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iuwon · 2 years

Text

X ▸ yang jungwon (part i)

▸ DESCRIPTION : what do you get when you have a stupid asshole of a bestfriend (who’s completely head over heels for you, should he add) and a fucked up ego that refuses to admit any form of defeat? you guessed it: the summoning of a jealous ex-boyfriend who dumped you two years ago, and is hell-bent on winning you back.

▸ PAIRING : ex!yang jungwon x female reader (feat. nishimura riki)

▸ GENRE(S) : angst, fluff, slow burn, exes au, college au

▸ WORD COUNT : 28.5k+

▸ WARNING(S) : this is very fast-paced for a slow burn, VERY cringe-y angst and writing (pls spare me it’s my first time😭), fake-dating with riki, JUNGWON REDEMPTION ARC ON PART 2, breakup scenes, indication of hang-ups and love triangles, jealousy, profanities, mentions of a car accident, blood, flashbacks from before and after the breakup, both reader and jungwon have issues :D, this has a second part because the fic is too long, not proofread, kindly let me know if there are any more ^-^

▸ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST : here

▸ UPDATED A/N : hello!! i finished this fic on the start of 2022 and then left it like that when i went on my hiatus, so rereading it nearing the end of 2022 .. i CANNOT take this seriously LMFAOO i was high and i dramatized everything im sawry. But. this is the longest fic i’ve written so far and for that i’m sort of :D i have little to almost zero experience of writing long fics AND angst, so i really hope to any who read this won’t have any high expectations T^T pls lmk your thoughts on this one!

▸ REQUESTED! for my scorpio twin anon :)

SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST LIKE KITES.

Someone had said that once, you remember. They’re the type of people that don’t have their two feet planted anywhere near the ground. They fly, and they keep flying. They have their mind fixated on solely reaching higher and higher up the sky just to blissfully enjoy the breeze.

They continue to fly up once the string is held securely in someone’s hand. The thought never crosses their mind that the person holding the string might ever grow tired, or that the person would only continue to hold on because it’s hard to release the string - because it’s hard to let go.

Sometimes, the kite flies away. Either the wind current was too strong, or maybe it slipped out of your grasp. In the end, the one holding the kite is always the one to blame for carelessly losing them - it’s the person who mourns of the lost kite and suffers the consequences.

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

You were the type that always focused on studies.

A homebody was what you were. To you, school was meant for school. The topic of boys never interested you, and Yang Jungwon wasn’t anywhere never of an exemption.

Yang Jungwon, the notorious musical genius – the charming boy-wonder who lived in his own 4D world. People could say countless of sweet things to describe him, but you would forever see him as a person who was incapable of holding an interest for anyone for longer than his short attention span could hold – much more a romantic one.

You hissed in frustration, “Yang Jungwon, I swear to God, if you will not leave me alone -” your tone doesn’t faze him at all, as expected. He was immune to all your threats and remarks long before. A wide cheeky grin splits open his features before his hand reaches over and snatches your chemistry textbook at the mid-sentence of your threat, peeking over at it, “Chemical bonding?” he reads aloud, titling his head.

And he irritates you further. Your mid-term finals were next week, and you were barely getting any of the subjects done at this rate. You were close to college, and you did not want to have anything, or anyone mess it up.

You glare at him, “I’ve been at the same topic for the past half hour because of you,” trying to reach over your stolen textbook from the boy who never just seemed to leave you alone, his lips tug downwards in a musing pout. He stares at you before his eyes light up in thought.

Without another word, he leaves his chair beside you, not before passing you your book. You immediately grip onto your textbook with relief, skeptical that he’d grab it back away from you again.

Moments pass and you have the time all to yourself to study, but it’s too quiet for you - despite being at a bustling café. You turn your head to both your sides, eyes subconsciously searching for him. You blink, where did he go? Did you manage to kick him out once and for all -?

A whisper from your left ear interrupts your thoughts, and you feel a warm figure lightly pressing against you from behind, “try to sing out the formulas, they’re easier to remember.”

You almost yelp in surprise, jumping away from him. Where the hell did he come from? “Yah, are you crazy -?” you began, but he starts to lightheartedly poke fun. “C’mon, do it. It’ll be easier to remember,” he encourages you, pulling out a guitar from behind. You didn’t even bother to question where he had the time to get his guitar. All you were thinking about were ways to make him leave.

You shot him a look, annoyed. “Do what?”

He was always so childish. So bothersome.

He randomly strums out his guitar strings before picking up a tune, “Sing the formulas out,” his eyes momentarily directed you to the textbook laid out on the table, “I’ll help you with the melody. Go on,” you were ready to throw a harsh retort at him, telling him off to how he was wasting your time and how his idea was stupid - but his eyes; his perfectly shaped eyes looking ever so purely earnest your way.

You hated it.

You weren’t a musical genius or any of that sort, that was all Jungwon. You couldn’t just whip out the best melodic high note nor could you memorize a thousand slide powerpoint discussion even with the help of music. He didn’t have to worry about his grades - hence, his carefree attitude - and he didn’t have to stress over finals week when his career in music was already made out for him. All he ever did around school was tag along and annoy you, try the most obnoxious attempts to ask you out, play his guitar, and listen to music in the earphones he never took off.

You hesitantly look away, if you went along with him - maybe he’d go away once he got what he wanted to do. Little did you know how helpful the technique Jungwon suggested came out - or how fun it actually tuned out to be despite how awful your voice was, he was still looking at you like you were the singing like the angels.

Barely another hour later, you remarkably managed to get it all by heart and cover the topics that couldn’t have been covered in at least three days - with the help of the one person who has been disturbing you from studying in the first place. You could only gawk dumbly at his guitar.

Jungwon could sense your astonishment from miles away, and that made him all the more complacent with the huge beam he was wearing on his face. He wasn’t going to merely let this go. That trademark boyish look of his is back. “For my payment of very helpful service,” he starts as if you had ever asked him in the first place as he pretends to think, humming, “I’ll accept it in forms of you allowing me to take you out,” he suggests gleefully, his eyes sparkling in mischief.

You would normally scoff at his attempt yet again, telling him off - but this time. You couldn’t keep count of the endless tries he’s pulled this trick. This time you helplessly shake your head with a roll of your eyes. You couldn’t keep count of anything anymore, nor were you going to start now.

Yang Jungwon wasn’t going to give up on you.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

TWO YEARS LATER [ JUNGWON’S POV ]

Through the extent of his memory, you never failed to take care of Yang Jungwon.

Not once. No matter how hard you would push him aside and passively act like you didn’t care much about him, you would be there for him; you would always be there. By his side.

And then you were gone.

Jungwon was two years older now.

Checking the items in his shopping bag to see if everything was complete, he leaves the grocery store, rummaging through his purchased items when his body swiftly crashes onto something. He takes a few steps to regain his stance as he stumbles backward.

“Oh, sorry,” someone says, and it takes a moment or two before he snapped out of his daze. He turns instinctively to the direction of the voice as he tries to readjust his grip on his pile of bags.

That voice. He knows that voice.

But for a moment, his breathing halts, body stiffening instantly at the sight of someone he’d never expected to see. Never. Never again. Because this time, it’s you.

You.

You blink, showing mild surprise. And indifference. As if you were looking straight at a stranger. Your eyes pointedly averts itself away from him while you keep the proper formalities and try to start a conversation with your composure, “Uh, hello. How are you?”

To say that he’s caught off guard is too much of an understatement.

You looked different.

You looked good.

No.

You looked beautiful.

Is he dead? No, wait. What? Air gets knocked out of his lungs and he feels like he’s been punched in the gut at the same time.

You looked more beautiful than the image that he had of you for the past years, and it breaks him.

Like nothing has ever pulled you down – as if leaving you only did you good – as if it never happened or affected you by the least.

How could you look so well?

To say that Jungwon looked like a mess was an understatement.

He bit his tongue, cursing for choosing the greatest timing. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, subtly trying to adjust it. What should he do . . . now? How should he start?

How were you? Why didn’t you look for him? Were you doing fine? Did you find someone else? Have you moved on? Should he move on? Did you -

In the short silence, you seemed to be relieved to receive a text message, the ding that gives you an excuse to look away and check your phone. You make a face, feeling suddenly alarmed. Expression rushed, you formally bid him goodbye, and it fucking hurts him even more. “Nice seeing you. I should be on my way now. Have a nice day.”

A strangers’ nice pleasantry. With no sincerity.

But you walk away, leaving him – not bothering to ask him for another meet-up. Jungwon is left standing in the middle of the street, dumbfounded.

Like it ended here.

Is this it?

He wasn’t even able to get to say anything.

This was worse than being nothing to each other.

It was worse than being treated like someone you hated.

He tries to inhale.

Jungwon has no idea, honestly. Not anymore.

One day, he had told himself for years.

One day, he would broadly smile at you. He’d stand proudly confident, and you’d know that he’s gotten over you for good. He’d win and see that he’s no longer suffering. You would see. You would. He’d get over you.

But bumping into you for the first time in years had Jungwon rethinking if he’s ever gotten over your eyes in the first place.

PRESENT

You can sulk for a little, throw a tantrum - but a kite is a kite. There’s no chance of it coming back; once you let go, it doesn’t look back at you to pause and run back to your hold. There was only one thing you could do from thereon: you could always forget about it, toss it aside like a child does, and replace it with a new one; making sure it’s a much better kind.

That. That was something you reminded yourself time and time again for the past two years. Though the line was taken from a measly television show that you’ve watched long ago, it’s been the only line of string that kept you from looking back - like a mother telling her child to stop crying over a lost kite.

But, right then and there, it was like time itself pauses for you when you stand in the same café four years ago, hearing the all-familiar voice that you could never forget. There, when you feel your heart beating out of your control and dropping dead. There, where you’re not sure of the extent of what you could restrain yourself from doing.

You don’t know how you’re suddenly transported to the direction of the soft voice - it’s familiarity greeting you, and for a brief second, the memories you’ve burned long ago painfully flash back to mind - you almost flinch.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ train wreck by james arthur ]

“I don’t wanna lose this, but I’m not getting through this. Hey, should I pray? Should I pray? Yeah,” Yang Jungwon.

It’s him.

Him, with his stupidly beautiful voice and his damn entrancing presence dragging you back harder than you remembered, and the pain he’s trying to immerse himself in as he ignores his physical surroundings.

And you.

You, as you’re trying to fight away the haunting flash of memories that are slowly starting to accompany you, and you, as you could do nothing but fleetingly watch him.

This was the second time you’ve bumped into him. You snorted, why was he always everywhere you went?

And it was like after the years of methodically stitching yourself back together, you’re transported back to the same person you were two years ago.

A fool.

“To myself? To a God? To a savior who can …”

You admit, there were days where you forgot his face - or in other words, days where you refused to acknowledge how he used to look at you. Days where it was too painful to even think about.

You swear to yourself that those days are long over.

Standing across the end of the room after three years of absolutely nothing from him felt suffocating, as if there was no air to breathe. You didn’t realize you were holding in a short breath, and when you exhaled - you felt pinning, and needles, and knives stabbed deep into your lungs.

“Unbreak the broken, unsay these spoken words. Find hope in the hopeless - pull me out of the train wreck,”

When Jungwon’s eyes slowly open, the first thing he sees is you.

Both your eyes meet, and he freezes. All too slowly. Everything in motion. You notice how his eyes widen, and how the old memories flash in his eyes all the same.

PainMiseryHurtDisbeliefHope-

The regret.

All this happens in front of you. A dream. A nightmare. All at once. Your face remains passive and unaffected, hard - nonchalant with ease, refusing to feel bothered. Time seems slow, but you don’t hesitate to casually walk away, being the first to break eye-contact. You didn’t want to spend another second in that room.

Your grip on the drink in hand tightens in its own accord.

You’ve moved on.

But what was this sort of feeling enveloping you in?

A teasing wolf-whistle startles you on your way out of the café, ripping you out of the lethargic trance you were warped into. “Was that an ex I saw over there?” You find Nishimura Riki with his shit-eating face and his waggling of eyebrows up beside you. Grimacing at his face, you harshly nudge your elbow to his sides in annoyance.

Breathing is a little bit easier with him around.

But you still feel like vomiting. “Is shutting up not part of how your brain is wired?” you roll your eyes, showing no effort at all to hide your agitation. He lets out an amused laugh, his playful gaze only duplicating itself as he proceeds to brutally tease you.

Riki isn’t an asshole. Not really. He’s what you’d call your best friend … without much other choice. Though he can perfectly embody one, he knows his limits (though you may sometimes find yourself doubting it) and the extents to where he can joke around. He can be all sorts annoying and a douche whenever food is on the line, but he’s the only one who’s stuck with you since day one of what happened two years ago - and never bothered to pressure you into questions that tormented you even further.

You lost contact with the friends you had once shared along with Jungwon. It felt embarrassing and uncomfortable to hang around them with everyone aware of what happened, until it was long months later that it just didn’t seem right to suddenly start hanging around them again after your efforts vigorously avoiding them.

You’ve lost a lot.

And you just met the man behind it all.

Nishimura Riki was sort of all you had, and he knew that too. He figured everything that happened eventually through time, by himself. Picking up the little things wasn’t too difficult to do, neither was piecing everything together with a little help and slow nudge from you over the years.

“He’s moving in this building, you know,” he looks over to your side.

Your stomach lurches, freezing in place. Your jaw nearly drops to the floor, gaping at him like your eyes would bulge out any second.

Over your fucking dead body.

That building was precisely the building you lived in. “What?” you nearly yell, causing passersby walking along the sidewalks to throw the both of you looks.

He rolls his eyes, “Geez, princess, clam down. I was kidding,” he bumps his shoulder next to yours, as if he was trying to shake you up. He starts going over about how you were showing ‘hang-ups’ symptoms before you start barking a mouthful of threatening-nothings to have him shut his mouth, running after him.

Something rings different, however.

Yang Jungwon.

The name lingers in the back of your head, no matter how hard you try to push it away. It’s been three years, but when the kite you’ve lost years ago - the kite you swore you’ve already forgotten about - comes back, what then?

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

You weren’t necessarily the warmest type of person.

Blank faces, blunt responses, and sharp glares were all people received from you. You got others avoiding you in return, it was a give and take situation that benefited perfectly on both sides – perhaps more on your side. It worked as a repellent to kept everyone off your radar. And you liked that. You enjoyed being left alone. You found peace in your own solitude, away from other people. You were never exactly fond of people, either way.

Yang Jungwon was certainly a different breed.

Maybe it was the challenge that he liked, at first. You; the unwavering and ‘unbeatable’ challenge that provoked him – enticed him. That kept him coming. You were a brick wall, and he was someone who had the world at the palm of his hand.

But you don’t know how his intentions changed along the way.

You don’t know what made him change his mind – or what part of you that he saw that made him choose to do so, but it wasn’t of any use to figure out how.

Because he wanted you, now.

And he would ever-so-bluntly admit that.

All your efforts of shrugging him off made him fight harder for you. It was useless. The more you would curse at him with the harshest words just made him want to tag along by your side even more with that boyish grin never leaving his face.

He was a weird one.

“You know, you’re not as mean as how the people label you as.”

“And you’re more annoying than they claim you to be,” you don’t crack an amused smile. Jungwon wonders if he’s ever seen you smile – or even wear anything else of an expression that didn’t look bored, annoyed, angry, or enraged. He takes a moment to visualize how beautiful you would look when you smile and decides that he’ll do anything to see that happen. Just like that.

“You keep tossing me away,” he defended himself, the corner of his lips tugging downwards in the smallest pout.

“You keep coming back,” you retorted back, eyes shooting daggers.

By the look of his face, you realize your response wasn’t the best. “I’ll keep coming back to you,” he finishes. A lopsided grin. His brain was wired differently.

You didn’t hold back your prolonged suffering exhale.

It was a careless remark.

Such a recklessly made promise.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

[ JUNGWON’S POV ]

No one loves you like Yang Jungwon.

Whenever you’re blabbering about something with the biggest smile on your face, every time at that exact moment Jungwon knows that no one can ever be as fucking in love you like a dumb plain sheet of white paper like he can. Nor can they get to know you - or the 2 am you. They wouldn’t get to know how beautiful you look with the one side-lamp illuminating a side of your face - and the little things that come along with it, it’s only him.

It’s only him.

But when he stares into your eyes, he knows it all too. No one is as bad for you as Jungwon is either, he believes, and it fucking destroys him as he holds onto you tighter, his hands slightly trembling. He can’t lose you, he doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t know the person he’ll become if he ever does. He doesn’t know if he’ll even make a day after it.

Why didn’t he think that there would ever be an end to a sweet dream?

Yang Jungwon is your first, but someone else is going to be your last.

Someone else that wasn’t him.

He muffles the sound of the soft cries that escape him as you peacefully sleep next to him in his tight hold, unaware of what’s to come.

He’s everything that he promised you he would never be.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

THE NEXT WEEK

Riki must’ve placed some sort of curse on you for this to happen.

You could vividly imagine his shit-eating face with his loud laughter already.

Whatever witchcraft or shitty attempt of ‘fate’ this was, Nishimura Riki was going to be the cause of your death. Though this has barely anything to do with him, you can’t think of anyone else that brings that much bad luck to you. You’re seriously starting to think the world is unreservedly just fucking with you for entertainment.

Just when you thought you were never going to see him again.

Yang Jungwon stands at the front of the classroom, leaning on one foot with a backpack slung over his one shoulder. You almost facepalm, this was some Egyptian curse that was going to follow and haunt you, wasn’t it? Perhaps the ghost haunting you was in the form of your ex-boyfriend.

Of course, the new student had to just be him.

You never thought you would ever see him again. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice you and sits the farthest from your area. You keep your head focused on the individual work assigned to the class. If this whole thing could keep up, you could probably spend the next semester without him knowing you’re in the same class, then, you could hopefully change classes by the next - it wouldn’t be so bad. You didn’t have to acknowledge him.

That is, until the Professor starts assigning him roles and tasks. “There are the modules for you to read, and then around four individual minor projects to keep up with. The fifth individual project, however, majorly affects your grade,” he pauses, lightly smacking his lips as he scans his student list.

He flips through papers as he continues, “since you’ve missed most of the term, I’ll be pairing you up with Lim Seoyeon,” he drags the last word, scurrying through his papers to find another name, “and Y/L/N Y/N. Both are only lacking their thesis papers, while the others are still lacking to submit three projects, so it would be most convenient for her compared to the rest.”

Your stomach churns, feeling sick. Physically cringing, you felt like creating an uproar. Wherever Yang Jungwon goes, trouble always follows; this simply could not be happening to you. Lord, it was the least convenient to you.

This world couldn’t hate you this much.

You wanted to curse any of the gods above you placed you in this shithole, being beyond frustrated and unwilling. Anyone but him. You could only mournfully regret passing all your projects in advance, it was ironic. You get yourself into fucked up situations for being a good student? What is this university?

The Professor doesn’t clarify anything with you - nor does he justify the situation and the injustice, but only throws a nod in acknowledgement in your direction before he waves at Jungwon in dismissal - excusing himself from the classroom.

Your eyes could almost bulge out.

What was happening . . . ?

Jungwon’s eyes sweep over the room before he finds you, but you note how he doesn’t look the least surprised to see you. He stares, trying to discern your expression, but you once again break eye contact within a second.

You were in hell.

You had no option to stalk up to the teacher’s desk to bargain when the professor wasn’t there in the first place. You were fucking stuck with him. You felt the burning flames when he got up to make his way to you, and as he stood right in front of you. Choking to death because of a meatball in live television seemed like a much peaceful idea that kept most of your remaining dignity.

Maybe if you kept your head buried with studies, he would go away.

“Y/N,” a voice acknowledges you.

Fuck, you could remember that voice anywhere.

“It’s nice to see you.” Yang Jungwon.

You made a noise in response.

The feeling was not reciprocated.

You hate the way he sounds.

Like he wasn’t the same person three years ago.

You forcefully nod curtly at him, and you’re drowning.

Suddenly, we are strangers again. An unwanted stranger. There was no other option rather than tolerating him until it was all fine. You could do this. You didn’t want to, but you had to, otherwise you’d be at the polar end of the classroom by now if you had the choice.

But you chose to ignore him: Ignore the fact that he sat right next to you in close proximity, ignore the fact that you could smell his cologne - the familiarity of it and how it smelled like home, and ignored him like he never existed when he tried asking questions. In your defense, either they were a waste of time to answer, or they could easily be found in the textbook.

“Hi, I was wondering if –” Ignore it.

“Do you know where the questions for –?” Ignore it.

“Don’t you think this project is pretty difficult –?” Ignore it.

And you turned a blind eye to the fact that you disregarded him because you didn’t know if you could control yourself.

Seoyeon was a lifesaver, managing to keep you sane as she voluntarily chose to step in to help Jungwon out after hearing all his questions directed to you left unanswered. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you were forced alone with him. She reads the room but doesn’t question anything.

You tell yourself it was anger that made yourself this way.

Blind consuming anger.

You hate how Jungwon could still manage read you after all this time.

A quiet and gentle question, “Y/N, are you mad at me?”

You barely react, but your eyes squint on their own. You weren’t going to lie nor deny it, you do really wish he hadn’t chosen to interact with you. Staring blankly at your laptop screen, you don’t move. A hushed voice - a subconscious that you swore you lost long ago - in the back of your head whispers an answer before you force yourself to shove it down. You almost scoffed; are you mad at him? What kind of a dumb question is that?

He was nothing but an ass, he hadn’t changed.

“No, why would I be?” You answer brusquely, your tone signifying that you were keeping a distance from him without having to say it.

You hope the cue was taken.

There was no need to keep the friendliness with him – you weren’t obligated to. Formalities were all there was left. At least you would treat him with the respect that you were scraping your skin out for, right? Whatever you had with him - it was over. It was long gone.

You refused to be controlled under the palm of his hand ever again.

You swiftly pack your belongings and left him without a work or glance to spare his way the second you hear the bell signal the end of the period right on time. You don’t even bid your classmate, Seoyeon, goodbye. You’d apologize to her later and explain things to her, hoping she’d understand and lend a helping hand.

It’s been two years and the minute he shows up, you find yourself crumbling and unable to control yourself, and that frustrates you. You’re slipping.

Being around him was a waste of energy.

You remind yourself that you feel nothing.

He was a stranger to you now.

Once again, you walked away from him, gripping the strap of your backpack tightly in sheer annoyance and vexation. Mind racing, you try to find a reason; why was Yang Jungwon in your major and university and what in the heavens above does he want from you?

LATER

Riki roars in laughter, his hand slapping his knee as he nearly falls off the chair. You were almost tempted to push him off.

“You think it can’t get any funnier than that, but it does!” he pretends to wipe away a fake tear, “you ignored him all the way through!” he bursts into fits laughter once again.

“Poor guy, getting the silent treatment from someone like Y/N on your first day at college is depressing,” he empathizes, though it doesn’t sound by any means sincere. Nothing about Nishimura Riki is sincere. “At least I’m not the only one Y/N treats like shit!” he notes positively with a beam on his face, but you’re not sure if that’s anything that’s supposed to be of positive news.

You whack the back of his head, and he whines. “When have I ever treated you like shit, you dumbass?”

“I’m taking this as a form of harassment,” he grumbles.

You stick your tongue out at him mischievously, “Oh, boo-hoo, you big baby, ‘s not like you don’t bully the hell out of me,” you roll your eyes, “and help out and do something about Jungwon, will you?” you ask him for a favor, your tone indicating exhaustion.

He furrows his eyebrows at you, “What’d you want me to do - bury his body? Doll, I barely even know the guy.”

You swing your arms - shooing something nonexistent away for gesturing, “Just keep him away! I don’t know, do one of those stupid ideas that you always come up with. I can’t stand seeing his face,” you complain, almost childishly stomping your feet in outrage. This was unlike you.

He lowly whistles, “I was really hoping for some real kind of exes-to-lovers type of k-drama lead coming to life,” he comments, and you muster the biggest disgusted glare at him. He only shrugs his shoulders with a mere ‘hey-what-can-you-do?’.

“However, there’s a …” he trails off, lighting up like a lightbulb with an idea in mind already.

You raise a brow, “A what?”

He looks at you with a grin, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows, “We can fake-date.”

You were dumb to ask him for ideas. You groan. “Not again.”

“C’mon,” he probes you, tugging at your arm. Was he really that bored with his life to want to fake-date you?

You blankly stare at him, deadpanned. “You get dumber and dumber the more I talk to you,” you don’t hold back from telling him, receiving a dirty scowl thrown at you, “I’m serious! Isn’t that what people do whenever one of their exes show up?”

Squinting at him, you ask, “Just how many fanfics have you been reading?”

He crosses his arms, “Make fun of me all you want, but we both know that those ideas never fail,” he huffs, “you wanted him gone, didn’t you?” he tries to resonate, “Everyone thinks we’re already a thing anyway, it won’t be too hard, or would it be much of a trouble if we just went on with it. We’re basically pros at this dating thing, aren’t we?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Yes, and getting back at him would feel rightfully good as hell and all but,” you sigh in exasperation, hating to be the one to ruin the fun, “doing that would mess everything up even more, I’m sure. We’d be the ones ending up as the dumb fools in the situation. Did you already forget the time we fake dated to get that girl obsessed over you off your back? And how it backfired on us?” you stated, and Riki’s thoughtful silence justified your stance.

You’d rather die the most undignified death than have Yang Jungwon win the second time around, and that was not happening under Nishimura Riki’s watch.

“If I could just turn into a wizard or anything like that and ‘magic’ him away,” you plopped an arm up on the desk, resting the side of your cheek at the palm of your hand, “probably turn him into a damn ugly and useless broomstick while at it, too.”

Riki lets out a humorous short laugh at the sight of you, “Cheer up, princess,” he slings an arm around your shoulder, poking your cheek, “I’ll help you too, and I’ll beat him up whenever he tries to go near you; hot sexy Nishimura Riki cares about your cute dumbass,” You bump your hip playfully toward his. I’m not leaving you alone, is what he was trying to say.

He’d excuse it as simply returning the favor that he asked from you. The time when the both of you fake-dated, and it backfired – forcing you to reach extreme measures that went on for months.

Right, you had Riki. And he wasn’t going to just ditch you, not like him. He’s stayed firmly next to you for the past two years through all the shit you put him though (and all the shit he put you through). Riki may have been a rascal, but he was nothing compared to how shitty Yang Jungwon was.

You simply just had to keep going and help Jungwon out in certain parts while interacting the least you could and ignore him (or preferably call Riki to tell him off, he’d love to finally be given the chance to annoy the shit out of someone) whenever he tries anything funny. As soon as it was over, you’d do your stay out of his way and pretend like nothing happened. After all, he was the one who left. If anyone was trying to run away, it’d be him.

Everything was going to be fine. You didn’t care.

It was no big deal; no extensive measures were needed.

A sharp inhale.

You didn’t know if you were lying or if you were telling the truth.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ yellow by coldplay ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

Jungwon liked to follow you around.

He also liked dragging you along with him with whatever excuse he could come up with. You never could really decipher what that oddball was thinking, just when you thought you caught up to him, he surprises you with something new every day.

Lee Heeseung, your senior, was discussing that week’s event that the school was holding with you when Jungwon swoops in and drags you away without second thought, “Sorry, hyung! Gotta borrow her today ~” he throws a grin, and Heeseung could only roll his eyes, staring in playful disbelief after the both of you, “ya, that’s what you said the last three times too!”

Jungwon gives the kind of pleading look you know Heeseung couldn’t resist, “I swear I’ll pay you back with free lunch, hyung!” he yells back. You were used to being dragged away or trailed around by him; it wasn’t anything of the ordinary. He winks at you.

No matter how hard you would try to avoid him or threaten him, he was always looking at you with the most mischievous silly and crazy ideas in mind.

On the other hand, he didn’t really enjoy the idea of you hanging out with other guys.

Could you call him delusional? You really wanted to.

And then there was this other instance, where Jungwon had sulked behind you the whole period, making noises that surely irritated you whilst you interviewed Park Jay for a class paper, who was a part of the varsity team. It forced you to spend the entire day with him for the interview, which Jungwon did not seem to like. It came to the point where you had to embarrassedly excuse yourself from the number of huffs and noises he was making. Jay was left giving confused looks, completely distracted from the whole topic that the whole interview was pointless no matter how hard her tried to ignore Jungwon.

“What is your deal?” You hissed at Jungwon in annoyance as soon as you scurried away from the varsity team, “you completely embarrassed me over there, you rascal!” He doesn’t hear you. He seemed deep in thought, as if he was battling with himself. Jungwon faced you with the biggest frown - looking more distraught than ever, “You don’t like him, right?”

Your mouth slightly hangs open, thrown off-guard. What?

“He isn’t your type, isn’t he? He doesn’t look like it. You’d never go for a guy like him.” He looked ridiculous – and it wasn’t much of a shock to you. An idiot and a loser. You figured it’d only be a matter of time before he completely lost his mind. It was as if he was talking to himself. You lightly whacked his arm, trying to get some sense into him and snap him out, “What are you talking about, you rascal?”

He bores his eyes onto yours, “Whatever. I won’t let you, anyway. I’ll stay by your side you ‘till the day I die if I have to.” His eyes were set with firm determination, yet you didn’t bother pressing on - being sure he was up to no good, as usual.

He was speaking, but you couldn’t piece together what he was trying to imply. You didn’t really care either, he was a weird guy. Still, you were frustrated at him for just having to mess everything up for you again, “I can’t believe you,” you muttered incredulously, turning your heel to start walking away from him – you were done with this boy.

“Hey – angel, no, wait. Where are you going –?”

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

Admittedly, you didn’t hate Yang Jungwon as much when you had first met him, but the dislike started to grow at a profound rate when he started acting as a nuisance the more occasions he stuck around.

You weren’t exaggerating. Jungwon was just the epitome of overbearingly unable to understand social boundaries and your extreme dislike of having him in a 2-mile radius near you.

And you had your dignity, but Jungwon was an entirely different topic. Hiding from him in the gymnasium lockers was your last resort.

“Gotcha,” a cheery voice slides in beside you out of nowhere. Your heart almost jumped out of your body in fright, did he always have to jump-scare you out of nowhere?

“Seriously –?!”

“Stop playing hide and seek with me, angel. I’d love to play this game some other time with you but not now! We have somewhere else to go!” He has got to be shallow. Or dumb. Really dumb. You don’t know. As much as he loved blabbering endless nonsense around you that never seemed to make sense and was barely capable of leaving your side, you barely knew anything of him.

You glowered at him, “I’m not playing hide and seek with you, you rascal! I’m obviously avoiding you –!”

He pats the top of your head before gently grabbing your hand, interrupting your nth effort to knock some sense into him. “Let’s go! It’s my turn for a Y/N day.” he points forward, leaving the library baggage hall that he found you hiding in. A Y/N day? What were you to him, an item? You groan, sounding sorrow. You really thought you got away from him this time. “Yah, we’re going to miss class!”

You didn’t even know why you bothered.

Jungwon tilts his head, giving you a look as if to tell you to not worry, “We’re going to the river today, anyway. I brought my boombox with me,” he proudly tells you, and you aggravatedly sigh, feeling defeated. You swore you made all the measures needed to carefully avoid him, thinking you were finally left alone.

“Why do you always bring me along?” you deadpan, trying to wriggle free from his grasp. He was probably going to insert another flirtatious line or something among those actions. Why don’t you ever leave me alone?

You never really got it. Any of his interests, in fact. Why was he so determined to pursue you? There were countless of girls who were more of a ‘challenge’, and they were all the more interesting than you, with no doubt. What did he see in you? “Don’t you have any other friends?” you pulled a face at him. Jungwon has been by your side for such a long time that you grew accustomed to his presence, still, you weren’t going to admit that.

