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helloheyhihowdyheya · 3 months

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Rose Thorn Blues | pt. 5 (final)

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Masterlist

Summary: Spider-Man saved everyone he could. But this time, you have to save him — and yourself.

Word count: ~10.4k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! (We're finally to the lovers part <3) Canon-level violence. Swearing, blood, injuries. Angst. Fluff and more fluff!! Love confessions!!! And smooching ;)

A/n: Today's my birthday, so here's a little birthday present to all of you :) Thank you all for your patience with this story. It's the longest one I've written, and I'm grateful for everyone that's read it. Your comments mean the world.

I'd be happy to write an epilogue or little snippets of their lives during or after this story if anyone would be interested. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy <3

Pain. Unrelenting pain settling deep into your body was the first thing you noticed. Your closed eyes squeezed shut harder as the back of your head pounded, a shaky exhale leaving your cracked lips. You could feel dried tears stuck along the planes of your cheeks.

When you tried moving your arms, you found you couldn’t — not with them bound behind you to the chair you sat in, and not with the deep ache stretching from your shoulders down to your wrists. The skin there felt rubbed nearly raw by rope holding them together. Even your chest and ankles were tied to the chair.

Despite the ache in your ribs, you forced yourself to take long, deep breaths. Each one shook through you. Blinking slowly, you let your blurry vision adjust. The bright fluorescents were now dimmer than before, only half of them on. You shivered slightly, goosebumps raising across your skin in the cool temperature of the warehouse.

Forms of people here and there began to come into focus in front of you. They seemed to be packing things into large boxes, the same wooden ones you’d seen before. And as you took in the tall windows and many shelves, you saw that you were in a shadowy corner of this godforsaken warehouse.

You could’ve screamed if your throat wasn’t so dry and your head wasn’t swimming. Your jaw ached as you clenched your teeth together over and over again. Panicked, uncontrolled thoughts flew through your hazy awareness. No matter how hard you tried to swallow them back, you couldn’t ignore the worry festering in your stomach — one uneasy idea decomposing into another.

Where was Peter?

A thin breath punched from your lungs as you remembered the hurt in his voice over the phone. He’d never allowed you to see him like that before, but still, you could picture his face twisting and the blood staining his suit dark. The image floated on the edges of your vision as you scanned the people moving throughout the warehouse.

Somehow, no guard stood watch over you. If what Will had said before about his horrible suit being missing, his workers must have been scouring the city — stretching his people thin and unable to be everywhere all at once.

With a possible window of opportunity open and beckoning you to take, you shifted your wrists, testing out the rope around them. Wiggling your arms made the binding a tiny bit looser. Each movement stretched them out but brought burning pain with it. It wouldn’t get you anywhere but tired and too hurt to function.

Like Peter, desperate and hurt. Who tried to keep you from walking into your demise… using secrets and lies. You clenched your teeth, hoping the pressure of it could shove away these half-feelings twisting and knotting around themselves.

So, you looked around, careful not to turn your head too abruptly in case any workers looked over. Though, even from afar, all of them looked terrified to do anything but hastily pack. Orders from Will himself, you were sure of it.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a jagged metal beam broken and sticking out from a beat-up shelf. It looked dull, but it came to a point. It’d have to do.

As silently as you could, you used your feet to inch the chair backward — timing each push with the sound of people shouting at one another or loudly loading up a crate. Your ears rang and your rapid heartbeat dulled your focus, distracting you with each intense spike of your nerves firing off.

Over several minutes, you positioned your bound hands to the piece of metal shelving and began to rub the rope across it. You paused at each lull, each possible moment that you might be caught. It gave you temporary relief from the strain pulling in your shoulders as you continued sawing away at the rope.

Sweat beaded across your skin as time passed — how long exactly, you weren’t sure. But eventually, the strands turned thinner. They felt as tight and ready to snap as your resolve. But when the rope loosened, becoming big enough for your hands to wiggle out, it instead filled your body with quenching relief.

The rope had barely pooled along the concrete floor before you began working on the binding stretching across your chest to hold your torso to the chair. It was tedious and forced your aching arms in horrible positions, but you pulled and pulled at the binding, squirming around to even gain an inch of room.

It kept catching on the bunched-up fabric of your clothes, but it moved. So, so slowly, it moved. It was an effort to keep your breaths silent when you wanted nothing more than to just shout for anyone to come help you. But Peter wasn’t here to help, so you sunk your teeth into your lip and kept quiet as the rope loosened.

Pushing your elbows out, you slipped the rope over your head. You allowed yourself only one unrestrained inhale before bending at the waist and working on the knot tying your ankles to the chair. Your fingers worked quickly, your eyes constantly trained on the workers as you moved. But the sight of that rope falling from your body made you blink away stinging tears.

Your best bet would likely be looking for a back exit and hoping you could sneak by anyone there — or fight your way out if it came to that. On unsteady legs, you raised yourself up, ignoring the wave of sharp pain pulsing at the back of your head and down your spine.

But before you could even take a step, get a real breath of freedom in your lungs, a sharp blade appeared at your neck.

“Going somewhere, sunshine?”

Within an instant, William Beaumont appeared next to you, and had he not held a tight grip to your upper arm, you might have collapsed. Though the blade pressed against you, your body instinctually writhed to get away from him. But even in the dim lighting, you saw the darkness that clung to him, the stillness in his eyes, the heavy weight he held. This wasn’t the Will you met before.

“Or Rose, is it?” he asked, his voice cold and calculated.

He pulled you forward and yanked your arms behind you. Your throat felt tight, your chest ready to rip open as you felt a zip tie tighten around your wrists — the plastic rubbing right where the rope had been just minutes ago. It had been too easy. Did he give you that hope on purpose? Just a lion toying with its food? A wretched feeling of fear shot through you at the thought.

Will shoved you back in the chair, a labored grunt shooting out of your lungs and a dizziness hitting you. Once he was sure you weren’t going to get up again, he took a step back, careful to keep the long blade pointed at your throat.

You dully registered a piece of wood rolling to your feet as Will aimlessly paced before you, kicking scattered debris. Sweat coated his skin, his hair damp against his forehead. For a minute, he just wordlessly walked back and forth, his eyes staring unfocused toward the ground. But you couldn’t look at his face for long, not with the sunken shadows settling into each curve of his expression. He almost looked sickly. Your gaze instead dropped to the handgun tucked into the back of his waistband; then you looked to the sharp piece of metal in his hand, recognizing it as one of the wrecked pieces from the Green Goblin’s glider.

When he paused, your breaths stopping too, he turned to stare at you. “Where’s my suit?” he asked, simply and without room for negotiation.

Despite the nearly deafening roaring of your heartbeat, you held his stare and willed your voice to come out steady. “Where’s your father?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you wondered how you hadn’t ever seen the similarities between those two before — the eerie air around them.

“Ellis is a bit busy at the moment. Why? Want to snoop around his mansion some more?” He tilted his head, pursing his lips just slightly. The look brought an anger next to your fear — anger and frustration that they could do good with what they had and keep their promises, but they were just adding more filth to the city.

He came closer then, squatting down so he was nearly eye level with you. You could barely stand to look at him this close, but you did your best not to flinch away. It was just another character you had to play.

Almost unnoticeable, you saw him wince in pain as he lowered. Watching him, you swallowed the fear trickling down your spine and asked, “Feeling sore?” At his unimpressed look, you merely squared your shoulders, raising your chin.

A breathy half-laugh escaped his lips. He stared down at his hand as he flexed it. “Jus’ some growing pains…” He shrugged. “ No change comes without a cost.”

“And is the cost worth all this?” you asked, your eyes motioning to the wreckage of the warehouse behind him.

“I’m just living up to the Beaumont family name. We’re cutting through endless miles of red tape with a snap of my fingers. I think you know the answer.”

“Your fingers?” you questioned. “Ellis is making you do all the dirty work?”

Will just rolled his eyes, his grip growing tighter on the blade. Letting out a sharp breath, he stood up, his body wavering just barely as he did so. Still, you went rigid as he towered over you. “Where’s the suit?”

You shook your head, trying to stay calm. But your resolve, this mask, pulled in all directions. “You said you wanted to educate people. What kind of change can be worth whatever you have planned? Worth a super suit and bodily experiments?” You remembered the way he’d bent the shelving’s metal like it was nothing.

“I prefer the term enhancements actually. Because they have made me better. Made it easier to ‘negotiate’ with clients. To educate the city on who really controls things around here.” He stared down at you, letting his words sink in.

Your tone rose, a tightness taking hold of your throat. “And who controls it? It’s certainly not you if your daddy’s bossing you around.” Despite the cold anger flaring behind his features, you continued. “Who says he won’t just keep you as his little lackey to do his bidding forever?”

His jaw twitched, his hand gripping the blade harder. You fought the terrified waves of nausea sitting in your stomach as he said, “Shut your mouth. You know nothing about the empire he’s planned for me.”

Your voice lowered with venom pooling around your tongue, one eyebrow raising. “Oh, and he’d never lie for his own personal gain, right? Even at the harm of others?”

“Where’s the suit?” he gritted out.

“I don’t know.”

You jolted backward as he slammed the metal blade against one of the shelves. The echoing clang of the hit made you curl into yourself, the blood draining from your heart.

His hand raised high, clenched above his head, before it slowly unfurled. He pressed his fingers into his temples. “I’m not in the fucking mood for this.” Punctuating each word with a step closer, he said, “Where. Is. The. Suit?”

A pulsing vein appeared along his neck, his breathing coming harder. Your hope of getting out of here dwindled with each second he got closer to losing it.

Trying to keep your voice calm, you said, “Will, I swear I don’t know.”

He charged toward you then, gripping your chin in his hand despite the yelp you let out. “You’ve come to this warehouse before. You’ve been in our house. You stole blueprints. And you think I’m going to believe you?”

You let out a shaky exhale, muscles twitching and screaming at you to get away from him. “I never broke in here. I wouldn’t be able to take all those boxes of the suit by myself, not without being seen. I don’t know where it is.”

His gaze considered you, roaming across your face like he was listing all the ways to torture the information from you. “Then you had help. Maybe that little ‘husband’ of yours knows — he might talk more than you when we find him.” He paused, his hold on you growing a little tighter, making you wince. “And that spider will talk when we string him up and force it out of him.”

Your expression dropped, your eyebrows tightening together. So they didn’t know Peter was Spider-Man, at least not yet. And if you could get out of here alone, it could stay that wa-

A flash of red flew past the windows near the warehouse’s ceiling. Any sense of calm, no matter how forced, dissipated into uncatchable smoke. No, he couldn’t be here. He couldn’t bring himself right into the waiting mouth of the beast that was hunting him. Silently, you pulled at the zip tie holding your wrists.

“Speaking of cutting through red tape…” Will muttered as a thud on top of the roof had his gaze shooting upward. Silence covered the entire building — all of the workers immediately stopped their movements.

You could barely slump forward when Will let go of your chin before he brought the blade back to your neck, his body standing behind you. His words echoed as he called out, “Come on out, Spider-Man! I promise we’ll let her go…”

Your eyes squeezed shut as the pain in the back of your head pounded harder, tears threatening to pool on your eyelashes. You whispered, “And then what? Where does this end, Will?”

A jagged smile was evident in his words. “Who says the fun ever has to end?” His hands forced your head to turn, your gaze pointed toward the warehouse entrance. “Isn’t that right, father?” Will asked loudly, calling to the man walking toward you both with a gun at the ready.

The sight dropped a deadening weight into your stomach. Ellis looked wild, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His usual well-kempt look was forgotten, his suit ragged and hair free from its slicked-back style. More guards continued to enter the warehouse after him, and you couldn’t stop your entire body from shaking.

“Or maybe the fun’s just beginning,” Will said into the curve of your ear. It made you stretch to get away from him, but that only pushed your neck further into the blade — pain prickling along your skin.

You revolted against the dread, the horrific realization, that you may watch Peter die here — while he was trying to save you. It took everything in you to not let it incapacitate your ability to think or even function.

Ellis directed the guards this way and that. You watched with unfocused attention as he followed the large group up toward the roof. Normally, you would say he was sending them to their demise with Spider-Man up there. But an injured, desperate Spider-Man? That struck icy fear into your veins.

And you’d never known Spider-Man to have a noisy approach — careless enough to make noise and draw the enemy’s attention to himself. He’d have to play it smart, which became evident a few minutes later when Will yelled to one of his guards… and got no response. Peter was picking them off one by one in here while they searched for him outside.

Will’s free hand gripped tightly to your shoulder, his body continuously moving in small twitches. You could feel how on edge he was, and you wondered just how dangerous this family could be. Full power over the city, and all they needed now was to remove the one man stopping them.

You fought to keep your breathing even, your mind clear, so you could stay calm. And it worked to ground you just as a web shot from the sky. At blinding speed, it hit Will’s arm, sending the blade flying away from you. It clattered across the floor, the sound the sweetest thing you’d ever heard. Before he could fully realize what had happened, you lifted your foot and brought it down against his knee using every bit of strength you had.

By the time he’d crumpled to the floor, you’d run the other way. His scream froze your heart, but you knew he wouldn’t be down long with whatever experiments were coursing through him. Weaving between shelves with your hands still bound behind you, you tried to find somewhere safe — maybe the back entrance you’d planned to go to before.

But there were sure to be more guards outside now, and you couldn’t get far with your hands tied together. Your steps slowed, trying to become silent as you looked around for something sharp. Among the debris were ammo, rope, chemicals… but nothing to cut the zip tie.

Will’s words sounded far enough away, but that didn’t stop your head from whipping in his direction as he yelled, “You’ll fucking regret that!” Without so much as a breath, you took small steps backward away from the threat.

You only got a few feet when a gloved hand wrapped around your mouth. Before you could even scream, you were lifted into the air. The warehouse passed in a blur, but relief broke through as you felt summer night air hit your skin — as you recognized the sounds of the man swinging you both a few blocks away.

The two of you landed in a different alley, this one empty and finally safe. A second later, you felt the snap of the zip tie, and your wrists came free.

“Thought you might need a han-”

He only spoke those few words before you turned around to lunge into his arms. A quiet grunt shot out of him as you hugged him until your arms shook. You sniffled back tears budding up, your fingers clenching tight onto his suit. You breathed in him.

“Peter,” you whispered against him.

“Uh… I’m not sure who that is. The name’s Spide-”

“Shut up,” you interrupted, shaking your head as you pressed in closer to him. You could have sobbed when his arms wrapped around you too. To have him here, real, and breathing felt like the aching quiet after waking up from an unending nightmare, like the first rays of morning sunlight peeking above the horizon.

But the memory of when the two of you last spoke washed over your senses in an unrelenting tidal wave. You pulled back, your hold on him tightening as you looked at him. Your breath fizzed away like bubbling remnants of the crashed wave.

Blood splattered across his suit, broken up by dirt and rips along his body. His chest rapidly rose and fell, tired in a way you’d never seen the superhero. He’d pulled his arms from you— one of his hands rested against the building, using it to hold his weight. His other hand wrapped around his left side where blood-coated webs held together what looked to be a bullet wound. But what stole the breath from your lungs, what grabbed you and forced you to come to terms with all that’d happened, was his face.

A jagged tear in his mask stretched from his cheek to his forehead, leaving one of his bloodshot eyes exposed. The skin around it looked marred with cuts and aching bruises. At the top of the rip, pieces of his shaggy hair stuck to his forehead. He was barely recognizable. Your bottom lip trembled, no matter how hard you tried to stop it. But before you could open your mouth, Peter brought you back in against him, hugging you tight. He whispered, “Thank God you’re okay.”

Pressing your hands against his chest, you created a little bit of space despite how your body protested. “Peter… are you okay?”

His exposed eye traced across your face, the soft brown looking paler than usual. “I’m fine. I got the suit out — and hidden. That’s what matters.”

You gave him an exhausted look because that was not all that mattered, not as he stood there looking like that, but you didn’t argue further. He was here. And stubborn.

So you just allowed yourself to do what you hadn’t done before the fundraiser. Raising your hand, you paused for a brief moment before gingerly fixing his hair. You tucked the strands back under the mask before swiping a thumb across his forehead.

His hand came up to grab your wrist, lowering it from his hair but not letting go of you.

“How are you doing?” he asked. His fingers were gentle against the marks on your wrist.

You blinked against the throbbing in your head but nodded, breathing out, “Uh… yeah. I’ll be okay.”

And too many other things to say passed your mind, some you wanted to tell him and others you couldn’t. With a hoarse voice and downcast eyes, you settled on, “You came.”

You hoped he heard all you meant underneath those two words.

And you didn’t have time to register his answer — “of course” — as he moved his grip from your wrist down to your hand. He squeezed once then let it return to your side.

“Okay, I need to head back,” he said, raising his arm to shoot a web back in the direction of the warehouse, “please head to the hospital, and stay safe. I’d bring you there myself, but–” He gestured to his injured side, his face wincing in pain.

Instantly, your face twisted, a dizziness coming over you as any relief you had shattered to the ground. “You’re not going back in there. Not like this,” you nearly pleaded, your words coming out faster. “You’ve done enough. Call- call the police, and let them handle it.”

He shook his head. “I already called them. But with Will’s powers, it’ll be a massacre. I’ve got to go.” He said it with such certainty, with no room for argument. He tried to step past you, his gaze stoically not meeting yours.

“Then I’m coming too.” You stepped to the side with him. You hurriedly explained, “Something’s not right with Will, like his body is struggling with whatever’s coursing through him. So I think if we-”

“What? No. I mean, yes,” he told you. “Will is using DNA from supervillians, and I think his body’s rejecting it. But no, you’re not coming with me.”

“Could we somehow increase his symptoms then, or speed them up?” Your palms came up to rest against his chest. His heartbeat pounded rapidly beneath your touch.

“I mean, probably. If we incubated it with heat or lights maybe, but…” He cocked his head. “Stop talking like we’re doing this together. We’re not.”

Turning your chin up at him, you argued, “Well the plan where you get yourself killed sucks.”

“Well I happen to like the plan where you get killed a lot less, so you’re staying,” he said, raising an arm to shoot out a web again. He held stern, but you heard the exhaustion coating his words, how tired he really was.

Spider-Man always had a plan, Peter always knew what to do. And now it seemed his only plan was to stop Will at all costs — even at the cost of his own life. You shoved away the emotion that thought brought bubbling up your throat.

You clenched your hands into fists, refusing to let him go so easily. “Peter, you’re not leaving me in the dark anymore. The secrets and hiding have to stop here.”

You watched his eyebrow sink into a frown, his voice becoming more serious than you’d ever heard. “Secrets and hiding? Yeah, I have to keep my identity hidden, but don’t you get why I did all of this?” He asked as if it was the most obvious question. His hands gestured out to the side as he took a step back — your own hands falling away from him.

He turned his head away from you, and you could only watch his jaw clench and unclench with each passing second. The silence rang in your ears, until he breathed out, “It was to keep you safe. ‘Cause all this? It does no good if… if you’re gone.”

You held your breath, feeling your heart beating wildly throughout you. Heat crawled up your body at his words. Quietly, you asked, “What does me being gone have to do with stopping Beaumont?”

Shaking his head, Peter breathed out the ghost of a laugh. In an instant, he stepped so closely that it nearly gave you whiplash. Slowly, the tips of his fingers slipped under his mask to pull it above his mouth. He shifted even closer, his lips merely an inch from yours as his hands cupped your jaw. His body overtook all of your senses. He whispered, “Christ, are you this dense on purpose?”

With that, his lips pressed against yours, your eyes fluttering shut on instinct. At first, you didn’t move at all — afraid that it would break whatever moment you somehow found yourself in. Thoughts and emotions yelled for your attention, for you to analyze what was happening, but none were quite as loud as the feeling of his body melding against yours. That familiar warmth of him enveloped you, and all you could do was melt with him.

It wasn’t like the hurried kissing at the fundraiser, all teeth and tongue and newness. This almost felt familiar, as if you could come home to this every day. Your hands snaked up, holding onto his shoulders as he dulled your senses into a fuzziness. You felt your mind nearly go blank — but not completely.

With waning will power, you pulled away, trying not to relish in the soft noise that escaped his throat as you did so. You both caught your breath — the yearning exhales mingling in the small space between you. And with the way his hands still held onto you, now dropped down along your body to find a home on your hips, you knew there was no way he’d let you go with him.

“I… you, uh, need to get back” you began with a long, heavy breath. Swiping your tongue across your bottom lip, you took a resistant step backward. He kept one hand on yours as you moved. “Just, Peter, please be safe.”

He slowly nodded, and you watched every movement as he grabbed his mask and brought it back down. His thumb rubbed along your skin. “Yeah, yeah. Of course. And after…”

“After?” you asked, smiling at him.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “After. Let me take you out.”

“After,” you promised. You swallowed, wrapping a hand around his forearm and squeezing once. But before he could move away, you said, “Wait! Do you have anything I could use? To defend myself, I mean. I’d just feel safer — in case I happen to run into their guards on my way to the hospital.” You offered a closed mouth smile, one that told him not to worry too much about you.

“Uh, yeah…” he said, patting along his suit and up to his wrists. Removing part of his left webshooter, he set a small metal piece into your palm. You thought it looked almost like a flash drive as he curved your fingers over it.

“It’s not ideal, but it’s the best I have right now. It helps control my electric webs, so you can use this part as a sort of taser if someone comes at you,” he explained, waiting until you nodded before pulling you into a hug. It crushed your body, feeling like a hug you’d give someone you might not see for a long time. Or ever again.

So, you whispered, “Good luck,” and watched as he stepped away and swung away slowly. One of his hands still held tight to his side.

You waited there for a minute, bringing a thumb up to your lips. You felt how they still tingled and how they curved into a smile. But as soon as you were sure Peter had made it back to the warehouse already, you began making your way there with quick steps.

Maybe you were in over your head. Peter would probably call you stupid or reckless. But if he couldn’t handle if something happened to you, then he’d have to understand why you weren’t leaving him to go in there alone.

So you found yourself marching back to the place you never hoped to return to. Intense pounding went through your head with each step. Your palm felt slick with sweat, but you held tight onto the makeshift taser until your knuckles began to ache.

You were glad the warehouse was so secluded — hopefully no passerbyers would get caught in the fray. Or hear the commotion coming from inside. The muffled noise came from the far side of the building, near the front, so you hugged the opposite side of the alley as you made your way to the back. You guessed that they all concentrated on where Peter must have made an appearance, which only left one guard standing at the door.

Eyes flicking to the ground, you caught a glimpse of rock sitting in the cracks of the alleyway. Silently picking it up and pressing yourself into the shadows, you took a steadying breath that did little to calm your nerves in the midst of this insane idea. Still, your shaky arm reeled back to throw the rock up and over the guard, making it land on the other side of him.

As soon as he turned away from you, gun trained on the strange noise, you stepped from the dark and crept toward him. You gave yourself no time to second guess yourself before coming up behind him. Your internal monologue repeated, Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god as you raised the taser.

But as you went to press the taser into the guard, he turned back around in shock — throwing his elbow into your cheek in the process. A silent groan sat in your throat as your mouth hung open, a loud ringing going through your head. Pain bloomed outward from your face, and it took a moment to push past your swimming vision. Using all your strength, you lunged at him again and shoved the taser into the flesh of his neck.

In an instant, his body began convulsing. You did your best to try and let his weight down gently, but he just slid to the ground alongside you, unconscious and still twitching. Pushing him off, you sat on your knees and tried to catch your breath. You let the pain slowly dull with each passing second.

As you sat there, a glimpse of white against his dark uniform caught your eye — an ID badge hanging off his hip. It worked perfectly against the card reader at the back door, unlocking with a soft click for you to slip through. And there you were again, stood in the mouth of the beast once again.

In the back hallway away from the open floor, you could hear crashing and yelling coming from across the building. You only made it a few feet before footsteps sounded from the end of the hallway. Deep voices echoed off the concrete walls, each word louder than the next. You didn’t move or breathe until eventually, finally, they began to grow quieter.

From where you stood, heart still in your throat, you could tell the warehouse lights were still dimmed. So you searched along the walls, ears always listening for anyone coming back. You opened up the door after finding a circuit breaker, tracing a finger down the length of it. None of the switches were labeled, so after a moment of consideration, you flipped them all on — washing the building in bright fluorescents.

And just a few feet down the hall sat the thermostat. It was set to 65 degrees, but your hand quickly turned the dial up to the 89 degree mark. Within a few seconds, you heard the heater turn on and rumble through the vents.

You nodded, hopeful that this could begin weakening Will enough for Peter to take him out. While bleeding and injured. While dozens of guards also tried to kill him. How could you let him come back here? How could he come back here and make you come back here to help his ass?

