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dropsofletters · 3 years

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hate everything

— summary: the heir of a fashion brand and a modelling company has nothing to do with a duchess, but xu minghao spends more time in her castle than anyone else she ever knows. perhaps, his presence is so perpetrating that even after falling in love and breaking her heart a thousand times, he stands. she may hate everything, but she doesn’t hate him.

— title: hate everything — pairing: xu minghao x reader (ft. joshua hong) — genre: heir!au ; duchess!au ; royal!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; slowburn!au — type: angst ; fluff ; romance ; drama ; suggestive ; humor (with a happy ending though!) — word count: 25,984

December 17th. Five years ago.

To wear a dress is a tradition. No matter how harshly the fabric tightens around her ribcage, or how badly her legs ache whenever she has to bend over and place another faux kiss on a person’s cheek. To have something as expensive as the cloths that drape over her should be a blessing, the quartz pink lace of her sleeves falling off her shoulders, a corset placed on her waist to become an image to look at—a product, maybe. The skirt leaves more to the imagination, flared and eccentric, and she’s starting to wonder if someone would realize if she only slipped away from these hells that should’ve been crafted in Hell—

Royals are used to this. The children of those enigmatic individuals train the entirety of their lives to be three things: charismatic, beautiful…and fake, overall. One would know when she’s an outsider; part of it but also a branch of the many more important people in her family-line. Therefore, her Father being a Duke and his daughters becoming, inherently, Duchesses of their own shouldn’t be of higher importance than anyone else in this goddamned party, but they are. Because, over everything, they are there for something—to be coquettish and courted, find a man of wealth of the highest society to decide either of them is worth their time.

She pushes her chest forward when her Mother steals a glance at her, quirking an eyebrow in the process, silently telling her to act like a lady. Maybe, Princesses are used to this, but she’s not quite ready to call herself anything remotely close to that. Instead, she brings her cup of lemon water up her mouth, opening her lips a bit wider so her immaculate lipstick doesn’t get ruined and scrunches up her nose as delicately as possible in the process. The children’s table is filled with snacks and sodas, and she can’t help but feel envious of such exquisiteness.

The high ceilings showcase twirls of gold and blue, curling onto themselves to give the view of a wider space. Instead, the white and champagne walls are covered in pictures of the real Royals. Her family, though not as close, definitely more wealthy and more important than she is, mingling and chatting as if it’s their job. It probably is. Some people stay at the center, dancing with glee, finding more people to talk to, all of status. Not that she does anything other than stay seated on her designated table and let her sister do her job.

Socialize, in this case.

Socialize and find some connection that will leave her family in a better position.

She breathes in softly, her fingertips playing with the itchy fabric of her skirt, feeling the strands of her hair start to hurt against her scalp after holding up such hairstyle for so long. This is not who she is, but it’s who she is designated to be. Normality has not been set for her, neither has fame made its way towards her. She is nothing more than just another dot in a world where she doesn’t quite fit in—Royal, but never a known Royal. It’s up to her to make herself become a paragraph, more than the simplistic end of a sentence.

When she feels the presence of someone behind her, she doesn’t think much. Around five hundred people, if not more, have attended the main castle’s grand event and, of course, there is not of space left. But when a soft breath mingles on the back of her neck and a manly scent, almost musky, makes its way through her nostrils, she realizes whoever this man is has decided to get close to her specifically.

“Why aren’t you enjoying yourself?” There it is, that voice, dulcet, soft, breathy into the air as he tries to whisper only to her over the music. It reminds her of words written on the back of her notebooks in high school and crushes that were destroyed by the imminent existence of graduation. The schools she attended to, since the beginning of her life, had been considered the best of the best but the only good thing she remembers is—

“Joshua.” The name comes to her easily, and she doesn’t even have to turn around to see one of the many Princes of a land not too far away from hers. Well, not hers—her family’s, or something of the like. Joshua is, technically, perhaps the fifth in line if he were to ever reach the throne, and he spends most of his time out of his small land than doing Royal work. “What are you doing here?”

Joshua holds a glass of what seems to be wine on his right hand, his brown hair pushed away from his youthful face. Only twenty and looking like he owns the world, and perhaps, he does. A fitted suit falls on his slim body, his waist accentuated, the back of the jacket trailing a bit downwards, its rich black color contrasting well with his olive skin. His eyes fold romantically at the same time his lips curve onto a smile. “Hi.” He says first. “Well, uh, I was invited? Isn’t that the only reason why I would be here?”

