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spookyserenades · 6 months

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Trouvaille - Chapter Twelve

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 16.6k

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Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi babes!! Welcome to the latest update (a crazy one!!) Lot's going on in this chapter, including a boatload of angst, a bit of fluff, some ~spice~, and lots of emotions. It is a pretty Yoongi-heavy chapter (nice) so for all my Yoongi stans-- this one is for you! I hope you all enjoy this update, and let me know what you think if you'd like, and I'm sending you all my love 💕

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Yoongi leaned against the grimy plaster that made up the back hallway of The Black Lodge, trying not to grimace as he felt the silky material of his button-down sticking to the years of smoke residue and alcohol fumes. The air was thick with wispy clouds of cigar and cigarette smoke, as it always was, and the strange, dark energy of the bar was still ever-present; but Yoongi wasn’t entirely focused on that, for once.

He could really use a cigarette, himself. Yoongi quit smoking around the time his mother passed away– no, don’t think about it. Using his pointed incisors, he bit down on his lower lip enough to draw blood, the piercing pain chasing any thoughts of his mother from his mind, a coping mechanism he’d picked up over the past year. Refusing to cut his hair, abstaining from composing, gnawing his lips into shreds; anything to distract, or perhaps to punish, to forget.

Time marched on, unfortunately. Mourning in an already mournful place was useless and made him feel like he was drowning in a pit of molten tar. Even clinging to hope, that one day he’d be able to manage breaking free and finding somewhere else to live, the hope grew dimmer by the day.

The frown on the leopard hybrid’s face deepened as the sound of someone retching in the men’s bathroom he was standing across from reached his sensitive ears. Sometimes, he wished he could stick pencils in the spotted appendages– he’d take normal, dim human hearing from his other set over some of the shit he had managed to overhear with hybrid ears during his nearly 28 years of life. Absently, he reached up to fiddle with one of the earrings dangling from his lobe– the silver, pointed shape of a feathered wing gliding between the pads of his forefinger and thumb.

His frown turned into the faintest ghost of a smile, that vicious and searing sensation of growing hope knocking the wind out of him as he caught the scent of jasmine– mingling with sharp botanicals, a saccharine underlying sweetness, and something uniquely human. He straightened up immediately, the door of the women’s bathroom creaking open and a great gust of that delicious scent smacking him square in the face.

“I-? I what?” Y/N squeaked, not only unable to recover from the tender kisses Yoongi had showered over her wrist and hand, but the words that had come out of his mouth immediately after he pulled away from her slightly. “Y-yoongi. We kissed? I asked you to kiss me?”

Yoongi was now rather quiet, slowly moving away from her and staring out his window, his face somewhat closed off now that he had revealed what Y/N knew he was leaving out of the whole story of their first meeting. His tail was curling around his own waist mindlessly, and Y/N was cold and reeling with the absence of his body heat that was once accelerating her heartbeat into a gallop.

It seemed that Yoongi was giving Y/N a few moments to process everything he confessed, a poorly-constructed imaginary wall in between them as she babbled nonsensically.

“I’m? I don’t even know what to say. I never get that drunk, enough to ask for a kiss from a total stranger,” Y/N blurted out something that actually made sense after a few moments of stuttering, however, the statement that left her lips had Yoongi hissing and a flash of hurt sparking up his feline hazel gaze. Abruptly, Y/N wished she could collect her words from the air and stuff them back into her mouth. “I’m so, so sorry, Yoongi… I shouldn’t have forced you into a corner like that.”

Yoongi was astonished, his tail beginning to flick back and forth so sharply Y/N knew that he was very agitated. Deciding to shut up before she offended the leopard hybrid any more than she clearly already had, Y/N began to approach Yoongi at snail’s pace to prevent him from flinching away.

“When did I say that you had forced me into a corner, Y/N? Are you serious right now?” Yoongi used her name for the first time in what felt like months, taking her off guard and making her swallow thickly. His voice was soft, but had a deadly edge to it, and the way his jaw was clenched had shivers rolling down her spine– Yoongi actually looked like the predatory leopard he was.

“I was just saying, um, like I feel bad that I threw myself at you like that,” Y/N wished she could rewind time and relive the tender moment they had right before the bombshell was dropped, but that tenderness seemed to be leagues out of her grasp.

“You did nothing of the sort. I told you, we talked for almost two hours. We were hardly strangers by the time I kissed you, by the way,” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at Y/N with a dangerous look in his eyes. It made Y/N want to back up and shrivel beneath his gaze, but she knew that Yoongi would never hurt her, so she stood her ground, albeit shakily. “I liked you, Y/N. I wanted to kiss you.”

“L-liked?” Y/N couldn’t help but emphasize the end of the word, the past tense, where Yoongi had implied that his affection for her had disappeared over the course of the year.

After all, she made him wait, got his hopes up, and was now implying herself that he was nothing but a drunken mistake. Heart plummeting into her stomach, she watched Yoongi’s nose twitch, likely picking up on her anxiety and rising stress levels, the stoniness of his features loosening up a tad. The air was charged, tense, and Y/N wasn’t sure who would cut it first, and where the complicated conversation was going.

“Y/N–” Yoongi took a step forward, his hand raised as if to place it on her cheek, before the sound of his bedroom door being blasted open cut him off with a surprised grunt, blood draining from his face.

“HEY, YOONGI. WHAT TIME IS DINNER?” Hoseok jogged into the room shouting, loud rap music coming out of the earpods he was wearing, his breathing labored.

The fox hybrid must have just come back from a run, and nothing on his face indicating he had a flying fucking clue what Y/N and Yoongi were talking about– he didn’t even seem to notice the tension swirling around the room, Y/N’s stricken expression, or the fact that she was just standing in the middle of Yoongi’s bedroom. Urgently, Yoongi put space between her and himself, dropping back into his composed attitude, like nothing had occurred at all.

Ambling forward calmly, Yoongi yanked one of Hoseok’s earpods out, Hoseok grinning at him cheekily and switching off the music on his phone. Still standing in the center of the room motionless, Y/N gawked at Yoongi’s flawless attempt to appear normal and nonchalant.

“Foxy, you trying to blow out your eardrums?” Yoongi grumbled, frowning deeply when Hoseok plopped down on the leopard hybrid’s bed. “Dude, you’re fucking soaked. Get off my bed.”

Hoseok did nothing of the sort, simply repeating his question about dinner, flicking his sweaty bangs off of his forehead with a smirk and leaning back on Yoongi’s cushy beige comforter smugly.

“I don’t know when dinner will be ready. I was going to make something carb-heavy because I have a game tomorrow night. There’s pasta dough in the fridge…” Yoongi began tying up his hair with a purple scrunchie Y/N had got for him at work, the sight of him both using it and the fact that he didn’t let her put up his hair for the first time in weeks, making her chest squeeze in pain. “Can you help roll out the pasta for the machine, Foxy? I think Y/N mentioned she wanted to shower before dinner, which honestly you should be doing instead of perspiring all over my bed.”

Y/N hadn’t mentioned taking a shower before dinner at all, and she didn’t know if Yoongi wanted space from her and didn’t want to come out and say it, but the lie stung nonetheless.

“Ah, I’ll shower before bed. Especially if I’m going to be covered in sweat and flour,” Hoseok heaved himself off of Yoongi’s bed, following Yoongi to the door and out into the hall.

Willing her legs to move, Y/N felt her throat grow thick, confused and left out in the cold. Swiftly, she made her way into her bedroom once she was confident Hoseok and Yoongi were in the kitchen, hastily getting right into the shower so she could put off a crying session. Having red eyes and a swollen face at dinner wasn’t appealing to her, and would attract way too many questions.

There was a lot for her to think about surrounding the state of her and Yoongi’s relationship now, but Y/N knew if she dwelled on it for too long, her attempt to keep tears at bay would be spoiled. She would give anything to pull the memory of her night at The Black Lodge with Yoongi out of the deep corners of her mind; to relive it, to understand her thought process and how her brain absorbed it. Her body felt weakened after the intensity of what she had learned, head pounding and legs like jelly, and she wasn’t sure if she could make it through dinner acting like everything was okay when she really just wanted to burrow into her bed for the next three weeks.

Y/N took her sweet time massaging her jasmine lotion into her skin, selecting a warm set of pajamas, and even tidying up some clutter around her room to make sure she was only in the kitchen long enough to choke down some food before she could pull her cozy quilt over her head and sleep away all of her confusing thoughts. It would be damn near impossible for her to get out of the nightly movie routine she had created with all of the boys, and it was her turn to pick out the movie that night as well, but perhaps she could act like she was too exhausted to stay up past dinner.

Taking Yoongi to his game the following day ought to be awkward. It wasn’t like they could exactly continue their conversation– the rest of the hybrids were going to tag along, so they could grab some dinner afterwards and have a nice Saturday night out on the town. In reality, she wasn’t sure she’d get more one-on-one time with Yoongi until their next piano lesson, if he kept dragging other hybrids into helping him with meals rather than her.

Slapping moisturizer onto her face, Y/N stared at herself in the old silver mirror hanging over her sink vanity, miraculously appearing pretty normal despite the pure bewilderment she was still experiencing. There was barely detectable puffiness around her lash lines, probably from the effort of holding back frustrated tears in the shower, and she was fairly positive no one would even notice– that is, unless Taehyung got close up to her face, which was always a frequent occurrence.

Hoseok 🦊: dinner’s ready, darling~~~

Y/N’s phone chimed, a message and photo coming in from Hoseok. He sent her a selfie, flour dusted across his nose, holding up a plate of fettuccine alfredo, with broccoli and chicken, from the looks of it. Immediately, she saved the picture and added it as his contact photo, loving the little grin on his face– it replaced the former incredibly attractive photo of him post-track meet sweaty and smirking at the camera. Brightening upon seeing Hoseok’s good-natured, radiant smile, Y/N felt a whole lot better about heading out into the kitchen. Whatever was going on between her and Yoongi would eventually be sorted out and addressed, but it wasn’t fair to the others for her to hole up in her room and ignore their nightly routines.

Exiting her room, she headed straight to Namjoon’s half-open door, the crackly sound of his Walkman playing an old Bob Dylan tape filling his cozy space. The room was filled with lamplight, and Namjoon even had a stick of amber incense going on his desk, and she felt immense comfort in even just hanging out in the threshold of his door. However, the wolf hybrid wasn’t in either of his usual spots– the wooden desk chair or the cushy window seat.

“Joonie?” Y/N called out softly, wondering if he had popped out to his van to retrieve a book or something.

In response to the sound of his nickname being called, the door to Namjoon’s bathroom creaked open, a mumbled ‘hold on’ coming from him gruffly. Y/N took it upon herself to enter his room further; ever since his birthday, Namjoon really didn’t have a problem with her in his space, and often invited her into his room when he wanted her opinion on something. Typically, it was over a Tarot card meaning or her thoughts on a passage in a book he was reading; Y/N thought it was really sweet of him, and besides– she loved talking to Namjoon, he was insightful and overwhelmingly intelligent.

Finally, the wolf hybrid emerged from his steamy bathroom, silvery hair towel-dried and ears similarly damp. It looked like he haphazardly threw on a wrinkly gray sleep shirt and sweatpants, Y/N realizing she must have caught him just out of the shower. The reality of that had her stomach flipping over, sheepishly cowering by his desk as he tossed his towel into the hamper and turned the volume down on his Walkman.

“Is that tape one of the ones you got from the music store last time?” Y/N tried not to snort at the reediness of Bob Dylan’s croon, Namjoon meeting her at his desk and stubbing out the burning stick of incense. “I thought you only saved the ones that weren’t grating,” Y/N recalled Namjoon’s comment from that day, which seemed years ago, with a fond, teasing smile.

Namjoon shook his head with a playful grimace, catching her gaze out of the corner of his eyes. He smelled really good, homey and masculine, and he was close enough for Y/N to try and pick out the top notes of his body wash: honey, musk, pine?

“Believe me. Dylan was one of the least grating of the bunch,” Namjoon responded, a dimple appearing on his cheek as the corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. “Besides. ‘Visions Of Johanna’ is one of the most beautiful songs ever written. Lyrically speaking.”

“I’ll make sure to give it a listen, if that’s what you think,” Y/N automatically responded, already adding the song to a queue on her phone. Lately, she’d been getting really fantastic music recommendations from each hybrid, which was a lovely thing to share with them. It allowed her a tiny window into all of their different, complex personalities. “Dinner’s ready, by the way. Wanted to grab you before I headed to the kitchen.”

“I know. Yoongi texted all of us,” Namjoon reached down to ruffle Y/N’s hair, as if she was being silly for even telling him.

“Oh, really?” Y/N squeaked quietly, following Namjoon around his bedroom like a lost puppy. He was tidying up, something Y/N noticed he tended to do before bed (otherwise, he’d be sleeping with encyclopedias and chess pieces). “Hoseok texted me…”

“Yeah, in the group chat,” Namjoon murmured distractedly, not minding that Y/N was hovering behind him like a phantom while he stacked loose pieces of parchment onto his nightstand, her eyebrows furrowing. “That’s usually how Yoongi lets us know food is ready.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond. Apparently, all the hybrids had a group chat between one another, one that didn’t include her, and she didn’t quite know how to feel about that. She wasn’t even sure if Namjoon realized that he had revealed a secret– perhaps it wasn’t and she was just unobservant– but he sensed something was up when she was quiet, looking over his shoulder inquisitively.

“What’s the matter? You look like I just stole candy from you,” Namjoon accused, though his eyes were soft and filled with concern. “Your eyes are a little puffy, too, have you been crying? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Namjoon, I’m okay. Just tired, is all,” Y/N didn’t even care if Namjoon could sniff out her lie, considering everything she had gone through that day. She didn’t have a shred of energy left to try and hide her emotions from her hybrids, and Namjoon usually wasn’t one to pry, so she prayed he’d take the hint. “Let’s go eat, okay?”

Before she could get too far, Namjoon caught a hold of her shoulders, two large palms settling over the joints and spinning her around so he could get a good look at her face. She was shaking, slightly, under his strong grip, eager to escape the scrutiny of those penetrating eyes of his.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but don’t lie to me. If you’re upset, at least don’t try to cover it all up,” Namjoon said firmly, leveling a stern look her way.

“Joon, please…” Y/N used her hands to ease his off of her, resigned. “It’s nothing, just some stress. I’ll be fine after I get some sleep tonight.”

Namjoon looked unconvinced, some unknown emotion flashing through his eyes, Y/N squeezing his hands before releasing them. She swore she could hear low growling coming from deep within his chest, but he composed himself and lightly cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the hallway.

“Okay, I’ll drop it,” Namjoon began heading out to the foyer, Y/N close behind. “Maybe you should read a book before bed to relax and get some good sleep. You’re really tense, I felt it in your shoulders. Have Yoongi make you some tea, too.”

Jolting at the mention of the very hybrid causing her rise in blood pressure, Y/N made a noncommittal noise. On the other hand, Namjoon’s kind consideration and concern for her well-being had butterflies coasting in her stomach.

“You’re sweet, Joonie,” Y/N murmured, mirroring his earlier action by reaching up high to ruffle his still-damp starlight hair. “Pick out a book for me, please?”

Though he was in front of her leading the way to the kitchen, Y/N could see the very tips of his human ears turn red as he grunted out an embarrassed ‘okay’. Namjoon, she found out, was more of a softie than she originally understood. Besides, he always picked out excellent books she’s never read before, which was a bonus.

The kitchen was warm and thick with the smell of roasted chicken and buttery, cheesy pasta, Y/N’s mouth watering against her will. Spite started to well up inside of her, surpassing her confusion and melancholy, and she desperately prayed to the sky that somehow Yoongi had screwed up the seasoning so she would have an excuse to not enjoy his food. Following Namjoon with a swish of his silvery tail, Y/N begrudgingly slunk further into the room.

She caught sight of Taehyung first, seated at the breakfast nook by himself, adjusting settings on the camera strapped around his neck. His hair was wild and curly like he just washed it, a vibrant multicolored, vintage-looking sweater slipping over his wrists giving him sweater paws. Cooing, Y/N made a beeline for the Kodiak hybrid– trying with all her might to appear as unaffected as Yoongi took garlic bread out of the oven and shot the breeze with Jimin about the cold weather. Taehyung was a more than wonderful distraction.

“Hi, Tae,” Y/N scooched into the booth, having no trouble cozying up to his furnacelike side, his chest rumbling as he instinctively used one of his arms to hook around her shoulders and pull her closer. “Working on something for the next expo? It’s a week before Christmas, right?”

Smiling with his mouth closed, Taehyung let Y/N wiggle closer into his warmth, wordlessly passing his camera over and resting his nose in her hair as she took it gingerly. Being pressed up so closely against him, Y/N could feel his chest expand with the deep inhale he took, Y/N so used to him and Jimin taking a whiff of her hair daily that it didn’t even register as odd to her anymore. Turning on the camera’s display, Y/N flicked through a couple of Taehyung’s latest works, his editing more streamlined than ever before and each shot more creative than the next. The subjects were images of nature, primarily the backyard and around the neighborhood, but taken from unique angles and using natural light in interesting ways.

“You’re getting so good at this, Tae. Pretty soon, you’ll have people asking to take wedding pictures for them!” Y/N passed his camera back to him, resisting the urge to totally curl into him or climb into his lap. He was just too cuddly.

“Thank you,” Taehyung now offered her his toothy smile, wide and showing just how beautiful it made his face, conveying joy contrary to his ever-so-quiet voice. “I still need to work on taking portraits. That’s the assignment for next week…”

“Well it’s fortunate that you live with seven other people to practice on, huh?” Y/N teased, loving the flush that dusted his cheeks and tip of his nose.

Their moment was interrupted by a black shadow, Y/N somewhat peeling herself off of Taehyung a tad to look up. It wasn’t a black shadow at all, however, it was just Jeongguk– dressed all in black, naturally, and with an enormous bowl of pasta and chicken in his hands.

“How was your day, Jeongguk? The Tarantino movies you guys were watching… which one was your favorite?” Y/N reached across the table to poke the top of his hand with each word she was speaking to capture his attention, knowing that doing so usually irritated him enough to answer her questions. Since Halloween, though, he’d been much less easily perturbed, and usually regarded her attempts to agitate with amused midnight-black eyes.

“Kill Bill. The first one, not the second. Pulp Fiction was good, but didn’t live up to all of that bullshit hype college kids drone on and on about,” Jeongguk playfully slapped her hand away from him so he could pick up a fork and start eating, a tiny wry grin pulling up the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t think I really liked any of them,” a new voice joined the conversation, Seokjin filling up the last empty space in the booth beside Y/N, miraculously balancing three bowls of pasta on his forearm to deliver to Y/N and Taehyung. “Gory, lots of swearing and violence.”

“Grow some balls, Pink Panther,” Jeongguk rolled his eyes, Y/N finding it extremely difficult not to laugh– he was quick on his feet to come up with that nickname, since Seokjin was wearing his favorite ballet-pink hoodie. “Why am I surprised? You could barely make it through an episode of Tokyo Ghoul, and that’s fuckin’ animated blood.”

“Oh, leave him be, Jeongguk. Action or gore isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and that’s totally okay,” Y/N emphasized her point by using her slipper-clad foot to collide lightly with his shin under the booth, a free hand coming up to smooth over Seokjin’s back affectionately. “Also, it’s hard to take you seriously when you’re talking over a mouthful of half-chewed chicken.”

There was Seokjin’s squeaky-sounding laugh coming from her right, Jeongguk rolling his eyes again, taking a swig of whatever cocktail he had made for himself. Looking down at the food Yoongi made and Seokjin had brought to her, she felt her stomach turning. While it looked and smelled delicious, she didn’t want to give Yoongi the satisfaction of horking the whole plate down right away. Instead, she watched everyone in the booth tuck in promptly, Y/N glowering at her slab of garlic bread with feigned disinterest.

“Not hungry?” Taehyung’s voice was in her ear, as always, low and indulgently rich. Concern lit up his eyes, his fork and knife paused mid-air as he studied the side of her face, even giving an animalistic sniff in her direction.

“I had a big lunch,” Y/N admitted, even though that was a bit of a lie. She had been so nervous about her piano lesson with Yoongi earlier in the day, all she could choke down at lunchtime was a handful of baby carrots and hummus.

Taehyung lifted a brow, definitely not buying the lie, but let it go without a word, mercifully. Y/N discovered that keeping her emotions under wraps from everybody while thoughts of Yoongi swirled around in her head constantly was more challenging than anything she had dealt with before.

Yoongi’s words kept echoing like a pagan chant in her ears: ‘I know how you feel. About us, all of us’. Was Yoongi that keen, already able to intimately decipher her emotions and feelings through scent alone, or was she painfully obvious about her embarrassingly large crushes on each hybrid she adopted? Flames licked her cheeks, and she afforded a look past Seokjin’s wide shoulders to Yoongi sitting beside Jimin at the island, his back to her. Even now, Y/N could detect a whisper of tension threading through the lean muscles of his back through his shirt, and though she was puzzled– at best– by everything that went down between them in the last few hours, she was pleased to see how much he had filled out with muscle between consistent meals and his basketball practices.

Sighing lightly, Y/N picked her way through her meal once tearing her eyes from Yoongi, not wanting to attract more attention by not eating dinner. Besides, her stomach was beginning to make embarrassing rumbling sounds, earning an annoyed side-eye from Namjoon across the room, pointedly using the tip of his nose to gesture towards her untouched plate. She resisted the split-second impulse to stick her tongue out at him, reconsidering upon remembering how intimidating Namjoon could be when teased.

Throughout dinner, Y/N distracted herself from her thoughts and the lack of typical banter she’d have with Yoongi by cozying up to Seokjin and Taehyung; asking them about their preferences for birthday meals during fast-approaching December. Jeongguk asked her if she happened to celebrate Christmas– she replied yes; while her and her mother celebrated the pagan holiday of Yule, her father was more of a traditionalist and loved Christmas.

“Yule lasts several days, and is made up of just some quiet rituals and whatnot– burning a Yule log, for example. But my dad adores all of the fun traditions of Christmas he had growing up, so he wanted to share that with me, too. We’d deck out the house in all of the lights, bake a thousand Christmas cookies, go out every year to pick out a tree… watch holiday movies in corny matching pajamas. My mom called it ‘Commercial Christmas’, but it was always really fun, and she was just poking fun at how silly my dad can get with it,” Y/N explained to the elk hybrid, him nodding along to her words while pushing broccoli around on his plate. “Oh! And there’s a Holiday Market in the city, too, if you guys are interested in checking that out next month. Food, decorations, music, all of that.”

It dawned on Y/N that her hybrids had likely never celebrated Christmas in the way she had in her youth. She had similar thoughts before, based on each of their strange, varied behaviors during the last three birthdays and Halloween, as well. It had her lower lip jutting out slightly, and she knew that perhaps the reason she worked so hard to make these events extra special in the past few months was because she was making up for their lost years of merriment and celebration of milestones.

Dwelling on that, she totally zoned out at the breakfast nook, only coming to when Seokjin collected her near-empty plate from her, snapping back to reality when he stood and her hand slipped from the middle of his back, where she was absently rubbing circles into the cozy material of his hoodie. All the jaguar hybrid did was flash her a sweet smile, bringing the dishes to the sink with a purr.

Shaking off her nerves, Y/N also rose from her seat, taking Taehyung with her so she’d have an excuse to cling to someone (and avoid Yoongi), by pulling him by the loose sleeve of his sweater, the Kodiak hybrid happily being hauled away from his camera and half-drunk glass of wine. Taehyung was one of the hybrids that didn’t drink as much as the others, or even Y/N herself, so sometimes a half of a glass of wine was all he needed for a pretty flush to color his cheeks and his tongue to loosen.

“What are we watching tonight, Y/N? Nothing scary, I pray?” Y/N managed to scoop Jimin up in her grasp, as well, his expression filled with trepidation as she sandwiched herself between the two hybrids and dragged them into the parlor.

The fire was roaring, and Taehyung broke free from her hold on his sweater to add another log to the tall flames in the fireplace– he was very serious about keeping it going strong until everyone headed off to bed, like it was an unspoken household duty he felt responsible for completely. Thankfully, he was quick to return to her, eager to claim one of the spots on either of her sides before anyone else could. As Ben had joked about over the phone with her, the hybrids did almost claw at each other in order to get a seat next to her on the couch, even Jeongguk, at that point. With Jimin and Taehyung being the ‘lucky’ ones that night, Y/N didn’t have to worry about sitting awkwardly inches away from Yoongi.

“No, sweet pea, nothing scary. Just for you and Hoseok, though… on second thought, Seokjinnie, too. I’ll save the horror marathons for another time. I was thinking we could watch something funny?”

Jimin’s shoulders relaxed downwards several inches, and his ears perked back up to their natural position as he handed her the remote, soothed that she wasn’t about to repeat her surprise showing of Suspiria from last month. Hoseok had to leave the room during the last few scenes of that one, in fact.

Y/N scrolled through the options in her digital library, avoiding romcoms at all costs, landing on some random comedy with Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn. She needed something mindless, something that required not much critical thinking, so she could forget about the tangled cobwebs clogging up the cavity that once held her brain.

The room slowly filled up with the rest of the hybrids, Hoseok tossing wrapped Klondike bars to everyone, Jeongguk taking up the recliner; Namjoon took his usual seat at Y/N’s feet, while Seokjin and Yoongi ended up sitting on the floor next to the couch. Yoongi minded his business, not even sending Y/N a glance as he sank to the floor with his glass of wine. Seokjin didn’t seem pleased that he was so far from Y/N, but knew that her rotating who she sat next to was in an effort to be fair– and he respected that.

“I know how you feel. About us, all of us.”

“Ben, can you just listen before you say ‘I told you so’?” Y/N stirred cream into her coffee, her lower eyelid twitching when she tasted the concoction on her tongue. Somehow, ever since Yoongi started making her coffee for her each morning, she couldn’t seem to make her favorite ratio quite as precise as he did– even though she had been making it perfectly fine years before he took up the task for her. “I’ll let you say it all you want after I get some of this off my chest.”

Saturday morning, Y/N met up with Ben in the city at their favorite brunch spot on Newbury street, leaving all of her hybrids at home for a lazy morning by themselves. It was rare these days that she’d carve out time to go out with her human friends without at least one of the boys tagging along with her, but miraculously, she was able to break free for a few hours to catch up– or vent– with Ben. Ben cocked an eyebrow at her, taking a measured sip of his mimosa.

“I can do that, but first–” Ben reached into his briefcase, rummaging around within the depths of the leather bag, boldly pulling out a nip of Kahlua and swiftly dumping it into Y/N’s coffee. “You look like you’re one inconvenience away from a nervous breakdown. Happy Saturday, have a drink.”

“Thanks,” Y/N grimaced, sucking down the entirety of the scalding, now spiked, coffee in one go, Ben waving his hand as if to say ‘don’t mention it’. “Christ, I don’t even know where to start…”

Y/N had spent the night tossing and turning, even after the stupid movie she watched with the hybrids and a few shots of gin, waking up with dark circles under her eyes and two hours of sleep under her belt. In those two hours, she had dreams of red curtains, whiskey-scented whispers, piano, and hazel, feline eyes.

“I think I have an idea of where this is going,” Ben broke the ice after several moments, once the waiter came by to take their brunch orders and bring another round of drinks. This time, Y/N got herself a mimosa, too. “Let me guess. You fell for one of them.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop, the Kahlua, coffee, and champagne churning in her gut as Ben stared at her expectantly. Ben was always quick to pick up on how Y/N felt, particularly when it had to do with her romantic life, but it wasn’t like she was around him enough these days for him to observe her around all of her hybrids… fell for one? She had to laugh, and the sound came out snorted and pathetic.

“Oh, it’s worse than I thought. More than one? Taking cues from those reverse-harem animes you used to love in high school, huh?” Ben pressed, his nose scrunching up upon hearing the braying donkey laugh Y/N was trying to cover up by chugging her mimosa, a swig of it going down her windpipe.

“Nnn–ugh! Fuck me, Ben. Lower your voice,” Y/N coughed into her cloth napkin, frantically glancing around the restaurant as if she was being surveilled.

“Relax, Y/N, they’re not even here. They can’t hear you all the way from the Haunted Mansion, even with hybrid ears. Get on with it, spill. You’ll feel better,” Ben pushed a hand through his coiffed red hair, sucking his teeth as he assessed Y/N’s frazzled appearance and erratic behavior. She must have looked like a nutcase.

“I… Stop looking at me like that! If you’re so smart, you must have pieced together everything already, so why bother?” Y/N accused, but when Ben simply hardened his cerulean gaze, Y/N knew that he was encouraging her to talk through her feelings rather than squirreling them away until she exploded. “Fine. Yeah, okay. I have a crush on them, all of them, as a matter of fact, if that’s even humanly possible… and I know what you’re thinking, I’m batshit, I’m gross, and I’ve put myself in a horrible scenario.”

“Y/N, will you just take a breath, please? We’ve been friends for over a decade. Nothing you say to me is going to scare me off or make me ‘shame’ you Cersei-Game-of-Thrones-style. So, you’re attracted to all seven of them? I mean seriously, Y/N, I can’t blame you, and if you called Laura or Alice, they wouldn’t either. They’re all gorgeous,” Ben leaned back in his seat, both seriousness and amusement dancing across his features.

Y/N wrestled the champagne bottle resting in the tableside bucket of ice up and out of the shards, pouring herself another glass and completely ignoring the orange juice pitcher nearby that would make her mimosa, well, a mimosa.

“You know, Y/N… humans and hybrids can be in romantic relationships, and before you fly off of the handle, let me finish! Listen, I know, you know, and your hybrids know that you didn’t adopt them to use-and-abuse, obviously. You’ve always been a romantic, Y/N, it’s not like you can control how you feel, especially when it comes to love.”

Processing this, Y/N gawked at Ben, suddenly unable to come up with any kind of retort. Their waiter came by with their food, and the smell of Y/N’s French toast made her utterly nauseous as soon as it was placed in front of her. Grimacing, she pushed the plate to the side, Ben smirking over a bite of crispy bacon.

“Love…” Y/N squeaked, the four-letter-word wheezing from her chest painfully, Ben having the nerve to roll his eyes.

“You do love them, don’t you? Besides the fact that it's obvious to me, as your wonderful best friend, when you fall, you fall hard,” Ben nudged Y/N’s plate back in front of her, sticking a fork in her hand with mischief in his eyes. “It’s a different kind of love– but I love Daisy, she’s my daughter, and I can’t imagine my life without her anymore. That must be similar to how you feel, no?”

For at least a month, Y/N kept herself in blissful, complete denial, trying to squash down her feelings as best she could in an effort to keep them from the hybrids. She didn’t know if she was fooling them, because she definitely wasn’t fooling Ben, who looked like he was trying to refrain from laughing. The more she thought about her recent behavior; stuttering, blushing, heart racing, constant cuddling, the more stupid she felt.

“God, I’m a moron,” Y/N stuffed a piece of French toast into her dried-out mouth, the consistency like glue as she chewed. “They probably already know and are just too nice to reject me. Or they’re scared to.”

Ben didn’t say anything, just letting Y/N come to terms with the startling realization: she loved them. Seven different men, she was in love with seven, and the gravity of that realization was driving her to silent lunacy.

“Whatever scenario you’re coming up with in your head, stop it, you’ll start panicking,” Ben reached across the table to grasp Y/N’s hand lightly, his thumb smoothing over the back of it. “It’s kind of a scary, tricky… uh, delicate, subject, but how would you feel about maybe just talking to them about it instead of bottling things up? Even at the cookout in August, I could tell most of them cared about you quite deeply.”

“Can you imagine that conversation, Ben? ‘Hey guys, I know we’re in the middle of dinner and it’s not like you can get away from me after this, but I accidentally fell in love with all of you, so that’s why I’ve been walking around like a bumbling idiot’,” Y/N hissed, her face going hot just by visualizing that scene in her head. “Also, I haven’t even told you what happened yesterday, and if a confession to the seven of them went anything like what went down last night, I’d have to move to a rock out in the middle of the sea.”

Motioning for her to explain, Y/N launched into the long, complicated report on her interaction with Yoongi post piano lesson, speaking in a hurried and hushed tone. Ben listened carefully, but Y/N chose to leave out some of the more supernatural aspects of her first meeting with Yoongi in The Black Lodge– Ben was a skeptic, at best, so she told him she had gotten too drunk and forgot about meeting Yoongi. By the time she had ended her story with how Yoongi seemed to be acting like nothing happened, Ben’s eyebrows were knitted and their breakfasts had long since been polished off and forgotten.

“Uh…” Ben leaned back in his seat after he was stunned speechless for several moments, robotically passing his credit card to the waiter, his free hand coming up to rub his close-cut beard. “You weren’t bullshitting me with that text last night. That’s a lot to unpack.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. He pretty much revealed to me that he knows I’m crushing on them all, totally called me out on it. Even went as far as saying it wouldn’t be long before the others figure it out, too,” Y/N moaned miserably into her hands, covering her face exhaustedly.

“Y/N… from what you told me,” Ben started gently, as if he was trying not to spook a nervous animal. “I think Yoongi likes you too. I mean, he waited for a year for you to remember him, he said he enjoyed talking to you, and honey– he kissed you. You shouldn’t take that bit lightly, either. Predator hybrids like Yoongi, specifically the big cats or canines, are extremely selective when it comes to choosing their romantic partners. To them, it’s like finding their mate.”

“I– no. If that was the case, he would have told me, I’m sure of it. You’ve seen him, right? Met him? He’s gorgeous, funny, caring, can cook like a dream and is a talented pianist; he could have anybody he wants, and I’m not exempt from that, and he knows it… so that’s my reasoning, I guess.”

“Why are you spewing nonsense? You’re starting to tick me off. You were never this full of self doubt in the past, especially over a man. You have to talk to him about this, sooner rather than later. Tell him how you feel, and don’t beat around the bush. And even though I’m almost positive that he likes you romantically, you two need to sort it out before the others catch on and it spirals into something even more tangled,” Ben, as they prepared to leave the restaurant, helped Y/N shrug into her coat, his hands on her shoulders as he gave her a necessary reality check– though his expression was sympathetic and full of concern. “I’ll help you out. I can borrow a couple of your guys on Monday to watch Daisy while I go into the office, and you see if you can somehow get Yoongi alone, okay?”