You began to turn around to go find him when a heavy hand landed on your shoulder.

“Freeze-”

A gasp caught in your throat as you whipped around out of instinct and fear, immediately shoving the makeshift taser at the woman. It connected with the bottom of her jaw. With wide eyes, you watched as her body shook and fell to the ground just like the other guard. Your hand came up to cover your mouth while you stared. You didn’t think you would ever get used to that.

Slowly, you backed away down the hall. You did manage to grab her gun and hide it on a shelf when you made your way out there — rather than take it and risk shooting yourself or Peter, even if he did have superpowers.

Superpowers that you almost began to resent as you stepped into the open area of the warehouse — and the man himself immediately dropped down in front of you. You placed your hand over your mouth and swallowed the yelp that threatened to escape. Instead, you watched Peter as he guided the both of you behind a shelf.

His chest rose and fell much too quickly, his stance wavering and unsteady. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to affect his attitude though, as he came closer and angrily whispered, “What the hell are you doing here? I can’t believe you did this.”

You gave him a soft, disbelieving look, a closed-lipped smile on your face. “Yes, you can.”

He brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. A long sigh left his mouth. “Alright,” he said, “I can believe it. But you need to leave now.” He tried weakly pushing you toward the back door again.

You didn’t budge. “Oh, okay. Yeah, now that I’ve snuck in to help — by electrocuting two guards into unconsciousness, by the way — I’ll just go on my merry way,” you whispered back, twisting your face into a mocking expression. “How about you shut up and just let me help?”

“That’s why you asked for the weapon?” He quietly groaned before looking at you again, his head cocking. “Two guards? That’s not bad.”

“Thank you. Now, I’ve turned up the heat and lights. So let’s go.”

For a moment, he considered you. His eye covered by the mask looked expressionless, distant. But his exposed eye made you pause — his gaze feeling resigned, desperate in a way that made your heart twist. You didn’t want to imagine the other compromises or sacrifices Spider-Man has had to make over the years. And you didn’t have time to. So you swallowed those thoughts and simply grabbed his hand, entwining your fingers with his to pull him farther into the warehouse.

As you slowly moved down the aisles, you whispered, “Give me one of your web shooters.”

You already knew his answer from the blank stare he shot sideways at you. “I’m not giving you one of my web shooters. I need them.” Part of his words told you he really did need them to get you both through this. The other part said he didn’t trust you to not accidentally shoot him with his own webs.

“Well don’t you have an extra one or something?” you shot back.

“Do you see this suit? Where could I even keep an extra web shooter on me?” he quietly asked, his free hand raising outstretched and exasperated.

You let your eyes trail across the suit per his suggestion — until Peter said, “Okay, that’s enough ogling.” And even for the briefest of moments, it felt good to smile with him.

But at another crash several aisles down, he stiffened. You felt his rapid heartbeat pulse against your skin as he held up a hand. “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

You tried to squeeze his hand, to give him some sort of mention to be careful or to not get himself killed out there, but his fingers slipped through yours as he instantly swung away. Your palm radiated leftover warmth as you hid, thinking through the plan. Hopefully, the two of you wouldn’t have to wait long for Will to show symptoms, which would just leave many guards and Ellis. Peter seemed confident that they couldn’t fight their way out of this.

But under the commotion of guards around the warehouse, yelling and fighting coming from seemingly everywhere, you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps until they were too close. Whipping around, you saw Ellis appear at the end of the aisle, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. He raised his gun, aiming it right at you as he said, “Found you now.” His voice sounded colder, void of any of the charm he had when speaking to the public.

Instinctively, you backed away from him — from the man that made cold dread creep through your body and steal the breath from your lungs — but your steps stuttered when a web came from the ceiling and yanked the gun from Ellis’ grip. It flew upward, but you didn’t wait to see Ellis’ reaction before silently thanking Peter and sprinting the other way.

Only to be met with Will standing on the other side of the long aisle.

His twisted smile and disheveled hair falling into his face fueled the icy weight dropping into your gut. His bloody fingers tightened around the end of the blade he held in one hand. The other gripped a pistol.

You turned to look back at Ellis to see him fighting against more webs. As Will approached with heavy steps, his arm shaking as he aimed his gun at you, you forced your body to move.

Without thinking, you ducked and crawled past boxes sitting on the large shelf and emerged into the next aisle. You couldn’t think about the thudding sounds of bullets hitting metal around you.

You knew he’d be on you soon, his mutated powers making him too powerful. So you crawled across to the next aisle, pushing aside scattered equipment before throwing yourself through that shelf too. You went through a few more aisles and shelves to create at least a little distance. In the last shelf you passed, you hid yourself between the boxes. You stilled just a second before you heard him enter the aisle.

Clamping a hand over your mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut as his footsteps grew louder with each passing second. Your other hand began to ache from gripping the taser between your fingers.

“Run all you like. It won’t change how this all ends,” Will seethed, his voice becoming closer to you. A raggedness filled his words, and you hoped that meant the plan was working.

Still, Peter’s name repeated over and over in your mind, a silent prayer for him to come help. But you could hear more guards approaching, each one feeling like an extra shovel digging your graves.

The guards seemed to be coming to find the commotion, but from the sounds, it seemed like Peter was holding them off. You could only imagine the exhaustion and pain riddling his body as he never stopped fighting.

And you hoped he wouldn’t stop as a shaking, powerful hand wrapped itself around your arm and yanked you from the shelf. No sound could escape your mouth — every inch of it went dry in the face of Will’s bloodshot eyes.

One hand reached to claw at his grip while the other brought the taser up to his neck. But he knocked it away before sending you flying from the aisles into the open space. You heard a growl rip from his throat before it disappeared under the ringing in your ears, a breathless groan dribbling from your agape lips, as you fell against the concrete.

In between slow blinking and painful winces, you caught sight of Peter coming down and fighting against Will. Even with the sweat starting to bead along your skin, the extra heat and lights weren’t enough yet to weaken him. You saw how fast his punches were, how slow Peter was to dodge them.

Your arms trembled as you pushed yourself onto one elbow. Gritting your teeth, you ignored the ache throbbing behind your eyes. You began to stand up again only for a blow to knock you back down and sliding across the floor.

“God, I’ve just had fucking enough of you. Stay down for once, sweetheart. Okay?”

Past watery vision, you raised your head to see a bloody Ellis pointing a gun down at you. You held your breath, not daring to move as nausea and fear turned to sludge in your stomach. His knuckles look torn and raw, his suit ripped along his shoulders and arms. One hand of his ran through his hair, leaving a smear of blood along his hairline.

Just as you were to silently call for Peter again or to close your eyes and wait for this all to be over, a strangled groan echoed throughout the warehouse. A second later, Peter’s ragged body flew from the shelves and hit the ground, sliding until he slammed into the building’s wall. A cry escaped your mouth at seeing his limp form, and you only breathed again once you saw him beneath the debris and dust. Blood dribbled from his shoulder. More rips spread along his suit. But weakly, slowly, you could see his chest continue to rise and fall.

Before you could try to crawl over to him, Will emerged from the aisles — his smile victorious even as his muscles shook. From where you lay, you couldn’t see any more guards. Peter must have gotten them all. Now you just needed a little more time.

“His current state is going to make it harder to get answers out of him, William,” Ellis said. He stretched his neck side to side as he continued to train his gun directly at your heart.

Will let out a breathy laugh as he made his way closer. “I was just having some fun testing out my powers.” He flexed his hands in front of him, his heartbeat visible in the raised veins just beneath his skin. “Besides, I’m sure there are ways to get him to talk…”

His gaze rose to connect with yours.

He dropped the end of his blade to the ground, letting it drag against the concrete with each step. The slicing sound may as well have been the blade itself running along your throat.

You began to shuffle backward, needing to get as far away from him and his torture plan as possible. Your teeth dug so far into your cheek that you began to taste blood. Fresh tears pooled along your eyes as you called out, “When were you going to tell him, Ellis?”

Still several feet away, Will paused for a moment, the blade hanging looser from his grasp. His eyes flicked to his father’s.

Ellis' shout echoed across the building, making you flinch. “What are you doing? Grab her. We need to leave.”

You didn’t let either of them think before blurting out, “When were you going to tell your son that his body’s rejecting the DNA? That they’re going to kill him?”

Ellis nearly growled out his next words as he stalked closer. “Shut. Up. You don’t know anything, you worthless girl.”

You scrambled back farther, your hands searching for anything along the ground. Your fingers grasped a broken shard of glass, bringing it in front of your body. It looked so miniscule, so useless, trembling before him.

“Is that true?”

Will’s words broke through, and for a brief moment, you recognized him again — he was the man you danced with. Only this time, he looked empty.

The question made Ellis stop this time, his eyes squeezing shut for a second.

“Father?”

You saw how Will’s skin looked red and blotchy, how his breathing became harder with each passing second. He knew something was wrong.

“Tell him, Ellis. Tell him why he’s becoming weaker by the minute.” You tried to keep your voice steady, and though it wavered and scratched, it still struck the tense thread holding them together.

For too long, no one spoke. You fought to not look away from Ellis’ stare that pierced through you. Every breath, every tiny move he made, you watched him from behind the broken glass.

Will pleaded, shouting,“Dad!”

Finally, Ellis broke from the trance and dropped the gun just slightly, turning toward Will. You took the brief moment to glance to Peter. In… out. In… out. He was here. He was okay. He would be okay.

You turned back when Ellis let out a resigned sigh, refusing to fully meet his son’s gaze. “We are working on a cure… a treatment to stabilize your body’s reactions. There was no use in worrying you before we found it.”

“Except that tiring his body worsens it — it kills him faster,” you gritted past split lips, despite flinching when Ellis aimed the gun at you again.

“Shut the hell up!” he yelled, gripping the gun’s handle until his knuckles turned white. You raised your chin higher.

“Is she right?” Will asked.

“I…” Ellis began, groaning and dropping the gun to his side. He reached his other hand toward Will, turning toward him completely. “It’s…” And for once, you heard Ellis Beaumont have nothing to say — no lies to spew. Still, he approached Will, trying to embrace him.

But Will backed away, his tripping over one another. “You did this to me,” he whispered, almost in awe. Then, his voice rose with each word until he was shouting. “You used me as some lap dog and knew that it was destroying me from the inside out?”

Ellis approached again. “Son–”

“No! Get the hell off me,” Will screamed, pressing his hands into his father’s chest and shoving with all his strength.

Ellis stumbled, and you relished in the way his mouth opened and shut without saying anything.

“No. Don’t say another goddamn thing. No more telling me what to do like I’m a child,” he paused, his jaw clenching. His irises seemed to glow a sickly green, his voice becoming deep and alien. “Like I’m just some tool to get you your money.”

What lit the awaiting wick, though, was Ellis — in all his confidence and cowardice for his own safety — raised his gun at his son. You swore you saw the instant Will lost all semblance of control.

His body surged forward, tackling his father to the ground. Ellis yelled out, but it cut short when he hit the concrete. Any noise he made disappeared under the sound of Will’s fist hitting his dad. An animalistic growl rang out, and for a moment, you sat entranced, watching the pain pass across both of their faces as they battled.

You stared at the tears flying from Will’s eyes until your arm could no longer hold up the shard of glass. Its sharp edges pressed into your skin, but as they continued fighting, you dropped it to crawl toward Peter’s body.

Your eyes stayed on the two men while you passed over debris and the occasional webbed-up guard. You pushed away the wreckage despite the aching fire licking across every part of your body. Glimpses of red peaked through as you uncovered Peter. Immediately, you felt his chest for a pulse, for his ragged-but-stable breaths. A gasp escaped your mouth as you felt it dimly beating. You then moved to put pressure on the bullet wound on his side.

The pained groan he let out choked your heart. On the tip of your tongue, his name stood begging to leap off the edge and surround his body until he was okay again.

Instead, with darting eyes and trembling lips, you whispered, “Spidey.”

When he didn’t respond, you took hold of his arms and shook him slightly. Tears dripped down your cheeks, your voice becoming more desperate. “C’mon. We have to go. You have to get out of here.” You pushed his exposed hair back under his mask again. He barely stirred.

“Please,” you cried out, pulling on him, prepared to try and drag him out of there. “You can’t ditch me, asshole. I’m not doing this alone.”

Beneath the yelling of Ellis’ pleading and Will’s incessant punches, you heard Peter murmur something. You didn’t dare breathe, only whispering for him to repeat.

“You’re… an… asshole,” Peter grumbled, his face twisting as he opened his eyes. His head lolled to the side, a dry swallow passing down his throat. If he wasn’t in so much pain, you might’ve thought about hitting him for that. Instead, a splitting smile overtook your face.

But you didn’t have time to stop when Peter’s hands tensed around you. He moved just slightly to look toward the Beaumonts, prompting you to whip your head in their direction again.

You looked just in time to see Will wavering above Ellis, his eyes blinking slower and slower. A second later, he slumped forward and off of Ellis’ body onto the ground. Will appeared to be breathing still, but he was weak.

Any momentary relief you felt vanished as Ellis sat up, that wild look back on his face. Your hold on Peter tightened, your body thrown back into desperate fear. Ellis reached a few feet out to grab the blade Will had before training his eyes on you — like a predator locked onto its prey.

“You little-”

Grabbing Peter’s nearly limp arm, you repeatedly pressed down on his web shooter’s trigger before Ellis could finish his sentence. Webs flew out and encompassed the man, wrapping him and sticking him to the floor.

“Thank you,” Peter muttered. “He was giving me a headache.”

You were sure it was the multiple head injuries doing that, but you appreciated the humor while your heart rate returned to normal.

“C’mon. We’re leaving,” you urged him. With all of your strength, you did your best to support Peter’s weight as he slowly stood and staggered onto you. You could hear the groans he continued to bite back.

You held onto him tight, keeping him balanced. “Okay, do you have your phone on you?”

“Yeah…”

You waited for him to fish it out from a slim pocket. Using your free hand, you took several pictures of the Beaamonts lying there and the ruined warehouse. Your investigative heart wanted to take a hundred images from every angle, but your rational mind told you to leave. It took all your effort to move on. Trying to ignore the dizziness in the corners of your vision, you wrapped an arm around Peter’s side and walked to the back of the warehouse.

You both passed through the back door, out over the threshold of that place — finally out into the night for good. He’d be okay.

Along the warehouse’s high windows, flashes of police lights reflected down onto Peter’s face. He gritted his teeth and raised his arm to the skyline, staring into your eyes. “Ready, sunshine?”

You let yourself be pulled in closer to his side, blinking away the stinging tears.

And from this angle, with cascading cherry and violet lights raining down onto Peter’s profile, you found that you didn’t mind red and blue so much anymore.

Nodding, you slowly drew your eyes to his. “Ready.”

—

Your words spilled through gritted teeth, your jaw clenched tight. “I hate you so much, Peter.”

Your palms were sweaty as you forced yourself to stay focused despite that rage building in your chest. It continued up your body, crawling along your throat.

“Really? After all I’ve done for you?” Peter asked, his tone incredulous. You could feel the waves of heat rolling off of him.

Your expression sinking into a frown, you muttered, “It’s only fitting, considering that you lie and hide secrets.”

“Oh come on…” He scoffed, holding up a hand. “That’s low. And if you think about it, it was really only one secret!”

“That you lied about multiple times!”

He sat back next to you against the couch cushions, the weight of him drawing you closer. “You’re just a sore loser, and you’re angry that I whooped your ass in Mario Kart. Again,” he said, and you finally turned your gaze from the screen to look at him.

Light streamed in through his apartment’s window, the afternoon sun dancing across his face. His eyes turned to a soft caramel under its attention. His hair was undone, feathering along his forehead. Slowly, he grew closer, raising one eyebrow as if daring you to tell him he’s wrong.

Crossing your arms, determined not to be affected by his stare, you told him, “I literally beat you in the last game.”

He rolled his eyes. “Cause you cheated!”

“Look who’s the sore loser now,” you laughed out, your mouth turning into a gentle smile.

The two of you were face to face on the couch, breaths mixing together. A moment of silence passed, Peter’s softening eyes roaming across you. His thumb reached over to brush along the outside of your thigh. “You’re lucky you’re adorable.”

You didn’t try to fight your wide grin or the heat rising to your cheeks. In a whisper, you asked, “You think I’m adorable?”

His only answer was a slight huff as he leaned forward, kissing you. It only lasted a moment, your lips chasing his when he pulled away. “I’m gonna grab a drink, don’t sabotage my controller while I’m gone,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want anything?”

“I’ll take whatever’s on tap,” you said, laughing when he rolled his eyes.

Slowly, he rose from the couch, taking heavy breaths as he winced. His healing injuries — mental and physical — were better, but they weren’t gone altogether. Neither were yours.

They probably wouldn’t be for a while. Though, after waking up panicked and breathless from repeated nightmares, it helped having someone there to bring you back down. It helped having someone take care of yourself when that seemed impossible. And it helped knowing you weren’t alone in this.

You watched him make his way to the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge. In these past days since the warehouse incident, it sometimes scared you how easy this was. Staying at his apartment together, helping one another recover. Your things sat scattered around his place, like they belonged. You wondered when he was going to say something, to ask you to go back home and tend to your wounds alone. When you both healed, would it all go back to how it was?

When a notification sound came from Peter’s phone, your eyes drew down to it for a second. Not knowing whether it was urgent Spider-Man business — not that he should’ve been doing it given his state — you called out, “Your phone dinged!”

Head still in the fridge, his words muffled, Peter called back, “Can you check it for me?”

You paused for a moment, letting a feeling of warmth settle in your chest before grabbing his phone. Just from the notification preview, you could tell what it was.

“Add another tally to your offers to interview for a job,” you told him, shaking your head — a smile evident in your voice. “This one’s for a junior photographer position.”

“What does that bring us up to now?” he asked, closing the refrigerator. He brought a glass of water and what you assumed was Dr. Pepper that’d gone flat.

“I think we’re tied at three each — though they’re just asking us to apply and interview.” You let out a sigh, trying not to get your hopes up. “It’s no guarantee of a job. They’re just interested in our story.”

Peter pointed a finger at you from around the glass. “Our story that kicks ass and put the corrupt city manager and his son away. That’s a piece that belongs on something bigger than The Daily Bugle.”

“You really think so?”

You looked up at him, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Sunshine, the greatest compliment Jameson could spit out was that it’s a ‘mighty fine’ story — before obviously yelling at us for not getting more pictures of Spider-Man during it… and that our injuries were no excuse, of course,” he told you with a wry sarcasm as he set the glasses down on the coffee table. Sitting next to you, his expression softened. His hand wrapped around yours. “But now you have the chance at something bigger.”

You grinned back at him. “But how could I ever pass up a job with… how’d he say it? ‘Minimal benefits and guaranteed maximum overtime’?”

Peter’s laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating a comforting rhythm against you. Next to you, your phone buzzed this time. Picking it up, you told him, “Oh, another one! It’s 4 to 3 now — I’m in the lead.”

His grin made yours even wider, and you were unable to fight it as his hands cupped your jaw, his fingers careful to avoid the bruises along your cheekbone. “You see? You’ve got the whole world in the palm of your hand.” His eyes pulled you in, begging you to fall into him completely as he pressed his lips to yours once again.

You could’ve stayed there forever, sitting on that ripped couch in Peter’s apartment that you swore to never return to. Your fingers twisted in the ends of his hair pulling him even closer. The rest of the world melted away for at least a little while, leaving just the two of you in this bubble. When you eventually pulled away, your foreheads rested against one another, your nose nudging against his.

“Oh!” you said, leaning back, “I almost forgot. I picked up a frame while out grocery shopping — I couldn’t help myself.” You stood up, grabbing a bag from the dining table and pulling out a cheap picture frame. The story you’d already cut out from the newspaper felt smooth between your fingers as you carefully placed it in the frame.

You kept it close to your body while looking around for a good spot to hang it up, not that the walls had much — or anything — really on them. Deciding on a nice place between the door and living room, you asked, “Want to do the honors?”

Fishing out a nail from his tool drawer, which was really just a kitchen drawer full of scattered household items, you held it out to Peter along with the frame. It took some willpower to not gasp as he merely pushed the nail into the wall without a hammer and hung up the frame.

Straightening it just right, he stepped back and wrapped his arm around your back. You took it in, the first real decoration in his apartment — the story that brought the two of you together framed against the pale walls. Your names shone clearly at the top, next to the large letters spelling out, “Fundraiser or Fraud? The Beaumont Empire Falls.”

Leaning into him, your palm rubbing circles on his lower back, you asked, “Do you like it?”

His voice came out soft, the words curling around the ends of your body. “It’s perfect.”

It wasn’t, not with the ill-fitting frame or the story that likely needed further digging and refining. But right now, with Peter, it was perfect. You let your mind run through everything you two had gone through together, how you’d ended up here.

After a minute of thinking, though, something kept drawing your attention. Pursing your lips, you turned back to him. “Hey Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“I just have a quick question. When we were trying to get into the fundraiser, you said you ‘knew a guy.’ Did you just mean yourse-”

“Myself? Yeah. I’m the guy,” he told you, nodding repeatedly. Nonchalantly.

You scoffed, slightly laughing. You really were insane to have gone in on this project with him. “And then you made fake IDs and gave me some fake wedding ring so we could sneak in…” you said in disbelief.

Turning to grab his drink from the table, he furrowed his eyebrows. “The ring you borrowed? ‘S not fake — do you still have that, by the way?” he asked, taking a sip. “Need to return that.”

You took a beat staring at him wordlessly. Your mind crossed several things to say that you decided to hold back. “Peter, what do you mean it’s not fake? That giant rock on my finger was real?”

“Yeah, I borrowed it as a favor from a jewelry store. I saved the place from robbers breaking in.” He shrugged, the flannel his wore swaying around his body.

This relationship was going to take years off of you…

Your fingers pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’m going to kill you,” you half-heartedly murmured. Your eyes raised to meet his, your finger pointing at him. “You know, you’re so careless about all this. I fucking knew you were Spider-Man for so long.”

“Oh, bullshit,” he laughed out, walking closer to you. “Now you didn’t. And as long as we’re being honest, I was going to give you the Daily Bugle job offer at the end of the internship the whole time. So really… you didn’t have to do any of this.” His face morphed into a teasing cockiness that sparked a fire in your chest.

The two of you stared at one another, eyes alight but mouths fighting back smiles. All at once, a calm washed over you. “Are we done bickering?”

Peter rested his hands on your hips. He nodded softly, sweetly, as if nothing but you filled his mind. “Yeah, we’re done.”

You leaned forward, kissing him once before whispering against his lips, “Great, now grab the controller — ‘m gonna kick your ass in Mario Kart again.”

@dil3mma @hollandweather @reidslovely @a-lumos-in-the-nox @keepingitlokiii @thedevax @sincericida @agent-tempest @olivezgalore @qwintlimon7 @eddieslooneymoonie @aheadfullofsteverogers @bitchy-bi-trash

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #the amazing spider man #spider man #spider-man #tasm andrew garfield #andrew garfield #peter parker x fem!reader #spider man x reader #spider-man x reader

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rosewould · 1 year

Text

cynics; jns

part viii (final)

masterlist

words; 32k (don't even say anything)

genre; angst, smut, and fluff (the gang's all here)

warnings; descriptions of gore, mc cuts her finger on glass, mentions of revenge porn, toxic relationship(s), manipulation, cunnilingus, fingering, piv, looong dick, multiple orgasms (2), making love, l bomb, unprotected sex, choking, body worship

preface; the song for this lengthy part (especially near the middle-ish end) is The Loneliest Time by Carly Rae Jepson. I think that song perfectly encapsulates the bittersweet feeling a lot of this final chapter has. Since this chapter is unseemly in its length, I separated this with color-coded dividers so you can take a break and come back. I would’ve just separated this, in all honesty, it shouldn’t have been the last chapter yet now that I laid it out, but it’s been dragged out for too long.

So here it is! Here Cynics was and what a ride it has been. I really hope you guys enjoyed this fic and its ending, despite me not setting up the characters and plot points up super well. Thank you for all the amazing love for this fic, I’m not sure I could’ve finished it without the incredibly sweet asks and engaging conversations. Thank you a million times~

The air is frigid as you look over the posts from user purkyung. Just as large as you before joining the Dreamies. For a moment you viewed her as a possible rival. Not because you were jealous of her or felt threatened by her, but because you were too similar to ignore. No one said anything, but you could tell people were thinking it.

Chaekyung looked like the perfect cast for the love interest in a coming-of-age story. One written by a man to entertain like-minded men. She’s pretty in a believable way. You can vividly picture her in a domestic setting.