“I haven’t seen any of your brothers here.” And most people would say that they don’t know the names of all the Hong brothers, but she does. It comes with the number of times she has spent keeping her sighs locked in front of Joshua, a daydream that has been unattainable for the entirety of her life. “That’s—I figured you wouldn’t be here.”

“Now I’m here.” Joshua breathes out, taking a sip of his wine. “Why the long face?”

“Ah—” Her hands indeed come grasp at her cheeks, eyes widened as she tries to come up with an excuse. “I don’t really like parties, that’s all.”

The statement has his eyebrows raising, youthful above all. “That’s a big statement.”

“There’s a lot of people here,” She says, hands coming to rest on top of her dress, curling around one another only not to reach out for him. Not that she has ever heard of Joshua being a lover of many girls, but…he has never quite shown signs of wanting to be with her. “And no one really wants to talk to me, so. Also, the drinks…I don’t like them. I’m hungry, too—”

Joshua’s smile transcends into full-on laughter, throwing his head back just as he extends his hand forward. “You just haven’t gone to a good party.” He says, waving his fingers into the air. “Come on, stand up.”

The feeling of his hand sliding into hers feels like the satin covers of her bed, slipping away from her in a rainy morning when the maids ask her to join them for breakfast. When her family is not around and she gets to enjoy the solitude of being both warm and cold. Joshua does as much as interlocking his fingers with hers, and she both wants to smile and die at the same time. “What—? Why?”

“I’m taking you to a good party.” Joshua decides out of the sudden, walking with grace as they move towards the entrance, but she has to stop him at that moment, heels digging onto the tile flooring in a way that almost has her falling.

“J—Joshua…” She chuckles a bit when he looks at her over his shoulder, finishing the last few drops of his wine. “My family is here with me. I just can’t leave like that—”

“Tell your sister to cover up for you.” Joshua says, shrugging his shoulders. “Come on, we both know we’re Royals…but we’re not that important in this event. If we leave now, we still have the rest of the night to enjoy.” His words are calm, like everything he does, never does he look like he fears the world may eat him alive for his actions. “Besides, I’ll make sure to take you home safe and sound.”

One of those opportunities that falls from the sky, graced by heaven, suddenly seem to be covered in a veil of doubt. Her family would love for her to go out with someone of importance like Joshua—but parties aren’t her kind of thing. She has gone to many of them as she has grown up, drained herself of all possible social skills because of how tough it is to try to be liked by everyone. “…Are you sure this is a good party?”

“Listen,” Joshua breathes out, a pout on his lips. “My oldest brother is going to get married in January and my friends want to throw a birthday party for me before I have to go back to my land. That’s all that’s going on.”

“But, your birthday is on December 30th—”

“And I’m leaving on the 21st.” He tugs at her hand then, and maybe, this is enough to tug at her heart strings, as well. “Come on, we haven’t hung out since I graduated and that was almost two years ago.” Knowing how to speak, because someone like Joshua Hong has taken charisma classes since the day he was born, perhaps, he adds: “I’ve missed you. It’s all up to you, of course, no pressure.”

Missing him is something she has done, as well. With every arranged dinner with someone that she doesn’t like, and every moment she spends wrapped in between her blankets watching romantic comedies, in the rare occasion that she exchanges her historical films and enthusiasm for something more of the like of youth. Joshua Hong is someone she met when she entered her teenage years and has become, instead, her longtime dream.

“…Only if you take me home before three in the morning.”

Joshua nods. “I can do that.”

“And if you promise we’ll grab something to eat on the way there.”

“My friends are waiting for me outside. I can ask them go get some drive-through on the way to the mansion we’re hanging out at.” He always has a solution to life, so simplistic and sure of himself, and maybe that’s what drags her closer to her sister, asking her to cover up for her as her heels click against the floor. Now, the least of her worries is how pompous this dress is, but how nice of an opportunity has settled on her lap instead.

Throughout her entire life, she has had a conceptualization of love that feels like a fairytale. If she didn’t get to live the entire fairytale of being a Princess, then she may as well expect to get a Prince in return. The way the wind blew on his hair as he talked to his friends, taking small bites of the fries they shared, his eyes glistening when he looked at her—it all felt like love. The young kind. The one that makes her feel like she only has one more day to live and he’s willing to give it all to her. His jacket rubs her skin when he gets her closer to her, music blasting loudly, and for once, she’s not the daughter of the Duke and Duchess, or another Duchess in that raunchy Royal stance—

She’s just another person in this world.