“Monday…” Y/N blanched, not prepared to throw caution to the wind and admit her feelings that soon. “I-I guess I can make that work. Seokjin and Joonie will be at the library with my mom for the book club, Tae at the rec center preparing for his next expo…”

“Alright. I’ll take the other three for babysitting– the cowboy, the grump, and Foxy, am I correct?” Ben attempted to lighten the mood, holding the restaurant door open for Y/N with a wry grin. “You can do this, Y/N. You’re a smart, beautiful young woman, and I know how much you love those boys. They all deserve to know how much you do– but start with Yoongi.”

Y/N made a noncommittal, grumbling noise, grinding her teeth as the bitter wind whipped through the streets of Boston. Autumn was nearly over, and the harsh winter was well on its way, Christmas decorations already beginning to pop up on certain storefronts.

“If it goes to shit, I’m calling you. You know how I am with romantic confessions. Remember Liam in high school? I broke out in hives asking him to homecoming,” Y/N muttered, grabbing Ben’s hand and shoving their joined palms into his coat pocket, her best friend snickering at the memory. “Can we change the subject? I’m starting to feel itchy. You can still swing by Copley with me, right?”

“Yeah, I have some time. What are you going there for?” Ben steered her in a different direction than they were going, cutting through some side streets to get to the mall.

“I’m picking up some things for Seokjin’s birthday, it’s coming up really soon. I found some cookware online I think he’d like, he’s been into culinary pursuits recently,” Y/N felt some of her anxiety dissipate as she thought about sweet Seokjin. He had pouted that morning when she left to meet Ben, and it was hard to pry him off of her as she was heading out the front door.

“Oh! That reminds me. Has Sarah gotten in touch with you?”

“She did, actually. We’re planning to meet at some point after the holidays, probably in January. I don’t know if I should tell Seokjin, or keep it a surprise for a little while…” Y/N bit her lip, recalling the pleasant email exchanges she had with the woman who had adopted Hannah.

“With everything you’ve got going on right now, I think it’s alright to hold off on telling him until the plan is more concrete. Focus on the two birthdays you have coming up, Christmas, and sorting out the thing with Yoongi,” Ben shrugged, squeezing Y/N’s fingers as they ambled down the frosty sidewalk.

“Shit. I have to order Christmas presents soon…” Y/N used her free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, thanking the sky that she had that extra income from the boarded horses– gifts for seven hybrids and her other friends and family would certainly add up cost-wise. “I wish I had an assistant to keep track of everything I have to do.”

“Ah, you say that, but I haven’t seen you this happy in years, Y/N,” Ben countered, winking at her. “Even with all of the romantic drama, adopting those boys brought you back to life.”

“Stop being sappy, I’ll cry. Seriously, I will! They’re not around to fuss over me right now and I can do so freely, and that’s an opportunity I would take if you keep it up,” Y/N nudged Ben in the ribs, separating from him as they reached the revolving doors of Copley Place.

Once in the toasty mall, she and Ben changed the direction of their conversation, Y/N feeling merry despite the looming task of confronting Yoongi in two day’s time. They made plans to have a holiday get-together at her house, with Roy and Daisy, and the Santos twins as well, all while piling items into a cart for Seokjin’s birthday.

“Come on, sweets, won’t you do it for me?” Y/N was perched on the velvet bench at the foot of Jeongguk’s bed, attempting to convince him to go willingly to Ben’s for ‘babysitting’ early Monday afternoon. She tried to make her eyes as doelike as possible, Jeongguk chewing on his lip ring with his arms crossed, staring down at her.

“That pouting doesn’t work on me. Go find literally anyone else in the house it does work on, Y/N,” Jeongguk tsked, pulling a few buttons loose on the creamy button-down he was wearing.

“Okay, shithead. You want to be sassy today? Be my guest. Just saying though, Daisy has been asking for you. Ben says you’re one of her favorites,” Y/N bit back, just to see if guilting him was the way to go. Jeongguk simply shook his head, having the audacity to look amused by her outburst. She was already on edge, and his nonchalance and stubbornness did not make things better. “Maybe this will sweeten the pot. Ben said he was going to pay you guys.”

“Bribery, coercion, ass-kissing… you must really want me out of the house today,” Jeongguk drawled, turning away from Y/N as he used his floor-length mirror to clasp the necklace her mother gave him for his birthday around his neck. Through the thin material of his light-colored shirt, Y/N could faintly detect the black lines of the mystery tattoo on his back.

“No, but it wouldn’t kill you, Jeongguk. Don’t you want to get out for a little bit? You, Hoseok, and Jimin can take Daisy to the playground in the Common, get some food, walk around…” Y/N refrained from flinching when the elk hybrid accurately called her out for shooing him out.

“How the fuck can we go out without a human with us? Won’t the four of us get scooped up by agents and tossed back into Gerry’s shithole shelter? Besides, why does a four-year-old hybrid need three babysitters, aren’t Foxy and Blondie enough?” Jeongguk approached Y/N once more, using his thumb and forefinger to gently flick her forehead.

“Ugh, you’re such a little shit,” Y/N rubbed the spot he flicked, even though it didn’t hurt at all. “I ordered you all ID’s, remember? They arrived this morning. If you get stopped, you show agents your ID, and it tells them that you’re adopted and can roam even without me being present. Daisy has one too, the version for children… She needed it for enrollment in her daycare.”

Jeongguk paused in contemplation, his eyes scanning her face thoughtfully as she squirmed on the bench under his scrutiny, one of his ears lazily twitching. It was a stare-down, Y/N needed to have that talk with Yoongi, and she wanted the conversation to be as private as possible, and Jeongguk seemed a touch suspicious.

“You really want me to go babysit the bunny that badly?” Jeongguk narrowed his eyes, a spark of triumph lighting up inside of Y/N as she sensed him beginning to cave.

“Yes, please! I’ll call in some baked ziti for you from Sal’s for dinner,” Y/N jumped to her feet, Jeongguk rolling his eyes and sticking his notebook into the pocket of his baggy black cargo pants.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re only saying that because I’m doing you a favor, and you probably want pizza yourself, kiddo,” Jeongguk grunted as Y/N elbowed him in the ribs, scoffing at him indignantly.

“I’m only like a year younger than you. ‘Kiddo’, really?” Y/N paused by his bedroom door, softening up once seeing the twinkle of merriment in Jeongguk’s dark eyes.

Suddenly overwhelmed with affection for the elk hybrid, considering how much he had warmed up to her over the past few weeks, she leaned up on her tip-toes, lips brushing over his sharp cheekbone for a barely-there kiss while he froze to a complete stand-still. Pulling away as quickly as she could before he could say anything, she giggled at how round his eyes became before heading out to the hall.

“Thanks for the favor, sweets. Ben will be here in 15 minutes to pick you and the other two up!” She called over her shoulder, hurrying away with the image of Jeongguk looking adorably stunned burned into her retinas.

Bounding downstairs, Y/N managed to round up Jimin and Hoseok from the backyard, both of them more than willing to watch Daisy for a bit– the both of them practically doted on her. She handed out their new-and-shiny ID’s, Y/N smiling at the pictures on the cards. Staring at Jeongguk’s picture, with a serious expression on his face, she snorted at the way his antlers didn’t quite fit in the frame.

“Tae did a nice job with all of your photos for these, huh?” Y/N gushed, brushing her fingertips over the tiny picture on Namjoon’s ID, which she’d have to give to him later. “Next time I get my license renewed, I want him to take my picture too, I always look washed out and horrendous in the ones taken at the DMV.”

“I doubt that, Y/N. You always look nice in pictures, even the ones Taehyung takes of you,” Jimin disagreed with her, grinning when she pinched his fleshy cheek bashfully.

“Such a charmer, Jiminie. Aw, her heart’s racing,” Hoseok crooned, squeezing himself in between her and the coyote hybrid, a wicked smirk on his face as he patted his chest to mimic heartbeats.

Hissing, Y/N tried to step away from the teasing bastard, even more humiliated now, but Hoseok was far too quick for her to make a feeble human’s attempt at escape. Boldly, he grabbed her by the belt loops of her jeans, bending low to press one of his ears over her heart. Squeaking as she wiggled in his grasp, a few of his fingertips slipping into the waistband of her jeans to keep her in place, his skin burning hot with hybrid heat.

“Hear that, Jiminie? It’s beating even faster now!” Hoseok continued gleefully, squeezing the flesh over her hip bones before he– mercifully– pulled away. “How cute, darling, you’re way too easy to flatter, and even easier to tease.”

“Hoseok,” Y/N used all of her strength to prevent herself from melting into the floorboards, not even noticing that Jimin’s shoulders were shaking with laughter and Jeongguk had crept into the foyer during the spectacle. “Stop fucking with me, the playing field isn’t even. I can’t hear your heartbeat, or smell your embarrassment, or whatever.”

“You could always try flattery, you have a knack for it,” Jeongguk leaned against the front door, seemingly recovered from the smooch she planted on his cheek only moments ago.

“Brat,” Y/N sneered, though it was half hearted, and she was interrupted by a three-beat honk from outside. “Ooh, Ben’s here. Okay, I think you two have poked enough fun at me, get going. See you soon, sweetheart, have fun and be safe.”

Y/N murmured her last statement directly to Jimin, using a hand to shove Hoseok towards Jeongguk and out of the front door. Patting Jimin’s shoulder lightly, she leaned up to whisper into his ear.

“You’re in charge, make sure those two don’t swear in front of Daisy, please,” though Y/N was whispering in Jimin’s ear, she was the one shivering with the proximity, intoxicating, dark lavender filling her senses and calming her steadily-climbing anxiety; it was almost time for her to look for Yoongi, who she hadn’t seen the entire day.

“See you later, Y/N,” Jimin grinned like he knew something she didn’t, craning his neck sideways to press a kiss to one of her knuckles, her hand turning clammy as it slipped from his shoulder when he strolled out the front door.

Y/N stood in the threshold of the door, watching the three hybrids get into Ben’s car, and stayed until Ben drove off down the street. The silence that followed their departure was eerie, Y/N wondering if Yoongi was taking a nap or was even in the house at all. Typically, during the early afternoon, the leopard hybrid would be messing around on the piano or reading a book in the parlor, but there was no music coming from upstairs and the heavily trafficked parlor was deserted and dark. Sighing, Y/N started to stack logs into the fireplace, knowing if Taehyung came home later and there was no fire, he’d be upset. She knew that she was stalling the inevitable, finding Yoongi and having the conversation she had been dreading for 48 hours, but she tried to summon courage to face him from the growing flames in the fireplace.

Once she had mustered enough nerve, Y/N wandered through the house to find Yoongi. She searched every nook and cranny, every back hallway and hidden passageway, but clearly he wasn’t inside. Muttering under her breath, she dropped some clean laundry off in Namjoon’s room, pulling on the sherpa-lined jean jacket he had draped over his desk chair to prepare herself for traipsing around the yard. Inhaling Namjoon’s scent on the collar of his jacket, the oversized fabric swallowing her whole, she felt warmth fill her up with the notes of honey and Namjoon.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Y/N whimpered as soon as she opened the slider to the backyard, wrapping Namjoon’s coat more tightly around her torso. In the distance, horses were whinnying in the stable, and there were some creepy looking turkey vultures sitting in the naked oak tree next to the picnic table. “Where’s my angel…”

The sky was a gloomy gray, and Y/N wondered if snow was on the way with the way the frost-dusted grass was crunching under her feet. That quiet, still sensation just before a snowstorm was present, as well, which is why the echoing sound of a basketball striking asphalt made her jolt in surprise. Bingo.

Weaving her way past the gate to the driveway and garage, Y/N let out a nervous breath, becoming a misty cloud of white in front of her. The turkey vultures in the oak tree started making their disturbing, guttural shrieks, sending a chill down her spine. Quickening her pace, butterflies started fluttering in her stomach as the basketball hoop came into view.

Aware that Yoongi could both hear and smell her, she paused several feet away, eyes sweeping the area for the leopard hybrid. He was just there, she was sure of it, but he was nowhere in sight.

“Yoongi? Where are you?” Y/N called, annoyed with the possibility that he was avoiding her on purpose. She knelt down, numb fingers grasping the acid-washed hoodie Yoongi must have tossed onto the ground, when a pair of sneakers appeared in her line of vision, she glanced up at the owner, swearing colorfully.

Yoongi was staring down at her, basketball tucked under his arm, very sweaty and very much without a shirt. Mouth drying up, she felt a range of emotions flood through her; fluster, affection, happiness, concern, before finally landing on anger.

“Oh my god, it’s like thirty degrees out here! Put this on,” Y/N impulsively threw his sweatshirt at him, hitting him square in the chest before it unceremoniously fell back onto the pavement.

“I was too hot. Hybrid body heat, silly girl,” Yoongi replied simply, his old nickname for her making a comeback. Unfortunately for Y/N, paired with his damp, long hair and naked chest, it sent a bolt of arousal through her unexpectedly. Hopefully he couldn’t smell it. “What’s up? Where is everyone?”

Y/N read between the lines– that was Yoongi’s newest code for ‘find one of the others, I don’t want to talk to you’. Gritting her teeth, she managed to straighten up, forcing herself to look him in the eyes and not the dewy skin over his collarbones.

“They’re all out. It’s just you and I, at the moment,” Y/N cleared her throat, getting a strong blast of vanilla-and-cloves as Yoongi passed a veiny hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Please, for my sake, put on the sweatshirt. I don’t want you turning into a popsicle.”

“Nah,” Yoongi turned away from her, dribbling the ball and aiming to shoot it into the basket, his tail curling around his leg as it usually did when he’d play. “Why, don’t like what you see?”

Y/N’s eyes glazed over as she watched the muscles in his back move and flex, effortlessly sinking the ball into the basket and elegantly slinking to the hoop to retrieve the ball before it could bounce away. The pale skin of his chest was slightly flushed pink, making Y/N’s mouth water, and all at once she felt like a creep.

“Cat’s got your tongue?” Yoongi drawled, his gravelly voice raising goosebumps on her flesh. Apparently, her hybrids felt like toying with her that day.

Steeling herself, she approached Yoongi with determination, forgetting all about his sweatshirt, his expression growing curious and spotted ears flattening against his head at their proximity.

“Are you avoiding me again? We never finished our… conversation,” Y/N began, chickening out on professing her love right away, considering his lack of a shirt.

“You reek like the wolf,” Yoongi dodged the question and subject entirely, moving like he was going to take another shot at the hoop. Before he could get far, Y/N reached out and yanked the basketball out of his hands, scowling.

“We need to talk, Yoongi. You’ve hardly been able to stand in the same room as me longer than five minutes since that night,” Y/N averted her eyes from his face, finding it hard to look at him with all the emotions running through her.

Yoongi sighed, the sound of it seemingly coming from the depths of his soul, scooping his sweatshirt off of the ground and shrugging it on.

“Let’s go inside. Seokjin would die if he saw you out here without a hat,” Yoongi mumbled, resigned, and motioned for Y/N to follow him into the house.

They were quiet, Y/N’s pulse thundering in her ears, positively dreading the conversation they were about to have. If Yoongi rejected her, she’d have to lock herself in her room to cry and lick her wounds for hours, but if he didn’t… how on earth would she explain the situation between her and Yoongi to the others?

“So, what is there to ‘finish’ about our conversation?” Yoongi broke the silence as he followed her up to the music room– the most soundproof room in the house, lest someone come home early and interrupt them. Yoongi sounded bitter, like the words on his tongue tasted of grave dirt, Y/N wincing knowing that she was the cause of it. “I thought we wrapped it up already. What’s the use of beating a dead horse? We met before, you forgot, we kissed, now we’re here. End of story.”

“No, Yoongi, it’s not. I–” Y/N cut herself off, sinking down onto the couch with her head in her hands. “Let me apologize, first. I don’t want you to think that our kiss was a drunken mistake to me. I shouldn’t have insinuated that. I’m sorry, angel.”

Yoongi stiffened, at either her words or her nickname for him, she didn’t know. He remained standing in front of her, ears perked up and alert, hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie.

“I’m sorry I can’t remember. Believe me, I want to, more than anything. I’ve been having dreams, though, flashes of a memory. Maybe it will return to me, in time,” Y/N peeked at Yoongi through her fingertips, nervously chewing on her lip.

“Y/N–”

“Please, just, can you hear me out for a minute?” Y/N interrupted whatever warning he was undoubtedly trying to dole out, desperate to get it over with before she lost her nerve. “Last time we talked about this, you said you knew how I felt, about you, about the others, but I changed the subject.”

Yoongi nodded, his eyes narrowing and arms crossing over his chest, waiting for her to continue. Taking a deep breath, Y/N dropped her hands from her face, finally making eye-contact with the leopard hybrid, who appeared to be taking in all of her micro reactions.

“You were right, or are right, about my feelings. I’m only starting to, um, understand those feelings, but you noticed them before I even realized they were there,” Y/N fidgeted with her fingers in her lap, growing hot in the face. “I’m sorry for hiding it, and I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Met with silence, Y/N’s worst fear was coming to life; he was going to reject her, their relationship would be permanently damaged, and her heart was going to shatter. Yoongi simply stared at her with that sharp feline gaze, a muscle in his jaw working and his expression giving away nothing as two what he was thinking.

“I don’t want to lie to you anymore, and it’s totally fine that you don’t feel the same way, but I need to tell you,” Y/N’s voice became shaky, heart feeling like it was going to explode, ready to careen off the edge of no return. “I love you, Yoongi.”

The world went still, not even the birds outside chirping, and Y/N wasn’t confident that she was breathing anymore. Without a word, Yoongi turned on his heel, plopped down on the bench and slid a hand over the weathered keys of the piano. Baffled and heartbroken, Y/N sat frozen on the couch, stiff as a board and head spinning.

Before her vision could go black, Yoongi began to play. Eyes snapping open, she couldn’t help the gasp that ripped from her chest; Yoongi was playing the song he had composed, the one he previously wouldn’t perform for her even upon her countless requests to. Though his face was blank of emotion, his playing certainly wasn’t, and the song almost breathed air as his hands floated across the keys. It was one of the most beautiful songs she had ever heard, so much so that she wasn’t even aware that she was crying until she felt the hot tears tracking down her cheeks.

It was over too soon, the final note ringing out solemnly, Yoongi standing from the bench and heading towards the door, his ears flat against his head again. He stopped, hand twitching over the doorknob when he heard Y/N sniffle pathetically, looking over his shoulder. Heart bursting into smithereens at the look of anguish on his face, Y/N wanted to rush over to him, but couldn’t bear looking at him any longer.

“I wrote that the day after we met. The first thing I composed in years. I wrote it for you.”

With that, Yoongi left the room, Y/N feeling her tears run down her neck, listening to the sound of him closing the door to his bedroom and turning on the tap to his shower.

“So Y/N, it wasn’t exactly a rejection,” Laura soothed through the phone, Y/N humming noncommittally. She was in her car in the driveway, several days later, Seokjin’s birthday, his birthday cake sitting on the passenger seat beside her.

“I don’t know what the fuck it was. He’s been walking around the house like a fucking ghost for days now, I think I broke him,” Y/N ran a hand through her hair, not believing that she had to resort to taking phone calls in her car to avoid eavesdropping. “I set out to see if I could fix things, or tell him my feelings, but now everything is even more messed up. I don’t know what to do.”

“Give him time, honey. He shouldn’t be leaving you hanging like that, but maybe it’s a lot to process for him. Your hybrids have been through a lot, he probably wasn’t expecting you to confront him,” Laura theorized, making Y/N snort. She had just accepted that Yoongi had been weirded out and didn’t reciprocate her feelings, but she humored Laura anyway.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll keep you updated, I guess,” Y/N replied airily, eyes landing on the pink buttercream frosting spelling out Seokjin’s name on his cake, a small smile spreading across her face despite everything. “I gotta run, Laura. Have to round everyone up for Seokjin’s brunch.”

“Keep me updated!” Laura exclaimed urgently, Y/N grunting in response, before hanging up and hauling herself outside. She moved Seokjin’s cake to the trunk where his gifts were, making room for him to sit next to her during the ride to the restaurant.

Y/N: Time to go! Reservation is at noon <3

Hoseok 🦊: Jinnie looks so handsome on his birthday 🤧

Seokjinnie 🌸: -_-

Jimin 🦋: We’re coming!

Y/N: Can one of you please lock the door on the way out

Joonie 🐺: I got it.

Making sure the heat was cranked up in the cab for Seokjin, she watched the front door like a hawk, waiting for everyone to file out. They came out in pairs, first Jimin and Taehyung, then Hoseok and Seokjin. Last out was Jeongguk and Yoongi, followed by Namjoon diligently locking the door and even giving the handle a jiggle to ensure it was deadbolted. Feeling warm all over at the sight of them, all dressed up in their unique styles, Y/N grinned, even though her heart was still bleeding for Yoongi. She pushed that aside, for now, for Seokjin, determined to give him the best birthday ever.

“It’s so cold! Fuckin’ Boston weather,” Hoseok whined, the first one to the car, sliding in the seat behind Y/N. “Would moving to Florida ever be an option?”

“Hell no,” Y/N twisted her face up in disgust even thinking about swampy Florida summers. “We can visit someday, though. Go to Disney World or something.”

“Where are your gloves?” Seokjin climbed into the passenger seat, Namjoon begrudgingly giving up his designated spot for the birthday boy, pointedly narrowing his orange eyes at her bare hands on the steering wheel.

“Oh, somewhere in the house. I don’t need them, we’re going from the car to the restaurant,” Y/N blushed when he took her hands in his, his thick lips puckering to blow warm air onto them. “Happy birthday, my Seokjinnie!”

“You’re old as fuck,” Jeongguk commented from the third row of seats, his hair slicked back with gel as Y/N glared at him in the rearview mirror. “30? Judas priest.”

“Have some respect for your elders, fuckface,” Hoseok defended Seokjin, a lazy smile on his face when Y/N turned around to back out of her spot in front of the house.

“Please, stop swearing,” Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose delicately, making Y/N snort.

She drove one-handed to the restaurant, one of them captured by Seokjin, who was doing the thing where he lightly traced his fingertips over her skin in endless patterns. He was purring, too, Y/N stealing glances of him every once in a while– Hoseok was right, he looked unbearably handsome. Shiny, wavy raven hair, a cozy plum-colored sweater, and his expression content and relaxed.

When they arrived, Y/N had Namjoon and Taehyung help her bring in the cake and the gifts, never letting go of Seokjin’s hand once. She shouldn’t have noticed, but she did, that Yoongi was keeping a lot of space between them, sitting the furthest away from her at the table and silently reading the menu while everyone else chatted. If the other hybrids had noticed his odd behavior the past few days, they were very good at pretending they didn’t.

Shaking her head, she put all of her attention on Seokjin, who still hadn’t released her hand. He wiggled in his seat happily, tail curling around her lower back, scooching his chair closer to Y/N.

“What are you going to get?” Y/N leaned her cheek on Seokjin’s shoulder, reading his menu instead of her own. With a purr, Seokjin pointed out a few items, his teeth digging into his lower lip. “Ooh, that sounds yummy! Eggs benedict?”

They ended up ordering an obscene amount of food, Y/N passing on the mimosas so she could drive home uncompromised, but ordered a round for all of the hybrids.

“So, how’s the book of the week so far?” Y/N asked Seokjin, who was taking a dainty sip of his mimosa. “A Christmas Carol, right?”

“Mm-hm. It’s a little early for Christmas stories in my opinion, though,” Seokjin cocked his head, a contemplative look on his face. “Have you been sleeping okay lately, Y/N?”

Seokjin was too kind to not point out the very obvious dark circles under her eyes, but she knew that was why he asked. Truthfully, she was lucky if she got three hours of sleep every night since she told Yoongi she loved him, but she couldn’t admit that to Seokjin. The last thing she wanted was to concern him on his birthday.

“Yeah, I’ve just been having strange dreams that sometimes wake me up. I’m perfectly fine, though, honey,” Y/N attempted to soothe, Seokjin nodding and taking another swig of his mimosa.

Thankfully, before he could pry, food arrived, and Y/N busied herself by stuffing her face so she didn’t have to talk.

“This is the first time I’ve ever celebrated my birthday,” Seokjin admitted quietly, the food in front of him untouched as he seemingly soaked everything in. Chest squeezing, Y/N snaked an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder through his sweater.

“Good thing you’ll have plenty more to celebrate each year, to make up for that,” she replied equally as soft, Seokjin’s eyes softening as he returned a kiss to her– his lips stamping affection on the crown of her head.

Flushing, she caught Yoongi’s eyes across the table, that same blank look on his face from when he played the song for her days ago. Her song. Hurriedly looking back down at her food, she stuffed the emotion welling up inside her deep down.

“Try this,” Seokjin interrupted her attempt to not wallow, a fork with a perfect bite of eggs benedict on it appearing in front of her face.

Automatically, she opened her mouth like it was second nature; Seokjin often liked to feed her bites of his food like that, and she was never one to deny him. His lips twisted up into a smug smirk, using his free hand to cup her jaw like always, angling her face upwards so he could feed her the bite of his entree. She felt eyes on her from the whole table, but she couldn’t have cared less, locked in on the way Seokjin’s gaze was fixed on her mouth.

“How is it?” Seokjin asked through his shit-eating grin, his touch vanishing but his tail still curled around her waist.

“Mmm,” was all Y/N could articulate, swallowing slowly and unable to break free from his spell.

“Spoiled,” Seokjin murmured, tutting. Heart falling to her ass, she gawked at his gorgeous side profile with utter disbelief, ears turning hot with humiliation and something else.

“H-huh?” She squeaked, though the jaguar hybrid simply resumed eating, striking up a conversation with Hoseok a couple of seats down, still smirking.

Reeling, Y/N managed to choke down the remainder of her meal, only snapping out of it when the waitresses came by with Seokjin’s cake, lit up with sparkler candles. Amazingly, Seokjin didn’t even flinch when the cake was placed in front of him, despite his usual aversion to things that were on fire or noisy, his cheeks rounding out as he read the top of his cake and blew out the candles. Hoseok sang a rather off-key version of “Happy Birthday” with the waitresses, and Y/N noticed that Taehyung had brought his camera with him, furiously taking pictures with flash of the entire event.

“You got the lavender cake!” Seokjin exclaimed while Y/N was cutting a slice for him, pink frosting covering the pale purple sponge; a very Seokjin color scheme.

“I did! You said you liked it a few months ago, I hope you still do,” Y/N pushed the plate in front of him, wondering if she should have a slice herself, considering how stuffed she was from all of the food Seokjin had just fed her.

This time, Seokjin was the one blushing, mouth full of cake. Chuckling, she ruffled his hair, sliding plate after plate of cake down the table for each of the hybrids, astonished that they still had room in their tummies.

“Okay, so what did you get Jinnie for his birthday? Did you snag him an audition on Masterchef?” Hoseok asked, frosting coating his lips.

“Oh! Joonie, can you pass me those bags?” Y/N exclaimed, Namjoon getting up from his booth seat to deliver the three gifts at the head of the table, his damaged ear flickering when she called his name.

Seokjin, who wasn’t quite as shy as he was when she first met him, accepted the first gift bag with pink ears despite all of his opening up. The whole table– apart from Yoongi, who excused himself to the bathroom minutes prior– watched Seokjin peer into the bag with rapt interest.

The first gift was from her mother, a lovely vintage watch that Y/N had helped her pick out at a pawn shop recently. When she spotted it in the shop, it had Seokjin written all over it; elegant and classic, and went well with his polished wardrobe. Hoseok oohed and aahed, reaching across the table to strap it on Seokjin’s left wrist for him. Giggling, Y/N admired the way it looked on his slim wrist, leaning against his arm while he went for the other two gifts; several sweaters and shirts in various shades of pinks and neutrals, a pretty set of silver dangling earrings (Y/N noticed that he had two lobe piercings on his left ear, but didn’t have any earrings to put through them), and a set of brand-new Japanese knives. He loved every single gift, gushing over the knives in particular, but he had to slap Hoseok’s hand away when the fox hybrid attempted to put the earrings on Seokjin.

Once the cake was eaten and plates were cleared away, Jeongguk and Namjoon both began to grow antsy, probably hoping to leave soon and get back to their routines. She handed her car keys to Taehyung beside her so he could pull the car around– he was the only one Y/N was confident that he knew how to drive, and Namjoon was known to speed– everyone following the Kodiak hybrid outside. Yoongi had long since returned from the bathroom, but once he saw that it was just Seokjin and Y/N waiting at the table to pay the bill, he too went out to the car.

“Thank you, Y/N. Today was…” Seokjin trailed off, like he was at a loss for words. They were standing by the bar, waiting for his leftover cake to be boxed up, Seokjin straightening out Y/N’s coat and making sure it was clasped correctly. “Perfect.”

“My Seokjinnie,” Y/N cooed, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in chest. She felt him purring, his own arms coiling around her back, rubbing circles over her coat. “I have one more thing for you.”

Pulling away, she chuckled at the look of bewilderment lighting up his features, Y/N reaching into the pocket of her coat for an envelope, offering it to him with a wink. Carefully, Seokjin tore the envelope open, fishing out the two pieces of paper from within and turning them over. His eyes scanned the text, his pupils blowing out wide and mouth dropping open once he registered exactly what he was holding.

“A cooking class,” Seokjin breathed, cheeks turning bright pink. “At Eataly?”

“Yeah! I heard the classes there are awesome, and in that class you get to have wine pairings with whatever you cook, you learn about the regions in Italy where the dishes come from. You’ve been so into cooking lately, and I thought the class would be perfect for you, especially with the wine pairing aspect,” Y/N explained, Seokjin hanging on every word and reading the tickets over and over. “It’s in February. I got two tickets, so you can take whoever you like. Hoseok, Yoongi, Joonie, it’s your choice!”

Seokjin froze, a curious look in his eyes, tucking the tickets back into the envelope and reaching for Y/N’s hand again.

“You don’t wanna come with me?” Seokjin squeezed her hand, a frown on his face for the first time that day. Blinking, Y/N made a noise of surprise.

“Me? You want me to take the class with you?” Y/N asked stupidly, Seokjin furiously nodding and his ears perking up.

“I don’t want to take it with anyone but you,” Seokjin confirmed resolutely, taking his cake box from a waitress ogling him without so much of a glance in her direction. Heart soaring upon hearing those words, Y/N couldn’t help but give him another tight hug.

“Okay, I’ll go with you. Can’t wait,” Y/N agreed, mouth full of his felt coat.

Seokjin just grinned brilliantly, leaving her embrace, tugging her towards the door, where her Land Cruiser was double-parked with the rest of the hybrids.

“Let’s go home,” Seokjin held the door to the restaurant open for her, uttering the statement like it had great meaning to him.

Even though she shouldn’t have, she let Taehyung drive home, Yoongi sitting beside him, while Y/N squeezed into the backseat between Namjoon and Seokjin. It was halfway back to the house when she realized Taehyung wasn’t using GPS; he knew where home was by memory, or perhaps by heart.

“It’s just a piano lesson, just act natural, like nothing’s wrong,” Y/N glared at herself in her bathroom mirror, pinching her own cheeks to bring life back into her complexion. “Just act like you aren’t in love with the teacher.”

Groaning, Y/N switched off the bathroom light, feeling a touch ill. She had barely spoken more than a handful of words to Yoongi in over a week, nerves still too raw. Last week, she skipped her lesson, not even bringing it up to the leopard hybrid, and spent much of that Friday out in the stable with Jimin taking care of the animals. That week, however, she ironically decided to face the music and resume with the lessons, an attempt to grasp a sense of normalcy between her and Yoongi.

Y/N paused before she left her bedroom, shooting her crumpled sheets a dirty look. Sleep still evaded her, and her dreams had been getting more and more vivid and taunting, the locked memory of her first meeting with Yoongi driving her insane even while unconscious. Growling, she left her room, taking a peek into Namjoon’s bedroom to find it empty, disappointment flooding through her. He must have been in his trailer, where he and Jeongguk had been hanging out recently like a pair of Ghostbusters.

She could hear a movie going on in the parlor, but she didn’t stop by to see what was on or who was watching, not wanting to drag her feet any longer. Y/N knew that Yoongi wasn’t there; he spent most of his time those days in the music room with the doors shut. Poor Taehyung couldn’t even use the record player all week.

Crawling up the stairs, once she reached the room at the end of the hall, she knocked on the closed doors. Of course, he knew that it was her, but there was still a chance that he wouldn’t open up. As the door opened, her heart throbbed at the sight of him– similarly tired looking, just like her. Yoongi stepped aside, letting her into the room, before promptly shutting the both of them into the silent room.

The room was a mess, sheet music strewn everywhere, a throw blanket tossed messily over the loveseat, several dirty mugs on the coffee table. She half-turned, too grief-stricken to face him fully, she gestured around the room.

“Have you been sleeping in here?” Y/N managed, picking a crumpled piece of sheet music off of the ground, instantly recognizing the writing on the paper to be in Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi ran a hand over his face, his clothing all wrinkled and pen ink covering his fingers. “Um, I guess as long as it’s comfortable…”

“What do you want?” Yoongi asked softly, Y/N flinching at the question like she was burned with a fire poker.

“I just wanted to ask… If we could have a lesson? If you still want to teach me? I understand if you don’t,” Y/N felt her throat grow sore from trying to keep down tears, feeling like a giant crybaby.

Yoongi grunted, trudging over to the piano, pushing sheet music off of the bench and sitting down.

“Come,” Yoongi patted the bench, avoiding her eyes, tail wrapping around his waist snugly.

Y/N’s legs moved on their own accord, perching on the edge of the bench as far away from him as she could accomplish, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by touching him. Scanning the sheet music in front of her, already able to read it pretty well thanks to his vigorous teaching style, she heard the notes in her head as her eyes roamed over the notes.

“Is this…?” Y/N timidly pointed to the paper, unable to look at him whatsoever. This was a terrible mistake.

“It’s your song,” Yoongi gruffly admitted, his voice coming out strained. “I can teach you.”

Nodding, she was surprised she was able to keep the waterworks at bay, Yoongi launching into his lesson patiently. Y/N was leagues better and playing than she was months ago, so Yoongi hardly had to correct her or fix her hand placements, but the air in the room was suffocating her. Being so close to him, so close yet emotionally miles apart, had the queasy feeling in her gut growing by the second.

She made it halfway through the song, but the more complicated section of the piece was starting to trip her up. Fumbling through the same measure four times in a row, she huffed in annoyance, considering throwing in the towel for the night.

“No, try again. Like this,” Yoongi snapped her out of her self-criticism, gently rearranging her fingers on the keys to form the correct chord, the contact shocking her so much that she yelped, her vision going black immediately.