She played comfort games and had a substantial female audience, again, similar to yours. She didn’t ask for it or even market herself toward them, but she had a decent amount of keen male eyes on her. Enough to make her pull her shirt higher and angle her camera to cut off before her belly button.

Chaekyung, like many others, was disgusted by the breaking news. She stated as much publicly because she didn’t want to see women once again be disregarded for their well-being on such a large scale. And her daring to say as much earned her a full scale attack.

There were so many people speaking out against whoever was responsible. They had hashtags trending on multiple platforms to announce their distaste for what happened. Of course, there were people suggesting the backlash was overblown and loudly opposing, but the message was clear. People were not happy and they didn’t want this to happen again. And yet Chaekyung was still successfully torn to shreds.

People spammed unflattering pictures of her under her tweets, flooded her DMs, and made countless tweets of their own trashing her and condemning anyone that supported her. If you defended her you better hope your account was private. It was the type of relentless attack that you could only gawk at in horror as she posts screenshots and begs for someone to step in. For one reason or another, no one did. They stepped back and hoped she had loving people around her offline.

Even with a temporary roommate and boyfriend, your house is still empty most of the time. Taeyong is busy dealing with the aftermath of the group chat leak. The people involved are still up in the air and some people have even started to accuse you. It’s a minuscule minority, but they cite your silence on the situation as suspicious. You and Johnny both have yet to say anything. In a painfully familiar instance, a couple of twitter users accuse you of protecting YangYang. But things are going well for you right now.

So you exit twitter.

Johnny, on the other hand, slips out early in the morning and comes back when you’re already asleep. The only time you see him is when you catch glimpses of him leaving. It can’t be comfortable on your couch and he couldn’t be sleeping that much with such an insane schedule. You don’t go to sleep early. He must be coming back around 2 am.

While you’re deep in thought, someone walks through the door. “Hey.” Taeyong ruffles your hair as he walks past you. “Productive day?” He asks, peering back for a moment before reaching for the half empty coffee pot.

With a stupid smile plastered on your face, you shrug. “Um… not really. I don’t stream today so I just sat around.”

Taeyong pours himself a glass before taking a sip. “Do you remember what we talked about?”

You gasp, you had completely forgotten. Looking down, you clench the mug of coffee you’d been nursing. Maybe it was for the best you didn’t remember. You nip at the dead skin on your lip. “Well, I remember now.”

“You should consider it.” Taeyong sets a hand on your shoulder. “It’ll be good for you.”

“I don’t know, Tae. Everything is already going great…”

“I know you saw those tweets, right?”

Your hand loosens on the mug as you swallow. “What, the ones accusing me? It’s insubstantial.” You say in a strange attempt to appeal to him, “And there are only three or so tweets.”

“I’m sure you noticed the most popular one has five thousand likes. Sure, it’s not like it’s ten thousand or a hundred thousand, but that could change.”

It was easy to ignore the amount of likes, you just closed twitter and forcibly forgot about it. Now he was making it impossible to ignore. The concern over this situation started to merge with your concern over Naeun. That’s neglecting to factor in Johnny living with you. You feel trapped.

“If I do a little digging, I’m sure I can find some girls included in the group chat. Getting those girls to come out against YangYang and forming a new group with them would be huge for you.” He places his mug on the table, standing close enough that you can feel heat radiating off his body.

“I already have a group, though. Making another group when I just got into one seems a bit strange.” You do it again, responding to him to try and appease him. In his presence, you start to doubt your thought process tenfold.

“Yes, but are you really a Dreamie? Do you really want to be seen as a guest star for the rest of your career? Or worse…” Taeyong pauses to slip his phone out of his pocket. His screen is presented to you, showing an equally popular tweet.

‘Does anyone else feel like ___ is leeching off of the boys’ fame? She left before anything even happened in Taeyong’s group. Maybe she thought they weren’t popular enough for her.’

You take the phone into your grasp. The replies and quote tweets were insane, the combined amount nearly outnumbering the likes. Looking through them was like getting whiplash. Some people were defending you, citing your appearance on that podcast and the fact that Mark backs your story to explain things. Others confirm they’ve had this suspicion as well. The most baffling aspect was that each side was equally popular. There was no domineering opinion. Even the arguments were neck in neck with likes.

You pass the phone back to him with a shaky exhale. “I’ll think about it.”

Taeyong presents you with a tight smile. “You should do that.”

“We can get it under control.” Jeno states sternly. You wave him off. “No, this is my mess. I’ll handle it.”

“It’s our fans causing a ruckus, we’re partly responsible.” Chenle adds nervously.

“Let’s be honest it’s mostly Donghyuck’s crazy ass fans.” Jaemin pipes up and incites chaos.

“How is this my fault?”

“No one said it was your fault, Hyuck.” Mark tries but all of the boys shout over each other. It’s impossible to form a rational thought. Mark’s shouting for them to be quiet isn’t making it any better. You could just leave, it’s a possibility that was always on the table, just taunting you. Sure, you were skilled, but that doesn’t mean you should be a popular streamer. This career path was far-fetched to begin with. You sit stiffly on Mark’s recliner, watching as the tight-knit group of boys quarrel over your situation.

Unable to handle the noise overwhelming your thoughts, you stand from the chair. You mumble an apology as you head for the front door. Mark calls after you before following you out of his house.

“What’s wrong?” Mark is immediately attentive. The worry tugging at his brows makes your heart ache. Mark was the only constant throughout this entire debacle. Always checking in on you, being the sweetest person on Earth, and most importantly, sticking up for you.

“God, Mark. I’m so sorry for snapping at you after the podcast.” You shake your head.

“You were right, though. I should’ve spoken up sooner.”

“But if we switched places, I probably would’ve done that same thing. It was scary!” Your laugh contrasts the tears springing to your eyes. “You’re too nice to me. On top of everything, you invite me into the Dreamies and look at what I did.” You gesture to the door, where the bickering started to pick back up.

“This always happens at some point. It’s normal.” Mark chuckles before staring somberly at your wet eyes.

“It sucks that you feel like a burden for trying to heal.” Your eyes flicker toward him and he holds your gaze.

His words linger in your mind long after he says them. The two of you stare quietly at the sunset, feeling the temperature shift ever so slightly cooler. “Taeyong told me about the idea he has for you.” You nod, waiting for him to shoot it down.

“I think it’s a good idea.”

Your eyes slowly move from the darkening sky to Mark’s smile. “Really?”

“It’s not his group, so he won’t invite Johnny or any other shitty people. I like Taeyong but he really has a knack for finding some terrible people.” You both laugh. “Except for you of course.” He glances at you with his eyebrows raised. “I’m happy for the two of you.”

“Thank you.”

This conversation awakens the same strange emotion you have had around Jisoo and Jungwoo lately. Jungwoo has taken your sexual breakup well, a little too well. They haven’t ripped you a new one for letting Johnny crash on your couch. They’ve also, though tentatively, supported your relationship with Taeyong. As your gaze lowers from the sunset, you think back on how they get when you mention Taeyong. For some strange reason, that’s the aspect they seem most openly uneasy about.

That doesn’t make you feel the overwhelming support any less. Mark is just a sweetheart to a sickening degree but that strange emotion still remains. Even Mark had his moments of trying to warn you about the people in your life. Now everyone is strangely quiet. There are not many people telling you how to navigate these choices you have to make.

“Are you happy now?”

With a sharp inhale Johnny is awake again. To his dismay, he is again greeted by your scent and likeness as soon as he wakes up. Your jacket is draped over the back of the couch, drenched in your favorite perfume. Why he turns to look at the picture of you, he never understands. He swallows thickly, trying to quell the sickening feeling waking up under your roof gives him as he searches haphazardly for his phone.

The time reads 4 am. He locks his phone and tosses it on the table. He barely sleeps anymore. How could he when those nightmares were back with a vengeance? Every time he blinks he sees your shattered skull, so he keeps his eyes open until the sharp stinging pricks them closed. He needs to get out of here.

Walking aimlessly into the crisp early morning air helps him breathe freer. It also helps quell some of the nausea from his hangover. With a deep inhale, he fills his lungs with clean air. There’s a lounge eight minutes away that opens earlier than the other bars and lounges in the area. When it does, he’ll be able to silence the voice in his brain making him feel guilty.

But then he’s back under your roof.

First you use fond memories to make yourself feel better. Then you let her soothe you that night. Now you’re living on her couch.

“It’s shameful.” He finishes the guilt trip aloud before his head can.

“What’s shameful?”

For the first time since he’d woken up, Johnny felt fully alert as he heard Taeyong’s voice. He glances over at him as he peacefully drinks coffee. He unlocks his phone again to check the time. 6 am.

Knowing he wasn’t going to answer, Taeyong just asks another question. “Been talking to her much?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Johnny grunts. “You were there. She made it clear that she didn’t want to be friends anymore.” It seemed like he was rubbing salt in the wound.

“I see.” Taeyong takes a long slurp of his coffee before setting it carefully onto the polished wood. “I’m dissolving the group.”

So all that “conversation” was just his clumsy way of smoothing the path to his news. Johnny figured as much, Nayeon is gone and Mark sure as hell isn’t coming back. Like Taeyong said, he could very easily persuade you to come back one way or another, but three wasn’t enough. All that was left of the group he spent his formative years in were tainted memories and burned bridges. Which brings Johnny to the man sitting at your dining room table. It’s been a very long time since Johnny could say he liked the guy.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you often, at least until I’m back on my feet.”

“And when is that exactly?” Taeyong turns to face the taller man from his seat, squinting as he awaits his answer. Johnny frowns at his unsuspected jab. That’s one thing Johnny didn’t take into account, if Taeyong liked him.

“I’m trying my best.”

“Well don’t take this the wrong way, but could you try a little harder? I’m her boyfriend now so forgive me if I’m a little put off by you being around her. Besides, you probably feel out of place around us. Considering I’m “just as much of a little bitch as she is”.”

Overwhelming embarrassment and shame twist Johnny’s features. “I said a lot of things I didn’t really mean.”

“Do you really think matters, whether you meant it or not? You still hurt her.”

“Taeyong please,” Johnny starts getting pissed off from his increasingly apparent hypocrisy. “let’s be real for a second. You’ve been stringing her along until she was useful to you.”

“Do you think that makes us comparable?” Taeyong laughs, not refuting his accusation. “You wanna be real? Let’s be real. You treated her like utter garbage for years and trashed her self-esteem probably for good.” Johnny visibly winces at that bitter truth. The only time you really get dressed up are very rare instances, and even then it’s relatively tame. You always used to dress up in middle and high school. You didn’t even let your bullies pressure you out of it. But Johnny did the trick.

“Now you’re sleeping on her couch while you barely even speak to the woman. No ‘hello’ or ‘thank you’, just leaving and coming back to sleep like it’s a hotel. You should be waiting on her hand and foot and you haven’t even picked up a broom.”

“I get it, I know! I think about it every night before I go to sleep.” Johnny vents, his breathing rapid before he lets out an exasperated sigh.

“If you get it then read the room. I can tell you have the urge to act on some selfish sense of a savior complex suddenly, just save it.” Though Taeyong’s expression is stern, it’s nowhere close to that day he kicked Lucas, Doyoung, and YangYang out. There’s no real passion behind his words. However, there’s a ton of truth, whether Johnny likes it or not.

“You owe it to her to leave her be.”

The two men stare each other down. Johnny knows there was so much left unsaid, such as his dubious motives. He has expressed on multiple occasions that he doesn’t like being around you. He basically called you a nuisance not long before he dumped Nayeon in favor of you. But was it Johnny’s place?

Your bedroom door creeks open slowly before you appear behind it, scrubbing at your eyes. “What’s going on? It’s six in the morning.” Your shirt lifts as you stretch, showing your upper thighs. Johnny snaps his head away, eyes frantically moving around the room but looking at nothing.

“Don’t worry about it. Go back to bed.” Taeyong murmurs, turning his head slightly. You stay rooted in your spot, grogginess clearing up as you chew on your lip.

“Johnny?”

He glances at Taeyong who shoots him one last stern look. “I was just leaving and ran into him. We were having a conversation, that’s all.” Johnny assures you.

“Leaving?” You look between both men confusedly. “You’re okay with going home?”

“Yeah, thanks for letting me stay here. You really didn’t have to do that.” He slowly pans his gaze on you, only holding it for a second before looking at the floor. “Goodbye.” This time it was truly final. There’s nothing tying them to each other anymore. He’d probably live out in his car for as long as he can take it. After a while, would he accept defeat and go crawling back to his parent’s house? The thought makes him involuntarily grimace.

“Don’t leave.” It’s more of a command than a request. You make your way toward him, eyes trained on him even as Taeyong tells you to let him go. “He wants to leave.” When you reach him, you crane your head high as you really study his face.

“How many years has it been since we’ve known each other? You really think I don’t know when you’re lying?” The tightness of your jaw and apprehension hanging off every word wipe any playfulness that could be interpreted away. Every time the two of you speak there’s this undeniable weight that never goes away. Johnny’s not even sure when it got there.

“I’m fine. I’m a grown man.”

“I saw you after you got home and fell asleep. I could smell the alcohol, Johnny.” His previous statement seemed to annoy you somehow. “You only got three hours of sleep. And you’re starting to look like a lumberjack- just come back and lay down for a few more hours.”

“I have overstayed my welcome considerably. I should’ve left the day Jaehyun did.” Johnny states firmly. This is the first time in a long time the two of them were able to have a mostly regular conversation. Looking at you with your eyebrows drawn together atop your wide eyes swimming in worry, he feared he might do something stupid.

“Says who?”

“Says me. It was selfish of me to stay here.” He turns to leave but stops when he feels your hands around his forearm. Your stare falters when he looks back at you.

“If you don’t want to be selfish… you could help me out. I’m gonna get busier in the coming months and could use some help around the house.”

Your fingertips are hot against his skin. He felt they might actually singe him. But Johnny didn’t pull away. “You don’t have any friends that could help?”

“Not any that owe me.” You cock an eyebrow up. Johnny takes a second to appreciate the atmosphere that actually started to feel lighter.

“Okay, fine. But when I’m actually able to leave, I’ll do so.” A small smile flickers onto his face, fizzling out soon after.

“We’ve got a deal then.” You pull your hands away and Johnny instantly feels your pacifying effect on him wear off. “Come sleep in my bed.”

Johnny’s face goes red hot in a matter of seconds, eyes blowing wide as he stammers. “Don’t be stupid, I’m sleeping on the couch. You’ll need the rest if you’re helping me.” You narrow your eyes at him before you seemingly catch yourself after registering his troubled expression. “S-sorry I shouldn’t have called you stupid.” You lower your head, actions mirroring the night you told him he was as bad as Hyuna and Hyojong.

“Please don’t be sorry-”

The two of you flinch at the sound of glass shattering against the bowl of your sink. “Shit, sorry.” Taeyong lifts his head to look blankly at you and Johnny. “Are the two of you done?”

You look just as bewildered as he does in that moment, but you’re looking at Taeyong apologetically. “We are.” You reply, strangely eager.

Letting Johnny sleep in your bed was supposed to help him sleep better, but it wasn’t helping one bit. He was now completely surrounded by your scent. Was he hallucinating or was the mattress still warm from when you were here? He shouldn’t even be thinking about that. It’s hard to keep his thoughts clear in this situation.

Eventually, it gets the best of him. He promised he’d stop using memories of you soothing him or the thought of your smile to placate his anxiety, but that was near impossible right now. Johnny takes in a trembling breath, hesitantly inhaling your scent until it’s swirling in his lungs, and prepares for another nightmare.

Except, it isn’t a nightmare. He’s sitting in bed with you. It’s morning time, the sun blankets the room in a heavenly glow. You have only a t-shirt on like you did moments ago, only it’s fully white now. You smile at him and he finds himself smiling back. You continue to smile as you place both hands on either side of his head and angle his head down. Your legs are crossed and he can see your plain white underwear. His breath hitches but he doesn’t move a muscle. One of your hands glide down your torso until it reaches your underwear, yet his head is still securely held in place. He watches breathlessly as your fingers stimulate your clit through the cloth. His mouth is dry, incredibly uncomfortably dry.

“Johnny!” You gasp. He feels the soft meat of your thighs before he even registers his hands are there. He kneads the flesh, his crotch thrumming with hot pleasure. Johnny is lost in the feeling of your flawless, plush skin under his coarse fingertips when he hears you say something. “Hm?”

You giggle. “I said are you really going through with this?”

Johnny’s blood immediately runs cold upon hearing those words again. Suddenly Johnny’s head is free, giving him the opportunity to see your face again. Except, there is no face to see. Blood cascades down your throat like a haunting necklace from your crushed brain.

The sight jolts Johnny awake like it always does. His brain could never quite get past it anymore, it’s something he thanks his brain for immensely.

Maybe the couch was uncomfortable. Or you just stayed up the entire morning overthinking your decision. Especially with how standoffish Taeyong was before he left. You carefully pick the large pieces of glass from the sink and drop them in your garbage can. You huff, setting your hands on your hips as you take in all of the smaller pieces. Should you vacuum them? Resorting to google, you learn glass can ruin your garbage disposal.

“Great.” You mutter before groaning at the mess that still remained.

As advised, you pick out any pieces big enough to grab with tongs. By the time you were finished, your fingers were cramping from holding the damn things, so you pick up any left on the surface with your fingers. “Stupid fucking-”

You let out a drawn out hiss as you snatch your hand away from the sink. One of the shattered pieces sported an edge so thin it sliced through your finger like butter. You close your hand around your index finger, trying to dull the deep throb that started. As you exhale you feel contempt bubbling up inside you. As it surfaces it shifts to a pitiful, bitter feeling of defeat. You collapse onto the dining room chair as hot tears gush down your face. You bite your lip to stifle any sobs. With Johnny and Taeyong both here constantly, you felt so critical of everything you did.

You were tired, all you wanted to do was just… be. Now you have a whole list of shit to worry about. You have no one to blame but yourself for feeling trapped. All because of the younger version of you that gets weak seeing Johnny suffer. Weak, soft, pathetic.

The sound of your door opening makes you shoot up from the chair, wiping your tears away. You sniffle and reach for another mug as if that’s what you were doing this whole time. You can see him in your peripheral, his towering height only serving to make him stand out more.

“Good morn-”

“Can you help me out with this glass?” You refrain from sniffling again. If you can read him like a book from subtle facial expressions, there’s no way he couldn’t pick up that you were crying.

“Sure.” He shuffles over, examining the mess Taeyong left. He opens his mouth to reem the guy for it but decides against it.

“Is there a lot in the garbage disposal?”

“No… I uh, I got most of it.”

“Hm,” Johnny starts clearing the basin with his hands. He notices your bloody finger but he also notices that you’re trying to hide it. And yes, he does notice you side-eyeing him after he looked at your finger, so he pretends he didn’t see a thing.

You still had nothing but that goddamn shirt on. No amount of bluffing could ever fool his body into not being attracted to you. Even when he was being an asshole to you. But he hadn’t been around you enough recently to have to deal with it, so perhaps he was a little rusty at suppressing it. He desperately needed to get it under control because underneath the titillation was a seedy and foreboding feeling that frankly horrified him. Every pang of arousal felt so utterly wrong.

“I’ve been putting off laundry for too long, could you do it for me? Please try not to mix up our clothes.” The awkwardness you felt after ordering him around was instantaneous. You should just ask him to leave. What was he going to do, refuse? Sure he could rip you a new one for switching up but then he’d be gone. You’ve gotten through it before.

“Of course. If there’s anything else you need, let me know.”

You should be relieved that he didn’t seem offended, but you were relieved for an entirely different reason. He moseyed off, finishing the laundry and even folding them. He wasted no time coming back to check for another task. Didn’t even stop to play on his phone, eat, or watch tv. Little do you know it was a welcome distraction for Johnny.

Being in his own house, he could only see all the anguish he caused in every room. When he made you cry on the couch, dumped water on you while you slept in his bed, called you a pig when you looked for a snack in his fridge, and of course the wall. But his house kept him busy. Plant upkeep was very efficient at dulling his incessant thoughts. The ones asking him what the fuck he was even doing. With everything crumbling around him they only got louder.

“I don’t have anything else for you to do,” Johnny did a good job at masking his disappointment as he nodded and started away, “but that doesn’t mean you have to leave, either.” You turn around completely from your computer. You drop your gaze once you realize how desperate that sounded.

“I know, I just don’t want to intrude. You letting me sleep on your couch– and bed– was gracious enough, I don’t wanna lounge around or eat up your food.”

“It’s fine, I’m gonna be in here for a while anyway.”

Even before things started to fall apart, his life started to feel so formulaic and suffocating. Taking care of his flowers was the only thing that broke up the growing mundanity. He’d wake up, eat, sit around his house with friends, and then stream later that night. Then he’d just eat again and go to sleep. He had the privilege of being able to play games as a career, but still felt that same blanket of fog as if he were working a regular dead-end job. It made him really reflect on if he actually liked streaming and why he was still doing it.

Being closer to you without all the noise made it clear. Besides the not-so-clean thoughts, it felt comfortable to be in your presence. Even though you don’t look at him the way you used to and he can still sense how apprehensive you are around him, he still can’t help wanting to be around you. Even if it’s extremely awkward most of the time. He enjoyed all your little facial expressions when you reacted to things, how adorable you looked when you were focusing– and even though he hated seeing or knowing you were crying– he loved how puffy and glassy your eyes got afterward. He started streaming to stay around you.

But it was bittersweet, because not only couldn’t he interact with you like in school, but he didn’t deserve to. He barely deserved to be around you this much. While being around you more meant witnessing all the things that made him love you despite it all, it also made him face how he changed you head on. So he dusted, wiped down, and reorganized your entertainment center to keep himself busy. He’s setting the final item back on one of the shelves when your door opens, the photo of you and your two friends.

“What the hell Johnny…”

Johnny takes a step away from his work to slightly turn toward you, keeping his eyes on the picture. “I got a little carried away, perhaps.”

“No it’s…” You walk closer with your hands on your hips. “Huh. It’s a different color now I think.”

Johnny chuckles. “There was a thick layer of dust.”

You sigh and clench your eyes shut. “Don’t feel pressured to clean up for me. I shouldn’t have been ordering you around in the first place.”

“I shouldn’t be here in the first place.” Johnny corrects, onsetting a bitter silence he didn’t intend to. How long were the two of you going to go back and forth about this?

“But you are.” You pipe up, raising your eyebrows at him with a tight smile. “Because I asked you to be, so let’s just drop it.”

Every conversation crashed into a impenetrable wall. You couldn’t help it when a part of you found it inexcusable that you let him stay. And he couldn’t bypass his guilt. Every time you looked at each other, the first thing you remember are the bad times. If it’s not Johnny’s berating it’s the two times you went at it after you left. Neither of you knew if this was temporary or if your relationship was irreparably damaged.

Only time would tell.

For now, Johnny sneaks into your room after the sun had set, curling the object within his palm. He freezes when he feels something plush under his feet. He uses his free hand to flash his phone at the floor. There was a floor mattress with an extra comforter and one of your pillows atop it. He looks at your sleeping figure as if you’d answer the questions on his mind.

That just didn’t feel right, so he stepped over the sleeping pad to resume what he originally had in mind. When the sun shined in your eyes that morning you could feel something strange about the finger your cut was on. You had forgotten to properly treat it. After your meeting you got too busy and forgot about it since it stopped bleeding.

You raise it in front of your squinted eyes to see a bandaid had been secured around your finger. You push air out your nose with a half smile before looking down at the mattress. Your smile flickers away upon seeing it’s empty.

“I heard about your meeting.” Taeyong remarks, his phone keeping him preoccupied. “The marketing agency is very interested, they’re treating you as a high priority.”

“Really? That’s a relief.” In the grand scheme of things, it was a feather being lifted from everything that had been weighing on you, but it was still something.

“You did a good job.” Taeyong states as if it’s obvious. “That’s the thing, if you put the work in you’ll experience more fruitful endeavors.” He looks up, and you can’t tell if he does that to gauge your reaction or drive home how important his words are. Because you notice how little he looks at you since you’ve started dating. How fleeting his touch is.

“I already have one girl readying her statement against YangYang. That will definitely bring a lot of eyes so the timing has to be perfect. Maybe her statement will inspire more girls to come forward, which would make my job easier,” He lets out a short laugh. You wince at how easily and nonchalantly he speaks about this situation.

“But for now we’re really counting on you. Right when Chaeyoung makes her statement, you have to have yours ready as well. That’ll lay down the foundation before we reveal our plans for the group chat, hopefully make it seem more organic.”