“I don’t want to hang out with them, I want to go with you,” he simply explains, as if it was the most obvious answer.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, irritated, yet curious as you stress, “Why?”

He pauses, still looking ahead as he guides you forward, “Being around you makes me happy.” You simply glance at him and the look he has makes you shiver.

Jungwon was always straightforward. There was not an ounce of shame in that man’s soul. He said what was on his mind without any filter, and he also had a peculiar way of thinking, which in terms, you guess, made him intelligent.

A beat passes, and you don’t find a retort to throw back at him.

Jungwon was like this beaming sunshine and busted in the dark hell you drowned yourself in.

Even if you enjoyed the darkness.

He always knew where to find you.

He found you.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

Every year.

Every moment.

Jungwon was always there.

Yang Jungwon always knew where to find you, it was like his sixth sense. He could spot any of your bullshit or anything that you were hiding from him in a mile radius. There was no bother in hiding from him. He would always pop up by your side with a lopsided smile, carrying his guitar around and whining to you because he wanted to do something fun.

He was a bothersome child.

He was there in the times you didn’t want to see him, and he was there in the times where you needed someone but there was no one to turn to. It was as if you could summon him, you would always retort.

Making up excuses was his specialty, he always seemed to disregard everything to tag along with you. He made crazily creative alibies that never seemed to run out just in order to be able to stay by your side.

Until one day he stopped.

Until one day he ran out of reasons.

So, where was he and what was he doing two years ago when he left you the moment you needed only him the most?

One day, you woke up and he was gone. You haven’t heard from him since. Not a trace left. Not a ghost left to haunt you. And somehow, that haunted you even more.

Where did you go?

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

You liked the pastries that Jungwon used to make for you.

You remember that he made them for you a lot. Whenever you did a job well done on a simple test or if you overworked yourself, you always found a box of your favorite flavors on your desk or locker the following day. You didn’t have to question who it was from; he didn’t have to say anything.

You weren’t accustomed to having that kind of treatment. A simple job done is merely a simple job done. There hasn’t been much of a pat on a back or a congratulatory party for the little achievements, and that was completely fine you. However, that wasn’t the case for Jungwon.

Puzzled, you held up the mysterious box, “What is this?”

“Sweets. Try them and tell me if you like them or not,” you could tell that he was anxious in anticipation. You try and hand it back over to him, “Oh, I’m not really in the mood for sweets, you can go ahead and give them to Minju though, she loves -”

“I didn’t make them for Minju,” he stands in front of you, sort of dejected and earnest. That was a new look on him. His face seemingly somewhat deflated, and somewhat embarrassed. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, refusing to meet your gaze as he shakes his head and changes his mind, trying to reach over the box to save his dignity in the situation.

Your eyes slightly widen, processing, “Wait,” you withdraw your extended arm, looking back at the box, pointing to it, “you made this?”

“It’s not really any -” Jungwon starts, reaching out for the box for him to take back but you swat his arm away.

“You should’ve said so, dumbass! I love things homemade,” you explain lightheartedly, your eyes glittering once you open the box to reveal damn beautifully decorated chocolates. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape from the blow, almost gasping.

He did that?

“You don’t have to act all that, you know,” Jungwon adds, and when you spare him a glace, you realize he’s being serious.

You roll your eyes at him, ready to punch his arm. Acting? He wishes! Was he just wanting more compliments from you, or did he really believe that his baking didn’t look like the prettiest things ever? They looked too beautiful to eat but you didn’t know if you could manage to restrain yourself from eating something that looked so delicious. “Shut up, look at that! Are you, like, a world-renowned baker or something?”

As soon as nearly half of the box was eaten by you, you mentally felt something hit you, like a pang. Though you couldn’t exactly discern what. You felt something, a lurch of it. A swell of happiness, a swell of being seen, a swell of not being alone, not anymore. “Jungwon?” you looked at him.

He leaned his weight against the wall in the front of you, taking one of his earpieces off, “Mm.”

“Thanks,” It was casual, but you meant it. You really did. He could read it from your eyes. He probably spent a lot of time making these, you thought. Then you realize that’s all he ever did to you; spend his time on you.

He’s sincere. A troublesome rascal, definitely. But sincere. It’s funny how it took him to just make some homemade sweets for you to see and realize, “you’re not that bad.”

You don’t know if you left him speechless, but you walk down the hallway with him staring after you. Words left unspoken.

Something new had changed then.

You didn’t know what to call it.

But it felt good.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ meet me at our spot by the anxiety ]

THE NEXT MORNING

[8:04 am] unknown number: hi good morning

[8:04 am] unknown number: it’s jungwon :)

[8:05 am] unknown number: i just wanted to wish u a good day

[8:06 am] unknown number: i’m really proud of u

Four text messages to ruin the start of your day.

And in addition, there it was: the exact familiar box of pastries on the desk you were at yesterday that morning.

You nearly got yourself nauseous at the sight.

Were you dreaming?

Blinking it off, you snap out of it. You scoff, Jungwon was more shameless and a lot bolder than you thought. What was the box supposed to signify? ‘I’m proud of you’?, ‘I’m sorry’?, or an ‘I miss you’? Either way, you never knew Yang Jungwon could ever stoop so low.

Two years and the first thing he does is give you a box of sweets, was he thinking it’d pay back all the shit he pulled? Bribe you with sweets and suddenly everything would be okay?

Your resentment for him grew even more.

Anger was a better feeling to experience other than any of the other emotions.

At the side of your eye, you could see Jungwon. You pretend not to, and you try so hard. You don’t miss the glances he throws you, he was probably waiting for your response.

Surely, he should expect from you that the response was going to be nothing good. Does he know you at all?

Throwing it away seemed over the top, but you didn’t know what the rest of your options were. You hesitate, eating it would only make him believe that everything’s okay. And in case Jungwon didn’t get the memo: everything is not okay.

This won’t hurt you.

You toss the box to someone else; your hands slightly freeze on its own for a moment when you realize Jungwon was watching. Only for a moment.

You weren’t taking his bait.

You didn’t want it.

You don’t look at him, and you don’t bother to see his reaction. Biting down your tongue, you jabbed your pen down the desk forcefully - you ignore the sense of guilt. He asked for it.

It takes a bit more effort to remain nonchalant this time.

Jungwon was getting in your nerves. Again.

LATER

You were dragged into a library group filled with people you barely knew of by Ningning and Seoyeon. You recognized Jake Sim from chemistry class, and a few others that you weren’t entirely confident you knew the name of. Jungwon was there. Of course, he had to be.

Though you were an expert at turning invitations and confessions down, you really weren’t much of the action type. Some would call you the ‘all bark, no bite’ type, but that was mostly because people who ensued and pressed on having it their way was just stubborn.

Most of your life, people went along your bark, it was rare that anyone went against it – but not impossible. Yang Jungwon.

The name flashes by your mind involuntarily as if it was a burn.

As if your mind works on its own, you find yourself staring at him – he paid no interest in the conversation as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone, bored. The only word he had ever said was when he had assertively stated that he wanted the seat that was close to yours. He had also joined the conversation and firmly voted against Jake sitting next to you. What a problem boy.

[02:44 pm] yang jungwon: u look good today

You were bored, but definitely not bored enough to be willing to immerse yourself into that mess.

You were entirely out of the group’s topic of conversation yourself, immersing yourself all in your head and thoughts until a girl named Naeun – you think – waggles her brows at you. “What about you, ms. ‘most-popular-with-guys’?”

“How many of them did you turn down this week?” Lee adds into it lightheartedly, poking fun.

Jungwon’s attention is immediately averted to you – and you hate that you can feel his gaze boring into your face.

You feel more uncomfortable than ever, trying to argue with them, “What? That’s not true—!”

Ningning’s eyes glint in mischievousness, taking in your denial as something you were embarrassed about as she joins into the conversation. But it wasn’t, not entirely.

You were highly uncomfortable. “Don’t deny it. You’re more than just ‘popular’ with guys. I swear I saw with my own eyes at least two guys try and hit you up on this exact library alone from the past few days.”

You could hear chortled laughter from around you.

You know none of the voices belonged to or were from Jungwon.

You’d rather suffocate.

“I heard you were pretty popular with the guys during your high school years too!” Seoyeon chirped. You felt nauseated. Where did they even hear that information? You incredulously retorted to yourself.

“D’you date any of them?” Lun from literature class pipes in, interested. You feel your face turn hot against your will. “Any hotties you can introduce me to?” someone adds into it suggestively, clearly enjoying the topic of discussion.

Your face starts to sour, reeking of irritation.

“Ooh! I remember hearing Y/N dated a guy during high school. That’s probably why she wasn’t able to date much?” Ningning suggests, and you wanted to kick her out of the room. Was anyone just not able to pick out on social cues? Was everyone not able to notice how uncomfortable you looked?

Seoyeon’s eyes enlarged in alarm, “Y/N dated before?” Despite the distressing situation, you almost slipped out a laugh, you were always known for your strong dislike towards romance and men and you liked it that way. You guess the impression still hasn’t changed.

He’s in the exact same room right now, you wanted to spit out. Your face hardens, but you don’t say anything.

“What’s the big deal? We were barely anything anyway.”

Ningning does not get your clue, instead, she looks more confused than ever. “Huh? From what I heard; you both were pretty serious.”

“You never told me anything about him,” Seoyeon complains, grabbing your arm and repeatedly swinging it around. With everyone’s attention on you, your usual ‘i-hate-everyone’ façade falls into dust.

You snort, keeping your tone casual, “About what? He was barely anyone special, in the first place.”

A bunch of unanimous curious ‘oohs’ were heard around the room. “Oohlala, spill. What made the relationship end?”

You take a thoughtful pause, as if it was the first time you were giving it thought, “He was selfish.” A shrug.

You ensure that the whole table hears your answer, especially him. Ningning scrunches her nose in distaste at your answer, “Ugh, typical. Boys really aren’t shit.”

“You’d give your entire world to them, and they decide that it’s not enough. Discontented assholes.” Lee comments with a bunch of insults thrown away without regard, and the Seoyeon pretends to vomit at the mention of boys. “Dirtbags. His loss,” is all she says.

You really don’t have any idea of what to do in this situation.

A strangled noise escapes Jungwon, and he covers it up with loud coughs. He looked like he’s just been badly burned, and you try to casually shift in your seat. The rest of the group takes it as a cue to ask him the same question as well, figuring he wanted to be included.

“And what about you, newbie?” Jake notices, an effort to try to get Jungwon to feel included. “Ever dated before?”

He stares blankly in response. A glance your way, and it takes a fraction of a second for you to avert your eyes away. You hope no one caught that. A moment. Or two. Until, “No, never.” Casually, with a helpless shrug before his attention was back on his phone. He doesn’t even regard that you were ever a part of his past.

Your insides clenches on their own.

That was it. The signal. You were back to being notoriously known for your cold behavior, good grades, and popular game with men, while Jungwon was back into his reputation of being a cute and care-free affectionate and loveable brat that would never do anyone wrong.

Everything was back the way it started.

Rewind. A start over. Where Jungwon doesn’t get to see the nurturing, caring, childish, and mischievous side of you, and where you never got to see the depth to him: his coolness and his silence. The eyebrow lifts, his head-pats, his reliability, his loyalty, his promises, his stories, his determination – everything about him that everyone missed, that was simply nothing now.

We’ll never be those kids again.

Your phone buzzes.

[02:52 pm] yang jungwon: i figured u didn’t want them to know.

[02:54pm] yang jungwon: are you mad?

Both your eyes meet in the midst of the others bickering with each other.

All the remnants of history erased.

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

[ JUNGWON'S POV: 1 YEAR AGO ]

“I’ve been looking for you all night!” she skips, twirling in front of him, “What d’you think? I figured you might like this outfit.” She had an annoying voice, and was definitely way too clingy. Black long hair or something, honestly, any of the faces he’s seen were all only just blank and empty to him.

Jungwon doesn’t even regard her existence.

“C’mon ~” The girl drags, tugging at his arm. He doesn’t even know her name. He’s probably crossed by her more than a couple times with the way she was acting.

She was annoying. Not like you at all. No one was like you.

Jungwon was already in a sour mood. “You’ve been stuck at the couch all night, you lame-dummy!” She points a dragging finger to his chest, “No one wants to be a lame-dummy, c’mon, come with me! It’ll be fun,” she tries to persuade in a sing-song voice, inviting him in.

It doesn’t shake him by the least.

He shakes his head, shortly emitting a single scoff in irritation as he jerks away the hand on his shoulder. His tense facial features say everything. Without saying another word, he chooses to leave the room quietly and awkwardly without bidding goodbye to the other friends who invited him.

These parties were useless. Everything was useless. Every day was too boring and empty without meaning.

He had no place here.

This wasn’t where he belonged.

He damn well still belonged to that person he always has belonged to.

You.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

[09:12 pm] yang jungwon: hello bo ;]

[09:12 pm] yang jungwon: i hope u had a good day :)

[09:17 pm] yang jungwon: i’m always here if u need me

[09:17 pm] yang jungwon: just so you know

[09:17 pm] yang jungwon: i’ll always be there

[09:20 pm] yang jungwon: and i hope i crossed your mind at least once..

read

A FEW DAYS LATER

You were beyond thankful to have Seoyeon around him to save yourself the awkward interactions.

She was the icebreaker. The only factor that allowed you to act as if Jungwon wasn’t there in the first place and ignore his existence. Given that she was an icebreaker, she was also clueless.

She had no idea of the hatred you had for him - or the reluctance to look his way, much more interact with him. It wasn’t her fault, but you wish you rather didn’t have to explain the situation to her as the only option for her to stop trying to get you and Jungwon to talk.

“Wasn’t yesterday fun? It was nice having new people around,” she brings up as a conversation starter. Jungwon was minding his business working on his project on the side, the both of you had your free time. You politely smile at her, and you know it looks genuine. Explaining things to her wasn’t ideal – you shudder that the possibilities that would happen once you’d confess the situation.

Maybe Jungwon was a private secret of your past that you were never meant to bring up to those in your present.

“That reminds me, who’s the group you hang out with? We really should hang out more.” She slightly frowns before adding, “You’re really fun!”

“You too,” you add with a half grin, and you genuinely mean it. You kindly nod in agreement with a laugh, desperate to end the topic – but Seoyeon doesn’t cease her intent of giving up her first question.

She smiles at you expectantly as she awaits for an answer, and though you know she’s really just trying to make friends, if awkward topics were all that she was going to be bringing up around you, you would rather not converse with her at all. “Oh uh, that question,” you forced a laugh that comes out awkward, “no one else, really.”

Her lips form a small ‘o’ shape, apologizing for intruding. She softly gasps, alarmed, “Really? To be honest, I think it’s because everyone’s intimidated of you. It was until a few seconds ago that the whole campus figured you had countless of friend groups. Me included.”

You furiously shake your head at her, making a dreadful face in which she giggles at, “Oh God, no.” you comment, “it’s really just me,” you pause, “and Riki of course. Riki. Me and Riki. No one else. Kind of a loner,” you coughed out an awkward ramble, but Seoyeon never even seemed to mind.

“That’s cool, neither way! I get to have you to myself,” she teases lightheartedly as she links her arm around yours.

You were too flustered to notice that Jungwon had heard everything.

THAT EVENING

[10:21 pm] yang jungwon: hi love

[10:22 pm] yang jungwon: you must be tired i hope u rest up tonight :)

[10:22 pm] yang jungwon: i’ve really missed u

[11:49 pm] yang jungwon: goodnight love, sweet dreams :) ♡

read

By the next day, at the end of class, you’re forced to work with Jungwon at the library for the afternoon. Seoyeon was running late by fifteen minutes. This was the only time you didn’t mind.

The air is cold, and the tension was cutthroat, you could suffocate, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Starting a friendly conversation? Why even bother?

You decided to ask him straightforward the moment he tries to initiate conversation by asking you a question, cutting him off, “What are you pulling at?” you blankly stared at him, pokerfaced. Maybe you went off too aggressive, but his face slacks; he was definitely accustomed to your whole act of ignoring his existence, and probably never expected you to even spare a glance his way.

A long pause before he regains his composure, “What do you mean?” his voice is a lot quieter and controlled compared to the past. Now that you notice it, he’s changed in a lot of ways. He’s no longer the bright happy-go-lucky rascal that you were once familiar with. No longer the one who didn’t care about grades, but the one sitting beside you at one of the best universities. He’s … matured a lot.

“The messages?” cutting directly into it, your eyes narrowed on him, “what are you trying to pull at?” you interrogate him. Tell me lies. Tell me the truth. Tell me you’re leaving. Tell me you’re staying.

Surprise is written all over his face, catching him off gaurd, “They’re nothing,” he clears his throat, words getting caught in the midst of it. “I just thought … I, um,” he trailed off, avoiding direct eye contact.

Your hard gaze doesn’t falter, patience running thin. “Spit it out, Yang.”

He winces at your tone, and you wished you hadn’t seen that. “I just thought that you needed it. Not needed it exactly, but, well, I assumed - I wanted to let you know -” he doesn’t finish his sentence, but starts another one instead, “I just miss you,” he states, and he’s looking at you - you remember that kind of look. The kind of look that would once tug at your heartstrings.

Once.

You don’t know what Yang Jungwon is pulling at.

Hm.

You stare down hard at him - eyes narrowed, prospecting, judging, and surveying. You no longer tremble at his words. You don’t falter. Have you grown immune to them? Maybe you were sincerely and truly over him after all.

He was pulling at his charms. His thoughtfulness - the little aspects that’d make you believe that he actually cared; the things you so easily fell into. Not anymore. Not after you believed, once.

Once was enough. It’s all a simple game to him, isn’t it?

The day you break down in front of him and let him hold the strings again would be the day you would die.

Not showing a flicker of emotion, you nonchalantly tsked, irritated, “Don’t bother again, will you?”

Jungwon doesn’t say anything, but you feel his lingering stare.

Your settling glare on the textbook in front of you could burn holes. You let him go – you dismiss him, but he never leaves his spot.

Why does he always linger behind?

[01:03pm] yang jungwon: i don’t know if we should be alone together

read

[02:54pm] yang jungwon: i really can’t control myself when you’re around

read

[04:23pm] yang jungwon: i miss the old you

[04:26pm] yang jungwon: im sorry

read

How much was it going to take for you to admit that you felt the same?

[05:33pm] yang jungwon: just so you know i didn’t mean it that way

[05:33pm] yang jungwon: i just noticed that you’ve changed

[05:33pm] yang jungwon: of course you’ve changed

[05:35pm] yang jungwon: you don’t look at me the same anymore

read

[04:47am] yang jungwon: hi bo

[04:47am] yang jungwon: im sorry but i cant

[04:48am] yang jungwon: i really cant let you go

message delivered

A FEW WEEKS LATER

It didn’t take much for her to piece together. She noticed the pattern of behavior from you, your sour and aggravated persona, and Jungwon’s desperate efforts, then figured you were probably his ex.

“You know,” she clicks her tongue, “the thing about love and hate is that there’s a very thin line between them.”

She squints, fingers fiddling around with a penny as she tries to explain, “they’re two sides of the same coin.”

You made a face. She’s been going about this for hours and showed no sign of stopping. Whining, you turn her way, “what are you taking about this time?”

A grin. She raises both her brows in surrender, “You guys got a lot of unfinished business.”

You give her a look, unimpressed.

“The guy nearly snapped his head yesterday the moment he heard you laugh because he wanted to know what you were laughing about,” Seoyeon stares down at you steadily, provoked that you managed to toss the fact over too easily.

You throw her a crumpled piece of paper, and she easily dodges your throw. “Sure.” you snort, barely feigning any interest.

“Cut him some slack! He was your ex for goodness’ sake, some feelings for him still have to be there at some point. You can’t hate your ex that much without actually-maybe-probably loving them,” she singsongs teasingly. This was lighthearted, you knew, but.

You deadpanned. Feelings.

She has got to be serious.

Some feelings still have to be there.

Your heart didn’t feel anything.

Not anymore.

She stares at you in the silence, faking astonishment.

Her mouth forms a small ‘o’, “You’ve got to be serious.”

You only blink at her.

“Stop … don’t you feel anything for him anymore? Or is it like … nothing at all?” Of course, she was talking about him, you knew that - but why were you suddenly caught off guard? This was crazy.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

No one has ever asked you this question.

How were you going to answer that?

You resented him.

You were angry. More than pissed.

You hated everything about him.

Your face scrunches up in disgust at the thought, but you answer her question after a pause, “One thing I know for sure,” you start casually, pausing in consideration, “is that I don’t want to see that annoying face of his again.”

You meant every word, this time.

You were willing to do whatever it took for that to happen.

At that moment, Seoyeon then concludes that the both of you had unfinished business. Jungwon was clearly not over you, anyone with a mile radius could see that. The boy was drop-dead crazy for you.

The more you try and repress feelings, the larger it grows.

How cliché does that sound?

She tilts her head to the side, glancing your way. But in a way, she knew it wasn’t one-sided, either.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ all too well by taylor swift ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

“Jungwon?” you whispered incredulously. Rubbing your eyes due to your half-asleep state, you leaned your frame against your door with your worry starting to alarm you awake. “What’re you doing here?”

Standing at your apartment door, your boyfriend appeared rugged, his eyes tired and drowsy. You noticed his clothes were still of what you saw him wear yesterday morning. your heart ached to see him in such a state, concluding he had spent the whole day producing, working, and overworking himself without rest. You hated whenever he did this to himself.

Seeing you frown, Jungwon pulls you to his embrace, wrapping you around his arms with a contented sigh, “Just wanted to see my baby,” he mumbles out incoherently, fighting through sleep, “I’ve missed you.”

You clung onto him, your face still at a cloudy state of haze – unreservedly astounded. Meanwhile on the other hand, Jungwon continues to laugh over your dumbfounded look. He pinches the sides of your cheeks, cooing over at you. As you try to wriggle yourself away, you found yourself embracing your figure back into his arms to squeeze his waist tightly in fear that he might disappear. He teases you at the action, lightheartedly calling you his little koala, but you don’t miss the endearing tone to his voice – or the way his breath hitches from your embrace.

“You’re here,” you managed to breathe out to yourself, burying your forehead against his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you desperately hoped to the gods above that the moment you opened them, everything wasn’t just going to turn out as another dream of yours. You could barely process much more comprehend what was going on, ‘he’s here, he’s here, he’s here’ were the only notions you could formulate by the slightest, chanting through your brainwork repeatedly for you to comprehend. Humorously, you didn’t wonder how he was possibly here, or why. He shouldn’t be - he was too busy.

You didn’t think about the fact that he’s supposed to be halfway across the world working on his production, and definitely not here. Inhaling his scent, your ongoing worries and stress had seemed to evaporate, your form relaxing almost immediately. He smelled like home.

The loud chatters and distinctive outside noise from people passing by that surrounded the both of you, along the fact that the both of you were in a public place – all had seemed to drown out and appear forgotten. You clung to his warm figure after months of being apart, out of all the days you’d secretly dreamed about him surprising you, you never figured today was going to be that day. You clasped onto him even tighter, your smile growing wider by the second, it’s been quite some time since you ever felt half this happy.

He let out a low vibrating laugh with your face pressed against his chest, engulfing you tightly around his hold whilst swaying the both of you side to side. It was little moments and acts of efforts like these that mattered most to you. You drowned yourself at the rhythm and sound of his heartbeat that spoke the words the both of you already knew; he had missed you.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

Maybe you were always too busy for Yang Jungwon when the both of you dated.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe that was the reason why.

Or maybe he simply always seeking attention from you, constantly and childishly. He complained about you studying too much as he started sulking alone was, he wandered around the place ‘miserably’, while you were trying to place your focus on your book, refusing to give into him again.

A little later and he tossed the fact that he had to pick up some errands, and you volunteered to help accompany him since he mentioned that he’d only be out for a while.

But after picking up the things he had acquired through his errands, the rain was against your luck and poured heavily. You cursed at yourself, having brought no umbrella with you. Looking at Jungwon, you could judge immediately by then that he didn’t bring one as well.

“Running for it sounds pretty good,” you suggested with a beam on your face, but you noticed how Jungwon huffed in disagreement, not approving of the idea; worrying that the rain might get you hurt or sick as he starts pulling out deliberate excuses and reasons.

“It’s too slippery out in the rain, you might fall,”

“Car accidents happen more often in the rain,”

“You’ll get sick, can you afford to be sick at a time like this?”

You ignored all his protests when you decided to just audaciously leave the store entrance before walking into the rain without any given warning.

He doesn’t say anything, and when you glanced back at him in question, you immediately noticed how visibly irritated he was with you misbehaving and ignoring him. Jungwon was always overly protective over you.

Though you appreciated it, his over-protectiveness wasn’t something you exactly needed at this time of your mid-terms. You just needed to study, and Jungwon could simply work on his music. The place you were at wasn’t too far from home, so it wasn’t exactly too absurd to make a run for it.

His eyes zeroed on you, giving no humor in his eyes, “Come back in here.”

You looked at him with fake-pleading eyes, “I left my notes back home,” you frowned.

“I don’t care. You are not getting sick.”

He wanted to sit the rain out, of course he did. But you didn’t know when the rain was going to stop, or if it ever showed any signs of stopping, in the first place. Just by your boyfriend’s tone itself, you knew you got yourself in trouble. That was not a good sign, he would always pull some crazy idea that would always try to teach you a lesson.

You didn’t move an inch from your spot.

Jungwon hurdled at you once he realizes that you were being stubborn, wrapping his arms around your waist securely regardless of the hefty downpour of rain, “Step another foot further and I’ll make sure you’ll never be touching your beloved notes again.”

“Ugh, Yang Jungwon, are you crazy?” you argued, trying to untangle yourself from him but his firm grip wouldn’t let you go.

“Jungwon, I’m serious! I really need to study, I have my exams—!”

“Aish, you’d be on your deathbed, and you wouldn’t even think of me at all, you would only care about studying!” he contested nonsensically as he dramatically complains.

You scowled at his comment, your face souring as you try wriggling yourself out of his grasp even harder, “Yah, you rascal!”

“Come back inside and I’ll let you go,” he conditions, a small grin showing that he had won. You glower at him, but having no choice but to subit and wait the next two hours by the porch of the store for the rain to subside. He covers you by towering in front of you, ensuring that you weren’t going to get hit by the rain.

Jungwon was a lot of maintenance - a lot of people would say, but he was adorable.

And most of all, he was yours.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

PRESENT [ JUNGWON'S POV ]

Jungwon spends the rest of his night at school fixing up your science project, without an ounce of sleep.

He finds Sunoo dropping by the room, slightly jumping in surprise at the sight of him there. He covers his chest with his hand, “What the hell are you doing here?” he lightheartedly scolds him.

But he pauses squinting at him, “Were you . . .” his eyes widen, “Dude, did you spend the entire night here?” he asks Jungwon, bewildered. “Doing . . .” he tilts his head, taking a peek, and his mouth hangs open as he finally pieces things together, “-Y/N’s science lab project . . .?”

Sunoo’s eyes almost budge out of his sockets. “Isn’t this what Y/N’s been worrying crazy about –? How did you –?”

He couldn’t exactly admit that he’s overheard you complaining about your project and begging others to help you with it miserably. He knew you always took your grades seriously, but, how could he explain this to Sunoo of all people?

Jungwon looks conflicted, immediately standing away from your project. He was finished wish it, anyway. He just needed to get here undetected by you. Kim Sunoo was a problem, however. There was no way Sunoo wasn’t not telling you about this.

“Don’t tell her I did this,” Jungwon tells him, reading Sunoo’s next moves.

His eyes dart from the project to Jungwon. He frowns, confused. “Why not?”

Jungwon hesitates with his words, being careful. “Just because. Don’t.” What the hell can he say? The bell rings, and he panics.

“She has a hell of an ego, you know this. Tell her you fixed this or something. I don’t know. Make some shit up.”

He scurries out the lab but hangs behind at the entrance door for a few seconds.

Jungwon emphasizes what he’s told Sunoo. “I’m counting on you, bro.”

He slips away like a ghost.

Sunoo tells you that Ningning and Jake helped with your final lab project, and you believed it – eyes sparkling with relief and complete utter gratitude. You wondered how they got to finish the project in a day. They were the chemistry experts of the class, anyway – who were you to question them?

Sunoo sees Jungwon at the side of the room looking at you and your project. He watches him watch you. How happy you were with the project, and the endless showering of compliments. Was he really just . . . not going to tell you?

Sunoo takes a look at both you and Jungwon and scratches his head in utter confusion. What was going on with the both of you?

He has no idea what that boy is hiding.

A FEW DAYS LATER IN THAT WEEK

Jungwon really was getting in your nerves.

On your way to class, you did nothing but mind your own business when he swirls out of nowhere and pushes you aside, refraining you from entering the classroom. You furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, trying to wriggle away from his grasp, but his grip stays firm. He’s holding the sides of both your arms to let you stay in place, looking anxious and rushed. “Wait.”

“Yang Jungwon, what the hell?”

He tries to find words to say, but he can’t find any. “I . . . like the color of your hair. Did you dye it?”

Your stare is blank. “What?”

“I need recommendations. I might use it too, so –“

“This is my natural hair color.” you deadpan, without an ounce of friendliness, “now if you’ll excuse me –”

“No! Gah,” he lets out a frustrated noise, rushed, “. . . the speech report! I need help in –“

He was messing with you. He had to be.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” you try to breathe in calmly, but you were talking through your gritted teeth. “You submitted your speech report last week,” you hissed, your patience running thin.

You finally wriggle yourself free from his grasp, and that was when the panic was evident in Jungwon’s features.

You barely get to move an inch before, “Do you still have hang-ups on me?” He rushes out of nowhere, an attempt of desperation.

What?

To say that you were at a loss for words was an understatement.

You freeze. Staring at him, dumbfounded.

Were you simply a joke to him?

What was he saying? He was desperate, willing to just have your attention anywhere else. You could not enter the room. That was his plan.

You were trying to regain composure. Clamping your jaw down hard, your eyes narrowed. “Please, kindly fuck off.”

You stalk away, pissed off.

As soon as he ensured that you were walking the opposite direction, and Jungwon heaves a small sigh of relief. At least.

He budges the door classroom open – the room he had noticed that a couple of asshats were trying to pull on harsh pranks on – and immediately, an old tray of leftover food spills from above, falling flat on the floor instead as Jungwon dodges it from anticipating this beforehand.

And you piece thing and thing together.

This was what he was driving you away from?

Because that could’ve been you.

His eyes settle on the group of bullies seated at the end of the room. He cracks his knuckles. Jungwon’s eyes have never been so deadly.

Jungwon comes in class later with a purple bruise coloring his upper left cheek, and a busted lip.

You don’t ask him the story, but instead, you assume the worst in him. Like you always do.

He’s up to no good.

He always was.

[08:12pm] yang jungwon: are you going?

[08:21pm] you: ?

[08:21pm] yang jungwon: oh hi love

[08:22pm] yang jungwon: are you coming to gyeonju tower tomorrow? i wanted to tell you in person today but you seemed like u were in a rush to leave

[08:24pm] you: ? what do you want

[08:25pm] yang jungwon: i wanted to explain things

[08:25pm] yang jungwon: and explain myself

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[08:53pm] yang jungwon: i want to make things right

[08:54pm] yang jungwon: please let me, bo

[08:54pm] you: im busy.

[08:57pm] yang jungwon: i’ll be waiting for you tomorrow at 1pm

[09:00pm] you: i said im not going.

[09:02pm] yang jungwon: just one chance, please

[09:04pm] yang jungwon: one last one

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You didn’t care, you weren’t going.