“…Hey, you okay?” The question breathes in between the two, the limousine able to take up the group of six people. Joshua, however, only seems to have eyes for her. Maybe, it’s that little string of hope that tells her that the butter-like words and the fluttery feeling inside her chest mean something. They have to. “I’m here for you if you need anything, okay? If you want to leave, we will.”

So far, nothing seems to bother her. Instead, she lets him wrap his fingers around hers, sending a hum his way. “I like this. They’re nice.”

“They are.” He conquers, looking out the window once again. Petrichor and a Prince, the sprinkles of the unwelcomed rain now becoming a mere memory. His lips wrap around a tranquil smile when he says: “You’re an adult now. People become nicer as you grow older.”

But that’s not what she has heard the maids at her small castle say. People only grow worst with time, like weeds—they hope someone falls so they can hold onto them. Twenty and ready to bite into the world with expertise, she accepts his words as truth. “I see.” She conquers. “Maybe, I’ll get to know people like that now that I’m going to university.”

“Didn’t you want to go for history in university?” Joshua asks, and she remembers the talks that they used to have when he was a senior in high school.

“That’s the dream.”

“Say: That’s the plan.” Joshua corrects. “If you make it a certainty, you won’t have time to hesitate.”

That may be the key to happiness—not hesitating, not doubting, not blinking twice when a man like that offers her his jacket and holds her hand like he never wants to let go of her. Joshua has become a plan, not a dream. “That’s the plan.” She whispers, earning a chuckle from Joshua.

“Good.”

###

The wicked, Mother used to call them. Those who live their lives for anything other than socializing in the most antique of ways are considered to be outcasts. From Royals, one can only expect utmost beauty—from normal people? The raunchiest. Those go to cheap parties. Those drink horrid alcohol. Those embark in love stories that only last mere months, and drop their secrets out at the appearance of whatever person seems trustworthy enough. Mother always considered people less than her, but she never understood her. Why is it that out of this group of six people she should feel better? Because she doesn’t enjoy a party? Because this mansion is bigger than her own and hence, she has to find something she is better in than the owner of said house?

The son of the owner of the house, Zhang Wei, barely pays attention to the pristine flooring or the worker that trails right behind him to serve him another glass of wine. He’s twenty-one, the oldest of the group, and somehow, so lost in his own world that he doesn’t notice anyone but his own phone. According to Joshua, he’s not as much of a lightweight as others, and the frown perched on his enigmatic and perfectly crafted face comes from the longing of his lover, living seas and seas away from him. Zhang Wei is a sight to look at when he’s seated on the red, leather couch of his living room, the clean wood under his feet looking dirty with how shiny his designer shoes were.

Heejin is the drunkest, as of now, twenty years old just like Joshua, long hair cascading down her back as she insists on holding onto Kyle, one of her closest friends, whose bottle-like glasses make his brown eyes look much smaller. Finally, Seungcheol has lost himself to the karaoke machine nearby, taking the bottle from the worker’s tray to bring it up his lips, taking a nice swig of the alcohol before smiling brightly. Life is good for all of them, so why should she judge?

“Let me help you out,” She doesn’t notice the reason behind Joshua’s words, or why he places his glass of rosy champagne in between her fingertips as he drops to kneel in front of her. His fingers softly glide across the bottom portion of the fabric of her skirt to showcase her feet. “You’ve been fidgeting since we got here. I’m sure Zhang Wei’s sister has a pair of flats that is more comfortable for you.”

“Ah, they were supposed to make my legs look better.” Though, that doesn’t seem to phase him, lifting a thoughtful eyebrow that reminds her of the times she would catch a glimpse of him studying in the school’s library. She’s free from such place as of now, thankfully, for the only memories she wants to keep include Joshua and some history classes in between.

“No one can look at your legs with this cupcake you have for a dress.” He jokes and her laughter rips through her even when Seungcheol’s singing voice covers all sources of it. “Besides,” Joshua starts again, throwing her white shoes somewhere on the wood, clicking obnoxiously. “Your legs are already good as they are.”

It’s in the magic of acceptance that a true gentleman earns a heart. Somehow, Joshua reminds her of the men in the shows her maids watch. Damn, she spends a lot more time with them than she does with her Mother. “You say?”

“I confirm.” Joshua finishes, settling himself down on the seat beside her before taking his cup once again. “Besides, it’s not like I could not notice. You always dress the prettiest for all the events we go to.”

She has to giggle at that. “Thank my stylist.”

“Why do you doll yourself up so much?” Joshua asks, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not like it matters. What other people think of us, that is.”