Speaking out was something you forcibly put on the back burner. It was seemingly biting you in the ass more and more the longer you stay silent. There’s a mountain of guilt that comes packaged with not speaking out, but the uncertainty of it all makes it seem worth it. There’s a chance Chaeyong’s statement will be met with a poor response. Sure, people are mostly pro-Naeun and anti-group chat makers/members, but it just takes the right amount of passionate people to derail everything. Others who oppose will get scared off by the overwhelming majority, morally grey people will bandwagon. And all this for your group.

“You’re thinking too much, I can tell. You see what’s happening because you’re still not saying anything, right?”

You feel dread in your bones as he readies the post before turning his phone to you. The tweet he had shown you in your kitchen has now garnered eleven thousand likes. You take a deep breath and look away, not interested in seeing the replies. There’s no way the majority isn’t against you.

“If you come out against YangYang, not only will people stop speculating your involvement with or knowledge of the group chat, but they’ll have a more concrete reason that you left. I guarantee you tweets like this will be wiped out.” He finally pulls the phone away and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just think about it-”

“Oh my god, hi?” A trembling voice sounds beside you. You squint up at the figure ducked under the table umbrella. “I’m a huge fan of you guys! I’ve been rooting for you two since the old group first started. Can I take a picture?”

You happily pose for the picture with the fan, releasing a soft exhale through your nose when reminded of the other ship. The discourse around you was a turf war between people who ship you with Mark and people who ship you with Taeyong. That’s not even mentioning the Dreamie ships you disrupted by joining the group. With you and Mark, people conjured up tales of you guys being the closest no matter what group you were in and becoming lovers. With Taeyong it was deeper.

Apparently, the two of you suppressed your love when he got with Nayeon, and then when you left the group his pain was too much to bear. So he broke up with Nayeon and swept you off your feet. Every fantasy your fans shared was like a peek into your dreams. It felt nice to detach from reality for a moment and get lost in them.

“We can’t, Taeyong.” You force the words out. It pained you to say them.

“Why not?!” He grabbed you by your shoulders and shook you, freeing the tears that had been threatening to break free since you first laid eyes on him.

“Because of Nayeon!” You break down, falling to your knees as the sorrow fully blooms in your chest. He follows you, cradling you in his arms.

“We don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

You look up at him through your dewy lashes and he just smiles warmly.

Reading it was pure torture. Sure it was dramatic but it’s what you craved from him so that’s not what bothered you. Reading this made the nature of your actual relationship so much more apparent. And the fact that it barely changed from when you were friends. Thinking about the first time you met Nayeon made your heart wilt. He was so chivalrous with the toothpick incident but other than that it’s always been… dry.

He saw you bleed and barely had any reaction. In fact, he had no problem letting you use tape to dress your wound. All so his beautiful girlfriend could have her tiny cut properly treated. The bandaid around your index finger seems tighter all of a sudden, drawing your attention to it.

The morning after he’d done it, he didn’t address it. To be fair, you didn’t ask him why he didn’t sleep on the bed you left him if he saw it. Still, it was the most ‘Johnny’ thing he’d done in years. Now he was probably quiet about it to not push your relationship, but back then he was so embarrassed by everything. You couldn’t do anything for him and he couldn’t do anything for you without him blushing fiercely. That poor boy would blast off if he conducted any more heat. You smile to yourself, twisting your hand as you gaze fondly at the bandage.

When it came to helping the other in a dire time of need, there was no embarrassment. There was only a mutual understanding to be there for each other. As your memories get heavier, picturing him at his lowest, your smile fades. You set your hand down.

Johnny was having to do a lot of chores without you asking lately. You even started asking him to stop.

“I can wash the dishes, you don’t have to do that. You don’t even eat here.” You say, taking the plate from his hand.

He had already swept and mopped the floors, scrubbed the walls, cleaned out the fridge, and cleaned the bathroom “You haven’t given me another task and I wanted to help out.” Johnny trails off as he shrugs.

“You’ve helped plenty, the house is basically sparkling now. Thank you.” It doesn’t sound much like an expression of gratitude as you shoo him from the kitchen.

Feeling like a freeloader and wanting to preoccupy his mind, his upkeep of your home doesn’t cease. You’re starting to get warm, folded laundry on your bed every week now. You never have to wash off a dish to eat. A speck of dust couldn’t even think to form.

“Oh my god– Johnny!” You call for him and he peers out of the bathroom. “Get out of there!”

“It’s fine! I’m almost done.” He disappears back behind the door. You open your mouth to yell but close it with an extended sigh.

“I don’t want you to be my maid, I’m not even asking you to do this so why…?”

Johnny reappears, eyes not connecting with yours as he takes his gloves off. “I really don’t have anything else to do at the moment. It’s either the bar or this, and I’m sick of the headaches.”

Now that he mentions it, you haven’t been smelling alcohol on him recently. “Okay, if cleaning is really what you want to do, I concede.” You throw your arms up in mock surrender. It wasn’t totally a lie. He really didn’t have anything else to do. He was still debating on whether or not to continue streaming or look for a different job. If he really was moving back with his parents, it was definitely the latter. But it’s mostly because when he’s drunk, he says stupid things. And he misses out on coherent conversations with you. They’re getting less awkward and slightly more frequent. It’s mostly just you scolding him for going too far on the cleaning or complaining about the strong smell of bleach, but it’s a start.

“Thank you…” He nods before returning to your bathroom. You watch him, trying to conceal how apprehensive you are.

There was something still nagging at you to stop him. You told yourself you didn’t want him to feel obligated. And feeling like you were bossing him around also sucked. But with every grimace he made at a strong smell, every curse he muttered when he dropped something, or any sign of displeasure, you felt panic set in. You realized you started to grit your teeth and shrink slightly, preparing yourself for him to blow up on you.

You find yourself glancing at the spot on your wall he punched. With time you guys could stay stagnant, maybe by some stroke of luck you’ll go back to normal, but there’s also a chance for your relationship to spoil further. In the coming weeks, you monitor him, waiting for a sign of what’s to come.

Johnny plops down on your sofa after cleaning your windows. He had made a comment about stubborn dirt in the crevices of your window seal, and now he looks extra spent. “I stopped drinking for the headaches, but I’m starting to get a headache from the chemicals.” He murmurs breathlessly.

You nervously make your way over to his bucket of supplies and lift them from the table. Johnny’s eyes fall to the table, which the bucket left a ring on. “Oh! Let me see that for a sec,” He shoots up from the couch and you move the bucket away.

“I can do it!” You accidentally shout, wincing after the fact. “I pretty much have a day off today anyway, and it’s just a little ring.”

“Exactly, so let me get rid of it real quick and the rest of the chores are yours.” He assures. You take a minute to look at your house which looked like no one lived in it. Someone would think you just bought it from the world’s most anal real estate agent. You tuck the bucket into one arm.

“You’ve done so much already,” Again the two of you find yourselves having this same back and forth. You sigh, closing your eyes only to open them when his figure blocks out the light. He sets a gentle hand on the bucket.

“It’s your day off, you should be resting.” He states quietly. The dull thuds of your heart hammering against your ribcage fill your ears.

“Here, hit me right here.”

You attempt to retreat from him like a wounded dog backed into a corner. He feels his mild confusion shift to dread when he realizes what’s going on. Suddenly he’s back in his own living room, standing over your figure on the couch. You’re staring up at him with that same glint of fear and mistrust.

You gasp loudly when he grabs your wrist. The feeling of him tugging it higher makes you shriek and drop the bucket to the ground. You cower away from him, tucking your head into your shoulder. Your reaction shakes him, but he remains steadfast. He clenches his eyes shut and cocks your hand back before striking across his own face.

You untense slightly, turning your head to face him. He’s heaving, hair slightly mussed. He gives you an emphatic look. “Ball your fist.”

“Johnny- no!” You snatch your arm away, the deranged moment only becoming less sane when the loss of his touch makes your heart fall.

Johnny takes a step back, taking a minute to gain the courage to look at you again. “I hate that you’re afraid of what I’ll do to you.” He tries to blink away the tears but they trickle from his eyes regardless. He curses under his breath. He wasn’t ready to look so soft around you. “Even that day, if you had slapped me I probably would’ve cried in front of everyone before I ever laid a hand on you. I hate that I made you feel this way.” He winces as he replays you cowering away from him and the sound of the bucket clattering to the floor in his mind.

Your hand still stings but all you can think about is how it must feel for him. Maybe you’re just an idiot and this is some game you’re falling for, but you give up on trying to figure it out. “For now I can’t help it, but that can change.”

His glassy eyes inspect your expression as he pores over your words. Feeling spontaneous, you reach your hand up and caress his face. He immediately melts into your touch and you could break down at the sight. Guilt gnaws harder at you, grilling you on why you haven’t been there for him. All your heart sees now is the kid you cried fountains for and with. Another part reminds you of how you got here and you pull away.

“But I can revert even faster.” You warn. Johnny sniffles before nodding and staring at you blankly. Of course, what was he doing? Nuzzling into your hand like a puppy. He clears his throat and shakes his head. “No, you’re right. I’m s-”

“But don’t apologize! If we’re going to coexist we need to be more upfront and honest with each other, or else we’ll just go in circles.” You pick the bucket back up again and regard him with a steady stare. Johnny straightens up and wipes away any moisture left in his eyes.

“No apologizing and be more upfront, got it.”

“Chaeyoung is about ready to post her side of the story, so do you have your statement ready? Let me see it.” Taeyong is antsier by the day. You only see him when you’re talking about the group. He leans over his dining room table in anticipation of you whipping out your phone. You clench your eyes shut. “Taeyong, I haven’t written it.”

“What?! I mean, do you need me to write it for you? Because I can. I just thought you’d be able to do one thing.” Taeyong settles back into his seat as he mutters the last part. It felt like everyone was pushing you about this damn statement. All Jisoo and Jungwoo do is politely ask you about it and you can just hear it in their voices. ‘You still haven’t done it?’

Naeun is only here in spirit and yet it’s like she’s screaming at you. You’re causing more damage to her career and in turn her mental health the longer you wait. And now you’re gonna leave Chaeyong, someone who actually has pictures to worry over, to fend for herself.

“I’m… I’m gonna do it, it’s just that this is more than a PR move for me, you have to know that.” You argue, exasperated over your own loaded thoughts.

“It can be both, you know that right? That’s what Chaeyoung is doing. You can honor the weight of the situation while giving your image a boost. The Earth won’t implode.” His words ooze with ridicule and it stings bad. You roll your tongue inside your mouth, nodding as you let the pain fester.

“Is that all you think this is? Me trying to “honor the weight of the situation”?”

“I think you feel obligated to do the right thing all the time.” He meets your exasperation with infuriatingly calm patronization. You were staying quiet for personal reasons, in fact, your selfishness in this situation is what’s ripping you apart. He has no clue what he’s talking about and yet he speaks to you as if he can read your mind. You open your mouth but he beats you to the punch. “You’re not saving people by doing something so insignificant.”

“Then why do it at all? If it’s so insignificant?”

“Because it’ll stop the oncoming attack you’re in for. How many times do I have to spell it out for you? The people campaigning against you are growing. Your first mistake was joining a group with such an entitled fanbase.”

“Joining Mark’s group was the best thing to ever happen to me.” You clench your fists, wanting to stand up and storm out but you just bottle it up. You should be saying that about him, but even now he’s barely looking at you outside of annoyed glances.

“When you want to help stop your reputation from being ruined, come talk to me.” He calmly asks you to leave his home, says he has work to do.

“We can’t…” All that anger gets swept away from his request for you to leave. You haven’t even tried asking him. You just assumed he would say no, but he’s your boyfriend. “We can’t just hang out? I don’t know… cuddle or something…”

“You know how busy I am.” He gives you that look that’s like a silent suggestion to rethink what you just said. You can’t help but feel a little guilty. At the end of the day, he’s doing this all for you. All so you can have a career that feels like your own. He’s even helping you get the growing hate under control. And you had the nerve to snap on him and think about storming out.

“I’m sorry.” You follow his instruction to leave and stand outside of his door for a moment. You need a moment to unpack your swarming thoughts. Speaking out for your own reputation is as phony and selfish as can be, but it’s no different from what you’ve been doing anyway. You’re risking being seen as selfish either way. The only person close to being in the same boat as you is Chaeyoung, and she’s in a much scarier boat.

Maybe Taeyong is right and you should toughen up. It’s advice you’d given to yourself time and time again.

Mini dresses, fringe or tassels, lace, and cutouts. They were all listed as predictions for next year's trends. They’re also a description of your closet currently, even at the beginning of the year. To be fair, the amount of range your closer has could include last year’s to the next decade’s trends. Looking on Tumblr or Pinterest and the most popular runway or everyday fashion looks made you excited. You could probably recreate them almost perfectly if you wanted to. And you did. But you couldn’t.

The designer black dress in your hands still had that ‘new smell’ to it. Soon enough it’d be overtaken by the smell of your closet, not drenched in your natural scent or favorite perfume. You coast your fingers along the fabric, the smoothness of the mulberry silk interrupted by slightly coarse lace. On the site, there were beautiful thin but toned women adorned in the dress showcased to taunt you. Inviting you to follow the Instagram page to taunt you even further. More than the Tumblr and Pinterest posts already do.

Sometimes you make it far enough with your rose-tinted glasses to try them on and look in the mirror. Sometimes they don’t fit and you feel relieved, more justified for putting a hole in your wallet and still not wearing them. But no. The black dress fits like a glove. It accentuates your figure, giving the illusion of an hourglass shape. Where could you even wear this, though? It was strapless, very short, and flared out on the sides. It seemed too flashy for a club, right? And you weren’t going to wear it to a museum or something. You don’t even go to those anyway. It would be a mistake to step out of the house in this, letting yourself be perceived by everyone. You’d be asking to be judged.

Wearing jeans and a t-shirt or a sweater or a jacket or a coat was like cloaking yourself. People are still nosy but less likely to hyper-focus on you and question your methods of covering your naked body.

But you stand there, staring a hole into your dress through the mirror. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek feeling that contempt from when you cut your finger resurfacing. You paid four hundred for this. It fits like a glove.

Oftentimes you think about tweets made by the women you follow. Just slightly more attractive to you than you perceive yourself.

They’d show off just the most over-the-top outfit with so many accessories it covered more skin than the actual clothes. Sometimes they’d wear the most revealing clothes you’d ever seen, making your jaw drop. The caption accompanying the pictures would be something like ‘putting on a fashion show for my neighbors’ or ‘about to go get groceries’. Every time you’d think to yourself these people are ridiculous.

But you liked the tweets. You followed them. Left lovely comments encouraging them and got silently angry at the naysayers. Even so, there was still a voice in your mind reminding you that these actions were illogical. It was fun to engage online but never to imitate in real life. Naeun would probably laugh if she saw you in this. That was reality, you told yourself.

But as you look at yourself in the mirror, the tweets come to mind, fueling you to leave the dress on. I should do my makeup too.

You weren’t going anywhere, and if people were in the room with you they’d surely point that out, but it was thrilling. As you pat the velvety foundation onto your skin you felt a rush. You even put on the lace gloves that reached your elbow. By the time you look in the mirror again, you had strappy heels on and your hair styled. Your makeup skills were a little rusty, but your heart swelled when you looked in the mirror.

You pose like the models on the site, like the models on the runway, like users on Twitter and Tumblr. Snap, snap, snap. There’s a wall of pictures of you in your camera roll. Pictures of you that were separated by a lengthy scroll of other things before you could reach the last picture of you. And you only deleted four out of the lineup.

You load the pictures into Twitter, ready to post your four favorites when you stop. You analyze the pictures again, removing one from the tweet, replacing it, then removing that one. Ultimately you opt not to tweet the pictures. Your Tumblr had a fraction of the audience of your Twitter and the user base scared you less. So you post your original four there before you could second guess yourself. You squeal as you hit ‘Post’, tossing the phone afterward. The pings were few and far in between but they still made your heart race. You leave your phone face down on your bed.

“Hey I was thinking-” The door clicking along with the sound of Johnny’s voice made you jump and yelp. You cover your body with your pillow and gawk at him. He stops and flushes, face getting red hot within moments. Your short dress is perfectly hidden with the pillow and he’s stuttering like crazy.

“Oh my god… I am so sorry I don’t know why I didn’t knock-” It was because you were usually at your computer around this time, dressed casually with no makeup on. So the thought of you being naked behind that pillow paired with how beautiful your face and hair looked right now is very bad news for Johnny.

You’re ready to shrivel into nothing and whimper until he leaves, but then your phone starts blowing up. Ding after ding distracts the both of you from this peculiar situation. You steel yourself, slowly standing from the bed and placing your pillow back at the head of your bed. Both of you continue to look at the phone before you stand to pick it up. Tumblr, other than Instagram, is the only app you didn’t mute notifications on because of how dead it usually is. It’s been a while since you heard this many notifications.

There was a chance your pictures got the wrong kind of traction. Someone reblogged them to pick fun at you and now everyone was laughing at you. But as you see the pictures again you think why? You like the pictures, you look over every detail and decide there’s nothing wrong with them. So why would they laugh at you?

You clench your teeth as you click over to the notification tab, completely loosening up as you’re flooded with all the cute emojis and loving words your mind registers. Your heart feels like it’ll fly right out of your chest.

Right. Exactly.

When you look up at Johnny he’s staring at you, mouth dropped open. You steel yourself again and suck in a large breath.

“Yup. I dressed up. A-and I’m not going anywhere so don’t ask!” You respond defensively to basically nothing but it’s not like you care. Johnny swallows, failing to placate his dry throat.

“You don’t have to be. Everything looks so well put together… you look like a celebrity.”

The crease between your brow eases as your defenses fall in one great big explosion.

Your silence spurs Johnny to speak again. “I-I mean, I’m only pointing that out because I’m sure celebrities dress up for no reason too. So it’s… normal? I didn’t mean to be weird-”

“I’m going to get groceries.” You say with a smile too big to be talking about something so mundane.

“Okay, do you need me to come?”

“Nope! I got it.” You grab your purse before heading out of your room. “Wait!” He blurts out at the last second. You grip the leather strap of your purse as you wind yourself back around to face him. You were losing your courage fast, you needed to get out of here before you chickened out. Johnny realizes his lack of haste and pries his mouth open to get on with it already. “Next time you dress up… would you mind… including me. Like before.” His wording would be vague to anyone but the two of you, and maybe Jaehyun. And perhaps it was a bold ask, maybe too soon, but this development made Johnny too giddy to stop himself.

Touched would be an understatement, you could feel innumerous emotions drumming on your heart. Awe, excitement, appreciation. Longing.

“I’d love that.” You smile, unsure steps taking you backwards out of the doorway as you flash a timid smile at him. You finally pull away, shutting him in your room to bask in the sunny interaction he just had.

The door reopens not too long after and he wonders now if you forgot something. You march back into the room, attempting to feign confidence to make up for lost momentum. “Not quite ready for that yet, so I’m gonna change.”

But you did keep the hair and makeup, if that counts for anything. You shivered with excitement as you loaded your items onto the conveyor belt.

Your Tumblr had blown up in a matter of a week. The majority of your new followers had no idea who you were. Some found out through surprised replies from Dreamie fans and especially surprised ones from your older viewers, but most didn’t have a clue. It was freeing, you could read the notifications without being faced with allegations and theories. Nor any reminders.

You were still grateful for your Twitch audience, though. They were the reason you could plan to move to a different, better living quarters. You couldn’t look at them as burdens or harassers because you couldn’t blame them. They deserved to know who they were supporting, giving money to, who’s name they wore on their clothes, hats, and backpacks. You wouldn’t want to support or advertise anyone who knew or took part in that group chat either.

“You’re going to visit Chaeyoung. She wants to talk to you and I think it’s good for you to hear her out.” You nod after Taeyong speaks, noticing how sore your jaw is from clenching it so tightly.

“She’ll be free next week, I gave her your number so she’ll let you know the specific date and time. As you know, she’s a little eccentric so you won’t have to worry about how you’re dressed.” His eyes flicker over at your blouse and you curl your shoulder forward instinctively.

It was an elegant, see through button up with sleeves that flared just after your wrists. You put a light green bralette underneath, but maybe it was too much right now.

When you were at home, though, you were unstoppable. Crafting looks was addictive, you practically ran to your room when you got home. You could finally recreate those looks you saw on social media, but you mostly did your own thing. From recreating fits with your own flare to crafting them from scratch. Posting them to Tumblr earned you so much praise and tips (which were greatly appreciated in the makeup department). It was almost as enjoyable as putting together the looks.

It was nearing the day you’re to visit Chaeyoung and someone had posted a thread of your looks to Twitter. It gained a lot of traction, in turn gaining you more followers on Tumblr.

Then the news breaks out.

“POLICE INVESTIGATION ON POTENTIAL REVENGE PORN GROUP CHAT HAS BEEN CLOSED AFTER FINDING NO SUBSTANTIAL EVIDENCE”

It seems like every step forward sends you two steps back. You can’t think about this right now. So you go back onto Tumblr, reading each beautiful comment. And the replies on Twitter were nice too. You were scrolling through quote tweets of the thread when you saw it.

‘A bunch of female streamers are worried sick and on the verge of a breakdown and she’s having a fashion show’

It sounded like your own brain, as if this was just a hallucination to taunt you. It wouldn’t surprise you if that were the case. Each passing day of pretending everything was fine was making you feel more and more unhinged. You keep breaking down at random moments, the tiniest inconvenients. Sometimes it genuinely felt like you were thrashing underwater, losing oxygen quickly. So yes, you use Tumblr as a distraction. You try to puff out your chest but you know you’re wrong, and you can’t bury the emotion to save your life.

You think of the screenshots Chaekyung tweeted. The absolutely abhorrent things that were said to her. How shocked she must have felt. How helpless. She was begging for help and no one would step up.

You picture her in her room, all the horrible things people said to her loud in her mind. Wondering if no one cared about her this whole time, and what she did to deserve this.

You knock firmly on the door of her townhouse before bouncing on your toes. She takes quite a long time before finally peeking her head out of the door.

“Hey! Just the girl I wanted to see.” She smirks and pushes the door open. As you walk into her living room you note the theme. If it weren’t for the gray walls and brown wooden flooring, you’d be walking through a black abyss. It’s quite literally her as interior design. With her choppy pitch-black hair and sleeve of tattoos, it wouldn’t make sense if her house looked any other way. Taeyong was right about one thing. You didn’t feel weird at all dressing up to come here.

“Welcome to my humble abode or as I like to call it, emo paradise.” She spreads her arms to present her home, smiling once you laugh at her joke. “Make yourself at home. I’m expecting company, I hope that’s not an issue.”

“Oh of course not.” You perk up, maybe this is just what you needed. Chaeyoung is very popular with female streamers, she could probably introduce you to potential members.

Chaeyoung pours both of you some water before settling on a stool next to you. “I hear you’re having trouble speaking your truth against YangYang.” She not so discreetly glances to catch your reaction to the question. You suck in a breath. “Yeah, but don’t worry! Taeyong is already grilling me to make sure I’m not slacking off.”

“Oh fuck that guy.” Chaeyoung says with ease before taking a sip of her drink. She nearly chokes on her water once she realizes what she’d done. “Shit! I forgot he was your boyfriend, sorry!”

Your immediate response was to be offended, but it fizzled out almost immediately. “I mean, you’re allowed to dislike him.”

“It’s not that I dislike him per se,” She starts, clearly lying, “he just seems like the type of guy to over explain simple things to you to make himself seem smart, you know?”

“So then why are you doing this with us…?” Your question makes her sport a sour expression so you quickly reframe it. “I’m not saying that to be rude! I’m genuinely curious. As soon as Taeyong told me you were helping out I was just a little confused.”

“What do you mean?”

You hum and tap your fingers against the glass. “Does it feel icky? To frame your experience as a PR stunt?”

“Not at all. You know, it was YangYang for me, too.” Hearing her say this makes you think back to both times he propositioned you. “I fucking hated that guy, but I also wanted a quickie and he was hot as hell. I could tell he was having as good a time as I was and then he suddenly pulled out the phone. He told me he wanted a picture because of how hot I was. He was really pushy about it, and to get him to just drop it already I let him. It completely ruined the mood and I left right after, but he didn’t seem to care. Now I know why.”

Chaeyoung sets her glass on the counter and looks at you. “I have niche ass tattoos everywhere. People would know it was me automatically. It’s hard to make me squirm but that really got to me once Naeun’s leaked. I was convinced they’d just start rolling them out. I was pissed. But not just because of mine, because he had the gall to do it again and again. He had so many opportunities to stop and think about what he was doing.” She quirks her jaw, anger undoubtedly coming back to her.