THE FOLLOWING DAY

You’ve decided that you wouldn’t go.

You won’t go.

You won’t go, end of discussion.

You spent the last night considering it until two in the morning. You’ve finalized your decision. “This is a no-brainer. Who does he think he is? I’m not giving him the satisfaction,” you rant morely to yourself - it was almost as if you werer trying to convince yourself instead.

You tug at the ends of your hair in frustration, hissing. Both Ningning and Seoyeon watches you in silent amusement after being told of the situation. The two were the only ones who knew about you and Jungwon, and the only two who you’ve been ranting to for the past two hours.

“I’m not going,” you repeat aggravatedly, exclaiming as you fling your arms. You pace around the room.

Ningning languidly lazes around the chair as you frantically pace around the room, “So you’ve told us for the past forty six times,” she can’t help but comment, fighting away her grin. You scowl at her, grabbing the strap of your bag to sling it around your shoulder.

“You guys are annoying. I’m leaving.”

Both Seoyeon and Ningning stare after you, waving you goodbye at your stressed state.

Ningning props herself up with her elbows, leaning her cheek with the palm of her hands as soon as you’ve left the room. She stares at Seoyeon, who was mindlessly scrolling through her phone, “She’s definitely going, isn’t she?”

Seoyeon tosses the bag of chips that she’s been hogging Ningning’s way - which she accepts immediately, munching down on the ones on her palm with disinterest, “Yep.”

LATER, 1 PM

You tug awkwardly at your sleeve, eyes searching for a certain figure in mind as they bunglingly dart around the place.

So, maybe you really did end up going to the tower. Just to check things out. That was it. And maybe see if he was there. If he really showed up. Hear what he wanted to say if it was important. Nothing more. You felt bad just leaving him alone - you weren’t like him, intentionally leaving someone on for hours to wait for you.

You had a conscience. You simply showed up because you didn’t want to be burdened by it.

You don’t know how long you waited on the first half of the period under the heat of the sun from the tower, but by the time you take out your phone to check the time, it was half past one in the afternoon.

Tick-tok.

You stare at your phone’s lock screen, expecting a text from Jungwon to pop up any second to inform you that he was probably running late. Anything.

An hour passes by.

You figure you’d give him another thirty minutes. Just another thirty minutes. If he wasn’t going to show up, you didn’t care anymore. You would leave.

It was past 30 minutes.

Another hour passes by.

Until rain starts to lightly drizzle.

Until clouds start to darken.

Until your legs start to ache.

And until you were soaking and clothes drenched with water in the pouring heavy rain.

Again.

Until it dawns on you.

Jungwon isn’t here.

He wasn’t coming.

He was never going to.

And there you were, standing alone stupidly – a fool. A fool who never learned her lesson after two years.

He was enjoying this; toying with you, he’s got to be.

You don’t know why you really expected anything else from him.

A heavy exhale.

You don’t know why you hoped you did.

You get a call from Jungwon by the evening. You were dumbly weak enough to easily get manipulated to answer the phone.

He sounded frantic, “Hello? Y/N? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to attend our meet-up. I’m - I’m really sorry, I was really planning to go -” You wish you could believe him.

“Yeah. It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” you sound too monotone for your words to sound like you meant them.

“I’m so sorry that you waited on me, I promise I’ll make it up to -” No more promises. No more, Jungwon. I can’t take anymore.

You harshly cut him off, oppressive. “What do you mean? I didn’t come. I told you I won’t, didn’t I?”

You still had your dignity. Lies were all that you had left. You’d lie just for Jungwon to not get that sense of satisfaction from you. You wouldn’t let him.

He is silent, “Yeah, I know.”

You inhale, vexed. Your eyes flicker around the room, feeling flighty with apprehension. “What’s up, anyway? What held you from coming?” you made an effort to sound as casual as possible bringing it up, as if you didn’t care. As if you didn’t spend the whole afternoon drenched in pouring rain waiting for him.

A long silent pause again. You could tell he was hesitating to answer.

He tries to let out a lighthearted laugh as he waves it off, "It’s nothing.”

It was nothing, again. It’s always nothing. Were you ever something - anything - to him?

It takes a moment for you to register his response. How effortlessly care-free he was about it. Your tone appears tight, “Okay. Well, it’s good that you weren’t able to go. I wasn’t there anyway.” You didn’t know what else to say other than stressing that you never came. That you didn’t care.

Lie.

“Oh,” is what Jungwon replies with, he sounded distracted - like his mind wasn’t in the conversation. He wasn’t interested in talking to you anyway, why did he bother calling?

You grit at your teeth, “I’m not a fool, Jungwon.”

You don’t know if he’s even listening to you, you start to question. It takes long for him to respond, “I know.”

He was being as short with his responses as ever. Was this what he called explaining himself? You doubt if he ever cared about making it up to you in the first place. You try to hide your disappointment in your tone with impatience, “Is that all? I’m gonna go now. I’m busy.”

You don’t wait for his reply.

You immediately end the call and toss your phone as far as you could.

You hope that was worth it for Jungwon.

[ JUNGWON’S POV ] . . . what really happened

Jungwon woke up three hours earlier that day.

When Jungwon was getting himself dressed, a boy from across the city was still sleeping through his alarm that he wasn’t able to set the night before. Meanwhile, a girl was waiting somewhere in the city’s lobby, waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up.

While that happened, Jungwon was on his way to a jewelry shop to buy you a gift. He was beyond excited to see you. The boy from across the city was still sleeping, but the girl’s boyfriend eventually came to pick her up. On the other side, Jungwon had forgotten his credit card, and had no other option to pay by cash.

By this time, the sleeping boy’s mother barges into the boy’s room to wake him up as he was late for class – and asking him if he spent another late night playing with his friends. The girl in her boyfriend’s car receives a text from her ex while her boyfriend stops by to pick up the cake they ordered for their anniversary.

Jungwon was nearly at the Gyeonju tower when the boy who was running late for class stumbled out of the house, got on his bike, and peddled as fast as he could. The girl was already texting her ex-boyfriend by this time, and before she could tuck her phone away as soon as her boyfriend got into the car, the boyfriend had caught her already.

All the while the couple slowly started to argue about her talking to her ex, Jungwon was stuck in traffic and anxiously waiting – frustrated. Though he had more than an hour to spare, he wanted to see you as quickly as possible. This was the moment of his life that meant most to him. The boy who was running late took a wrong turn because he was not on the right state of mind, still half-asleep.

The couple argued all the way to the girlfriend’s parents’ house while the boy in the bike running late was trying to find his way out of the unfamiliar place, completely flustered. Jungwon had already arrived at Gyeonju tower, parking his car before trying to fix up his hair. He never really cared about how he looked like, but Jungwon’s nerves were jittering. This was the first time he was so anxious to see you.

And finally, at the same time, the boy was too distracted to see the couple’s car in front of him – as well as the couple, as they were still too busy arguing. Jungwon had just gotten out of the car, crossing the road.

It all happened too quickly.

If the son had set his alarm the day before and wasn’t running late for his class, if the girl hadn’t picked up the call from her ex-boyfriend, if couple hadn’t been arguing while the boyfriend was driving, or if Jungwon didn’t take his time in the car mirror trying to make sure he looked good for you - then maybe he would’ve gotten to meet you that night.

Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten into that car accident.

Maybe none of this would’ve be happening right now.

Life is a series of multiple interactions, they said.

The next situation Jungwon finds himself in was lying still – unable to move – in the hospital emergency room with blood – his blood? – covered all over his clothes, and when he gains the smallest bit of energy to barely open his eyes, he feels like he’s lost everything all over again.

In spite of all the events, he remembers you.

Your smile.

And his promise.

But he blacks out.

The moment Jungwon awakes into consciousness, his first thought isn’t what he was doing in an emergency room hospital, all alone. It isn’t wondering why he had blood all over his clothes, or why his body physically hurt too much for him to move.

His first thought was you.

His first thought was always going to be you. Where were you? What-? He sees the small bag settled beside him, squinting at it - before realizing it was for you. For the meeting. Today. Shit. In less than half a second, he ignores the pins and needles of his skin feeling like it was being stretched out just to reach his phone and dial your number.

“Hello? Y/N? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to attend our meet-up. I’m - I’m really sorry, I was really planning to go -”

Your tone interrupts him midway, seemingly clipped and tight. “Yeah. It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” were you mad? Guessing by the tone of your voice, you seemed upset. Lord, he begged for that one chance you gave him and he had to go through this out of all the occasions?

You pinches the bridge of his nose after running a hand through his hair, cursing inwardly. How many more chances could you give him? You would never believe him ever again. “I’m so sorry that you waited on me, I promise I’ll make it up to -”

Your response hits him right in the gut, harder and more painful than any of the stitches and bandages he had being freshly reopened. “What do you mean? I didn’t come. I told you I won’t, didn’t I?”

His throat constricts, eyes lowering as the grip on the phone tightens, “Yeah, I know.” He hangs his head low.

You shrug it off with disinterest, your tone indifferent. “What’s up, anyway? What held you from coming?”

He hesitates, glancing down at the patches of bandages and stitches. He doesn’t try to explain. He doesn’t want you to know. What could he say to cover things up? He tries to avoid sounding suspicious with a lighthearted laugh, “It’s nothing.”

God, it sounded fake.

Your indifference rings through his mind over and over again. Did you really not care about him anymore? Did you really mean it when you said you weren’t going to go? A sharp stab in the heart each time the thought rings through him.

A pause.

“Okay. Well, it’s good that you weren’t able to go. I wasn’t there anyway.”

“Oh,” was all Jungwon could respond with, he was beginning to feel dizzy - overwhelmed and exhausted. A sharp buzz rang deaf through his ears.

The room started to spin as you continued through the call – unaware, “I’m not a fool, Jungwon,” you remind him. Was it really the end?

Has he finally lost you?

He doesn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t deny the fact that it hurt. Everything hurts. Fuck. A long pause, “I know.”

“Is that all? I’m gonna go now. I'm busy,” you harshly end things, not bothering to expant the conversation or on the details. You don’t push him. You don’t care.

The line went dead.

A piece of him along with it died too.

Jungwon sits at one of the emergency room’s beds alone and he realizes that the hospital could heal all his physical wounds and scars, but he doesn’t think the internal pain he’s feeling could be treated.

A nurse that was passing by finds him passed out, unconscious, and unresponsive only long minutes later.

A WEEK LATER

Initially, you had planned to keep away from Jungwon at all costs the moment classes started again. He could suffer all he needed.

But.

You don’t see Jungwon.

Not that you cared if he was around - it was a relief to you that you didn’t have to deal with him, but didn’t you .. deserve an explanation?

No.

That’s right. An explanation from Jungwon for ditching you was something you would never get. That hasn’t changed, and you were a fool for believing otherwise.

You repeatedly sneak glances by his desk - anywhere, for a sign of him. It was useless to ask anyone else. His friends? When had Jungwon ever tried talking to somebody that wasn’t you?

Not that you ever took notice, either.

It’s been a week.

Seconds tick by slowly, and lectures drag in what seems like hours. It comes to the point where you almost decide on texting his number and demanding where he was. It took every part of yourself to manage to not do so.

Your notifications remained empty this time.

No messages. No calls.

He’s gone again.

THREE WEEKS LATER [JUNGWON’S POV ]

With a fractured arm and multiple wounds and stitches, Jungwon had to opt to wait three weeks before he was able to attend classes again.

He only looks forward to seeing your face.

To explain everything to you.

He messed up again.

Maybe you were looking for him? It’s been three weeks, maybe you had wondered for a fraction where he went all of a sudden? Maybe you were worried? Maybe you were concerned? Or maybe you didn’t care? Maybe you were celebrating right now?

He flinches that the thought.

He spots you by the hallways after his hour long search around the campus. You barely looked bothered at all. That was fine, Jungwon reminded himself. He walks his way towards you with the gift he had bought you weeks prior, when the accident had happened. The gift he had protected with his life to save, and had held on for weeks to give to you. If he wasn’t going to explain things, he at least wanted to give you the gift he had picked for you.

He thinks you’d look pretty in it.

However, as soon as he tries to open his mouth to speak to you once he was close enough for you to hear him, you coldly ignore him entirely. You pack up your things once you hear the bell, ringing just in time for classes to start. You barely even spare him a single glance.

You walk past him like was invincible.

Like you couldn’t care any less of what happened to him.

It turns out, you were never worried at all.

That fucking him hurt more than being hit by a car a hundred times ever did.

[01:24 pm] yang jungwon: im sorry

[01:29 pm] yang jungwon: can we talk?

[read]

You blocked yang jungwon’s number that day.

[JUNGWON . . . ]

Seoyeon made you laugh.

It was unintentional, he guessed. But she made you laugh. In a way. Other’s might’ve called it a snort. It was a goofy side-comment he made when you expanded the instructions on the chapter needed to be finished. He felt himself destructing and freezing while his heart soared and ripped itself apart. He swore he was flying while being drowned six feet under at the same time.

As someone who spent his entire life on music, Yang Jungwon has heard many sounds. Various melodies and tunes, but none of them were like yours. He’s been walking around tone-deaf for the past few years because it was like he forgot the way your laugh sounded and the way it made him feel like he could do anything.

It was like you immediately regretted it - laughing with him in the room, and maybe his emotions were written all over his face because Jungwon was losing you all over again when you disclose your emotions off once again from him. Then he’s all but greeted with a cold face - an effect of the mess he caused.

He remembers the time where you were his to call, and now, you couldn’t even stand to look at him - or be in the same room as him. He remembers the time where you would look at him and the way your eyes would light up, and now, he looks at your eyes for a fraction of a second and they’re dead. Once vibrant and easy to read - now empty and desolate. Nobody is home. They’re emotionless for him.

Your eyes only tell lies now.

You’ll never be like the way you used to be again.

To think that he ruined it. That he ruined a smile that ran so deep and had so much meaning. A smile that was always for him. A soul that had so much love and kindness for him. He shattered that. That was because of him.

He remembers the time where receiving ‘I love you’s from you were everyday like routines to you, and he compares it with the flash irritation that would cross your face and the petty tone of anger he would get from you every time he tried talking to you.

You’ve changed.

He doesn’t know what those two years have done to you.

What he’s done to you.

Maybe he really messed it up. Maybe he should run and leave and never see you again so he would stop hurting you and fucking you up over and over again. Maybe he should let you move on and let you be happy with someone else. Maybe he should just stop hoping because the gods above know that they don’t trust him with you alone.

It was killing him.

Jungwon couldn’t do any of that.

Getting to see you every day - it was already much of a blessing compared to the two years in the shithole he went through without you, waking up to feel nothing but empty - if it’s not endlessly torturing and tormenting himself for putting you through what he had to.

But couldn’t Jungwon be a little selfish? Just this once? Couldn’t he ask for a little bit more?

If Jungwon could admit, he never wanted much, nor has he asked for much either. To say the truth, he doesn’t care about ninety percent of his life: fuck his gods be damned ‘career’, fuck air and water and happiness and money.

Yang Jungwon was someone that had no interest in the world. He never really got to care about anything. But you. He met you. You were his first. You were all he cared about. You were all that really mattered.

And that was his world.

You were his world.

It’s been two years since he lost you - since he let you go for good, and that was worse than dying. Each moment was as if it was meant to come back at him and break his soul - or whatever’s left of it. All Yang Jungwon gives a damn about is you.

He was damn well still in love with you, and he was never getting you back.

He’s lost you.

And the separating distance between the both of you proves it better than anything.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ hold me while you wait by lewis capaldi ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

THE TWISTING POINT

Jungwon wasn’t in a good mood today.

It was most likely because of work, so you didn’t want to question or pressure him into dwelling into it any further. You stayed smiling, knowing that whenever you were down, Jungwon knew exactly what to do. He needed sunshine.

You hear glass shatter, and loud clanging accompanied with it. You sprang upwards, racing to Jungwon’s aid to check yourself if he was hurt.

As you stared at the mess created, and the person who seemingly intentionally created the mess, you only stood by the doorway.

You knew him, he wasn’t the type to let his anger consume and get the best of him, nor was he the type to physically express his anger. Especially around you. Jungwon loved the idea of you seeing him as a laid-back unique oddball, and you’ve rarely ever seen him irritated or angry. You’ve never seen him like this, however.

You remained silent; your gaze downcast. Whatever happened in the studio today must have been seriously rough enough to affect him into a state like this.

The room is too silent. “Won?” He loves being called that name; he’s told you. It gets him erupting with happiness in no time, but why isn’t it working now?

Why does Jungwon’s eyes look so empty?

“Can you leave?” he asks you when you try to help clean up the broken shards of glass, finally uttering a word after the first time you’ve seen him today.

“I don’t need you here right now.”

Jungwon sees the way you freeze. The way confusion flashes over your face. The way your hopeful and gentle eyes crack by a fraction.

Jungwon sees it all.

You purse your lip in hesitation, worried, but you follow his request with a nod nonetheless as you quietly slip out of the room. I’m always here for you if you need me.

Jungwon feels nothing but emptiness.

“Jungwon, you’ve missed two meals.”

He’s stuck in his music room. Again. Your lips pull into a forming frown at his state, placing the plate of food that you’ve organized for him at a table nearest to you.

He only gives you a glance before his attention is back at his music, “I’m kind of busy here,” he blandly reminds you the obvious, and you feel yourself mentally deflate, a bit.

A pause. You sucked in a breath. “I know, but you shouldn’t skip meals, okay? Take some rests,” you keep your voice gentle, hopeful.

He barely gives a grunt in reply.

Why didn’t you see that he didn’t want you anymore then?

You swallow, trying in another attempt, “Um, do you need any help in -” Jungwon swivels his chair abruptly, turning completely at you. It’s the first time you see him look at you in a while, “No,” the look in his eyes is something you’d never forget, “I’m fine, Y/N.” And when he turns his back on you, you feel a jab in the gut.

Ah.

You get the message.

You weren’t wanted around.

“Okay, I’ll uhh … I’ll …” you don’t finish your sentence, merely signaling that you were going to leave, but well aware that Jungwon was already back facing his screen. You don’t think he notices. You don’t think he ever notices anything at all.

No response. Not even a glance your way.

You felt so lonely.

Jungwon was going out again, as he’s all done for the past week.

Maybe you were overthinking all of this, but you felt as if he was doing whatever it took to avoid you. To avoid looking at you. To avoid talking to you. To avoid spending time with you. Of course, it was all in your head.

He would never hurt you like that, Jungwon was just busy. He was just going through things. He had it rough, you should be considerate.

It was just you alone most of the time, and you started to wonder if he was doing fine. If he needed you, at all.

“Jungwon?”

He turns to you, his body almost out of the door. “Are you okay?” you gently ask him.

He blinks. “I’m fine,” he replies after a pause.

You wanted to help him, whatever he was going through. You wanted to go through it with him together — you wanted to be there for him. “You don’t seem fine,” you try to start, “Jungwon, I’m here for you, you can talk to me if you—”

An exasperated sound of displeasure cuts you off, like a tether piecing everything together that snaps. “Can’t you do anything else other than bother me?” he waves you off, slamming the door in visible distress. He leaves you like that, and he doesn’t have to say anything else to make the wound hurt all the more.

The words left unsaid were enough.

He doesn’t come back the next day.

You wished he’d have told you how he loved you before he left, even if he didn’t mean it.

The air was cold. You know that it was not because of the weather.

Your mind wanders.

Sometimes you consider the fact that there could be someone else.

You wonder where everything started to change, and somedays, the thoughts get heavy and immensely difficult for you to carry. Sometimes they hurt too much to think about. You can’t help but wonder where your love lacked for him, in where you gave him everything. Even if it costed more than you could afford, it was worth it. But was it not for him? Was it not anymore?

It’s hard to fight what was fated.

But you would’ve still ruined yourself to fix him.

Even if there was another person, you think, you just wished he told you - so you would stop foolishly hoping and trying to convince yourself that this was all a sick phase of his that would eventually pass. So, you would stop foolishly assuming that there was ‘together’ and ‘forever’ for the both of you. You wouldn’t insist on it anymore, if that’s what made him happy. Watching him torture himself like that and choosing not to say anything to you was more painful than anything else.

You knew you were not the one in his heart.

This was all going to pass, right?

Jungwon, talk to me.

Jungwon can make it better.

He always has. You could never remember a time where he didn’t come to swoop in and save your day.

Was this the timing in where you realize that things were permanently going to change?

A simple month changes you a lot.

You believed, but you were slowly losing the light.

You gave so many signs.

So many warning signs.

He walked past every single one of them.

You couldn’t be the only one fighting for something that was already gone. Something that was thrown away and given up on. Because you have been, for as long as you can, and you don’t know if you can still continue to allow yourself to put yourself through it - because you don’t know if you can take it. Even if it was just one last time.

But still, you were willing to offer him anything he wanted the moment he needed it. You were ready to run to his side even if it killed you. Waste my time, waste it all.

The painful fake smiles, and pretending if everything was perfectly fine, as if you were okay, and the desperate pair of eyes that he always seemed to ignore.

You don’t know when it would stop.

You could only wish he would stay a bit longer to savor before he was going to make it hurt for you.

You felt the fatigue, then.

It’ll get better soon.

THE BREAKING POINT

It was all about him.

You don’t know if you could take this any longer.

“Jungwon?” you called out to him - through the empty house, “I’m tired.” Faintly.

You were washing the dishes after immediately arriving home from your part-time job. No time for giving yourself a rest, or for catching up on the upcoming exam the next day. It was eleven o’clock at night. You heard the door slam, and you knew Jungwon was home.

He could mope around and throw things around. He was entitled to treat you harshly because he was going through a rough time. He could do absolutely nothing. That was how everything worked.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t cry. You couldn’t pause and rest. You weren’t entitled to feel angry or irritated because you weren’t going through whatever he was going through. You had to take care of him, and you had to endure getting treated that way our you could leave and walk through the door.

The shuffling of footsteps stops. You don’t move. You leave the faucet water running, eyes staring distantly - somewhere. But you don’t look over at him. You know that the courage that you’ve spent months trying to build up would come crashing down the moment you do.

There is no noise, only the running of the water. You know he’s listening.

“I can’t do it anymore,” you bat an eye, and your shoulders ease up a little. There is a certain stillness in the air.

“I feel like I’m just wasting my life in this relationship,” you’ve thought about this. You’ve tried to shrug the feeling off, but you wanted to know if you wanted to fight for him too. “I’m always looking stupid. I’m always left behind,” Isn’t it exhausting for you too, Jungwon?

Nothing. Silence. No response.

He wasn’t pushing you.

He wasn’t begging you to stay, like he always did.

He wasn’t going to even just try to change your mind.

He’s letting you go.

That infuriates you further, and you hate that he’s making you feel like you’re being too unreasonable without having to say anything. You hate the words he’s saying to you without even him having to open his mouth. Silence is all you’ve been receiving, hasn’t it? It’s always turning his back. It’s always the cold shoulder, whatever he had to say - he wouldn’t say it. It’s always been that way. Itwas always you that had to adjust.

You hated this.

You hated this so much.

It was him leaving you alone to your degrading thoughts that would break you more than he ever can, “It’s all about you. It’s all just about your sufferings, isn’t it? It’s all just yours!”

Why wasn’t he stopping you?

Why wasn’t he trying to fix this?

You wanted him to explain himself and assure you that everything was going to be okay. You wanted to work this out. Good God, you did. More than anything. But what happened to the day when you missed the most important exams for him just because he was too in his head to take care of himself? Where was he? What was he doing? Where was he when you were called to the school’s office because you were nearly falling off school? Where was he when you cried countlessly from overwhelming stress because of that?

Where was he when you were pacing back and forth at four in the morning without a wink of sleep, waiting for him to come back home and wondering to the heavens what the hell had happened to him? Where was he when you felt so isolated and alone? Where was he when your parents turned your back on you for you giving up everything for a boy who already seemed to have given up on you? Where was he to fight for you? Where was he to look you in the eye and give you a reason to keep fighting - to stay?

Jungwon was going through shit. That was something you understood. Something you wished he never went through, something you know he doesn’t deserve. And you were there for him. Every step of the way. But that didn’t mean that you had it all easy, either - did it? Didn’t he know? Or did he just not care?

You wanted to work this out. But … did he?

Soft, too soft. You could barely hear. “So desperate,” it was murmured. A pause, a shift in movement, and he was gone.

He was gone. He walked away. Like it meant nothing to him.

It stays, lingering. But he leaves.

You can’t believe him.

So monotone.

So emotionless.

Like it doesn’t mean anything.

He breaks you.

You crack open.

He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t fight for you. He doesn’t feel anything for you. He doesn’t find a reason to stay.

He finds a reason to leave.

That was it. And you weren’t even sure if he said it. Maybe it was a flicker of your imagination. Maybe you were going insane, was what it was. Did he leave?

He couldn’t have.

It was the end.

End.

The end of the both of you.

After that end, there was … nothing.

It was the end?

Your weight leans against the counter table in support, breathing heavily. Your heartbeat racing, your mind processing. A minute passes by, and you still stand frozen.

No. The stillness was too much to handle, you needed Jungwon, even if the only words he was ever going to say to you would hurt. You stumbled, rushing after the door as you tried calling after him. You didn’t want him to go. You couldn’t let him, you won’t give up on him. You needed him there. You were tired, and you needed Jungwon.

“Jungwon.” Where was he off to the moment you finally told him how you were feeling? Was it a mistake? Should you have stayed quiet instead?

“I didn’t mean what I said, come back and we’ll talk this out,” you called after him. You would take it all back.

He was gone.

You turned, and you turned, and you hoped. Nothing. Pitch black. Darkness.

“Jungwon?” you were crying now, crumbling a little. “Jungwon, I’m sorry, please come back, please.” you begged. And you kept calling him, until even the gods above could hear you. But where was he? No, he was going to come back for you. He was.

He was going to explain that he was sorry and that he never meant to hurt you. He was going to pop up right next to you like he always used it. He was going to smile at you with a cheeky grin and make fun of how you fell for his sick joke. He was going to give you a reason to stay and you were going to be okay.

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry,” you shouted after him, numbly trying to follow his footsteps that weren’t there. Footsteps that were erased. The footsteps of someone who promised he’d never leave your side. It was pathetic. Your desperation was pathetic.

Where did he go? Which way did he go? Please show up. Please. Please.

You shivered at the cold. Why was it raining so hard? You could barely see a thing. It was too dark. Not a single light in sight. You didn’t even realize it was raining. But it didn’t matter. You wouldn’t go home until Jungwon was back. And safe. Everything will be okay.

Moments pass and you don’t know if it took hours. Jungwon wasn’t there and you were losing him the way you were losing yourself. “Please,” your voice came out a whisper as your legs gave up on you, falling into your knees, “come back to me,” your body shakes, and that was the end.

All you were left with was the memories.

The both of you were nothing but memories now.

Ended because of happenstance.

He was still gone the next day.

And the next.

And the next after the next.

And the week after.

And the month after.

And after that.

You waited.

He promised.

You believed.

Ah.

You felt it, then.

The light you held onto exhaled and took its last breath.

Expired.

When things are expired - when things pass its due date, no matter how much big of a waste it is, or how much you were looking forward for it; you can only throw it away.

Because your relationship wasn’t the only thing gone and lost to disappear that day. It wasn’t only him - or it wasn’t the one thing you cared most about. It was you. You came along with it. You; a simple crumpled worn-out paper thrown away. A rough draft. Scrapped and forgotten.

He wasn’t coming back.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ skin by sabrina carpenter ]

PRESENT TIME, THE FOLLOWING DAY

The group was chatting with each other as usual. You were with Ningning and Seoyeon, catching up with the latest most random topics while you were making it a point to ignore Jungwon’s longing stare. Until Jake Sim takes a glance his way and points out of nowhere, “What happened to your arm?”

He immediately replies, “Nothing.”

When you sneak a glance over at Jungwon’s arm, he catches you and straight away tucks his arm away from your side’s view as casually as possible. Why did he have bandages? Your brows furrowed at him, skeptically surveying him.

What was he hiding this time?

It was in the middle of individual study period when Ningning queries out of nowhere, “Y/N, Is Jungwon trying to win you back?”

A few glances your way at the sudden uplifting noise through the quiet room.

You almost choke. You wish you did. “What?” Loudly whispering, you snap your head over her direction, eyes blazing down at her incredulously.

“He isn’t?” Seoyeon pipes in, questioning incredulously, all the more surprised than you. The both of them were never going to let her newfound discovery of exes that were quote “fated back together” end quote. You stare blankly at the both of them, unamused.

She shrugs innocently. “He looks like it,” she answers her own query and peeks over his way. Explaining, she heaves a casual exhale, “He keeps looking over at you every five seconds with those starry hopeful eyes as if you’d change your mind.”

Your face hardens at the mention of it. You hadn’t told what happened between you and Jungwon to anyone. Once both Seoyeon and Ningning had asked for the details of what happened, you simply brushed it off, not wanting to talk about it. They had assumed something went wrong.

Whatever Seoyeon had in mind to be out of a romantic film - this wasn’t the case. You had no idea what he was up to, but it was most probably something that would put up some entertainment to aid his boredom before he fleets away again.

She playfully nudged you with the edge of her elbow, “So, what made you dump him?”

She laughed. Loud. She was talking quite too casually that you speculated Jungwon could hear the conversation. His head was bowed, supposedly reading. You couldn’t read his facial features. You don’t want to.

“Poor dude, he looks like he’s had it rough.” Of course, everyone would assume it was Jungwon who was dumped. That it was him who was hurting. That it was him who got the mistreatment. You were the bad guy. In the end it’s your fault.

A chill runs down your spine. You dumped him? You almost laugh aloud in sarcasm, but it comes out as a snort. Waving her off teasingly, you motion the both of them to shoo away, “Shove off.”

Seoyeon gives a toothy beam before scribbling something down her notebook, Ningning peeks over to read it and giggles. You barely catch a glimpse of it.

‘Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath.’

LATER, AT THE LIBRARY

Another day. That meant another meeting with both Jungwon and Seoyeon in the library. After long hours, the group meeting was finished. All there was left to do was to submit the chapter’s draft for corrections to the professor; it had been decided already that Seoyeon and Jungwon were to do it.

You were leisurely taking your time packing up your stuff when Seoyeon hurriedly scurries out on her way to exit the library. “Hey, Jungwon, I’m really busy today, so I can’t accompany you to pass the papers. I just realized I have soccer practice,” she forms her lips into a pout, faking a thought. It occurs to you then that Seoyeon doesn’t have varsity.

Your eyes narrow at where this was going. “What about ask Y/N to do it? She has nothing to do anyway!” she winks, lightheartedly hitting Jungwon’s arm. He was taken aback, looking confused and somewhat lost himself, but having no choice left other than nodding, he agrees. “Uh . . . sure.”

Seoyeon turns your way and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at you as soon as Jungwon had himself distracted with the papers in the meantime, giving you a thumbs up as if to say ‘you can do this!’ before slipping out of the room - faster before you could protest.

You scowled darkly, clenching down your jaw. If looks could kill. That girl.

On the other hand, Jungwon continues to arrange the pile of papers with a shuffle before quietly handing them to you, he then started on packing up his things. It was suffocating. Would leaving the room make it seem like you lost this nonexistent battle between the both of you?

He cuts you out of your trance of thoughts, “You were there that day at the tower, weren’t you?” he asks you out of the blue. He doesn’t even look your way as he stuffs a few books in his bag, and he doesn’t have to give context for you to know what he was referring to. not a look of uncertainty was evident in his eyes, “I know you were.”

Anger starts to boil inside. You have to remind yourself that this is what he wanted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you casually dismissed.

