deep voice. Later, Hyunjin witnessed Felix’s voice turn into something similar.

Hyunjin didn’t want to go, but he did anyway. Felix’s dad was holding the bird—it was bigger than Hyunjin had thought, and completely still. Like this, it looked like it was sleeping.

“It’s a grouse… they’re not the smartest birds. It died on impact. Look.” He released the bird’s head from his palm and it fell against its body, limp. Lifeless. “The neck is broken. It broke when it hit the window, not the ground.”

“But it was moving,” Hyunjin insisted, his voice made raspy by all the screaming and crying. “I saw it.”

“It was dead. Sometimes, after death, muscles and nerves react, but there’s no feeling, no consciousness.”

Mom didn’t do that when she died, Hyunjin thought. She died and that was it. And then, the sunset was over.

The dead bird weighed heavy on Hyunjin’s mind. That day, Felix’s dad helped him close down the house and brought Hyunjin home. He played video games with Felix and ate pizza but the image of the twitching bird was imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. When his father picked him up that night, he apologized for leaving him alone. But Hyunjin didn’t know why he apologized—the bird would have died anyway. The bird would have died if his father had been home. The bird would have died if his mother was alive, even. Only, in that case, Hyunjin wouldn’t have been in that house to see it happen. He would still be at the apartment.

“I wish it didn’t die,” Hyunjin said. It was dark already, and the night was cool. Felix’s dad had taken care of the dead bird, but it sat wrong with Hyunjin. He had wanted to bury it, or something. “I hope it never happens again.”

His dad had remained quiet for a while, deep in his thoughts. “Your window is kind of large. When the sun hits it just right, all the birds see is a reflection of the world. We should put something in the window, to make sure they see it’s a window, not the sky.” The next day, they went to the store and they bought stickers for the window. No bird ever hit it again while Hyunjin stayed there.

He never forgot the dead grouse.

to be continued.

author's note: Hi everyone! I'm sorry for starting a new series yet again. I assure you I haven't forgotten the other ones! But this one has been on my mind for so long, longer than many you've already read, and it needed to get out.

I appreciate your support & the reblogs, the wonderful messages I get. Thank you for being patient with me, and thank you for reading my stories. I hope everyone is doing well!

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