“I just imagined his smug little smile while all these women were panicking and saw red. Now I don’t care what happens as long as that fucker goes down.”

Just from the short amount of time you’ve sat with her you can tell how strong she is. She’s not bluffing to make herself look cool. Sure, she’s not bawling in the corner with her knees tucked into her chest, but you can tell this situation has even her frazzled. Who knows the extent of these other girls’ grief? But something just refuses to click. Every time you try to put yourself in that headspace it slowly dissipates again.

“Aren’t you worried nothing will happen anyway? Or that you’ll make everything worse?”

“I can be careful. I know other people’s reputations are on the line. But I know I can make a difference. I’m just one person and I’m capable of making mistakes, but as long as I can inspire someone to stay strong I’m satisfied.”

Inspire someone to stay strong. You’re reminded of your younger self, as you constantly are with her being permanently embedded inside you. Sometimes you wish you could get rid of her, but other times you realize that she guides you down the right path. Current you wouldn’t have gotten through high school and try to help Johnny while you’re at it. But she did, and with a smile on her face.

“Because the last thing you want is for someone to give in.” You finish, slowly nodding your head. She smiles at you and you give a smile back. “You get it.” She punches your shoulder and you let out a genuine laugh.

“Even if it’s not for our image, I really want to make this group.”

“Then let’s do it, babe.” Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows and her glass, letting you clink yours against hers.

“Knock knock.” A soft voice calls from the door you didn’t even hear open. You turn with a smile still plastered on your face only for it to fall when you see her.

“Naeun! Welcome!” Chaeyoung scoots away from the island to run up to her.

Her eyes look tired and her hair is up in a lopsided bun. She’s dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Naeun was very popular even in mainstream media for her beauty. She’s widely considered one of if not the prettiest woman on the platform. She took pride in how she looked and is sort of infamous for her extensive morning and night routine. If it weren’t for the emotional exhaustion so evident on her face you would think this is how she gets comfortable.

“Chaeyoung…” She trails off, not acknowledging your presence yet as she and Chaeyoung share a tight hug.

“Look at you! All comfy.” She ignores the waver in Naeun’s voice, opting to distract her instead.

“Hello.” Naeun raises her voice a bit to greet you without making eye contact.

“Hi.” You stand from the stool so fast you almost slip and fall. You stabilize yourself, unsure about how to take her not being able to look at you. “Johnny still living with you?”

Through the building guilt from seeing her in person confusion surfaces. “How did you know that?”

“He told me. He used to text me every day until he stopped out of nowhere. I didn’t know if something happened to him, he hasn’t been streaming or updating his social media.”

“Johnny? As in Johnny Suh? Isn’t that douchebag involved?” Chaeyoung’s charged glare that she throws at you sends you scrambling for a response. You hadn’t put much thought into Johnny’s involvement. The thought of him even knowing about it brings an amount of pain that is hard to grapple with. So you go to defend him, more for your own sanity than his integrity. But Naeun beats you to the punch.

“No, he’s not.” She sighs.

“How do you know?” Both you and Chaeyoung ask in unison.

“Do you have alcohol, perchance?” She asks with a strained smile. All three of you migrate to the island and sip on small glasses of liquor, awaiting what Naeun has to say.

“Well?” Chaeyoung asks, not willing to wait any longer.

Naeun snorts, the alcohol pooling warmly in her stomach. “He’s too much of a pussy to do it.”

“That’s… not evidence.”

“And also kinda rude.” You defend him before you can catch yourself. Maybe it’s a little embarrassing, but you decide to stand by it.

Naeun hated talking about Renjun’s party. When she turned up sobbing at her parent’s house they forced it out of her, and now the only things people want to talk about are just motherfucking YangYang and the party. And how turned on her body made them. Naeun lets out a hefty sigh and pulls a nail file from her purse.

“The moment my pictures got leaked my mind went into attack mode and called Johnny screaming. It was just sketchy reflecting on how he sent me to check on you and YangYang. Too convenient.” She stops filing her nails to point the glass file at you. Johnny tried to stop him a second time? You thought.

The feeling that Johnny was a sweet guy lingered even after she cussed him out. Through her anguish, her brain kept nagging at her. Johnny wouldn’t do this, you know that.

She kept wondering why. Why was her mind so sure when her heart ached and she couldn’t stop crying long enough to breathe? When Taeyong first introduced the two of them she noticed a difference automatically. His eyes didn’t track down to her breasts. He was a gentleman, and not in the way that reeks of sleaziness and entitlement. He didn’t give her that wide, phony grin when he opened doors for her or when he offered her his jacket.

They didn’t hang out much, but when they did it felt like a natural human interaction. Not some drooling hound ogling a piece of raw steak. And even after all of that, after all of the niceties and courtesy and genuine conversation, the first favor he asked of her wasn’t a date or sex. It was to check on you. Naeun got the feeling he wasn’t the type to plan all of that in advance for something like this. She just felt it. And she’s been around lots of guys.

“It wasn’t all the voicemails or texts, it was hindsight. Chaeyoung, you’re friends with a lot of lady streamers. Have you ever heard about Johnny being sleazy?” She keeps her eyes trained on the translucent drink on the table, face slotted in between her hands.

Chaeyoung’s eyes flip up to the ceiling giving the question a good amount of consideration. “No, honestly I haven’t heard of him even getting with girls non-sleazily. I remember at one point questioning if he was gay…”

“He’s not gay.” Naeun grins with a short exhaled laugh. “He’s just softer than people think he’s supposed to be. He’s a “pussy”, but to me, that’s not a bad thing.” She glances over at you and Chaeyoung with heavy lids. Through her words and lazy gaze, both of you feel a bit criticized, and maybe rightfully so.

You continue to look into Naeun’s eyes and she gives you a soft, seemingly empathetic smile. She had a softie once. She watched him turn into a monster and then vanish.

“You’ve got a good one. You should keep him around.”

“He’s not-”

There it was, that incessant part of your brain here to remind you of everything Johnny has done. To keep you strong and vigilant. For the longest time, Johnny was this scary monster in your brain, huge as he loomed over you. But after leaving the group he slowly shrunk and became less threatening until now after over a month of living with him. Now all you see is this wide-eyed guy so eager to prove himself to you. Thinking about it, he crumbled as soon as you put your foot down. The others remained wicked ‘til the very end, but Johnny came around almost immediately, warning you when his friends were coming. Maybe he was a pussy. You snort before bursting into a fit of unrestrained laughter. You always were a lightweight.

Naeun watches in awe before cackling herself as Chaeyoung looks on in confusion.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You say between laughs.

“Well, he wants to be.” Naeun recovers before shrugging. You wind down shortly after, her words hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“No, he doesn’t like girls like me.”

“Girl, you’re the only person he’s remotely shown any interest in.” Chaeyoung rolls her eyes.

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s right,” Naeun notes after a moment of silence. “And if “girls like me” means what I think it means, and you’re thinking what I think you are, he hasn’t flirted or shown interest in me.” After so long of no courting, Naeun just assumed he was like that.

“What do you think it means?” You say.

“I think it means you see yourself as lesser than because you don’t look like a model. It’s a global dilemma, I think.”

“Huh.” You weren’t sure if she meant to sting you with her words, but it sure worked if she did. It’s not like you didn’t know you weren’t model material, but sometimes hearing other people confirm your biggest concern in life makes it too real. Suddenly you’re all too aware of what you look like. You decided to be bold and wear a cropped sleeveless corset and heavier eye makeup. Even with no makeup, heavy eye bags, and a dull sweat suit, Naeun outclassed you by a mile. She made that actually messy bun look intentional.

“I dunno. I think you’re pretty cute.” Chaeyoung shrugs before throwing back the rest of her liquor. You grin tightly before pouring more in your cup. “Thanks, Chaeyoung.”

“Now tell me about this group.” Naeun starts. You’re too far gone to think about work right now. “I hear we’re using Taeyong?”

“Naeun!” Chaeyoung nearly chokes again before hissing at the woman. Naeun looks at her confused. You’re lost in your own world, feeling like your corset is pressing into your skin all of a sudden. Oh shit, Taeyong is your boyfriend.

“He’s my boyfriend! Hey!” You close your eyes as if to punctuate your lackluster defense of the man. “No using him!”

Naeun’s face suddenly goes grim as she warily says your name, but you don’t see it. Not that you need to, the tone of her voice is confusing enough.

“What?!”

The room is suddenly so quiet you could hear a pin drop. It unsettles everyone in the room but mostly you. You weren’t drunk enough to miss how somber the atmosphere became. Your head snaps toward Naeun who’s giving you a similar look as the one she gave at the party. Like she had just found you with someone nefarious.

“Not him…”

Johnny sets a package on your bed. Must be another clothing brand sending you free stuff. You’re nearly back to your old ways in terms of fashion. He has witnessed you on multiple occasions second guess your outfit choice as soon as you leave the room and go to put on something safer. On your Tumblr, you post all of the bold looks.

jonvvie: this one looks like an outfit you wore in middle school

___: is this an insult? lol

jonvvie: no! I think it’s cool hwo you made it mor emature

jonvvie: how*

jonvvie: more mature*

Johnny smiles again at the meme you sent making fun of his typos. The person who messages him on Tumblr and the one stumbling drunk through the door feel like polar opposites.

“Fuck Taeyong!” You slur before slamming the door shut. Johnny rushes up to you and guides you to the sofa. He leaves to fill a glass with water before returning to your hiccuping figure. He sets the cup on a coaster before taking your heels off. “That cold sunuvabitch.”

Johnny silently hands you the water and buries his confusion. It seems like you’re gonna spill everything on your own. You actually spill your water all over your shirt before swearing loudly and sending the cup crashing to the floor. “Fuck!”

“Be careful.” Johnny urges, curling your legs onto the couch.

“We’re gonna take that asshole down. Pull the rug right under his stupid feet. He won’t know a thing.”

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he caves. “What do you mean…”

“I dunno, kill him?? No, too risky…” You think for a moment, looking like you’re dozing off as Johnny cleans up the glass and water. You suddenly gasp. “We should blackmail that fucker. Make him do what we want or else.”

“And what do we want?”

“I want…” You pause, suddenly feeling a lot more somber than mere seconds before. Your muddled brain couldn’t make sense of it. You wanted Taeyong. You always have. You finally did it, dated the man of your dreams. “He doesn’t touch me, Johnny.” Your lip quivers suddenly and you want to drive a piece of glass into your throat, but Johnny had already tossed them from the dustpan and was making his way back. “He hasn’t kissed me since the day we first had sex. We don’t have sex.” The words don’t even sound right. A man doesn’t want to have sex? Imagine being so unattractive that a guy doesn’t even wanna fuck you. You laugh derisively at your own misfortune.

“That’s okay, because once I’m done with his ass, I can have Jungwoo again and my bed will at least be warm some of the time.”

Johnny frowns. You must not be searching for suitors or going on dates, either because you’ve been waiting for Taeyong or Johnny ruined that for you too. Possibly both.

Now that Taeyong and your brain have ripped away your last shred of confidence, you were bitter. You wanted Taeyong and you’ve always wanted him, but what about the future? When you’re with him he only looks at you to silently belittle you or to make sure you’re listening to him yap. And all about him looking down on you for wanting to do right by what happened to you? And him speaking so casually about this horrible situation like it’s just another job for him to complete?

You gave him the benefit of the doubt. He wakes up at 6 am every day and is out all the time. Working hard, you thought. When in actuality he was visiting Naeun.

“He started talking to me before dating Nayeon. I liked him for a moment but he said something that didn’t sit right with me, so I pulled away. He’s been pursuing me ever since, apparently through two relationships.”

When he was sucking up to Naeun, did he belittle her too? Or was she too pretty for that? Despite Naeun’s notoriety for her beauty, you would bet on him being discounting her suffering. He probably said something like ‘But that’s in the past now, look!’ And showing how many people support her. Not even factoring in her nudes still being passed around on the internet like a hot potato. ‘Your followers are growing, isn’t that a good thing?’

“You know what I really want? I wanna help those girls.” Gaining a new boost of adrenaline from the idea you settle onto your knees before looking at Johnny and grabbing his face. “You said you didn’t have anything to do, right?”

“I-I uh-”

“Great! We should shut down that group chat ourselves.” You pat his face maybe a little too hard but you were high off of adrenaline right now.

“We can use… Taeyong… somehow… to gain access to the server and shut it the fuck down.”

“I’m liking this plan, but we should talk about it more when you’re sober.” Johnny laughs at how hard you're thinking and how unnatural your blinking is.

“Fine! And sleep in my goddamn bedroom tonight! I made that floor bed up for you and it takes up so much space and I trip on it sometimes and you keep sleeping on the couch!”

Johnny purses his lips before nodding. “Okay. I will.” He lies.

“I’m drunk, not stupid.” You poke his chest. “I know you’re not gonna do it, liar.”

“The couch is fine.”

“You’re always fuckin’ tip toeing around me like I’m the one that hurt you. I should be the one tip toeing motherfucker.”

Your words burn like hell, but there’s no emotion in your voice or face clear enough to decipher them properly. “So stop! Just sleep in my room.”

“I just don’t wanna move too fast.” Johnny stresses as if you’re in your right mind.

“You know, I’m pretty sure we did a blood shake. We’re blood bonded!”

“And spit bonded, I know.”

“Exactly! You’re the one who fucked up. I’m still a good friend.” You point at him before pointing at yourself and looking at him with your barely open eyes. “Matter of fact, where’s a piece of glass,”

“Okay. That’s enough.” He courts you off to your room, getting an earful of your drunken ranting as he tucks you in.

“Good night, we’ll talk in the morning.”

You give him a complicated look, the words having a hard time coming out even in your drunken stupor. You grab his hand, “You’re not lying?”

Johnny kneels, looking at you like he’s never been more serious in his entire life. “You can trust me.”

You're out by the time he’s made it back to your door. He glances back and decides to tuck you in properly. The sound of your computer dinging catches his ear. He walks over to turn it off and can’t help the words his eyes involuntarily catch.

There’s a chat box open between you and an account called ‘gnuykeahc’.

___: Id love you to join

It was the first message he picked up, the second one being the one before that, filling him in further.

___: the group so far consists of me, Chaeyoung, and hopefully Naeun

At the very top are a few that concern him from the other user.

gnuykeahc: I can’t help but wonder if you’re only speaking to me because Twitter called you out

gnuykeahc: I have nothing against you but I refuse to entertain your attempts to clear your conscience

gnuykeahc: I’m sorry

The next messages show you acknowledging her accusations, never making any attempt to refute them. Some messages manage to make Johnny a little sad.

___: I just wish I could make this all go away for you

You knocked out for about three hours before your eyes shot open. You look down at the floor bed, it has become instinctual at this point, and see that it’s empty. The sight adds so much weight to your already heavy heart that you start to cry.

For a moment you actually thought Taeyong was working hard for you. You were sick of being on the side while everyone else prospered. You thought he understood you and fought for you. You have dreamed of this moment since you met Taeyong. You thought that maybe one day he’d spare you some of his love. All you got was a label and a publicity stunt. That’s what this had to be, right?

You shouldn’t be crying, you should be celebrating. Here’s to sex! You being a little less trapped! But the young girl inside you was strong. Stronger than you. So you spend the night lamenting your first love.

Naeun: Hey, got time to talk?

It felt surreal. Not only was she okay but she was reaching out to him to talk? Not cussing him out? It had to be a miracle. Whatever higher power that was up there was being much too gracious to him recently. Him and Naeun meet at a bar. She’s sporting a mask and cap and clothing much more casual than he’d ever seen her in. He quietly sits next to her at a table in the corner. She doesn’t acknowledge him but there’s no way she didn’t see him sit down.

“I’m so-”

“Nope. Not doing that. I don’t want to talk about that situation at all.” She cringes as she instantly shoots him down.

“But I think we need to talk about it, and my involvement, all of that.” Johnny presses.

“I know you weren’t involved. I can tell. I was just really worked up that night. Chaeyoung was ringing my phone off the hook to wake me up and then I got that news. I’m sorry for biting your head off.” She mumbles the last part.

“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t know about the group chat but I was still okay with those guys being douchebags. I was a douchebag and I enabled them.”

Naeun chews at her dry lips beneath the mask. Her skin was a mess and she was behind on her lip treatment. She felt disgusting. She didn’t know that the way she shied away from him and the way she acted after this whole debacle was very familiar for Johnny. “What’s important is that you didn’t cross the line.”

“Debatable.”

“I’m talking about what YangYang and those other guys did. That level, you haven’t reached that. You still have time to mend what you’ve done. Starting with your roommate.”

“Who, ___?” Johnny says, looking at her in confusion. “Where is this coming from?”

Naeun sighs, cradling her head in her hands. “I told her about Taeyong. I didn’t know she’d react like that. I expected her to be heartbroken, but I thought she’d just go home early or something. Not down an entire bottle of grey goose. She was already tipsy from the tiniest amount.”

Johnny laughs. “Yeah, she always was a lightweight.” You never quite explained what happened, and Johnny was tempted to ask. He stops himself. You’ll tell him if you want him to know.

"You need to hurry up and tell that girl you love her.“

It was Johnny’s turn to let out a heavy sigh. He should order a drink or two. “I can’t do that. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Things are going so well.” Johnny says. He’s fine with waiting. “And I’m sure she’s aware I love her. We’ve known each other since middle school, that doesn’t just go away.”

“What? No you idiot. I mean romantically.” Naeun watches as his face turns beet red and she blows a raspberry and drops her head. “Unbelievable.”

“I definitely can’t do that.” Johnny shakes his head frantically. “She doesn’t like guys like me anyway.”

Naeun laughs again, this time sarcastically. “The two of you I swear…” She sobers her expression and finally looks Johnny dead in the eyes. “She needs you.”

Johnny thinks back to your sobs muffled by your closed door. He let out a few tears himself that night. “Well, I’m here. Plus, she’s still in love with Taeyong, despite whatever he did.”

“You’re probably right, but you have to promise you’ll confess after she gets over it.”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“What, promise? Fine. But at least consider it.”

Naeun wasn’t quite grasping what Johnny was worried about. He wasn’t too surprised. It isn’t every day you meet a pairing like you and Johnny. “I’m just worried I’ll do something and mess everything up.” This is Johnny’s last chance to do right by you. He blinks away the tears threatening to humiliate him. “I can’t lose her.”

“This is so cliche, do I even need to say it? If you love her, you have to be okay with letting her go. If she’s over Taeyong and reacts negatively to your confession to the point that it’s relationship ending, maybe it was time for that relationship to end anyway.”

She was so blunt. She definitely doesn’t understand. She could’ve stabbed him and that would’ve hurt less. The tear rolls down his face and he angrily wipes them away. He can’t think of a response that isn’t driven by his heightened emotions.

“Maybe she doesn’t need you but,”

“Naeun, I get it-”

“I had a relationship like you guys’ in high school.”

Johnny’s jaw clamps shut, resentment having a hard time draining from his eyes but he hears her out.

“She said a lot about the two of you while she was drunk. Sorry if she reamed you that night, I would blame Chaeyoung.” She starts, continuing when Johnny just grits his teeth. “I told you about the guy that gave me hell in high school. Well, we used to be best friends. I’m talking knew each other as toddlers. Our fathers were best friends and they promised to make their kids friends as well. It worked. He and I were like each other’s diary. I could tell him anything and it just made me feel better.” A strong bond like that seemed near impossible to end badly. Maybe drift apart, but to become enemies and hurt someone you loved for so long?

“We were inseparable by the time high school came around. One night at a party we got drunk and hooked up. I could tell something changed the next day. Something was wrong. I tried to go over to his house and his mom mean-mugged me before slamming the door in my face. He spread the rumor about me being a disease-ridden-slut and the rest was history.” She recounts wistfully as if she wasn’t telling the most heart wrenching story Johnny had ever heard.

“Why didn’t you tell me the two of you used to be friends?”

“Because I tried to pretend it wasn’t true. It was easier that way.” Naeun was feeling about ready for a drink as well. “This mess is bringing it all back. I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“And for what? To make me feel better? Why are you being so charitable, Miss Lee?” Johnny nudges her with his shoulder and she smiles.

“Like I said. You didn’t reach that level.” He was able to pull back before he did something truly despicable. All because of how much he loved you. Naeun dreamt all the time that Sungchan didn’t let his mother slam that door on her. That he pushed through and embraced her and told her it was gonna be okay.

Johnny’s heart ached for the woman beside him. As if it didn’t ache enough already. She turns to him, staring longingly into his eyes before pulling her mask down. Before they could notice what was happening, they were drawing nearer before they tenderly closed the gap. They pull back after a short kiss, neither of them feeling what they intended.

“We can play around for now, but we can’t fix each other.” Naeun shakes her head. “We can only do that for ourselves.”

You’ve spent the entire day crying. It took everything in you not to cry when Taeyong was here. He asked if it was because of Johnny. An act. A poor one that somehow you completely missed. Right when you thought there weren’t any tears left, you cried some more. It was always a far-fetched fantasy.

But the more anguish you experienced, the more serious you felt about your plan. Johnny rushes into the door late at night, throwing his jacket right on the floor.

“Let’s do this.”

Working together with Johnny, Naeun, and Chaeyoung, you were so confident. You were passionate and angry. It was the clearest glimpse of the old you Johnny had gotten in ages. But the day Taeyong is supposed to come over you lose a lot of that drive. It’s quickly replaced with anxiety.

Naeun’s advice weighs heavy on Johnny’s mind. It would absolutely kill him if his confession ruined your relationship. He doesn’t even want to entertain that thought. But maybe Naeun was right about letting you go.

Before he even thinks about doing that, he’s going to do everything in his power to make a significant impact on your life. More than the pitiful kid from your childhood or your supposed best friend that hurt you. He wants to set you back on track to the amazing person you were destined to be before he derailed you.

“What’re you nervous about.”

“Um…” You stare at the door, waiting for him to walk in. After this the two of you will be broken up. “I-I don’t know what’s about to happen and I’m scared.”

“What’s gonna happen is we’ll talk to him just like we practiced and it’s gonna work out.” Johnny glances over with a smile as you stand side by side.

“How can you be so sure? I just- I don’t understand.” There was nothing to be so sure about, nothing guaranteeing their success. You’d have a much easier time in life if you could figure out what everyone else’s confidence was rooted in.

“Because you’re determined to make things right.” When your head swivels toward Johnny he gives you a serious expression. “And I am too.”

The door opens but the two of you don’t stop looking at each other. Taeyong huffs as he sits at your dining table, one of the two main areas that have become your judgment zone. He jogs a stack of papers before giving the two of you a weary look without moving his head.

“Can you leave for a second? I’d like to talk to my girlfriend.”

Seeing his face again you realize something that brings an inkling of your fire back. Taeyong hadn’t visited nor spoken to you in six days.

“We’d both actually like to talk to you.” You state, making Taeyong look confusedly between the both of you. “We need you to do us a favor. We want access to the group chat and we know you’ve got connections.”

“Bold of you to assume. Even if I did, I’m not getting involved with that more than I have to be.” Taeyong replies without a second of consideration.

“Okay then, fine.” You settle at the table across from him. Your jaw was starting to get sore again as you stare him down. “I know about Naeun, she knows about me, and we’d both like you to leave us the fuck alone.” You spit, nostrils flaring as the contempt for this man builds inside of you. Six days.

“Naeun-” He scrunches his eyebrows before dread sets in on his face. “Hold on-” He fishes for his stupid phone in his pocket, only fueling your fire more.

“No need. Naeun blocked your number and gave us screenshots of your conversations. We’re not gonna post them as long as you just help us.” Johnny remains calm and rational, an accidental good cop to your bad cop.

“So, what, you’re blackmailing me? Even if that wasn’t a crime you should know to tread carefully, right?” Taeyong remains calm as well, giving that look that shows just how he thinks of the people around him.

“If you do a thing to either of our reputations Naeun will finally make a statement and include you in it, and your creepy and disrespectful texts to her.” You respond, not as calm but your passion made him falter a bit.

“You’re really gonna blackmail me for this? your pictures aren’t even in there.” Taeyong reasons frustratedly.

“Doesn’t matter to me. I know it’s a hard concept for you to understand, but I don’t like to see people get hurt. I played it your way and it felt horrible. I don’t know how you live like this but I don’t care. Just get us what we need and we’ll part ways for good.” It takes everything in Johnny not to give you a proud look.