“Give me your number,” the girl– Y/N– demanded, apparently trying to sound confident, but her alcohol-flushed cheeks were countering her desire to seem intimidating.

Yoongi chuckled, for what felt like the first time in years, watching the girl stick out her arm and using her free hand to dig around in her purse for something. With a triumphant grin, she produced a pen from her bag, shoving it in Yoongi’s palm.

“Give me your number, Yoongi,” Y/N repeated, waving her bare forearm in his face.

“Silly girl. Why don’t I just put it in your contacts?” Yoongi teased, though he was secretly delighted that she wanted to keep in touch with him. He prayed that you’d be the one to remember.

“My phone died,” Y/N pouted– oh, she didn’t know how irresistible she was. “Just write it on my arm, I’ll plug it in to my phone tomorrow, I swear.”

She didn’t know that promises, when it came to The Black Lodge, often disappeared into thin air. She didn’t know that there was a strong possibility that come morning, she’d forget she was even at a bar, that she met him. He shook his head, as if to clear the thoughts from it, reaching out to hold her wrist steady, uncapping the pen with his teeth. Yoongi could tell she was holding her breath, her heart rate picking up as he copied his cell phone number onto her smooth flesh.

“What time is it? I have work in the morning…” Y/N looked regretful, like she couldn’t bear to leave the bar. It pulled at his heartstrings, embarrassingly enough.

“Midnight,” Yoongi checked his watch before looking back at her face, trying to memorize every inch of it. “You should probably get going. I’ll call you a cab.”

Yoongi let Y/N cling to his arm, a little unstable on her heels, walking her to the back entrance of the bar. He felt the ache of having to say goodbye to the first person who made him feel like a real person in years, but there was nothing he could do– it’s not like he could lock her away in his apartment upstairs just so he could have someone to come home to. Breathing in deeply, he knew that he’d miss her scent as soon as she’d get in the cab and drive away.

Leaning by the door, watching for the cab out of the window, Yoongi tried to appear nonchalant, but he was truthfully shaken. Y/N was talking about a concert that she wanted to go to with him the following week, an indie band he never heard of. If you remembered him the next day, there was a possibility he’d have actual plans with someone. Someone interested in getting to know him.

“Hey Yoongi?” Y/N brought him out of his reverie, frowning as he spotted her cab waiting outside.

“What’s that, silly girl?”

“Can you kiss me?” She asked quietly, Yoongi positive that only a hybrid could hear her with how low she spoke. “Please?”

Stunned, Yoongi swallowed thickly, forgetting all about the cabbie waiting outside and honking furiously. She looked shy, and judging by her scent, she was anxious. Stepping closer, Yoongi’s body moved on its own, his hands slightly shaking as they reached to cup her delicate jaw. Y/N sucked in a breath, gaze dropping to his mouth, before her pretty eyes fluttered shut. Stooping, Yoongi shut his own eyes, his lips finding purchase on hers, her sweet sigh being swallowed up by him willingly. She gripped his wrists, still cradling her face, her teeth nipping lightly at his lower lip. Y/N pulled away all too soon, looking dazed, Yoongi equally as breathless. She reached up, flicking the angel wing earring dangling from his ear, giggling.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, angel.”

With that, she disappeared into the night, and the call never came.

“Y/N? Y/N, sweetheart, are you okay? What happened?” Yoongi, his voice somehow far away but definitely panicked, drew her out of whatever vision had taken over her body. She could feel herself being held, propped up against a heaving chest, a trembling hand cupping her cheek. “Y/N, please baby, open your eyes!”

Wheezing, Y/N could feel consciousness coming back to her piece by piece, the crack in Yoongi’s voice devastating her. Peeling her eyes open, she was met with Yoongi staring back at her, mortification and fear all over his face, ears pressed so flat to his skull she almost couldn’t see them.

“What happened?” Y/N echoed Yoongi’s question back to him, her own voice scratchy. Yoongi, despite himself, pushed hair out of Y/N’s face, his whole body coiled with stress.

“I don’t know. You passed out for a few seconds, but you s-sounded like you were having a terrible dream,” Yoongi’s voice cracked again, still holding her close to his chest.

“I– it wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t a dream. I think,” Y/N spoke slowly, like her mouth was full of molasses. “I think it was a vision, like the ones my mom has.”

Y/N felt sapped of energy, entirely sagging into Yoongi’s embrace, forgetting all about how estranged they had been for weeks. When he put his hand over her’s, she got the vision.

“What did you see, sweetheart?” Yoongi seemed to calm down a bit, though still held onto her like she was going to dissolve into smoke.

“The bar, you and me. But from your perspective. Our kiss,” Y/N whispered, trying to replay the vision in her head over and over again, trying to remember how Yoongi’s lips felt on her.

“You– you remembered?” Yoongi exclaimed, color flooding his cheeks. “Wait, what do you mean, from my perspective?”

“Like I was seeing it from your eyes,” Y/N explained tiredly, slumping further into his arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you the next day, angel.”

Yoongi went ramrod straight, a hiss coming from the back of his throat as he maneuvered Y/N upright by her upper arms so he could look into her eyes.

“You need to stop apologizing to me,” Yoongi breathed, his eyebrows pulling together, pained. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” Y/N’s voice broke, moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes.

“How many times am I going to make you cry?” Yoongi used a thumb to brush away the tears under her eyes, his anguished expression becoming even more pronounced.

“I-I get that you don’t like me like that, Yoongi, b-but–”

“Y/N, I love you. I think I fell in love with you a year ago,” Yoongi confessed desperately, his other hand coming up to cup the side of her face. “As cheesy as that is. I love you, and it’s killing me.”

The world stopped, her heart stopped, and everything around her ceased to exist except for Yoongi. Tears drying up as if by command, Y/N searched for any sign of deception on his face or hidden in his body language, but came up with nothing.

“You love me, too?” Y/N whimpered, heart aching from something else now.

Yoongi leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes falling shut as he exhaled shakily. She twisted her fists into the fabric of his tee shirt, craving his warmth, savoring how close he was.

“So fucking much,” Yoongi confirmed, voice above a whisper. “I love you so fucking much, baby.”

“Yoongi…” Y/N breathed, heart about to beat out of her chest. “Love you…”

With a purr rounding out into a growl, Yoongi moved one of his hands to the small of Y/N’s waist, dragging her closer to him. Inches away, danger, but also tenderness, filled his hazel eyes. He was beautiful.

“Kiss me,” Yoongi’s barely audible request sent fireworks off in her gut, his eyes shutting again as he nudged his nose against hers. “Please.”

How could she possibly deny him, her Yoongi, her love, when he asked her so sweetly?

Pulse racing, Y/N released her hold on his shirt, tucking a long strand of jet black hair behind his ear, humming when he shuddered, placing her hand on the side of his neck, his own pulse thrumming as fast as hers was.

“Please, baby,” Yoongi repeated, the pet name making her stomach flip. Without any more hesitation, Y/N leaned up, perfectly slotting her lips against Yoongi’s, gentle, slow, and impossibly sweet.

His lips, full and soft, were yielding against hers, letting her take the lead, his hands remaining still– one holding her face, the other on her waist. Locking lips for several moments, innocent and so full of love, Y/N drew away, winded and over the moon. Yoongi stayed close, eyes lidded and breathing labored, before he spoke again.

“More. Kiss me more.”

Yoongi pulled her into his lap, his tail curling around her waist, one arm around her back and the other traveling down to the outside of her thigh. Y/N, growing shy, gave him a simple peck, face on fire. She never imagined that this was how her night was going to go, but she couldn’t even remember when they weren’t like this before. Not satisfied with the measly peck she planted on the corner of his mouth, Yoongi chased after her, gripping her jaw tightly and descending his lips on her once more, Y/N gasping in surprise. Yoongi took that opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, swallowing the startled moan she made hungrily, the tip of his tongue flicking against the roof of her mouth.

Melting in his grip, Y/N kissed him back with renewed vigor, a hand moving to tangle in his silky hair, pleased that he took over the kiss, lungs screaming for air as Yoongi sucked on her lower lip with a purr. As if sensing that she needed to catch her breath, Yoongi released her lip with a pop, his mouth peppering kisses along her sensitive jaw voraciously, hand on her thigh rubbing up and down. Sighing blissfully, Y/N’s head tilted back when his lips trailed to her neck, mouth wet and kisses searing her flesh.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” Yoongi groaned into her neck, lightly sucking on a spot behind her ear that had her mewling. “Let me mark you…”

Words failing her, Y/N nodded desperately, eager to feel his teeth sink into her flesh. Chuckling darkly, Yoongi started muttering sweet nothings, dragging his tongue up the length of her throat. The hand on her thigh moved again, this time to grab a loose hold of the base of her neck, Y/N’s eyes rolling back into her skull with the weight of his palm in such a vulnerable spot.

“Hold onto me, my love,” Yoongi murmured in her ear, Y/N obediently tightening her grip around Yoongi’s waist, whining at the sensation of his teeth tracing the vein fluttering with her erratic pulse making her see stars behind her eyelids.

With one more open-mouthed kiss to her throat, Yoongi bit down, Y/N crying out his name, never feeling more alive than in that moment, in his arms, teeth in her neck. Tail protectively curling even tighter around her waist, Yoongi’s purrs were growing so loud, he sounded more predatory than ever. She didn’t know if it was the fact that he loved her, that he was kissing her, or the the side effects of scenting, but Y/N swore her soul ascended as he removed his teeth from the mark, a sensual swipe of his tongue sweeping over the wound to cauterize it.

Growing entirely limp in his arms, Y/N barely had the energy to kiss him back when his lips returned to hers, whimpering at the tangy taste of her own blood on his tongue. And then, all at once, his lips were gone.

“I don’t want to get carried away, sweetheart,” Yoongi’s voice was strained, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead with a hum.

“What if I do?” Y/N countered dopily, her head full of cotton and Yoongi. Yoongi barked out a hearty laugh, unable to help himself by pecking her lips once more, smoothing her hair into place. She probably looked like she got attacked.

“Not tonight, love,” Yoongi helped her stand, snickering at her whining protests. “Let’s take it slow, hmm? You need to get some rest, proper rest. So do I.”

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N admitted begrudgingly, though she wanted nothing more than Yoongi kissing her senseless all night, her body was sagging with exhaustion. “Your edginess has been keeping me up for nights on end.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Yoongi apologized sincerely, his ears flattening against his skull again. Before he opened up the soundproofed door, he stopped, lifting her hand to his lips to brush a kiss over her knuckles. “I love you.”

Realizing, until they figured out how to tell the others, they’d have to keep their affections to themselves, Y/N pouted even further. Now that she had a taste of him, she was insatiable.

“I love you, too, angel.”

Silently, Yoongi walked Y/N to her bedroom, stealing one last kiss after making sure the hallway was clear, Y/N floating on air as she sunk onto her bed, Yoongi shutting the door and leaving her to relive everything that happened mentally.

On her nightstand, where she had left it, her phone chimed, making her flinch and swear. Blindly reaching for it, still a little hazy from the scenting and makeout session, she unlocked her phone, only to feel dread wash over her as she read the text that she received.

Hoseok 🦊: What the hell is going on with you and Yoongi?

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koqabear · 2 years

Text

Only You, Darling.

♡Playlist♡

Love is a sweet, fragile thing. Never a thing that should be forced or manipulated— but they just can’t help it. You’re so sweet and pliant, a perfect angel that falls into their every trick with ease. Love can never be forced— but it can be molded into the perfect puzzle piece, ready to fit into theirs with ease.

beomgyu, yeonjun x reader, ft. Soobin & Jaemin of NCT.

genre: yandere, f2l, s2l, psychological horror, thriller, slowburn, angst fluff...? smut

Word Count:43.8K

Warnings:cursing, mentions of food/alcohol, unrequited love, pining, possessiveness, overprotectiveness, jealousy, mc is oblivious/trusting, hacking, stalking/harassment, toxic relationships, infidelity, lying, manipulation, brief sickness, nausea, mc cries a lot (for good reasons…) tracking, panic attacks, mc gets super paranoid n stressed, threats, arguing, violence, weapons, blood, injuries, MCD, subspace (not explicitly named), unhealthy (and healthy…?) coping mechanisms, power imbalance, recurring nightmares, hallucinations, PTSD, forced isolation, Stockholm syndrome (?), guilt tripping, use of collars, brief starvation, choking, guns, vomiting. Smut warnings:fingering, protected sex, voyeurism (non-consensual), masturbation, use of blindfolds, oral (fem rec.) multiple orgasms, threesome, degradation, praise, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, sloppy seconds, overstimulation, rough sex. Notes: give it up for the absolute failure that was me trying to release this yesterday. A special thank you to all my readers who remained patient with my bs, I love you all. (ps, the playlist songs are in order!)

This story contains dark themes. Read at your own discretion. This story is purely for entertainment purposes, and do not reflect the idols true morals or character.

No matter what they say— I’ll never meet another you.

Yeonjun was impossibly in love with you.

Simple old you, his childhood friend that managed to stick with him through all the ups and downs. Who put up with his antics, and always managed to trail behind him despite his intense popularity and the attention that was always on him— something that you’ve never been particularly fond of yourself. (At least, that’s what you said, despite your magnetic personality.)

It was a wonder to him, how you still allowed him to follow you around, sticking to you like glue, unable to keep his eyes off you. Just like now— you had yet to look up from your phone, oblivious to the world around you as you nodded along to whatever song was blasting in your headphones.

God, you were so cute. It was a thought Yeonjun always found himself thinking; yet, despite his longing glances and soft smiles that always remained plastered whenever he was around you, you never noticed a thing— and maybe that made him like you a little bit more.

“___,” he said, smiling softly as you had yet to notice him, still lost in whatever it was you had been looking at. He frowned, irked at your lack of attention as he leaned forward, chest pressing against the wood of the library’s table as he tried again. Your name slipped past him once more in a gentle voice, his eyes boring into your skin as he waited for you to respond.

Nothing.

“___.” He watched the way you jumped in your seat, eyes wide as you finally looked up at Yeonjun. The said boy leans back, huffing harshly as he watches you hastily pause your music, pulling your headphones out your ears as you sheepishly look at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice you,” you admit, gaze downcast from the way he narrows his eyes at you, annoyed at how long it took you to pay attention to him. He doesn’t believe you, and you can see it on his face as he raises a brow at you, arms crossed as he tilts his head.

“I’m serious, jun! I just thought it was another person who wanted to sit here,” you pout, fiddling nervously with your headphones as you try your best to meet his gaze. He can only scoff at that, rolling his eyes as he looks off into a random section of books— he’s afraid that he might give in if you look at him like that any longer.

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” Yeonjun warned, finally setting aside his anger as he looks back at you, the familiar teasing making you shake your head in amusement, “you could’ve been in danger.”

“Yeah right,” it’s your turn to scoff as you begin to put away your things that had been scattered all along the desk— you had been trying to take a break from studying, but the moment you reached for your phone, it had all been over for you.

“Like anything interesting would happen to me,” you mused, unaware of the way Yeonjun could only frown at the thought. Your head snapped up at the sound of him standing, the frown still etched on his features as he reached to take your bag from you, slinging it over his shoulders before you could complain. Taking your hand, he leads you out of the library, fingers laced tightly with yours as he scolds you on your way out.

“You never know,” he says, pulling you closer at the very thought. Rolling your eyes, you bump your shoulder with his, a silent reassurance as you allow him to lead you along the campus, probably leading you back to the small diner where the two of you had spent most of your life.

Yeonjun had been with you longer than you could remember— you were practically childhood friends. You had always found him by your side throughout all of middle and high school, always in the background of your memories despite you never really talking to him much. He was always entangled within your friend groups, and before you knew it, the large circle of people quickly dwindled to just the two of you as everyone went their separate ways— leaving the nice coincidence of you attending the same college as him.

With nothing left but the familiar face that was Yeonjun, it was inevitable that the two of you would end up so close; you had always found yourself coming back to him when in need of comfort, the itch to find a reminder of the small hometown you both moved away from leading straight to him— and he welcomed you with open arms each time.

To you, Yeonjun was like home. He was warm and comforting, a reminder that you always had something safe and protective to come back to. He was the greatest friend you could ask for.

And he hated it.

He resented the label silently, always being bitterly pushed aside whenever a new guy would find interest in you. He wishes for nothing more than for you to rid him of the chains you’ve trapped him in, restricting him from ever allowing you to see a future with him.

He wishes you could see him as something more than a friend, but he would never admit it to you; he could never imagine losing you— the very thought made him sick to his stomach.

So instead, he allowed himself to wallow in shame on the sidelines, left with nothing but a constant reminder that you would never see him in a different light.

-♡♡♡-

Beomgyu was also impossibly in love with you.

He loves everything about you, from the small ticks you get when you’ve been sitting for too long, to the way you twirl your hair in your fingers when you concentrate. You’re perfect in every way, a gorgeous angel put in his path to pull him away from the dark corners of his restless mind.

He knows exactly when it all began— unlike Yeonjun, who still seems to be in denial of his feelings. You were always so sweet to him, a regular at the library he worked at, the endless piles of books you would take back and forth allowing him to strike up small conversations with you whenever he would check your books out. You would go home, and it wouldn’t be long until Beomgyu would see you coming back in.

If he was lucky enough, you would spend hours in the library, pouring endlessly over essays and assignments that never seemed to end with you, your figure always hunched over your trusty computer— that was where Beomgyu got his first opening.

“No no no, this can’t be happening,” you’re muttering quietly to yourself, tucked away in a secluded corner of the library, hands frantically hovering over the keyboard as you try to fix your computer, which froze before you could save your essay. You’re practically on the verge of tears, the frustration building up inside you so intensely as you slide a finger hopelessly on the mousepad, the last inkling of hope fading inside you as a frozen screen is all you get in return.

Beomgyu is a witness to it all— what started as an innocent favor to reshelve books quickly became an excuse to see you, inevitably rooted to the spot as he watched you peacefully work all alone— he always saw you with other people on campus, so to be able to see you alone like this, was much more personal to him.

He frowned, watching the way you’re practically pulling your hair out—his heart is pounding against his chest, and before he can overthink things, he’s approaching you shyly.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

You’re caught off guard at the sudden question, your head snapping up as you’re met with the sight of the cute librarian that you always see here— well, this is embarrassing. You’re reluctant as you explain your situation, brushing it off with a laugh as you solemnly glance back at your computer— with a wince, you notice the way the screen turns black.

“I know my way around computers pretty well. Maybe I could fix it?”

Those words really shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up as much as they did, but you couldn’t help it, not with the way this cute worker is offering his services, his eyes that shine under his glasses shyly flitting away as you lean towards him eagerly.

“Really?” A part of you can’t help but be naive as he nods, but the stubborn skepticism inside you crawls back out as you lean back in your chair, eyeing him warily as you ask, “How much will you charge?”

“Ah, no— I won’t charge you, really…” you’re sold on his words— if it doesn’t work, then you’ll go to an actual professional. But for now, you’re motioning to the chair across from you, watching as he quickly glances around the area before he sits down, hesitant in his movements.

Slowly, you hand your laptop to him, watching his every move as you patiently wait for him to do his thing. You can’t understand what he’s doing, but you’re oddly convinced as his eyes narrow at the sight of your device, already focused on his task as he goes quiet. He doesn’t even spare you a glance.

But what you don’t see is Beomgyu’s shaky hands and stuttering breaths— he’s nervous. He can feel your stare on him, and it’s making this simple task seem impossible to him. Your eyes are curious as you watch him, and he can’t help but be endeared at the sight. He’s peeking at you from the corner of his eye, brain short-circuiting at the fact that he has all of your attention on him, and only him.

You're looking away at the sound of your phone buzzing on the table, and Beomgyu can’t help but frown at the way your face lights up entirely at the sight of the caller ID. He wishes he had more self-restraint, but he can’t help it as he listens to your hushed whispers on the phone, watching as you lean back in your chair and speak fondly into the phone.

“Hi junie,” you greet, your voice sweet and affectionate at the nickname. Yeonjun. Beomgyu frowns as he realizes who you were talking to.

The man was always with you— even when you would come into the library alone, it wouldn’t be long before Yeonjun would be walking in, eager eyes searching for your figure before he clung to you helplessly. It annoyed Beomgyu to no end— seeing him there, with you, allowing himself to be as touchy and as clingy as he pleased while you sat oblivious to it all.

On days when he came in to interrupt your studies, Beomgyu would quickly find himself in the back offices, doing boring paperwork to get away from the sight. He would grit his teeth and wouldn’t come out of the secluded space until half an hour passed; that was usually how much longer you would stay whenever the annoying man would appear.

And he would check out your books, as usual— but he would remain silent, lips pressed in a fine line as he would watch the way Yeonjun would try to consume all your attention, stealing any precious time he might have had with you.

“Yeah, I am,” you replied, your leg beginning to bounce softly as you spoke on the phone— one of your habits Beomgyu always took note of. “No, I didn’t see it. My computer froze, what’d you send?”

Beomgyu was on autopilot by now, your computer already restarting as he saw your account— you didn’t have a password set up.

So naive, he frowns, and before he can second guess his actions, he’s logging into your account.

This is wrong, Beomgyu thinks, the thought a small ripple in the grand expanse of his mind as he sidetracks from checking to see if you had any viruses— and goes straight to the notification that pops up.

He shouldn’t be doing this— you’re right there… he reminds himself, but a quick glance at you and he sees that you’re too distracted to see what he’s doing. You’re still on the phone, your voice barely making a sound as you stare out the window, seemingly searching for something.

Or rather, someone. Beomgyu realizes bitterly. And with that surge of anger, he clicks on the file that has been shared with you.

It’s nothing special— some pictures from a vacation you took, he assumes. But at that moment, Beomgyu is sitting so close to you, yet he feels as though you’re miles away from him, practically unreachable as you continue to smile sweetly at your conversation, your eyes crinkling cutely.

And as he scrolls through them slowly, he finds himself frowning at the sight. Most— if not all— of the pictures are riddled with Yeonjun. Truly, what could he have possibly expected? But something about seeing you, happy and energetic—your skin practically glowing as pictures of you on the beach and tropical areas riddle the folder— makes him seethe.

Because there’s no doubt that it was him alongside you all along. And all those pictures of you, dressed in flowy garments and revealing summer clothes, were taken by him. He’s in some of them, pulling you close in each one without fail. If Beomgyu hadn’t known any better, he would’ve even thought that you two were together.

“Oh, you’re here? I’m in the back of the library, by the historical section,” you say, and Beomgyu is quick to exit out of the folder, his fingers twitching as he catches sight of a picture of you and Yeonjun, your eyes shut tightly and a grin on your face as Yeonjun plants a firm kiss on your cheek, the setting sun behind you casting a glow on your figures.

He’s back to his task as he does a quick check through your computer— seeing if any sketchy files have been downloaded, or if you had any viruses. Sure enough, he finds some, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary as he takes quick care of it, placing protective measures on your computer as he tries to get the album of pictures out of his mind.

But for some reason, he can’t. And it becomes even harder to do so when he hears footsteps coming his way, your figure perking up as you wave him over happily. It’s hard to forget, and it’s even harder to ignore the burning stare that he feels on his back as the man walks closer. Beomgyu doesn’t bother looking up, but he knows that Yeonjun is looking down at him curiously, and he can practically hear the question that is running through the man’s mind.

Who was he? Why did he have your laptop?

“He’s fixing my laptop,” you grin, eyes shining under the lights of the building as you look up at Yeonjun from where you sit. It’s instant, the way Yeonjun’s face changes as his attention is brought onto you, a smile tugging at his lips as he nods in understanding.

“I see,” Yeonjun hums, but it’s a wonder how you don’t notice the blatant dislike in his eyes as they flick back to Beomgyu. Yeonjun shifts, now looking over Beomgyu’s shoulder as he watches his actions closely, not bothering to hide his skepticism as he asks, “So what’d you find?”

“Couple of viruses, nothing too harmful,” Beomgyu responds quickly, beginning to explain what happened to your laptop. He knows neither of you understands what he’s saying, his complex terms lost on your heads as he tries to not laugh at the way you feign complete understanding as you nod along politely.

“I’ve also installed some protection software and adblockers, so hopefully that should help,” he adds, glancing up to see you grinning happily at him— at him, for once. You’re looking straight into his eyes, and Beomgyu can’t help the way he feels a childlike bashfulness take over him, a shaky hand slowly closing the laptop before he’s sliding it back to you.

“You should really add a password to it, by the way. I’m sorry I got into your account, but I promise I didn’t look through anything,” you don’t even second guess his words, and Beomgyu wishes he could feel guilt for his actions. But when Yeonjun is already beginning to whisk you away, any remorse he may have felt is quickly swept away.

It happens so quickly, and Beomgyu is alone again before he knows it.

-♡♡♡-

“That guy from the library— do you know him?”

You currently stand in line at a boba shop as you stare up at the menu, snapped out of your daze at Yeonjun’s words. Reluctantly, you glance away from the endless options to meet your friend's eyes, sending him a confused look as you take in just how serious he was.

“Not really… We‘re not like, friends, I guess. But I always see him when I go to the library, and we’ve talked a couple of times. Why?”

Yeonjun wishes you would stop being so trusting of strangers— it was one of the things that always kept him on guard whenever you hung out together. He resists the urge to run a hand through his hair at your words, already feeling his stress spike up from your confession.

“So you just let that random guy go through your laptop like that?” Yeonjun says, unable to hide his frustration. You’re surprised, eyes widening as he suddenly snaps at you— why would he be so worked up about this? Sure, you took a risk trusting him like that, but it all turned out well in the end; free of charge, too.

“I mean, he fixed it, didn’t he?” You retaliate, stepping forward as another person finishes their order, “Plus, it’s not like I have anything worth seeing or stealing on there— and I was right there the whole time, watching him.”

You can tell he’s still irritated by the situation, but you’re quick to ignore him as you turn to the worker to give her your order, blocking out Yeonjun’s persistent stare.

He would never admit it, but the only thing that bothered him was the sight of you wholeheartedly trusting a stranger— plus, the sight of another man sitting across from you so comfortably spiked Yeonjun’s heart rate for a second. He can tell that you’re annoyed with him as you pay for your order, not even bothering to argue with his offer to pay for you as you go pick out a table to sit at.

He’s left alone for a moment, and as Yeonjun absentmindedly orders his usual, he can’t help but think back to the way the man sitting across from you seemed to be in awe of your very presence, his sweet gestures and shy demeanor telling Yeonjun everything he needed to know.

A sudden urge to visit you at the library more often hits him.

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun has always been too ambitious for his own good— Beomgyu is quick to realize this.

He’s a selfish man, always wanting you for himself yet never really making a move in fear of losing you— he’s a coward. His hard work will chalk up to nothing if all he can bring himself to do is follow you around like an idiot.

The sight has always been quite funny to Beomgyu. The boy has never been secretive about his feelings for you, yet you’re still painfully oblivious— Beomgyu likes to think you’re only pretending, and you don’t like the boy back— but he knows it’s not an act; that’s just how you are.

You’re oblivious to the world around you; you have yet to become aware of the boy in your ten am class that always itches to sit near you— of course, you’re also painfully unaware of the way Beomgyu shares this class with you, and uses it as an advantage to be able to watch you peacefully, away from any interruptions as he sits a few rows behind you.

The boy in your ten am class is itching to sit near you again. But this time, something’s different; Beomgyu frowns deeply as he watches the boy approach you. Beomgyu watches from afar, watching the way the boy meekly points to the seat next to you— he grits his teeth when you nod happily.

Honestly, Beomgyu shouldn’t be one to judge— he can’t bring himself to come up to you either. But he still allows himself to be pissed as he watches the two of you begin to talk; it’s even worse when you laugh softly, beginning to get friendlier as you lean into him.

The class is ruined. Beomgyu can’t bring himself to process a word that’s said by his professor, his eyes inevitably trailing back to your figure as he feels another surge of annoyance go through him at the sight of the boy next to you leaning in to whisper something— you laugh softly at his words.

And even when class ends, Beomgyu is quick to notice the way the boy still lingers around you; Jaemin, his name was. The sudden memory of who he was hits him, and it isn’t long before he’s walking out of class, accidentally trailing the two of you as he watches you continue your conversations happily.

He’s surprised to find Jaemin still stuck by your side by the time he spots Yeonjun in the distance— and is even more surprised to find you warming up to the man beside you so quickly. You’re playful… flirtatious, even. And with that single thought, Beomgyu feels his stomach twist harshly.

And he knows he’s not the only one who feels this way; he’s fallen behind, watching from afar as Yeonjun’s body language shifts at the sight of you with yet another man— he’s stiff, rigid almost, his eyes hardening as he watches Jaemin input his number into your phone. But he’s left powerless, forced to watch as Jaemin takes a step closer to your heart than he ever will.

You’re slow to notice him; that’s the final nail in the coffin. You seem to be quite reluctant to leave Jaemin, Yeonjun notes bitterly. He can almost taste the bitterness on his tongue as he watches the way you smile sweetly to your classmate, waving him goodbye before you’re turning back to him, the dreamy look in your eye rooting Yeonjun to the spot.

A look that you’ll never direct to him.

“He seems nice,” Yeonjun offhandedly comments, and he watches with regret as you curl up shyly at his words, your eyes sparkling as you bat at his arm playfully.

“Yeah, I’ve had a crush on him since forever,” you’re whispering the words, but it all sounds deafening to him as he watches the way you giggle at your own sentence. “I can’t believe he came up to me. And he gave me his number!”

Even from a distance, Beomgyu can tell that you’ve said something that has broken the boy beside you— but oddly enough, it only serves to brighten up his day a little.

“Are we still on to try out that new restaurant tomorrow?” A small part of Yeonjun hopes that you’ll still have him as a priority in his heart. But when he sees you throw him an apologetic smile, he can’t bring himself to be surprised.

“He asked me out on a date,” you say, sincerely apologetic as you watch the way your friend slumps down at your words. You’re quick to console him, grabbing onto his hand as you hold it tightly between your own, looking into his eyes as you say, “I promise I’ll make it up to you. Rain check?”

“Rain check,” Yeonjun reluctantly grits out, unable to ignore the way his heart softens at the way you happily thank him, continuing your ramblings on how excited you are to finally have a shot with the cute boy in your ten am class.

Beomgyu was right— because even now, as you go on about what outfits you could wear tomorrow, all Yeonjun can think of is how he can turn all your attention back on him.

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun always thought of himself as a patient man.

Hell, he’s had to deal with his love for you for years— and he’s still hopeful for a happy ending.

Yet, he’s not sure if he can go on playing the long game. Countless attempts to woo you have always failed, so to see you wrapped around Jaemin’s finger so quickly makes him blinded with rage. It’s pathetic; Yeonjun knows this. Yet he’s unable to move on— it’s impossible for him, and despite his past attempts to get you out of his head, it’s plain to see that he’ll always come back to you.

Even now, when you spot Yeonjun as you pass along the sidewalk, and can only shoot him a bright smile as Jaemin pulls you along to the restaurant you mentioned the boy would take you to yesterday.

You’re too oblivious for your own good, Yeonjun thinks sadly, shaking his head at the fact that you didn’t even bother questioning why he might be in the area, most likely chalking it all up to coincidence— it wasn’t as if he had any malicious intentions, right?

That’s what he’d like to think, but as he lingers in front of the restaurant, able to spot your figure easily as you’re finally seated, he can’t seem to ignore the anger and jealousy that’s directed towards the man across from you.

And that would make two.

Because Beomgyu has spotted Yeonjun, the shopping bag from the bookstore crinkling tightly in his hand as he finally spots what the man might be looking at— the anger only rises more when he takes in the audacity Yeonjun has to continue to follow you around.

His walk home is ruined. His steps are brisk and his jaw ticks with every thought that sends him back to the scene.

What a brute, Beomgyu thinks to himself, tossing his bag aside roughly as he enters his apartment. His whole mood has been ruined, because now he realized that he has not one, but two obstacles in the way of you.

There is never a moment when you’re alone. It’s a thought that sours Beomgyu’s thoughts, pacing back and forth in his room as he tries to cool down. What he would give to be able to see you, alone and at peace, for just a moment.

He paces along his desk, past his computer. Once, twice, three times, before he finally slows down his steps, hands that were restlessly running through his hair now frozen as an idea comes to him, like the gentle whisper begging him to give in to his desires.

He could watch you all he wanted.

Alone.

Beomgyu pushes the thought away— it was beyond disgusting. You trusted him wholeheartedly yesterday at the library, so for him to invade your privacy— to invade your life, was just cruel.

But he just couldn’t get the thought out of his head.

The whisper was consistent, a sweet voice that ate through his doubts. It opened his darkest secrets, indulging in his every hidden desire as he thought back to you. As he thought back to every memory, every interaction, every smile that you sent him.

He found himself hovering over his keyboard, mind on autopilot as he typed away.

It wasn’t easy. His stomach would twist and his mind would swim with nausea every time he was reminded of what he was doing, but it wasn’t long before the whispers in his mind overtook every doubt he had left.

The guilt was temporary. And before he knew it, he was met with a sight that wouldn’t be able to leave his mind for the next few nights; your room.

His hands were shaking and a shiver ran down his spine as he sat back, exhaling slowly as he took in the peaceful emptiness of it all. He took in every detail— the posters on the wall, the pattern of your curtains, the stuffed animals on your bed— it was all ingrained in his head in an instant.

He’s not sure how long he sat there, staring at your room with a dumbstruck look on his face. But it seems like it must’ve been an obscene amount of time, because he’s quickly snapping out of his daze at the sound of a door slamming.

It’s you, he quickly realizes, the sounds of your happy giggles sending flashes of hot nerves down his spine, his body stiffening with anticipation. He can hear the soft thumps of you stumbling around, your words slurred as you finally appear in the frame.

And so does Jaemin.

Beomgyu can feel his blood freeze as he watches it all unfold. You’re tipsy, uncoordinated, and clumsy as you allow Jaemin to push you onto the bed, laughing softly as he takes in your small squeal. He’s quick to get back on you, lips fervently attached to your skin as he sucks, tastes, and bites.

He can practically see the marks bloom already. Beomgyu is unsure of how he feels— and is surprised to find that rage is beginning to overwhelm him. Many emotions are swirling rampantly inside, ranging from jealousy to an undeniable want that shakes him.

It’s hard to look away. Even when he wants nothing more than to tear that man away from you, it’s hard. His throat is dry and his eyes are stuck on your figure, from the way you arch and lean into his every touch, to the way you shakily thread a hand into the man’s hair.