He inwardly huffs out a breath. “Was it tough for you?” he changes the topic, and you swear it was only a matter of time before he gives you the biggest whiplash.

You were raging with endless anger and fury, yet you keep your face was void of any emotions – standing in front of him as his form blocked your path, stressing you even further. You gripped the strap of your backpack tightly, “Move out of my way, Jungwon.”

“Answer me, first.” he pleads with you. “Was it tough for you, then?”

He doesn’t budge and stubbornly remains rooted to his spot.

You grit your teeth, ripping apart your poorly concealed anger bit by bit. Jungwon didn’t care. He wanted you to feel emotion. Any emotion. Even if it was blinding rage. To scream at him and punch the living lights out of him. It was better than receiving your blank emotionless stare all the time. He couldn’t take it.

He was definitely testing your patience carelessly. Was it tough for you? You laughed humorlessly. A stab to his gut. A knife filled with poison. “I don’t know what you want, but let’s be mature people here. You do whatever hell you’ve been doing the last two years, and I’ll continue do the same. Okay?” you spoke, your tone hostile. You take the folder placed beside him before leaving him there, disinterested.

It wasn’t as simple for you as it has been for him to simply walk the relationship off down the drain.

Not when he promised the world.

Not when you believed him.

Not when he was standing there right in front of you acting as if he didn’t know anything about the shit you had to go through without him. As if he was just innocent. As if he had nothing to do with it. As if he cared. And especially not when he was the one who put you there and left in the first place.

This is what had become of the both of you. Jungwon and you. Worse than strangers, haunted by what’s left of something that was long gone.

All he had to do then was apologize. Actually, he just had to come back, and you would do the apologizing for him. You were always the one who gave in, in the end, anyway.

You would’ve accepted him.

You would’ve even begged for him.

The things you would have done.

None of this would’ve happened.

But.

None of that would work now.

None of that mattered.

It was all too late.

The both of you were just so different now.

LATER

Riki was confusing, truly.

“Didn’t you make fun of me two years ago about how much of a dumbass I was?” you rolled your eyes incredulously at Riki picking at you to how rude you were being to Jungwon, “You hated him, what’s with the change of attitude?” you snort.

Riki shifts his weight, fixing the strap of his bag, “You were a dumbass,” he agrees, pulling a face at you, “and I still hate that guy,” he continues, his expression turning sour at the thought of him, but pauses.

“But you were happy,” he looks over at you deliberately.

A happy dumbass. You could cringe, that was the old you. The desperate old you. Long gone.

You were most definitely not having it, your facial expression hard. “Did you have a head trauma or something? A fever? Are you forgetting the past two years?” you press the back of your hand to his forehead, checking his temperature and warmth for dramatic effect.

He pushes your hand away, “I’m just saying,” he starts, talking to you as if you were a child, “he left, but he’s back, isn’t he?” he throws his hands around for emphasis.

Then he shrugs, like he doesn’t know any better either, “He’s gotta be back for a reason.”

You don’t care. You don’t care what reason he’s back, or whatever he wants from you. “He can’t just come and go as he pleases, idiot,” you forcefully shrug it off, grumbling. “that jerk made his decision that day. He made his bed and now he has to lie in it.”

And Riki gives up on how stubborn you are, “You really do hold grudges, don’t you?” he ruffles your hair up, amused.

Strangling a sound, you kick the back of his leg, but he dodges.

Oops, your eyes slightly widen, anticipating a fall. You lose your balance, nearly tripping - but luckily, Riki notices within a half of a second and catches you before your face plants flat on the ground, hoisting you back to his chest by the grip on your waist.

You were going to laugh at your mistake, your face already breaking into a smile - but your eyes catch someone a few feet away.

You blink. Your smile slowly starts to drop at the sight of him.

Of course, it had to be Yang Jungwon.

For a split second, your shock doesn’t allow your eyes to leave his.

Riki snaps you out of it, releasing you from his grasp and guides you to his side as he slings his arm around your shoulder - like he always does. You’re sure Riki knew well enough and had an idea of how Jungwon looked like. He recognized him straight from the café, and you never questioned how he knew. How were you going to walk out of this one?

Riki doesn’t look at you in confirmation - you have no idea what shit he’s going to pull, but you’re sure as hell it isn’t going to be good.

He nods once in acknowledgement over at Jungwon, but Jungwon pays no mind and choses to ignore him as his eyes flicker onto the arm around you.

Riki notices it.

You don’t know what to do.

“Hey, I’m Riki,” he starts - and for some crazy reason, he sounds as if he was gloating, “who are you?” he throws back casually. Too casually. You would be irritated to talk to him, if you were in his place. The dislike in Jungwon’s features is evident enough. You don’t know what Riki was playing, but he extends his hand out for Jungwon to bro-shake, whatever that could even signify.

A long pause. Jungwon barely glances at it before his attention is back on you, ignoring him beside you as a whole.

“Why are you with him?” he tries to casually question you - as if he was trying to create small talk - his voice is calm - but Jungwon’s eyes never lie. He could never hide anything from it. You knew that look, and you didn’t like it. It made your blood boil. The guts of this self-centered arrogant asshole.

Riki answers in your stead, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to answer. He laughs, throwing his head back a bit, “Oh, don’t mind us,” he curtly replies, “my girl over here ‘s just really clumsy.”

You forgot how much of on asshole Nishimura Riki really is.

Riki effortlessly sighs, openheartedly shrugging as if to say ‘what-can-you-do?’. It was friendly, but you understood the underlying meaning. He was testing him. Picking at him. Provoking him. You wanted to facepalm. Provoking was the only thing he was ever good at, why did you even bother? What was this, some fighting-for-the-alpha-spot werewolf shit?

Nishimura Riki, you asshole!

Jungwon understands the message. A muscle up on his clenched cheek twitches, his eyes slightly narrow. Was he threatened already? You were in a state of disbelief, Riki was barely even doing anything. Seriously. He never changes.

“Why are you with him?” he asks you again, this time his voice comes out somewhat strained in the end. The old Jungwon would’ve probably started a fight right then and there, lacking any sort of composure. Jungwon changed, hasn’t he?

But you have, too.

Riki peeks at you, “Babe? Do you know him?” Confused. Curious. Innocent.

You had to give it to him. Riki was an amazing actor, he could’ve fooled you if you didn’t know any better yourself.

You merely glance at Jungwon, barely a pause before you answer, “No.”

No hesitation in your tone. A ‘no’ as if he was simply a stranger standing before you. Nothing. You observe how your answer hits Jungwon. How the simple word destructs him. You could only watch. Everything was different now. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?

But where was the sense of satisfaction?

You tug at Riki’s arm, “Let’s go, you promised me to bring me home today.”

You leave Jungwon like that. You leave him with the uncomfortable feeling that was bubbling up. Riki is surprised. And confused. You don’t know if he’s still continuing the act when he affectionately waves Jungwon goodbye before immediately following after you.

Yang Jungwon strikes again.

You whacked Riki at the back of his head the moment you were as far from the gods-be-damned-scene and as far from Jungwon as possible, “Idiot!” you hissed, “What the hell was that?”

He rubs the back of his neck soothingly, glaring at you. “You know, just a little ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“’Thank you’, my ass! I told you to not pull any stupid shit!” You threaten to hit him again, vexed at the stunt he pulled. The situation was only going to get worse from there and you couldn’t take back anything at this point. You retreated your arm, groaning in horror of what’s to come.

“The moment called for it!” was his only excuse.

You scowled at him, as if your eyes could annihilate him at the spot.

You got Jungwon, you had to admit. A few more of these blows and he would leave your sights. This was a bad idea, but your mind didn’t seem to pay any care.

Hurt him.

Right then and there, your ego allows Riki to participate in whatever crazy-sick game this was. You just needed Jungwon far away.

Riki smirks at you and flashes you a winning smile. He knows you’ve agreed to his idea without having to say anything else. You had no other option, either way.

“You won’t regret this, ___. It’ll be fun!” he singsongs, draping his arm around you.

It’ll be fun, you echoed.

You’ve been lying to yourself for two years, what’s a couple days more to you?

THE NEXT DAY

Jungwon finds you asleep, leaning your head on the desk with your cheek pressed up against the table.

And Nishimura Riki was by your side, reading gleefully. Mostly watching you sleep. A fucking weirdo, Jungwon inwardly comments. His stomach turns at the sight. His mood has already dried.

He stands there for what seems like a torture of infinity before Riki sees him there. He just grins at him. Jungwon would want to do nothing more but throttle him and that shit-eating look off his face.

“Here for the thesis paper?” was all he asks, he starts collecting himself and his things, preparing to leave, thankfully, Jungwon praises.

But when Riki decides to act like the biggest fucker to piss him off all the more when he leans in to gently tuck back the hair covering your face as as you sleep, Jungwon defensively takes a step forward to you by instinct, ready with a handful of swear words.

Riki notices it, and only press his index finger on his lips, indicating to keep his voice down. Jungwon’s jaw slightly ticks as he stays in place - not risking your sleep.

He pats Jungwon’s shoulder on his way out, but he stops by the door. He motions him closer, as if he were to tell him something hugely important. Jungwon presses his lips into a thin line, walking up to him and trying to keep it as civil as possible.

He holds up a finger, as if to gesture ‘and-one-more-thing’, “Oh, and tell her to keep the hoodie she’s wearing, will you?”

Jungwon raises both brows in question, and instantly regrets it.

Riki further explains himself, "She likes stealing them from me. God knows she has a whole rack of them on her closet.” He shrugs, a growing smirk on his face. “But eh, I like it on her, it suits her better.”

That little shit.

He was about to give him a phony nod and thumbs up to let the whole agitating conversation over with when Riki presses his luck even further, “She’s pretty.”

God. Jungwon’s patience was running thin, his jaw flexes.

“Oh, and tell her -”

Jungwon nearly slams the door on his face.

He wondered what you saw in that guy.

Walking back with his hands stuffed in his pockets - something he does when he was definitely pissed off, he yanks a chair, face displaying irritation at its finest when he arrives back at your table. He doesn’t bother to spare you a glance your way, he knows you too well.

“I know you’re awake,” he says out of nowhere, his voice tight. “Stop pretending.”

It takes several moments before you start faking a yawn. You could easily fool anyone, but sadly for you, he knows you too well. His glance is blank as you outstretch your arms as if you had just woke up, you greet him as if you hadn’t expected to see him there, “Oh . . hey.”

Jungwon had already looked sour from his encounter with Riki, his pissed off gaze averts away from yours. A muscle from his jaw ticks as he huffs, “Your boyfriend left.”

You nod, blinking as if you were slowly trying to register everything. Jungwon wanted to ask you a flood of questions: what was he doing here? Were you already awake when he was being a creep and staring at you while you were ‘asleep’? Why are you wearing his hoodie -? “Okay.”

That aggravates him even more, and his tone turns curt and strained. “I’m going to work on the thesis. You do whatever.” he dismisses you, heaving a short breath.

He stalks off, but not before grimacing at your outfit up and down - more than fumingly horrified, spitting out through gritted teeth, “And take off that hoodie. It looks horrible on you.”

THE WEEK AFTER

You wake up in Monday morning with aching pins and needles, not being able to move an inch of your body. Your eyelids were too heavy to keep open, weighing tons of your effort.

Of all days, you were sick.

Lord.

Releasing a cough, your hand reaches for your ringing phone. Riki, the contact label name displayed. You try to clear your throat as you answer the call, in effort to not sound as sick as possible. “Hello?” your groggy and hoarse voice could be depicted from miles away by a total stranger. Much less Nishimura Riki.

“Princess?” His voice answers through the call, perceptibly worried, “what’s wrong? You sound . . . off today.” You could tell he was squinting as he said this.

“Uh. . .” you sniffed, trying to come up of a lie, “just watched a sad film. Cried a lot.”

Riki hums, giving no humor in his voice. “Mhm. And that’s why you’re late four hours to class?”

Your stomach lurches. You were what? You had classes today, and you didn’t even remember. Were you missing on anything important in university today? Shit.

Racing for the most reasonable excuse, “I wanted to . . . enjoy a day off?” Bad liar. You were nothing but a bad liar. You were too exhausted to create a better and more creative lie.

Riki, being way too observant on things he shouldn’t be, clearly wasn’t buying it. He clicks his tongue. “I’m coming over. Don’t go anywhere. Stay in bed,” he orders you shortly before ending the call. He doesn’t scold you or lecture you, and he leaves it at that.

You moan at the surge of pain once again located in your stomach, you had no plans of leaving the bed even if you wanted to anyway, given your current state.

Riki texts you that he was outside around less than ten minutes later.

If you could complain, you’d rather have Riki come in your room to help you up. Like he always did. You found him not doing so rather odd, as he would always make the weirdest reasons to come drop by your house. Moving the slightest inch was hard as it already was.

It takes you what seems like hours for you to get out of bed, and even more for you to bag your bag and head outside. You were ready to grumble about how efficient and less painful this would’ve been if Riki had come to help you until more than one figure greets you outside your yard.

Riki and . . . hands stuffed to his pockets, head bowed - you know that side profile -Yang Jungwon?

Both stayed at opposite ends, standing in front of their cars, awaiting for you with the hardest glares sent the other’s way. What was happening? Jungwon was most likely the reason Riki wasn’t able to go inside your house to pick you up. That was the only factor that made sense - the rest was something you couldn’t connect the dots of.

Both their cars parked out of your house, and you could feel the tension slicing you in half the moment you step foot outside. These two could never stay in the same room, sticking around to wait for you was strictly meant for you.

Jungwon is the first to break the glaring match as soon as he sees you, being the first to approach you while gently holding you up.

“Love, are you okay? Let me bring you to the hospital - come on,” he pleads with you, gesturing towards his car.

“This isn’t the time to joke about something like this in her state,” Riki forces a fake smile through his gritted teeth, irritated as he sneaks his arm around your waist, holding you up himself all the better with a single hand, “just so you know.”

Jungwon’s gaze darkens, “It isn’t about fighting for who gets her, just so you know,” he mimics, “I don’t trust her with you, you dipshit.”

Riki scoffs to himself, shifting his weight as he continues to press you tightly against him, not budging an inch of you to Jungwon, “And look who came to talk.”

Jungwon opens his mouth, his eyes ruthlessly set on Riki’s before you try and weakly cut in from your lack of energy. However, your weak knees give up on you and you almost stumble down, not before both Jungwon and Riki reaches out their hand to grab your arm within half a second. Riki half-yells your name, all the more uneasy and concerned than you were.

“Y/N? Love? Are you okay?” Jungwon’s hostile tone towards Riki not seconds ago immediately dissipates, conveying his tone of worry and panic at your weak state.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Jungwon additionally suggests, trying to have you lean his weight on him for you to stand property, and in that way he could easily carry you back to his car.

“Hell no,” Riki growls, in the other hand.

You notice Jungwon’s eyes darken at the corner of your eye, “And who exactly are you to her to begin with-?”

“Her boyfriend, nice to meet you, you dipshit,” Riki retorts.

Jungwon lets out a low noise, pissed off at a topic that was seemingly sensitive to him. “Over my dead body would you ever be her boyfriend.”

He rolls his eyes in disinterest. “Still going through the stages of grief? Is this the denial stage?” he taunts, clicking his tongue with a tsk.

“Bo,” Jungwon calls you - candidly ignoring Riki’s shitty statements, but his sharp eyes never leave Riki’s, “let’s get this over with and tell us who would you want to -”

This was getting too prolonged, you were so close to vomiting again. You definitely did not want to vomit here of all places. “Riki,” you called out faintly, interrupting Jungwon, “please take me to the hospital.”

All parts of your body ached painfully, and you were too miserably ill to deal with this situation. You imagine Jungwon’s expression crumbling, deflating.

Riki straightens, visibly surprised, but he doesn’t hesitate. Not before giving Jungwon a final look, he carries you with you gently, making sure you were watching your step as the both of you left the defeated Jungwon without another word.

You were too weak to look back at Jungwon – he helplessly stares after the sight of his girl - his girl - being taken away from him when she needed help the most.

Again.

You spend three days in the hospital for a diagnosed viral infection.

Thankfully but not surprisingly, Riki stayed by your side through every minute, only leaving for a shower, buying take-out, and for getting you new packs of clothes. It was Ningning and Seoyeon who came over to take care of you during Riki’s leave.

He sticked around from the moment you were submitted, to the insertion of the IV, through your countless trips to the bathroom to puke and for him to hold your hair back, and through your dischargement.

The both of you were on your way to the car to load your things. Riki had all of his hands filled. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot, thanks for the wanton noodles,” you mention immediately as soon as you remembered, “How d’you know they were my favorite?” You don’t recall ever brining it up to Riki.

Instead of bursting up his signature winning smirk, Riki furrows his brows at you, “Wanton noodles? What wanton noodles?”

You perked up a brow, “The one you left by the door earlier when you were paying the discharge bills?”

Riki had nothing. He blinks at you as if you had been hallucinating. “Why would I leave food by the door?” he shakes his head, “Doll, what in the hell are you talking about?”

“The wanton noodles that you –“ You stop mid-sentence, freezing. Realization dawns on you then. The note, you recall as you piece things back together.

Stop skipping meals. I got you your favorite. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.

Yang Jungwon.

There was no name from who it was from, you had simply assumed it was from Riki. This wasn’t your first time realizing that Jungwon had never dropped by, you had simply figured he didn’t care. Your stomach sinks, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me’. The double implications.

Riki waves his hand in front of your face, “Earth to princess? Hello?”

Ah. Right. You blink, shaking your head – you meet his eyes with a smile, “Nothing. I just thought I remembered something.”

WEEKS LATER

Jungwon was a lot quieter than usual ever since you’d been discharged.

Since . . . the night he and Riki were there. You slightly wince at the memory.

You almost managed to successfully spend a thesis discussion with him without having to say much - to your great pleasure - until he just had to ruin it for you. He was filling in his part for the thesis paper while you were scanning through the pages of the book you were reading, skipping to the ending.

“Hey,” he starts, humor laced in his voice. “D’you still read the endings of books like you used to? I remember –“

Your head snaps up. You don’t smile. You don’t flush red in embarrassment. You don’t laugh like the way he’d expected you to. The way you always did. You stared harshly down to his eyes. It wasn’t the heart-fluttering kind - nor was it the passionate or the fierce or the loving kind of stare. No, it was a heart-piercing glare - so full of pure hatred, the kind that had his breath hitching up his throat in the worst way possible and his heart sinking into your stomach.

“Don’t.”

Ah.

No double meanings. Nothing else. The essence couldn’t be taken as a mere mistakable, conveyed with just one simple word that held the heaviest weight, yet it was enough for him to understand. He doesn't try to catch himself or his smile as it fades - along with the antagonizing agony that accompanied it.

The light in your eyes has gone.

They were so dark.

It doesn’t shine the way it used to.

He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He struggles. It takes him two more tries. Two more times of you opening and closing his mouth for him to finally unknot his tongue and drag the words to the surface.

“You have a …” he hesitates to say it, “boyfriend?”

It was so close. A few seconds until you would leave, and he just could wait. Stuffing your university belongings back into your bag, you exhaled, your lips tightening into a hard line. “What is it to you?”

A second or two passes, “Oh,” he replies, “I didn’t know, so -”

“What difference does it make?” you rhetorically question him, your patience running thin, “if you didn’t know or if you did?” You were being absurd - you knew that, but you wanted anything but the idea of having to talk about that subject with him and act like it was fine.

Being snappy at him wasn’t the greatest idea, but you know Jungwon was trying to get at somewhere. You would do whatever it took to defy him. That quiets him down, only forcing a painful nod.

You needed to leave. You couldn’t stay away from him, especially whenever he was near. God knows only a few words from Jungwon would be all it would take for him to manipulate you back into his strings.

Painful silence.

Until, “Does he make you happy?”

You find yourself freezing.

A sick feeling in your stomach.

Does he make you happy?

Happy.

Why was he asking the question like he meant it?

Your eyes flicker his way, and there is no hint of humor or taunting mock in his face. Was he serious? The man who broke you to pieces and disregarded you stood before you and asked if another man was making you happy, as if he cared. As if he ever did.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t have anything to say.

Jungwon knows that.

You try to breathe.

One.

Two.

Three.

You walk away, and he lets you. You walk away because walking away was the only thing you’ve ever done. Because walking away was the only thing you could ever do around him. Because you can’t risk another goodbye from him.

You were done gnawing back at the past.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ spring day by bts ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

AFTER THE BREAK-UP

And the both of you became back to being nothing.

Just like that.

You told him your secrets, and you let him in. All the good, all the bad. You trusted him and brought down your defenses. You let him know your weird thoughts or funny inside jokes and the deep insecurities.

But he never got to know the little things, you realize the moment it’s over. The little things that infuriated you. The little things that made you laugh. Or the little things that would always put you on a better mood - the little bits and pieces of you.

You barely got to know him at all.

Was that the reason?

Was the fact of loving him just as plainly as that - nothing more, and nothing less - the root of it all?

Or was it just the big things that held the both of you together, and the small things that caused you to fall apart?

You don’t believe it’s over.

Because it’s not.

You’ve been stuck inside the house for longer than you could count. You’ve memorized the number of tiles on the floor and seen every miniscule crack on the wall. You know how many steps it takes to walk from here to the door.

And you know just how many steps Jungwon took to leave.

Your eyes remained fixated on the door, waiting at the dining table for him to come home.

Like every other day.

He was still finding his way back home, you reminded yourself.

Busy. He’s busy.

Tick-tock.

He’s on his way.

He'll come back. He always does. He promised.

You form hundreds of thousands of excuses for him.

But the door doesn’t swing open to reveal Jungwon in all form and glory beaming down at you, apologizing, telling you that it was a mistake, telling you that he didn’t mean it. Every day is the same.

But nothing.

Nothing.

Riki knows it’s one of your days.

He reaches for your hand to grab and the fact that you have no response alone proves his assumption even further.

He doesn’t mind, Riki decides to walk you home.

You have those days where you go completely silent. Worse than ever. So quiet that he could never guess what you’re thinking or if you’d ever come back from it. Eyes empty as if there was no one home. He doesn’t know how he could help you specifically, how he could make you snap out of it.

The only thing he can do is talk. Talk and talk and talk and talk. He talks for hours about anything on the top of his head, and Riki himself is surprised he could somehow manage to not run out of topics to tell you about.

Even if you don’t respond. Not even a flicker of recognition to any of his comments or jokes.

Riki never knows what you’re thinking.

But this time, that day, he knows it’s about Jungwon.

Someone asked you about Jungwon today. How he was doing, where he is, and what happened to him. As hard as Riki would shield you away from situations such as these, it wasn’t hard enough.

Riki was so close to making you smile the other day. He was finally doing it.

And then he’s back again to square one.

After his efforts of trying to get your attention by the food stalls the both of you passed by, Riki starts to go quiet.

There is no noise - nothing between the two of yoou. Only the rustling of leaves. The cool breeze of air. The sound of footsteps on cobblestone. Cars driving by. Indistinct chatters.

“Why are you still holding on?” quietly. So quietly, but you easily catch on Riki’s question. Then your hands slightly tremble.

You don’t answer him, you’re afraid of saying too much. You’re afraid.

He never said goodbye.

That was your reason.

He never said goodbye.

Jungwon always bids you goodbye, you’d explain to Riki if you could.

What makes this time any different, right?

He won’t leave without saying goodbye. He wouldn’t. Only you could understand.

He never said goodbye.

A part of you still believed that meant he was coming back.

When Riki tries dropping by like any other day - a sneaky reason to check on you, from the start of early morning, he sees you there.

You spend the whole day stuck in the kitchen.

Riki knows what day it was without having to ask.

By the evening, you bring out the cake that you’ve been preparing for and set it down the table, in front of an empty chair. The chair you never let anyone sit on. It’s still belonged to someone else.

Riki knows who it’s for.

Your eyes are distant, as if they were caught up in a dream. Light. You were there - physically, but you were far away. Far, far away. Riki started to wonder if this was just how you were. He wondered if there was ever a time where you were really alive.

He wondered the extent to how much this guy did to break you.

Your eyes looked so empty.

But you were still holding on, weren’t you? You’ve never responded to him, but he knew. Riki made no noise, but he clenches his hands into fists. You don’t acknowledge him standing there.

You set the candles down the cake with the lighter.

You only stare at the cake, expectantly. Waiting. Waiting for someone to blow the candles off. Waiting to sing the cheerful ‘happy birthday’ song and make a wish. But it wasn’t just anyone.

He doesn’t attempt to do anything - or say anything. But he stands near close to your proximity. Watching over. Silently. He doesn’t leave you that day.

You take a seat next to the empty chair, simply and patiently letting time pass as your eyes affixed themselves with the dancing fire.

Until the candles blow out themselves hours later from the cold air.

That night, Riki also knew who it was for when he heard your uncontrolled crying and broken whimpers pass from your room for the first time.

There was a period wherein you stopped leaving the house entirely. And Riki stopped pushing you to.

Everything reminds you of him.

The house has never felt so big.

Alone.

You miss the way he smells.

The overbearing feelings starts to compress, and you feel it expanding within your chest. It gets hard to breathe. You feel helpless.

Jungwon won’t like it if he sees you like this, wouldn’t he?

You keep reminding yourself.

He might come in any second, and you wanted to be at your best.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry.

You won’t cry.

You’d make it up to him.

You don’t want it to end.

He’ll come back.

You don’t know how many months it has been.

That’s a lie. You do.

You find one of the notes he wrote for you in an old shoe box.

It reminds you that what you had was real, that what you had wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. It wasn’t a dream.

You picked up the first letter, your fingers tracing through his handwriting.

It was painful. A shard of glass piercing through your skin.

To my one and only girl,

You couldn’t breathe.

It was merely the first line of the long letter, and you couldn’t breathe.

This time, you don’t pretend to forget that you aren’t Jungwon’s anymore. You don’t pretend that this was all a phase. A nightmare. A joke.

This time, you don’t pretend to wait at the living room for him to come back home, swinging the door open with a grin and greeting you from a long day like he used to. Not anymore. Even if you had so much to tell him. So much news to show off to him. So much news to be happy for. To celebrate. But you weren’t.

This time, you almost suffocate.

You torture yourself even more this time. You open the letter again and it rips your heart out. It stabs you and leaves you bleeding. You read the last line. Sealed with a promise. A broken promise that meant nothing now.

I’ll make you the happiest girl, I promise. I love you :)

You could imagine his cheeky smile as he wrote this, sealing the promise - among with every other one that he’s made. Every single one that he didn’t claim responsibility for.

Liar.

He was a liar.

He was reckless and a liar.

He broke you to the point where you couldn’t even manage to bring yourself to say his name.

You wish you were brave enough.

What a fool you were.

A dumb, useless fool.

“Kant’s metaphysics?” Riki answers, lying on the edge of your bed. He lounges carelessly with a review paper clutched on his left hand.

You rest a hand on your hip, pacing around your room. “No, but you’re somewhat close. It’s categorical imperative.” You corrected, recalling your philosophy lesson by memory through mentally singing a tune to yourself.

The philosophy oral examination was this coming Thursday that next week. It was Saturday. Riki complained, saying he needed help and tutoring, and you, other than staying cooped up at home debating your life choices and burying yourself in academics, there wasn’t really anything else you did.

He squints his eyes in confusion, “But how does that relate to the second follow up question after that?” you pause, staring hard at the desk beside you to remember the answer, you take minutes - but nothing.

You run a hand through your hair, visibly frustrated and stressed. You had all the more topics to go through. Hell, you had to go through the whole book and you couldn’t get past the second lesson yet.

Releasing an exhale, you shut your eyes tightly. Shit. Shit.

Jungwon always knew what to do. He knew how to calm you down and rile you up and make you laugh right after like he was born with it. He’d drop everything at the sight of you overthinking and over-stressing school work, embracing you and telling you that you didn’t have to worry. That he was there. He’d let you cry it out, vent out your frustration and stay by your side through it all, running a hand through your hair soothingly to comfort you.

He knew exactly how to take care of you.

You need him.

You needed him.

Just for this moment.

How much longer?

Biting down your lower lip forcefully, you chant the words over and over again.

He’s not coming back.

You know he’s not coming back.

You know.

You’re back to pacing across your room, back and fourth. ‘”I don’t know, I really -” you cut yourself off, irritated. At this point, you’re ready to erupt from the heavy weight of his absence. At this point, you want to drop to the floor and stop time to give yourself a breath.

Riki has sat up at this point, silently watching you. He’s probably either thinking that you were worrying and stressing over the amount of workload given to you like the usual. Or, does he know that academics isn’t what you were worrying about at all at that moment?

You try to level your breathing.

Come back.

Jungwon, please.

Come back to me.

To: won 😚🙄

[03:46am] you: hi i’m graduating this wednesday. i’d really like it if you could drop by.

error. message undelivered. try again?

[03:50am] you: hey did you know my graduation is nearing?? haha you should come :)

error. message undelivered. try again?

[05:18am] you: jungwon

[05:18am] you: are you there?

[05:19am] you: you’re gone and i really need you.

message sent.

do you want to delete this message?

message successfully deleted.

Contact user: [ENTER]

Contact: yang jungwon

by pressing [Confirm] you are allowing the name changes to be saved.

changes saved.

“The sun’s so clear out. Lighten up, princess ~” a voice calls you out of your thoughts and you realize you were trapped in a dream.

Identifying reality with dreams seemed entirely difficult to you. There was something fiction in the way reality was going to you.

Reality was as crazy as dreams were.

“Your moping is bad for my skin,” Riki comments lightheartedly, scrunching up his nose.

It’s been a week or so since he came along. Since he bumped into you and started to grow interest towards you. You don’t ask him, and you don’t really care. Nothing that every happens around you matters to you as much anymore.

You only blink in regard to him. That was more than a sign of acknowledging his presence that he was used to.

Riki is used to this. He doesn’t mid this type of behavior, nor did he expect anything else. He self-proclaimed himself as your guardian angel – two days after he’d met you – who’d look after you “since you lack the ability to look after yourself” end quote. Which was true. You couldn’t look after yourself. Especially due to the past circumstances that he pieced together himself.

You were probably someone’s ex-girlfriend.

To him, Y/N was a detached-from-reality schoolmate of his who was definitely more than what meets the eye.

You were someone he wanted to get to know, until you stopped becoming that person, one day.

Until you became someone he wanted to protect.

Sliding himself into the seat next to yours, he pouts at you. “Y’know . . . I think it’s time for you to . . move on,” he struggles finding the right word for it. You know it takes a lot in him to try and be gentle, as he probably would’ve been teasing you with a bunch of insults.

Your throat encloses, and you feel like burning up.

Moving on meant accepting that he was gone. Gone from your life. Accepting a future without him, and that wasn’t something you were ever going to be ready to do.

He was long gone.

Jungwon was long gone.

The magic you once felt with him wasn’t there anymore.

He wasn’t there anymore.

And neither were you.

Waiting for someone is painful.

Letting go from someone is painful, too.

But not knowing whether to wait for someone or let him go?

It hurts more than anything.

You were out inside the bathroom for the first time in hours since you’ve left your seat from blankly staring at your phone.

It was all pure coincidence when Nishimura Rik stumbles upon the open phone screen that you’ve been torturing yourself endlessly with.

It was all pure coincidence.

And coincidence just happened to align with his curiosity.

you: S.O.S. [7 hours ago]

you: come back [7 hours ago]

[Read]

Riki doesn’t have to read the contact name to see who it was.

It must be Riki’s professional job; being the only one around able to spot where you are when you suddenly disappear from the face of the earth.

“Princess?” Riki finally finds you along the benches, alone. He figures it weird, he’s not exactly sure what you were doing there exactly.