Taeyong laughs mockingly, tilting his head to the side before looking back at you. “After all that work I put into helping with your group you’re just gonna kick me to the curb?”

“All that work?” You stand from the table as you glare at him. “You mean flirting with Naeun while we were in a relationship?”

“Please don’t stand there and act like you weren’t willfully ignorant. I let you live your fantasy and you ignored all the red flags and read fanfiction. The two of you are really good at dodging blame.” Johnny grabs your shoulders when he senses you’re about to blow up.

“You asshole…” Your voice trembles.

“Look, we just need to gain access to the group chat. That’s all. We just need that one favor, it doesn’t have to get messy.” Johnny hesitates for a moment, he didn’t want you to find out like this. “You already said how much you don’t want to be around her.” You go limp in Johnny's grasp and he lets you go, ignoring the way you look back at him.

“You know what? You’re right. I’ve probably lost ten years off my life dealing with you basket cases. So let’s just get this over with. Also, hun,” He looks at you, smiling even though tears are welling in your eyes. “Good luck on stopping that incoming hate train. You were too busy doing this, I hope you know it’s too late.”

The moment your front door closes you collapse to the floor. Johnny follows you, not holding you but staying close.

//eight months later\\

“Johnny.” You can hear him dragging his feet, explaining why it takes so long for him to appear in your doorway. You just smile from your bed. He knows exactly why you called him.

“Good news, taking my time worked. They completely trust me now.” Johnny forces a smile but you still just stare at him. “So we can start phase two.”

His smile flickers when you sit up in bed.

“Doesn’t that make you happy-”

“Johnny come in here and go to sleep.”

He makes a show of his long sigh. He thinks he’s slick, only coming in to sleep on the floor mattress once you’ve fallen asleep. You got up in the middle of the night one time and he’d dozed off on the couch watching a movie.

“I’m not tired yet.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t relax here. Hell, you could even watch Netflix on my computer if you want.” You suggest lightly as you point to your computer.

Johnny is far past vagueness, the two of you had a long discussion about communication. “Don’t you want some time to yourself? We see each other all day.”

“Not really, I’m sitting at my computer most of the time.”

You were right. The only time you hung out was when you ate dinner or you joined him on the couch and watched whatever was playing. “We don’t have to talk to each other either. You can just lay down or sit in my computer chair. It doesn’t have to be awkward.”

“Okay!” Johnny moves his feet before he could hesitate any more. He lays stiffly on the bed and you curl your body over to look at him. His eyes dance around, refusing to land on you staring at him. He didn’t even get under the covers, he just laid perfectly still with his arms by his side.

“Lovie, what are you doing?”

Johnny groans and presses his cold fingers to his hot face. That name being back was still very new. “Just laying down like you asked.”

“Suggested,” you correct, “and you can always go sit on the couch if you’re uncomfy.”

“No,” Because then he’d have to admit something else was bothering him. Your new room was much more spacious now, so it’s much less suffocating than it would’ve been. Your perfume had already soaked the air of this room. You’ve tried out a new fragrance, one even more intoxicating. Though, anything you decided to spritz your body and clothes with would drive him mad.

You watch him for a few more seconds before taking a quick inhale. “Well I’m going to sleep.”

It’s quiet… it’s awkward. At least for Johnny. You were probably taking your own advice and not making it awkward. His nightmares haven’t exactly gone away, but with the help of his therapist they haven’t been as debilitating. He explained the obvious, that they were rooted in guilt.

“I know that. It’s just getting over the guilt.”

“Do you want to get over the guilt?”

He wanted to answer yes immediately, like it was obvious, but he retracted his answer. Johnny was constantly raking himself over the coals. Telling himself he deserved every bad thing that happened to him.

“I did something horrible.”

“You told me about what she said while she was drunk, is that consistent with her sober opinions?”

Johnny knew what he was doing. She got over it so why don’t you?

“So if she didn’t forgive me, I would be deserving of punishment then but not now?”

“Maybe you should try considering the reasoning behind her forgiveness and not the action itself.”

He didn’t ask him, he should’ve, he’ll remind himself for the next session. What if the reasoning isn’t sound? What if she forgave me too rashly?

“Why did you forgive me?” He forced his question free before it could be locked behind a high security vault. You don’t answer quickly which leads him to believe you’d fallen asleep while he was in deep thought.

“Pretty intense question for bedtime don’t you think?”

Johnny panics, wishing he could wrangle the question and shove it into the vault. Beyond the possibility of the question bothering you was the answer not being something he wanted to hear. What was he thinking?

“It’s my fault. All of this.”

You ever thinking that was remotely possible was a mind boggling riddle he’d rather you explain yourself. He makes a bewildered noise after failing to come up with words.

“I introduced us to Taeyong. I was selfish. He was the only person who smiled at me in the halls when everyone else scowled. He helped me when my books fell. He didn’t back down when his friends made fun of him or Hyojong and Hyuna threatened him. I was a child, but I wonder if I did all of that for my own gain.”

Johnny feels angered by your assumption, ready to scold you for even thinking that way, but he realizes how hard this must be for you. This isn’t the first time since he’s been living with you that you’ve expressed these concerns. You’re just trying to grapple with the aftermath of all of this just like he is.

“I introduced YangYang to the group, and Taeyong invited Nayeon. Lucas and Doyoung came on their own.” He repeats what Taeyong told him that day. “That’s just how it is, but it isn’t so cut and dry. You and I invited who we thought would enrich our lives and each other’s.” YangYang was the only guy in Johnny’s life that didn’t make fun of your looks at the time. Johnny even saw what you saw in Taeyong at first. That’s how it started, bringing people into each other’s lives that would heal your shared wounds.

“Taeyong didn’t pick on you for liking flowers…” Your voice got quieter. “So I thought he was okay.”

“Hey.” Johnny gets up from his bed to kneel beside yours. You turn onto your side and rest your hands over the edge. He places both of his over yours. Neither of you realize that the other is experiencing the same electricity. “I’m fine. Your own mental health should be your priority.”

You breathe a small laugh. Of course it sounds obvious when he says it like that. “I’m a grown man.” Your smile drains away when he says that again.

“Johnny, what does that even mean? You don’t need support?” You ask frustratedly, wanting to get to the bottom of this. “It means I’m not a little boy anymore.” He replies like it’s nothing. Like his own words aren’t kickstarting a whirlwind of thoughts.

“Am I meant to believe all the suffering I witnessed was nothing?”

You forgave him because you thought you caused all this. That’s simply not true, and that reasoning was flimsy just like he thought it would be. Once you fully realize it’s not your fault, you’ll realize you don’t actually forgive him as well. He wants to sulk about it, but his emotions aren’t important here.

“You have enough on your plate.” He murmurs dismissively. He doesn’t explain any further despite what the two of you talked about. He just rolls away from you and stays silent until your mind tires from the endless concerns and lulls you to sleep.

rawdawg: the pussy messiah has arrived!

Johnny cringes at each message that pops up after he speaks. It turns out it was a discord server. No new pictures have been arriving because the three suppliers had fucked off out of fear. The group chat members chastised them but they weren’t stupid enough to go do it either. Even before the leak.

jonssuh: been having fun?

rawdawg: you know it

rawdawg: we got something for ya!

Johnny already knows to look away when the picture loads and scroll up.

jonssuh: what is it? it’s not loading

rawdawg: that stupid bitch purkyung’s nudes, she took them for someone else on snapchat and he got a screenshot

There’s no way those were Chaekyung’s pictures. Most female streamers are still on high alert. And from the few times she’s agreed to meet up with you to talk, she does not seem like the type to make a slip up like this. Johnny was still panicking, though. Hers or not, it was her words against everyone who didn’t like her, which was still unfortunately a lot.

8==D: we should leak it lol

morbius sweep: are you dumb?

morbius sweep: we should blackmail her instead

He told you he’d move forward tomorrow but he wasn’t sure if these were empty threats. These were the three most active users on the server other than Johnny himself trying to build a rapport. They were undeniably lowlifes willing to throw their own lives away to tear other people down and nut in the process. Is this what Johnny looked like to you all these years? Is this how he would’ve ended up in some alternate universe?

Johnny quickly texts you that he’s starting before switching back over to discord.

rawdawg: @ jonssuh are you ever gonna stream again man? you were so funny bro

Blerg: he was super laid back

fbivfk: top tier streamer

As the praise poured in he saw a text from you at the top of the screen.

___: okay. I’m ready

He reviews the plan in his head but keeps getting distracted by the change in discussion. After this, the server would be gone.

morbius sweep: he was legit the funniest one in the group I’m not gonna lie

The first time Lucas ever called him funny was like a temporary high. Especially after all the times he and other people called him corny or lame. He chased that high like his life depended on it. The high was so strong he was able to block out your suffering and at some points, incite it himself. He feels a flicker of that high reading these messages. It had been a while since someone stroked his ego. Right now he was effectively living his high school dream. Having sex with a beautiful woman while being called cool by people similar to the ones that ridiculed him. The people whose opinions mattered the most.

Would his younger self be able to overlook all the caveats littered amongst this fairytale? These people, they’re pathetic. Scrounging for nudes of women who would never give them the time of day. He can’t unsee the piteous nature of it all. And Naeun isn’t fucking him because she’s obsessed with him or thinks he’s cool. Laying in her bed night after night is a constant reminder that she is still coping with her heartbreak.

Worst of all, Johnny couldn’t like the girl if he tried. He’s coming to terms with it now, the fact that you can’t control who you yearn for. You can either deny it and become bitter and miserable or just face the facts.

8==D: Doyoung and Lucas are pretty funny too

rawdawg: we all know who wasn’t

8==D: lol

morbius sweep: at least she isn’t blabbing online like Mark is

rawdawg: she knows her place

The image of your sullen expression was burned into his retinas, and it was even more vivid in this all too familiar situation.

jonssuh: you guys are too kind

jonssuh: I see the archive is filling up, yong is tellin me the cops are talking to him now about the group chat

jonssuh: they’re gonna be on our asses at any moment

rawdawg: this shit is so tiring

morbius sweep: stupid pigs

8==D: I’m not trying to fuck around man, I already deleted everything off my phone

Atreus: why? it’s not that serious

8==D: you’re willing to go to jail over this? the pictures will still be in the archive

rawdawg: just delete em until they can the investigation again

morbius sweep: if we get caught you know they’re siding with the chicks just like everyone else is.

The chat continues to go back and forth just like you predicted. You even prepared a back up plan in case people refused to cooperate. In the end, the consensus is that it’s better to be cautious. There are definitely some users lying about cooperating, and still a couple refusing altogether.

He wants to ask why they’re doing any of this when the risk of another woman getting exposed is still there. Johnny felt the same skepticism when talking about Chaekyung with you. She seems to only be meeting with you so you’ll eventually leave her alone. She doesn’t seem keen at all.

“It’s about bringing peace of mind. To make the situation less harrowing.”

Johnny starts typing again. Maybe the people who still have pictures will be too cowardly to post them.

jonssuh: @ everyone make sure to delete them, if they search your phone and find them you’ll be getting me in trouble with you

It takes longer than he expected, then again he was being impatient. He was pacing in the living room until everyone in the server took the poll. Ninety-seven percent said they followed through, the other three percent checked that they wouldn’t.

jonssuh: last call! I’m about to lock away the archive until this clears up

You bite your nails as you wait on him to tell you when. You have the server owner’s password written on a napkin for time sake.

“Did he say it yet?” Chaeyoung asks for a second time.

“No.” You confirm in a low voice, concentrating on your phone. You weren’t sure if this could get you in trouble with the law. Tampering with evidence, or something. You were surprised by how little you cared. They fumbled the ball once and now you were taking matters into your own hands. Truly getting rid of the pictures for good.

Lovie: NOw

You race to log in, fingers trembling as you quickly mouse over the server settings. With a few clicks the server is deleted, and if Johnny followed the order correctly the archive was too. You jump up from your seat with an elated squeak. “I did it! It’s done!”

Chaeyoung hugs you from your back and hoists you into the air with a grunt. You’re not even phased by your sudden airborne state. This was finally over.

Getting over Taeyong is harder than you care to admit. He never loved you, it’s what you keep telling yourself. But then you think of his body pressed against yours in the back of Lucas’s car. How you were sure he was about to kiss you. The night he asked to be with you, that kiss was breathtaking. The sex, you were so eager to give yourself to him. It was easy to convince yourself that he felt something too.

But as time went on, you found out what real pain felt like. You tried to keep it concealed to not worry your friends or fans but you were suffering. He was pure evil and you fell head first into his trap.

You steadily cut the carrot on the chopping board, being sure to go slow as you felt your heart wither. It hits you randomly, strong bursts of sorrow that send you toppling over like a flimsy house of cards. Reality hitting you coincided with taking the group chat down. Chaeyoung tweeted about it, even though that wasn’t part of the plan. You all were only supposed to tell the people involved so they could worry less. The tweet gained a lot of traction and news spread fast. You and Johnny were getting so much love. The groupchat and most of the pictures were gone, and your group was coming along swimmingly. All you could think about was how easily Taeyong toyed with your heart.

You stop and set the knife down for a moment to collect yourself. You inhale, surprised when your breath gets caught. You feel your eyes start to get misty and try to distract yourself. Johnny is right next to you preparing the meat. Neither of you have reached out to the other directly to help. It’s strange, because the other seems eager to do the helping. Johnny can be a bit sheepish about it, but he expresses his willingness to help in small ways.

Envisioning Johnny comforting you doesn’t sound bad at all. In fact, the two of you find ways to touch each other all the time. It’s electrifying, even when it’s his fingers brushing against your arm. You wouldn’t mind a hug right now. But it’s getting to that part that’s difficult for you.

“Takin’ a break?” He asks amusedly. You don’t mean to be cold but you’re in no mood to joke right now. You turn away from him slightly, knowing the tears are coming. Crying wasn’t going to help anything, and you’d look absolutely pathetic begging for a hug. How could he even stand being around you for so long?

He calls your name cautiously before setting aside the spice bottle in his hand. He inches closer to you and feels it. You cried a lot when you first found out Taeyong was cheating. Then it subsided. Then Taeyong looked straight into your eyes while he crushed your heart in his hands. You focused your energy on the plan and your group, but he could still hear you every night. Then it just stopped.

But as he approached you, he could tell this was different. He got an inkling you were no longer mourning the relationship. You were starting to put the pieces together.

“If you need to go lay down, I’ll finish myself.” Johnny successfully catches a glimpse of your face. You looked disturbed by whatever was churning in your brain. Should he have told you what he realized way back when Jaehyun was here? Every time he considered it it felt like that night he ran to your house. You had a right to be defensive, and maybe telling you now would make you realize you still don’t forgive him.

It happens in an instant, your face was dry and then comes the flow of tears. “I’m sorry.” He was probably sick of hearing you cry, and now you were doing it in front of him. “I-I’m sorry I’ll go,” You replace your wavering voice with a sturdier one as you try to peel away.

Johnny grabs your shoulder gently and reaches for the other, turning you to face him. You guard your tear-soaked face. “It’s not a big deal, I know.” You say as if you know he’s thinking it. He shakes his head dumbfoundedly.

“It is a huge deal. I’m just sorry you had to find out this way.” It’s hard for him to focus as he watches you cry. He’s consoled you probably a hundred times. Even if he hasn’t done it in a while, he has a starting point. The only caveat is that once he does this, he knows it’ll only be harder to leave. As he brushes your tears away with the back of his hand you feel that electricity again, and you convince yourself that maybe it’s just because it’s been a while. You unguard your face, letting him see your desolation in all its glory. You feel yourself unwittingly tensing up as if you were preparing for something bad, but as you bathe in his doting gaze you realize something. You don’t feel small or insignificant at all.

Then he takes your hand and guides you to the couch. He sits in the middle and pulls you to sit in between his knees. As soon as you’re settled there your heart is set alight when you realize. That’s not even half of the emotion Johnny is feeling as massages his fingers into your scalp. Just like when you were kids, your neck goes limp and you rest it on his right thigh. A lengthy sigh leaks from your lips as your body starts to untense. Johnny’s heart is filled beyond capacity as he watches serenity wash over your features. It feels like it could burst.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask, voice still feeble. You remember vividly how hurt you felt when Johnny spoke to Taeyong. You already said how much you don’t want to be around her. You’ve never felt so undesirable in your life. Those words had a hand in tainting your memories of Taeyong. Johnny doesn’t doubt for a second you’re talking about Taeyong. It’s loaded in your eyes every time you’ve looked at him since. That unspoken acknowledgement.

“At first I held off because I didn’t want it to be like that night we all came over. When YangYang first tried to take advantage of you. I’ll be honest, I was worried about you, but deep inside I knew it was just a ploy to see you again.” Johnny starts carefully and ends regretfully. “I was being selfish and ignoring your wishes.” He slows down his massaging, moving his hand in wide circles.

“I started having suspicions he was using us from the beginning.” You pull your head back up straight, and a small part of him is glad he can’t see your face. He just focuses on your scalp. “I think… I think he used us to strengthen his altruistic image. Bullies strike fear into people for respect, he was just trying a different approach to gain even more respect.”

He sits with your silence, letting you soak in the information as he continues to soothe you. When you finally speak it makes him stop completely.

“Did he… I mean he had to. He thought I was unbearable the entire time.” Your mind tortures you with flashes of what you probably looked like all this time. The fat, mouth-breathing, hard to look at nuisance that kept following him around. The sole reason he got tired of keeping up with his act. He just couldn’t stand you that much. And could you blame him?

Who cares what he thinks? Is what nips at the back of his brain but he shoos it away. Johnny did at one point. Being in that group chat made him realize the true nature of all the people whose opinions he valued more than his self respect and best friend. They were ten times more embarrassing than the people they looked down on.

“I know how bad it feels when people successfully weaponize their valued opinions against you. It feels like no matter what you do, you’re gonna be seen as wrong. It makes you feel powerless but that is an illusion.” The way Johnny emphasizes his words reads as him finding credence in these words himself. “You have the power to control your circumstance by shattering this illusion. The women you follow on social media have either figured this out or are getting there.”

“I understand that.” Your spine was starting to hurt from not relaxing against him but you just couldn’t get yourself to. “I just don’t understand how.” How to get there or how people can be so confident. How could anyone know for sure if they have power?

“Me neither. I still don’t, at all.” Johnny gulps, heart stilling for a moment. “But what I did understand was that I loved you. Love you.” You grow even stiffer, rigid from the intensity of his words. Of course he loves you, why does this feel so… real? “And that’s all it took.”

Johnny starts massaging a little faster, a tinge of awkwardness setting in after he second-guesses his decision. Then you rest your head on his bare knee and his face goes hot again. “B-but um… yeah I just wanted- you should pursue what’s important to you. Dwelling over the complexities can just send you in circles.”

Suddenly the fact that you were touching each other, kind of a lot, was very apparent to Johnny. His nightmares have effectively killed his arousal. And any time he imagines you in your bed he can’t stop thinking of your blank stare and worrying question. Johnny sighs, the heat draining from his cheeks once he’s brought back to reality. He needs to start planning to move out of your house and back into his.

“It was nice living with you.”

“You too.” You speak in a hushed voice, the finality of it all makes your stomach drop. Living with Johnny as adults was a fantasy you conjured up as kids. It was time to be serious.

“Johnny?”

“Hm?”

“I want to help you.”

Gravel crunches under the wheels of Johnny’s car as he pulls into his house. The pace is sluggish, and even when he parks he doesn’t take his hand off the wheel. You’re not ecstatic about going back in there either. This time you were alone to grapple with any strong emotions this causes for the both of you.

You’ve made it clear to Johnny that you’re here if he needs you but he has yet to accept that invitation. Even offering to help clean was a bit of a struggle. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. You guys were chatting more casually now, and when you look at him you don’t see the asshole who tormented you in this house. You see the goofball with too many damned dad jokes. You see a sweet and supportive friend. You see a scared boy calling out for help.

“Are you okay Johnny?” You speak softly as your eyes fall to his hand clenched around the steering wheel.

“Why wouldn’t I be? We’re just cleaning a house.” He unlocks his jaw to mumble. It hurt to admit, but this defensive side of him felt like the last remnants of the Johnny that wounded you. You felt yourself subconsciously walking on eggshells when he got like this and it slightly angered you. All this progress and he was carelessly waving it off.

“Is it because of what happened after we took you home from the bar?”

Johnny’s head snapping toward you startles you a bit. “What’s “it”?” he asks incredulously.

“Why you’re acting like this. One minute you’re sweet and doting and the next you’re cold and dry. It only happens when I offer to help you with something.” You defend, tone insisting your question is in good faith.

“I-” He starts, pausing with a grumble once he notices his carelessness. “I know you said you do this because you’re a good friend, but I can’t help but feel like you’re coddling me.”

“Here you go again, Johnny. It’s not coddling you, you’re not less of a man for getting a little help!” You’re directing your bitterness at the existence of this argument at him, you can’t help it.

“Does Jisoo come over and clean your house for you?” He argues back.

“But you did. Is it okay to baby me but not the other way around? We’re both adults.”

“I was repaying you for letting me stay at your house.” Johnny tries to sanitize his tone and de-escalate things before things get out of hand. If he were to let go of the steering wheel his hands would be trembling.

“I’m here because this is about more than cleaning and you know that.” You reel yourself back immediately. You were unsure if this would help in the long run, you were getting things off both your chests. And you did ask him to be honest with you. It feels like more of a curse than a blessing, there was nothing cathartic about this. The two of you barely bickered as kids. The biggest fight you had back then was about a particularly low blow he delivered while you were following Hyuna around. You didn’t talk to each other for a few days, driving you even further into delusion. Things finally resolved after whatever happened with Hyojong. He never told you, but he approached you the next day on his knees.

“I hate myself for hurting you.”

The guilt was probably tearing him apart. You sigh, though the distance between the two of you is broad right now, you know what you need to do. You pop the door open and step out before peering your head into the car. “I’m gonna go inside, you better come in and stop me before I clean your entire house for you.” You shove the door shut.

Johnny watches as you enter his house, flinching at the smell but still closing yourself inside. There’s no way you could stand that smell for very long. You’d probably end up tossing your lunch, but he believes you’d stick it out. Stubbornness was another trait you re-developed, not that it doesn’t warm his heart. He leaves the car, slowly trudging to his front door. He dwelled on every pebble he felt beneath his soles. Fixing his car window put a hole in his pocket, and his poor broken air conditioner was a problem. Not to mention the flowers he spent months caring for. He wraps his hand around the doorknob.

All of those seemed like child’s play compared to the rot. Rotting food so far gone it was a pile of black goop with dozens of insects ravaging it. He opens the door to his empty house. You were elsewhere, he could hear you rustling through a cabinet in the distance. He walks straight to the corner of his living room where the main source of the stench was. That pile of black goo that he found himself staring at while his friends sat around, stewing in the foul atmosphere. Laughing, playing video games, trading nudes without consent. Johnny kneels down, the odor strong in his nostrils. You plod down the stairs with a bucket of soapy water clutched in your gloved hands and a mask.

With watery eyes you watch Johnny stare at the rotten food infested by pests. You approach him and kneel beside him despite the smell. You wish he would tell you what Hyojong did that day. For now, you push the bucket his way and hand him the sponge. He lingers on the sludge as a pool of tears perch on his bottom lid. He lets the tears drop as he glances over, taking the sponge.

You work on different sides of the house, cleansing it of its neglect. Spraying and scrubbing the couch where he and his friends sunk into for hours on end, tidying up the cords and controllers for his console, and cleaning that horrifying fridge. When it was all done, you focused on getting rid of the lingering smell, spraying air freshener and opening every window. Hopefully the bugs will leave with it. You plop down on a bar stool admiring that you managed to kind of return the favor. You notice Johnny hasn’t sat down, and he’s staring at a different spot now. You follow his eye line to the wall. The toothpick did more of a number on your toe, but there was a small dent, and on the floor were splotches of dried blood.

You look back up at him worriedly. That was the moment everything fell apart. You were no longer hurting each other, but also no longer in each other’s lives. Reflecting on living with him, you couldn’t imagine going back to that again. Neither could Johnny, but it’s what needed to happen. All this pain and sorrow for some popularity? For some lousy friends? Even after all he’s put you through, you’re here and they’re nowhere to be found.

“I’m sorry.” You can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s about to break down and you rush over to him. “I’m so sorry.” He sobs. You pull him into a hug, the first hug you’ve given him in years. He eagerly hugs you back, his large body encompassing you, squeezing you. You squeeze him back, both of you hiccuping and sniffling into each other’s ears. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“I forgive you.” You pull away to caress his face, surveying it as you wipe his tears away. You shake your head as your cheeks fill with streaks of tears. “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

“I don’t believe you.” Johnny responds despondently. You clench your eyes shut. For a while, you didn’t believe yourself either, constantly doubting yourself as he remained within your walls. Maybe you didn't forgive him at first. What he did was inexcusable, but seeing how much pain he’s in helps you understand.