He can feel his hands shake as they rub against his thighs uneasily, his heart jumping as he listens to the surprised moan you loudly let out when Jaemin slips a hand under your waistband. Beomgyu can’t even bring himself to blink as he watches your every movement closely, taking in the way your hips roll and buck up into the man’s hands, his lips still on your skin as a trail of marks is left in his wake.

It’s hard to watch— but it’s even harder to look away. Especially when your brows twitch with concentration, your mouth falling open as you allow the man above you to roughly finger you, your soft pants and moans falling from your lips and putting Beomgyu in a trance.

You’re perfect, Beomgyu finds himself thinking, and without realizing it, his hand has found the outline of his hardened cock. He’s concentrated, eyes pinned on your hips to watch the sight of Jaemin’s fingers pounding into you so harshly.

The longer he watches, the longer he lets his imagination run astray— and it’s no longer Jaemin above you— it’s him. He’s the one who’s got you pinned, drinking up every moan and whimper that leaves your lips, teeth sinking into every possible place where you could be claimed as his.

Beomgyu’s pace on his cock is brutal, following along with the pace set, brows furrowed as his imagination runs wild. He’s the one who’s laughing at you cruelly, taking in the way your legs shut harshly against his hand, the other being used to pry you back open as he watches your face be overtaken by ecstasy.

Beomgyu’s hips are bucking up into his hand as he watches, slowing back down to nothing more than a teasing pace as he watches Jaemin kiss you roughly, your legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him in as you lose yourself in his lips. Beomgyu’s lip is caught in his teeth as Jaemin rolls on a condom, positioning himself between your legs as he allows himself to tease you, a grin on his face as he listens to your soft pleading.

And once more, it’s Beomgyu that finally enters you, taking no time to let you adjust— it’s rough, your yelp drowned out by the rest of your sounds that slip out uncontrollably, the pace that he set for you too much for you to keep up with. And he’s the one to whisper into your ear, only it’s nothing but praise that rolls off his tongue, sweet and never-ending as he brings you to end, allowing himself to indulge in you even as you slump with bliss.

Beomgyu’s eyes are screwed shut; his stomach feels heavy— this is wrong. So, so so wrong. It’s what his mind screams at him, the last sane part repeating the prayer over and over again in hopes to steer him away from this rabbit hole. His chest heaves, and as your sweet whimpers echo in his ears, he can feel the way that the last sane part of his mind is slowly shut down.

It’s hard to ignore how badly he wants you. Because in the end, when Beomgyu opens his eyes again, it’s just him, and you’re nowhere in sight.

-♡♡♡-

Beomgyu has fallen deeply into the rabbit hole.

He swears he didn’t intend it to turn this way— just watching you from the sidelines was more than enough. But now, because of his careless actions, he couldn’t bring himself to look in your direction without feeling a myriad of emotions.

It’s hard to continue the casual banter you have when you check out books; how was Beomgyu supposed to get your pretty sounds out of his head? He always tried his hardest to not stare at you too hard, but he swears his eyes just keep wandering down to your lips. Yet you’re here, smiling at him, not a care in the world as you check out the next book in the series you’re reading.

His hands are shaking— what would you think of him? If you knew what he had done, what he thought of you…

Beomgyu’s reluctant to watch you go, but he knows it’s for the best. He’s not sure he could control his heart any longer, his hands trembling and fumbling with the computer keys as he pathetically pretends as though he wasn’t following your every movement.

Time passes, and he can’t keep you out of his thoughts for more than ten seconds.

He might go mad at this point— it’s been hours since his shift at the library, but it feels like years at this point. He finds himself in his room, unable to think straight as he glances back at his computer— he hasn’t touched it since that day. His mind scolds him; was he really thinking of reaching this new low?

Beomgyu feels as though he’s lost control of himself— his hands move on their own accord, his mind is blank, throat dry as he stares at his screen expectantly— he nearly falls out of his chair when your eyes stare back at him.

Oh…

It takes him a second before it finally clicks, a glance to see what you’re doing on your screen allowing him to slump back in relief. You’re absentmindedly watching a video, eyes glancing back at your screen ever so often as you touch up your eyebrows.

He frowns— were you going somewhere?

You’re all dressed up, as beautiful as ever as you anxiously check the time. The sound of buzzing reaches the computer’s microphone, and Beomgyu watches as you look at your phone, a grin overtaking your features as you recognize the contact.

He watched as you giggle happily, nervous to answer as you pause your video— it takes you a second before you accept the call.

“Hi,” you answer, voice soft and sweet as you stare off into space. You’re shy, even though the person on the line can’t see you; you’re fixing your hair nervously, listening to the other person intently.

“You can’t?”

Beomgyu finds himself leaning forward at those two words, as though getting closer to his computer would allow him to listen to your conversation better. He watches the way you slowly deflate, nodding softly as you sink back into your chair.

“But… we already got the tickets…”

Silence. You’re biting at your lip dejectedly, eyes downcast as you nod along to the words on the other side. You’re upset— Beomgyu can feel his heart rate increase at the realization.

“No, it’s okay— I’ll just go on my own since I already got it…” your voice is trailing off, unable to mask your disappointment as you try to reassure the man on the other side.

“Yeah, I heard the butterfly garden is supposed to be really pretty. Yeah, I’ll send you pictures…” you’re not fooling anyone; your pouty voice and airy tone gave away just how upset you were. But you continue to reassure the man anyway, even if doesn’t deserve it.

“Don’t worry about it, minnie. Yeah, see you,” you say, and Beomgyu can’t help the way he prickles at the nickname. You’re scoffing once you hang up on the man, throwing your phone at your desk, the irritation coursing through your body as you stand up suddenly.

“What’s the point of going to the Botanical Garden on my own? It was supposed to be a cute date together,” you huff, fixing your outfit in the mirror as you put on perfume. Beomgyu can’t help the way his mind immediately begins to run with ideas— you’d be going alone, after being stood up by your date; this might just be an opportunity for him.

He’s an uncoordinated mess as he fumbles around his room, doing his best to look put together as he glances back to his screen to check if you’ve left yet. His heart is practically beating out of his chest from the thought of going through with his plan, but he can’t bring himself to think about it when he sees you grab your keys, storm out of your room, and undoubtedly get ready to leave.

He shuts his computer down before he’s following suit, checking the address on his phone before he’s on his way, wondering just how long it might take for you to get there, hoping it’s the same location you’re going to.

Beomgyu is in too deep, but he can’t bring himself to care much.

-♡♡♡-

The gardens are beautiful.

It only leaves you in a worse mood as you take your time to walk around, looking at the carefully curated flowers and plants that cover the greenhouse. It was empty for a late fall night, and you’re sure it would have made for a perfect intimate mood.

But no, you think bitterly, turning on your heels as you spot a couple in the distance, Jaemin just couldn’t come. How convenient. You’re not sure if his words were truthful, and that only made things worse. You couldn’t help but keep him in your thoughts, trying your best to distract yourself only to fail miserably— he hasn’t been spending much time with you recently. Has he used you? Did he get his fill of you already, dumping you easily and leaving you to chase after him like a fool? You wish you could deny those assumptions, but honestly, you weren’t sure.

You’re not sure how long you spent wandering around the greenhouse, but as you’re finally approaching the butterfly room you had been putting off all night, you’re surprised to find it empty. You’re left in awe as you take in this new area, the anticipation of seeing the butterfly-filled room lifting your mood immediately.

All thoughts of Jaemin are forced out of your mind as you take pictures of the garden, deciding to take some of yourself as well when you finally make sure that no one else will be coming in.

It isn’t until you’re ready to leave that you see him.

“Beomgyu,” you don’t realize you’ve said his name aloud until he’s turning to you, his head tilting in confusion. Your body bubbles with shame and embarrassment— why did you do that?

“I— I’m sorry,” you stutter out, all confidence drained as you make eye contact with him. You’re avoiding his gaze, much too embarrassed about your slip-up as you try to explain yourself. “I just wanted to… thank you again… for fixing my computer.”

He’s dressed casually, the difference in the professional attire he usually wears taking an odd effect on you as he comes closer to you— you’re left in awe by how nice he smells. You can almost feel your heart stop at the way he smiles at you, placing his hands in the pockets of his oversized zip-up as he tilts his head again, amused at the way you continue to talk.

“I don’t know how you did it, but it’s almost running faster than it was before,” you say, trying your best to make sure you’re not being awkward. (It’s not working, obviously.) You’re rambling, hoping desperately that he gives in and talks to you, going further than the usual small talk you always have at the library.

“It wasn’t that hard, don’t worry about it.” Is all he says, unable to take his eyes off you even as you shrink shyly under his gaze. “What brings you here so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you’re quick to deflect his question, but Beomgyu allows it to happen as watches the way you tense up.

“Just a nice place to destress,” his answer is simple and vague, and you’re wishing he would go more in-depth as he takes a moment to look around, staring at a butterfly that landed nearby. But he’s turning back to you, eyes glinting teasingly as he asks, “what about you?”

“Uh,” you maul his question through your mind for a second, and you’re surprised when you find yourself answering honestly. “It was supposed to be a date, but he blew me off.”

“Really? What a shame,” he says, eyebrows raising in surprise slightly at your words. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

A satisfaction bubbles up in Beomgyu’s chest as he watches the way you turn shy at his words, a soft giggle leaving your lips as you turn away, shaking your head in denial. But he insists, and it isn’t long until he has you wrapped around his finger, the conversation flowing smoothly as you finally break through his shell.

It’s odd seeing this side of Beomgyu. Unlike the reserved, quiet worker at the library, the man who stands before you exudes confidence, his glasses discarded as he smiles teasingly at you, charismatic and magnetic as you quickly find your heart beating faster the longer you look at him. The garden that surrounds you almost fades away in your mind, and before you know it, time slips by and you allow Beomgyu to escort you out to your car.

And you’re not sure if you should be embarrassed, but you’re almost reluctant to see him go as he leaves you, the strange feeling of wanting to see him more often blooming in your mind— you wish you would’ve gotten his number.

-♡♡♡-

Everything went a little too well.

Beomgyu isn’t exactly counting on things to go easy for him— and he’s only proven right the next time he comes to class.

Jaemin is sitting next to you again; but to Beomgyu’s delight, you’re ignoring him. He watches Jaemin try to apologize to you, reassuring you that he didn’t mean to cancel on you at the last minute. But just as Beomgyu thinks you might actually stand your ground, he watches as Jaemin whispers lowly to you, his pleading eyes and seemingly sincere act finally winning you over as you finally turn to him.

It irks him, and he can’t even muster up a polite look when you finally see him out of the corner of your eye, turning around to send him a cute smile. It’s brief, and you’re turning back around the moment your professor begins to speak— unlike Jaemin, who takes a moment to look Beomgyu up and down, eyes narrowed and a scowl on his face as he makes eye contact with him.

Beomgyu expects nothing less when Jaemin sends a glare to him, turning around before he’s wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you in protectively— but it sure as hell does piss him off.

Jaemin won’t last, Beomgyu reassures himself, watching as you throw the boy next to you a confused look, only to shrug off his behavior.

He’ll make sure of that.

-♡♡♡-

Beomgyu finds his opening quickly.

Who else would be just as eager to get rid of Jaemin? The answer comes like second nature.

Yeonjun.

Beomgyu doubts he’ll have to do anything to get Yeonjun on board with him— he can practically see the gears grind on their own in Yeonjun’s head the moment you emerge from class, giggly and cute as you stick to Jaemin’s side. He’ll have no problem planting ideas in Yeonjun’s head; in fact, he thinks Yeonjun may end up with some of his own.

And he was correct, of course.

Because how did you succumb to Jaemin so easily? He’s irritated, standing in his usual spot as he waits for you to look his way. But you’re far too engrossed in what the man before you is saying, your eyes not leaving his once.

Just a few days ago, he had stayed up late on the phone with you, listening to your rant on how your date had been canceled at the last minute. Yeonjun had listened to you, reassuring your worries and insecurities through gritted teeth as he listened to the way you pondered giving him a second chance— he wanted nothing more than to tell you to open your eyes, that Jaemin would most likely use you.

“He’s nothing but bad news.”

Yeonjun practically jumped at the sound of this new voice— how long had he been there? Swiftly, he turns to face the man, eyes narrowing the moment he recognizes the man before him— the guy from the library.

“Do I know you?” Yeonjun scoffs, eyes involuntarily glancing back at the conversation you’re still sharing with Jaemin. The man before him only laughs at this question, shaking his head as he reaches a hand up to adjust his hair. Yeonjun watches him, oddly tense as the librarian offers his hand out to Yeonjun.

“Choi Beomgyu,” the librarian introduces, patiently watching as Yeonjun hesitates to accept his outstretched hand.

“Choi Yeonjun,” Yeonjun reluctantly replies, grasping the man’s hand in a firm handshake. He shivers, unable to look away from Beomgyu’s eyes; it feels as though they were piercing through him.

“I know,” Beomgyu says, and though Yeonjun expected this, he can’t help but be unnerved by the man before him. Pulling away, Yeonjun is quick to shove his hands back into his jacket’s pockets, pulling the coat tighter around his form as he tries to play it off as the cold breeze getting to him—when really, he can’t help but try to shield himself from Beomgyu.

“You’re always around ___.”

“Do— do you know her?” It’s almost amusing how quick Yeonjun is to become defensive, shoulders tense and eyes narrowed in suspicion at the sound of your name.

“Of course,” Beomgyu says, his words doing nothing to reassure Yeonjun as the two men turn to glance back at you, to the way you’re finally waving Jaemin goodbye; slowly, you turn around, spotting Yeonjun in the distance as you wave happily— you’re unable to hold back the way your head tilts in confusion at the sight of Beomgyu as well.

“I have a class with her— and also, she’s always at the library,” Beomgyu says, a soft smile overtaking his face as you shyly wave at him as well.

“Well, what do you want then?” Yeonjun hisses, eager to get the man before him to leave. Slowly, Beomgyu turns back to the man, reluctant to tear his eyes away from you for even a second. Yeonjun can’t help but shiver, the man’s intentions already beginning to show in his eyes.

“The same thing you do,” Beomgyu says, voice quiet as you stroll happily in the distance, taking your time to enjoy the scenery as you allow them to talk— you wouldn’t want to be rude and interrupt their conversation, after all.

“I want Jaemin gone.”

Beomgyu can see the way something clicks for Yeonjun, his eyes flicking back to him instantly as the words leave his mouth. There’s no hint of a joke in Beomgyu’s eyes, and the pause is tense as he waits for Yeonjun to say something.

“He’s no good— quite unfaithful, I heard,” Beomgyu says, watching as the words hook Yeonjun instantly. It’s hard to fight back a smile, but Beomgyu succeeds in doing so as he continues to elaborate, already knowing what the man’s response will be. “The boy has already ditched her once— It’s a good thing I was there to keep her company— but who’s to say he won’t do it again?”

The date, Yeonjun thinks, eyes widening as he recalls you mentioning someone keeping you company, it was him.

“What are you playing at,” Yeonjun’s heart is beating harshly against his chest, unable to hide the way he jumps at the sound of you calling his name. He turns, ignoring the way Beomgyu stares at him, his eerie aura sending shivers down his spine as he greets you cheerfully.

“Meet me at the library in an hour and you’ll see.”

The words echo in Yeonjun’s mind, even as you cheerfully grab onto his sleeve, pulling at it as you cling to him, the cold breeze sending shivers through your whole body. He hopes you can’t see through his facade, but he knows he won’t have to worry about a thing when you simply look at Beomgyu, eyes widening as a smile overtakes your face.

“Oh, hi,” you say, and Beomgyu can’t help but smile fondly at your antics. Pursing your lips, you look between the two men, brows furrowing as you say, “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“We met recently,” Yeonjun can’t help but notice the way the man is quick to lie, the words easing out of his mouth so naturally that Yeonjun himself could have believed it. “When I fixed your laptop, he reached out to me.”

“Really?” It should be a bit worrisome how quick you are to believe his words, even when the memory of Yeonjun condemning you for being so trusting of strangers floats in the back of your mind, “I had no idea.”

“My laptop was acting weird, that’s all,” Yeonjun says, hating how he’s adding to the lie, how easily he’s deceiving you— if only you knew what they had spoken about, how those simple sentences that they exchanged had Yeonjun genuinely considering his offer; he shuddered at the realization.

What a creep, Yeonjun thought to himself, brushing off any curiosity that festered within him, refusing to believe that he would succumb to such lengths. But even as you walked next to him, Beomgyu parting ways as he sent Yeonjun a last look, he couldn’t deny the impact that the librarian’s words had on him.

“I don’t know, I’m probably being dumb. Probably overthinking things, as he said.” Your words are quick to bring Yeonjun back to where he was, his body returning to the long stretch of pavement as his mind finally allowed him to process your words. You couldn’t hold back the yelp of surprise that escaped you as Yeonjun snapped his head to look at you for the first time in a while, brows furrowed and a frown on his face as he truly took in your words.

“He said that?” Is all he can say, accusatory and bitter as he seethes those words. You shrink under his gaze, and he knows by the way that you grow quiet at his question that you weren’t truly expecting him to catch on so quickly. You’re embarrassed, words coming out in stutters as you uselessly try to defend yourself— and him, much to Yeonjun’s annoyance.

“Well, he’s not entirely wrong,” you begin, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you avoid your friend’s gaze, “I probably was overthinking.”

Oh, thank god Yeonjun had no idea of the things that had happened after your first date— you don’t think he would believe a single word you said if he found out how distant Jaemin had been after you had allowed him in your home, the very first bud of doubt blooming from then on; you felt stupid, but could never bring yourself to admit this to anyone— the embarrassment was too grand.

Sometimes, Yeonjun felt more like a caretaker than a friend, you thought to yourself, your poor attempts to change the conversation not going over Yeonjun’s head as you try to lighten up the mood; you don’t realize this, but asking him about his relationship with Beomgyu made nothing better.

“You two seem close,” you conclude, biting back a smile at the thought of seeing the two men next to each other; you were oddly comforted by the sight. “Are you gonna meet up with him?”

“What?” Yeonjun wished he could’ve held his tongue better, because he can tell that you were quick to see the alarm on his face. “Why do you say that?”

“I dunno, I heard him say something like that earlier,” you’re sheepish again, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk as you try to avoid your friend’s eyes, “sorry for overhearing your conversation. That’s all I heard though, I swear.”

And with that last comment that leaves your mouth, Yeonjun sighs, body slacking with relief as he shakes his head, unable to hide his fondness for your tactics. Throwing an arm around your shoulder, he pulls you into his frame, ignoring your yelp of surprise and complaints as he laughs at you softly.

“I guess I am, so what?” Yeonjun says, trying to not think much of what this meeting will entail as he leads you toward your apartment, “Jealous?”

“What? Of who?” You’re quick to get defensive, and Yeonjun can’t help but wonder if your affinity for Beomgyu had turned into something stronger— his stomach churned at the thought. But if he was going to get your attention back on him, he had to deal with things one at a time.

“Beomgyu, duh,” Yeonjun jokes, cracking a smile at the way you’re shaking your head in denial, arms reaching deeply into your pockets as you pull out your keys, “You’re scared he’s going to steal me from you.”

“Yeah right!” You say, unable to hide the grin that freely stretches across your face. You’re pushing him away, lingering at your front door as you lean against it, smiling coyly as you add, “He can keep you, for all I care.”

“Have fun on your date,” you chirp, unlocking your door and disappearing before Yeonjun can refute your claims. With the final click of your lock, Yeonjun can’t help but be frozen to the spot, staring at the wood in front of him as if it would change anything he had done— anything he had agreed to.

Technically, no one was forcing him to go, his mind refuted, trying its best to persuade him not to go. But a small meeting couldn’t hurt.

With that final decision, Yeonjun turned on his heels, face sobered from any happiness as he thought back to the quiet librarian who seemed to know more than he let on— after all, anything was worth investigating if it pertained to you.

Yeonjun let his muscle memory take over, and he quickly found himself on the path to the library again.

-♡♡♡-

The library was, like always, mostly empty.

It was nothing new to see only a handful of patrons wander around inside, sitting far from each other as they sat nose-deep in a book. Yet, it only seemed to put Yeonjun more on edge; without you here, he felt oddly vulnerable— even more so when he spotted Beomgyu in a deserted area.

“You’re quite early,” Beomgyu muses, not bothering to turn around as he reshelves a book. Yeonjun says nothing, waiting patiently for Beomgyu to say anything that involved the conversation they shared earlier. But he remains silent, turning instead to his cart that contained books that he needed to put back; Yeonjun could feel his jaw tick in annoyance.

“Well? Are you going to explain to me why you asked me to come here?”

For a brief second, Beomgyu’s eyes flit to the man, meeting his narrowed eyes as Yeonjun fights back the shiver that threatens to wrack through him. Yet Beomgyu can only exhale at that, clearly amused at the man’s attempts to seem stern.

“It seems as though we have a common interest in mind,” Beomgyu mutters, his voice smooth and entrancing as he manages to hook Yeonjun with those simple words. He pauses, reaching for another book as he scans the aisle leisurely; slowly, he places the book into its empty slot, pausing as his index finger runs along the spine absentmindedly.

“___.”

Yeonjun sighed— he knew it. From the very first time he walked into this cursed building, he had already gained the suspicion that you had caught Beomgyu’s attention— his confession did nothing to calm his qualms.

“You can’t be serious,” Yeonjun says, allowing himself to complain as he rolls his eyes at Beomgyu’s words, “What does that have to do with you calling me here? Are you trying to threaten me to back off or something? ‘Cause if you are, then that’s just pathetic—”

“Not at all,” Beomgyu says, a smile hinting at his lips as he wheels the cart to the next aisle, Yeonjun following uselessly in his tracks. “If anything, I think it’s best if we work together.”

Work together? Yeonjun couldn’t help the way his brain froze at that, unable to fathom the offer Beomgyu was trying to pitch; how could they possibly…

“Jaemin,” Beomgyu continues, eyes focused on the labels on the books as he searches for the empty slot for his next book. He finds it immediately, sliding the book in smoothly as he continues. “He’s not going anywhere at this rate.”

“Come on Yeonjun, how long have you been in love with her?” Yeonjun’s name is icy and threatening when it comes from Beomgyu’s lips, and the sudden accusation leaves him speechless. “Months? Years? I can see it all over your face.”

“You won’t get anywhere if you continue to be such a pushover. She’ll never think anything more of you.” It’s almost like magic, the way Beomgyu is quick and efficient as he finds the empty slots of each book. The cart is quickly emptying, and it isn’t long before he only has a handful of books to put back.

“But we, we can fix that,” he says, not bothering to look at Yeonjun as he absentmindedly flips through the book in his hands, reading the spine before he quickly finds its place. “We could work together, make sure she only thinks of us.”

Yeonjun says nothing. How could he? The offer presented before him is something he has never even allowed himself to explore. His heart is racing, fingertips numb as he buries his hands deep in his jacket pockets. Beomgyu doesn’t bother to say anything more, moving flawlessly along the aisles as he puts each book away effortlessly— he doesn't bother looking back once; Yeonjun will follow.

The cart is empty now, the last book placed in his hands as he leisurely reads through the summary as if he were actually interested in the contents. Yeonjun chews at his lip— to have you look at him, think of him. Maybe even put him first, for once; his mind swirled with the possibilities.

Plus, he could always deal with the extra variables later.

“What did you have in mind?”

The words escape him before he can think twice, and he watches as Beomgyu quickly finds the last empty slot, an index finger reaching out to push the book back snugly on the shelf.

Beomgyu smiles.

And it all falls into place.

Oh baby baby, how was I supposed to know,

that something wasn’t right here?

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun’s palms run over his jeans for the umpteenth time this hour.

He’s stiff, nervousness rendering him in this awkward posture as he looks around the small restaurant nervously— he can’t believe he’s going through with this.

Honestly, he had no reason to believe Beomgyu’s words; but the eagerness to find a reason to make you leave Jaemin allowed him to take a seat in the quiet, hole-in-the-wall restaurant, unsure of himself as he waited for the target to arrive. He had chosen his seat carefully, sliding into the corner booth that allowed him to get a full view of the dining area. And any moment now, the said man would walk in with someone that wasn’t you.

“___’s sick, hmm?” Beomgyu had asked, briefly looking up from the random book Yeonjun had checked out— you had asked him if he could return your book and check out a new one and, like always, Yeonjun was quick to accept.

“Yeah, why?” Yeonjun was already on edge, and the slow shake of Beomgyu’s head in disappointment only served to spike his nerves more.

“She shouldn’t be going out on dates if she’s sick; especially in such horrible weather…”

“What are you talking about?” Yeonjun knew exactly what the man was implying— you had been bedridden for days. But he couldn’t help but seethe the question through gritted teeth in hopes that his suspicions wouldn’t be confirmed.

“Oh no, just… overheard some things,” Beomgyu says, sliding the book back across the smooth wooden counter as he leans forward, a small smile on his face. “Jaemin seemed very excited to go on this date; a nice restaurant, I heard.”

“You don’t think…” Yeonjun trailed off, eyes glued to the hardcover to avoid the confrontation of it all; he knew what Beomgyu was implying— what he was being asked to do.

“Don’t know,” Beomgyu shrugs, nonchalant as he fixed his bangs casually, “but there’s truly only one way to find out.”

And that’s how Yeonjun found himself in the corner booth, surveilling the room with dread.

He left your place for this— the promise of a warm soup leaving you dazed and happy as you went back to sleeping through your fever— but Yeonjun couldn’t help but hope that it was all a hoax that Beomgyu made to mess with him.

Yes, he wanted Jaemin out of the picture— Beomgyu as well— but the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in the process too.

So, despite it all, he was hoping that Jaemin would be able to prove his innocence; or even better, not show up at all. He couldn’t help but curse at Beomgyu under his breath as he waited for his food— honestly, how did he manage to pick up on such a conversation, down to the last details? It was honestly unnerving, and the longer Yeonjun thought about it, the more he could feel the dread pool in his stomach.

The bell rang, signaling a new customer.

Yeonjun’s head snapped up at the sound, and to his dread, all of Beomgyu’s suspicions had been confirmed.

In walked Jaemin, hand in hand with someone that wasn’t you.

Yeonjun could feel his blood grow cold as he watched the scene before him, watching the way the girl attached to his arm blushed shyly at his compliments and leaned into his touch— Karina, of Yeonjun remembered correctly. It was a shameless display, and it only served to worsen Yeonjun’s mood as he was left to watch it all from afar— what should he do?

As if to answer his question, his phone buzzed.

“Hello?”

“So? I was right, wasn’t I?”

Yeonjun said nothing— but that was more than enough for Beomgyu.

“He doesn’t deserve her,” Beomgyu sighs out, the words like a quiet revelation that implants itself into Yeonjun’s brain. He grits his teeth, unable to take his eyes off the way Jaemin pulls the girl close to him, clearly unashamed to show such bold displays of affection.

“Poor ___, she’s all weak and sick, and this is how he repays her,” Beomgyu knows that he doesn’t need to continue, but he does so anyways as he plants the image into Yeonjun’s head; you were always so naive, so trusting, and to think of the ways that it’s gotten you hurt only twists Yeonjun’s heart more. “By going with another girl behind her back and treating her like an idiot.”

“He’s using her.”

“She’s not gonna handle this well,” is all Yeonjun can muster to say, watching the way a waitress finally comes around to his booth with his takeout orders. He thanks her, forcing himself to pretend that he wasn’t seconds away from punching Jaemin as he takes the bags into his hands.

“Of course she’s not. She really liked him,” Beomgyu’s words do nothing to calm Yeonjun, his nails digging into his palm as he watches the romantic scene before him.

“But she’ll have us.”

Those words repeated themselves in Yeonjun’s head; they swirled around his mind endlessly, as he took a picture of the scene, as he walked past the couple with gritted teeth, and as he made his way back to your apartment to figure out how to tell you the news.

She’ll have me. Yeonjun thought to himself as he drove back to you, knowing that he was about to shatter the rose-tinted image you had of the cute boy in your class. He would care for you, reassure you when you would begin to doubt yourself, and he would pick you back up and put you together, piece by piece. He would show you that his care was the only thing you really needed; that you should only have eyes for him.

After all, no one cares for you like he does.

-♡♡♡-

No one has ever stuck to you like Yeonjun.

It’s a thought that crosses your mind as you feel your head swirl with emotions, your stomach dipping violently as you clutch onto his bicep roughly— from fever-induced nausea or the picture on his phone, you weren’t exactly sure.

You’re sweaty and uncomfortable as you try to process your friend’s words; what he saw, what he heard, all while you were at home waiting to get better like a naive child.

You can’t believe you ever doubted Yeonjun— and you allowed yourself to tell him this, flushed and embarrassed as you lean into his chest, the boxes of takeout empty and discarded on the coffee table as you allow yourself to let out all your emotions; only because Yeonjun’s steady comfort gives you the confidence to do so.

“I‘ve always doubted if he really liked me,” you whispered, vision hazy and body tingly as you can feel your fever returning— you had tried to shoo Yeonjun away from getting too close, but his persistence only ended in you giving up any efforts to resist his coddling. “Sometimes I felt he was just using me for my body.”

Yeonjun’s hands stilled for a second. Briefly, he glanced down at you, eyes darkening as he took in the way your eyes were closed, already feeling yourself dozing away once more as the sleep allowed you to lower your barriers.

“Why do you say that?” It’s a cheap tactic, asking you these questions while your guard is down, but Yeonjun can’t help but want you to elaborate, hanging onto your every word as he listens to the way this man has hurt you— it makes his blood boil.

“I dunno, just felt like it,” you sighed, unable to stop the way you were cozying up against your friend, “every date would end the same… he would take me home, we would… then he’d just leave as quickly as he could.”

“He would ghost me sometimes— he was kinda inconsiderate, too…” you mumbled, the soothing feeling of Yeonjun’s arms around you allowing the words to spill from you without a second thought. “Cancelling, making me feel bad for being too clingy…”

“I was so stupid for trusting him.” Your breathing has evened out, your warm body leaning against Yeonjun as you fall asleep, your last comment pulling a frown into Yeonjun’s features. Yet, the more he thought back to all that you confessed to him, the more he felt a quiet rage build inside him. Slowly, he laid you back on the couch, pulling the blanket that had fallen off you back onto your frame as he stood back, watching the utter peace manifest itself onto your face. Glancing back at the messy coffee table, he reached for his phone, clearing his throat before he pressed it against his ear.

“You heard that?”

“Yeah. What a prick…” Beomgyu’s irritation practically bled through the speakers as he grumbled those words. His mind raced to grasp new ideas, contemplating what to do with the boy as a heavy pause filled the line. Yeonjun took this moment to clean around your house, tidying up any mess he found and leaving the leftover soup for you for when you woke back up—he had placed a damp cloth on your forehead, and was happy to see your fever was slowly going down.

“Yeonjun,” Beomgyu finally spoke, the sudden utterance of the man’s name causing him to flinch in surprise, “we need to get Jaemin out of the picture.”

Get him out of the picture— the same phrase had been on Yeonjun’s mind since the first time they had met.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Yeonjun asked, throwing on his coat as he looked back at you; peaceful, still fast asleep.

“All she needs is a little push in the right direction,” the words did nothing to reassure Yeonjun, a frown pulling at his features as he waited for the man on the other side of the line to elaborate, “just leave it to me.”

He promptly hung up afterward.

Yeonjun’s ride back home was tense— his mind was filled with worry, unsure of what the other man might pull. But the thought of him worrying so much over Beomgyu's words was ridiculous— honestly, what was the worst he could do? He didn’t seem to pose much of a threat. But there was something about him that still managed to unnerve Yeonjun; it seemed as though he were always two steps ahead. And for someone who didn’t know you for half as long as Yeonjun did, he sure was attuned to you perfectly.

It unsettled Yeonjun— and maybe it was because Beomgyu might have a chance of taking you away from him.

You have to work together, his mind told him, thinking back to the way Beomgyu seemed to confide in him, you’ll choose him in the end, anyway.

After all, no one cares for you like he does— and no one will ever come close.

-♡♡♡-

You’re a little shaky as you walk to class— whether it’s from anger or anxiety, you’re not entirely sure.

Having yet to confront Jaemin about what he did, you were left to pore over the little details of your fleeting relationship; of the things he did, said, and made you feel. And with each passing memory, with each dismissive word about your feelings, you could only be left with a buildup of shame in your stomach— had you really let him treat you like this all along?

There was a reason as to why you had let all those grievances go— they were all small actions that, if you truly hadn’t paid too much attention, could have been justified quickly; and you were so in love with the boy that you had done just that.

It’s embarrassing, but you’ve always been like this; quick to fall in love, and hard. Your track record of exes consisted of nothing but wasted potential, and Jaemin would just be another name on the list. So, as you walk into your small class, you prepare yourself for the worst— denial, embarrassment, or more dismissive comments at your expense. Or maybe, if you decided to confront him, you would be forced to deal with his pathetic pleading; the very thought seemed to drain you.

“___,” your thoughts were interrupted by the call of your name, halting in your steps as you turn towards the sound; you let out a weak smile as you watch Beomgyu approach you.

“How are you feeling? Yeonjun told me you were sick all weekend,” he says, and you try to not indulge yourself in his coddling as you watch the way he tilts his head curiously, eyes filled with genuine worry.

The last thing you need is to interest yourself in someone new, your mind tells you, forcing down any slight attraction you may have found towards the man before you; you were on guard, and Beomgyu was quick to notice with the way you seemed much more distant towards him.

“Um, better…” you say simply, tugging at the straps of your bookbag stupidly. You don’t leave much room for conversation, because you’re already walking inside your class before Beomgyu could respond. Yet, to your surprise, Beomgyu follows along steadily, and you’re afraid to look up at him as he lingers near your seat.

“Do you… mind if I sit next to you today?” You’re surprised by his sudden request, unable to hide it from your face as you look at him. You take a second, hesitating to answer before you finally give in.

“Sure… if you want,” you’re oddly meek as you finally answer, sitting in your seat as you refuse to look up from your laptop— or more specifically, at Beomgyu.

You’re shy, Beomgyu realizes, the conclusion bringing about a wave of satisfaction within him as he watches you try to peek at him, only to catch him staring; yet you’re the only one who seems embarrassed as you look away.

Beomgyu watches as you slowly warm up to his presence— your body relaxes from its stiff posture, and you seem to be itching to make conversation as you glance at him again; this time, without any fear of being caught.

Yet within seconds, you return to your alarmed posture— and it doesn’t take much for Beomgyu to realize why.