Oh, and that’s only one of the many things she loves about Joshua. How in syntony and acceptance he seems to be with the fact he’ll never reach the throne. “Mother says we should always look our best. You never know who you’re going to find.”

“Are you looking for someone?” Joshua asks, eyes inspecting her vision, lips wrapping around the glass in a way she wishes would rest upon hers. A first kiss from him would be a symphony to dance to, a bite onto the cleanest of apples. “Like—”

“No.” She replies quickly, interrupting him in the process. “Well, no—ah, not really. Depends…”

Joshua chuckles. “Depends on what?”

“On, well…” On you, Joshua Hong. “Depends on the situation. I’m not looking, rather…waiting.”

“Waiting,” He repeats, a gush of air blowing towards her face straight from his mouth—alcohol in his scent. “Yeah, that sounds like you. You’re the person anyone would love to wait for.”

“Am I?” She asks, trying not to sound impressed. Flirty, she aims to be, but she sounds far more robotic than intended. “Oh, wow.”

A laugh that doesn’t make it out his mouth accompanies his next statement. “Go look for a pair of shoes with Heejin. At this point, we all have to dance to Seungcheol’s singing.”

“Okay, but wait for me, okay?”

The connotations of such sentence only fall on her later, opening her mouth to say something before Joshua smiles widely. “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing for a while?”

Heejin doesn’t even have to be called by the time she wraps her slim arms around her shoulders, placing her cheek against hers as she speaks loudly. “Ah, I love all of you guys so much.” Her voice trails with the amount of alcohol inside her body, her cheeks tainted in a deep red, her nice profile cold to the touch. “Who are you again?”

She has to give a tight-lipped smile then. “Care to help me find a pair of shoes? My heels were killing me and I need something comfortable.”

“Ah, of course!” Though, even through her drunken hues, her sweet personality comes through and shines a light. “…I know exactly where to find shoes here.”

“Good.” Heejin clings to her hand with glee, moving her to the spacious and curved set of stairs as she throws a glance over her shoulder to look at Joshua. The man, however, simply lifts his hand to greet her, leaving her with a small—

“Have fun.”

She’s meant to be having fun, she reminds herself as she roams the mansion for the third time because Heejin can’t quite concentrate when she is this drunk. She’s meant to be having fun, she says in a low breath, when Heejin opens as many doors as possible until they reach the one that belonged to Zhang Wei’s sister, apparently not there at all. In the faint distance, she can hear Joshua’s voice singing into the microphone, epitome of youth, somehow calling out for her attention because she should be there. Wasting ten minutes of her time with him just for a pair of shoes just doesn’t sound like the best idea.

“Shua never mentioned you. It’s the first time I hear about you.” Heejin says, and she doesn’t know if her words are meant to prick or not, but they do. For someone as important to her as Joshua not to care enough to talk about her hurts. Maybe, this group of people are just not close enough to him, and that’s why he doesn’t talk about her. “Are you a Princess?”

Heejin trudges inside the sky-blue room, bumping onto a few things, dropping her jacket on the bed and she immediately picks it up. They can’t leave anything behind that tells anyone they were there taking shoes, after all. “Ah, no,” She says, following after her towards two huge, white doors. “I’m the daughter of a Duchess. That technically makes me a Duchess, too—”

“So, a Lady.”

“Yes, a Lady.” The doors open gleefully, gates to heaven that welcome a spacious wardrobe. Shelves in pristine white, bathed in bright lights, hold different types of jewelry and shoes, all organized by color and by brand. “What about you?”

Heejin may be surprised about her curiousness, twirling her brown hair in between her fingers after absentmindedly trying to put it up on a ponytail. She fails, too drunk to even do that. “I don’t have a Royal title.” She starts. “None of us besides Joshua do.” But she doesn’t forget to put some penny for her thoughts. “My dad owns four hospitals in different continents. My mom is…I don’t know, I think she’s a fashion designer. I haven’t talked to her in so long.” Though, the champagne in her system must not let her linger on the thought.

“…I see.” She mumbles, a smile on her face. “Ah, and what happened to Zhang Wei’s sister?”