“It was a defense mechanism, but you’re okay now.” You press your forehead against his and both of you shut your eyes now. “You’re safe.” You pet his hair until his breathing calms and his arms stop trembling.

Chaeyoung raises her glass in the air with a smug grin, preparing what she was gonna dedicate her toast to. “To girls’ night!” She shouts assuredly. Mark nervously raises his glass. “To… to girls’ night?”

“To girls’ night!” Jungwoo announces proudly. You, Naeun, Jisoo, and Johnny all raise your glasses and call out the dedication before drinks are clinked together. The night has barely started when you spot Chaeyoung making a move on a flustered but embarrassingly keen Mark. Johnny and Naeun are sitting at the bar talking, and you’re against the wall with Jisoo and Jungwoo.

“Why do we come to parties and clubs when we know it’s not our scene?” Jisoo inquires to herself. Jungwoo still replies. “Hey, introverts like to get drunk or laid sometimes too.”

“That is true…” You remark with a pointed look at Jungwoo. He rolls his eyes while Jisoo grimaces. “Gross.” She groans.

“No but seriously, I wanna go back to normal again.” You whine.

“I just think you need a little more time,” Jungwoo starts, hinting at your break up, “plus, I’m not comfortable with fucking while Johnny is in the other room.”

“I’m going to the bathroom.” Jisoo drones as she peels away. You wait until she’s out of earshot to continue. You really didn’t need two bouts of pity right now.

“That’s okay because he’s leaving soon.” You swirl your drink, looking at the vortex of liquid instead of Jungwoo’s face.

“Oh. His house is fine now?” He sounds a bit awkward, knowing this is a touchy subject.

“Yup.” You pop the ‘p’, trying to play off the way your mood is being dragged to the depths of hell right now. “Well then… things will really be back to normal, right?” Jungwoo tries, hoping he didn’t accidentally step on a landmine.

You’ll go back to having sex with Jungwoo while he’s in a loving, perfect relationship. Mark seems to be hitting it off with Chaeyoung, which is interesting, but he’s back to his bubbly self, now packaged with a potentially awesome girlfriend. And Johnny is laughing with Naeun while she hits his arm. Johnny is preoccupied and soon to be moving out, and with how he’s been speaking to you recently, possibly out of your life.

“Right. Back to normal.”

Mark and Chaeyoung barely made it out of the door with how rigorously they were making out, but they made it to the back of a taxi and were probably screwing each other’s brains out by now. Jisoo and Jungwoo left early after Jisoo got drunk as fast as she usually does, all cute and limp as Jungwoo carried her away on his back. That leaves you alone, standing against the wall as you watch Johnny and Naeun. They were barely drinking, caught up in whatever riveting conversation they were having.

You should stop being weird and go over there, join the conversation, but it feels wrong. They looked right. When Naeun leans in, you can’t help the despair that rackets through you. Her lips pressing to his made you tear your eyes away. You felt like your heart would break to pieces if you watched any longer. You stumble to the nearest restroom and splash water on your face.

You should be happy. Johnny got a beautiful woman he deserved without tearing anyone down in the process. If you’re not, it’s probably because of how sad and lonely you are. Soon Jungwoo will be back and this will get better. The kiss replays against your will and you experience a second round of that horrible feeling that nearly sends you to your knees. You’re still getting over Taeyong, that has to be it.

The door opens and shuts softly behind you, and you look at him through the mirror. He finally cut his hair and shaved his facial hair. He looks down at you with those dreamy eyes and smirks.

“Did you get a little confused?”

You flick the remaining water off your hands and turn to embrace him. He mumbles a soft ‘oh’ before hugging you back. “Or is it that you’re drunk?” You haven’t had more than a sip, but you don’t answer him, instead hugging him tighter.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

You continue to let him believe you’re drunk. You might as well be, with how delusional you’re being. Whatever the mysterious cause may be. He loads you in the passenger seat of his car and shuts the door. Naeun is trailing behind, their conversation is muffled by the door.

“One more time before we call it quits?” Naeun suggests. Johnny shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. Naeun was objectively breathtaking. Especially tonight with that dress and her hair perfectly styled. However, Johnny couldn’t change the facts. No matter how many times he laid in her bed or kissed her or had sex with her, he couldn’t force himself to be attracted to her. That would be easier right now, but his heart lies elsewhere. “Can’t. I’m sorry.”

He wants to tack on a ‘maybe next time’, but he holds off, perhaps with false hope. Either way, he’s driving away from the club without even dancing or getting drunk. He can’t be too upset, though. He peers over at you, you’re calmly looking out of the windshield.

“You’re not actually drunk, are you?’

“How could you tell.” You murmur.

“You’re not talking my head off.” You both chuckle softly.

“Johnny.”

“Hm?”

You purse your lips as you keep your gaze straight ahead. “Wanna have sex with me?”

Johnny stomps on the brake so hard it throws both of you forward. The car behind you spams their horn before driving around you while shouting obscenities. Johnny’s shoulders are up by his ears and your arms are spread out to brace yourself.

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” Johnny asks after clearing his throat.

“We’re both adults, it doesn’t have to be a big thing.” You shrug. “We’re best friends!” He shouts back.

“Please.” You cringe after you say it but it’s already done. The silence is killing you so you shut your eyes.

Johnny drives on, unable to untense his arms. He thought he was over getting turned on by you, but maybe his nightmares didn’t kill his sexual attraction to you completely. He can feel heat starting to pool down there. You weren’t drunk and you were asking him. In theory he should be jumping at the opportunity, but he lets out a long exhale instead.

“I can’t do that.”

You laugh bitterly, tilting your head to look out your door window. “A man refusing sex is as clear a sign as I’ve ever seen.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Johnny asks in genuine confusion.

“It makes sense that you’re dating Naeun.”

“Dating?” He takes a short moment to gawk at you before returning his eyes to the road. “Naeun and I aren’t dating. It’s like you said, we’re both adults. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Really?” You genuinely thought they were, you expected it to happen sooner or later. “She seems like your type.”

“Her?” He asks incredulously. “I’d be crazy to shoot that high.”

“I dunno, you’re handsome, tall, and you have the capacity to be sweet. You know, when you aren’t roasting me.” Johnny scoffs at your joke.

“Whatever.” Johnny winds down, suddenly remembering what you had just asked him. And that you just complimented him. “I’m a loser, though. I only preached about my high standards as an excuse to why I was single.” Guess it was time to start unveiling the true reasons behind his previous shitty actions. He presses his cool fingers to his cheeks.

“So you don’t like girls like Naeun and Nayeon?” You ask, as if a ‘yes I do’ won’t send you spiraling.

“I mean, it’s what people tell you to like. It feels like you’re supposed to.” Johnny ponders. “But if I actually think about it, their looks don’t affect me at all. It’s kind of… empty?”

You felt relieved, and then ashamed of that relief.

“Maybe you should think about that as well.” Johnny’s words make you look at him in confusion. “Every time you dress up you say something about if Naeun would wear it or think it’s weird.”

You take a moment to think about what he’s saying, jaw dropping open once you realize. You never noticed that you did that. Even today, every time she looked at you, you doubted your outfit choice. You straighten up in your seat and make an official goal post. You were going to wear a flashy outfit to TwitchCon. One that catered solely to your interests.

Chaekyung answers the door pretty fast. “Come in.” She urges. It was nice that she reached out to you this time. She seemed frantic over the phone and her actions now indicate that very little has changed on your ride over. Anything is better than before. You completely understand why she would be standoffish, though. Being ambushed with no one coming to your aid is a level of stress you unfortunately understand. Right now you’re effectively Taeyong, and if you’d treated him with the same caution she’s using, perhaps you’d be in a better place.

As you step into her living room you spot another figure on the couch. He has a short haircut, much shorter than the other men in your life. When he turns around you realize it’s someone you actually do know. YangYang.

He smiles nervously, standing up from the couch and approaching you, you take a step backward but he doesn’t get the memo. He pulls you into a hug. “Hey! It’s been a while.” Your arms strain under his tight grip, hands clenching into fists. You toss a questioning look at Chaekyung, giving her the benefit of the doubt. She ducks away from your stare, clearly harboring a guilty conscience.

“He wanted to talk to you.” She blurts out, still avoiding your eyes.

“That’s true.” He finally pulls away and you instantly put distance between the two of you. “What do you want?” You blink, disoriented from how sudden this all was.

“You’re the talk of the town recently! I mean you’re in the Dreamies and have your own popular group. Not to mention how everyone loves you, and I hear you’ve got Taeyong on a leash-” You cut him off, understanding perfectly now, “You want me to boost your image.”

“I mean, it could be more of an ‘I scratch your back you scratch mine’ type of thing, but essentially yes.” YangYang’s attempt at a cordial tone is nauseating at best and tonedeaf at worst. He was so close to putting you in that group chat.

“Absolutely not-”

“You already threw Lucas under the bus but I’ve still got a chance. Unless you’re planning to do that for me too, which I don’t think is entirely logical.” YangYang looks up at Chaekyung who starts vigorously nodding her head. “You saw what happened to Chaekyung here,”

He only lets you think for a short moment before he speaks again. “For you to suddenly ice me out after knowing you for so long… I mean, you did the same thing to Johnny but you clearly regret it.”

“I don’t regret it.” You respond immediately. “He needed to understand how much he hurt me, and he does now. What’s clear is that you still don’t.” You wonder if he still sees the situation as innocent fun you ruined with your bitching.

YangYang recovers quickly from your jab, most likely not absorbing it at all. “Is proving your point worth potentially ruining the reputation you worked so hard for?”

You were bigger than Chaekyung, but she was always seen as a darling on the platform. Minded her own business and was championed as the ideal girlfriend. And just like that, her social media is a ghost town overrun by gun wielding thieves itching to deliver that final blow to do her in for good. Still.

Maybe with your increased size it won’t happen to that extent, but even half of what she received was a bit stressful to imagine. Instead of one Lucas, YangYang, Doyoung, and the old Johnny, there’d be hundreds. With your scope, probably thousands. You do want to help Chaekyung, seeing her so helpless feels horrible, but a part of you did reach out to prove to yourself you could handle situations like this. That they could be fixed. Inviting her into the group would offer her new support. Or it could introduced a fuck ton of hate to everyone involved.

“Just think about it and get back to me. Here’s my number.” YangYang hands you a sliver of paper and you peer leerily at it. Just take it and get it over with. Don’t cause any trouble, you told yourself. But your stomach churned, screaming at you not to do it. Because you didn’t want to. If Johnny were here, he’d just tell you to act on that, but you were stricken with the anxiety of the outcome. Your eyes slowly pan back up to YangYang’s face. As he smirks at you, you remember Chaeyoung’s words. Imagine him making that same smirk as he snapped pictures of her and spread it around behind her back.

“No.” You state and shake your head, giving him a stern look before walking away. He and Chaekyung yell after you, just like the time you stormed out of Johnny’s house. Back then you felt so weak and small, shrinking with each step. Here, you felt much, much stronger. A smile even had the gall to stretch onto your lips as you pushed Chaekyung’s door open.

As soon as the door shut, the feeling that you made a mistake picked at you.

Should I have done that?

Did I just ruin everything?

Why did I do that?

But what were you gonna do, turn back? Apologize? Moreover, why are you glossing over how hilarious that was? The look on YangYang’s face when you rejected his offer. No, his pressure. Who did he think he was? He was so confident you’d just concede. If anyone should be the one reconsidering their actions, it’s him. You laugh heartily, definitely looking insane as you make your way to the bus stop.

You did it because you wanted to. And oh, how you’ve wanted to do that. Embarrass them like they embarrassed you, make them feel stupid.

When you get back, you feel immediately inspired to try out some looks. Johnny sits on the bed as you hold different outfits in front of your body.

“Hm, I like that skirt.” Johnny comments before making a contemplative hum. “Not the shirt?”

“No, maybe something different.” You rummage through your closet, you’d be hard pressed to find another red shirt that matched this. You pull out a long sleeved one with an apprehensive noise. “This is the only other shirt I have that matches.”

“Put 'em together.” He encourages before spreading his feet farther apart and leaning forward. You wince as you hold it to your torso. The droopy sleeves and the way it tied in the front seemed a bit much, but with the skirt and shirt together it gave a bit of a 70’s vibe. You gasp and rummage through your closet again until you find a pair of gogo boots. “Turn around!” You say excitedly, ripping your clothes off before he can even fully turn away. You admire the outfit in the mirror for a second before Johnny asks if he can turn back around.

“Okay, turn back around.” You twist your hips and lift your shoes as you fully examine the combination. “I… think you’re a visionary.” He comments dreamily.

High off of Johnny’s praise you invite him with you to the grocery store, already starting your exit before he even answers. “Just one moment. Stay just like that.” You turn halfway, startled when you hear a click. “Did you just take a picture?”

Johnny lowers his phone to give a sheepish smile before he nods. “What’re you gonna do with it?”

This time Johnny just shrugs, not having a believable excuse available. You give him a leery look before refocusing on your current objective.

“Round two.” You whisper as you walk hand in hand through the gliding doors. The doubt surfaces as soon as you’re in the presence of other people, any of them could peer at you and cast judgment at any moment. Johnny senses you faltering and squeezes your hand. It’s enough to ground you and keep you pushing. Eggs and milk. You need eggs and milk.

For the most part, it’s fine. Yes, people’s eyes are lingering on you, even turning their head to maintain their stare. But it could be worse. That thought eases your fears a bit. If this is it, people just giving you weird looks, you don’t know what you were so afraid of. You must’ve expected them to gather in a crowd and boo you out of the store.

Maybe gogo boots with a slightly 70’s inspired outfit was a bit out of the norm for grocery shopping, but you felt in your element. It felt like you were finally truly you. Walking through each aisle sparks an idea in your mind. It was definitely out of your comfort zone for now, but you can picture a good photo with the store as the backdrop.

As you reach the dairy section you hear giggling. You and Johnny both look in that direction, seeing a group of teenagers near the middle of the aisle. The two girls seem focused on their phones while the two boys are deciding on yogurt. They’re not looking at you, you tell yourself, but you still let go of Johnny’s hand to tug your skirt lower.

More of them start laughing and in your newly jittery state you glance over again. Now all of them are looking at one of the girls’ phone. This scene is all too familiar to you, like watching a nightmare unfold in real life. You’re about to convince yourself they’re laughing at a video or something, it’s not you, when they all look up from the phone at you. Smiles wide and mocking, contorting from your mind playing games. You tug at your skirt again and try to conceal as much skin as you can with the fabric at your disposal. You curse yourself for not bringing a jacket. There’s nothing you can do. You are exposed to their scrutiny whether you like it or not.

You make plans to hide behind Johnny or maybe just leave entirely. The hair was too much, you should’ve known that. Another notification buzzes in your purse like it has all day, making you scowl even further. You should’ve turned them off when you had the chance. Then another notification followed by another has you whipping your phone out to silence the disturbance. Your phone starts to go crazy, and you suspect another Tumblr picture has blown up. But looking at the screen you see they’re coming from Instagram of all places. You stopped posting frequently years ago so your notifications had slowed to almost a complete stop.

Opening the app you see that you’ve received a ton of new followers. Did someone shout out your Instagram not knowing it’s a wasteland? The first comment you see is a strange one.

‘you should post more pictures like the one Johnny posted!’

Other comments pouring in seem to all be mentioning him and some picture. You go to his profile and instantly spot the picture he took at your house. You blanch at the discovery, checking the comments against your better judgment. The constricting sensation on your heart ceases when your eyes scroll over each comment. You feel Johnny’s hand on your shoulder and tear your eyes away from the phone.

He was worried for a moment, but is content with the touched expression you have now. “You okay?” His smile fades just a little as his worry picks back up again. Instagram tells you he did this just now. Despite him not taking credit for your phone buzzing up a storm you can tell he’s satisfied.

The teenagers are still there in your peripheral, their dark clothes like an intrusive stain on your vision. Are you okay? Physically you’re perfectly fine, though your brain would like to convince you their eyes are setting your skin ablaze. Emotionally… you feel vulnerable. You glance over, meeting the eyes of one of the snickering teens. The effort to downplay your emotions is nonexistent. The voice in your brain speaks barely above a whisper because the truth is that it hurts. This sucks. You don’t like what they’re doing and it makes you feel bad.

“No,” You finally reply, peeking back at the comments again.

“Do you wanna go back home?” He asks, voice suddenly quiet to ensure they don't hear.

“No. I want…” A moment passes as you conduct your thoughts. “I– h-here.” You open your photo app and slip the phone in his hands before pushing him to the other end of the aisle. You walk backward until there’s enough space for a cart to push through. Johnny breaks from his confusion once he figures out what’s happening. He raises the phone eye level as you start posing. It’s awkward as all hell, and they’re really laughing now. You’re all over the place emotionally. Your mind is going a mile a minute with regretful thoughts and pleas to get out of here. But you’re not hurt, you’re not in pain, and you’re definitely not hurting anyone.

“Switch poses.” Johnny’s arms drop down for just a moment so you get a glimpse of his proud smile. You loosen up a bit, trying out a pose that requires a bit more confidence. With one more click, Johnny finishes taking photos and the teens have ventured elsewhere. You release a deep exhale at the sight of their absence. It feels like you had just sailed through turbulent seas during a thunderstorm, but you were fine. You did what you wanted to do and you weren’t struck down by some higher power monitoring any behavior outside the norm.

Johnny crosses over to your side to show you the pictures. “They look cool.” He comments as he swipes to the last one. The one where you were most confident, where your smile was at its most radiant. His heart skipping a beat sends a ripple through his body. “Can you send these to me?” He tries, a tiny bit anxious about if you’ll think his request is odd.

“To post?” You sheepishly look up at him and he glances away. “No, you just look really nice here.”

It was your heart’s turn to send your entire body into panic. For a moment you feared something was wrong but after it passed, you were left befuddled. The thought of someone keeping a photo of you, not because they’re in it or for some other practical reason, because you just look really nice has you suddenly smiling like an idiot.

“I’d love to.”

Was this too much? You groan and toss yet another outfit to the wayside. As you ogle all the clothing items laid out all over your bed and floor, a new question crosses your mind. Was this too little? It’s subjective, you’re aware, but this outfit has to push you out of your comfort zone for this to be a true test. You can claim you no longer care about what people think all day, but if you can’t wear a truly phenomenal outfit to this sausage fest, that will reveal the truth.

You didn’t invite Johnny to help because you need to be able to gather courage on your own. That one thought chained him to your mind as you continued your search. Oh Johnny, you thought as you reminisce on what he did. You stare at the beret in your hand, but you’re not staring at it at all. You’re looking past it as you imagine his little pleased smile. Or how proud he looked watching you pose. No, you just look really nice here.

Your eyes flutter closed, memories of him filling your stomach with such a pleasant sensation that you get lost in it. You eventually snap out of it, but during the entire process you think of different things he’s said and done.

Glancing in your closet, your Prada loafers stick out just a little from behind the door, as if to tempt you closer. You answer their call, sinking your feet into them and it feels like heaven. It almost justified the price. The rest of the outfit comes natural as pictures you’ve seen a ton of times on the internet flash behind your eyelids. This was definitely going to turn heads, you grimace slightly as you look in the mirror. You quickly note that the discomfort wasn’t from the gingham jacket or the beret. Definitely not the loafers. No, you felt great in this outfit.

Johnny felt like he was supposed to find Naeun pretty, but he keeps pictures of you in his phone. Your heartrate kicks up, generating a strange feeling so strong you’re rendered motionless.

“Oh, so when Johnny says it you believe him.” You shush Jungwoo, even placing your hands over his mouth to silence him but he just pulls them away and keeps talking. “What did I tell you? I was poetic as shit too.”

“Shut up!” You push him backward on the bed, grunting when he welcomes the change in position. “We’re literally naked and you’re running your mouth.” You swing your hips forward, shivering when your mound brushes against his member.

Instead of fucking you, like he should be doing, Jungwoo just looks at you like he’s suspicious of something. “What?!”

“Did you fuck him?”

You gasp and gear up to hit him but he’s already blocking your attempts. He’s speaking entirely too loud about someone who’s right in the living room. “I did not!”

“Good! Because I still don’t fully forgive him.” He grasps your wrists to stop your flimsy attacks, expression just a little more serious now.

“I know, Jisoo said the same thing.” You lament, not wanting to have this conversation. He doesn’t even know about the weird feelings you have when you think about Johnny.

The door opening startles both of you and you scramble to get up. Jungwoo wraps the comforter around you defensively and you would roll your eyes if Johnny wasn’t standing at your door. He looked frazzled which shooed all playfulness from your body.

“I-I’m sorry for barging in, but I think Taeyong did something. All my socials are blowing up with outrage.”

“What?” You scurry off the bed to hurriedly clothe yourself, rushing to Johnny as you bounce into your pants. “How do you know it was him?”

“It’s similar to what happened to Lucas. He threatened him and then all these random people started making allegations.”

You slip the phone from his hands and examine the screen. You and Johnny were both trending in your country. You click Johnny’s name and see exactly what he’s talking about. Anonymous accounts, other than one account from Nayeon, claiming Johnny is an asshole behind the scenes. Those weren’t damning by themselves, the news that he helped take down the group chat would defend him against that. It was the clips people found that did him in.

They were from back when he was still trying to impress the wrong people. Most of them depict him throwing jabs your way, insulting everything from your voice to your appearance. One of the clips play out loud before you could stop it.

“Do I like ___? Don’t be stupid.” Johnny snickers as the chat fills with amusement, egging him on. You wince, but it’s not like it’s anything you haven’t heard before. Still, after enduring what was essentially a prolonged rejection, that clip put everything in perspective. Seeing the clip affecting you, Johnny carefully takes the phone back.

“I just wanted to warn you so you could check your own name, make sure he didn’t get you too. Whenever you were prepared.”

To look through a bunch of hate or to grapple with you suddenly worrying if Johnny will reject you, whatever that means. You pull out your phone and check your name this time. You go still, mouth parting in shock. Just like your Tumblr, just like the comments under Johnny’s picture of you, all you see is overwhelming support. And pity, but more importantly, hatred for Johnny. The three stooges even caught fire with their clips resurfacing too. Even Taeyong for being caught laughing in some of them. But Johnny is public enemy number one.

He did say these things, and if it were aimed at anyone else you’d be calling for accountability, but you can’t help feeling bad. You lower your phone, hesitating before finally looking at Johnny. He looks worried, but you can tell it’s directed at you.

“Is everything okay?” He steps forward, placing his hands on your arms. “Yeah, did he get you too?” Jungwoo asks, who’s been silently attentive this entire time. You just shake your head. It didn’t make any sense. What, did he think you suffered enough, or was he harming you through Johnny?

“We can do something to help you. Come up with a plan. I’m sure Chaeyoung and Naeun will put in a good word for you.” Your eyes widen as a lightbulb turns on. “Naeun still hasn’t said anything about the situation. Maybe she-”

Johnny shakes his head, moving his hands to your shoulders as your voice dies away. He’s quiet for long enough that your adrenaline is winding back down and letting your worry peek through. “No, we can’t do that.” He knows very well Naeun wants nothing to do with any of this. It was about time for him to bite the bullet.

“Then what should we do?” You’re stumped, you don’t know what his next move will be. It will be extremely hard to come back from this. You’d be surprised if he wasn’t chased off the internet entirely.

He notes your tentativeness, so he opts to be vague and just ease you for now. “I have a plan.” He offers carefully.

“Well, okay. What is it?” You’re suddenly hopeful, and realizing his method wasn’t working, he sighs disappointedly. If he tells you, you’re gonna talk him out of it and stress for the rest of the night.

“I have to do it on my own.” Your hopefulness fades but you ultimately accept this answer, nodding and letting Johnny leave with no further explanation. You tried wrangling the unease in your gut but it kept festering. He was trying to avoid alarming you, you could see it from a mile away. That night you wanted to turn to him and ask what he was hiding. You ended up drifting to sleep and waking up to him not being there.

For a small, delusional moment you wondered if he had packed up and left while you were sleeping. You push your legs off the bed and stare down at the mattress. Drifting off into space, you let your phone ring one, two, three, four times before breaking free and picking it up.

“Hello.”

Jisoo says your name with concern heavy in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Johnny posted a statement. He came clean.”