Until he sees your face. Your tear-stained cheeks.

Ah.

“It hurts.” Out of nowhere. He has never prepared himself for this. Your voice cracks a bit, “Riki, it hurts.” You plead with him as if he power to take it all away. Small. Helpless. That was what you sounded like.

He offers his open arms to you, and you bury yourself in them. He lifts you up from the darkness, even if it was just by a centimeter.

“I’m in so much pain, can you stop it?” you tell him in a managed whisper, your voice hoarse.

He’s afraid anything he’d say would only break you even further. He only hugs you tighter.

Fuck, why did he give too many shits about you? This wasn’t the least like him at all. What in the world have you managed to do to Nishimura Riki? He stares at you, not being able to do anything.

“Why does it hurt so much?” a small vulnerable child whimpering in pain – pain they were forced to believe was their fault. That was how you sounded.

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s frozen, in fact. “Riki I want to –“ you pause, trying to start again, “I’m tired,” you struggle with your words, your eyes closed shut, “Please make it stop.”

His eyes flicker.

Please make it stop.

Riki isn’t much of a person who really cared about anyone else’s business. He never poked his nose around because he never bothered enough to. Everyone was black and white to him.

You were a quite peculiar one to him, though. It drove him crazy, what was so good about you? You were clearly dead hungover your past ex. Barely talked. Barely did anything, at all.

But he saw the most beautiful and vibrant colors when he looked at you in the whole life that he’s been walking around colorblind to any other.

He was just being pulled down deeper.

For the first time, all Riki wanted from someone was just their happiness. Purely. Passionately. Their happiness for his happiness. He just wanted you . . .

He just wanted you.

Nishimura Riki is done for.

If this was what he thinks it is, he’s done for. Because Riki was ready to be anyone you wanted him to be.

You gave be something I’ve never had, he wants to tell you. And I have nothing special to give you - but I will give you everything I have.

He doesn’t break promises. Especially if it’s you.

Riki will mend what was broken.

Whatever it takes.

One step at a time.

He was getting himself into the biggest mistake in his life, God, he sure as hell knew that. But Riki was never going to regret what was to come.

He was going to make it stop. All of it.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

PART TWO

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aajjks · 7 months

Note

heyy I lovee your yandre noona x jk fics like LOVE LOVE LOVE AND LITERALLY LIVE FOR IT. I was wondering if you could do a request on jk being “you’re the most jealous woman i know” and she is like “you know other women?” pretty please?🫶

warnings. JÊÂLÖÜSY, YÄNDÊRÊ NÖÖNÄ, dèspèrätè kôô, crÿïng

note. This is your guys’ cue to send in Yandere noona asks. ;)

As much as he loves you

This is getting ridiculous.

You have stopped talking to him you don’t even look at him you are starting to avoid him, and that is fucking with his mind.

It wasn’t even his fault he didn’t deserve his punishment, he is a good boy. He’s always your good boy, and he always wants to keep you happy.

He was just doing what any good human would do, and that was being polite to his neighbors. But that backfired on him.

He has pissed you off.

“Noona please talk to me. I think I will go and see if you don’t even look at me anymore for even a second.” he’s on his knees looking at you desperately his eyes are filled with glossy tears, but he’s holding them back

He just wants you to look at him and talk to him that’s all he wants.

And he’s willing to do anything, but you are so hard to read. Your face is empty without any emotion. Your eyes are empty, everything about you is so hard to read. You have your hands crossed across your chest and your lips are shut tightly in a straight line.

“Just talk to me once! yell at me! do anything, but just look at me!” Jungkooks voice shakes, his nails, dig into your skin, but you don’t budge.

“Look I am sorry OK I shouldn’t have let her in.. fuck I hate her so much she always wanted to ruin everything between us… noona!!!!!”

His voice is getting louder and louder with each word that comes out of his mouth, but your silence is the loudest sound in the room.

“I will never ever let her in I swear I WILL LITERALLY AVOID HER LIKE SHE DOESN’T EXIST. I HAVE LEARNED MY LESSON. NOONA… I cannot see you ignoring me… talk to me. I miss you so much it’s been a week it’s been so many days…”

Jungkooks knees are starting to hurt, but he cannot get up right now not until you forgive him, it has been like three hours, he has really upset you hasn’t he?

“Noona I love you so much I can never even dream about another woman that’s not you, but you have to understand that I was just being nice I just was talking to her. I didn’t know her intentions…. I didn’t know that she was trying to do something if I had known I would’ve put her in her place immediately…” he lets out every word from his mouth with sincerity with regret.

He hates that blonde girl so much.

He doesn’t even remember her name.

Can’t you Even look at me?” he cries, and lets his tears fall.

He feels so suffocated right now, it’s like his whole world is silence, because you are his whole world.

“Noona I am so sorry I am so sorry I am so sorry. I am so sorry. FUCK I AM SORRY..”

He doesn’t know what to do anymore. He’s tried screaming, crying and begging, but nothing is working.

“Noona… you are seriously the most jealous woman I know.”

He doesn’t think before he speaks, and let’s it out, his tongue speaks out before he can even register his words, but they take your attention, and you tilt your head and look at him.

Jungkook cries out of relief.

But that relief dies down soon when he sees you at him like he’s the most disgusting creature in the world.

What did you say? Huh?”

Your voice is like an eargasm for his ears. But Panic sets in his chest bubbling up.

you look like you want to kill him.

Well, as long as you’ll touch him, he would die from your hands.

“I-I said that I love you and I am sorry, noona- shhh.” You put a finger up on his mouth. He has no choice, but to shut up.

“you know other women?”

Jungkook lets out a scream of frustration and starts to cry, banging his head on your lap.

“OH MY GOD NO I DON’T. I ONLY KNOW YOU AND I AM SORRY.. your jealousy is so hot but insane at the same time..”

“please believe me, you’re the only woman for me.. only woman in my heart, and in my brain, and in my soul.”

#yandere bts #smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #hybrid bts #hybrid jungkook #hybrid!bts #hybrid!jungkook #yandere jungkook #bts smut

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agendabymooner · 8 months

Text

time to rock and roll || fa14 fic (1)

THE BREAKUP AND MAKEUP DUOLOGY — PART ONE

“when will you learn? i’m the queen and i’ll put you in your place.”

Summary: It was 2007, and Fernando Alonso had to learn the hard way that his ego and pride were getting in the way of the love that he built up with the recently-retired professional wrestler Trish Staedtlander. OR the 2007 Canadian GP left Trish no choice but to put on a brave face and show nothing but indifference. It’s safe to say that Fernando’s pride was immediately humbled by her words and impassive expressions as he begged her to come back.

Content warning: 2007 McLaren driver!Fernando, mentions the spygate scandal, exes-to-lovers trope(ish), use of explicit language, poorly Apple-translated Spanish dialogues, platonic!Lewis Hamilton x OFC, brief Jenson Button x OFC content, mentions brief alcohol consumption, jealous!Fernando, 6300+ words of nonsense.

Note: I cannot believe I have returned to my Nando fucker phase. Enjoy xx

masterlist

“¡Si así es como funciona, entonces me voy! Feliz jodido aniversario para ti.” If this is how it works, then I’m leaving! Happy fucking anniversary to you.

“Vuelve, Trisha,” Come back, Trisha. Fernando sighed exasperatedly.

“No, Fernando,” Beatrice Staedtlander was a force to be reckoned with. With enough time and money, she could do whatever with her life— yet she had chosen him. She expressed her feelings towards travelling with him, telling him that out of those 52 weekends of a year, she only had him for less than a half.

He wasn’t keen on the idea of taking her to every race. The worst part about this was that he decided to turn her down at their second anniversary— three weeks or so after she initially proposed the idea of being around him more often through a call.

Was it because of the grid girls? She asked herself. Because she was certain that she could take it. She fought against the most attractive women in the wrestling industry before, hell she was declared the poster girl for all of them. She definitely had no problem— knowing that she was the one that the Fernando Alonso would come home to.

She tried to explain to him that she was fine with any kind of issues that may come as they travel. She could adjust for him. But that wasn’t why he kept rejecting her.

He could have simply said that he didn't want to be angry at her if he had lost. It was much better to cool off on the flight back to Canada instead of having her witness him in the worst way possible. He could have said all of that, but all he said was that he didn’t want any distraction.

Was that what he really thought of her? All those times she had been with him and he’d be reading something while she spoke… is she just a distraction? Seventeen weekends to compete and another twenty to prepare for the season and all she was to him was something to fill up his schedule?

She really shouldn’t have flown to England for this. She could have just left him working at the McLaren headquarters for his break until the next race.

“I’m going home,” she told him firmly, her voice shaky as she stood there. Her hand gripped the handle of her suitcase as she spewed out, “17 weekends are what I always miss, Fernando, and twenty of those you’re always working or out— so if I’m just a distraction then I’ll make sure to make the rest of your 15 weeks as peaceful as they can be. I don’t want to see you so please don’t come to my house.”

She slammed the door on him and left as soon as she hailed a cab— it took her three minutes to do all of that. Yet it took Fernando five minutes to catch up with her but she was nowhere close to him. She wasn’t in the lobby nor outside waiting for a taxi.

She already left.

“I shouldn’t have retired early.” “You had a bad injury last year, you had to retire early.”

“How do I unlearn Spanish?” “Don’t speak it.”

“Seriously, I really would just like to stay at home and not be here,” Trish whined, playing with the ice on her empty glass. “I’m not fully miserable, guys. Why am I having some sort of intervention?”

“Psh,” Amy scoffed. “I just watched you eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s for an hour straight while you’re watching Dirty Dancing. It’s been exactly what— seven weeks since you broke up with him. You need the intervention, trust me.”

“I think it’s very brave of you to break up with him,” Jay told her with a slight shrug. Of course he would say that— they’ve dated for three months and Jay constantly flirted with her even after she began seeing Fernando. “Look, maybe if you try to attend the Grand Prix tomorrow you’ll have some sort of closure. You’ll see his face and realize that you deserve better than someone who only cares for you if it’s convenient.”

“I’m not going to fucking go— thank you,” Trish nodded at the server who walked away after giving her the second glass of rum and coke. Sipping on it, she found herself being stared at by her best friends. “I don’t even know why I decided to go to Montreal of all places! I could have gone to Banff for a vacation instead.”

“Because there’s a part of you that wants to support him,” Amy said. “He sent those passes to you in hopes that maybe you’ll watch him race.”

“Tried telling him that before,” Trish huffed out petulantly, “look where that got me.”

“He probably didn’t mean it,” Jay tried to reason out, leaving the blonde to glare at him. She had heard that pathetic excuse before, and she wasn’t about to hear that when defending what she thought was the love of her life. Jay caught the look in her face and grimaced, “Okay, poor excuse, sorry— but maybe there are some things that he hadn’t said?”

“Did he ring you or something?” Beatrice raised a brow.

Jay shook his head slightly, “No, but you’ve seen the man. Does he look like the type to ditch you because he’s looking for something new or something?”

“Yes,” Amy and Trish answered, both looking at the only man at the table.

Amy looked at Trish, “But Trish, come on, how bad could it be? We only have two days to watch— the chances of seeing him may be slim. Plus, we can pull some strings from Stephanie and maybe get some extra privileges that come with the pass?”

“I do like the sound of that,” Jay nodded. “Talk to the McMahons. Probably find a way to get out of the McLaren area?”

“Yeah, I’ll call Steph or something. If not, I'm sure Shane would be generous enough to get us some other paddock passes,” Amy stood up and reached for her phone, flipping it open to contact their former employer’s daughter. She walked away from their booth.

Trish sighed and realized that her drink was empty.

“She’s not calling Shane right? Like my ex, son of my boss Shane just so I can see my other ex race?” Trish asked Jay with a ridiculing face, leaving the other Canadian to shrug his shoulders.

She wished she hadn’t gone to Montreal because she could feel his presence regardless of which part of the city he was in. Those weeks of being alone were hellish, if you were to ask them.

Everyone had taken notice of the model-turned-wrestler-turned-legend when she, alongside her former coworkers, arriving at the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve.

It was surprising, to say the least; she assumed that with what she was wearing - a low rise jeans with her custom buckled belt and some tight white tees - she wouldn’t have stuck out. She wasn’t sure if it was the buckle that caught everyone’s attention - or maybe it was the cowboy hat that she wore in the colour of McLaren. But everyone saw her and had taken photos left and right.

Jay and Amy had also signed some things — seeing as the three of them were to become legends of WWE. They’ve gone around the grid and talked to people. Team principals were rather glad to see the three of them, telling the trio that they made a good impression as professional wrestlers during the Attitude Era.

The three tried to cut the conversations short, not wanting to withhold the staff’s attention to their own racing teams.

Trish dreaded going to the McLaren area, not wanting to see her lover, Fernando, and feeling like she was imposing once more. Like he said, she was just a distraction… so she saw no reason why she should see his team before the qualifying. Her feet were backing off and she was ready to walk away.

She would have gone had it been for a young Lewis Hamilton who caught a glimpse of the Canadian wrestler. He was quick to reach out to her.

“H- Miss Stratus!” He greeted her, nervousness written all over his face but he smiled nonetheless. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. My name is Lewis Hamilton.”

Trish quickly recognized the name, “Ah yes! It is very nice to meet you, Hamilton. You’re extremely impressive you know? I’ve watched the races from the television and you’ve got a lot of potential. It’s too bad I’ve never seen you race in person ‘til now.”

“That’s a lot of compliment coming from you,” Lewis chuckled meekly, “and you’re the one to talk. You’ve been an amazing wrestler and character during your active years. Some may think that your championships were nothing but a joke but I think they were rather fitting for your character.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, “when someone tries to bring you down, it’s just easier for you to either ignore them or eat up the attention.”

“And you chose the latter,” Lewis laughed.

“And I chose the latter,” Trish nodded. “As much as I’d like to keep talking I think I’m gonna have to cut the conversation short. I'd hate to impose and distract you—“

“Nonsense!” Lewis insisted, “Alonso’s been looking for you since we arrived a few days ago. I think he was worried you weren’t coming this weekend—“

“What?” Trish interfered, disbelief written in her face as she tried to comprehend what was just said.

Fernando’s looking for her and he’s scared she wouldn’t come.

Her lover had always been confident, some people thought of his personality as something more boastful and egotistical. She always loved that he could get self-assured at times, and that he would often infect her with the same energy until she was at the same level of confidence as him.

But even his fears could get irrational.

Sure, the breakup became the talk of the month or whatever (so far there had been ten magazines that had written about it), but not once did he allow any personal problem to get in the way of his racing. Whatever happened in the tracks, he’d make sure to address it, but he would never jeopardize his race just because he had an argument with his parents prior to the competition.

So his fear of her not being there? Trish was sure that he wouldn’t allow that to get in the way of his world drivers’ championship.

“Yeah, really,” Lewis nodded in confirmation. “I know he had flown out his mother from Spain too, seeing as this was your country and all. Mrs. Alonso keeps telling me that Fernando’s been keeping you from her so she just decided to come here for you.”

Okay, maybe there was a reason why he was scared. But they’ve broken up, have they not? It’s been nearly two months, why hadn’t he told Mrs. Alonso about their breakup? Perhaps she found out already, she probably just wanted to see Trish and possibly bitch-slap the Canadian. Maybe.

“Right,” Trish nodded. “I’ll see him around eventually. Maybe you can let her know I’m here? I’ve got to get back to my friends before the qualifying.”

“No problem, Miss Stratus!” Lewis grinned.

“Beatrice,” Trish told him, “call me Beatrice or Trish. Miss Stratus makes it sound like I’m old or something.”

“Alright… Trish,” Lewis chuckled. “I’ll pass the message to her for you. Hope you find your friends before it gets even worse in the paddock.”

“Thank you so much, Lewis,” Trish smiled softly at the man. “Good luck on your qualifying. Try to aim for the pole.”

“I’ll work hard enough!” Lewis bid his farewell to Trish before returning to the garage. Turning away, Trish kept a small smile on her face before she set off to find Amy and Jay. There was a lot for her to say about what she just found out.

“HOLY SHIT! HAMILTON’S AT POLE!” Jay screamed, his mouth gaping as he turned to look at his friends with widened eyes. The shared flabbergasted look on Amy and Trish’s faces matched with the man as they yelled excitedly, trying not to jump up and down in joy.

“He’s fucking pole tomorrow!” Trish yelled, grin widening even more as she shook Jay’s shoulders.

“…I think you should be more excited for something else, Beatrice,” Amy poked Trish on the side, making the Canadian turn around to face her best friend. Amy pointed at the screen, all of them watching as a checkered flag was displayed next to Fernando’s name and his final qualification time showing up next to the second one. “Nando’s at P2 tomorrow.”

Trish’s smile faltered for a moment, taking in the information as her chest swelled with pride. Her mouth returned to its curled position. She turned around to celebrate Hamilton’s pole position for a literal second and her man came running to retrieve the second position. Talk about a win.

Before they could even leave the McLaren’s hospitality they were approached by a media relations member to let them know about being interviewed. It wasn’t as if they could get out of that duty— Martin Brundle would most likely be the one to approach them if they hadn’t been notified and if there was anything Trish had learned it was that you don’t simply walk away from him.

“Trish, this is the first time I have seen you since last year’s Canadian Grand Prix,” Martin started once he introduced the three. “With what’s happening between you and a certain McLaren driver, or what even happened, how do you feel being in the circuit?”

“Well, I am quite excited for tomorrow. Seeing McLaren with a pole and a second position made me feel so giddy,” Trish grinned. She wasn’t lying, but she didn’t mention him nor the comment that Martin made about their famous break up.

“Rumour has it that you weren’t planning to go this year,” Martin asked her.

Amy decided to answer for Trish, “She wasn’t supposed to. She didn’t want to, I mean. And I know that this had been her tradition since she got her what— fifth— sixth Women’s Championship title?”

“Fifth,” Jay piped up, “if it’s 2005, yeah it’s fifth.”

“Yeah, so this was something that she had been doing since 2005 and if there’s anything that I knew since working with her was that she doesn’t like to skip out of certain traditions. We had to drag her ass out of Toronto a few days ago because well, we didn’t want to waste the passes given to us by a generous driver,” Amy continued, smirking towards Trish’s direction. The Canadian shot her best friend a look.

“Quite the generous driver, indeed,” Martin said, “have you three congratulated him by chance?” At least the man wasn’t singling her out now.

“We have not,” Jay answered, “we were planning to call it an early evening after we speak to their team principal however—“

Meanwhile, next to the trio stood Lewis Hamilton, who was being interviewed as well. He spoke about landing on the pole and how confident he was tomorrow.

Trish thought she misheard what he said as he continued, “I’ve seen Trish Stratus earlier. Trish told me today that I should get the pole position, and obviously being one of my favourite wrestlers and all— I can’t disappoint her.”

“She’s just right next to you actually,” Lewis’ interviewer pointed, making the cameraman pan his camera towards the wrestler who then turned only to see Lewis and the camera in her direction.

“Oh Lewis!” Trish exclaimed, interrupting the conversation between Amy, Jay and Martin as she apologized meekly, “Sorry, Martin. I’ll just move aside for a moment to speak to Lewis.”

Then she walked three steps towards the driver, “Can I give you a hug? Congratulations!”

Lewis took that friendly offer as he grinned, finally pulling away as he said, “Thank you, thank you! We were actually just talking about you and how you told me to get the pole position.”

“And clearly Lewis fulfilled it,” Trish giggled, clapping him on the back. “It’s going to be really exciting to see you tomorrow. And I’ve heard this is your first pole?”

“It is, it is,” Lewis nodded eagerly.

“God, I am so happy for you, Lew!” Trish exclaimed.

“And what do you think about McLaren getting another higher position on the grid tomorrow with Fernando Alonso getting a P2?” The interviewer asked, making the wrestler pause for a moment. Her face remained impassive, not wanting to give the papers more things to write about.

Her quick thinking, thankfully, led her to respond with, “I have always been supportive of each driver and just like the previous races, I never failed to believe that Fernando Alonso would be able to make it in the top ten. Each race that I have been to— I rarely go now— always has the same result with him being successful one way or another.” It was so nice having a media relations manager in WWE. At least she knew how to respond without losing her shit at people who kept on bringing up her ex.

“Do you think that his success in the races you make your appearance in would have to do something with you?” The woman across from the British and Canadian continued to ask, a smile on her face was rather genuine— if you would ask Trish. It was as if they were asking about a romance that had somehow brightened up the racing and wrestling community’s images.

Everyone did tell her and Fernando that while their relationship was made public they somehow managed to show genuineness instead of the fake smiles and pretentious display of affection.

So it never hurt for Trish to reminisce no matter what their situation was now. Trish answered the interviewer and said, “You know… that’s something that isn’t up to me. I know for a fact that Fernando was always made for this sport so me being there wouldn’t change a thing. I could be gone now and he’d still land in P2, you know?”

Amy: Gone down to the bar downstairs. Raikkonen and Button r here. R u coming?

Beatrice: No, too tired. Enjoy though xx

Her room telephone started ringing by the time she shut her phone close, groaning as she glared at the direction of the phone. There was too much to unpack after arriving from the venue that she scolded herself for staying a little longer at the McLaren garage.

Somehow she found a reason why Fernando refused to take her to the races. Being told that she was some distraction did hurt— but being left in the dark about what could potentially jeopardize his career was another. IFinding out about the information from Ferrari being passed to McLaren left a distasteful feeling on her mouth. She never wanted to take back her words of praise from earlier until now.

All the more reason to avoid Fernando right?

Right. But he was determined to make things right for them.

When Trish answered the phone she initially thought that it was either Jay or Amy, exclaiming, “What? I texted you alr—“

“Trish, hija!” The voice on the other side of the call silenced the Canadian, feeling too stunned and unable to speak for a moment as the sweet voice continued, “¿Te parece bien que hable español?” Is it okay if I speak Spanish?

Trish swallowed the lump on her throat and stammered, “Sí, por supuesto, señora Alonso.” Yes, of course, Mrs. Alonso.

“Hace tiempo que no sé nada de ti, mi amor. ¿Cómo has estado?” I have not heard from you for a while now, my love. How have you been? God, those words were angelic. For it to come from her lover’s mother was a blessing that was hard to believe.

Fernando’s mother had always expressed her fondness for the woman. Whenever Trish flew to Spain for holidays— all of which were spent with Fernando— his mother would always make sure that the Canadian had everything she needed. She even taught the younger woman a lot about Spanish culture. Needless to say, Mrs. Alonso enjoyed Trish’s company and vice versa.

“Ah, ha sido duro, pero estoy trabajando duro para pasar el día.” It’s been rough but I’m working hard to push through the day. Trish felt herself smiling before it fell off and asked, “If you do not mind me asking… How did you find my hotel room number?”

“Espero que no te importe, pero Nando ha sido muy reservado sobre ti últimamente. No me gusta ser entrometido, pero si significa para mí hablar contigo, entonces encontraré algo de sus cosas que me lleve a ti.” I hope you don’t mind, but Nando has been very secretive about you lately. I don’t like being nosy but if it means for me to speak to you then I’ll find something from his things that’ll get me to you.

Trish nearly laughed at this. Mrs. Alonso, whenever the couple were miles apart, would take it upon herself to talk in the background and join in at the conversation held between Fernando and Trish. She was rather dedicated to keeping her relationship alive with Trish and the younger woman appreciated that.

“¿Te parece bien si cenamos esta noche? Solo tú y yo, Fernando no estará allí.” Is it okay if we have dinner tonight? It’s just me and you— Fernando will not be there. Mrs. Alonso’s voice sounded more like a plea than it was a suggestion. “Tell me everything that happened.”

And who was Trish to say no? After all, she was the Alonso that Trish liked the most— not that she would ever tell Fernando that. There’s got to be at least something to lie to him about. Especially when he’d done it multiple times.

Their dinner wasn’t tense at all. It was as if they’d forgotten about Fernando for a moment as they chatted away, exchanging their thoughts on the current events and laughing about whatever.

Beatrice wasn’t too keen on telling Mrs. Alonso about the silliest things, but the older woman was a woman of detail. She needed to know how their relationship came to an end so easily. And instead of fighting back on it, Beatrice’s shoulders dropped as she started to tell Mrs. Alonso about what had happened weeks ago.

“We’ve been together for years,” Beatrice said, dropping her hands to avoid playing with her food. She offered a rueful smile to the older woman. “Me hizo sentir como si fuera una carga.” He made me feel like a burden.

Mrs. Alonso sighed quietly, unable to speak on behalf of her son. Fernando should be the one who would own up to his bullshit, and the pride that he carried within him hindered almost every good thing ahead of him. One of them being Trish. Mrs. Alonso figured that her son bringing his girlfriend along on a trip to Spain for holidays was a sign of love he could offer.

But hearing about how he exploded and called her an inconvenience? Fernando couldn’t be more wrong and stupid. Even Mrs. Alonso called him that.

He wouldn’t take Beatrice back home in Spain if she was just another woman to string along. He wouldn’t have lasted for two years in their relationship if he thought that Beatrice wasn’t the woman he wanted to marry. He hadn’t sat her down for three hours while drinking a bottle of wine, teaching her how to speak in Spanish at an intermediate level, just to toss her aside once he got her body trembling.

A non-committal person would do things like that. But Fernando was in love with Beatrice. He’d see the grid girls wink and even put their hands on him, but not once did he ever try to get a taste of infidelity. He wasn’t like that.

It baffled Mrs. Alonso to no end, but at least she expressed her empathy for the younger woman while telling Trish that she’d have a word with her son.

Fernando was an idiot, and Mrs. Alonso was going to remind him how idiotic he could get.

It wasn’t Fernando’s weekend this weekend, but it was Lewis Hamilton’s.

And Trish couldn’t be happier for the young British driver. She spoke to him before his race about keeping his pole position all throughout the race. Then she told him that he’s becoming her favourite driver in the grid (which was true). Lewis Hamilton merely grinned and told her that, “I’ll make you even prouder then, hm?”

And proud, she was. The moment he got an opportunity to be away from the media people, Trish didn’t take her time to drag Amy and Jay to find the man of the night. The Canadian merely rattled off at how exciting the race was for them as they were rooting for Hamilton. Lewis exchanged words and said something like, “I was nervous! I honestly thought I was going to fuck up at some point but no. I didn’t want you to see me race for the first time and watch me be shit at it.”

Their conversation was cut short when he was pulled away by his press officer. Lewis had to beg his press officer to pause for a moment before giving the three a heads up about a party to celebrate his win. Trish hadn’t even realized what she agreed on, waving him off and nodding as if to tell him that he needed to go. He took this as a yes to the invitation. So when she received a text from him (when he took her number) about the details of the party, she only turned to her friends and said, “I hope you’ve got some nice clothes.”

Being invited to a party wasn’t on their agenda. She thought of staying for two or more days in Montreal to visit the basilica and cathedral church— and maybe she’d check out a farmers market and see if they’ve got a stall of local distilleries. So to be a guest of this race weekend’s winner? She was more popular than some of them yet she was worried about how atrocious she looked.

She really lucked out when she managed to pull a going out top from her suitcase. A halter neck handkerchief top was what her eyes had settled on. Blue sequins were shining as she continued to hold it under her room’s light. She didn’t waste any time and prepared to go out tonight with her friends— and her new one, Lewis.

As soon as she arrived with the two, her eyes scanned the place. The dance floor wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t crowded either. She saw Lewis by the dance floor and had chatted with him for a moment before she waved at him, telling him to enjoy his night. She immediately went straight to the bar and ordered a martini.

Her eyes couldn’t help but wander, watching as bodies sucked in the air of freedom and happiness on the dance floor. She could see nothing but enjoyment, one that she craved the most after all those weeks of crying over some man.

Her gaze shifted to a rather expensive space inside the club. She could see a VIP booth full of familiar faces— those that she saw while she walked around the paddock. If everyone were here, as Lewis had told her, then that meant…

“My, my,” she turned away from the VIP table back to the direction of the entrance, finding herself face to face with Jenson Button. He leaned against the bar counter and offered her a smirk. “Aren’t you a beautiful sight to see.”

Thanking the bartender, she sipped on her martini with a scoff and asked, “Did that ever work on the girls you wanted to bed?”

He chuckled heartily, shaking his head as he sipped on his drink — rum and coke. “No,” he teased, “it didn’t work on you, clearly.”

Her face flushed before she turned away for a moment, hearing him laugh at the embarrassment that she felt.

Regaining her composure, Beatrice looked back at Jenson.

She knew that he was joking, but she had heard a lot about the grid singles; they were all trying to gain her attention when she attended the Grand Prix two years ago. Even now, there were still some drivers that were attracted to her. Jenson Button had an underlying problem and it was that his joke was half serious.

She cleared her throat and pointed at the glass in his hand, “Fifth drink?”

Jenson shook his head, “First.”

“I don’t blame you,” raising her martini, she responded with a nod before tipping the drink over her open mouth. The burning sensation down her throat left her hissing quietly, making her companion chuckle in amusement. “It’s nice to know you get off at the sight of a woman in pain.”

His chuckle turned into a snicker as his shoulders shook. He then continued to joke along with her, “Not your thing? We can always compromise.”

She bursted out of laughter, the burning feeling long gone as she exchanged words with him at the bar.

What she hadn’t seen, though, was a quiet Fernando. He was sat at the end of the booth, the dimly lit area hiding the deadly stare that he held while Beatrice and Jenson laughed at whatever the fuck they were talking about.

And as if God was laughing at him, the speakers were playing a remix of Beyoncé’s Irreplaceable. The song mocked Fernando’s vulnerable state.

“I can have another you in a minute, matter of fact he’ll be here in a minute.”

He didn’t know how long he kept his gaze on the same place, or how many drinks Trish had while he zoned out. He shook himself out of his thoughts when Nico Rosberg called him, asking if he’d heard what the German just said. He only nodded but somehow he ended up being roped into a short conversation. He lost sight of her.

“Baby I don’t give a damn, I know your man’s nowhere in sight.”

Kimi Raikkonen, who had downed four shots of tequila throughout the night, decided that it was the right time to speak. He wolf-whistled as he peered over Fernando’s shoulders, his eyes squinting as he watched the dance floor. “Look at that. Jenson lied about being shit at dancing.”

“And your eyes don’t tell a lie.”

Fernando’s head snapped at the direction where Kimi pointed and his eyes narrowed at the sight. It wasn’t a pleasant sight for him.

Because she was his woman. Not anyone else’s. Not Jenson’s.

But with their dire situation, Fernando couldn’t call her his woman. She was single. So he painfully watched Beatrice’s face inching towards Jenson’s.

The BAR-Honda driver’s hands were touching her hips as if he was holding a steering wheel. She smiled at him as if she liked it; Fernando knew she loved how his bigger hands gently rested on her waist whenever he’d sneak up behind her as she made their cups of coffee. Trish didn’t like how Jenson held her. Fernando just knew.

“I know you wanna come with me tonight.”

Right. That was it.

Fernando cleared his throat and stood, wordlessly walking away from the booth as he marched his way towards the two. His hand dragged her away from the British man, his face seething while Trish protested. She could’ve just pulled away because of how little force he had on his hold.

Instead she just followed along as they ended up in a quieter area of the club. A rarity for such a loud venue.

“I can’t believe you,” Beatrice, rather than causing a drama, merely whispered the first four words that she offered him since she walked out with a “happy fucking anniversary.”

“Trisha—“ he tried to reason out, but he was quietened by her glare.

“Everything’s falling apart,” she told him calmly, “everything’s falling apart but you refuse to take accountability for being a part of it.”

He remembered the controversy surrounding McLaren and Ferrari. And how he was somewhat a part of it.