“She’s at university.” Heejin replies, moving away from the walk-in closet and towards the balcony. Opening the doors wider, she now starts to unzip her dress, her eyes widening in the process. What the fuck is this girl on? “Uni…it’s overrated. It wants to make us all feel dumb. I failed my exam—”

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t get naked.” After rushing towards her, she trails the zipper up once again, keeping the red, taut fabric against her body. The harsh breeze of the balcony moves her just as much as Heejin does when she pushes her off her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I want to go for a swim.” Dare she point towards the pool some good meters down that balcony, on the fucking second floor, and definitely with a good space in between its railings and the pool itself. The lights must be catching the attention of her drunken mind. “It’s going to be fun. Come on, I’ve bungee jumped, this is going to be just as easy—”

“Heejin, no.” She says, tugging at the woman’s arms when she leans her weight against the railing. “It’s dangerous. You could fall and—”

“I’m not going to fall. I said I’m a professional—”

“Heejin!” She never raises her voice. The last time she did so, she ended up being told to act like a Lady, anger flaring through the room. This time around, however, fear replaces the highness of her tone. “You could split your head in half. Don’t. I’ll take you to the pool if you want to.”

“I’ve done this before. Don’t be a prude—!” The whine on Heejin’s voice gets more persistent, and even when she pushes Heejin’s back towards her chest to bring her away from the balcony, the young woman’s toned legs flimsily move to push herself away.

“Joshua!” She calls out in a scream, in hopes of having someone support her with whatever the hell Heejin, the now discovered daredevil, wants to do. “I’m calling Joshua and we’ll take you to a swim, just—” More moving around from Heejin, perhaps trying to get away from her grasp. “Joshua! Come help me out here!”

Why is it that he’s gone when she needs him the most? Fear clinging at her throat, heart beating, eyes staring at Heejin as she slips away from her hands and works on taking her dress off again.

“Stop it, Heejin! Get over here!”

The doors of the room open with a harsh bang, thoughts of Joshua listening to her clouding her mind in a second, still battling to keep Heejin’s dress up the woman’s body. Instead, she watches a young man barge into the room. The short strands of his black hair done a mess from the sleep that still lingers on his features, a straight nose and plush lips that accompany somewhat aloof eyes, that only manage to widen a fraction when he watches Heejin on the balcony, using only one hand to tug at her wrist and bring her inside the room.

“I was trying to sleep and you were being loud, Heejin.” The soft timbre of his voice is surprising, the black t-shirt on his body reaching his hips, the rest of his legs covered in pajama pants in plaid figures. He must know Heejin far better than she does. “What did you think you were doing?”

Heejin stares at the man in front of her when he sits her down on the soft, almost cloud-like mattress, bringing one hand up before waving it across his face. “Minghao, I didn’t know you were going to be here today.”

“It’s been a year since I started living here, Heejin. Use another excuse.” The man says, putting down Heejin’s hand with a soft touch before turning to look at her. “She was causing you trouble?”

“She was trying to throw herself into the pool from the balcony.” She says, well aware that it sounds like an atrocity, but she can’t bring herself to say anything but the truth. Her fingers twirl against one another under the weight of his watchful gaze. “I’m sorry we woke you up.”

“…You better.” He breathes out, though the initial annoyance of his entrance seems to be dissipating. “I’ll make her something to eat and then, I’ll ask Zhang Wei to take her home. If he’s not too drunk.” Minghao seems to be deep in thought at that, shaking his head in the process. “Who am I kidding? I’ll call a cab.”

“Okay.” She adds, a small smile on her features as she moves towards the door, shoeless, with her hair done a mess, and with the sleeves of her dress somewhat disorganized after so much tugging and pulling with Heejin. “I’ll go look for Joshua and ask me to take me home.” Though, she stops herself, turning around to look at Minghao. “Wait, why should I leave Heejin with you? I don’t even know you…”

“…I’m Zhang Wei’s cousin.” Minghao indicates, asking Heejin to stand up soon after before walking behind her, as if dragging her away from the room. Though, what surprises her the most when the door closes behind all three of them is that he manages to say her sister’s name, quirking an eyebrow in the process. “Yeah, you both look alike.”

With Minghao walking in front of her with more certainty, definitely knowing this mansion like the palm of his hand, she stutters out an answer. “And how do you know my sister?”

“I’m good friends with her.”

“I have never seen you with her.” She retorts, not quite trusting how knowledgeable this man seems to be about everything. Even Heejin grew quiet when around him, following after his every step.

“Your sister says you’re not around much.” She can’t deny that, either. For her, she’s always being prepared to find someone that betters her title—and that takes a lot of socializing and going around with her parents. “Shouldn’t I be the one who is suspicious about you? You were inside my cousin’s room and I don’t even know you.”

“I came here with Joshua and Heejin was looking for something there.” She excuses herself, leaving out the obvious—she was there to look for shoes, and Minghao may have not noticed just because of the length of her dress.

Just when they reach the bottom of the stairs, she expects to see Joshua already there—at the edge of his seat, ready to know what happened. Instead, he’s laying back on one of the many couches in the living room, his glass on one hand and his phone on the other, avidly talking to someone in a low tone, even over the music.