In walks Jaemin, walking sluggishly to his seat as he stares down at his phone, unaware of the way Beomgyu throws an arm behind your seat instinctively, ignoring the surprised look you send him. Briefly, the boy glances up from his phone, and his expression drops as he takes in the way Beomgyu has made himself comfortable in his usual seat next to you.

“Could you move please,” it’s not a question as the words drip from Jaemin’s mouth, laced with such hostility that you’re quick to look away from his narrowed eyes. Beomgyu isn’t phased— at least not with the way the boy is trying to be intimidating, using the height difference to his advantage as he towers over Beomgyu.

“Why should I?” Is all Beomgyu says, tilting his head casually as he watches the way Jaemin’s jaw clenches with annoyance— his eyes flit to you before they’re back on Beomgyu, and he’s quick to decipher what the boy is trying to imply as he gives him a soft smile.

“Ah, I see,” Beomgyu says, allowing himself to lean closer to you— you seem to be on edge from his actions. “Well, she doesn’t mind me being here. Why don’t you find somewhere else to sit for today?”

“Because that’s my girlfriend,” Jaemin grits out. By now, the small exchange has caught the attention of the other students, and you’re buzzing with embarrassment as they all send curious glances at the three of you. “I’d really appreciate it if you took your hands off her.”

“What about Karina, hmm? Are you done with her?” Beomgyu says, the sudden drop of the girl’s name leaving the two of you to gape at him in surprise.

“What, you thought no one would find out? You didn’t even try to hide it,” He says, taking in the way Jaemin’s ears have turned red; he’s no longer looking at Beomgyu, but at you instead— his eyes are pleading for you to hear his explanation, apologetic crocodile tears filling his eyes as you refuse to look at him— the scene is almost laughable.

“The lectures starting,” Beomgyu adds, enjoying the way Jaemin glances to the front of the room to confirm this— his eyes meet with the professor’s who only gives him an unamused look as he begins to talk.

You hear a few soft laughs as Jaemin sulks to his seat— and you’re afraid the embarrassment might eat you alive as you melt into your chair, the interaction leaving you hot and ashamed as you zone out, replaying their words back in your head.

“How did you know about Karina?” You whisper to him, the sudden memory of the confrontation leaving you uneasy— there’s only one other person who knows about this.

“What do you think?” His words do nothing but confirm your suspicion; Yeonjun told him. That only leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, a frown overtaking your face at the thought of Yeonjun telling others about what happened to you; granted, it helped you keep Jaemin away for a bit, but it still left you upset to think about.

“Yeonjun told you,” you say bitterly, crossing your arms in annoyance. Beomgyu simply lets out a soft chuckle, and you send him a look of confusion as you watch him sit up, his arm disappearing from behind you.

“All Yeonjun did was confirm my suspicions, Beomgyu admits, watching as you throw him a curious look, sitting up in your chair as you wait for him to elaborate. “I overheard him on the phone, that’s all; I knew it wasn’t you because Yeonjun had told me you were sick.”

And because he watched over you, his mind adds, unable to let him forget his actions of doting on you, watching from afar as he watched your state closely; by the first couple of hours, he was ready to send Yeonjun to check on you, but the man was clingy enough that he found out on his own later on.

“Oh,” you say softly, processing the information as you pause, staring down at your lap before you’re finally glancing back at Beomgyu, sending him a sheepish smile as you add a small, “Thanks.”

“Any time,” Beomgyu says, unable to control the smile on his face as he watches you become more comfortable with him— and slowly, give your trust to him more.

-♡♡♡-

“You know, I’m glad I actually listened to you this time.”

Two men sit in the small booth of a restaurant across from a cafe, watching intently through the window as you sit across Jaemin, a steeled expression on your face— you’re sliding your phone across the table to him, allowing him to take a look at the contents on the screen as you cross your arms firmly.

“This time? Why do you say that?” Beomgyu asks, an amused smile on his face as he leans his face on his hand, watching the way Jaemin can only stare up at you with guilt, mouth agape as he attempts to defend himself.

“Because you creep me out,” Yeonjun is shameless as he admits this, uncaring of the way the man across from him only lets out a laugh at his words. It was nothing but the truth; there was something about Beomgyu that impeded Yeonjun from fully confiding in him— and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out what it was.

“Creep you out?” Beomgyu echoes, raising a brow as he looks away from where you sit— you’re arguing now, your voices hushed as you lean into each other, trying your best to not cause a scene in a public place.

Yeonjun doesn’t elaborate— he doesn’t want to, especially now that he’s become more invested in the way you’re trying your best to be firm; he can already see the way Jaemin is begging for a second chance, reaching out for your hands and undoubtedly promising that he’ll change; the decisive shake of your head is all Yeonjun needs to know that you’re not going back to him.

“Hmm, we should probably get going,” Beomgyu says, standing up before Yeonjun can inquire why. He hesitates, glancing back at where you sit before he’s rushing to follow behind Beomgyu, who has already paid the bill, and is waiting at the exit for Yeonjun.

“We could’ve just split it,” Yeonjun mumbles bitterly, pulling out his wallet to try to pay the man back. But Beomgyu only shakes his head, refusing the older’s money as they make their way out of the restaurant. The air is chilly and the sun is beginning to set, the two men pulling their coats tighter on their figures as a cold breeze passes by.

“No need, I don’t mind,” Beomgyu says, taking a path to a nearby park; one you went to every day, Yeonjun realizes, “think of it as a thank you, for opening ___’s eyes.”

“How do you know so much about her?”

The question is quick to slice through the pleasant mood Beomgyu had built up, their steps slowing on the path as they come to a stop. The air is tense, the rustling leaves and Yeonjun’s quickening breaths the only sound heard as Beomgyu ponders his question.

“You haven’t known her for that long,” Yeonjun says, eyes narrowing at the way Beomgyu does nothing to refute his accusations— he’s calm, eerily so as he listens to the older’s words, an amused smile threatening to show.

“No, I haven’t,” Beomgyu admits, looking away from Yeonjun’s searing gaze and at a much more interesting target instead. Yeonjun follows his line of sight, his stomach dropping at the way you’re already walking their way, having yet to notice them as you’re lost in your own world; your steps are hasty, frustration laced in your body language as you frown, hands shoved deep in your jacket pockets as you murmur incoherently to yourself.

“But you’d be surprised by how much she tells me.”

There it is again. That nagging insecurity that makes alarms blare in Yeonjun’s head, sending a hot strike of anger through him as the very thought of you confiding in Beomgyu instead of him comes into his mind. Just how much does this stranger know about you already?

He’s eager to get your attention as he leaves Beomgyu’s side, calling out your name and waving to you happily the moment you make eye contact with him. He can see the surprise on your features, and you’re confused as to how you’ve managed to run into both of them again at such a low point in your life.

“Hi jun,” you say softly, hoping that he can’t see your teary eyes as you approach him. The sun has set and all that’s left are the streetlamps above you, and even then, you’re hoping foolishly that he isn't as attentive to you as he always is— your hopes are crushed immediately.

“___, what’s wrong?” His words are quiet, the question meant to be heard by only the two of you as he cradles your face, staring into your eyes so intently you can’t help but fluster. You’re stuttering out excuses, not wanting to break the news to your friend in front of someone else. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Beomgyu approach the two of you, watching the scene quietly before he finally speaks.

“Did you two break up?” There’s no context to his words, but none is needed as he sends you a knowing look; you nod solemnly in response.

“Huh? You and Jaemin?” Yeonjun is quick to bring your attention back to him as your eyes begin to shine under the streetlamps, much too embarrassed to be seen like this as you nod again; you’re prying his hands from your face in an attempt to hide the sudden influx of emotions.

“I feel so stupid,” is all you can say, back turned to them as you try to recompose yourself, “I can’t believe I let him treat me like that for so long.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Yeonjun reassures you, getting a hold of your arm as he pulls you close to him, a soft smile on his face as he reaches to wipe the tear that slips from your eye— you really wish you weren’t crying over such a worthless relationship, but you were nonetheless; at least you had Yeonjun by your side.

“Do you mind if we walk you home? It’s dark out,” Beomgyu is quick to offer, his words sincere as he looks at you intently. You know there’s no room to argue, and you can see it on their faces that they refuse to let you walk alone— Yeonjun always made an effort to walk with you, always saying that he “didn’t like your apartment— it was too secluded”. Yet you still hesitate for a second, unsure if you want them to see you in such a state any longer.

“I don’t want to bother,” you say quietly, looking away from the intense gaze of your friend— you can already see him getting ready to argue.

“You won’t, I promise,” Beomgyu’s soft reassurance is all you need to agree, sending them an unsure nod as you allow them to walk on either side of you; they allow you to lead them, and you’re glad that they let you walk a few steps ahead, the space giving you a break from their constant worrying.

Behind you, Yeonjun can’t help but throw Beomgyu a cautious glance— the last thing he would want Beomgyu to find out is where you live. It’s irrational, but it’s a fear nonetheless as he keeps a close eye on Beomgyu, observing quietly as the man makes conversation with you.

Wordlessly, Yeonjun appears at your side; he links his hands with yours, staring straight ahead even when you only spare him a confused glance. Yet he can’t help the way a small smile breaks onto his face as you lean into his touch, fingers lacing tightly with his on instinct as you continue your conversation with Beomgyu.

Honestly, it was laughable if Beomgyu thought he would take you so easily— for as long as Yeonjun had a heart that beat for you, he would make sure to never leave your side. And to think that this man thought he might be on the same level as Yeonjun; it almost felt like an insult.

Beomgyu didn’t deserve you.

What you deserved was someone who would be able to protect you, someone that knew you better than you knew yourself; someone who’s been through the good and bad, who wouldn’t leave your side so easily— someone like Yeonjun.

“It’s getting late,” Yeonjun mutters, the two of you glancing at him as the suddenness of his words catches you off guard, “Beomgyu, you should probably go home. I can walk ___ home, we live near each other.”

Beomgyu has nothing to say, but he’s sure that the look he sends Yeonjun is enough to communicate his thoughts— You prick.

There was not much he could say to refute that, especially when you join in to reassure him that you’ll be alright. But he tries anyway, insisting that he wouldn’t mind walking home late if it means seeing you get home safe— your worried argument is the only thing that allows him to give in.

“It’s supposed to rain in a bit, Gyu,” you say, the nickname slipping past your lips so naturally he almost doesn’t notice— but when he does, he’s ready to do whatever you ask of him in an instant.

“Gyu?” He repeats teasingly, watching the way you fluster in realization, stuttering apologies and trying to justify yourself.

“Sorry, I do that with all my friends,” You say, unaware of the way Yeonjun sends Beomgyu a glare behind you, “sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to— “

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” he says, interrupting you before you can continue. With a tilt of his head, he leans towards you, enjoying the way you look at him in anticipation as he purrs, “I think it’s cute.”

You’re quick to look away from him, flustered and embarrassed as you let out a small “oh” in response. Clearing your throat, you try to recompose yourself as you send him a smile, trying to push past the way he’s looking at you so fondly.

“Well, get home safe,” you say, smiling as you softly add, “Gyu.”

He’s unable to put up a fight at your request— especially not with the way your cute nickname leaves your lips. He chuckles, bidding you goodbye before he looks up at Yeonjun— his expression sobers immediately.

“Bye, Yeonjun,” he says, careful to not sound too cold in front of you. The man only narrows his eyes at him, clearly eager to see him go as he bids him goodbye as well.

“Goodbye,” he says, the small smile irritating Beomgyu as he says, “get home safe.”

With one last wave goodbye, you watch him turn and head the opposite way— you’re glad that you insisted on letting him go home. But now it was just you and Yeonjun, and you couldn’t help but be on edge, afraid that he might try to get you to talk about what happened with you and Jaemin.

“We should get going,” is all your friend says, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you along without a second thought. You let out a soft hum of surprise, allowing him to take you to your apartment as you wait tensely for his upcoming scolding— but it never comes.

Instead, he keeps you close to his side, bringing you closer to him as the wind picks up and a shiver wracks through you. The sky above you is clouding and gray, the looming weather giving you the motive to walk faster. It isn’t until you’re two blocks away from your apartment that the sudden rumble of thunder rolls throughout the city, the droplets of rain falling onto the two of you harshly.

“Shit,” you gasp, the rain quickly becoming more severe as you glance at Yeonjun. Linking his arm with yours, he says nothing, eyes squinting ahead as the two of you make a run for it instead.

You’re quick to pull your hood over your head, but you’re sure it won’t do much as you can already feel the rain soak through your clothes. Your legs are sore and you’re panting by the time you spot your house in the distance, the adrenaline that soars through your heart only increasing at the loud boom that strikes the city. Unable to contain your yelp of surprise, Yeonjun glances back at you, his laughter contagious as you finally rush to the steps of your front door.

“Come on,” you grunt, frustrated at the way you can’t seem to unlock your door. Yeonjun hovers over you, covering you with his jacket as he patiently waits. Your face lights up as you finally hear the click of the door, and you’re quick to push the door open as the two of you stumble inside roughly— you’re winded and soaked, and can only manage to let out a weak laugh as you make eye contact with your friend.

“I didn’t think it was gonna storm,” you say, peeking back out your window to see the raging winds and the rain that pours down, “I hope Beomgyu made it home safe.”

“I’m sure he did,” Yeonjun quickly pipes up, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your room, “but you should probably change before you catch a cold.”

“So should you,” you refute, already going through your clothes to find something to wear. Turning around, you hand Yeonjun some of his old clothes he’s left in the past to change into, heading out of your room as you say, “gonna go shower, you can go after me.”

Yeonjun’s small “m’kay,” is all you hear before you disappear into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you as you leave him alone in your room.

It’s been a while since he’s last been in here— memories of taking care of you when you were sick pop up in his mind, and he smiles fondly at the memories as he sits on your bed; the same spot he sat in as you begged him not to go, tugging at his sleeves weakly until his promise of returning with food allowed you to let go.

Then he returned with the news that broke your heart.

He then coddled you endlessly, enjoying how dependent you had become as you clung to him, making him promise you to stay by your side forever— a promise he gladly made.

Your bed is cute; filled with stuffed animals and made neatly, Yeonjun resists the urge to lay down, but if not for his soaked figure, he would’ve allowed himself to indulge in the scent that coated your sheets— the soft coconut and the subtle eucalyptus that came from the stress relief perfume you often used; it had been a staple in your life for years, and Yeonjun wanted it to stay that way. His gaze drifted around the space, from your unorganized closet to the pictures that decorate your walls, and he was elated to see himself in most of them. They surrounded your workspace, his eyes stopping at each one until he found a new interesting target.

Your laptop remained open, left to charge as the black screen was left to face him.

He always wondered why you left it open, often joking that “you should put something on the camera; you never know who’s watching.” You would be quick to brush him off, rolling your eyes as you would refute “who would want to watch me?”

The very thought sent shivers down his spine— the camera left the perfect view of your entire space; giving perfect access to watch you, alone and at peace.

He stands up to shut it.

“Jun, you got my bed wet,” your whiny voice is what snaps him out of his daze, and he’s glad for the diversion as he looks back at you, embarrassed to have caught himself thinking such things. You stand at the doorway, staring at him with your arms crossed and a cute pout that he wishes he could kiss away.

“Is that mine?” Is all he responds with, and it’s your turn to send him a sheepish glance as you pathetically try to cover the hoodie you wear, as if doing so would make him think otherwise.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,” you sulk, hands dropping to your sides as you go to your closet to hand him a clean towel. Moving away from your desk, Yeonjun grimaces at the feeling of his wet clothes rubbing against his skin, glad to take the towel from your hands as makes his way to your bathroom.

“It’s my favorite hoodie,” he argues, but he can’t bring himself to be angry with the way you shrug carelessly at that, sending him a sly smile as you follow behind.

“You said it looked better on me.”

And it’s not something he can argue with— especially not with the way the item hangs over your figure, already big enough on him as he enjoys the way it drapes over your thighs, covering the poor excuse of shorts that you usually slept with at night.

“Go shower, you’re sleeping over tonight,” you say, and as if to prove your point, a loud strike of thunder booms over you, the sound sudden as you flinch in response, “there’s no way you’re walking back in this weather.”

“If you insist,” he coos with a cheeky smile, letting out an obnoxious laugh as you shove him inside; you’re grumbling incoherently to yourself as you leave, but Yeonjun knows you don’t mean any of it as he finally strips himself of the clothes that stick stubbornly to his skin.

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun swears he might just be in heaven— the room is dark and the rain is soothing as he lays in bed, unable to take his gaze away from your peaceful frame. You’re sleeping soundly, allowing Yeonjun to sleep in the same bed as you after you had drifted off while you were watching a movie together; the exhaustion from today had seemed to hit you hard.

Yet he itches to get closer— he wants to hold you, and his thoughts seem to take over as he scoots closer to you, unable to help himself as he gingerly wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest as he nuzzles into your hair— he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get over your alluring scent.

But when you shift from your sleep, turning around to face him, he thinks his heart might just stop— that is, until your eyes meet his, dazed and sleepy as you scoot closer to him happily. You’re quick to seek his warmth as you throw your leg around his waist, practically wrapping yourself around him as you bury yourself into his neck, sighing happily as you do so.

“Y’smell so good, jun,” you softly slur out, barely able to keep your eyes open as Yeonjun’s hand reaches the hem of your hoodie, his touch innocent as he breaches past it, rubbing your back soothingly. You hum in appreciation at his touch, ignoring his teasing chuckle as you already feel yourself drifting back to sleep.

“Cause it’s your stuff I’m using,” he argues; he’s sure you’re saying something along the lines of “doesn’t matter,” but it doesn’t really come out right as you’re quick to fall back asleep, comfortable in his arms as your breathing evens out.

He doesn’t want to let go— he doesn’t want to fall asleep, either, fighting back the urge as he enjoys this moment, thoroughly indulging in the way your body is pressed firmly against his; it just feels right.

Choi Yeonjun is screwed. Because as he lays down with you, the serene and calm moment doing nothing to slow down the flustered beating of his heart, he knows that he’ll never be able to move on from you— which only gives him a new swell of determination to make you his.

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun hasn’t heard from you today.

Which honestly shouldn’t be that alarming. Except, he didn’t hear from you yesterday either— or the day before that. The last time he saw you was when he stayed over during the storm, and it’s been too long for him to not worry. He’s unsure of what to do, the constant calling and text messages doing nothing for him as it's all left unanswered. He’s even called your parents, asking if you were there— he couldn’t bring himself to tell them why he was calling, not wanting to worry them unnecessarily.

But now he’s left pacing in the library, biting endlessly at his lip as Beomgyu’s eyes bore into him.

“What do you mean she hasn’t talked to you in three days?” The librarian seethes out, just as tense as the pacing man before him as he sits up from his seat. The library was closed now, but he couldn’t help but let the older man in the moment your name slipped past his lips in such a panicked tone.

“I don’t know, she hasn’t been answering my texts!” Yeonjun can’t quell the feeling of despair that ensnares him, the feeling suffocating as his voice rises in volume, “Or my calls.”

“Call her again,” is all Beomgyu says, racking his brain as he blocks out Yeonjun’s protests saying it won’t work, “Just fucking try it!”

Even as Yeonjun begrudgingly does so, he can’t stop the secret pleasure he gets from seeing Beomgyu finally break his perfect facade— he just wishes it wasn’t due to this situation. The phone rings out, and Yeonjun can already feel the grip on his phone tighten as he listens to it ring out, his mind softly pleading for you to answer.

“Jun?”

It’s a chain reaction, for as soon as Yeonjun slumps down in relief, Beomgyu sighs, running an angered hand through his hair as he watches Yeonjun scold you ruthlessly.

“What happened? Where are you?” Yeonjun asks, the feeling of relief subsiding as he remembers how you just disappeared on him, “You haven’t answered any of my messages, you didn’t say anything for three days.”

Silence. Yeonjun waits desperately for you to explain yourself, wondering what you could possibly be doing right now that ended in you going MIA like this.

“Shit, jun, did my texts not send?” You say, and almost mockingly, Yeonjun can feel his phone buzzing with notifications, “I went to visit my aunt— you know, the one that lives in the countryside? Her internet was down, I’m coming home right now.”

Of course— Your aunt, Yeonjun remembers, recalling the way you would take him with you to visit her, the summers spent when you were younger bringing back fond memories— at least he knew you weren’t lying.

“Fuck, don’t do that again,” Yeonjun sighs, running his hand restlessly through his hair as he takes a seat in defeat, “You had me worried, I thought something happened to you.”

Your frantic apologies don’t quite reach his ears, because he can still feel an ember of anger fighting to stay alight inside of him, spewing irrational thoughts and a deep secret he thought would never resurface. But even as he listens to your sincere and apologetic voice, he finds himself meeting eyes with Beomgyu— and suddenly, he doesn’t seem to be as unnerving as he once thought; all he sees now is a manifestation of all the things he wasn’t brave enough to do on his own.

“Please, just tell me you’ll get here safe,” is all Yeonjun can reply, his voice tense as you reassure him, telling him that your aunt was currently driving you back.

“She was in town when I ran into her, I just couldn’t resist going with her to the countryside for a bit,” you add sheepishly, as though you actually had to explain yourself in the first place, “But don’t worry, I’ll be home in like, twenty minutes. I’m bringing back some of her pie, you should come over.”

Yeonjun’s noncommittal hum brings about another apology from you, and he knows that you’ve picked up on his tense mood as you hang up, trying to quell his mood with a sweet coo of his name— it almost works for a second, your melodic voice allowing him to calm down for a moment.

But when he hangs up, he can feel the ember light into a fire inside him.

“Went to her aunt’s house,” is all Yeonjun does to explain, not bothering to elaborate any further before he’s moving on to his next thought— he’s careful to bring it up, unsure if the man before him would use this idea against him, using it as a way to scare you away from Yeonjun; so instead, he merely implies it.

“I don’t want this to happen again,” Yeonjun says, face somber as he stares down at the table, and at his phone which is finally showing the messages you had attempted to deliver. It’s a picture of you and your aunt in her truck, a happy grin plastered on your face as you texted him “Auntie kidnapped me, staying over at her place for a couple of days!”

“What do you mean?” Beomgyu is hooked on his words, hoping that his eagerness is hidden well as he waits for the older man to speak—he can see the thoughts fighting in his brain, his moral compass being torn and broken as he looks back at Beomgyu, uncertain in his words as he meets his eyes.

“I want to keep a closer eye on her.”

Yeonjun is aware that Beomgyu knows his way around technology well; even more so when the younger man frowns, leaning back in his chair as he stares down at Yeonjun’s phone— he knows the moment he has caught on.

“A closer eye on her…” Beomgyu mutters, hands slowly sliding across the table to grab Yeonjun’s phone— the said man watches, eyes narrowed as he takes in the way Beomgyu becomes deep in thought.

“How are we supposed to do that? A tracker?” His eyes flit up, looking through the frames of glasses and piercing into Yeonjun’s own eyes— he stares back, unbreaking as the building falls silent.

“Cameras?”

There is no planning on how Yeonjun will react; Beomgyu has taken a leap of faith as the word escapes him, the final test that will show just how far Yeonjun is willing to go to keep you close.

Yeonjun thinks back to the computer on your desk; Then back to you, so unaware of your fate as you eagerly make your way back home, always so trusting of your friend as you expect him to come over soon.

He shouldn’t be considering it.

But he does, and once the memory of the anguish that flooded him at your disappearance comes back to him, he can only give Beomgyu a single nod before he’s able to return to the last part of him that kept him sane; the last part that wasn’t devoted wholly to you.

But it was too late.

“She asked for me to come over,” wordlessly, Beomgyu watches as Yeonjun reaches into his pocket, sliding something across the table, his hand pulling away to reveal the small device— a tracker.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind your company.”

Beomgyu brings the small device into his hands, examining it carefully as he withheld a smile; Yeonjun seemed to be just as deep into the rabbit hole as he was— he only played the part of the saint to make himself feel better.

“How did you get this?” Beomgyu asks, voice quiet as he looks back up at Yeonjun. The said man doesn’t respond, but the way he looks away in shame tells Beomgyu all he needs to know, “You’ve thought of this before, haven’t you.”

“It was a stupid purchase,” Yeonjun snaps, pulling out his car keys as he gestures for Beomgyu to follow him. Turning off all the lights, Beomgyu makes sure to lock up and set up the alarm before he follows Yeonjun out, laughing mockingly at his attempt to justify himself, “Don’t act as if you’re innocent either.”

“You suggested it,” The withering glare does nothing to affect Beomgyu as he gets in the car, the bag thrown in the back making him raise a brow curiously, “What, you want me to hack into her computer too?”

“You can do that—?” Yeonjun pauses his actions as he turns to the other in disbelief; yet he can’t hide the darkness in his eyes as he mulls over the offer, turning his body pressed back to the seat as he shakes his head. “You sick fucker.”

“Didn’t hear a no.” Beomgyu quips, and he knows his words have gotten into his brain by the way Yeonjun’s grip tightens on the steering wheel, the heavy gulp giving away his deepest thoughts; he was definitely considering it.

“She never closes that stupid laptop,” Yeonjun mutters to himself, and before he can second guess himself, he’s nodding his head, cursing at himself internally as he sees the way Beomgyu is eager to get to work from the corner of his eye. The rest of the drive is silent, and Yeonjun is slow to pull into your street as he hears Beomgyu mutter something about almost being done.

“There,” Beomgyu says, aware of how tense Yeonjun has become, his form rigid as he finally parks in front of your apartment— he’s quick to recognize your car, and is relieved to find your lights on inside.

Hesitantly, Yeonjun turns to his laptop screen, stomach twisting violently at what he might find. Nails digging into his skin, he can already hear his mind fighting him to not look— to save the last bit of decency that he may have had left in him. But his curiosity is much stronger, and Yeonjun knows there is no going back when his eyes land on his laptop’s screen.

And you’re there, in your room, laying on your bed casually as you scroll on your phone, clearly waiting for Yeonjun to show up. You’re wearing Yeonjun’s favorite hoodie once more, and he almost thinks you might just be doing all this on purpose— especially with the way your small shorts seem to ride up your thighs effortlessly.

“Let’s go,” is all Yeonjun can say, hoping that the effect of seeing you like this is gone unnoticed by Beomgyu— his head feels dizzy, full of the images of you and all of the possibilities as he knocks on your door, trying helplessly to get the intrusive thoughts out of his head. Beomgyu’s mocking laugh next to him does nothing to help.

“Jun—!” Your happy exclamation is cut short as you finally notice the other person behind your friend, flushing with embarrassment at being seen in such clothing. You’re suddenly more self-aware of yourself as you greet him shyly, and Yeonjun tries to not let his irritation show as he clears his throat, your attention back on him.

“Hope you don’t mind the extra company,” your friend says, and you’re quick to reassure him as you step aside, gesturing for the two to come in happily.

“Nah, more people to enjoy my aunt’s pie,” you grin, leading them to the kitchen happily; it smells sweet, the pie still warm as you had already prepared two plates— you’re quick to grab an extra one, smiling cutely as you serve them each a slice.

And Yeonjun wishes otherwise, but he can’t help but get excited at the way you seem to be tired from your trip, still a bit groggy and slow with your every action as you suggest watching a movie or two— the look exchanged between the two men goes unnoticed by you, the small device suddenly weighing Beomgyu’s pocket a lot more than it did a few seconds ago.

You’re happy to have both of them seated at each of your sides, though you’d never admit it out loud— the sudden warmth and comfort of having the two men next to you only made you drowsier, the movie left unwatched as you inevitably fell asleep; your phone left on the coffee table in front of you as you nuzzle into Yeonjun, searching desperately for the scent that always seemed to remind you of home.

With one look towards Beomgyu, he watches as the younger is quick to grab your phone, sneaking off into the bathroom so you won’t be able to catch him implanting the tracker. Slinging the bookbag containing the laptop over his shoulder, he quickly disappears as he tries to get it all over with as soon as possible, your peaceful form on the couch remaining unaware of it all.

“Mmh, where’s gyu?” Yeonjun can feel you stirring against his figure minutes later, the suddenness of your voice startling the man as he wraps an arm around you in a panic. He’s pulling you closer to him, putting on an act of clinginess as he whines for you to not get up, much to your protests.

“He’s in the bathroom,” Yeonjun says, arms wrapped around you tightly as he pulls you back down, laying on the couch as he shamelessly brings you closer to him, “don’t, I’m comfortable like this.”

If it weren’t Yeonjun who was doing this to you, you would have immediately wondered why he was being so clingy to you suddenly— but you can’t bring yourself to fight against him, the drowsiness combating against your brain as you finally give in to his request; the feeling of you slumping against Yeonjun’s figure tiredly allows him to finally relax. He hopes desperately that you can’t feel the way his heart is practically pounding against his chest, or the way his hands have gone shaky as they attempt to steady themselves on your back— the idea of you finding out what the two were up to was enough to set Yeonjun off into a feeling of panic.

You would hate him; you would think he was disgusting, too. But the thoughts were quickly swept away the moment Beomgyu emerged from the hall, triumphantly sliding your phone back on the coffee table, your sleeping figure weighing Yeonjun down on the couch as he finally allowed himself to bask in the feeling of it— because now, you would never be out of their sight.

You would be safe.

-♡♡♡-

Well, this is new.

Yeonjun stands outside the small coffee shop you work at, a family-owned business that you dedicated yourself to because “it reminded you of the cafe back at home.”

Yet from the time you’ve been working there, Yeonjun has never seen this— as in, you talking to the tall boy that smiles cutely at you as you explain something to him. Yeonjun is more than happy to turn your attention over to him the moment he enters the shop, your face lighting up as you wave excitedly to your friend; the boy beside you attempts to keep his dimpled smile from slipping.

Soobin, his name tag reads— and according to you, he‘s been here for months. The friendly smiles and small talk that the man exchanges with Yeonjun mean nothing, because he knows well that you’ve managed to snag the tall man’s attention; the only thing that runs through his mind is how to get Soobin out of the picture; the last thing he needed was a repeat of Jaemin.

“Yeah, he’s really sweet,” you say to Yeonjun, telling him about the man that is currently back in the kitchen, “not that I’m interested or anything.”

Soobin was, at most, a good friend to you. You had trained him most days when he first started working with you, and he was easy to get along with. But what you failed to tell Yeonjun was just how sweet he was— to you, specifically. The lingering thoughts of him being interested in you began to plague your mind, and despite you telling yourself that there was just no way, you couldn’t help but begin to overthink his every action.

“Was he a friend of yours?” Soobin asked, reappearing at your side the moment Yeonjun finally bids you goodbye. You nod, telling him that you’d been friends with the man since you were children— Soobin smiles fondly at the thought.

“That’s nice— I’m glad he’s gone though,” he says, watching the way you frown at his words, “Cause now I get you to myself!”

“Oh, uhm,” you can’t fight the way your awkwardness peaks though, thoroughly caught off guard by his words as you try to sputter a coherent response—Soobin simply laughs at your reaction.

“Cause I need you to show me how to use the new coffee machine they installed,” he says, enjoying the way you shrink in embarrassment by your reaction. Soobin was quite the tease— you would find yourself in situations like these quite often, his bold words making you trip over yourself as he would smile, fully aware of his effect as he would backtrack instantly; he had your mind spinning by the time you went to clock out.

You really hope Soobin is nothing more than that— a tease. Because as you wave to him goodbye, shrugging your jacket on as you send him a small wave, you try to look past the way his eyes narrow fondly at you, feeling his eyes lingering on your form until you’re out of sight— you try to suppress the shiver that threatens to wrack through you.

The drive home allows you to clear your mind well; the stress from work and your endless assignments have left you in distress, the sudden moment of weakness only bringing about more unwanted distractions— as in, Jaemin. And while it felt nice to be able to lean on someone while you finally got rid of the nuisance in your life, you were looking forward to finally being able to spend a moment alone, at peace, with no one to constantly try to stick by your side— the failed attempt to do so by going to your aunt’s place only left a bitter taste in your mouth.

So, to say that you’re confused when you see the small bouquet by your door is an understatement—more so when you spot the pretty burgundy envelope tucked in neatly.

They’re roses; and from what you can tell, they’ve been sitting outside for quite a while—most likely since you’ve been at work. The flowers smell sweet, the petals spread beautifully and tinted a deep color that almost matches the envelope— you gulp as you attempt to calculate how much they might’ve cost.

But who would do this? You don’t know anyone that would be the type to give you flowers; maybe that’s why your hands are so shaky when you open your door.

You’re reluctant to make your way to your kitchen counter; there’s a heavy pit that has formed in your stomach. You’re unsure why, but your mind seems to tell you that something isn’t quite right about your sudden gift. The flowers are soft as silk— the arranger must have been quite the professional, because they still seem to be alive and fresh despite the countless hours they must have spent outside; but you brush those thoughts aside, taking a deep breath as you finally dislodge the small envelope from its hiding place.

There’s a wax seal on it— the image of a heart has been stamped into it, the wax a midnight blue so dark it almost passed off as black. Carefully, you took the seal off, surprised that someone would still communicate in such a manner, and opened the letter.

“What… the… fuck?”

My dearest ___,

I know it might seem surprising to have such a gesture delivered to you out of the blue, but I don’t think I can hold back any longer. I’m content simply watching from the sidelines, for now, so don’t worry too much about me; just know I mean well. I’m too scared to say any of this to you in person; I know that you don’t feel the same about me. But I’d hope to change your mind through these gifts that come from the heart— that come from my heart.

Did you like the flowers? I know that roses are quite the cliche flower, but I can think of no better way to start things off than with something as simple as this— something that can show you just how much I love you. Of course, if you don’t like them, then I’ll stop sending them; but then again, I’ll be sure to never send you the same thing more than once. You deserve to be spoiled.

You looked so beautiful today; you always do, honestly. I just wish I could get you on your own, at peace for one moment, but there’s always someone that wants to get in the way of us— it seems like you can never be alone for one second. Do you feel the same way? You know, I could help everyone go away, if you’d let me.

Then it’d be just us two.

Stay safe,

I’ll always watch over you.

The envelope slips from your hands, and it falls on your counter with a heavy thud. Out slide more small contents, and you can already feel your whole body go numb as you pick it up— there were three pictures inside.

And fuck— they were all of you.

Studying in the corner of the cafe you work at during your break, a frown on your face as you concentrate hard on your screen— a picture of you in the park, walking along your usual trail; only it’s been taken from behind, zoomed in so much that the picture has become a bit blurry. Shakily, you flip to the last picture, your mouth going dry as you drop the picture immediately— it’s you, standing in the kitchen, cooking something as the picture seems to have been taken from outside.