Earlier today, he hadn’t even offered Lewis a congratulations on his first win. He bitterly walked off, frustrated at Lewis’ win and his P9 result. P-fucking-9. He’s been a two time world champion. Now he landed in P9? He was upset. It was even worse when he saw some televised interviews of Lewis and Trish being a little bit friendly as she showered the younger driver with support. Fernando was her favourite driver. Now it’s Lewis.

Then he remembered how he got into a huge argument with her, practically lying about being a distraction to him just to save face. He hated how his pride got in the way of the things he needed, blaming others seemed to be a better option than accepting defeat.

Beatrice continued on, “I gave you two years. I gave you half a year, Fernando. Why haven’t you backed out at the beginning if you thought of me that way?”

“I,” he paused to regain his composure, making sure that he was sober enough to speak. “I didn’t mean that.”

“You were quite passionate when you were screaming abuse at me,” Beatrice muttered sarcastically.

“I don’t, I really don’t— you have to believe me, mi corazon,” as of this point, he no longer had the prideful attitude. He didn’t care if he didn’t. He wasn’t about to lose her for good. “Everything’s falling apart and I wasn’t sure how to get myself out of it.”

“I could’ve done something,” Trish told him, “I could’ve been there to comfort you, to provide input— and I know jackshit about whatever’s happening. You didn’t tell me anything. How am I supposed to believe you after all of that?

“I can’t be the only one responsible here,” she continued with the pain that felt permanent. “You— ugh.”

She angrily wiped her tears away, a slight smudge of her mascara showing her exasperation as she asked, “These papers— those people… when they ask you about me— did you ever try giving them an answer?”

“Did you even tell them how much I fucking meant to you? Or did you just let it all show in front of the cameras because I’m not worth a word to anyone? Did you even bother to look and wonder how the fuck I was doing? After all of that fiasco last year— you weren’t even there!”

“And that was my mistake, Trisha!” He yelled in the same tone as her. Were they ever glad that nobody could hear them with all of the bass boosting inside the club.

Her lips trembled, unable to contain her sadness. She wasn’t even upset at the way he yelled. She was just sad it turned out like this.

He sighed, slumping down against the wall as he leaned his head back for a moment. He couldn’t talk to her if he couldn’t contain his frustration. But then again, if he continued to focus more on himself and keeping his composure— she’d walk away again because of the lack of words he had given her.

His hand reached on her wrist, squeezing it once, “Just stay. Don’t leave, mi corazon.”

“I’m not leaving,” she spoke quietly, slightly tugging her wrist away from his hold. Did he really think she’d leave? She only left months ago because she knew damn well that he’d much rather be alone… and that he didn’t want her there. “Only did that to make things easier for the two of us. I want to talk- and so do you, so I’m not wasting my time on leaving.”

Fernando Alonso never felt the need to explain himself any further to anyone, he could admit. He didn’t give that much shit what anyone would think, thanks to his ego. But he had never felt the need to explain himself this desperately before. He knew too well that the moment he watches Beatrice Staedtlander slip away from him would be the moment when everything ends for him.

“Ojalá pudiera volver atrás en el tiempo para poder contarte todo. Sé que he herido a mucha gente debido a mis acciones y he hecho tanto por ti, ojalá no dejara que mi orgullo sacara lo mejor de mí. Mamá tiene razón. Soy estúpido porque te he deje ir tan fácilmente en lugar de tratar de mejorar las cosas,” I wish I can turn back the time so I can tell you everything. I know I’ve wounded a lot of people because of my doings and I’ve done so much to you, I wish I didn’t let my pride get the best of me. Mom is right. I am stupid because I’ve let you go so easily instead of trying to make things better.

His mind was set on panic mode and clearly the rambling of Spanish words showed it. His eyes, ones that were often playful or stoic, softened as he kneeled in front of her, clasping both of her hands as he said, “Please. Let me back in your heart, Trisha. Let me learn.”

And she couldn’t even fathom the thought of refusing him. Because those two years of relationship didn’t build up to nothing. She hadn’t learned intermediate Spanish in his childhood home for nothing. She hadn’t stayed up late to receive his call for nothing. She wouldn’t have done anything as remotely outrageous as putting his driver number in her tiny bikini for a magazine cover if it hadn’t been for the love and dedication she had for him.

“You’ve always been in my heart, Nando,” she murmured, peering down at him as she held his face against her smaller hands. Pressing down a kiss on his lips, she then said, “But god if you fucked this up, then maybe we really aren’t meant for each other.”

Fernando stood from where he kneeled, his lips capturing hers in a heated yet gentle kiss as his hand sat on her hip. He couldn’t even seem to answer, but it wasn’t as if he'd ever refuse her. She was someone he’d never turn down; not when he knew that she was it for him.

But this wasn’t the first time they’ve broken up. And this definitely won’t be the last time Fernando Alonso would find himself making the biggest mistake of his life. Thank god, Beatrice Staedtlander was there to remind him that his pride would only hinder his chances of making things right.

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theredofoctober · 12 days

Text

MANNA- CHAPTER FOURTEEN: TRIPE

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, child abuse and more (check the tags)

Read after the cut

By some sense of duty, or else an undug tendril of guilt, Will volunteers himself to oversee your evening routine alone. You allow him this, being in scant possession of what slim tolerance has borne you through Hannibal’s accompaniment thus far.

Will proves himself to be far less involved than the other man would have been in his stead. He leans against a wall with the nonchalance of a prison warden as you shower blood and spend alike down the receiving drain, allows you to pad into your bedroom, towel-wrapped, to select a clean nightdress and sanitary products with his head turned nobly aside.

You cannot determine if his distance from you is through respect for your condition or some lasting dislike of you, neither of which holds entirely true.

More likely it is that he does not see you as his child, yet, nor quite with the equality of a lover.

Still, as you get into bed he cannot help but come to you, uncertain as he his of his purpose.

“Will you give me a goodnight kiss?” you ask, part in bitter jest, and part in annoyance with his indecision.

That a man can fuck and beat you in throes of black delight and still skulk about like a repentant sinner would have confounded you in the days before you became accustomed to such duality. To what end, and upon what strength the latter side subsists is now the greater puzzle, for it is this that drags its heels and restrains Will from his full devilry.

“Well?” you say, brusquely. “What are you waiting for? Dad’s permission?”

Will gives a hard laugh, one hand kneading the back of his neck.

“I admire your commitment to the part, but you don’t have to keep it up so seriously when it’s just you and me.”

“I promised I would,” you remind him. “Why can’t you? You had no issue kissing me in front of Hannibal. I don’t see why it’s a problem now.”

You see Will’s fingers go to the bridge of his nose, wanting the guard of the eyeglasses he’s neglected to wear.

“It’s not genuine,” he says, flatly. “The only reason you’re asking is to manipulate me.”

“So what?” you say. “Scared that it’ll work?”

“Not scared, no.”

“Sure you’re not.”

There is something hysterical in your tone, the cut string of a trapped and weary madness.

Will examines you, aware of the power play you’re attempting over him, intrigued by it, despite himself. Attracted, even.

His gaze is like a stone in the sun, all heat, all black, all blue.

He knows what revulsion you must push past to test him like this, still slightly high from the forced euphoria of fucking, and the drugs. You’re beyond consideration of the consequences, irrational, barely attached to the tongue and teeth that bite at the air in their ire.

Still Will hangs from your words like a pilgrim knelt before an oracle, dependent on your answer.

“Haven’t you had enough of me kissing you tonight?” he asks.

Sniffing, you turn to face his gargoyle shadow on the wall.

“So it’s a no. You’d make a really terrible father.”

“One...”

“Not my name.”

So Will says it, gently, and you roll back towards him, your heart quick and high behind a rail of bone with the thrill of his appeasement.

Your truce, the union of flesh: they’ve altered Will, for as he looks at you a second time his pupils are the chasms between worlds, wild and deep.

Kneeling up on the bed, you make a trellis of both hands through his curls and clutch him to you in an ungainly kiss. Will stumbles in the force of it, his arms spilling about your back so as not to fall upon you with all his weight.

You gasp against his lips with eagerness to take what he has taken, to fallow the rose flesh of his inner mouth, the lathe of your tongue churning. Will is too surprised to kiss you in return, but as you hitch one leg after the other upon his hips you feel the vine of him against your groin, wanting you again, as always.

You think of him fucking you now, pinning your wicked hands with the nail of his fist as he thrusts through a sheen of blood. Though you despise him still, your loins smart with interest in engineering the act rather than merely suffering it as ever before.

At last Will returns your kiss, but briefly, and with a knowing restraint before he lays you back upon the bed again.

You grasp at his face in an attempt to reclaim his lips. He pushes you lightly away.

“Hey,” he grins. “You made your point.”

“Oh?” you say, coolly. “And what is my point?”

“That I like kissing you. That I want to kiss you, whether Hannibal’s here or not.”

“Right,” you say, twisting a corner of your quilt around one finger for something to do with your hands. “But you never would have picked me. Like, if I was in one of your FBI classes. If I was your student. Would you even have noticed me?”

Will laughs again, with a startled unease, as though the notion is foreign to him.

“Starting affairs with students isn’t exactly my style. I turn up, I teach. That’s it. I don’t get personally involved. Or didn’t, till now. Letting people get close is... uncomfortable for me.”

He glances down at the bunch of quilt in your closed knuckles. Unlike the ever-tactile Dr Lecter, he makes no attempt to take it away.

“So how come you got so close to Hannibal?” you ask. “Didn’t you say you had reservations about him?”

“He saw me even when I was making an effort to turn away. He and I have commonalities I can’t ignore, and enough differences to keep me wondering who he really is. There’s a lot even I don’t know about him, and there are times I wonder what I’m doing letting him in.”

You’re on the verge of another question as Will steps sharply back from the bed.

“We can talk more tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll still be here in the morning. But if you want my thoughts about Hannibal then it’s only fair that you tell me a little about you in return. If this is going to work long-term I need to know who you are.”

Then he goes over to the light switch and closes you in behind a shutter of night.

You’re roused from the saccharine heat of your bedcovers the following morning by Will rapping on your bedroom door. His face appears in the crevice between it and the frame as though wary to trespass, the broken spell of your desperation in his eyes.

“It’s so early,” you whine, noting the bare line of sunlight beneath the curtains. “And I feel like death, thanks to you and Dad. Can’t I stay in bed?”

“Hannibal just rushed out to an emergency appointment,” says Will. “One of his patients is having some kind of crisis, so it’ll be just you and me for a while. You want coffee? I was about to make some.”

An apology, you think, something to alleviate the swaddled and perspiring misery of your comedown.

“Sure,” you say, weakly. “Black, please. Sweetener, if there is any. The low calorie version.”

Will’s brows rise.

“You think Hannibal keeps that around?”

Reflecting on the little paper sachets that had been favoured throughout high school you say, “Ha. I guess not.”

Within twenty minutes you’re sitting up against your pillows, one hand gripping a delicate, steaming cup, the other soothing your stomach through which bites the first monthly cramp.

Will takes a nearby chair, eyeing the bars on your window as though assuming your daily view through the glass.

Though you loathe him still in his unpredictable oddities, you’re keen to make closer yet the allyship you’ve struck up with him, watchful though he is of that very attempt. If he will not help you escape, then a friendship at least may fortify the sanity you fear will leave you in this quasi childhood.

Will doesn’t seek your regression quite as Hannibal does— a cantankerous teenager is as young as he perceives you, the sick girl that never grew up. This house, then, is a Neverland in reverse, a sumptuous den of brutal sex.

Closing your eyes against such thoughts, you take in your coffee, each dark mouthful a long-acquired taste. You remember forcing back cup after cup of it, trusting it over plain water in the belief that it would burn calories as you drank.

Suddenly you’re acutely nostalgic for the days spent in your childhood room, scrolling through online threads of ailing young women in a community of mutual suffering.

It occurs to you that you may never feel so entirely comprehended without judgement as you were there again. You understand Will rather more through the thought, his convergence with Hannibal a relief to so lonely a monster.

“Tell me about ‘Dad’,” you say, into the silence. “You said you would, last night. Like, who even is he? Where did he come from?”

Will blinks, stirred up from his own brooding thoughts. In the dreary daylight he has the face of a beautiful invalid, all its angles skirted in shade.

“Hannibal’s from Lithuania, originally,” he says. “He had a younger sister, Mischa. She died a long time ago. I don’t know the finer details of what happened to her. She’s the only family he’s ever talked about, and even then it’s been bare bones.”

You sit up straighter, envisioning a young girl with Hannibal’s eyes, and none of his appetite.

“Huh,” you say. “That makes a lot of sense.”

"Hannibal would disagree. He doesn’t put much stock in the past making him who he is.”

“Seems kind of a weird thing for a therapist to say. He’s always digging into mine.”

Will looks at the floor, as though distinguishing some new pattern from the grains in the carpet.

“Hannibal views himself as... separate from other people. Being that he acts outside of ethics and the law in his own profession, I’d guess that what’s between us isn’t his only secret.”

“I’ve tried to tell you,” you say, tapping your coffee cup with bitten fingertips for emphasis. “I’ve known this for so long. But since you’re going along with his games how can you even judge him for whatever horrible things he’s doing?”

“Without knowing what he has or hasn’t done,” says Will, slowly, “I can’t say that I do.”

He gets up from his seat and paces before the window, his hands gesticulating like pigeons frenzied into startled flight.

“You assume that what I’m trying to learn about Hannibal—the core of who he is—is something ugly. But that isn’t what I’m afraid of. It’s the possibility of him lying to me. I don’t know if I could forgive him for that after the bond we’ve made. After what he encouraged me start with you.”

“You shouldn’t trust him,” you say, urgently. “Don’t. You don’t need him.”

Scoffing, Will says, “Jack seems to think I do. Alana— she’s convinced I’m one nudge away from disappearing so far into a case that I kill someone without even knowing it. Hannibal's the only one that doesn’t think of me as broken.”

You consider informing him of his suspected encephalitis, that Hannibal surely withholds this truth and more so as to keep his favour.

In the end you retain your silence; better that Will discovers the manipulation alone and behold how he has been misled upon this trail of darkness.

“Enough about me,” says Will, abruptly. “I know that someone hurt you, long before Hannibal. Before me. Someone you've never forgotten.”

Alarmed by the twist in conversation, you stammer, “I— I already told him some of it. I said I didn’t remember. But I was lying about that. I just don’t know if it was only one, long night, or it happened other times. I don’t know which is worse.”

You pause, slightly breathless. Like a portent from the white lips of some phantom you know that you must tell Will the truth, adhere him to your weeping heart with empathy for you.

“I was just a little kid,” you say. “And he was an adult. Nearly family— I used to call him Uncle Lee. Hannibal probably told you that. Anyway, I got my ‘wrong’ feeling about him way before he did what he did. Like I knew it was coming. Then he came into my room alone one night and... it happened.”

You put down your coffee cup, almost knocking it from the bedside table with the shaking of your hand. Will comes away from the window at once, dragging his chair to your bedside to listen. He neither speaks nor looks into your eyes, aware that you can bear neither without faltering.

“He touched me,” you say, “and the whole time I couldn’t even face him. I don’t even remember what I felt. Maybe I didn’t feel anything at all. Just stared at the ceiling or whatever. He did stuff to me that changed me forever. I felt like a tiny old person in a kid’s body, after that, knowing about things I wasn’t supposed to know.

“And the worst of it was still having to see him after. My parents— I tried to tell them, but I couldn’t get the words out. They just thought I didn’t like him. So he came back to the house, now and then. Never saw any consequences.

“I’ve always wondered if I was the only one, or if there were others. He was a plumber, or something; he could have access to people’s daughters anytime he wanted. Just walk into their room and... you know. I think maybe he did do that, a couple of times. Who knows.”

Your restless fingers pick at the gold embroidery on your bedspread, working it loose from the velvet. One of Will’s hands folds over yours, gently holding them still.

“What I always think about is how he treated me, afterwards,” you say. “I tried avoiding him, but it didn’t always work. One day he cornered me at the top of the stairs— my parents were in the kitchen, so it was just me and him.

“I must have been maybe twelve or so. Not far off thirteen. My body was changing. I was growing up. He said, ‘you’re getting a little chubby, you know. You ought to do something about that before you look like your mother.’

“Then he smiled at me, and just walked into the bathroom like there was nothing wrong with what had just come out of his mouth, or what he’d done to me all those years ago.”

Inhaling an unsteady breath, you try, with dubious success, to smile.

“So now you get why I’m like this. And knowing it wasn’t my fault, that Leland Frost is just a predator... it doesn’t fix anything. Like, where do I go from there?”

“He injured you,” says Will, softly. “And it may never stop hurting. But you can recover. No matter what you believe, it is possible. His shallow cruelty is not your compass. You don’t have to live on the basis of an insult.”

Scowling, you pull away from Will, trapping your hands under your armpits.

“How can I change when I’m reliving what I went through every day? Why does Hannibal think this’ll heal me? Why do you? Oh, yeah. You don’t.”

“I want it to,” says Will.

You snort dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah. Not so long ago you would have punched the air to see the back of me. You don’t want to share Hannibal with anybody.”

Will leans back in his seat, arms folded; it takes a moment for you to register that he is, by some subconscious impulse, copying your posture.

“I’m not sharing Hannibal with you,” says Will. “I’m sharing you with him. And I want to do that. You knew it before I did.”

His gaze snaps to yours, more arresting than his hands on you had been.

“You’re more like me than I cared to admit. Hannibal was right about that. And though everything about you should repulse his sensibilities he finds you adorable. You clearly don’t appreciate it, but there it is.”

You yearn to deny him, to condemn this speech as sophistry, but you are silent, as much a congregant to him as he has been to you.

“Leland Frost tore you down because he saw that you were growing up and away from him,” says Will. “He knew that one day you’d have a life, and achievements, and people that really cared about you. He was going to fade out of your world, and he couldn’t stand not leaving a mark.”

“I just don’t get it,” you whisper. “He loved me. Why did he do it?”

Will shifts his chair even closer to the bed so as to lean into you, his expression tender, tragic, sombre with a father’s sympathy.

“Leland never loved you, and that’s no reflection on you or your worth. It makes him weak, that he could throw away the relationship he had with you over an urge.”

You don’t have the strength to rage against the whited sepulchre in Will, not when he speaks the truth you’ve always yearned to hear from another. Pain winds through your body, throat to gut, great, twisting pulses, as though eviscerated on a blade of past.

What advice would Will give for you to survive what he and Hannibal have done, and will do?

Nothing. Not a word. He knows that the structure of the home, even comfort from those that afflict you has changed you in so short a time. Your desperation to be gone from him he senses, too, and with it your lust to be loved.

Will holds your hand for a long time before he speaks again, on another subject quite as dreary as the last.

“When you said it’d been years since you...”

“Since I last had my period?” you ask, touching your stomach through the sheets. “Yeah. It has been.”

Your body, the betrayer, making a scarlet banner of your betterment through cruelty.

“I never wanted it to come back. Having it again means I’m not as sick anymore, and that’s like... messing up for me.”

Will's head tilts, his face carved up by the shadows thrown from your barred window into a lattice of snow.

“Failing to die is barely a failure at all,” he comments.

You shrug yourself further under your bedcovers.

“It is if what’s happening to you is something worse,”

“Is it always so bad, being here with us?”

Will’s hand rises. Doesn’t quite touch your face. You turn your head away, but not cruelly; he’s not a bad man, you decide, only contorted so utterly from the ways of his fellows that he is some creature other, or from before, the flint-armed hunter of the caves.

And like such a creature, he seeks your answering affection for want of some warmth in the dark beginning of the earth.

You allow him to kiss your forehead, clumsily, inclined towards him as though you were not both aware of the fiction that allows this contact.

He can only guess how far you’d run from this, had you your chance. How readily you’d betray him.

You’re much recovered by the time Dr Lecter returns, having been hydrated and energised by a selection of unnamed supplements Will had you take with lunch; there is a cure for every ailment in the makeshift laboratory of the kitchen, it seems.

Hannibal discovers you at your usual perch of the parlour couch, writing in your journal with a blanket tucked loosely around you against the October cool.

Will stands to greet his companion, setting aside a book you’d offered him from your shelf to peruse, its cover depicting the bloody half-brain of the sun on a desert horizon.

“I didn’t expect our charge to be in such high spirits,” says Hannibal, with unmasked surprise. “Thank you for caring for her this morning, Will. I’m aware that whatever time you can spare for us in the midst of an investigation is very precious.”

Likely aware of your eyes on him, Will says, “I’m glad I stayed. I appreciated the company. How’s the other patient?”

“Suitably quieted. I doubt that I’ll be called away again on her behalf. Still, I made the most of the journey home.”

Hannibal reaches into a shopping bag looped over one arm and produces from it a wrapped package of fresh meat, marbling the paper with blood.

Grimacing, you say, “Ew. What is that? Looks like an organ.”

“It is. I’ll be making trippa alla romana tonight. It’s an Italian dish made from cow stomach. Don’t turn your nose up till you’ve tried it. Have I served anything to you yet that you haven’t enjoyed?”

After dinner, all three of the household recline, full and talking lazily before the fire. Had your company been any other than your abusers you would almost be content, for having been allowed to leave the table after a valiant half plate you are not so guilt-soaked as you’d have been had you finished it all.

You had, in fact, disliked the meal, a first in Hannibal’s house. The thought of the organ, plucked from the rib of a butcher’s shelf, had struck bile to the back of your mouth from the first bite.

A cup of chocolate, warmed to a froth and unadorned with cream is set in your hands instead, which you drink in feline licks to make it last.

Will’s phone shrills abruptly in his pocket. Frowning, he glances at the lighted oblong of its screen and starts at a familiar name.

“It’s Jack,” he says. “I’d better take this.”

He promptly exits the room, speaking with clipped tones into the device.

Alone with Hannibal, you become acutely aware of him looking at you, not quite with suspicion, but not so far from that.

"I see that you and Will are becoming close,” he says, at last. “I’m glad to see it.”

Humming vaguely, you snatch up the journal again and weave your pen about in a pretence of writing.

Hannibal says, "Still, it saddens me that—for all your pretty words of promise—you display a lesser willingness to befriend me.”

You do not answer, pressing your pen so hard against a page that it blots through to the other side.

"Put your journal down a moment, Little One,” says Hannibal. “I’m speaking to you."

Without looking up, you answer, "I don't know what you want me to say."

"You needn't say anything at all. It's your behaviour I wish to change."

In a flounce of irritation you throw the journal upon the floor, its spine creasing.

“I do what you say, and I don't fight you anymore,” you say. “Isn't that daughterly enough?"

"For the purposes of your treatment,” says Hannibal, “it is not. You remain closed to me, parted only by narcotic aid. I'd prefer you to open to me of your own volition. With Will, you prove yourself increasingly capable of that.

“I’ve given you all you’ve asked for, and more, and yet you show little gratitude. I wouldn’t wish to remove these luxuries for you to appreciate my endeavours.”

You look at him, then, this man both jealous and performing jealousy to groom you into his concubine, and in looking see that he will deconstruct your room into the barest cell, should he not have his way.

"I do appreciate what you’ve given me," you hastily protest. "I do, Daddy. You don’t have to take anything away. But I— I just don’t know you the way I know Will.”

“But you do,” says Hannibal, rising to sit beside you, a dangerous proximity. “That’s why you are so afraid of me, is it not?”

You begin to object, trailing off at the sound of approaching footfalls as the younger of your captors returns, listing in the churning swell of stress.

“It's the investigation,” says Will. “Another doll’s been found. Savannah Belmont. It’s too soon to be the Lover’s kill. He has a cool off point between each abduction.”

Hannibal straightens in his seat, rapidly alert.

“A copycat, then.”

Will nods, his throat tightening. His eyes touch your face briefly, and you offer him a small, close-lipped smile, an extension of comfort from across the room. His shoulders drop from their rigid line, and when he speaks again the frantic note in his voice is tempered slightly.

“Definitely a copycat,” he says. “The Lover disposes of the dolls by throwing them into rivers like garbage. No attempt to lay them to rest. Savannah was put on display, placed in a chair on a dirt bank as though she was waiting to be found.

“Both killers meant to degrade their victims, but only the copycat’s is implied to understand and accept that humiliation. Savannah Belmont died aware of her inferiority in the eyes of her murderer.”

You find yourself sitting on your hands to prevent them from betraying your agitation with their unsteadiness. Your leg, however, you cannot control, the right foot gyring an inch above the floor.

Hannibal eyes it without speaking, folding your reaction into the lengthy tome of his mind.

“The victim’s stomach was missing,” says Will, turning to pluck a bottle of whiskey from a nearby cabinet like some bronze fruit. “That’s new. The Lover’s mutilations are all with the purpose of fitting the bodies of his victims inside their silicone casings. He has no surgical skills.

“This new killer obviously has expertise. Savannah’s stomach was cut precisely from her body with the clear intent of taking it as a trophy.”

“Her stomach?” you repeat.

You feel the heaviness of meat within you and are chilled by the coincidence.

Hannibal could not have known what the copycat would take to reference it, could not have known of his existence to begin with, and yet as you glance at him under your lashes you don’t quite trust the seriousness of his expression, his eyes gleaming dimly as tarmac in the rain.

“You mustn’t worry, Little One,” says Hannibal, turning to lift you up onto his lap. “The Lover can’t hurt you. We will protect you, always.”

He settles your head against his chest, which resounds with the slow beat of his heart and the machinery of organs digesting his own rich meal.

The monster knows of your renewed distrust and is unthreatened by it, declawed and tooth-filed as you are by his influence over you and all the passageways of the world you’d otherwise cross in your escape.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy,” you mutter, against his shirt, and the warmth of Hannibal’s palm cups your buttocks with a tormenting friction, both threat and tease at once.

While you hate him—are in terror of him, always—your form is increasingly enamoured by his touch as though it knows that it must be so, or die.

“No need to thank me for performing my duty to you, Little One,” says Hannibal, into your ear. “For you belong to me, and to Will, and you must never forget it.”

#manna fic #hannibal fic #tw noncon #tw csa #tw abuse #tw drugs #tw captivity #dead dove do not eat #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #darkfic

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mcdonaldsplayground · 1 year

Text

| actually the worst | part 6

ao’nung x f!reader

summary: when you wake up somewhere you aren't supposed to be, you get angry with ao'nung for being so calm while you feel nothing but guilty for leaving your injured sister alone. as things with your family slowly begin to mend, you realize that ao'nung probably hates you again for snapping at him. only when yours and kiri's birthday rolls around do you get a chance to work out your highly complex relationship with the metkayina boy, but it's not exactly the solution you were expecting.

includes: enemies to lovers, teasing, swearing, suggestiveness, mentions of seizure/death, ao'nung being so bf🥵

word count: 5.7k

a/n: so this is the final part! if people are into the idea i was thinking of doing a lil' bonus part based on the not-memory from part 5 (where ao'nung visits the forest)🤔 but anyway, i just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who has read and interacted with this series, i seriously cannot believe how kind everyone is🫶 i am definitely going to keep writing other fics (and might even branch out to do some other characters, who knows🤭)

this is a bit lengthy because i was trying to wrap up a bunch of loose ends. i realized when proofreading that ao'nung kind of doesn't even show up for a good portion of the middle part??? so sorry about that🫣 also i'm sorry but i couldn’t not put a 10 things i hate about you reference in here because it’s just the exact vibe at the end, so creds to that movie for the inspo:)

You woke before the sun did, the very beginnings of warm orange and pink light only barely peeking above the horizon. It was still mostly dark, and you felt extremely disoriented. Not only were you rarely an early riser, but you also rarely woke in the middle of the beach, which is where you currently seemed to be. Not only that, but a muscular arm was slung across your waist as well, pulling you close to the body who was attached to it.

Slowly, you turned your head and nearly screamed when your eyes met the sleeping form of your worst enemy-turned crush-turned sort of friend. Ao'nung looked at peace while asleep, something that did not come easy to him when awake. It would have been kind of nice to see if you weren't so horrified by the predicament.

"Jesus christ..." You muttered to yourself, the events of the previous night coming into focus in your mind. Trying not to breathe or move too much, you attempted to slowly shimmy out of Ao'nung's grasp. You had almost successfully freed yourself when the boy beside you suddenly snapped his eyes open, looking briefly confused before his own look of horror settled in. You practically jumped away from each other.

"We fell asleep." Ao'nung said dumbly.

"Great observation, genius." You snapped, pushing yourself up from the sand while you hurriedly brushed it off your skin. "If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I will personally cut off your-"

"Woah! Relax, princess. Wasn't planning on it." Ao'nung held his hands up in surrender, standing as well. You stiffened at the ridiculous nickname, but decided not to get into it as you turned quickly on your heel and began jogging away from the beach. You had way more pressing things to think about now. In fact, you were growing increasingly more angry with yourself as the seconds ticked by. Were you really so delirious from fear that you let such a thing happen? Kiri needed you.. but you were selfishly allowing yourself to be consoled in the arms of a boy instead.

Ao'nung caught up to you easily, though he maintained a decent distance as he spoke. "About last night-"

"Don't." You ordered, annoyed that he wanted to talk about it and embarrassed that it even happened. "That was a mistake." You trained your eyes ahead, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone.

"Look, forest girl, I know you're probably embarrassed because-"

You cut him off once again, finally just stopping in your tracks as you whipped around to face him. "Just stop with this stupid little flirting thing right now, okay? You don't know what I'm feeling. My twin sister almost died last night and I just left her alone when nobody knows what the hell is wrong with her! She needs me there at her side and what was I doing instead? Joking around and laughing with the guy I'm supposed to hate and then waking up beside him in the middle of the goddamn beach instead of next to her!" You spat, all of your fury and guilt spewing out along with your words. Ao'nung was frozen in place, eyes wide. "Just go away." You finished forcefully, making him flinch slightly. You didn't wait to hear a response before taking off once again toward your marui.

When you finally arrived, Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Tuk were all standing around outside the marui, looking as if they hadn't slept. A fresh wave of guilt washed over you at the thought.

"[Y/N]!" Tuk called when she noticed your approaching form, racing up to cling onto your side in a sort of hug. "Where were you?" She questioned, and Neteyam and Lo'ak nodded, waiting to hear your response. Blood rushed to your cheeks, your face growing warm in shame.

"I fell asleep on the beach." You mumbled. Not technically a lie.

"We were worried..." Neteyam said, placing a hand on your shoulder as he looked into your eyes. You could tell that he suspected you were holding back the truth. Your throat burned as you swallowed thickly.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," You breathed, ducking your head down.

"It's okay. I know it was difficult for you last night." Neteyam’s lips twisted into a sad smile, pulling you into a gentle hug. Tuk was quick to join, squeezing herself in between the two of you as she put her arms around your waists. Even Lo'ak came over, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and offering you a look of silent understanding. You breathed in deeply, grateful for their support and easy forgiveness.

"How is she?" You finally asked, pulling away so you could peek around Lo'ak into the marui. Neteyam sighed, guiding you over to the entrance.

"She is still asleep. Ronal had to go rest before she will be able to do anything for her." You noticed your parents sitting together inside, but you focused your attention on assessing your sleeping sister, in search of any visible injuries that may have appeared since you saw her last. Thankfully, she truly did seem physically unharmed. However, it pained you to see her eyes closed and her body so still, the only sign of life coming from the occasional rise and fall of her chest. You kneeled next to her, taking her hand.

"Wake up," You whispered. "Please."

"Where did you go?" You heard your father question from his spot on the floor. You looked up slowly, your guilt creeping back. You just stared at him and your mother for a moment, trying to work out what to say.

"It does not matter, my Jake." Your mother had caught the look in your eyes, nodding in a sort of silent understanding. "She is here now."