“Tell you something,” Minghao instructs, taking this time to show some expression on his youthful, innocent face. He may be eighteen or nineteen at most. “I’ll call a cab for you two, as well, and you’re going to go home. It’s late and you’re too drunk. This can only go wrong.”

She thinks about it for a moment, and she crosses her arms over her chest when she calls out for— “Joshua!”

The man pushes his phone away from his ear, smiling softly when he asks: “Yes?”

“I want to leave.”

“We were going to an after-party, though—”

“I want to leave.” Something of the like of pride flashes through Minghao’s face when he takes his phone in between his hands.

Joshua breathes out softly, blinking at her as if he’s trying to study her, before saying something on the phone and hanging up. She’ll never know who he was calling. “Okay, we’re leaving. There’s no need to get harsh.”

With one arm around her shoulder and a kiss to her temple, she figures out she forgives him for not appearing at the balcony.

Because Joshua is that. A silent conversation in a cab as he texts someone for an after-party, mainly because he wants to enjoy his youth as it barely begins. He’s the promises he breathes out, the words that he says, the comfort that comes with being with him—because he’s known, and he’ll always be. One day, he could even be her home. It leads to nothing, as of now, but something about this night tells her that the quietness in between the two will sort into something else. Tranquility, maybe. The tranquility that she has never gotten in that castle she lives in.

His fingertips trail down her arm when he presses one last kiss to her cheek, opening the door to the cab and getting back inside after she stands in front of the castle. The fountain by the entrance welcomes her as quickly as the guards do, and she can’t look at Joshua without needing to go back with him. Instead, she stares at the time in her phone.

Three in the morning.

Three in the morning and she watches Joshua leave to another party, and the Duke’s car parking out and way from the castle. Once again, she’s left in solitude—it’s in her blood to wait for people to arrive to her, for her nights to be filled with the questioning of what could have been. What’s not enough, and what does not meet the expectation of those around her, for them to always want something else.

It’s three in the morning when she gives a smile to the guards, trying to forget the feeling of the concrete under her bare feet, and once again, she’s greeted with the usual. A compliment on her liveliness, even at such a time.

It’s three in the morning and she’s lying.

###

August 3rd. Three years ago.

Dinners always go like this.

First, a sip of the richest drink. Fruit directly from mother nature, crafted by the hands of those who work for her.

Lips moistened, the fork and knife cut through whatever is served. In the rare occasion her Mother is not looking at her, she mixes the vegetables with the main course, adds a bit more of sauce. She lets herself enjoy it at those times.

Two chews, slow, steady, and she nods at whatever the Duchess says. The table is long enough for her to feel like she’s miles away—in this family, it always feels like that.

When she swallows, she always tries to look for a middle ground, something that doesn’t make the food go up her esophagus out of nervousness. When her eyes connect with her sister’s, she finds it. The only person in that entire table that knows her well.

Then, it’s inherent. She looks for the Duke, her Father, blocks every thought of her mind that wonders if his long trips and getaways include another family, an affair, or if he’s simply doing his job. Trust earns itself, and it lacks, thereof.

The process repeats itself until her plate is finished and she can excuse herself away from the table.

Her name is called, catching her attention away from the plate underneath her. Tomatoes sliced to perfection are left on the white ceramic when she connects gazes with her mother’s—eyes the same shade as hers, but much colder. “…How’s everything going with Joshua, my love?”

Maybe, her family was never of a higher stance in the Royal timeline because they deserved it. The only way she becomes a loving matter in this castle is when Joshua’s name lingers in between, and she can’t hate him for it. Kisses shared underneath the moonlight sealed their relationship long ago—after that December they saw each other last, and he continuously texted and called her, opting to go visit her on January to make it official. A relationship that most called expected, while she thought of it as a blessing.

Placing the fork and knife down, she interlocks her fingers together, catching a glimpse of her favorite maid and, perhaps, her best friend, Hana, standing a few meters away from her mother. Instead, she decides to answer as simplistically as possible. “We’re doing excellently, Mother.” Though, that much is not a lie. Joshua’s been working on investments to depart, or grow away, from the Royal family, and that has made him spend more time in her land rather than his. “Two years and still going strong, that has to say something.”

“It does not say much.” The Duchess says, extending her gloved hands towards her Father before resting it on top of his extended hand. “It feels like he’s not so sure about you, honey. Your Father asked for my hand after nine months of dating. If a man is sure about what he wants, he’ll make it happen in a second.”