The pictures land gingerly on your counter, flipping over to the backside as you spot something else— more writing. You’re sick to your stomach as you pick them up, your other hand gripping the counter as you feel your knees threaten to give out under you— a sob threatens to escape you as you read the comments left behind each picture.

“You look so cute when you’re concentrated. I wish you would take a day off once in a while though.” the first one says, your fingers digging into the photo the longer you survey the writing. Reluctantly, you move on to the next one, eyes stinging as you read.

“Monthly visit— I’m glad to see you’re eating well.”

Oh god,you think, forehead hitting the counter roughly as you let out a shaky sigh, lips dry as you feel the way your skin has become clammy, monthly. Monthly visit.

And before you can stop yourself, you read the last one, the picture shaking so harshly that it takes you a second before you can properly read what has been written on the back— but once you do, you think you might just collapse on the floor.

“I love walking with you. I’ll keep you safe.”

Fuck.

“Fuck!” You seethe, racing to all your windows and closing all the blinds immediately, double checking all your locks as you tried to remain out of sight from the windows, much too afraid of what you might find outside. Your heart is pounding and your body is trembling, your breath labored as you finally stumble back to your kitchen— only to slide onto the floor, hiding in the corner and as far away from all windows as possible.

You’ve always enjoyed looking outside your windows— enjoyed the pretty scenery, the quiet neighborhood, and the sun that always brought light to filter into your kitchen beautifully with every sunset— your stomach twists roughly at the thought of your innocent actions being used against you in such a way.

The letter and the pictures are crushed in your hands; they’ve been typed neatly, the font practically mocking you as it impedes you from trying to identify the handwriting— even the comments on the pictures have been typed out, printed out on sticker paper as they stick neatly to the center, the cutesy comments doing nothing to calm you down.

Who were they? What did they want?

Where were they?

You can practically feel the sob explode from you as you begin to shake, your form curling up as you find yourself too afraid to move— too afraid to lift your head, to open your eyes, to do anything.

And for once, you really wish you weren’t alone.

Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad?

-♡♡♡-

Beomgyu knows something is wrong the moment you walk into class.

You’re tired, sluggish even, as you spot the man sitting in his usual seat— he tries to hide his surprise as you beeline to him, setting your bag down as you scoot closer to him subtly. Your clothes are in disarray and your eyes are red, and it seems like you haven’t gotten any sleep at all; his heart twists seeing you in such a state.

“___,” Beomgyu says, turning to you as he observes you; you’re practically falling asleep in your seat, jumping up in alarm at the sound of the man calling your name— you feel a bit shaky as you meet his questioning gaze.

“What happened?” A part of you is grateful to see how quick to notice Beomgyu is; but you hesitate to answer nonetheless, unsure of what to tell him as you look around the class nervously.

“It’s, uhm…” you shift awkwardly, your hand reaching for your bag hesitantly; the letters you’ve been receiving inside— you had planned to meet with Yeonjun to show them to him. “Are you busy today?”

Beomgyu frowns; you’re restless, eyes darting around the room as if you were in search of something. Body stiff, he watched the way you flinch as your eyes dart back to him, almost as if you were afraid to see that he was already looking at you.

“I’m not,” he says slowly, carefully leaning in towards you. It’s as if you’re a wild animal, watching intently as he places a firm hand on top of yours; his heart sinks as he watches you flinch again.

“Are you okay?” He tries again, the warmth of his hand allowing you to ground yourself as you look into his eyes. You say nothing, and a moment passes before Beomgyu seems to realize that you won’t answer that. “Have you slept at all?”

You both already seemed to know the answer to that— of course not. You couldn’t help it, remaining huddled in your room night after night as you listened intently for any noises that could give you a sign of whether or not there was someone else home with you. Your body feels weak as you attempt to lie to him, to pretend as though you weren’t as much of a wreck as you seemed.

“I…” you hesitate again, pulling your hand away from Beomgyu as you turn away from him. “I’ll tell you later.”

You hear the man let out a soft “Okay,” the words bringing about an unexpected flood of relief in your system as you force yourself to stay awake. You can feel his stare on you for the rest of class, but you try to ignore it in hopes that he won’t question you anymore; to your luck, he seems to have taken the hint.

And even if you had only planned to tell Yeonjun about the sudden letters you’ve been receiving, you’re glad that you managed to bring Beomgyu along with you—you’ll feel safer this way.

-♡♡♡-

“What the fuck.”

You don’t know why you feel like this— embarrassed, self-conscious, anxious— you weren’t the one that wrote these letters; yet you can’t help but feel this way as you watch the two men across from you read your letters over and over, looking at the pictures with such rage and disgust that you’re shrinking down in your seat in anticipation.

You currently sat in a booth of a restaurant, hidden from view as you finally built up the courage to pull your letter out of your bag, explaining to them the events from yesterday as you silently hope that they’ll be able to help you— their shocked looks and speechless faces don’t seem to be very promising so far.

“I just don’t know what to do,” you admit, downcast as your trace shapes on the table absentmindedly, “I think we should take this to the police.”

“I think so too,” Beomgyu says, eyes filled with rage as he looks at the picture taken of you in your home, “but I don’t think they’ll be able to do anything just yet. We need to wait— get more evidence. Show that they’re serious trouble.”

“Wait? Are you fucking crazy?” Yeonjun is quick to shut the other man down, slamming the letter on the desk as he stares at the man in disbelief. Sitting up, you feel a rush of anxiety run through you at the sight of your friend getting so worked up. “___, you can’t stay there. It’s too dangerous.”

“What? No, no no,” you say, catching on to what your friend is implying as you shake your head, “Yeonjun, I don’t want to bother you— what if… what if I bring them to you, too?”

“I don’t care,” Yeonjun says, stubborn as ever even as he listens to your weak rebuttals, “I’ll stay at your place, then. You can’t be alone like this.”

He’s right— you know this, but you still can’t help but want to refuse his offer, much too afraid that you’ll inconvenience him— or worse, get him involved.

“I just…” you bite at your lip, fighting back the sudden lump that has formed in your throat, your eyes stinging as the lack of sleep comes back to bite you, “I’m scared. I don’t want to get you roped up in this too.”

“We’ll be here for you,” Beomgyu quickly says, reaching over to grab your hand once more. You look down, taking a deep breath as he squeezes your hand gently, “we’ll keep you safe.”

You know he means well, but you can’t help but shudder at his words— an eerie echo of the letter.

It’s okay, your mind tells you, attempting to calm down your nerves as you squeeze his hand back, they’ll protect you.

You’re safe.

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun quickly offered to take you home.

After stopping at a pharmacy to get you some sleeping pills, he dropped you off, reassuring you that he would stay with you while you rest. Yet despite his promise to stick with you at all times, you currently found yourself home alone, waiting patiently for your friend to come back; he left to get an overnight bag, swearing up and down that he wouldn’t take long.

A part of you wished that Beomgyu was here with you now, but you had already declined his offer back at the restaurant— you didn’t want to inconvenience him, either. But now that you’re here, counting the seconds away as you listen carefully for any abnormal sounds, you can’t help but wish that you accepted his offer; maybe then you wouldn’t be pacing back and forth in front of your door, checking the time restlessly as you debated on calling your friend.

And when you hear the crinkling of paper under your foot, you could only feel the regret sink into you more, the feeling heavy as you slowly look down, taking a step back to see what you’ve stepped on.

Another letter.

Oh god, you think, sick to your stomach as you lean against the wall, how long has that been there?

You’re too afraid to pick it up, but you can tell that it’s been there for a while by the footprint of your shoe that tainted the paper— you probably didn’t notice it when you came in. But that doesn’t stop the overwhelming fear that rushes through you, your knees weak as you slowly bend down to grab the envelope; the same blue seal greets you as you turn it over.

Should you open it now? Should you wait? Your mind is racing as you stare down at the envelope, picking at the seal as you feel your heart pound against your chest. Sighing, you go back to your couch, shakily sitting down as you finally decide to open it, the curious itch inside you begging you to get it over with now.

___.

How could you? This letter was meant to be a connection between the two of us— so why would you show it to them? You know, I was willing to excuse just how much time you’ve been spending with them, but now that I’ve seen just how ungrateful you are, I’m not sure if I can.

Everyone makes mistakes— and that’s okay. I’ll be willing to forgive you, my love, but don’t show them anything I give you ever again. Everything I send to you is meant for your eyes only, so if I ever see you sharing my gifts with others, it won’t go well for you— or them.

And trust me, I will know.

I hate that it’s had to come to this, my love. But promise me you’ll be good and listen to me, okay? I’m sure you’d like to keep Yeonjun safe and sound, right? Oh, and Beomgyu too— it wouldn’t be right to have something happen to them because of your actions.

I still love you, my lovely, but know that this stunt of yours has cost you a bit of my trust; I guess I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you.

I trust that you’ll be smarter from now on.

Stay safe,

I’ll always watch over you.

The paper crumbles under your hold as you grip it tightly, tears staining the paper as you read the letter again— and again, unsure of what to do with the situation at hand. You didn’t know what this person was capable of, and you really didn’t want to find out— a chill ran through your body at the very thought.

It was as if the letter wasn’t enough to prove his words, because three more pictures seem to follow along with the message, your heart heavy as you finally gather enough courage to see what else this psycho has sent you.

The first is a picture of you and Beomgyu walking into the restaurant, your weary gaze looking around the area to see if anyone had been following you— yet despite that, you still weren’t able to notice the person who took this picture.

Why must you act this way? The back reads, the neat font a mocking reminder that there’s no way you can trace these to a person, I would never harm you.

The second picture is taken when you’re already sitting in the booth, the clear view of your face bringing about another wave of panic inside you as you realize that they were in there, with you, and you never even noticed.

You look distraught, tracing shapes on the table as Beomgyu’s shoulders barely come into the frame—just when you thought you would have thrown him off, they still manage to find you— and take pictures of you, too.

No matter where you try to go, I’ll always find you. The picture says, the words only leave a sick feeling inside you, with ease.

The last picture was taken at the pharmacy, your weary figure leaning against Yeonjun as he looks through the medications before him, his arm wrapped around your waist in support. You feel hesitant to read what’s on the back.

Are you kidding? How do you allow him to be this comfortable with you? Do you like him? There’s only one person meant for you, my love. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to ignore his behavior.

You’re crying now, shoulders shaking and chest heaving as you struggle to keep your composure, the fear of someone following you and threatening the relationship with your friends bringing a horrible ache to your head. Your lungs burn as you try to calm down, but are unable to do so as you glance back at the letter before you; you put everything back in the envelope, shoving it into the crevice of your couch cushions as you try to rid the letter from your mind.

Your house is silent save for the sounds of your crying, yet you can’t help but freeze as you hear a sound resonate throughout the house; your breathing stops. Frozen, you carefully look up, surveying your house as you wait for another sound— you’re standing, ready to make a break for it at any moment.

At the sound of a soft creak, you’re sprinting to the door, all paranoid thoughts discarded as a new goal enters your head: get to safety. Swinging the door open, you can’t control the scream that erupts from you as you’re met with the sight of men at your door, your hands flying up instinctively as you stumble back— only to trip over your own feet, flying back as you collide with your hardwood floor roughly.

“___!” The voice is unfamiliar in your mind, your vision hazy as you struggle to breathe— you’re gasping for air, tears leaving your eyes rapidly as you try to back away from the approaching figure; but it’s useless, your weak body easily encased in the man’s arms as you attempt to push away from him, his soft reassurance falling on deaf ears as you become disoriented.

“She’s having a panic attack,” the other voice says, the man coming closer to you as he takes a seat on the floor. Firmly, he grabs your hands, fingers intertwined with yours as he speaks, “It’s us. Yeonjun and Beomgyu. You’re okay, I promise.”

His words break through your blurred mind, soft hiccups leaving you as your cries go quiet, eyes screwing shut as you shakily gasp for air. You can hear their soothing voices attempt to ground you, but it’s hard to focus on anything as the fear that paralyzed you still lingers in your system. It takes you a while, but by the moment you’re able to calm down, you’re grabbing onto Beomgyu, bringing him in closer as you whisper in a panic.

“There’s someone here,” you say, ignoring the way he frowns at your words, “there’s an intruder— please, we have to leave.”

“There’s no one,” Beomgyu reassures you, trying to calm your panicking mind even as you refuse his claims, “I promise you it’s just us— here, I’ll go check.”

Beomgyu ignores your quiet plea to stay as he goes to check every room, corner, and hiding place, looking for anything that may show signs of someone else’s presence. But when he returns, he can only shake his head as he tells you that you’re safe— that there was no one here.

“But I thought,” you whimper, your mind going back to the sounds you heard a moment ago— it all seemed so real. But one look back to Beomgyu tells you that he’s not lying, his soothing reassurance that you’re safe doing little to calm your restless mind.

Maybe you were imagining it.

For the rest of the night, you’re unable to get rid of the paranoia that clouded your mind, trying your best to avoid walking past windows as Yeonjun and Beomgyu stick by your side— their presence is the only comfort that allows you to sleep at night.

“We’ll sleep in the living room, I promise you’ll be safe,” Yeonjun says, kissing your forehead gently as he takes a look at your face— you’re still shaken from the events that transpired earlier, and he wishes he had never left your side as he remembers the fear that filled your teary eyes as you looked at them. Beomgyu stands next to you, nodding his head as he takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he sends you a reassuring smile. You say nothing, your mind panicking as you watch them turn to leave.

“Wait,” you’re meek as you grab onto their shirts, pulling them back weakly as they send you a curious look; the embarrassment from your actions floods your body quickly.

“I don‘t… I don’t want to be alone,” you say, flushing as you stare down at the floor, “Can you stay with me? Both of you?”

They say nothing, and you can already feel the regret creep up for asking, yet just as you’re about to take back your request, Yeonjun takes your hand, your head snapping back up as you look at him; your hopeful eyes give you away quickly.

“Of course,” Yeonjun says, smiling fondly at you, “whatever you want.”

It’s a bit awkward as you try to explain that you don’t want them to just be in the room with you, but you’d actually want them to be next to you as you sleep— you’re all flustered as you finally propose the idea. Yet in the end, they can never say no to you; so you’re finally able to sleep as they hold you close, Beomgyu’s hold on your hand and Yeonjun’s arm thrown over your waist, their promise to stick close to your side finally allowing you to calm down.

The letter in between the couch cushions is forgotten.

-♡♡♡-

It’s been a while since you’ve been able to enjoy your life.

Your days are filled with nothing but paranoia and fear, your skittish behavior not remaining unnoticed by your friends as they continue to ask what’s wrong— but you refuse to tell them anything.

“But the letters have stopped, right?” Yeonjun asks, sitting across from you at the library table as he watches the way you’re unable to look up from your laptop, afraid that one look at him will be all it takes for you to fold.

“Yes,” you say hesitantly, pretending to be busy as you pause, “but it’s just… hard to get over.”

Yeonjun is understanding of that— he thinks you’re doing better, ever since you decided to stop clinging onto them helplessly; but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

The letters never stopped— if anything, they only got worse. They were filled with detailed words of this psycho proclaiming their love to you, followed by countless pictures of you— with your friends, alone, even in places you swore were practically empty— places that made someone pointing a camera at you easier to spot.

That had become your new strategy— when you weren’t at home or work, you resided in the loneliest, quiet public places; the library being one of the most common ones. It was unhealthy, but you kept every letter, gift, and picture, poring endlessly over every minuscule detail as you tried to find anything that could trace you back to them— whether that be the camera angle, speech patterns, or gift brands.

Yet, you couldn’t find anything— No two gifts were the same, the speech this person used was too formal for it to ever be used in real life, and every picture taken was different; even when they were taken in the same locations, the camera angles were always different and unpredictable.

In the end, you were just as obsessed with your stalker as they were with you.

Your life was no longer the same— every moment you stepped outside the house was a moment where you were being watched, a moment where you were left vulnerable to the eyes of your stalker; and sure enough, every second spent outside would be captured and sent back in the same, deep red envelope.

The letters piled up, your wariness of those around you growing as you wracked your mind of ways you could get rid of this mystery person— you’d give anything for them to leave you alone, even for a single day. It even got to the point where you ordered a bat online— for protection, you told yourself. You tried to set up cameras around your house too, but every time you thought the culprit was at your doorstep, it would just be the mailman, there to deliver the same packages that haunted your daily life.

At first, it was nothing special— generic flowers, jewelry, chocolates; random things that always ended up in the trash or your pile of evidence.

Then, it got specific.

The sweater you stopped to look at while you were walking around the mall— an album from your favorite artist, the item so rare that it must’ve cost a couple hundred— Today’s item came in a small velvet box.

Carefully, you open it, your hands shaking as you realize what this stalker has gifted you— a necklace. But not just any necklace; of course not, why would they gift you something generic when they can gift you something eerily specific instead? Yelling in disgust, you toss the necklace on the counter, left in disbelief by the item.

It was a diamond necklace you had been looking at, giddy at the fantasy of ever owning it; one that you had only looked at online. You’d never said a word about it to your friends, let alone looked at it in public.

I’ll give you the world, the note attached to the box reads, all you have to do is ask.

The velvet box was quickly tossed into your pile of evidence.

You’ll never be safe, you think, your body ready to shut down on you as you glance down at the pile of letters before you tiredly, not as long as they’re around.

-♡♡♡-

Your behavior change is noticeable to everyone— especially Soobin.

It was as if he noticed immediately—being extra kind to you, offering to do so many things for you as he tried to get you to rest as much as possible. It was sweet really, if his underlying crush didn’t make his motives so obvious.

His offers to eat together or hang out were swiftly declined; you couldn’t imagine having someone new come into your life at the moment. And when he hinted at having feelings for you, you were gentle to reject him, saying that you weren’t in a good place in your life to think about relationships. In the end, he was sweet nonetheless, comforting you when needed and allowing you to take small naps on your break— a small pastry would be left near you when you woke up. (Courtesy of the alarms Soobin would set up.)

You remember the first time you woke to the sweet gesture, confusion filling your mind as Soobin had left a note next to the pastry. “It’s not much, but take it as a token of my gratitude in return for what you did :)”

It took you a while to figure out what he meant by that— you chalked it up to the time you covered for his shift, not bothering to ask as you ate the pastry hungrily.

Then, it seemed as if something changed; suddenly, you didn’t mind his constant acts of kindness, the smile he flashed you as he complimented you shyly a lot cuter than it was before. You found yourself excited to see him when you went to work, eager to make conversation whenever you had a chance. He was quick to notice this change too— quick to pick up on your new view of him.

So he tried again, asking if you’d like to eat together outside of work; when you said yes, he broke out into the cutest dimpled grin. He was like a giddy child around you, your relationship strengthening as he stuck to you like glue— he felt safe, constantly checking up on you and your health when you weren’t at work, bringing you meals and buying gifts despite your constant reluctance to accept them.

With one last leap of faith, you finally decided to let Soobin into your life; the prospect of liking him didn’t seem so sour anymore. Maybe it was because of his caring nature, or maybe it was because of the way your letters seemed to have ceased, even if it would just be for a moment.

My dearest ___, the last letter you received read,

It pains me to say this, but my letters to you will cease briefly— I will be traveling for a bit, but I will be back. Maybe, once I get back, I’ll gather the courage to see you in person.

I know this letter is brief, but I have important business I must attend to; I trust that you’ll wait patiently for my return. In the meantime, I leave you this gift— I hope you’ll think of me as I will of you.

Stay safe,

I’ll miss you dearly.

The gift mentioned was another necklace— a golden chain with a heart pendant on it, the color the same red as the envelopes you received. The necklace was stored with the rest of your gifts quickly, a shiver running down your body as you read the note attached to it— I hope to see you wearing this when we meet— for I will have one to match yours.

So, as much as you wished to give into Soobin’s flirting and sweet gestures, you knew you couldn’t; what you needed was to plan for your stalker’s return.

-♡♡♡-

“It doesn’t make sense,” you whisper to yourself, staring at the pictures laid out before you as you go over them once more, “How were these pictures taken? I don’t remember anyone being there.”

In the end, your attempts to make sense of everything were futile; your stalker covered up their tracks nicely. You were obsessive, ignoring the outside world around you once more as you received a postcard in the mail today— a bitter reminder that you weren’t out of the woods yet. The small postcard had been waiting for you when you woke up, your throat drying as you carefully picked it up— there were no addresses or stamps on it.

I’m finally home. I missed you so much, it felt great to be in front of your home again. I hope you slept well, my lovely.

When you first read the postcard, a wave of nausea washed over you; you almost fainted on the spot. They had been at your house while you were sleeping— they could have broken in if they wanted to. A shaky sigh escapes you, your body sweaty as you make your way to your laptop; if they had been here, then surely the cameras you set up must have caught it.

Biting at your lip, you scroll through the footage impatiently, eyes wide open as you wait for the person to appear— but nothing comes. It isn’t until you’re checking the time and date that you notice it— there’s footage missing.

Your hands are shaky as you go to three am— the last time the cameras were working— and watch as the timestamp skips to four am swiftly.

A whole hour of footage. Missing.

How did they get access to your footage? How did they find out about your hidden cameras? You had made sure to put them up from the inside, angling them to look outside so your stalker wouldn’t have been able to see you put them up. And yet, it didn’t work. They still found a way to get around the protection you set up. Shuddering, you feel the heavy dread form in your chest as you fight back the tears that prick at your eyes.

You’re not sure if you want to leave your home at all anymore.

-♡♡♡-

In the end, you force yourself to continue with your life— the constant texts and calls from your friends asking if you were okay becoming a bit too much. You didn’t go to class, you called off work, and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your home anymore; you weren’t sure of what to do.

But the reminders from your stalker to keep your letters a secret forced you to continue as if nothing was happening; if any of your friends continued to pry, you’re not sure if you would be able to hold on to the truth much longer. Yeonjun was particularly persistent; constantly asking if the stalker had returned, if you needed him to come over, or if you wanted to stay over at his place. You were quick to deny it all each time, the piercing fear of seeing him hurt impeding you from saying a word. And in the end, it was just you, ready to take action on your own.

Your current plan was to go to the police— you would take Yeonjun and Beomgyu with you, using them as extra protection as you finally revealed to them everything that has been going on.

You knew you had more than enough evidence by now, and with the countless letters filled with threats you would be able to claim that you were in danger— maybe that would put more urgency on your case. It was going to be hard to track your stalker down, but the prospect of visiting the police station after work tonight was the only thing giving you hope.

“Are you feeling alright?” You knew you looked a mess right now, your suspicions only being confirmed as Soobin approached you, his lips in a pout as he observed you in worry, “you look tired.”

“It’s nothing,” you quickly shrugged off his concern, flashing him a bright smile as you tried to put on the perfect facade you’d been cultivating for the past months, “don’t worry about it.”

But Soobin remained unconvinced; He didn’t try to hide it either, attempting to make your shift easier by taking any workload off your shoulders, despite your constant protests. His affection was persistent, an unnerved feeling forming in your stomach the longer time passed. Maybe it was your horrid paranoia, but even the customers that came in seemed to leave you on edge, any passing look becoming a lingering stare, every smile becoming something more sinister.

By the time you were ready to go home, you were practically running to your car, unable to feel apologetic for the brief goodbye you gave Soobin— you were more than ready to go to the police station.

More than ready to finally get this awful secret off your chest.

Instinctively, you reached out to the passenger’s seat, expecting to feel the small box filled with evidence; only to feel nothing.

Fuck, you realize, letting out a frustrated groan as you smack your steering wheel, you forgot it at home. With a text to your friends to meet you at your home, you change course.

You make your way back home bitterly, angry that you had been so rushed to get to work that you forgot about the most important thing that could help your case. The sun had set an hour ago, the sky dark as every street was illuminated with streetlamps— yet even then, you couldn’t help the way your grip on the steering wheel tightened nervously.

Your phone buzzed— it was a text message. You glanced at it briefly, seeing Soobin’s contact name appear on your screen. Ignoring it, you continue driving, listening as your phone buzzes again— then again, and again, and again.

By now your body is tingling with anxiety, your palms clammy as you finally get the view of your house. You’re not sure why, but you’re urgent as you make your way inside, legs shaky as you grab your phone, reading all the text messages Soobin sent you.

Soobin:

I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight.

I really care about you, you know.

I would never do anything to harm you.

I love you so much.

My lovely.

This is just a coincidence, your brain told you, fumbling with your doorknob as you stumbled inside, don’t jump to any conclusions.

But how could you not? It was impossible, his speech patterns the exact same as the ones used in the letters— like the very one you seemed to step on now, you realize horribly; your breathing becomes staggered.

You practically ripped the envelope as you opened the letter, going to your bedroom as you read the letter; you were going to leave through the back door, praying silently that your stalker wasn’t around to see.

But it seemed as though life had other plans, because as you finish the small message, you feel yourself freeze with fear.

I miss seeing you happy. I’m sorry I let you down.

Please don’t go to the police, I promise I’ll do better.

I’ll make you happy— I’ll fix things! Everything will be as it was before.

Just wait for me, okay?

See you soon, my lovely.

The box of evidence wasn’t where you left it— it was gone.

No matter how much you trashed your room and looked through every nook and cranny, your mind concluded that he must have gotten to it first. He must have known about your plan for a while now.

The box of evidence was no longer on your list of priorities, you decided. Your main priority now was to get out of the house.

Yet just as you were exiting your bedroom, the front door bursts open, and in comes the very person you were dreading to see the most.

“Stay back!” You scream, tears pricking at your eyes as you stumble back, arm flailing behind you as you reach for anything to help you defend yourself.

“___!” Soobin steps forward, but stops as you yell at him once more, your throat raw from the force as you try to not fall from the fear that shakes you. You’re trembling violently, the sight of the man behind it all causing you to panic like never before— your lungs burn, unable to breathe properly as you try to think of any way that you can stall.

“Please, listen to me!” Soobin, you’ve realized, looks just as panicked as you— his eyes are teary, chest heaving as his hands remain stretched out towards you; he’s treating you like a wounded animal, slowly attempting to step toward you; but with every step forward, you take many more back, eyes stuck on him as the fear of him doing something unpredictable prevents you from running away.

“Leave,” you say, panting wildly as you attempt to muster as much courage inside you as you can, “leave me the fuck alone!”

Your voice booms around the small living room, the man before you flinching from the sheer force of the scream that left you— your throat stings, and you’re sure that you’re not getting enough oxygen in your system as you struggle to calm down.

“___, please,” he begs again, stepping back as he attempts to speak to you, “I’m not trying to harm you, I swear! It wasn’t, I’m not the one who—“

Before you can attempt to dispute his sad attempts to redeem himself, he’s tackled to the floor, your friends bursting through the door as they take him by surprise— you’ve never been more thankful for them in your life.

But, as you guessed, Soobin didn’t come empty-handed— a pocket knife is pulled out of his pocket, and before any of you can react, he swings blindly; and slices cleanly on Beomgyu’s shoulder. The man winces, grabbing onto his shoulder as he grabs onto the wound— you can already see the blood seeping through the cracks of his fingers.

“Stay back, you sick bastards!”

You’ve never seen Soobin like this— wild and violent, eyes blown out as he threatens Yeonjun and Beomgyu with the weapon. He’s taking a step away from them, and your eyes widen as you watch him come to you. And it seems as though Yeonjun notices, because before you can stop him, he’s diving to disarm Soobin.

“Yeonjun, no!”

You’re not sure what took over you— maybe it was panic, seeing the way that Soobin quickly kicked your friend away, straddling him as he brought a rough punch to his face. Or maybe it was fear, watching as the man brought the knife back, ready to hurt Yeonjun without a second thought.

Or maybe it was anger, your clammy hands gripping your steel baseball bat tightly as you used up the rest of your strength to swing at your intruder.

He drops instantly— the knife clattering on your floor as you watch him fall back, landing on top of Yeonjun’s legs as you pant harshly, your breathing labored and mixed in with your heavy sobs as your bat follows shortly, clanging onto the ground.

It rolls slowly, dipping into the puddle of blood that is forming around Soobin’s head.

“No…”

Your eyes glance back at Soobin’s figure, catching onto the necklace that peeks out of his sweater— a golden chain with a deep, midnight blue heart pendant hanging from it.

“I didn’t…”

Soobin is on the floor— Soobin isn’t breathing either, and the bat that you used on him is laying by his side.

“I didn’t mean to…”

But it doesn’t matter if you meant to or not. Because as you collapse onto the floor, your vision spotting as your legs give in, this simple fact won’t change.

Soobin is dead.

And you killed him.

My baby’s got a gun, I better run!

My baby’s got a gun, it goes—

-♡♡♡-

“Do you think we were too harsh on her?”

The car ride is silent, your unconscious body slumped in the backseat of Yeonjun’s car as they make their way away from your town— Yeonjun frowns, listening to your restless stirring behind him; but you didn’t wake, your body too exhausted from the past month’s events as it tries to compensate your lack of sleep.

“A bit,” Beomgyu sighs, leaning his head back to rest against the seat as he watches the autumn leaves fall around him. Pouting, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a golden chain as he thumbed absentmindedly at the pendant attached, “but it’s okay— she’ll have us around.”

Yeonjun can’t help the way he feels a strange serenity wash over him; there would be no one else where you were going, no one to distract or stress you out as you took this time to heal; took the time to put yourself back together as you leaned on them for support.

And he knows Beomgyu feels the same— from the corner of his eye, he sees the way Beomgyu has read over his work with a satisfied smile, the messages sent through Soobin’s phone becoming the final piece they needed to get away with things.

“We still need to get rid of that god-awful body,” Beomgyu sneers, going through his mental checklist as he groans. It’s been an hour since they’d been driving, and he could almost feel his nausea growing stronger at the reminder of what remained in the car’s trunk.

“Not it,” Yeonjun quips, suppressing a smile at the way Beomgyu gawks at him. He laughs, the younger man shaking his head in disapproval at his words.

“If my arm wasn’t fucked up I’d punch you,” Beomgyu mutters, glancing back at Yeonjun as he added, “Add another bruise to that face.”

“Hey man, I didn’t actually expect him to fight back.”

Soobin had simply been another step in their deluded plan to get you to rely solely on them. They had let him in on the letters that had been sent to you, taking him with them on their way home to you— they made him believe you were in danger.

“This is sick,” he said in the backseat of Yeonjun’s car, unaware of what was coming for him as they led him to his demise, “I can’t believe someone would do this to her.”

“Well, it’s quite easy really,” Beomgyu had said, turning in his seat as he cast Soobin a mischievous grin, the car parked as he sent him a wink, “especially when she doesn’t suspect the ones she trusts the most.”

Beomgyu still feels the tingle of excitement that ran through his spine at Soobin’s reaction, the slow realization that dawned on his face as his jaw dropped; followed by his wide eyes, pupils flooded with horror as he rushed to get out of the car— and ran straight to your home.

“Poor thing thinks he can save her,” Beomgyu pouted, watching the way Soobin bursts in your door roughly— the crazed image he made for himself was unintentional, but perfect nonetheless. They had waited outside for a second, listening to the powerful boom of your voice as you tried to defend yourself; he remembers how he shivered in delight at the sound, finding your willpower to survive quite pleasant.

They had never meant for you to be the one to kill him— no, not one bit. If anything, the dirty work was meant to be done by Yeonjun, staged as an accident the moment he dove to tackle Soobin— the glint of his pocket knife appeared under the street lamps as he drove. But in the end, your small kick of adrenaline and instinct only helped them more— because at least now they wouldn’t have to justify their murder to you.

But you would.

Their image would remain pristine, and you would have to cling desperately to them as you begged them to not see you in a different light— to not see you as a killer.

They can hear your turmoil now as your toss and turn in your seat, sweat gleaming on your forehead as you mumble incoherently. You’re frowning, catching their attention as you begin to thrash around, your body distraught as you fight against the seatbelt— you wake up with a cry.

“___!” Beomgyu says, slipping into his pleasant facade as he reaches back for you, wincing at the exertion as he grabs your hand gently. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Your teary gaze clears as you feel the hot trails run down your cheeks, your vision finally clearing as you feel the firm hold of Beomgyu’s fingers lacing with yours— he gives you a gentle squeeze, holding back a groan of pain as he did so; your head snapped up at the realization.

“Gyu!” You say, taking off your seatbelt and scooting forward despite his protests, “you’re hurt, don’t move.”

“This? It’s nothing, I promise.” Beomgyu says, turning in his seat as he faces you. Reaching out, he cups your face, a fond smile on his own as he caresses your tear-stained cheeks comfortingly. “What matters now is that you’re safe.”

He can see the stress that lingers in your eyes, the fear not yet subsided as you finally take a look at your surroundings— you’re surrounded by nothing but trees, the area unfamiliar as Yeonjun pulls into an unknown driveway.

“Where…” The house is at the top of a mountain, placed next to a cliff as it gives way to a view of a small town far off— a town you didn’t recognize. “Where are we?”

“We’ll explain everything to you later,” Yeonjun says, parking the car as he finally glances back at you— you gasp, taking in his busted lip and the bruise on his face. “But right now, you need to rest. Beomgyu will stay with you.”

“But what about you?” You ask, reaching out to touch his face— your touch is like a feather, cautiously grazing over his injuries as you pull back in a panic the moment he winces.

“Gonna go pick up some things from the store,” he says, gesturing to the town that seems distant from the rest of you. It seems as though he catches the worry in your eyes, because he pats your head softly, pulling you in as he gently kisses your forehead. “Beomgyu will explain everything. I promise.”

You’re hesitant as Beomgyu leads you into this new home, unable to stop yourself from glancing back to where Yeonjun remains, his soft smile and wave goodbye all you get before he drives off— solemnly, you continue to watch until his car is out of sight.

“Where are we?” Your voice feels unfamiliar to you; soft and vulnerable, your body still shaky as you cling onto Beomgyu— yet you can’t help it, your mind preventing you from being alone for a second as the image of Soobin’s lifeless body is burned into your mind.

“It’s a cabin my family would rent out for vacations, though we don’t use it at all anymore…” Beomgyu explained, refraining from cooing at the way you stuck to him, grabbing onto his good arm tightly as you looked around wearily. “We’ll stay here while everything cools down.”

While everything cools down.

It seems as though his words seemed to trigger something in you; you no longer felt like yourself, the memories of everything flooding your mind as tears began to flow from you endlessly.

The letters were gone. All your evidence that could have justified what you did, gone. All that would be left was Soobin’s body, and a murderer on the run; you.

You weren’t a killer. You were only trying to defend yourself, but now no one would believe you, and all your efforts to win this battle would be thrown down the drain.