Your heart constricts, you freeze completely in trepidation. You lower your phone to check Johnny’s account. You felt like you were going through each stage of grief with each swipe and tap. “Johnny… what did you do?”

Pinned to his account is a link with a short message attached.

‘This is long overdue’

You inhale sharply, apprehensive of what you’re about to see. He starts the message acknowledging all the criticism he’s garnered since the day prior. He apologizes to all your fans from Taeyong’s group, the Dreamies, and your new group.

‘Those clips were not only distressing to ___, but to anyone who’s endured something similar, and I know how hard it must’ve been to hear those things I said. Unfortunately, that’s not even the full scope of what I’ve put ___ through.’

You cover your mouth with your hand as realization hits you like a brick wall. You skim through the statement with jittery eyes, unable to read through the entire thing. It was hard, knowing that each word was another nail in his coffin.

‘I destroyed her confidence, making it harder for her to express herself or meet new people. I was comfortable doing it knowing it would be hard for her to leave because we meant so much to each other. All she did was trust, love, and stick by me and I spat in her face. I did it all to gain internet points and respect from people who don’t deserve respect themselves, and in doing so I encouraged behavior that would go on to hurt and strike fear into so many women. Each bigoted remark I made influenced hatred that would negatively affect many lives.’

You clumsily find footing on the floor before starting your search for Johnny. Your eyes are still glued to the phone as your eyes retrace every word. This is what you wanted, right? After all those years of endless torment, it has been revealed to the world. Now you can finally heal. Your other hand joins in grasping the phone as you skim further

‘I want to apologize one more time to all her fans or any viewers that happen upon one of her streams. If it weren’t for me you’d be seeing her at her best. She’s still amazing, but I’m afraid that she’ll never truly return to how she once was. I want to apologize to all the victims who got their pictures spread by people I enabled. If I had just pushed back even a little bit, they wouldn’t have been so comfortable doing something so cruel.

And lastly, I want to apologize to the person I hurt more than anyone else. I’m sorry, ___, for being the only one who could hurt you like I did and being just heartless enough to go through with it. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Even when I was saying those vile things, your presence filled me with comfort and content. Just seeing you could dissuade anything bad I was feeling. And I took advantage of that while not doing right by you. I’m still doing it. So I’m gonna do right by everyone and end my streaming career here. It’s not fair to all of you that I took part in all this misfortune and even benefited and profited from it. I can’t be truly sorry for what I did without removing my ability to benefit from those I hurt.’

You pick your head up slowly until you’re making eye contact with Johnny. He smiles from the couch as if nothing’s wrong. You make your way, maintaining eye contact. He stands as you reach your desired proximity. You have so much to say to him. So much scolding to do and yet so much consoling as well. But as you open your mouth, no words are formed. No sentences constructed. Just a quiver of your lip, furrow of your brow, and an ache behind your eyes.

You fight away tears for as long as you can but they win like they always do. Years of holding back your urge to break down completely and sob in agony have gotten the best of you. But now you have your best friend back. You finally have him back and you’re not ready to lose him.

Noting your struggle to speak and incoming tears he engulfs you in a tight hug. You happily reciprocate, clenching the back of his shirt as you succumb to your tears. “I’m sorry, I knew that would make you upset.”

You whisper your forgiveness, not just for him posting that but for everything. The truth was that even though you didn’t forgive him immediately, you just wanted him around in spite of it all. While you’ll never forget what happened and how you got here, you know now that he has finally scrubbed the rot from his brain. He’s free to live with the acceptance of his wrongdoings, and you’ve never felt freer yourself.

“And don’t make a post defending me or anything.” He warns playfully. You nuzzle further into his chest. Despite him pretending there’s nothing wrong, there’s something hanging in the air you both want to address. “You’re not coming with me?” You ask in a wispy voice, tears staining his hoodie as he rocks you back and forth. You had been planning both your appearances at TwitchCon for so long. You missed the last one and this would be your first time going as a featured creator. Did he know the whole time that he wasn’t going?

Johnny sighs, drawing circles into your back. “I don’t think they’ll want me there anyway.”

You’re not sure if his statement would make everything worse or better. He admitted the bad things he’s done, but enough sincerity could make a community turn around. But he already quit and there was no guarantee the convention will be very welcoming to him. It would crush you to see people ridicule him in person. So you just hug him tighter.

TwitchCon wasn’t what was actually at the forefront of your mind. That was just meant to be the last thing the two of you did together before he moved out. Moving out was one thing, but he couldn’t be planning to distance himself after all of this, right? You pick your head up to look at him and he notices the fear in your eyes and puts the pieces together.

“I’ll drop you off and pick you back up, okay?” He brushes your hair out of your face before cupping your cheek. That wasn’t what you were worried about. You could feel a stitch in your side. “Okay.”

He parks the car before letting the silence truly set over the two of you. You play with your tennis skirt, feeling hyper aware of every different texture against your skin and what parts of it were showing.

“You’re gonna be great today. I’ll be watching your panel on my phone.” He grins proudly. You flash him a pitiful smile. God, how you wish he could actually be there. “Have fun.” He signals for you to leave, but that’ll be one more moment of interaction over. You weren’t sure how many you had left. You reach for his hand and he squeezes yours immediately. “What’s holding you up?”

You look at the time with dread. “Nothing.” You slowly pull on the handle and step out onto the concrete of the parking lot. The sound of your feet against the ground is the only thing piercing through your clouded mind.

“Hold on.” Johnny says, stumbling slightly as he steps out of his car. You whip around, hoping he’d changed his mind. You spot his phone in his hand and you scramble to get your purse over your head and on your shoulder. You get into a pose and he smiles again. Everything you do, it’s like you can feel his support, he doesn’t have to say a thing. Right after the camera is lowered, your anxiety peaks again. He approaches you with the screen facing your way, displaying one of the pictures he took. You look at the picture and then at him in confusion. He points at the picture.

“You see her? Because I see someone confident in what she’s wearing.” He smirks.

“Well I see someone feigning confidence so the picture looks nice.” You correct with your own brand of pessimistic smugness.

“Every time I’ve taken a picture of you, your smile is the most genuine I’ve ever seen it.” He peers at the picture fondly before looking back up at you. “I feel like that confident girl is in there somewhere. She peeked out her head in the grocery store.” His frame curls over you until your faces are dangerously close. Something must’ve happened, something completely unheard of, because you get the urge to kiss him suddenly. The urge is strong and leaves your body humming and chest tightening.

“I believe in you.” He pats your shoulder before squeezing it. He walks back to his car and you finally enter the building. Greeting fans and making your way through each room feels like a flurry of moments you never fully focus on. A hazy thought in the back of your mind makes you aware of Jaehyun’s absence, you numbly wonder if it’s because of the clips. You feel as though you're on the outside watching yourself as you venture through, meeting up with Chaeyoung and the rest of your group.

Chaeyoung leads all of you to some room secluded from the busyness of the convention. You’re surprised to see Naeun already sitting in one of the chairs. “Naeun? Hi! What’re you doing here?”

Her smile crinkles her eyes. “What, I can’t support my girls?” She argues, clutching something in her hands. She looks hesitant as she stands from her chair before revealing her creator pass. All the girls gasp. “Also, this.”

“Oh my god?” Chaeyoung walks up to her before hugging her. You and everyone else follows suit, surrounding her with your mass of bodies.

“You’re streaming again?!” Dahyun asks excitedly. Naeun makes a strained noise before confirming. “I can’t believe it!” Jinsol muses.

“We’re happy you’re back.” You add before everyone peels back one by one with wide smiles. She smiles at everyone before her eyes land on you. She rubs your arm before giving a pointed look. “You ready?”

You want to say you’re not and curl into a tiny ball, but you wipe the thought from existence. You don’t let your pessimism fester and stretch a wide grin on your face. “Yep! I’m ready!”

If you thought the main section of the convention was busy, the panel room was beyond packed and loud. There was no room to think, just constant noise muffling your ears. You and your members stand just off stage and await for your name to be called. Taeyong’s new group goes before you, and you wonder if that was done purposely to drum up drama and spawn juicier questions. Their panel concludes and he and Nayeon don’t spare you a glance. He technically didn’t break your deal, but you still couldn’t contain your anger for him. It took everything in you not to chase after him and confront him.

“Next up we have a few members of the Dreamies and Pansies!” The room fills with rapturous applause and cheers, making your ears ring as you step on stage. You wince, squinting at the bright lights aimed at you. You sit at the third seat down, glancing over at Mark before flashing a brief smile as he sits next to you. Naeun sits on your other side and you prepare to start, just like you agreed. Your throat goes dry as soon as you open your mouth. You furrow your brows as you try to focus your thoughts. Of course, just like every time your brain goes wild, you think of Johnny and remember he’s watching.

“If high school me knew she’d grow up and still have to do public speaking again she would’ve been pissed.” You chuckle awkwardly and the room fills with light laughter. You clear your throat. “Okay. Hi, I’m ___. I’m a member of both the Pansies and the Dreamies. We didn’t expect Naeun to be joining us today-” The crowd erupts once again, their cheering and whistling bringing a soft yet thoughtful smile to Naeun’s face. You peer at her as you wait for the cheering to die down again. She looks at you too and you return her smile. “But I think it was fitting being that we’re chatting about unity on Twitch.”

Each person takes turns introducing themselves before the crowd applauds again. “So, I think it goes without saying that unity is really needed right now. The community feels as though it’s gone through a shift after relatively recent events. I’ve seen and experienced first hand how scary it can be to have no one offer support in a time of need. To get dogpiled and ridiculed with everyone turning a blind eye and letting it happen. Sometimes we can’t stop bad things from happening, but that doesn’t mean we should sit by and do nothing.”

You continue following a rough guideline of what you practiced, but the passion took control and made things easier. Different members of the panel added their two cents. You were ready to add one more thing when the host announced it was time for questions. The time flew right by, and here you thought you’d be stumped and the conversation wouldn’t flow. Everyone seems to be just as passionate.

Various people raised their hands for a question. It started with questions for Chaeyoung, then Naeun who of course had nearly the entire room raising their hand. Then you, and to your surprise, there were just as many hands. You were just about to get excited when you realized it was probably because of Johnny’s controversy. You scan the room before pointing to someone near the middle. “You in the black turtleneck.” You purse your lips as they’re handed a microphone. He looks like he was already amused by his question. “Where did you come up with the name Panies?” He speaks, and an involuntary smile spreads across your face.

“There are like thirty different associations for each flower, but I don’t know, pansies have always meant a lot to me.”

“Some say they symbolize nostalgia or remembrance, but my favorite interpretation is that of love. It’s generic, but it’s not just romantic love. It can be platonic too, and I thought that was nice.”

Then it’s Mark’s turn. After him is Haechan, then Jeno. It circles around to you and restarts one more time. Before long it’s back to you, and you’re high off the pleasant and light atmosphere. Everyone seems to be having fun, and maybe you’re imagining it, but the audience seems to care for your cause as well. “You in the purple shirt and jean jacket.” You point.

“The topic is unity, and you worked hard to get that group chat taken down,” applause interrupts her and you smile shyly. “But why have you been so silent about… everything. Literally everyone else has talked about it now except you and Naeun. Naeun was taking a break from social media, so that makes sense. But you…?” She waits for you to fill the blanks in a seemingly courteous move. Unfortunately, her trailing off only makes the uncomfortable silence that falls over the room more apparent.

You had let the dilemma of your statement fall to the depths of your mind. People weren’t really talking to you about it or telling you to do it anymore. But even now you were still feeling hesitant. You peer out into the sea of people staring at you, awaiting your response so they could react or judge accordingly. Maybe you’ll be the first panel to be booed off stage. Only one way to find out.

“If she doesn’t want to speak about it, she doesn’t have to-”

“I was propositioned by YangYang twice.” You start, stopping Mark in his tracks. Everyone on the panel looks at you in shock. It’s dawning on you that Mark and Chaeyoung are the only people who know. Everyone else just thought your statement would be about condemning the people you used to hang out with all the time, or expressing generic sympathy. “I was lucky enough to have someone in my life to stop me from making a mistake. They recognized I wasn’t in a sound state, and YangYang wanted to take advantage of that. I know not many girls are coming out against any of the people involved, but I think it’s important to listen to the people that are.” The crowd is quiet and you can’t tell if it’s because they’re listening or because they’ve been put off. You think that if you stop for too long you’ll lose the confidence to continue, but you think harder. The crowd could pull out hidden tomatoes and start lobbing them at you but you’re not sure you’d stop.

“Listen, I just wanted to do something I found fun with people I cared about. I’m not here to nag you, but even the thought of my body being posted and spread around to people feels fucking horrible. Despite this, the thing I was most afraid of was the backlash I’d receive if I said anything. And I don’t think that’s right, no, it just isn’t right. I spoke to YangYang, and he was more at ease than I was. I’m sorry to all the victim’s who’s statements were deemed even a smidge less credible due to my silence, because there’s nothing I should be afraid of.”

The silence that overtakes the room is almost deadly, but you only notice the overwhelming relief you feel. You’ve been harboring these emotions under high security but now they’re finally free. In the midst of your euphoria, a few people start to clap until applause ripples across the entire room. There were no hoots or hollers, but a few people stood to amplify the feeling of silent respect. Mark stands up, pulling you up by your arm and using that same arm to tug you into a hug. After you pull away, Naeun is waiting for you. She gives you another hug, and it’s not very long until you’ve hugged everyone on the panel.

It went exceedingly better than you thought it would. All that worrying seems silly now that your heart is filled to the brim with joy. It’s that type of joy that keeps you brimming for hours. The type of joy you want to share with somebody. Maybe you’re greedy, but even with all these things working in your favor, you’re still interested in something more. As you walk through the lengthy corridor, your happiness slowly fades to make way for a deep yearning. Something so carnal it shuts off your critical thinking.

The need grows as you approach Johnny’s car, realizing he stayed here the entire time. As you open the door and sit in the passenger seat you ignore his praise and questions. There was something ever present on your mind since he dropped you off that you needed to take care of before you could answer his puzzled calls of your name. You lean over the console and grab his face before mashing his lips against yours. You feel his face get hot and it’d be comical if your body wasn’t raising in temperature as well. The electricity was flowing stronger than it ever had, pricking at your skin and raising the hair on your arms.

Johnny pulls away briefly to readjust and make for a less of a blur of lips. It’s not much better with how hungry the two of you are for each other. Especially for Johnny, who’s anticipation for this moment was years in the making. You feel your ears burn as you push your tongue past his lips to let them flip and curl against each other. Dangerously, arousal quickly takes root and it’s evident by the way your hands start to roam.

A hand slides between your breasts before curling around your throat. You gasp lightly, parting ways to unload a heated gaze onto each other. The heat slowly dissipates from both of you until you’re fully seated again. Johnny silently starts the car.

You barely make it through the door let alone get your shoes or jackets off. A trail of clothes is haphazardly left behind until Johnny is hoisting you onto your bed with your skirt not fully removed yet. He finishes the job before pushing you back until you sink into your comforter, looking up at him with lust soaked eyes.

He isn’t completely sure if it was what you were silently requesting, but he makes the move anyway, wrapping his large hand around your throat again. Your lips part further and your eyes flutter shut. Never had he felt intoxication to the extent he felt now. He felt like he’d vibrate right off the bed. He captures your lips again as his other hand moves up to cup your right breast. He kneads it first, loosening his hand around your throat to hear the full extent of your noises. Even the breathy sighs and gasps you're making now fill his lungs with a blazing fire.

He goes from kneading to squeezing to pinching, paying attention to what earns him the sweetest noise. He felt like a teenager again, when he’d lie stiff in bed imagining what you’d sound like when he touched certain places. A sharp inhale when he sucked at the right spot on your neck followed by a strong shudder. The first moan, albeit soft, when he flicked your nipple with his tongue. A long hiss when he nipped at it or blew cold air to make it fully perk up. He could spend all day learning what makes you tick until you’re screaming for the real thing. He thinks he just might, but he’s reminded of the unlikeliness of that with a throb of his cock. Johnny needs you, he needs you right now. But if he fucks you too soon he knows he’ll cum embarrassingly fast.

Johnny’s kisses make obscene wet noises as his lips travel down your torso. You whimper and hide your face against your shoulder. You never felt this sensitive with Jungwoo. A rush thrums up your legs when you realize where his mouth is going. It’s still wet and making noises even more obscene as he goes straight for tonguing your slit. Your lips aren’t even spread and he can still tell how wet you are. The thought thrills him so much it brings out an involuntary moan. He spreads you open with two fingers before flicking his tongue against your exposed clit. Your legs twitch and the crazed bastard unfortunately notices. He continues his efforts until your poor legs are twitchy messes and your stomach is whooshing from the raw friction.

His name on your lips is a broken, squeaky mess but it eggs him on nonetheless. A finger in your clenching hole forces a shattered cry out of you. You reach down in a blind search for his hair before tugging the strands between your fingers. Your own hips betray you, stuttering toward his face to bring about an even stronger sensation. Your squeaks build until they’re a string of loud, cut-off moans that make him hum into your cunt. You shudder again with a surprised giggle at how violent the feeling is. You feel like you’re shoved over the edge, hips bucking wildly against his face as you cum around his finger. One finger, you think with another disbelieving laugh.

He was experiencing his own high from making his over decade long crush cum like that. He kisses you with your essence still on his chin, smearing onto yours. You pull him back with both hands, a ravenous look in your eyes.

“You better not fucking leave.” You mutter breathlessly. The thing keeping him from staying seemed to no longer be an issue. “You don’t even have to worry about that.”

You go to devour him again but he only accepts it for a few seconds before flipping you over. He hoists you on your hands and knees before positioning himself behind you. He slaps his rock hard cock against your clit and makes your knees buckle, but his other arm is still holding you in place. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I don’t either.” You reply impatiently. Explaining that you and Jungwoo used them up would take much too long. “I’m on the pill and clean. Please stuff me full already.”

Your words deliver a blow to his chest and nearly make him pass out, but he comes back to his senses to line himself up and finally treat his throbbing cock. You sigh as he pushes through, but he makes a strangled grunt. Passing each ridge of your cunt is him succumbing to the chokehold further and further. The pleasure is red hot, pulsing in his joints and almost causing him to collapse on top of you. His hand leaves the few inches of his shaft still exposed in favor of one of your breasts, making you clench around him.

Johnny curses under his breath. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to hold back.”

“It’s okay, I can handle it.”

“Yeah?” He throws his hips forward experimentally and earns an especially loud moan. He keeps your hips steady with his other hand as his hips push flush against yours. You haven’t fucked many people, but Johnny had to be objectively scarily long. You thought Jungwoo was, but you can feel this man in your navel. “You sure you can handle it?”

His words acted as a warning but his hands were caressing your body so softly. His hand dipped down your stomach and lifted back again to give a tender squeeze to your breast. His actions drive him even madder, especially when he digs his fingers into your thighs, biting his lip. He just couldn’t get enough of your soft skin under his fingers. Touching places he only dreamed about and convinced himself he’d never get to touch.

Johnny was starting to appreciate that he wasn’t using a condom when he thought about really filling you up. Even if a romantic relationship doesn’t somehow come from this, he thinks he may be fine stuffing you full of cock and cum until your bodies physically can’t take it anymore. Just being with you or in you was enough.

“I love you.” He lowers against your back, breath tickling against your ear as he flicks his hips. You tremble, ass squishing against his pelvis with each knock of his hips. You’ve felt so loved throughout this journey with him, but you crave something more. “I know, I love you too.”

“No,” He starts softly next to your ear, “I really love you, ___.”

Your heart throbbing is so jarring you gasp. Johnny slips from the gaping tunnel he made inside you to let you turn and look at him. Your eyes flicker between his, searching for the information you need before you even ask. “You mean it?”

“Of course.” He chuckles, brushing his thumb over your lips and then your cheek. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I ever saw you. Even when I didn’t want to admit it.” He plants a tender kiss on your lips, the first coherent one you ever shared. Clearly communicating your evolved love for one another.

You reach for the tip of his member, never breaking the kiss, and line him up again. He groans from the feeling of your warm hand around him before biting your lip when he feels your wet hole again. You help him sink in by raising your hips and it feels different than the first time. Like you were experiencing your old friend like you never had before. You disconnect to drink each other in, gazing longingly at one another as he fully sheathes inside you. Your mouths hang open until noises finally break through. Desperate keens and whines fill each other’s ears as your faces fill each other’s eyes. As if you want to carve each other into your minds.

Your bodies are pressed together and you can feel the other’s heartbeat. His thrusts are shallow, keeping you full at all times as his tip kisses your cervix. You feel your neck flush, your entire body tingling as the pleasure builds, snowballing until aching whimpers are the only sounds emitting from your throat. “I’m close-”

Everything Johnny feels contributes to his incoming high and when he hears those words, it’s like time slows down. “I want you to cum around me so bad.” His thrusts get harsher, balls slapping against your asshole. Your head thrashes against your bed as wet heat fills your lower abdomen. “Johnny!” You gasp as your walls flutter around his cock.

Your face twists and contorts as you massage his dick, flooding it with your arousal as you cum. With a handful of your breast clenched in one of his hands, he cums soon after, slit spurting semen deep within you.

You’re both immediately rushing to embrace one another, not worrying about the mess, how sweaty you both are, nothing but wanting to stay as close as humanly possible.

//|\\

Epilogue;

The main thing the realtor kept stressing was the rich soil. “That paired with your spacious backyard will make for a breathtaking garden.”

You just wanted a pool. It turns out in-ground pools are a lot more expensive than you thought. No wonder only filthy rich people had them. But, you guess it was for the best. If you had gotten a pool, Johnny wouldn’t have been able to show you just how breathtaking a garden could be. You rest your fists on your hips with a huff.

“That bastard… that skilled bastard.” Jungwoo mimics your pose, shaking his head as he takes in the garden. You mentioned something about not wanting your backyard to look rustic or farm-like, and he clearly took note.

Various stone pathways wind through your backyard and are bordered by a colorful array of tulips, larkspurs, and lilies. A line of rocks keep clumsy feet from stomping his hard work. One path leads to an outdoor movie setup. You can already imagine inviting all your friends over for a movie night. Another leads to a seating area to read or eat. Lastly, the main path starting from your patio leads to a lush, vibrant flower bed that livens up the entire backyard.

Skilled was putting it lightly. “I knew he was good with his hands but…”

“You’re ruining this moment.” Jungwoo cuts his eyes at you.

“Why are you still here? Your services are no longer needed.” You turn to him once you realize. You just needed relief quickly and Johnny has been busy for obvious reasons. You were a little surprised when he suggested that.

“I still can’t believe he doesn’t care. I’m worried, did I fuck around and now I’m waiting for the subsequent finding out the kids are talking about?” Jungwoo turns and looks at you as if he’s figured it all out. That couldn’t be, he seemed so nonchalant about it. Part of you thinks it’s because he knows sex with him is much better. But why would you tell Jungwoo that?

“Yeah, I think you should go into hiding.” You reply sardonically.

“Oh my god.”

“Hey!” Johnny calls, propping the door open with his side as he lugs out a heavy can of paint. “I wasn’t done yet.” His expression falls to disappointment when he sees Jungwoo. “What’s he still doing here?”

“He fell for your trap, but he found out you were planning to kill him.” You turn toward the house where he had fully emerged and he drops the can with a loud impact. He looked devastatingly handsome, even a dash of paint on his face. “How am I gonna surprise attack him now?” He joins in on the joke instantly.

“I hate you guys.” Jungwoo deadpans when you both laugh. “I’m leaving, enjoy your murderous, talented boyfriend.” He passes a beaming Johnny and enters your house.

He makes his way over before grabbing both your hands. You raise on the tips of your toes to press a short, tender kiss to his lips. “How much do you usually charge for this sort of thing?”

“It’s on the house since this is my house as well.”

“That’s good to know.” Your cheeks nearly push your eyes close. You find your cheeks are hurting a lot these days. His smile drops for a moment when vulnerability peeks through.

“D’you like it?” He asks softly. Oh Johnny, you think. Never understanding just how much he impacts every aspect of my life.

You purse your lips, but there’s nothing you could do to dull your smile. Standing in your brand new backyard with your boyfriend felt like a proper start to a new chapter.

“I love it.”

taglist; @baehaechannie @maximumdreamchild @safariria @maliakealoha

#sorry for the naeun vs nayeon #and now chaeyoung vs chaekyung #I hope it isn't confusing #don't ask me how I feel about this #johnny #nct #nct 127 #smut #angst #fluff #johnny smut #jungwoo #taeyong #nct smut #nct 127 smut #cynics #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH #johnny angst #nct angst

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