The shots are fired, then. Though young and full with the will to keep up with her duties as a Lady, her Mother aches for more. It’s in the line of women like them—marry someone of importance, and after her relationship with Joshua became serious, all the hopes of marriage fell on her shoulders. Her sister, on the other hand, had managed to go for university…just like the two of them had dreamt of doing. History slipped away from her hands, and she doesn’t think she’s making history of her own.

“Mother,” Her sister says, an eye-roll to her statement. “Just let her be. Not everything has to end with marriage.”

“I—I think…” She stutters, wetting her lips with a bit of the orange juice in front of her. It does nothing to ease her nerves when under the gaze of the Duchess. “I think Joshua and I are fine as we are. We still have to live this part of our lives and marriage is such a serious thing—”

“Love.” Her Mother interrupts, cutting through the air with certainty. “You need to be someone of importance. I’m not going to be here for you forever…and you must find the strength to keep going. Richness. A kingdom. Something. We have given you education, now you must harvest your future.”

Though, she has never thought of her future as one that revolves around a man. It shouldn’t be like that. For, the times that she doesn’t spend with Joshua, she does a lot more than what anyone can see—study in the library, bask herself in books, do some appearances in the local schools to teach about history. The real kind. The kind that teaches people to be kinder, to want to change the world. Their land may be small, but while she is there, they won’t lack the proper information to continue growing as a society.

“Right?” The Duchess asks the Duke, and the man can only hum.

“That Joshua guy…he’s nice, but if he hasn’t asked for your hand in marriage, at least as a promise, I can’t see this going anywhere.” But, what does the Duke know about relationships? He’s barely even here to start with—

“That’s why you should try to be better. Make him notice how good of a wife you could be.” That’s what she has always been—a trophy. Words that are knives and cut right through her. No matter how much she takes in one morning with the stylists to doll herself up, or how precisely she tries to speak, there is always something else to try out. A new posture. A new class. Anything to be able to take a man’s attention. Sometimes, the tip of her tongue itches to just say: fuck that.

“I think he likes me as I am, Mother.” She replies, her hand tightening against the fork and the knife to continue eating. She’s hungry, so she may as well continue biting on her food even if she’s talking with her family. “I don’t have to be better.”

“Then, he’ll leave you.” Her mother says, as if it doesn’t hurt. As if the thought of Joshua just taking his things and going back to his land, for real, doesn’t pierce through her and leaves her breathing ragged, obstinate. “Darling, he’s always going back and forth. Business stuff, sure, but still…in one of those many trips, he’ll find someone he’ll deem better.”

“If he loves me, I’m his only option—”

“Men don’t work like that.” The Duchess spites, though she is quite thankful that she has vegetables inside her mouth, moving softly with her chewing, because she would have inherently said what everyone knows in this castle, even the workers. It’s not men that don’t work like that, it’s your man. “He’ll get bored pretty soon.”

“If that day comes, I’ll move on.”

“And do what?” The Duchess asks. “Recite the entirety of our land’s history to children for the rest of your life? Come on, darling, I taught you better.” But most of the things she learned came from the workers, the maids, the butlers, the people that lingered around her while her family was socializing— “You have to seek for a title. A Prince’s Wife, and he has been making far more money recently—of his own, too. Joshua is the perfect image of the man you have to marry.”

“Can’t we just stop talking about this?” Her sister questions, throwing her napkin on the table. “Really, it’s fucking annoying. She can do what she wants—”

“Language.” The Duke mumbles in between bites of his meal, never once lifting his gaze. Not like he cares. She continues staring at her mother, the woman shrugging her shoulders.

“It’s her choice.” But those words don’t sound like they would come from the Duchess. “But that man is the only man that she has loved, and the only one that has loved her. If she doesn’t get married now, she’s going to lose it all. Richness. Love. Opportunities. I’ll just sit back and watch it happen, then.”

Hana clears her throat, moving towards her side before dragging the plate away from under her gaze. Not that she does much, leaving the fork and knife in the air as she tries to think of who she is. What she has become other than a people pleaser, leaving all thoughts of her dreams behind to live for others— “Lady, you have finished your plate. May I give you another serving?”

She hadn’t even realized, but instead, she stands up. Moving the fabric of her black dress down her thighs, she juts her chin forward. “I’ll eat in the kitchen.” She replies, lowering her gaze when her Mother quirks an eyebrow at her. “May you please ask the chef to make me some mashed potatoes? I’m craving that.”

“Of course, Lady.”