Jake glanced between the two of you briefly before deciding to drop it. You breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"I called Norm and Max." Jake said. "They should be here in an hour or so. They may be able to tell us what happened" You nodded in approval, returning your gaze to your twin. It wasn’t ideal to have your family’s old friends risk the journey down here, but if it meant even a chance of helping Kiri then you knew it was more than worth it. You only wished they would get there faster.

The helicopter landing had gathered quite a crowd, all looking nervous at the prospect of "demons" arriving on the island. That was fair, but to you it was a welcome relief to see Norm and Max approaching alongside your father, their equipment in tow. You had promised not to leave Kiri's side, though, so you watched from through the door as they quickly scrambled over.

"[Y/N]!" Norm called when he noticed you, your lips twisting into a small smile. It may have been terrible circumstances, but it was still good to see your old friends.

"Hey, Norm. Max" You nodded in greeting and they both pulled you in for a short hug before starting to set things up. They wasted no time in placing sensors along Kiri's face and head, asking your family anything and everything you knew about what had happened.

Once everything was in place, they started running diagnostics and doing everything they could to get an idea of what was going on inside Kiri's head. It was a slow process, however, and ten minutes seemed to turn into an hour, then an hour into two. Still, you sat as close as you could without interfering, dividing your mind between trying to understand what Norm and Max were saying about your sister and just simply willing something to work so that Kiri would open her eyes.

"There's no bleed. There's no fracture. No effects of hypoxia. The brain looks good." Max said, shaking his head in confusion as he glanced through the scans they had taken.

"But we still have this interictal activity here in the prefrontal." Norm pointed out.

"Yes, she's definitely had a seizure." Max nodded, and you wondered how he could be so calm. You felt nauseous at the thought. As they continued their discussion, someone entered the marui behind you, and you turned to find Ronal looking outraged at the setup.

"I see that I am not needed here." Your heart dropped as she spoke, but you stood quickly, panicked as she turned to leave. You were about to say something when your mother grabbed Ronal's arm.

"You are Tshaik!" She hissed, sounding both angry and pleading. Clearly Norm and Max were running out of things to try, and Ronal was turning into your only hope. You caught her eyes, silently begging her to stay.

"Remove these things." She finally said, glaring down at Max and Norm.

"Out!" Neytiri growled. "You have done nothing!" She began picking things up and attempting to shoo the men outside.

"Come on, let's just take a break." Jake said quickly, ducking out the door.

"Okay, hold on! I have to take her IV out!" Norm said, rushing to get everything off of Kiri. You patted his arm in thanks as he made his way outside as well. Ronal was quick in getting her materials ready, beginning the process of a ritual you had never witnessed before. The air was tense as she worked, chanting and calling upon Eywa for aid. It was mesmerizing to watch her, though your focus remained primarily on your sister's face, waiting with baited breath for any sign of consciousness.

Finally, after what felt like years, Kiri's eyes fluttered. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, leaning forward to grasp her hand.

"You're awake!" You breathed happily, using your free hand to gently caress her forehead, brushing some hair out of the way. Her gaze briefly flickered around the room before she began to cry, causing your heart to clench. Tears welled in your own eyes, and you fought against them, not wanting anything to blur your vision even for a moment.

"Are you ever going to let me out of sight?" Kiri questioned playfully, quirking an eyebrow in your direction. You smiled, shaking your head.

"Nope." The answer was a no-brainer. You quite literally hadn't spent a second away from your twin since she had woken up the previous day. While the rest of your family had fallen back into a semi-normal routine, you were intent upon staying with Kiri all day in the marui, even when she insisted she was feeling just fine.

"I'm not a baby, [Y/N]."

"I didn't say you were."

"Okay, but I'm not fragile either. We can't just stay holed up in here for the rest of our lives." She shot you a pointed look, growing serious.

"I know that," You sighed. "But what if I'm not there if something happens again?" The thought made your blood run cold. "I've already got enough guilt to last the rest of my life." You finished quietly, fidgeting with your fingers. Kiri's eyebrows furrowed.

"Guilt? [Y/N], what happened to me wasn't your fault. I know you think you're responsible for me, but there was nothing you could have done." She placed a hand on your arm and you looked up, meeting her eyes. "Besides, you've been hovering over me this whole time, I can guarantee that you're the world's most devoted sister." She chuckled, though you only felt worse at this, cringing a little. You had been holding in your shame for nearly two days now, and it finally came bursting to the surface in the form of a messy confession.

"I wasn't with you that night, Ki." You bit your lip before continuing. "I mean, I was, but then I started freaking out at everyone because nobody could figure out what was wrong. I only wanted to step out for a little while, just to calm down, you know?" Kiri was listening calmly, hand still resting reassuringly on your arm. "And Ao'nung was out there too, and I was crying and being hysterical and he was actually being nice for once and-"

"Oh my Eywa, he was being nice?!" Kiri's hand shot up to cover her mouth, gasping dramatically. You had to pause to process the fact that she wasn't being serious.

"Very funny, skxawng." You deadpanned. "This is serious!"

"Okay, okay, sorry!" She chuckled. "Please, continue."

"Well.. Actually that's pretty much it. Being around him was like this escape from reality, and I didn't want to go back home because I knew that meant having to think about what would happen if you- If you didn't make it or something." You swallowed thickly.

"Okay... so that's all? The moral of the story is that Ao'nung isn't as much of a douchebag as you thought?"

"No." You huffed. "The moral of the story is that I was being a selfish jerk who didn't bother to check on my sister all night because I was sleeping on the beach next to the aforementioned not-douchebag." Kiri's expression twisted into surprise briefly before she burst out laughing. The colour in your cheeks deepened.

"So I just bare my heart to you and all you can do is laugh at my stupidity?" You groaned, laying your back against the floor as you threw an arm over your eyes. However, Kiri's lighthearted reaction was making you feel a lot better. If she wasn't mad at you then maybe you didn’t have to feel so bad.

"Sorry," Kiri managed between laughs, eventually moving to lay down beside you when she gained some composure. "I just think you’re way too hard on yourself. I mean, sure, falling asleep alone with Ao'nung was a little scandalous, but you didn't really do anything wrong." She turned to her side to face you, propping up on her elbow. You did the same.

"I left you alone." You whispered, and her expression shifted into sympathy.

"You left me with our family, [Y/N]. You left because you needed help. It isn't a crime to react poorly when you're scared." The look she gave you was effective in melting the last of your guilt away, relieving some of the long-held tension in your muscles. You smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, Ki." And she smiled too, both of you taking in the quiet moment together. With Kiri, that moment didn't last too long.

"So, are you and Ao'nung exclusive now, or what?" She grinned as you rolled your eyes.

"Definitely not. Actually... I kind of snapped at him yesterday. Told him that night was a mistake and to leave me alone."

"What! Did you mean alone or alone, alone?" She questioned while you furrowed your brow in confusion.

"I guess at the time I meant alone, alone. I was really mad." You grimaced, remembering the look on Ao'nung's face after you had yelled at him.

"But you didn't mean it?"

"Well, no, I guess not." You shrugged. "But maybe it's a good thing, Ki. Everything that's ever happened between us has been so crazy and messy. It's probably for the best that we just stop trying to be... anything. Friends or otherwise." The words felt like a knife in the gut. You stared down at the ground, trying to convince yourself that you were right.

"You don't mean that." Kiri chided, her brow furrowing as she searched your eyes. "I know we always tease you, but I actually thought you really liked being around him."

I do. You thought painfully. I really do.

"It doesn't matter. He probably hates me now, for real this time." Your eyes darkened at the thought.

The arrival of your birthday was both exciting and deeply irritating. On one hand, you loved that you got to celebrate Kiri, and this time around felt extra special because of what she had just survived only days earlier. It was sort of a celebration of her recovery as well as her birthday. That being said, you hated the fact that people also insisted on celebrating you as well. It’s not that you didn’t appreciate the sentiment, but something about having everyone’s attention on you, showering you with an abundance of love and affection, was just not your thing.

So, when Tuk accidentally let it slip to you and Kiri that there was going to be a surprise party with everyone in the village invited, it was safe to say you were mortified. You had taken the entirety of the afternoon to sit in the sand by yourself and contemplate the best way to avoid the large gathering at all costs.

“You’re not getting out of this, you know.” Neteyam arrived silently from behind you, shooting you a pointed look as he sat down. “Mom and dad have this whole thing planned out. They even got Tonowari and Ronal on board.”

You groaned. “So that’s why this stupid thing is a community event?”

“Tonowari seemed strangely excited to make it into a big celebration.” Neteyam chuckled. “He kept talking about how it’s going to be so much fun to have music and dancing and a whole bunch of food and-”

“Okay, okay, I get it! Why do you insist on torturing me?” You moaned dramatically while Neteyam just laughed.

“Where was Kiri just now?” You changed the subject quickly when you noticed her returning from the village, coming from the opposite direction of your family’s marui. She had told you she was going to nap before the party.

“Oh- um- nowhere.” Neteyam was a notoriously bad liar. You raised an eyebrow, but before you could say anything, you noticed Lo’ak, Tsireya, Rotxo, and Ao’nung appear behind your sister, seemingly following her somewhere. They didn’t seem to notice where you sat, suspiciously watching them go by.

“Okay, what the hell?” You fixed your gaze back on your oldest brother, waiting for an explanation. You knew he had one because he was flushed, clearly trying not to act suspicious.

“I’m not allowed to tell you anything.” He admitted, a nervous laugh leaving his lips.

“Fine.” It took everything in you not to keep badgering him. He may not have been a good liar, but he was not one to tell other people’s secrets. “But if I find out that it has anything to do with my birthday, I’m going to kill you and Lo’ak.”

“What! But it was Kiri’s idea!” Neteyam said offendedly.

“And you and Lo’ak were stupid enough to go along with it,” You quipped. “Plus, it’s her birthday. It’s just bad manners to kill someone on their birthday.”

Neteyam laughed. “Okay, crazy. But it’s your birthday too, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.” You scowled.

“[Y/N]!” Your father called from behind you and Neteyam, squinting in the sunlight as his gaze fixed on the two of you. “Come! We need to get going soon!” He beckoned you over with a hand gesture and you sighed, allowing Neteyam to help pull you upright. You dragged your feet as you walked, hoping to prolong the inevitable.

“Neteyam, will you please get Kiri and Lo’ak?” Jake asked when you got closer, and the boy obediently dashed off in the other direction. Your fingers twitched as you thought about following.

“Don’t even think about it.” Jake laughed, throwing his arm across your shoulders as if to keep you on path with him. You rolled your eyes.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

By the time everyone in your family had been rounded up, the sun had started to sink below the horizon. The darkness was anticipated, however, as a large glowing bonfire had been lit on the sand, casting a surprising amount of light all along the beach. Thankfully, the festivities had begun without any mention of you or Kiri, so you relaxed a little and tried to stay out of the middle of things. It felt more like a community get-together than a birthday party, to which you were grateful. You even started enjoying yourself a bit, eating some of the wonderful food as you soaked in the warmth of the fire and focused on the music through the chatter of the crowd.

“[Y/N]!” You heard someone call and you ripped your gaze from the fire, looking around. Tsireya stood a few feet away, smiling as she held out her hand toward you. “We’ve been looking for you! Come stand with us!” She beckoned, and you tried not to look reluctant as you followed her over to where your friends and siblings were. They had formed a sort of circle and were talking and laughing animatedly as you took a spot between Tsireya and Kiri.

Ao’nung was standing almost directly across from you while he talked with Rotxo, and it was hard to keep yourself from staring at him through the fire light. You'd seen him around the village over the past week, but neither of you had approached the other at all. He hadn’t even looked your way once in that time, which put a tiny crack in your heart. You missed the way he used to devour you with his eyes, the resulting feeling both intimidating and electrifying at the same time.

Just when you were about to look away, he abruptly turned and met your gaze. Something flickered in his eyes, and you convinced yourself you imagined it as the ghost of a smirk played at his lips. Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. So much for missing that feeling.

“[Y/N]?” Kiri nudged you, effectively snapping you out of it. Colour rose to your cheeks, particularly when you didn’t feel Ao’nung’s gaze leave you even as you turned toward Kiri.

“Hm?”

“I said are you having fun?” She was clearly trying to hold in a laugh. You narrowed your eyes.

“I guess this isn’t so bad.” You admitted after a few seconds of silence, glancing around the beach. As your head swivelled, you confirmed through peripheral vision that Ao’nung was still staring at you, though he was now talking casually with Lo’ak and Rotxo. You shivered slightly.

“No one’s wished me happy birthday yet, so I would call that a win.” You smiled a bit, but quickly dropped it when Kiri gave you a nervous grin.

“Don’t kill me, but I overheard dad saying that Tonowari was going to-” As if she had spoken it into existence, Tonowari suddenly called out a request for everyone to quiet down, stepping forward into the middle of the beach, glowing in the firelight.

“My people!” He grinned, spreading his hands wide in greeting. “I am glad to see everyone enjoying tonight’s festivities. While we need no reason to come together and celebrate, I do want to speak on what the celebration tonight is in honour of.” Your heart dropped out of your chest and flopped around pitifully on the sand. Tonowari turned to where you and Kiri stood, grinning widely as he beckoned for the two of you to stand by him. Kiri grabbed your hand, squeezing it lightly. While she smiled and accepted the spotlight gracefully, you imagined your expression resembled dread mixed with painful awkwardness. It was all you could do not to visibly cringe at the hundreds of eyes trained on you. However, only one pair really seemed to pierce directly into you, the intensity of it reminding you of the day you had first arrived here. Just like that day, he appeared to be seeing something about you that no one else was allowed to. It offered you a strange sort of steadiness.

“First, I would like to thank Eywa for the recovery of this young woman!” Tonowari placed a gentle hand on your sister’s shoulder. “We celebrate her health tonight.” You managed a small smile as everyone cheered, sharing a look with Kiri. You gripped her hand a little bit tighter. “And, of course, we thank Eywa for bringing the Sully family here to us. It is hard to accept change, but this has been a welcome one indeed. Join me in celebrating [Y/N] and Kiri on this wonderful day in which they were born!” You could hardly hear the cheers of the crowd as your cheeks burned and your heart pounded in your ears. As grateful as you felt, you didn’t think you could handle the attention much longer. Thankfully, Kiri nodded at Tonowari in thanks and lead you back to your friend group. Your brothers were cackling, practically beside themselves with laughter.

“Y-your face! Oh Eywa that was priceless!” Lo’ak howled. You glared, sticking out your tongue.

“Shut it, dickhead. Just because I don’t enjoy being stared at-” You didn’t get to finish as your brothers loudly cracked up again, holding their stomachs. Even Kiri, Tsireya, and Rotxo couldn’t contain themselves as they joined in. You grinned, shaking your head. “You guys are terrible. I’m going to find Tuk.” You spun on your heel, still laughing to yourself.

You skirted along the outside of the crowd, scanning for your youngest sister, when a hand suddenly grasped your arm, tugging you into the shadows of the trees, out of sight.

“What the hell are you-” You paused upon seeing who was holding onto you. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, forest girl.” His eyes danced with a playfulness that you had missed, causing a skip in your heartbeat.

“Ao’nung I-” You were gearing up to apologize. You hadn’t planned on doing so, but you found it impossible not to as you stood across from him.

“Shh. Just follow me.” He turned, sliding his hold on your wrist down to lace his fingers with yours. You stiffened, eyes wide as you stared down at your interlocked hands. “Come on, freak!” He smirked, ignoring your confusion as he impatiently tugged you along. It didn’t take long for you to arrive at one of the little alcoves off the side of the island, just far enough away that you could no longer see the party on the beach and could only faintly hear it in the background over the soft lapping of the waves. You had been in this area plenty of times before, but you had never seen it at night. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

The alcove was cave-like in a way, with large slabs of rock surrounding you and tucking the two of you mostly out of sight. There was little of the glowing vegetation that typically lit up the night on the island, but it didn’t matter because what looked like thousands of tiny glowing stars were embedded in the rock around you, effectively giving the illusion of standing directly next to the sky. You gawked, unable to tear your eyes away from such a magnificent sight.

“I heard you saying that you don’t like people staring.” Ao’nung broke the silence, chuckling a little at your awe. “I figured there’s no one to do that here,” He paused, smirking. “Except me.”

You flushed, remembering the delicate way he was still gripping your hand.

“I though you hated me again.” You said quietly.

“I do hate you.” Your heart dropped at his words, but for some reason he stepped closer, his eyes fixed intently on your face.

“I hate you because of your stupid smile that makes my hands all sweaty. I hate you because you’re the only one who puts up a fight when I tease you. I hate you because you actually drive me insane sometimes, and I hate you because I never know if you want to kiss me or kill me.” He grinned. “But mostly I hate that I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit.”

This felt like a fever dream. You held your breath as if you were going to wake up any second. But you remained where you were, frozen in uncertainty. It seemed the worst time to tease him, so of course, that’s what you did.

“I think you’re drooling.” You whispered, still not entirely sure how to move or think properly in the wake of his confession. He only huffed, ducking down close to your ear in one fluid motion. His warm breath fanned across your throat as he spoke.

“This is what I’m talking about, skxawng. Your inability to be nice,” You hadn’t realized he’d been slowly inching the two of you toward the wall of stone until he gently pressed you into it, one hand moving to grip your waist while the other flattened against the wall next to your head, the only thing holding him up over you. “It's driving me crazy.” The air felt like it had been sucked entirely out of the space between you, both of your chests rising and falling quickly. Despite the way his touch set you on fire, you had goosebumps from the proximity. Everything around you was charged with tension as Ao’nung finally tipped his head back away from your ear, staring at you so hard his pupils were dilated.

“Don’t you want me to apologize for yelling at you the other day?” Your voice came out small, though you’d gained a little confidence. All the time you'd spent convincing yourself that Ao’nung didn’t like you the way liked him was clearly wasted. His ears bent slightly as he smirked.

“Not with words.”

Oh.

“Oh?” You quirked an eyebrow, your breath hitching as Ao’nung pressed closer yet, almost every possible inch of you touching except for your heads, mere millimetres apart. The tension was so delicious that you almost didn’t want to break it.

You broke it anyway, closing the gap between you as you pressed your mouth to his, nearly gasping at the contact. It’s a good thing he’s holding me up, you thought fleetingly, your knees nearly giving out. Your lips fit together perfectly, moving in sync as he looped both arms around you, cinching you to him like he wished for you to meld together. Your hands roamed his chest, eventually making their way up to his neck, feeling the soft baby hairs there and making him groan into the kiss. You smiled.

“Happy birthday, [Y/N].” He whispered against your lips, smirking slightly. Your knees felt weak again. Just when he began pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, something made you both freeze.

“Ewwwwwwww!” Someone who sounded suspiciously like Tuk squealed, followed by a fake retching noise that you often heard Lo’ak make. You whipped your head around, searching through the darkness outside of the alcove, Ao’nung’s grip on you relaxing a bit but not letting go.

“Just get out of these stupid bushes, guys. They know we’re here.” Neteyam grumbled, and finally everyone came into view from the greenery they had been hiding in. You gaped. Neteyam, Tuk, Kiri, Rotxo, Tsireya, and Lo’ak were all there.

“Oh my Eywa, tell me you did not just see all of that!” You gasped, fighting the urge to rip out of Ao’nung’s grasp. In response, Lo’ak grinned before putting on a stupid face.

“Oh, [Y/N]. I hate that I don’t hate you! Oh, Ao’nung, don’t you want me to apologize?” His imitation of your voices was horrendous. “Not with words… mwah mwah mwah…” Lo’ak had wrapped his arms around himself and turned around, crudely imitating a kiss. Tsireya smacked him on the shoulder, giving him a look, though her and the others were holding back laughter.

“Why the hell did you follow us here?” You questioned angrily before remembering the earlier events of the day. You snapped your head toward Neteyam.

“Is this what they were planning earlier?!” You raged, about to stomp over to him to give him a piece of your mind. Ao’nung pulled you back.

“Yes. Your sister explained to me how you were feeling and said she wanted to help me make peace with you. We all came up with the idea to take you here to talk and get away from all of your birthday stuff.” He paused, assessing your still fuming expression. “But I swear I didn’t know they were going to come spy on us!” He hissed, glaring at everyone.

“It’s not our fault you two decided to start sucking face!” Lo’ak cried.

“We just wanted to see if you guys would apologize and be friends again.” Kiri piped up, and you knew she was telling the truth. You softened.

“Well, I guess it worked.” You shook your head, smiling in spite of yourself. Beside you, Ao’nung smiled too, a real, genuine smile. Lo’ak made another gagging noise.

“Literally kill me. You guys are disgusting. Can’t you just go back to being frenemies or something?”

“Lo’ak, if you keep being a moron then I’m going to have to tell mom and dad about what you and Tsireya get up to when-”

“Okay, okay! Geez! Why does everyone have to know my business, damn!”

Everyone laughed and began turning toward the party, slowly making their way back. You and Ao’nung trailed behind, his arm slung around your waist as you walked.

“So how does it feel to be with the most attractive guy in the world?” He smirked cockily. You just scoffed.

“I wouldn’t know.” You earned a playful shove from him, laughing.

“You’re actually the worst.” Ao’nung grinned, shaking his head.

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“An annoying little brat, then.”

You gasped, faking offence. “Rude!”

“That’s what you love about me.”

You pretend to think for a moment. “Mm, nope. Don’t think so.” You concluded, laughing loudly as Ao’nung growled playfully, stopping both of you in your tracks. He turned toward you, capturing your face entirely in his large hands.

“Take it back.”

“No thanks.” You grinned arrogantly.

“C’mon, love. Just admit that you can’t get enough of me.” You shivered at the nickname, and he smirked. That stupid little smirk. It had gotten you into a whole world of trouble. But maybe it was worth it?

He leaned in, pressing a quick, but heated kiss to your lips.

Yes, definitely worth it.

taglist:

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idyllic-affections · 1 year

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dad!pantalone brainrot (ft. il dottore & baizhu) iv.

summary. when their health issues flare up, there are very few doctors that their father will permit to treat them.

trigger & content warnings. implied canon-typical dottore violence, (empty) threats, chronic illness, blood, mentions of death, etc.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort. dad!pantalone & reader, il dottore & reader, baizhu & reader. 0.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader. prev | next

author's thoughts. this series is never ending... in my defense, it was going to be a full-length fanfic but i never ended up pursuing that idea. anyway baizhu and pantalone are brothers here! idc if it ends up being non canon, its canon in my heart 💖 this got... slightly angstier than i intended. whoops!

when it comes to his child's health, pantalone only trusts two doctors in all of teyvat.

(he objectively trusts one far more than the other, though.)

il dottore is an... unfortunately large part of their life. the regrator did eventually accept that it was inevitable, given how "close" he and the doctor tend to be. dottore is one of their many tutors, though admittedly, his teaching methods are probably a little concerning... at least [name] is proficient in anatomy and physiology! perhaps pantalone should reconsider whether or not his child should be left alone with him. he'd somewhat gotten over his initial concerns about leaving them with him and his segments after seeing zeta nearly tear someone's head clean off in their defense, but perhaps it's time to reconsider! the second may not be hurting them, per se, but he is creating a desensitized little thing.

(though... it may very well be for the best, given their harbinger lineage. they cannot afford to be soft or squeamish. pantalone knows this very well.)

the second fatui harbinger is also largely responsible for making sure they're in good health. semiannual check-ups are a standard practice as opposed to annual ones; they did happen to inherit their father's poor immune system. dottore once offhandedly commented that it probably came more from the regrator's brother, as even pantalone isn't as prone to illness as his child is. the doctor has never met baizhu personally, but pantalone knows he's right. they tire so easily... sometimes it makes him sick with worry. regardless, it runs in the family, and some get it worse than others, so check-ups are more common.

(check-ups are always an amusing sight when zeta is around, wordlessly fiddling with a needle suspiciously close to their neck.

"put that needle in my throat and i will tear out yours."

he only smiles at them.

their smug aura does not mock him; contrary to popular belief, he finds it quite funny and endearing! they are the only person that can get away with talking shit like that. not even the other dottore clones can talk to him like that without getting a violent response. he lets it slide with omega because he has to, but beyond that...

he's fond of them. he's just too emotionally constipated to admit it.)

however, sometimes pantalone doesn't completely trust dottore not to harm them when they're seriously ill and vulnerable. he knows dottore would gain nothing by bringing them harm, and yet...

archons, becoming a father has made him awfully protective, hasn't it? surely he wasn't like this before he took them back from arlecchino?

times like those, times in which their illness would act up to the point of leaving them bedridden, making them shiver and tremble and spit up blood... times like those are when he calls upon baizhu.

he'd understand their illness better than dottore ever could, anyway. pantalone was right to make such an assumption.

"has your father taught you nothing of energy management?"

"energy management?" they scoffed sarcastically, the warmth from the cup of herbal tea in their hands soothing the chill in their trembling fingers, "from the man who hardly takes care of himself? please. he acts as if he isn't also chronically ill. he'll literally work himself to death if he isn't more careful. it's... worrying, actually." they tapped their nails against the cup mindlessly, chewing on the corner of their lip.

anxiety was not good for their health, especially not when they were already this ill.

"oh?" baizhu's interest was very much piqued at that, and their lips twitched upwards slightly at the way his hand stroked over their head calmingly. "in that case, i'll have to teach you my methods, but... he's been taking poor care of himself, has he?"

"the poorest."

"i see. do tell me everything, for... future reference."

they knew very well that 'future reference' meant a firm chiding. oh well! it's not like they purposely exposed their father's poor habits, no no. they were a loyal child. they'd never do something so terrible and unforgivable...

unless it was baizhu who asked, of couse. it would be awfully rude to withhold secrets about his own relatives from him, after all!

pantalone may get sick with worry over their health, but the sentiment is very much mutual.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion brainrots 🌸#pantalone x reader #baizhu x reader #il dottore x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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footballerimaginess · 5 months

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Twins | Part 2

Here is my second part of my Twins fic, hope you like it! Part 1 Word Count: 733 Trigger warnings: Mentions pregnancy throughout The last 12 weeks were awful, your first trimester was horrible.

All you felt like you did was sleep, throw up and cry. There was way too many emotions in your body for you to handle. You were exhausted all the time and the hormones were crazy, Kylian never admitted that they were too much but you just knew that's what he was thinking. The sickness was horrendous too, nothing you could do was stopping it. All you could do was lay in bed, Kylian was absolutely perfect the whole time. With his games and media commitments he was away quite often, but he was so caring and you knew he would make the greatest father. "I have some water for you, try and have some crackers or something. I am so sorry that you're feeling like this, I wish I could do something for you or just to take it away" Kylian cooed at you as he softly ran his hands through your messy hair. "It's ok. I will be fine, you best go. I don't want you to be late or get fined" you told him as he nodded and placed a small kiss on your forehead as you tried to snuggle down in the bed whilst he went to training. - As 12 weeks were over, you were told that you would start to feel better. That wasn't happening. The tiredness had slowly disappeared and were starting to feel a little bit better in that way but still had a tired feeling about you. "Hi" you smiled as you were up already and making breakfast. "You seem very happy this morning?" you grinned. "Well we get to see baby Mbappe and I am very excited. I am pretty hungry too" you smiled as you embraced him in a cuddle. "I love you, I am glad you are starting to feel a little better. I know the last few weeks have been seriously tough on you. But seeing you smile and feel yourself again is amazing. Carrying our baby is so special and feels crazy to see" you felt the tears fill up as you stopped yourself from crying. "Oh KyKy, that was emotional. I love you, are you ready for our scan tomorrow?" you asked him as his face lit up. "Of course, I can't wait" he kissed your lips gently as you carried on making the breakfast for the both of you. - Scan day was here, you felt so nervous. "Are you ready?" Kylian smiled as he pulled up to the hospital as you were ready for your 12 week scan as you made your way in. "Hello" you smiled as your midwife ushered you in as you laid on the bed. "How have you been feeling?" the midwife asked as you got ready to scan your stomach. "I'm okay now, feeling tons better. Tiredness was awful too" she nodded as she squeezed the cold gel on your stomach as she scanned your stomach. Kylian looked at the screen with eagle eyes. The midwife put the doppler down as she moved the screen further towards you. "Is everything okay?" You asked as you looked with scared eyes as you could see the screen more clearly now. "Yes, everything is fine. You are having not one baby, two. Twins" the midwife replied with the biggest smile on her face. "TWO?" Kylian remarked as you stared straight at the screen. "Yes sir, twins. Congratulations, I will print some scans out for you" the midwife smiled as she printed lots of scans off for you both. She cleaned her stomach as she handed you the scans as you headed back to the car. "Ky, we are having twins. Two of them" you nervously laughed as you felt like reality was setting in knowing how daunting it was that you were having not one but two babies. "We really are, this is insane. I cannot believe it at all, my mind is going crazy" Kylian laughed as you got in the car. "We need to tell people now" you nodded as you put your hand on your belly. "Two baby Mbappe's are in there" he laughed. "I need a rest after all that news if I'm honest" you laughed as you yawned. "Of course darling, anything you want" he smiled as you headed home before deciding how you were planning to announce the baby.

#kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe x reader #football imagines #football imagine #football x reader #football one shot #football one shots #futbol imagines #futbol imagine #football x you #kylian mbappe x you

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izzuku · 1 year

Text

slow your grind ──

summary── making bets with kyo means that the loser gets an embarrassing punishment whether you can take it or not.

characters ── kyo kaneko x gn reader

c/w── cockwarming, orgasm denial, slight degradation, biting, use of pet names in a mocking way (not like, a cruel way), little bit ooc since I added some role play! + Kyo being a little tease

a/n── We need more of this bitch fr. I still have to dive more into a diversity of ideas for Vtubers but for now please enjoy this fast fic of this man because he has a hold of me. Please keep in mind these are not their real personalities, all of this is fictional and it shouldn't be taken seriously!

“You better stop squirming if you don't want the whole chat to hear you, darling” the mockery tone in his voice makes your blood boil but the thrill of getting caught by thousands of viewers makes your legs shake in excitement.

“Did you say something Kyo?” you hear Ren's voice through Kyo's headset and you curse yourself while trying to hold back a low moan. You feel his hips buck forward into you, letting you ride him for a couple of seconds. You cannot move, not much since the position you're in can difficult your lover's stream.

“Oh nothin' I was just mumbling something” his laugh travels through your ears. There's not much Kyo needs to do in order to turn you on even more, he just needs to talk to you like he does to everybody else. But for you, oh, for you it's different. His harsh words and degrading remarks are enough to make you clench around him.

“Kyo your model is bugging a little bit, do you have anything blocking your view? Oh really? I don't think so. Hold up lemme get closer to the computer” he drags his chair closer to the table, getting up just a little so you can bounce down onto his cock and the sensation feels so good it has you biting his shoulder to shut up the moans.

“You're so nasty aren't you, huh..?” you can practically feel his lips next to your ear, the tip getting redder as time passes by. “You're fucking dead, you dick” you mutter under your breath, getting him to chuckle to himself.

As the stream goes by you try to roll your hips ever so often, just to get some friction. You know that part of the punishment says that you're not allowed to move but it's been almost two hours and you're getting impatient. “Please...just end the stream Kyo..I can't wait” you plead, trying to work him up with sloppy neck kisses and some grinding. Part of it worked as you saw him take a deep breath before looking at you.

“Guys I need a bathroom break, I won't take long I promise” you almost cheer aloud when he takes off his headphones and mutes the mic until you see a different smile of his. Not a genuine one, a fake one directed at you with half closed eyes. “You wanted me to help you right? Well I think I need to help myself first if you don't mind babe”. You feel his grip on your hips tightening and before you know it he's pounding into you with effort. You don't even have time to process anything before you feel his cock twitching a bit. “You break the rules, you get another punishment” his groans come along with his orgasm, shots of cum painting your insides but leaving you sore and on the edge.