“I’m not…” you mumble out, your brain slipping deeper into this strange space that leaves you vulnerable, seeking comfort as you attempt to wipe at your tears uselessly, “I’m not a killer.”

Beomgyu rushed to your side swiftly; he encases you, kissing the top of your head softly as he reassures you, soft words like “I know,” and “It’s okay.” escaping his lips repeatedly.

“I was just trying to defend myself!” You cry out, the image of Soobin’s lifeless eyes breaking you down as your body shakes, gripping Beomgyu’s shirt as you try to shake the vision from your mind.

“I know,” Beomgyu says, pulling away as he cups your cheek. Tilting your head up, he looks at you, smiling softly at the way your eyes sparkle under the dim moonlight. You’re perfect, and his mind practically spins at the way your pouty lips beg to be kissed. So he gives in, inching in slowly until your eyes are fluttering shut, the tears that cling to your lashes grazing your cheekbones like diamonds as he finally allows his lips to press against yours.

How long has he waited for this? Beomgyu has lost track, but all he knows is that no one will ever be able to compare to you. Your lips are chapped and bitten at, but it’s still perfect to him as you whimper, the comfort of his pillowy lips on yours a perfect distraction as you pull him in closer. He can feel you crying still, your mind weak and shaken as you desperately seek protection.

You’re divine. The perfect delicacy for him to indulge in, his hunger never satiating for as long as he’s alive.

Pulling away, he gently smooths out your hair, eyes lidded as he slowly takes in your face; his thumbs wipe at your eyes gently, sweeping your tears away before they slowly caress your cheeks. Finally, he allows himself to graze your bottom lip, laughing softly at the shaky breath you let out. He’s unable to resist the temptation, leaning back in as he gives you another firm kiss, his desire and love laced so deeply in it that he’s sure you’ll know just how much he means his next words.

“I believe you.”

And for now, that’s all you need.

-♡♡♡-

The first week is impossible to get through.

Yeonjun and Beomgyu try to make it more bearable, constantly distracting you and trying to keep your mood up, but it’s all in vain. You spend your days staring out into the small town, sitting near the edge of the cliff as you imagine a life where everything was normal— where your nights weren’t filled with the same recurring nightmares.

In your dreams, you relived the same night over and over— your mind filled with vivid images of Soobin reaching out to you, pleading to not let him die as you watched the life drain from his eyes. He always appeared as the same sweet guy from work, not the crazed stalker that ruined your life. Then there were nights when he wouldn’t die, taking the bat from your hands and forcing you to watch as he killed your friends instead; they would call for help, reaching out to you as you remained frozen in place, at fault for their deaths instead as Soobin left you with the aftermath.

It was especially bad the first night. You couldn’t sleep, and you remained a sobbing and broken mess as Yeonjun held you close— in the end, you simply slept from the exhaustion of all your crying, the comfort of Yeonjun’s arms wrapped around you allowing your mind to rest for a second.

But it wasn’t long before you woke up once more.

You still feel horrible for the way your friends had to deal with your distressed state, their reassurance never-ending as you would try to convince them that you were innocent— and would try to convince yourself that you didn��t see Soobin every time you close your eyes.

By the third day, it became a routine— the two boys would take turns sleeping next to you as they comforted you all night.

It was under the covers where Beomgyu would sneak his kisses— peppering them all over your face as he promised you that you were safe, that nothing would ever come to hurt you— that it wasn’t your fault.

Those seemed to be the only times where you truly believed his words; his hold on you was so secure, his lips soft and filled with such love and adoration as he failed to keep his hands off you, your body indulging in this new type of distraction, mind racing with possibilities the longer you felt his touch.

But you never caved in— much to both of your disappointment.

By the end of the first week, you almost felt yourself getting a bit better; the nightmares weren’t as strong anymore, and you felt your appetite returning for the first time in a while.

You found solace in the cookbooks that had been collecting dust in the kitchen— “they were my mother’s,” Beomgyu had told you, the solemn look on his face as he stared at the books preventing you from prying more about his family. You no longer had your phone; it was long forgotten back at your old home, the two boys reassuring you that having your phone would only stress you out more— and you wholeheartedly agreed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to watch the news channel, much too afraid of what you might find as you opted to watch random shows instead, spending your time cooped up inside as the fall air around you grew colder.

That’s how you spent your days— going from cookbook to cookbook, trying out new recipes as you lost yourself in this new comfort.

The boys still had to go on with their lives; much to your discomfort, they would leave you sometimes, whether that be to attend classes or go to their new jobs in the town nearby. “We can’t let them suspect us,” they would remind you as you would cling to them, begging them to stay as they tried with little effort to pry you off— sometimes they would allow you to try to convince them, the sight of you begging and needy just too cute for them to ignore.

But you? You had been dead to the world for months. Your disappearance would be nothing new; if anything, the two men assured you that they made an excuse for you.

“Here,” Yeonjun said one day, handing you something you hadn’t expected— your phone. “Your parents keep asking me about you because you haven’t talked to them in a while. You should call them.”

It was embarrassing, the way you panicked at the prospect of talking to someone who wasn’t them— someone who didn’t know of the horrible thing you had done.

“What do I say!” You asked, exasperated as your finger hovered over your mother’s contact, “what have you told them?”

“That you’ve been busy, mostly,” he explains, leaning against the counter as he glances down into the oven— you were in the process of making muffins before he interrupted you.

“Just tell them you’re alright,” Yeonjun says, gently taking the phone from your hands before he called the number for you; you gasped, stiffening up as the sound of ringing filled the room, “maybe even tell her you won’t be using your phone much anymore.”

There was no way your mom would be convinced by that— right? Biting your lip with uncertainty, you can already feel your mind flooding with many different lies you could tell your parents; anything to get them off your back. If they were to continue looking for you, you’re sure they would be able to spot the guilt all over your face immediately.

What would they think of you? Your family would be so disappointed; their child, a killer. Even if you spent day after day convincing yourself otherwise, you knew that your parents wouldn’t see you in any other light— and that’s why your voice shook as you spoke with your mother.

“I’m okay,” you say, huddled up in the corner as you lean against the counter, biting your nail nervously, “just been busy.”

“I know that you don’t really visit us often, but even this is a bit much,” your mother sighs, and you can hear the commotion of her cooking on the line, “why haven’t you called? I heard about the awful disappearance that happened in your town, I was so worried when I heard about it. Are you okay? Is something going on—?”

“I moved!” You blurt out, eyes widening as you look at Yeonjun, his face as equally as surprised as your own. “That’s why I’ve been so busy…”

You’re not sure why you did that; you panicked, surely. But the regret from saying that sinks into you immediately as you hear your mother’s excited chatter on the other line, your head spinning from its attempts to keep up with her.

“Ohh, I should come to visit then! It’d be so nice, I’ve never really liked that old apartment of yours, it was so secluded. Especially now with that boy that went—“

“Please don’t visit— yet…” you try your best to seem casual as you reject her, her questioning growing tenfold as she begins asking why, “I’m not done setting up! I want you to see it once it’s done. This was supposed to be a surprise.”

Her apologetic voice is heard through the phone, and Yeonjun watches with amusement as you stumble over your words, reassuring her that it was okay, that you’d let her visit soon.

“My service is really bad here though,” you say, sending Yeonjun a glare as he chuckles at your words, “so if I don’t talk to you for a while… that’s why. I haven’t been using my phone much anyways.”

It’s endearing, watching the way you try to insist that you’re not making excuses— even if you actually are. But Yeonjun knows that if your parents were to come and visit one day, you would be quick to give in and tell them everything— and he really can’t have that happening. So he gestures to you to wrap it up, pointing to the muffins as you jump in surprise, seeing that the timer is about to run out. Your voice is meek as you say goodbye to your mother, wishing her the best as you try to not choke up— you’re not sure when you’ll talk to her again without the fear of your guilt making you slip up clouding your mind.

And as you hand your phone back to Yeonjun, telling him that you “really don’t need it,” you try to avoid his gaze as much as you can, focusing more on the muffins before you as you hold back tears.

Yeonjun smiles, watching you as you slowly take the hot tray out of the oven. He can tell that it hurts you to be isolated so much, but the darker, greedier part of him is happy to see how easily you cut ties with everyone.

It was certain now— no one would come looking for you.

-♡♡♡-

He’s there.

In the corner of your room, watching you with blank eyes— you swear he’s there. You’re shaking like a leaf as you back up in your bed, eyes widening as he steps into the light— Soobin smiles down gently at you.

“My lovely,” he says, in that same voice he would use whenever he would tell you to rest during your breaks; the same voice he used to win you over, even if it was just for a moment.

“How could you?” He asks, and you’re frantically getting out of bed as he takes a step forward— you fall, your feet entangled in the sheets as you’re tripped. The air is practically knocked out of your lungs, but you don’t care much as he rounds over to where you are, his lips turned to a pout as he rubs the back of his head.

“Why would you do this to me?”

His hand comes around, and you gasp as you look at the red substance that coats him— blood. It streams endlessly out of him, you realize, leaving a trail behind him as he attempts to reach out to you.

“No no no no,” you gasp, crawling back as you stumble to your feet, bolting out the door. You can hear Soobin calling out for you, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the house as you try to figure out what to do. Soobin is dead, you know that much— so what was it that you were seeing now?

You can’t hide— you’ll be a sitting duck. You can’t run; you’ve never stepped a foot out of this house, never going as far as the backyard where the cliff was— the only thing around you for miles was a thick forest; You didn’t even know how to get to the nearby town.

You were stuck.

“Please,” you cry, your voice breaking as you watch Soobin finally appear at the entrance of the kitchen. You grab a knife, unsure of what else to do as you watch him closely. His eyes are looking at you, yet they’re oddly empty. He looks like a shell of a person, skin pale and veins peeking through as if he were translucent. His hair is matted and the trail of blood continues, like an endless stream.

“I didn’t mean to,” you say, holding out your knife in threat as he takes a slow step towards you, “please, leave me alone!”

He freezes, and you can’t help yourself as you shut your eyes, your head pounding harshly against your skull as the same fear as before enters your system. Taking a shaky breath, you open your eyes, surprised when you find no one there— not even the trail of blood.

“My lovely.”

Shrieking, you drop the knife, making a run for it as Soobin’s voice appears right beside you— you practically collapse in relief as you notice Yeonjun entering through the front door.

“Jun!” You yell out, rushing into his arms as he takes in your broken expression. You refuse to let go, nuzzling your face deep into your chest as you wet his sweater, “please, make him go away!”

Your words are unsettling— him? A glance around the house tells him that there’s no one else here, but he knows that you think otherwise.

“But there’s no one here,” Yeonjun gently says, pulling you away as he forces you to turn around, firm hands on your shoulders as he whispers for you to open your eyes. “See?”

Cautiously, you open your eyes— only to spot Soobin in the kitchen, leaning on the counter as he stares at you with a blank expression.

“Jun!” You cry out, and you can feel yourself slipping away as you cling onto him roughly, your mind doing its best to help you cope. You’re pulling him back, face still buried in his chest as you’re directing him towards the couch, walking backward until your knees collide with the furniture. Pulling him down with you, you ignore the sound of surprise that leaves him as he towers over you, arms on each side of your head as he tries to not fall on top of you.

You thought you were doing better— you all did, your restless nights ceasing as you were finally starting to find yourself again. But it all seemed to go down the drain, the sight of Soobin staring at you much too realistic as you shut your eyes again.

“Please make him go away,” you beg, pulling Yeonjun closer to you, his body obscuring your view as the sight of Soobin goes away— yet you can still hear him, the sounds of his disapproval reaching your ears as you shake your head uselessly.

“Make him go away?” Yeonjun asks, cupping your face as he leans closer to you. You look so fragile, and he hopes you can’t feel how quickly his heart is pounding as you continue to grab onto his sweater, “how?”

How?

Yeonjun can’t see what you see— that much is clear. What you need now is a distraction, your mind involuntarily going back to the nights spent with Beomgyu, nights where his arms wrapped around you and the feeling of his lips on yours was enough.

But Beomgyu wasn’t here.

Instead, you stare up at Yeonjun, observing him as you feel your heart slowly pumping faster— his pouty lips, his piercing eyes that stare down at you with such care and love that you wished you had realized it sooner.

He was always there for you— when you were sick, through your bad relationships, always there to care for you and pick you back up when things didn’t go right— he saved you.

You think of that night, of the way Yeonjun had been quick to jump at Soobin the second he noticed the man coming towards you. All those times when he put you first, spending time with you and caring for you in ways no one else could. Even now, as he waited for you to give him an answer, you knew that he’d follow your every command because he loved you.

The realization makes your head spin.

You feel vulnerable again, your mind on autopilot as you tug him closer— then closer, your lips brushing against his as you feel the way your brain begs for comfort, for someone to take care of you and protect you.

Recklessly, you pull him in, lips crashing against his and teeth knocking together as you grip his sweater, hoping he doesn’t notice the violent shake of your hands or the way your eyes are shut tight with fear.

In the corner of the room, you can still hear him, hear his protests and whines as you kiss the man before you, attempting to get him out of his shocked state as you carefully thread your fingers through his hair. And that seems to do it, and you feel Yeonjun jump into action as he places a hand on your waist, the other coming to place itself on the back of your head, pulling you deeper into his body.

You feel so small against him— you curl up against him, your frame clinging to him as he feels you still shake with fear.

“What do you see, baby?” He whispers against your lips, hands roaming over your body wildly as he attempts to hold himself back; but he can’t, years of standing to the side and waiting patiently manifesting itself into this desperate mess, a gross part of him hoping desperately that you’re vulnerable enough to give yourself to him.

You’re seeking protection from him— he knows this, and he was well aware of the different ways Beomgyu helped you cope; the jealousy that burned inside him lighting up once more as he pulled away, looking at your pretty lips and shining eyes that never seem to run out of tears.

“Soobin,” your voice is weak, trembling as you mention the man’s name, as if saying it out loud would bring him back to life. You’re traumatized, the memory of killing him still so fresh in your mind that your guilt has manifested itself in a new form; hallucinations.

“He’s not real darling,” the pet names slip from him effortlessly, and it takes him a second as he almost slips up, the term “my lovely” almost escaping him— who knows what kind of reaction you would have had to that.

“But I am,” carefully, he places your hand atop his heart, allowing you to feel the rapid beating that comes from his chest. He watches the way you stare at him, clearly avoiding a certain corner of the house as you sniffle softly. “It’s okay. It’s just us.”

“Make him leave,” you whisper, and he leans towards you, angling his body so it covers the spot you seemed to keep avoiding. He watches as you relax a bit, your hand pressing firmly on his chest as you focus on his beating heart instead. “Distract me.”

“Distract you?” He echoes, placing soft kisses all along your face— tracing along your cheeks, going up to your forehead, and down the bridge of your nose as he stops at your Cupid’s bow, unable to hide his smile at the way you whimper softly.

“How do I do that?”

It’s strange— you’ve never felt like this before; you’ve never thought of Yeonjun like this. But you need him now more than ever, your muddled mind seeking protection that he’s more than happy to offer to you; your stomach flutters with every brush of his lips against yours, and you can’t help the way your thighs squeeze tightly, the teasing laugh he gives you doing nothing to help the sensation.

“Please….” You whine, your hand that remained entangled in his blonde hair slowly tracing down, dipping shyly at his sweater as you felt the warmth of his skin underneath. “Touch me.”

Yeonjun has never had a harder time holding back.

His lips are back on yours, pulling you in so close to the point where you forget where he ends and you begin. The kiss is desperate and messy, the pace he sets for you hard to keep up with as you let him guide you; he’s biting softly at your lips, tongue tracing along them as he allows himself to tease you. You’re a mess, falling apart in his hold as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, shivering at the way you feel his hands play with the hem of your sweater.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbles, forced to pull away for air as he takes in your face; your wide eyes, lips swollen and shiny as you pant, unable to look away from him as you find yourself pulling him in for more.

He’s addicted, pulling at your clothes as you allow him to undress you, eyes hungry as he takes everything in— you only seem to grow needier by the second, allow him to lay you on the couch as you stare up at him in anticipation.

Then Soobin appears again.

“Junnie,” you whimper, slapping your hands over your eyes at the horrible sight— Soobin smiled at you, turning his head as he allowed you to see the damage you had done to him; the wound in his head so graphic that your stomach lurched with fear instead of pleasure.

Yeonjun picks up on your distraught state immediately— hovering over you, he gently pries your hands away, kissing your face softly as he encourages you to open your eyes; the sight of Yeonjun’s comforting smile is all you’re met with.

“Come here,” he says, putting your sweater back on as he helps you stand— you don’t say much, allowing him to lead you away from the living room as you keep your face buried in Yeonjun’s arm— Soobin’s light whispers follow you from a distance.

It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you finally summon the courage to look at him, the weight on the bed disappearing as you watch him search for something in his closet; he turns back around, a scarf in his hands as he smiles at you.

“Do you trust me?”

You flushed in realization at his words, taking a second to think about it— but you gave in, watching the way his eyes darkened, your body shivering as he took slow steps towards you; the room finally fell silent. Gently, he takes your sweater off— you feel shy under his gaze, his eyes so intense as he takes you in once more, sweeping down to look at the shorts you wore; the same shorts that always tempted him, bunched at your thighs innocently.

Brushing your hair back, he plants a gentle kiss on your head, bringing the thin fabric up as he finally covers your eyes— it’s tight enough so that it won’t slip off, your vision taken away as the sounds around you are all that’s left.

You listen to the wind outside— the leaves that rustle, the sounds of the heater turning on as the room is slowly flooded with warmth. But most importantly, you pay attention to Yeonjun, on edge as you listen to his soft breaths— you’re not sure how close he is now, or what he might be doing as you wait patiently.

Goosebumps rise along your skin— Yeonjun gently caresses your arm. Slowly, he takes your hand, bringing it up until you feel the softness of his lips press along your skin, giving you a soft kiss. Then another. And another, trailing up your arm as you shiver, the feeling of his breath on your skin and the addicting feeling of his lips making you reach out to grab something— you jump as you feel his hand encase yours, fingers lacing as he keeps it close to him.

His hair brushes along your cheek— the hot trail his tongue leaves on your neck draws out a small whine from you, his actions mischievous as his teeth bite at you teasingly, lips sucking as he takes note of what makes you squirm under him.

You’re leaning back, your body coming in contact with the mattress as your legs are left hanging, the feeling of Yeonjun gently prying your thighs apart as he stands between them making you tense.

In the dark corners of your mind, you hear him again— hear his complaints, his insults, and questions that attempt to draw back the guilt that threatens to ruin you— but you refuse to give in.

“Yeonjun,” your whine is immediately silenced, Yeonjun’s breath fanning across your face as his pouty lips graze yours. He understands what you want to tell him, but he won’t let you dwell on it any longer as his fingertips play with the waistband of your shorts, his head dipping into the valley of your breasts as he leaves a trail of kisses.

“Think of me,” he says, hushing your cries as he slowly pulls down your shorts, your panties being dragged along with them as the material brushes against your skin, unable to stop the way you shift nervously.

His hands are running along your thighs— they’re soft and warm, your hips jumping as you feel his breath fan on your stomach, a teasing kiss left just above your mound before you feel him trail down more.

“Think only of me.”

Yeonjun’s tongue is hot against your pussy— he’s licking a stipe along your folds, circling your clit teasingly as an unabashed moan escapes him; the sound of your own follows shortly. You’re like his own ambrosia, addicting and sweet as he doesn’t bother slowing down for you— why would he, when you’re taking him so well?

The image of Yeonjun in between your thighs is all you can think about. The sound of his moans and the depraved wetness that escapes you is all you can hear, your mind filled with nothing but Yeonjun as his lips encase your clit, sucking softly as his tongue licks over the bundle of nerves.

You can think only of him.

Without realizing it, your hands fly down to grip his hair, hips jumping up as you push his face against you harder— his nose bumps against your clit, a groan escaping him as he lets you ride his tongue the way you please. His hair brushes against your inner thighs, the ticklish sensation only making you more sensitive as you feel his tongue lap at you; taking everything you provide him, sucking at your pussy like a starved man.

He’s eager to hear the sounds you make, amused at the way your thighs clamp against his head at the stimulation. It’s dirty, his saliva mixing with your arousal as the wet sounds of your cunt fill the room, his eagerness to bring you to your high evident in his actions. His tongue teases at your entrance, his fingers circling your clit slowly as you whine for more. With a gasp, you throw your head back as he finally breaches inside, nose rubbing against your pussy as he loses himself in you.

You then feel a kiss along the valley of your breasts.

“Did I scare you, darling?”

You can only let out a depraved whine as you recognize the voice, clenching around Yeonjun’s tongue as the realization that Beomgyu has been watching dawns on you. With one hand still laced deeply in Yeonjun’s hair, the other reaches out blindly towards the sound of Beomgyu’s voice, landing hesitantly on his cheek. He chuckles, placing his hand on top of yours as he turns to kiss your palm, his other hand running down your body slowly; you shiver, feeling his nails scratching gently along your skin, stopping just at your naval.

You hear Beomgyu hum in approval, your body burning as you feel the coil in your stomach grow tighter. Beomgyu is above you, and you can feel the mattress dip as Beomgyu hovers over your lips, his voice quiet and dangerous as he speaks to you.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He asks, taking in the way you moan as you feel his hand continue to travel— beginning to rub at your clit as Yeonjun continues to fuck you with his tongue. The pad of his fingers are rough, but it’s nothing you can bring yourself to care about as he traps your bottom lip in his teeth, pulling softly as he chuckles meanly at you.

“Were my kisses not enough? Does our needy baby want more?”

You’re nodding along to his words, hips riding against Yeonjun’s face as your grip on his hair tightens more— he hisses, the sting in his scalp doing nothing to hinder his actions as his hands find purchase on your hips; his nails dig into the plush skin, pulling you against him more as he enjoys the surprised yelp you let out.

“Greedy girl, not being able to live without us,” Beomgyu says, his breath ticklish against your neck as he continues to tease you. His mouth is slowly trailing down, leaving kisses and sucking softly as a trail of marks is left behind— the thought of making you his plagues him.

“What would you do without us?” He asks, watching the way you shake under him— he can tell your mind isn’t truly there, your voice becoming louder as the coil in your stomach tightens; you’re dangerously close, the man’s words only bringing you more to the edge.

“You need us.”

Your mind blanks, mouth falling open as the coil finally snaps— his words echo in your head, your brain dumbly agreeing with him as you ride out your orgasm, the feeling of Yeonjun’s tongue cleaning you up making you cry out softly.

“Tastes so good, you’re perfect,” Yeonjun says, his voice suddenly closer as his hands remain at your waist affectionately. Before you can react, his lips are against yours, tongue prying you open as you taste yourself, the kiss harsh and messy as you feel drool begin to gather along the corners of your lips.

Beomgyu seems quick to catch onto your stupefied state—you’re vulnerable, the result of your restless mind forcing you to find comfort in whatever you could as the guilt continues to eat you from the inside; without them there to distract you, you’d fall apart.

“I need you,” you whimper quietly, your mind straying as you feel the reality of your situation beginning to creep up on you once more; you push it away, sinking deeper into this vulnerable state of yours as you seek to rely on their touch to lead you to somewhere so, so much better.

Your words are like music to their ears— it takes all their willpower to not lose control and fuck you senseless— because for once, you are coming to them. You’re the one begging desperately for their attention.

Your thighs are quickly pushed apart; you’re not sure who it is that’s positioned in between your legs, your hands reaching out uncertainty before they’re locked together, raised above your head and pinned by another set of hands— the room is silent, save for the pleasured sighs and gasps that leave your lips.

They’re teasing you. The realization strikes you as you feel fingers teasing along your entrance, stretching you open once more as they wait for you to break and beg for more— you’re not entirely sure of who it might be.

His hands are rough— grabbing your hips with a tight grip, cock head poking at your entrance teasingly as he barely pushes in, thrusting inside just enough to feel you squeeze around him before he’s pulling back out— it barely takes a second before you’re crying for him to stop with the teasing.

His hips move like water; rolling into yours, exploring how you feel as he bottoms out, a small groan escaping him as you piece together who’s above you— Yeonjun. His hands are smooth and soft as they grip onto your skin, panting breaths fanning above you as you feel the way he struggles to remain patient, your soft whines and the tight way you squeeze around him driving him mad.

“Yeonjun.”

His patience breaks.

He’s fucking you deliciously, hips snapping against yours as you feel the weight of his arms cage your head, the bed dipping in as reckless moans and groans leave his mouth. You’re no better than him, calling out his name as you wish to touch him, legs wrapping around his waist as you’re pulling him in, pushing him in deeper as your hips begin to move on their own accord.

You’re better than any dream he’s had; any fantasy, the nights where he could only think of making you his, wanting to bend you over the counter whenever he watched you cook— all those dirty thoughts that plagued him with guilt, all those times where he felt disgusting after he could only come from dreaming of the day he would fuck the obliviousness out of you— nothing compared to this.

You lay under him, flushed and sweaty as your mouth hung open, lips bruised and bitten at as drool slightly escaped you— you were too fucked out to care or notice. Unable to resist himself, he leans down, capturing your lips once more as he feels the way you squeeze around him, pulling him in more as your body begins to become more sensitive to him— the feeling bringing out another groan from him.

It feels warm— Yeonjun’s breath on your neck as he slowly grinds into you, a breathless whimper the only thing you can muster as you feel your body tighten up, waves of pleasure crashing onto your as you clench on his cock; the feeling of him grinding against you, his hot cum spurting inside you makes you dizzy for a second.

He’s off of you instantly. You’re left in confusion, twitching pathetically as shocks of pleasure continue to ignite inside you— then, you’re being filled again.

“That was so mean of you,” Beomgyu pouts, leisurely thrusting against you as he listens to your cries; he’s not as long as Yeonjun, but he’s girthier, the stretch catching you by surprise as your walls clench around him. It’s messy, the room filling with wet sounds as Beomgyu continues to fuck Yeonjun’s cum into you, grinning wolfishly at the way you squirm under his ministrations. He leans down so he’s in front of your face, nose rubbing against yours as he speaks quietly.

“Making me watch another man fuck you,” his voice is low and cruel, his fingers finding your clit as you jump at the with stimulation— Yeonjun has your hands clasped tightly in his now, watching with amusement as you attempt to break free from his hold, only to hold on to him desperately in the end.

“You can take what I give you, right?”

Beomgyu’s pace is brutal. His finger rubbed in circles on your clit, hips snapping against yours as he drinks in the way your overstimulated cunt still seems to beg for more; as he drinks in your desperate calls of his name.

It’s insane, the way cum is leaking out of you as Beomgyu’s hips stutter, the feeling of him finishing inside of you bringing you to your climax soon after; you’re shaking, a fucked out mess as you cry out Beomgyu’s name, the said man pulling you in for a slow kiss as his hips press deeply against yours.

“Good girl. You’re perfect.”

Praise leaves their lips like a constant waterfall— it’s like they worship you.

Your mind panics for a second, getting reminded of the sick content of your letters— of the endless praise, the way you were described as a god in their eyes. But even if the thought is alarming, you’re too weak to do anything, your body limp as you have no other choice but to trust the two men to take care of you— the blindfold comes off slowly.

A wet rag is swiped across your legs, cleaning up the sticky mess of cum that continues to leak through— slowly, you open your eyes, coming face to face with the man you’ve considered a friend for half your life— Yeonjun smiles at you.

And your heart flutters.

You’re not sure how you’ll deal with these newfound feelings— especially when they can’t seem to keep their lips off yours for even a second, seemingly not minding the fact that they’ll have to share you. It’s overwhelming, but your tired body and stressed mind don’t want to dwell on it— you’d much rather focus on the way they treat you like a gem, coddling you as they help you fall asleep.

You sleep perfectly throughout the whole night, protected from all danger in the safety of their arms.

-♡♡♡-

It’s not fun to cook the same dishes over and over.

You’ve seen everything on television— your room feels so stuffy, and the books that the boys acquired are not interesting at all to you as you spend your days staring out the window, at the winter scenery and the mountain that separates you and the rest of the world.

It’s such a quaint town in the distance.

What are the people that live there like? Are they friendly, or were they more reserved? Did they have a strong sense of community? Were they kept up with current events? How far would you have to walk to get there?

“You don’t deserve to leave this place,” the same voice as always spits out, venom laced deeply in its tone as it mixes with the deep self-hatred you’ve come to acquire for yourself, “Killer.”

It’s like Soobin never died— if anything, he simply returned to haunt you, the visions of him appearing randomly as his voice rings out in your head; sometimes, if you were feeling extra guilty, he would appear in his cute and proper uniform, ever the gentleman as he reminded you of how good he was to you before you discovered the truth— of how caring he had been.

“Did you ever hear me admit to it?” His phantom would ask, tilting his head cutely at you as you would try to ignore him, stirring the mixture in your hands with more force, “don’t you ever wonder what I was trying to tell you? You’re so cruel.”

He wasn’t real. Those three words repeated themselves like a prayer in your mind every day, unable to even look up from what you were doing the moment you would hear his voice— it was like he froze you, the guilt and fear piercing as you remembered what it felt to strike him against the head, the memory of your floor being stained with blood seared into your mind.

You looked out the window whenever Soobin would appear.

In your mind, you weren’t in an isolated cabin, on the run as you avoided being seen as a killer— by your friends, by your family, everyone. No, instead of being trapped here, you were in a new town, free to explore and wander as you took in the sights, the winter chill creeping around as you took breaks in a coffee shop, drinking warm drinks as you stared outside— maybe even at the falling snow.

You glance at the time.

Yeonjun and Beomgyu would be in their classes right now— they wouldn’t be back for a few hours.

A trip down there couldn’t possibly be that long, right?

You’ve never brought up the idea of visiting the nearby town to them— much less on your own. But you can’t help the excitement that bubbles inside you, slipping on a warm winter jacket as you put on some boots— it had snowed a bit a couple of nights before.

“You don’t deserve to be happy,” Soobin sneers, the pure manifestation of your guilt as he appears behind you in the mirror. You avert your gaze, staring down at your feet as you say nothing— the sounds of his footsteps follow you to the entrance.

“They’ll realize it’s you,” he whispers, suddenly closer than he was before as you slip on your shoes, grabbing a mask for safety precautions— you’re shaky, unable to tie your laces as you attempt to block him out, “they’ll find out you’re a killer on the run.”

“I’m not a killer,” you whisper firmly to yourself, remembering the pain and fear he caused you— he ruined your life; you simply returned the favor. Opening the door, you inhale the frosty air entering your lungs as you block out Soobin’s cruel whispers. Exhaling, you close your eyes, stepping out as you feel the crunch of the snow under your feet.

“I’m not.”

-♡♡♡-

Okay, you think to yourself, hands clammy and stuffed in your pockets as you glance around your environment, throat drying from anxiety, this was a horrible idea.

Why did you think this was actually a good idea? Huffing, you watch your breath come out in a smokey fog, your body shaking as the air gets colder— you tried to follow the path that seemed to go down to the city, but at some point, it just… disappeared.

You’d think that with the way the two boys would go to and from with ease that a clear road would be put in place. But you were proved wrong, the many faded dirt trails leaving you to stand still with uncertainty as you wonder if you should just go back instead; if you knew where you came from, that is.

Maybe it was the way time bled together at this point, days dripping into weeks like molasses as you found it harder to concentrate on your surroundings, your brain going on autopilot as you daydreamed instead— and it seemed like this was one of those times.

Did you take a turn? You’re surrounded by nothing but trees, compact and looming over you as they hide the sun, the last rays of light peeking through the leaves and branches as a way to warn you to pick your path and go; maybe you would make it home okay.

Hastily, you turn around, assuming that you were making your way back in the direction you came in; your steps are hesitant as you take in the vast scenery in front of you. Moments later, you see your cabin in the distance— a very far distance. Gulping, you begin to shake as you see how dark the night has become; the idea of walking alone in such a secluded forest makes you shake.

This was a bad, bad idea.

Oh god, you think, anxiety flooding you cruelly as you begin to panic, why would you do something like this?

You should’ve just stayed at home with the boys— it’s the only place where you’re truly safe.

Shifting nervously, you begin to pace back and forth, biting at your lips as you try to find the courage to keep walking— but you simply can’t. It’s like you’re stuck in place, not wanting to venture further in fear of what you might encounter. Just when you begin to doubt whether you’re going in the right direction, you hear the sharp call of your name, freezing involuntarily as harsh footsteps make their way to you.

“___!”

Beomgyu grabs your arm roughly. Shocked, you attempt to pull away, only to be pulled closer as you quickly find Yeonjun next to him, staring down at you with an unfamiliar look— anger? Disapproval? Panic? You shiver, eyes flicking nervously between the two as they pull you along the dirt path.

“You had us so worried!” Beomgyu says, pulling you along in a panic— you realize that Yeonjun’s car is parked right there, bright headlights on and the doors left ajar as they lead you inside. You’re caught off guard by the sheer force they use on you, stumbling on the road as you land unceremoniously on the leather seat of the car. Clearing your throat, you attempt to apologize, but are quickly shut down as Yeonjun sends you a sharp look.

“You disappeared without a trace!” Yeonjun says, brows furrowed as he turned in the seat to look at you, “You were gone for hours! Didn’t even leave a single note! How could you?”

Your stomach lurches involuntarily.

“I just— I don’t know what I was thinking,” you feel small, the fear of being lost finally sinking in under the pressure of their sharp glares, “I wanted to go visit the town nearby.”

It feels stupid to say it out loud— even more so when they shoot you an incredulous look, locking the doors as they make their way along the path; you notice that you were about to go down the wrong one.

“The town? Are you crazy?” It hurts to hear Yeonjun say that to you, especially with the way rage seems to seep off his tone. You had him worried, afraid that you had been trying to escape— only to find out that you had become a bit too open to the thought of moving on with your life. “Remember why we’re here, ___.”

His words feel like a stab through your heart.

“Remember why you’re here,” Soobin’s voice whispers lowly to you, the trees all a blur as the road before you becomes unrecognizable— you still have no idea how to get back to your cabin, let alone leave it.

You dragged them into this, your mind tells you, blocking out the sounds of their worried scoldings— you’re not sure if you can handle more reminders of your situation— they’re just trying to protect you.

But it’s a headache, spending day after day cooped up in the cabin, the place you once saw as a sanctuary quickly becoming no better than a prison; you simply wished for nothing more than to spend a day feeling normal, as you had once before.

It isn’t long before you’re pulling into the cabin’s driveway, the tight hold that Beomgyu and Yeonjun have on each of your elbows almost reminding you of prison guards preventing a prisoner from escaping.