And the only thing you can do is whine on his neck while you feel his cock and his cum fill you to the brim. “Good little things know how to respect the rules, you should know it by now [name]”

That's right. If you were a good little thing you'd have gotten your prize.

#izzuku #gn reader #nijisanji x gn reader #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji smut #kyo kaneko #kyo kaneko x gn reader #kyo kaneko smut

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prismuffin · 11 months

Note

hey! could you do a Soap x gn reader that's super sly all the time? they just cannot stop saying pick up lines or jokes on missions!

A/n: You didn't specify a type of fic so I went with Headcanons into a oneshot since it was the easiest to write with the amount of info given!

John "Soap" MacTavish x Sly!Flirty!Gn!Reader Headcanons

summary: ( it doesn't matter where you are, you always have some sort of witty remark ready and whenever you see Soap it just gets worse )

!-!more under the cut!-!

—You are so fun to have on 141 but god sometimes you give Ghost and Price a headache

—You're just always saying something, you always gotta have the last word and that bugs Ghost sooo much

—It's all jokes to you when you're both discussing something you both see differently on and you mumble something slick but for Ghost, he looses it so quick and immediately asks you to repeat yourself

—^Yeahhhh you've had some cleaning duty because of that

—Gaz takes the flirting as a compliment even though he knows that you flirt with everyone the same way- he knows you're not a liar.

—God forbid you're around Soap because then the flirting gets turned up to 11

—It doesn't matter where you are, you always have some sort of flirty remark ready for whenever you see Soap

—You practically ignore everyone else when he's around

—Making him laugh on missions with your abundance of dumb pick-up lines

—It's crazy how you always have a new one, Soap never knew there were that many pick-up lines in the world

—It's all the team hears over comms and they're so tired of it, be ready for Price telling you to shut up often

—Your flirting has never jeopardized a mission but it has gotten close before

—It's no secret that your flirting gets worse when you're around Soap and sometimes he wonders if that's cause you actually like him or not. He feels conflicted sometimes because he's not sure if some of these flirty comments and lines are genuine or if they're just for some fun.

—Gaz thinks you like Soap straight up, he doesn't think you're just joking around because of how extra you get when he's around. It's so obvious to him that it almost physically hurts when Soap just says you're like that with everyone.

—Ghost sees it to but he doesn't say anything, just observes from afar.

"Is he still at it?" "Yup." Ghost and Gaz stood on the opposite side of the armory, watching you leaned up against a crate of guns. Your signature smirk was on your face as you spoke, or flirted, with Soap. "How long has it been?" " 'Bout an hour," Gaz sighed as he looked back towards you two. "I'm just saying MacTavish, if you keep wearing that muscle shirt I'm not gonna know what to do with myself," Soap flexed jokingly and you swooned dramatically, causing him to laugh. Biting your lip, you looked back towards him, leaning your face a bit closer to his, not missing how his breath hitched in the moment. "No seriously, it's like you're teasing me on purpose Soap," "I-" "Y/n, get away from Soap I don't feel like hearing you two today." Turning, you noticed Price enter the armory and despite his pissed off face your smirk only grew. "Are you trying to stop young love Captain~?" He side eyed you and you chuckled, "I'm just trying to keep the morale high geez, no need to get your panties in a twist." Price was quick to turn to you, crossing his arms in the process. He gave you a warning look and your smirk dropped for a second. "Well I think you'll be on," "please dont say-" "bathroom duty today Y/n." You sighed before feeling Soaps comforting pats on your back, your mood instantly brightening again. "Hey~ you wanna meet me in the bathroom later for some fun ?" "Y/n!" Prices yell cut you off and you laughed loudly. Ghost shook his head as Gaz chuckled, there was no escaping your comments.

(I didnt know what to write for like half of this)

———

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN so feel free to request anything! Just make sure you check out my SLOTS & Request Info first!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

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7-wonders · 1 year

Text

Our Very Own Greek Tragedy (Pt. 1 of 2)

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: You love Morpheus, and Morpheus loves you. You're the happiest that you've ever been in your life, and your love's intention to propose to you is just the icing on top of the cake.

Too bad you don't remember any of this when you wake up.

Or, yes this is based on that post that I made about Reader and Morpheus being in a relationship in the Dreaming but then you don't remember your dreams when you wake up.

Word Count: 5.9k

Notes: First off, a huge thank you to @writethrough for reading this over and editing it for me. I had spent so much time on it that none of it made sense anymore and I'm SO thankful to you for offering to help me out. Seriously, I cannot thank you enough.

This is part one of a two-shot! I want to say that now bc this is so angsty, and I don't want anybody to think that I'm leaving things as they are in this fic. There will be more, and it is being written. Don't worry.

Part Two of Two

The village that lies to the east of Dream’s palace is quaint and fairy tale-esque with the cottages lining a cobblestoned street, a small market, and the general whimsy that comes with places such as this. It’s a village that you take your time meandering through, saying hello to every member of the dreamfolk that you come across (something they take great delight in), and enjoying yourself and the gift of lucidity in the Dreaming. Today, though, you’re nearly running through the village with one mission in mind: making it to Fiddler’s Green as quickly as possible.

Morpheus had left a note for you tucked into the book you were reading in the library, instructing you to meet him, and after not seeing him for a few days, you’re almost desperate to find him now. You wonder what people would say if they knew that the brooding King of Dreams and Nightmares that’s forever dressed in all-black is a romantic at heart, but it also doesn’t matter what they would say–you love it.

Fiddler’s Green is just as beautiful as always with grass swaying gently in the breeze and all manner of plant and animal life inhabiting it. It’s as if every picturesque meadow has been rolled up into one, and standing under a tree taking in his masterpiece is your favorite work of art. Though he claims he doesn’t have a favorite area of the Dreaming, that he loves every part of his realm equally, you know that Dream of the Endless is especially fond of Fiddler’s Green.

“Morpheus!” He turns around when you call his name, even though you know he sensed you the moment you arrived here. Again–he’s the most romantic sap you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

You feel almost ridiculous as you run towards him, like some left-behind lover whose soldier has returned from war. But that’s how Morpheus, and the act of loving him, makes you feel–like you’re living every great love affair and love story all wrapped into one. Even though it’s been mere days, you missed him.

Morpheus is already waiting for you with arms open, and you throw yourself into his embrace hard enough to send you both onto the lush grass. Considering Morpheus is strong enough to not even move when you collide with him—having the preternatural strength all beings that should not exist have—you think he just enjoys the feeling of collapsing into an undignified heap with you. Somehow, even in the blur of a few seconds, he’s managed to maneuver your positions so you’re under him when it should most definitely be the other way around.

You certainly won’t complain about this.

As you stare up at Morpheus, his head haloed by the rays of the sun, you can’t help but think that he looks ethereal. He’s always unfairly beautiful–it comes with the territory of being Endless, of being unable to be fully contained in a regular human body. Still, looking upon him today feels almost too much to bear, like you’re staring straight into the sun instead of just seeing the edges of it. You would gladly burn your eyes beyond repair if this was the last thing you were to see.

“Hi.” You smile at him radiantly before leaning up and kissing him. Everything feels so heightened in the Dreaming, especially emotions. You can’t just be happy here. No, it’s happiness that feels incandescent. Not that you’re complaining, of course.

His hand comes to cup your face, and you nuzzle your cheek into it. “Hello.”

There’s so much you want to say to him, but it all feels too overwhelming to even attempt to verbalize. Instead, you settle on, “I missed you.”

“As I have missed you.” The stars in his dark eyes sparkle with mirth. “You have not been sleeping properly.”

Your ears grow hot; you should have known better than to assume Morpheus wouldn’t bring this up. “I have a good reason though.”

He raises an eyebrow, daring you to try him. “Oh?”

“I’ve been busy?”

Morpheus looks entirely unimpressed at this, but you had to try.

“Listen, it’s hard for me to properly relax when I’m busy and I know that I have stuff that needs to get done!”

“You could have called upon me. I would have granted you rest.”

“Y’know, contrary to popular belief, I was able to take care of myself during rough patches prior to meeting you.”

“How you ever survived is beyond me,” he says dryly, a small chuckle forming deep in his chest when you smack at his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t ask you to leave your realm for something as stupid as me not falling asleep at a reasonable hour.”

“Nothing involving you is ever,” he makes a face because he hates cursing, finds it crude, but he’s trying to get a point across here, “‘stupid’.”

“It’s very sweet of you to offer,” you lean up in order to kiss him again, the urge becoming too strong to resist, “but I’m able to get through a couple of restless nights without you.”

The conversation comes to a stop as words are replaced with kisses. It’s only been a couple of days, but you both feel the need to reacquaint yourselves with the other’s body. Morpheus is extremely gifted with words, and that doesn’t stop when his mouth is otherwise occupied–when he touches you, he writes all the poetry he wishes to say along the surface of your skin. Long after the sensation of his fingers on your skin has faded, you’ll still feel, see, his declarations of love like an invisible tattoo.

Morpheus finally pulls his lips away from yours, making you whine as you chase after the kisses you’re being unjustly deprived of. He doesn’t move too far away, thankfully, and rests his forehead on yours.

“I believe I have a better solution to you not finding enough rest to visit me.”

“Yeah?” You’re intrigued now. “And what’s that?”

“You could simply stay here. With me.”

“While I would love nothing more than to spend both my day and my night with you, I have responsibilities that I have to, y’know, be responsible for. Besides, isn’t it you who always says that I ‘can’t live the entirety of my life in the Dreaming when the Waking is awaiting’?” You try to deepen your voice in an attempt to mock him, but it only serves to make a fond smile appear on his face.

“I have said that, but because you have always been a mere visitor to my realm.” He sits up, bringing you along with him, and holds both of your hands in his. “What if we made your residency here permanent?”

“What?”

You know what he means, but it’s a little difficult for you to wrap your brain around. You’ve discussed subjects such as marriage before, but only ever in the abstract. Never has he been so clear with his wants as he is right now.

“You want me to live here?” You were going to ask if he wants you to move in with him, but there’s a pretty big difference between moving into an apartment with someone and moving to the realm that one rules over. “With you?”

Morpheus nods. “You should be aware, though, that I am a selfish being. Were you to say yes to me, I would want it all.”

“And what is it that you want?” A smile plays at your lips, and you try desperately to hide it and act as cool and unbothered as he looks. It’s surely not working, but you at least feel like you’re holding your cards close to your chest in a situation where you’re about to burst.

“Is it really not obvious? My love, I want you. As my wife, as the queen of my realm, as my lover and best friend and companion. And in return, you would have it all as well. Everything that I have, everything that I am, would be yours—has been yours for a long time. I simply did not know it was you that I was waiting for.”

You put a hand over your mouth to hide the huge grin you’re now sporting. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“No. When I formally ask you, it shall be an occasion befitting what you deserve for a proposal. Consider this…me speaking my intention to soon ask you for your hand.”

“Can I give you my answer now?” You can’t not tell him your answer–you think you’ll burst if you have to keep it to yourself.

“You may, but I will still ask you when the time comes.”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” You kiss a different part of his face after every ‘yes’, finally kissing his lips. “I’ll marry you, and I’ll–I’ll be your queen. Whatever you want. You say you’re mine, but I’m just as wholly and completely yours. I always have been, and I always will be.”

Never have you seen Morpheus fully smile before. You consider yourself lucky to see his lips just barely quirk up in a fond smirk–sometimes he will have an actual smile, but it’s always barely there, and one needs to know what to look for when he does. Now, he grins at you, and you see why his smiles are so rare. If you thought his mere countenance rivaled the sun, his smile could put a damn supernova to shame.

When you throw yourself at him for the second time, Dream has the foresight to transport both of you to his chambers in a whirlwind of sand before your passion fully envelops you; you and a very abashed Dream Lord have taken more than enough verbal scoldings from Gilbert, who has physically manifested into his human form to admonish you against coupling at Fiddler’s Green. (You’re still ashamed when you recall the time where he said, “I am happy for you both, truly, but I must beg of you to please keep your affections to a—I believe it is called PG-13 rating—while you are here.”)

It’s a good thing that he does, because it feels impossible to keep your hands off of each other as your surroundings melt away to nothing. All there is, all you need, is you and Morpheus and this moment. The world could be burning to ash around you and you wouldn’t care, so long as Morpheus was touching you the way that he is.

You used to never understand why books and other forms of media referred to sex as “making love”. It sounded ridiculous, in your opinion; sex is…sex. Something carnal and pleasurable. If anything, you thought it should be called “making pleasure” instead. But then you met Morpheus, and suddenly it all made sense. Sexual intimacy with him is just a physical manifestation of the love you share—a love so potent it bubbles over your ability to contain it.

And oh, does that love manifest most pleasurably when you’re in bed with the King of Dreams and Nightmares. It makes your head spin just how devoted Morpheus is to you. In all situations, really, but especially in this one. It’s his realm you’re in, and he’s the one that has been mistaken for a god or deity by more cultures than can be named. He’s more powerful than any god that has ever existed or will ever exist, and yet he worships you as if you’re the one who’s holy. He would lay himself bare at your altar as a willing sacrifice, and the realization leaves you breathless. (As well as the way he’s moving his hips–that leaves you breathless, too)

Later, you’re attempting to recover your brain cells as Morpheus has you in his embrace, listening to your breathing as it finally evens out

“Do you think you’ll ever come to visit me? In the Waking?”

It’s a conversation you’ve had many times before, with Morpheus’s answer always remaining the same: no. He’s explained to you that it’s not that he doesn’t want to see you, it’s that he’s not sure if there still remains a threat in the Waking. Though you’ll never say it to him, you think he’s avoiding his trauma instead of dealing with it head-on.

“Perhaps,” Morpheus says, “if Lucienne can find out what became of the Magdalene Grimoire and the Order of Ancient Mysteries.”

“I’d protect you, you know.”

“You would?”

“Mhm. I’m scrappy.” You hold your fists up to illustrate this.

Instead of fearing your fighting prowess, Morpheus grabs one of your fists and kisses each knuckle. “Yes, you look the part.”

“I get the feeling that you’re not taking me very seriously.”

“How ever did you gather such an impression?” He smirks as he says it, your cheeky love, before brushing his thumb over your ring finger. “I confess that I’m not very familiar with the concept of wedding rings, but I do look forward to creating one for you to wear.”

“Will you wear one, too? After all, if you get to let everyone know that I’m taken, I want the same for you.”

He tries to act unaffected by your words, but you’ve known and loved him long enough to see the faintest tinge of pink on his cheeks that lets you know you’ve gotten to him. You’re about to tease him when your vision tilts for a moment before becoming fuzzy around the edges, and you frown in disappointment when you realize the familiar feeling: you’re waking up.

Morpheus senses it too, holding onto you a bit tighter as if this can keep you tethered to his realm. Unfortunately, he’s given the advice about you not living your life in the Dreaming more than you could count. To not follow it would make him a hypocrite. More often lately, it seems as though he’s regretting those words–hence him voicing his intention to propose to you.

You laugh at the obvious displeasure on his face. “Better get on that proposal sooner rather than later, huh?”

Though he scowls, he refuses to let you leave without a kiss. “Until we meet again, darling mine,” he says, his words echoing as you’re pulled back to the Waking.

•••

Whoever invented alarms must have been a sadist; there’s no other reason for them to be so loud (certainly not to be loud enough to actually wake you up). You groan at the harsh sound that repeats over and over, refusing to open your eyes as you fumble a hand along your nightstand until you feel the glass surface of your phone. Hitting it harshly a couple of times, you finally manage to turn it off and bask in the sudden, blissful silence of your room.

As you yawn and rub at your eyes, slowly stretching your limbs and procrastinating actually getting up, you try to hold onto the fleeting fragments of your dreams before they’re gone for good. You’ve never remembered the things you dream about; it’s always random glimpses, if that. More often than not, the dream completely fades by the time you’ve gotten out of bed.

Though you can’t remember your dreams, you do know that, lately, they must be rather nice. With the way you’re consistently left with residual contentment and happiness, it’s impossible that you’ve dreamt about anything not completely and totally wonderful.

What you do remember, at least before you get out of bed, are certain feelings. Before consciousness invades and wipes the slate clean to prepare you for the day ahead, there’s flashes of what you might have dreamt of. The feeling of soft skin under your fingertips, or the way the sun shines on an unruly mop of black hair. Your head in someone’s lap, and the brush of lips against yours.

You really wish you could remember those dreams.

When enough time has passed that your second alarm goes off, you grab your phone this time instead of shutting the alarm off. Though it’s certainly not the healthiest morning routine, you’ve gotten into the habit of scrolling through your phone until you’re nearly rushing to make it out the door on time. With this self-awareness in mind, you unplug your phone from your charger and roll onto your other side to lazily scroll through your notifications and apps.

Instagram and Snapchat stories show that a surprising number of people you’re acquainted with go out on weeknights, which makes you a little envious of their stamina and fortitude. Twitter hasn’t sunk like the Titanic yet–you’re not sure if you’re happy or sad about this. The couple of TikToks your friends have sent make you exhale harshly through your nose in a lazy laugh, and you respond with the appropriate emojis. There’s a few matches on Tinder and Bumble you should probably respond to, but you’re not feeling very into them at the moment (they don’t have the dark hair, alabaster complexion, and starry eyes that you’re unknowingly looking for), so you ignore the messages for now.

Finally, when you can’t put off getting out of bed any longer, you throw the covers off of you and rush through the rest of your morning routine. Brushing your teeth, making your hair look some semblance of tamed, grabbing whatever clothes are sitting on top of the basket of clean laundry you still haven’t folded, snagging something quick for breakfast, and predictably, rushing out the door. Just another boring, mundane day in your boring, mundane life.

•••

Dream of the Endless stands across the street from a small coffee shop, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. He knows why he’s so nervous, of course. Though he can claim to his trusted emissary that he’s wary of any fringe members of Burgess’s cult, it’s actually because he’s seeing you for the first time in the Waking world. In your world.

This would be so much easier in the Dreaming. In the Dreaming, he feels entirely at ease; after all, he is the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is him. But now, in a world in which he wants no part of, he feels entirely lost and out of his element.

For over 100 years, he had remained locked up in a glass prison underground. An entire century had passed by, one where he had no idea of anything that occurred in this world or any other. Fates’ sake, he hadn’t even been aware of the Second World War until he had escaped, what with Fawney Rig being too far away from any locations of significance to be hit during the Blitz, and Morpheus doing his best to tune out any of the drivel from the guards trying to pass the time.

Morpheus is still trying to get “up to speed,” so to say, in the current era. Something he is failing miserably at, if Matthew is to be believed. All of this to say, he’s regretting his spur-of-the-moment decision to visit (well, as spur-of-the-moment as a Dream Lord who is a stickler for rules can get), and he’s almost tempted to put this whole surprise to rest and wait until you arrive in the Dreaming later. It is a surprise, which means you have no idea he’s been planning this.

Those closest to him (read: Lucienne and Matthew, the only two with the balls to actually try in the first place) expressed their concern for this idea of his. After all, “Morpheus” and “surprise” are not two words that often go together. But Hob Gadling, his dear immortal human friend, had so liked it when Morpheus made an unexpected appearance that he was sure that surprise visits from those they care for must be something all humans enjoy. Besides, it’s not as if you haven’t specifically requested for him to come and see you in the Waking.

Though his mind is, and has been, made up, a certain raven holds a grudge and decides that, for once, he’s going to attempt to be the voice of reason instead of the voice of chaos. Looking up at him from where he stands on the ground next to Dream’s boot, Matthew says, “Look, I’m just saying! What if she’s not happy to see you?”

“While your concern is appreciated, Matthew, it is unwarranted. I can assure you that we last parted only because we were forced to.”

If Matthew could roll his eyes, Dream imagines that’s what he would be doing right now. “Yuck, got it. Please don’t continue with that. But, like, I thought we were chill the last time that I saw her! And then today you’ve got me running messages so I figured I’d stop and say hi, and she just ignores me when she sees me?” He scoffs in disbelief. “No, she didn’t just ignore me. She looked at me like I was a nuisance!”

“Perhaps she had you mistaken for another raven.” Morpheus’s lips twitch as he tries his hardest not to smirk at Matthew’s outrage.

“Yeah, one of the other talking ravens she knows.”

Up until now, Morpheus was unaware that such a small being could hold so much disgruntlement. It almost makes him relax. Almost.

But then he makes the mistake of seeking you out through the windows. When he finds you, the breath he doesn’t need catches in his throat.

His beloved. His soon-to-be betrothed. His future wife and queen.

You’re sitting at one of the tables against the large window, head down as you read without a care in the world. The hand not holding your book open is loosely wrapped around a paper cup sitting on the table. Late afternoon sun bathes you in warmth, and Morpheus is struck by the image you make. Oh, the beautiful dreams he could create with you as his muse (yes, he’s aware of the irony, seeing that he was married to an actual Muse (capitalized) at one time). Suddenly, Morpheus understands what you mean when you tell him he has such a ‘kingly air’ in the Dreaming. It’s because he’s in his element, somewhere he’s familiar with. Here, in the Waking, you look much the same.

Any thoughts of leaving and returning to the sanctity of his realm fled his mind the moment he saw you. Morpheus steps off of the curb to make it across the street, and it’s only Matthew’s panicked squawking and his jerking on his coat with his beak that keeps him from getting hit by a car. Right, traffic rules are much different now than they were before his imprisonment. For one, cars can go above 20 miles per hour.

“Try not to get yourself killed, lover boy.”

Morpheus glares at his raven, but finally nods once. “Stay here.”

This time, he steps onto the road after making sure there are no vehicles coming his way.

A small bell chimes above him as he opens the door of the coffee shop. Morpheus supposes this shop is the same as all others, but he hasn’t had the opportunity to experience such novelties yet, so he takes a moment to appreciate the relaxing atmosphere and the aroma of coffee beans in the air. Though he doesn’t need human food or drink to survive, he can still appreciate such things.

Finally, finally, Morpheus approaches the table you’re seated at with his hands shoved deeply into his coat pockets. You don’t look up at him, too lost in your own world, and he takes a moment to admire you before he says, “Is this seat taken?”

When you look up at him, he’s expecting you to jump up and hug him, as you do almost every time you see him (though he’s never been especially fond of hugs, he’s learning to quite like them when they come from you). At the very least, he’s expecting you to grace him with the smile he adores so much.

What he’s not expecting is what he gets, which is the complete lack of recognition in your eyes and the small, awkward smile you give him. The type of smile reserved for strangers, or people one doesn’t very much like. A cold chill runs down his spine, and he tries to push away the dread that comes along with it.

“No, I guess not,” you say begrudgingly.

You’re simply teasing him, Morpheus attempts to reassure himself as he sits down across from you. In a couple of seconds you’ll break and laugh at him for getting so worried, and everything will be alright. Convinced of this, and determined to make you break sooner rather than later, he places his hands on the table, knowing how much you love to hold hands with him.

Morpheus realizes something is wrong when you jerk your own hands away from him, sliding them into your lap protectively. Your gaze becomes guarded, and he can see the way you straighten up to try and give off an aura that you are not to be trifled with. Scrappy indeed, he thinks dryly as he tries not to immediately panic.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” you ask.

Okay, now he’s panicking. Morpheus always knows when he’s being lied to, but especially when it’s a mortal lying to him. As he looks at you, he can sense none of that deception within you. You genuinely do not recognize him, and that hurts so much worse than if this were a joke taken too far.

You’re staring at him expectantly, and Morpheus realizes you’re still waiting for an answer from him. “I–” he stutters uncharacteristically, clearing his throat before trying again. “I…apologize. It appears I have mistaken you for someone else.”

The tension you held at the potential of someone seeking to do you harm melts from your body, and your smile returns. “Ah. Sorry I’m not that person.”

“No, the fault lies with me.”

His voice is trembling, and he has to force the words out of him. This visit has gone so terribly wrong, and Morpheus needs to abscond before his emotions tear this building apart. So he stands, though it pains him to do so, and gives you a polite nod and a, “Good day to you,” before stumbling (well, stumbling as much as an Endless can) out of the coffee shop.

Matthew, who had been sitting on a bench down the street enjoying pieces of popcorn left behind, looks up at Dream in alarm when he sees the tears building in his eyes. That’s always been the one flaw of this human body–how easily tears come. At least this time, they’re warranted.

“Hey, Boss, what happened?” Matthew asks, abandoning his snack to land on Dream’s shoulder. “You didn’t…oh no, you broke up, didn’t you?”

He shakes his head. If only it were that simple. “No. She did not recognize me. I was a mere stranger, interrupting her day.”

“What? How is that even possible?”

“I do not know.”

He’s completely and utterly lost right now, and wouldn’t even mind his sister throwing a loaf of bread at him as she did the last time he felt this lost. If it would give him the same sense of clarity as that visit with dear sister Death had, then he would take it. But instead, he takes one last look at you, back to reading your book, before fleeing to sulk in the Dreaming and wonder how it all went wrong.

•••

The weird interaction you had earlier sticks with you as you get ready for bed. It had just been so odd, how sure this man was that you were whoever he assumed you to be. Though you felt bad for his obvious disappointment when he learned otherwise, you were glad to be rid of his presence after he briskly left the café. Sure, he was attractive (like, otherworldly, would-make-a-model-burst-into-jealous-tears attractive), but the intensity he carried with him…well, it scared you a little bit.

Apparently, though, it didn’t scare you enough to not think about him. There was just something about him that made him impossible to forget. You huff angrily, not wanting to think of the man with pitch black hair and starry blue eyes, but your brain seems to have other ideas as you try and fall asleep. No matter, because sleep thankfully comes quickly to you tonight, aided by a cup of tea that, while not your favorite, did give you the desired effect of actually falling asleep at a normal hour.

It’s when you find yourself in the Dreaming’s library, wondering if you’ll need to track Morpheus down today, when it hits you. The stranger at the café who you didn’t know at all was actually the love of your life…the love of your life that you didn’t recognize when he was standing right in front of you.

Why hadn’t you recognized him?

Your heart drops, and keeps falling, when you think about how upset Morpheus must be. This, in turn, makes you extremely upset as well. What the hell is going on right now? You need answers, and since you’re in the Dreaming, there’s only one person (well, two people, but that’s neither here nor there) that can give you some.

“Lucienne?” you call out, knowing she’ll appear sooner rather than later and that it’s no use to go looking for her.

Sure enough, she’s standing in front of you in a matter of seconds, wearing a purple overcoat and with her glasses perfectly polished. Seeing a friendly face such as hers would normally make you smile, but you’re too anxious right now to do such a thing.

“Where’s Morpheus right now?”

“His Lordship is in the throne room, conducting some research. May I–”

You’re already running out of the library before she can finish, calling out, “Thanks, Luc! Sorry!”

As you sprint along the hallways that you know as well as your own home now (but do you? would you remember them when you wake up?), you take note of the dreary weather outside and the rain rolling down the windows in fat beads. Morpheus once told you the realm’s weather was often dependent on his mood. If it was raining right now, then surely he’s upset. Worse, you’re the cause of it.

“Morpheus?” You seek him out the moment the heavy doors to the throne room open ahead of you. He’s sitting on his throne at the top of the long stairway, piles of books haphazardly scattered around him. He’s been crying, you can tell, which makes the tears you’ve been holding back spill forth. “Oh, Dream.”

Rather than take the stairs down to you, Morpheus simply magics himself in front of you as you cry at how heartbroken he looks. Wordlessly, he hugs you. If this weren’t such a dire situation, you’d be thrilled he took the initiative for once.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t–Why didn’t I recognize you? I’m sorry, I wasn’t doing that on purpose.”

“Do not apologize. Please, for you have nothing to apologize for,” he soothes.

“Yeah, I do.” You pull away from his hold to look at him. “I asked you to come and visit me, and you were nice enough to actually plan to surprise me, all for me to not even know you. You must have been crushed.”

“It was not your fault.” His eyes grow a bit distant as he thinks for a moment. “I should have known, actually. Matthew was very upset that you ignored him, and believed that you did not care for him any longer.”

That memory suddenly comes back to you, of a raven who landed in your path and refused to move no matter how harshly you shooed him away, and you groan. “Oh no! Great, now I have to apologize to him too.”

“There will be no apologizing for anything from you.” His tone of voice leaves no room for argument, so you simply nod. You’ll just slip Matthew a bagel when Morpheus isn’t paying attention.

“Why can I not remember you?”

“I confess that I do not know.” He reluctantly releases you from the warmth of his arms, only so he can hold his hand out to you. “Come.”

When you grab his hand, you feel the whooshing of sand around you before you find yourself with him in the library. Inexplicably, the books he had been reading are sitting on a table next to the plush reading chairs. You’ve long since learned not to question “how” or “why” when in the Dreaming.

“Lucienne has graciously offered her services in helping me discover why you cannot remember the Dreaming, and how we can remedy that,” he explains, taking a seat. You go to sit next to him, only for him to pull you into his lap instead. You should have known better than to sit away from your touch-starved Endless. “I have a couple of contacts in the Waking as well, who may be able to help should we not find answers here.”

You’re touched, but your natural reaction is to joke. “All this for little old me?”

“You will find that there is nothing that I would not do for you, beloved.”

It’s such a simple phrase, uttered quickly before Morpheus picks up the book he had been reading and begins to peruse again. Yet, coming from him, it sounds like the sweetest music, sweet enough to have your heart thumping against your rib cage. You know Morpheus can feel it, because he always does, so you tamp down the embarrassment and grab a book of your own.

If the evening wasn’t spent searching for why you can’t remember the Dreaming, this would be a pleasant way to pass the time with your lover. The rain has slowed from a torrential downpour to a regular rainstorm, making the library feel cozy and peaceful. It’s quiet, save for turning pages and the occasional note from you or Morpheus. Best of all, you get to simply be with Morpheus, with no expectations for either of you.

You almost forget the reason you’re here until your vision tilts familiarly and your body feels heavy. Sitting up, you grab onto Morpheus’s coat in a last-ditch effort to keep yourself in the Dreaming as panic consumes you.

“No, don’t make me wake up,” you plead, even though he can’t do anything about it. “Please, I don’t want to forget you again.”

“Shh,” he attempts to soothe. “It will all be alright. You will wake up with no memory of this, and go about your day, and when you come back to me, I will have found a way for you to remember your time here. I swear to you that I will find a way.”

He’s sincere in his promises, you know that, but none of it helps the animal terror that comes with knowing you’re going to forget. You try to voice this, but can only continue to repeat, “No, no, no, it’s–”

You shoot up in bed, one hand on your heaving chest as your eyes dart wildly around the room for some perceived threat. Once you become aware enough to realize it was simply a nightmare, you groan and rub the tear tracks (when did you start crying?) from your face. After so many nights of wonderful dreams, you forgot how terrible nightmares can be.

It’s times like these where you’re glad you don’t remember what it was about.

You’re tempted to go back to sleep so you can wake up again on a better note, but your alarm, that old enemy, chooses that moment to go off. Rolling your eyes, you huff before shutting it off and reluctantly getting out of bed to start your morning routine. Brushing your teeth, making your hair look some semblance of tamed, grabbing whatever clothes are sitting on top of the basket of clean laundry you still haven’t folded, snagging something quick for breakfast, and predictably, rushing out the door.

Just another boring, mundane day in your boring, mundane life.

•••

Tag list of those who asked to be tagged on the original post (let me know if you'd like to be tagged in Part Two!): @igotanidea @chocogoths @kiwistarfruit @crafygamerscrafts @aspenmushroom69

#morpheus #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman imagine #the sandman

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