-♡♡♡-

“She looks so cute when she’s concentrating.”

Yeonjun hums in agreement, peeking over Beomgyu’s computer to watch the way you carefully decorate your cupcakes, a frown overtaking your face from time to time— it’s cute to watch you talk to yourself, pacing around the kitchen as if you were arguing with someone.

“I didn’t think his death would take such a toll on her,” Yeonjun comments, observing the way you clap your hands over your ears, eyes shut tight as you shake your head in denial, quickly stalking out of the kitchen and running back to your room— their hearts flutter sickly as they notice the way you curl up, the plushies they got you pressed tightly against your chest.

“She must be feeling so guilty,” Beomgyu breathes out, in awe at the way you nuzzle tiredly into his pillow, “such an angel.”

Watching you carefully, he wishes nothing more than to comfort you and fuck you stupid while you hug your stuffed animal for support— but he pushes the thought aside, looking away from the scene and at the television that was currently on the news channel.

Any search for Soobin had died down; with no evidence of his whereabouts, the police investigation quickly dwindled until it was no more— it was satisfying to watch the way the boy’s name slowly faded from everyone’s mouths, from everyone’s mind.

Soobin’s body currently resided in the woods by the cabin, decomposed and disfigured beyond recognition— Beomgyu watched with bored eyes as Yeonjun followed his every instruction the day it happened, the ugly scar on his skin and stitches he needed from the wound only adding more to the satisfaction of it all. It gave the two a sick sense of pleasure, knowing just how easily they were able to sabotage your life, turning it upside down in a matter of months as you learned to rely solely on them— as your heart turned to them for comfort.

Your little surge of courage brought about a realization between the two; one wrong move and everything falls apart. If you had been trying to escape that night they found you in the woods, they’re not sure what they would succumb to in order of keeping you with them— safe and sound, of course.

So, in favor of keeping an eye on you again, they installed cameras in the cabin while you were sleeping— so while they were away, making sure that no one would catch onto the way the two men no longer lived at their old town the moment Soobin disappeared, they could still keep a close eye on you.

Just to make sure you wouldn’t attempt anything stupid like that again— they didn’t want to lose you.

-♡♡♡-

The front door is mocking you. These windows are nothing but a pretty decoration— you’re like a bird in a cage, forbidden to go outside and be part of a normal world once more.

You’re not dumb— they’re watching you.

It was strange, the way your fear soon transformed into rage, angry at the way they were allowed to live their lives while you were forced to disappear from the face of the Earth— the cameras they set up only served as a further way to degrade you.

You’re not sure when you first noticed them— maybe it was instinct, glancing up to the high kitchen cabinets, looking past all the clutter and into the dark corner; straight into the lens of a camera. You’re sure this has to do with your attempt to leave days ago, because the very next day, you were told sternly by the two boys that you should never leave this cabin— under no circumstances.

At first, you justified it as them being afraid that you would leave again, getting lost and being left in the woods alone and in danger; another measure put in to protect you.

But it didn’t take long before you began to resent them— how dare they leave you alone every day, allowing themselves to indulge in the last bits of normalcy they had while you rotted in this cabin? Was it any better than being discovered as Soobin’s killer? All activities you once did to make the time pass quickly became a joke to you; it was like you were a child, being kept complacent while they left to live their lives as they pleased.

“Look at you, so ungrateful,” Soobin would mock you, the grotesque scene of his injured figure still accompanying you in your daily life as you were forced to cope with it on your own— another thing you would begin to resent the two boys for, “turning against the people who help you— what, will you kill them too?”

You would never do that.

Instead, you hid.

You hid from their sight throughout the few hours they decided to come back to you, annoying them to no end as you refused to make even a sound— not even their cameras could help them now, learning their blind spots as you snuck around.

“___!” Beomgyu’s frustration was evident in his voice, the light of every room in the cabin turning on as he continued his search for you— Yeonjun wandered outside, phone flashlight aiming around as he looked for a hint of where you might be. They knew you did this to spite them, your petty actions annoying them to no end as they tried to explain to you repeatedly that everything they did was for your own good— that everything would be back to normal soon.

But how long would that be? You’re not sure how much time has passed, your mind spiraled too long ago to keep track. Watching the two boys numbly from afar, hands shoved in your winter coat as you hide in behind the trees, your eyes narrowed as you listen to their desperate calls for your name.

“___, what are you doing there?” Yeonjun’s voice is defeated as the bright light of his phone is aimed directly at you, watching tiredly as you flinch under the sudden spotlight. It isn’t long before you’re being dragged back inside, your protests and pouts falling on deaf ears as the warmth of the cabin hits you full force.

“Can’t you see? All I want is to feel like a normal human being again! It’s like you’re holding me hostage here!” Your complaints quickly go quiet as you take in the way Beomgyu looks at you, leaning against the kitchen counter as his arms are crossed over his chest— he’s holding something, but you’re unsure of what it is as it’s tucked underneath his arm. It’s his stare that silences you— dangerous, a calm rage as he takes in what you just said with a slow nod.

“Everything we do is for you,” Beomgyu says quietly, your throat drying as you take in the way they both practically glare at you— they’re sick of you playing games with them, avoiding them despite their efforts to keep you safe, to keep you as theirs.

“Do you think it’s easy to leave you here alone? Hmm? To think that someone might catch on and figure out just who,” Beomgyu tilts his head, brows rising as he watches the way your lips quiver at the anticipation of his words, “Killed Soobin?”

“You know I never meant to—“

“Of course,” It’s Yeonjun that speaks this time, gaze cold as you meet his eyes, face devoid of any emotion as he gives you a light push towards Beomgyu, “but it happened anyway.”

It happened anyway.

Beomgyu straightens up, your gaze weary as you watch him drop his hands to his sides— a collar is revealed.

Your stomach twists in alarm at the sight, attempting to take a step back before you’re colliding with Yeonjun’s chest— looking back, he simply raises a brow as you, a mocking twitch of his lips all he shows before he’s snaking his arms around your own, pressing them down at your sides— you’re trapped flush against him.

“If you didn’t want to be alone, that’s all you had to say,” Beomgyu says quietly, eyes lidded as he slips the collar around your neck— it’s a simple silver band with a small ball hanging from it, the metal cold against your skin, your eyes widening as you hear a snap at the back— you realize with horror that he locked it— the mischievous smile he gives you only confirms your suspicions, followed by the special key that’s dangles mockingly in your face.

“One of us will stay with you darling,” Beomgyu grins, and you can’t hide the way his words only serve to enrage you, the peck he places on your lips doing nothing to wash away the humiliation you feel.

You’re walking away the moment Yeonjun lets go of you, only to come to a horrible realization as you tug uselessly at your collar. It wasn’t a ball hanging from your necklace— it was a bell.

Cooped up in your room for the rest of the night, you realize miserably that you’ve become nothing more than a pet to them, the decoration around your neck serving as a way for them to keep track of your whereabouts. It jingles as you shift restlessly on your bed, anger lighting in your veins as you begin to resent them for their behavior.

But unfortunately for them, you’ve only just begun to fight.

-♡♡♡-

Something has changed.

Since when did seeing Beomgyu resting on the couch fill you with such dread? Why do the walls around you seem to be closing in on you much more every time you look at him?

Maybe it was the fact that looking at him reminded you of the one thing you could never have again— a normal life. Because as much as he coddled you, reassuring you that everything would be okay and that no one would find out, you knew that nothing would ever go back to how it was before. It seems that your brain has finally caught up, the dense fog of fear that clouded your mind clearing up as you realize that no matter how much they told you that it was all in the past, you would never forget.

“Come here, darling.”

It was impossible to hide from them, the bell that hung delicately on your neck giving away your whereabouts with every movement you made; even when you clasped your hands tightly around it, when you remained quiet and found a new hiding spot, they always seemed to find you with ease— it began to unnerve you, keeping you on edge every time they would call for you.

Beomgyu takes your hands as you land on his lap, straddling him as your hands find themselves on his chest for support. He smiles fondly at you, his hair tickling your neck softly as he begins to trail kisses along the column of your neck, arms wrapping themselves around your waist as he pulls you in.

“You look bored,” he mumbled against your skin, noting the way you stay silent, refusing to give him a reaction as he nips softly at your neck, “we should do something about it, don’t you think?

“I want to visit the town nearby,” you blurt out, feeling the way his hands go rigid on your body. His breath that fans your skin is all you feel from him, lips withdrawn as he takes in your words, “It’s suffocating in here.”

You’ve hit a nerve, you realize, watching the way he slowly straightens up, eyes hardened as his brow quirks mockingly. Attempting to hold your ground, you don’t look away, unable to hold back the way you gulp from the tension that fills the room.

“Really? You’re still on this?” Beomgyu says, straightening up as he swiftly begins to loom over you; you shrink under his hard gaze. “I don’t think you understand, ___; there’s a reason why we don’t want you to go.”

“And why is that?” You ask, attempting to keep your voice stern as you frown at his words; it’s not working, your unfazed act falling apart the longer he looks at you. You can feel your resolve shaking, the need to back down and leave subtly itching at your mind.

“Do you really think you could handle something like that? Being surrounded by so many strangers? You can barely handle being alone.” It’s not what you expected, and it feels like a slap in the face to have him remind you of your weaknesses in such a way. Roughly, you push away from him and stand, unable to defend yourself as he watches quietly— the worst part is that he’s right. How could you handle going to public places when months ago you could barely step out your front door? Your brain still feels like it’s in danger, constantly on edge and only getting worse at this new change in behavior that the two men have exhibited; but that only makes you want to leave more.

It’s sick, but Beomgyu almost begins to enjoy the way you fight back tears; he thinks you look cute as you try to seem strong, to seem as if you’re not ready to fall apart at the seams. As he watches you walk away, biting back a smile at the small jingling that comes from your every step, he knows that it won’t be long before you try to do something reckless again. But this new curiosity you’ve gained, constantly asking to go out, to leave, only gives Beomgyu more motivation to try harder.

Maybe, if you’re broken again, he can make sure that when you’re put back together, you’re perfect.

-♡♡♡-

Yeonjun has been your friend for years; surely, he’ll have a soft spot for you— right?

“Yeonjunnie,” you mumble, sneaking up behind where he sits as you rest your chin on his shoulder, peeking at his computer screen to see what he’s working on. Your voice is sweet as candy, hands wandering down his shoulders and to the expanse of his chest as you feel him tense under you. You’re whiny, calling out his name until he finally gives in to you.

“I’m so bored,” you sigh out, burrowing your face in his neck and leaning onto him as you hear the smooth rumble of his chuckles underneath you. Going around the couch, you lay down, head landing on his lap as you interrupt his work— he sighs, putting his laptop to the side before he��s looking down at you, a fond smile on his face as he plays with your hair gently.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Your clinginess is welcomed, you notice, the drastic change from your usual bratty behavior not being a rare sight. You hate to admit it, but you can’t bring yourself to hold grudges against these two when they’re all you have.

“Could we go on a walk?” You ask, eyes full of hope as you look up at him, “Just us?… Please?”

Yeonjun simply rolls his eyes at your question. You’re stumped knowing that he’s getting ready to lecture you by the way he sits up, tugging you up with him as you pout solemnly. Running a hand through his hair, he shakes his head, a disappointed sigh escaping his lips as he looks at you.

“___, what’s going on?” He says, watching the way you’re fiddling with your hands nervously. He’s irritated, the way his eyes are filled with anger unnerving you as you glance at the door behind him. “You’ve been asking Beomgyu the same thing too. Can’t you see that you can’t leave?”

“Why?” You say, standing up abruptly as Yeonjun watches you closely. You’re shifting on your feet, mind racing as you try to remember if the door is locked; you try to not make your constant glances at the door obvious.

“You keep me trapped here, I can’t even step outside for a second!” You yell, stepping back the moment Yeonjun also stands.

“It’s like you’re keeping me trapped, I—“ you pause, gulping as you take in the way Yeonjun is looking at you— it’s unfamiliar, this glint in his eye that tells you that he knows something you don’t. That even if you continue to struggle it doesn’t matter— he’s already won.

“You’re hiding something,” you whisper, palms sweaty as he tilts his head curiously at your words, “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Yeonjun hums, his voice low as he fights back a smile.

“Where were you the night Soobin ‘disappeared’?” Yeonjun asks, his tone mocking as he speaks. Snapping, his face lightens in realization, “oh, right!”

“You were the last person who saw him. You were working with him, so of course, there will be footage of that,” he frowns, placing a hand on his chin as he pouts, “Then he went missing. As a matter of fact, you did too. Those text messages you told me about wouldn’t help your case much either.”

You shake your head, eyes widening in disbelief as it all starts to click.

“They’re looking for you, ___,” Yeonjun says, watching the way you shake your head in denial,

“Soobin’s killer.”

Your mind is muddled and panicked as you push Yeonjun with all your might, catching him off guard as you bolt to the door; the only thing on your mind is the need to leave, to get fresh air for a second.

Yeonjun is quick to go after you— but it doesn’t matter, your clammy hands manage to open the door as you bolt outside, sock-clad feet coming in contact with the snow as you run out carelessly. You can hear Yeonjun calling after you, your adrenaline only causing you to push harder as you run into the woods, attempting to lose him as you take twists and turns.

Something’s wrong. This can’t be right, why are they acting like this? The bell on your neck jingles like an alarm, slamming against your neck as you pant heavily, the cold air biting your tear-stained cheeks. You can no longer hear Yeonjun behind you, an uncertain glance finally confirming your suspicions as you allow yourself to slow down— but you don’t dare to stop.

When did this all begin? They weren’t always like this, their eagerness to keep safe and happy a genuine priority when it all happened. Your chest heaves, lungs burning and head aching as you remember the first time you tried to leave— the first time they truly got mad at you.

After that, they didn’t dare to leave your side; the collar, the cameras, the constant watching, and the overbearing feeling as they didn’t even let you step out into the backyard. Your stomach sinks, and your feet begin to sting as they become soaked with snow.

They don’t want you to leave.

But why?

You don’t know how much longer you walk, but it’s enough to make you wary and paranoid once more by the time you’re found, unable to back away from Beomgyu and Yeonjun as the cold takes your strength quickly. It feels like there are needles attacking every inch of your skin, the feeling of Yeonjun and Beomgyu’s nails digging in only making things worse as you thrash around weakly in their grip.

“Let me go!” You cry out, your pleas falling on deaf ears as they echo throughout the endless woods. Your screaming is quickly cut short as Yeonjun slaps a hand over your mouth, fingers digging into your cheeks as he turns your head to face him roughly.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, face close to yours as his glare is enough to quiet you down, “you’ll only make shit worse for yourself.”

“Tch. Fucking crybaby,” you didn’t notice the moment tears began to run from your eyes again, but Beomgyu is quick to notice as he scoffs at your weak state— you’ve really angered them now.

Against your will, you feel your body slowly becoming weaker, slumping down in their grips as your vision begins to become spotted— you must’ve been out in the cold for too long. Your fight quickly dies down at their cruel words, your body too weak to resist as you let them take you back to the cabin; back to your personal cage.

-♡♡♡-

“She needs to be fucking punished.”

Beomgyu is first to suggest the idea, the anger inside him yet to quell down as he stares down at your sleeping form— you’re running a fever, your body shivering as you’re bundled safely under the covers of your bed. He doesn’t care how this comes across anymore; Yeonjun’s incredulous glance at him does nothing to deter his statement, watching you stir restlessly on the bed with cold eyes.

“I don’t think we need to go that far—“

“Really? Because it seems to me that the only reason she managed to pull that stupid stunt was because of you,” Beomgyu sneers, reaching out to play with the bell on your neck absentmindedly, “you’re lucky we managed to track her down with this.”

“You think I’m too soft on her?” Yeonjun says, running a hand through his hair as he listens to the bell— the tracker— jingle softly. Beomgyu nods immediately, not bothering to spare him another glance as you whimper softly in pain.

“What,” Yeonjun gulps, mind racing as he forces himself to get the words out, “what did you have in mind?”

-♡♡♡-

The door is locked.

As a matter of fact, the doorknob has been changed.

Your fever is long gone, and you stand in front of the door as you wiggle the doorknob curiously— but it won’t budge. There’s no way to unlock it, and you realize miserably that you’re locked inside.

Not even the window opens.

This must be because of what you did, you remember, falling back onto the bed with a huff. Staring at the ceiling, you try to listen for any activity outside when you spot it— the camera left in plain sight. It seems as though they want you to know they’re watching; the sight of it is enough of a warning for you as you wait for them to come in, to make you apologize so they can finally let you back out.

But nothing happens.

Minutes pass. Then an hour. Then another one— actually, you’re not sure how much time has passed, the room devoid of anything to entertain yourself with as you’re left to stare at the empty walls around you, the echoes of Soobin’s voice laughing at you appearing ever so often. How much time has passed? The sun is beginning to set, and you can feel your stomach growl for the umpteenth time as you conclude that they won’t be coming anytime soon— you have yet to eat anything, your body feeling nauseous as you curl up into a ball, the singular pillow and thin blanket you were left with your only comfort.

The thought of calling out for them crosses your mind— but you resist, not wanting to give into their games so easily as you stare at the camera dejectedly; on the other side, they watch you, laughing cruelly at the way you continue to seem strong.

Eventually, Yeonjun comes in to feed you; you don’t bother looking at him, refusing to eat until he walks up to you, grabbing your face roughly as he brings his face dangerously close.

“If you don’t eat, I’ll chain you to the bed and feed you myself.”

That seems to do the trick.

-♡♡♡-

You’re not sure how long you were left in there.

But by the time they let you out, you don’t seem to remember why you wanted to leave in the first place.

The cabin is so nice— it’s so nice to eat whenever you want, to watch shows and read as you curl up to Beomgyu’s side, his hand playing with your hair as you finally enjoy the touch of someone else again. It’s nice to have someone else lay next to you, after spending all that time alone in an empty bed and empty room. They seem nicer to you, constantly apologizing and telling you that “they had to do it” and that “they did it to keep you safe, to make you realize that leaving wouldn’t be worth it.”

And after a while their words became believable.

The thought of leaving seemed scary to you— though you didn’t realize why. But deep in your mind, you knew the truth.

It wasn’t because you were better off here, wrapped around their finger as you clung to them helplessly. No, it was because your mind knew the truth; you couldn’t escape, and any attempt to do so would only lead to punishment.

Unbeknownst to you, another month had passed— and instead of the scared, worried mess you had been when you had been brought here, you had been turned into a cute obedient pet for them, pleasing their every desire in the subconscious fear of being treated like nothing more than a prisoner again.

-♡♡♡-

Everything feels like it’s going back to normal again— they’re trusting you enough to leave you alone, the front door locked every day and cameras left installed to make sure you didn’t leave; “it’s your fault we had to come to this,” they would tell you, noticing the way you frowned as they were getting ready to leave, “you’ll just have to earn our trust back if you want them gone.”

Though they told you that, there was no chance that they would ever take the cameras down; if anything, they would only go back into hiding again, all whilst telling you that there was nothing left to surveille you anymore. How could they ever trust you again, when the inkling of doubt has already been planted?

The cameras were mostly for show; if anything, they only checked on you every once in a while, making sure that you were there before they continued with their inconspicuous lives; the threat of the police looking for you had been nothing but a lie— all footage with you and Soobin the night of or prior had been swiftly tampered with by Beomgyu, the said man spending hours to make sure that there was nothing there; even the records to your workplace were changed, stating that you had called off on your shift while Soobin spent the night working alone.

But it was a good tactic to keep you close to them— after all, your intentions were innocent. You were driven to that point, simply injuring the man on instinct as he threatened your precious friends. Though the two men had been worried about Soobin telling you the truth before they could prevent it, it seemed as though nothing had changed, your suspicions of them nonexistent as they allowed themselves to use your murder as an excuse to keep you chained to them.

And yet, they can’t predict everything— sometimes, even the smallest mistakes bloom into disasters.

-♡♡♡-

You think you’ve found a new place where you can hide— though, you don’t remember this room being in the house.

You had simply been searching for a place where you could be alone, doing your best to avoid all the cameras as you accidentally leaned against a bookshelf— and, like a scene of a movie, it slid to reveal a door behind it. Carefully, you moved it, eyes widening as you hesitantly twisted the doorknob— and to your luck, it opened.

With your heartbeat quickening, you quickly open the door, the curiosity getting the best of you as you step inside. Your hands are careful as they glide along the walls, blindly feeling around the dark as you feel around for a light switch— finally finding one, you flip the switch, squinting as the room is filled with bright, white light.

And you regret doing so immediately.

The room is empty, save for a desk with an elaborate computer set up against one of the walls— the multiple monitors are left unlocked as it allows you to see everything. Stepping slowly towards it, you feel your mouth dry as you notice more and more familiar items shoved into a box under the desk; you reach for that first.

Yet you’re distracted by the tabs that were left open on the computer, the items inside the box long forgotten as you squint, trying to decipher what the blinking red dot and strange floor plans in front of you may be— it doesn’t take you long before it finally clicks.

The collar you have on.

That wasn’t a bell hanging around your neck.

You think back to the day in the woods, how Yeonjun had been so quick to give up his chase on you; yet he had been just as quick to pinpoint the exact spot you ran to. The times when they would call out your name teasingly, finding you within seconds as a cruel smile ran across their face— you never knew how they found you so accurately and quickly. Next, you realize, is another surveillance camera— the screen is black, and you’re wondering what it might be until you read the label; your eyes drift down to the box in front of you in horror.

And just as suspected, your laptop is hidden in the box of items; opening it, you gasp as you find the camera on the computer immediately turning back on, showing you the mirror of your horrified face as you realize that they’ve been watching you— and for a while, too.

The botanical gardens, you think biting at your lip as you remember meeting Beomgyu there, the said boy allusive whenever you asked why he was there— it was no coincidence, that’s why.

Your phone is in there too, unable to find the energy to gasp once you notice that the device also has a tracker on it— digging around more, you find Soobin’s phone inside too. You drop it immediately, hissing as if the device had burned you. Why would they have Soobin’s phone?

“Those text messages you told me about wouldn’t help your case much either.”

You never told Yeonjun about the texts Soobin sent you.

Oh god. Oh god. Your hands are shaking violently as you empty out the box, your movements frantic as the items inside only get worse.

The same stationery your stalker used. The pendant. Copies of the pictures from your letters. Your fucking evidence box.

Everything was there and intact— your alibi, your only chance at proving your innocence, taken away from you and fucking hidden as you were left to be isolated and go insane instead.

All by the people who swore to protect you.

“It wasn’t, I’m not the one who—“

Soobin wasn’t the one behind this— they were.

They had lured you into their trap, leaving you in such a broken state that you had no other choice but to depend on them— Your whole life was in the palm of their hands.

Fuck, you realize, shoving everything back inside and making everything seem untouched as you stumble out of the room, these were the same people who swore up and down that they loved you. That they would never hurt you. These were the people you fell in love with.

You feel sick— you feel used, your emotions nothing but a carefully fabricated web of lies, all of the events in your life leading up to this; their big rescue, seeming like nothing but angels as you let yourself rely on them— broken, haunted you, forced to live with the fact that you killed a man.

You killed a man— and they let it happen.

How much of it had been fabricated by them? Was Jaemin a part of the plan too? How long had they been planning this? How far were they willing to take this?

You’re unsure of the answer to those questions, but there is one thing you know for sure— you need to leave.

And this time, you won’t stop fighting for a second.

“___, where are you?”

Speak of the devil.

Your heart is pounding erratically, blinded by rage as the need to leave, now, is overtaking your mind. You won’t take this anymore, you refuse to let them think they’ve gotten away with everything for even a second longer.

You reach for the first thing you see— a random vase— and quickly swing it at the man who enters the doorway, uncaring of who you hit, focused more on hitting either of them in general. The vase is fragile as it smashes into pieces, knocking the man back and hitting the doorway as well as it shatters in your hands. The noise is enough to alert the other culprit, the sound of their hurried steps giving you enough of a warning as you’re scrambling to grab another weapon.

“No—!” You’re cut off as you’re tackled to the ground, chin banging on the hardwood floor as you let out a yell in protest. You’re fighting the man above you, barely able to recognize him as Yeonjun as you thrash and kick under him. “Let me go! Let me go!”

“What the fuck has gotten into you?!” Yeonjun yells, using all his body weight to pin you down as you continue to fight him, throat raw as you spew insults and curses at them.

“Yeonjun, the bookshelf.”

They go silent as you continue to kick violently under them, the now strength of two men rendering your movements useless as they look at the bookshelf— at the way the door peeks behind it, usually not visible at all as they hide it meticulously.

There are drops of blood falling in front of you, and you realize they’re coming from Beomgyu as you look up, the wound on his forehead no joke as he grabs a fistful of your hair. He’s tugging your head up, the yelp of pain you let out doing nothing for him as he only grabs on tighter, moving your head violently as he talks down to you.

“You fucking idiot, you should know your place by now.” Beomgyu sneers, the blood dripping onto you as you beg him to let you go, “now we’ll isolate you again, but this time, don’t even think you’ll get any food.”

You’re sobbing hysterically at the painful way Beomgyu is handling you, the two men above you beyond furious as you continue to spew out insults to them, ever so persistent as you scream at them to let you go.

“I fucking hate you! Let go of me, you sick bastards! You’re sick! I hate you, I hate—!”

“Shhh,” Yeonjun is the one to speak up this time, hand covering your mouth like a habit at this point. His nails dig deep into your skin, the feeling bringing out a low groan from you as he forces you to look at him, the awkward angle hurting your neck.

“You’ll make things worse for yourself, darling. You don’t mean that, right?”

Letting go of your face, he waits for you to respond, watching tentatively as his eyes seem to warn you; but you ignore it, spitting at him as you proceed to sneer cruelly.

“I never loved you.”

The words are a message to both of them, but Beomgyu is first to act on it as he shoves Yeonjun off you, pulling you up with inhuman strength as his patience is snapped in half.

“Listen to me closely,” he says to you, shoving you against the wall harshly as he wraps a hand around your neck. Your eyes widen as he begins to squeeze, the man towering over you as he looks at you coldly— it’s almost as if all his love for you was long gone.

“Maybe, if you stop being such a fucking brat and apologize, I’ll let you go,” you’re clawing at his hands as he presses harder, your panicked eyes looking around for anything that can help you as you try to inflict more pain on the man above you— but it doesn’t work, the blood from his other wound dripping into his eye as he squints, a crazed smile breaking from his features as he watches you become helpless.

“You can die for all I care.”

The scariest part is that he means it. You know he does, if the way your vision spots and your gaping lips struggle for air is enough of a warning for you— eyes catching with Yeonjun’s, you gasp, whimpering out his name in a final hope that he’ll open his eyes and realize that you’ll die at any second.

“Yeonjun,” you gasp, reaching out to him as you make eye contact with him. You’re crying, the face of your best friend morphed into something darker as you he watches you silently. Your feet are kicking about underneath you, attempting to reach the man you once called your best friend as you cry out once more.

“Junnie!”

Beomgyu was never the one to deal with being put second— he was. Beomgyu didn’t have to deal with cruel and endless years of pining, but Yeonjun did. Every promise to stay by your side, to protect you, to put you first pops back up in his mind— and he shoots up from where he was seated, bolting towards Beomgyu as he reaches into his pocket.

Beomgyu didn’t deserve you. Neither did Jaemin. Nor Soobin.

What you deserved was someone who knew you better than you knew yourself— someone like Yeonjun.

Beomgyu’s fingers grow stiff on your neck.

One look into his eyes is all you need to know; his eyes are frozen, staring right back into yours as his mouth opens in disbelief. His lips move to utter your name, but all he can muster is a cough as Yeonjun steps back.

Blood splatters against your cheek.

And though Beomgyu falls back, although he groans as a pool of blood begins to form under him, you can only watch with horror as Yeonjun straddles the injured man, as he raises the pocketknife again, only for it descend back down, his body twitching and a small groan coming from him as the knife seeps into his skin.

Then Yeonjun does it again. And again. And again.

You’re not sure Yeonjun even remembers why he’s doing this. He’s hunched over Beomgyu’s body, head ducked down as he continues to stab every surface, every place he can find, Beomgyu’s cries quickly die down as blood continues to seep out and spread everywhere. It’s almost rhythmic as you slowly step around him, as you wait for him to look up and make you the next target— but he’s gone, lost in his own world as he continues to stab, and stab, and stab.

The squelching sound is too much for you as you make your way back to the front entrance, surprised to find Beomgyu’s coat and the door left ajar— you slip it on, feeling the heaviness of the material as you slip on a random pair of shoes.

It isn’t until you hear the wood creak that you take off running.

“___!” Yeonjun’s voice is harsh and raw as he yells for you, running after you as his footprints bleed from red to white, his shoes being cleaned as he continues to scream your name.

“___, listen to me! I don’t want to hurt you!”

His statement is a bit hard to believe as you glance back with uncertainty, following along the fresh tire tracks etched in the snow.

Yeonjun’s eyes are wide, and, much like you, he seems terrified; like he couldn’t believe what he had done. His hair is pushed back, the usual blonde now mixed with red as his face and clothes are splattered with the matching color. The path before you is too simple, too easy as Yeonjun quickly begins to catch up to you, his sudden speed giving you no other choice but to run back into the woods— you slip at the sharp turn, kicking up snow behind you as you hear him call out your name again.

“Please, listen to me!”

Lies. It was all lies. The man that chased after you was not the same man who took care of you when you were sick, who walked with you everywhere, who comforted you with ease when you missed your home— you refused to believe it.

The man who chased you, quickly gaining speed, was your stalker. He was the one who isolated you from your friends and family, who caused you to kill a man who, in the end, was innocent. Your life was ruined, and it was all his fault.

But it isn’t long before you’re growing tired, unable to continue to push yourself as the winter air stings your skin and burns your lungs. Even when you feel your legs going numb, you still attempt to run, stumbling and grabbing onto trees as the collar continues to jingle, almost as if it were mocking you as you feel yourself slow down involuntarily.

Even when the image of Beomgyu comes back into your mind to try to keep you going, the reminder of watching your lifelong friend continue to stab into him still seems to do nothing for you as your legs scream at you to stop. But you refuse to listen, the pitiful cries of Yeonjun slowly becoming louder and louder as you try to make as much distance as you can.

Unfortunately for you, your legs give out in protest.

Your knees sting as they dig into the jagged rocks and sticks hidden under the snow, unable to muster a reaction as you hear Yeonjun catch up to you. Slowly, you stand back up, the heavy jacket swinging around you as you wrap it tighter around you for protection.

“___, please,” he pants out, just as tired as you as he drops the knife in the snow. You shake your head, taking a step back as he reaches out to you, eyes filled with pain and regret as he takes in the fear that paints your face.

“How could you?!” You cry out, voice hoarse and thick with emotion as you let your arms fall to your sides. He shakes his head, attempting to grab your hand in comfort before you swat him away.

“Why?” You sob, your voice breaking off as you attempt to keep your composure. He says nothing, taking another step towards you instead, only to have you back away immediately.

“Why, god damn it?!” Your hands are wandering along the jacket in a sad attempt to soothe yourself, smoothing over the material and pockets as you demand an explanation. “You— you let me kill him! Why?!”

“Because I’m in love with you!” His excuse is ridiculous, even to him, but he has nothing else to lose as Yeonjun finally decides to tell the truth.

“I’m— fuck, I’m so in love with you,” he cries, voice breaking as he reaches down for the knife— you stumble back, breaths quickening as you watch him play with the blade. “I have been for years. I’ve watched you fall for others and push me aside. I tried to move on, I really did. But nothing ever worked, and Beomgyu was the one to suggest all this.”

He waves the knife around and you step back again, the hurt flashing across his face the least of your worries as he continues.

“I didn’t want it to happen this way, I really didn’t!” He looks sad as he tells you this, as if he genuinely believed he was innocent, “all this— this, this fucked up shit, it was not my idea!”

Bullshit. That’s a lie and you both know it, judging by the way his lips tremble and his eyes are flooded with tears as he hopes that you’re able to forgive him.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” you say quietly, hands digging into the jacket pockets as you walk backward, much too afraid to take your eyes away from him for even a second.

“No,” Yeonjun is exasperated as he begins to chase after you, hands reaching out as he shakes his head in denial, “you don’t mean this. Don’t.”

“Leave me alone! I don’t want to see you ever again!” Your steps are frantic as you keep your eyes on Yeonjun, unable to notice the tree root that your foot catches on, tripping on it and landing on your back harshly, the snow around you puffing up as you scramble to stand— but you hiss, your ankle twisted as it throbs in protest.

“Please!” Yeonjun gasps out, falling to his knees as he reaches out for your injury. You’re quick to tuck your leg back underneath you, shaking your head as you scoot back instead. He’s pathetic, crawling to you as he pleads for you to forgive him, clearly out of his mind as he babbles on and on about his love for you.

“I saved you!” He says, hands landing on your calves as he pulls you back to him. You shake your head, pushing against his chest as you scream at him to let you go. “Beomgyu— it was all him! He was horrible to you—!”

“YOU’RE JUST AS BAD!”

He seems to freeze at that, his eyes glazing over as the foreign concept dawns on him— you won’t forgive him. But he refuses to believe it— he saved your life.

“I saved your life…” he echoes, hand reaching back as you realize exactly what he’s reaching for.

“You’re so ungrateful…”

The bloodied knife greets you, looking for its new target as Yeonjun stares down at you, tears falling onto your face as he mumbles incoherently. His hand shakes, the hesitation in his motions your last opening as you let out a scream of terror.

And you pull the trigger.

The gunshot echoes throughout the woods, your brain mortified at the feeling of Yeonjun falling on top of you, wet, messy, dead.

There was a reason why Beomgyu’s jacket was so heavy.

Yeonjun’s body is cold and stiff by the time you gather the courage to push him off, his disfigured face bringing about a wave of nausea that you can’t control, your stomach lurching as you vomit into the snow. Tears and blood fall into the pure white substance as you pat his jacket, hands shaking as you finally find what you want— the keys to his car.

Limping, you make your way back, following the footprints in the snow, watching as they become redder and redder the closer you get to the cabin. The car comes into sight, and you feel a slight tinge of relief as the keys in your hand unlock the vehicle before you.

It hurts to drive, but as you slowly follow the tire tracks that were set beneath you, you know that there’s at least one police station in that quiet and quaint town. The rough path soon becomes a road, the empty road soon showing a welcome sign and streetlights.

Glancing into the mirror, you watch the cabin on the mountain become smaller and smaller;

It looks like you’re finally out of the woods.

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