Though, she can’t give more than a few steps behind Hana before she hears her Mother calling out her name. “You’re not leaving like that, are you?”

Sometimes, she likes to believe there is regret in the Duchess’ voice, that something in her strict way of being means that she cares. Probably, she does—cares about the status of her daughters, more often than not squinting her gaze at her slightly younger sister for being…in love with too many people. Instead, she tries to follow after her words, lowering her face the slightest to press a kiss to the crown of her head. Her scent doesn’t feel familiar. “May you have a nice meal, Mother.”

Her heart only feels heavier after those words.

###

September 20th. Three years ago.

His breaths mingle in the oxygen around her, though not clear under the golden lights of the event hall’s bathroom. His chest presses against her back, each muscle curving and contorting to match hers—and it has always been beautiful, how Joshua seems to be made just for her. With his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed to utter perfection, his teeth do wonders on his bottom lip, capturing it until it turns red, only letting go of it when he opens his eyes and pulls away from her, leaving her vacant. His lips flutter against her neck, that spot that he knows makes her ticklish, but somehow always slips his mind.

Joshua, over everything, prides himself on how good he is at hiding. Living a normal life while being a Prince comes easily for him—never once missing the opportunity to be young and free. With the mirror right in front of them, she tries to remind herself that she is a Lady. Golden, creamy dress falling off her shoulders, the see-through sleeves loose yet tightening around her wrists, small dots littering around the fabric. Her boyfriend pulls the skirt down after he zips himself, up, as if that does something to hide the fact that her hair is done a mess, her pink lipstick has suddenly disappeared (if she doesn’t count the remaining bits on her chin), and there is the tiniest layer of sweat on her forehead when she clears her throat.

The image on that mirror is of a woman sedated by a physical connection. Not of a Lady, per say. Not of the conceptualization that the castle has given her.

And she loves it.

It was not something she had done—afraid that someone would walk in, too much of a pillow princess for her to ever think about even doing anything outside of the bedroom, but trying it out just came to her head. There, in Joshua’s land, visiting a ball and not being the center of attention of people’s judgement, the thought of conversations they had in the past slipped inside her head and she ended up dragging him to the nearest bathroom. For a moment, Joshua seems to be happy, arms wrapping around her waist as she does quick wonders on her purse to grab her lipstick.

“…The best part is that I had to listen to Chopin as I did that.” The joke appears in between them as a whisper and she can’t help but chuckle, taking the tube of lipstick and smearing a bit across her lips.

“Nothing sexier than Chopin.” She speaks out, not quite remembering the moment that said piano expert’s music played from the ball on itself. Whatever. Instead, she concentrates on making herself look more presentable. “But we have another issue at hand.”

“What?” Joshua asks, chin pressed to her shoulder as he stares at her. With time, he has only gotten better—eyes more profound, lips rosier, voice more of a lullaby than anything.

“You need to stop doing this.” She instructs, lifting her upper lip the slightest to show bite-marks, the most subtle of darkening spots that come from the deepest of his kisses. “It’s hard to hide and it’s embarrassing because anyone could notice.”

“It’s not noticeable.” Joshua conquers, a pout to his voice. He pulls away the slightest then, fixing the collar of his shirt, silence falling in between them until he frowns deeply. “Babe, what the fuck?”

Annoyance lingers on his tone, and she has to look over her shoulder to see what bothers him. One glance at his face says nothing, his neck is not littered in hickeys—for, she is not much of a fan of marking him in any way. Lower, she realizes what the issue is, her pink lipstick ended up on one portion of his white button down. “Oh shit, sorry.” That’s all she can manage to say, but Joshua sighs instead.

“This is an expensive shirt, babe.”

She has to roll her eyes at this. “Everything you own is expensive, Shua. I’m sure it’s fine—”

“I have to talk to some investors in, like, twenty minutes. This is not a good look.” One last glide of her lipstick should be enough, she tells herself, sparing Joshua a look over her shoulder before sighing.

He wasn’t saying that when they got to this bathroom ten minutes ago. “I already said sorry,” She starts. “Besides, we have water here. We can just pat it out and see what happens—”

A smile appears on his features when she opens the water faucet, droplets cascading in a rapid motion before he closes the tab again. “Babe, this is a Louis Vuitton.”

She quirks an eyebrow then. “And you’re Joshua Hong. They’re just names, what’s the matter?”

“You don’t just pour water on it.”

Though, she has spent enough time with the maids to know the basics about washing clothes or taking a stain out in a rush. “Joshua, how do you think they wash clothes? With water—”

“I’m sure it’ll only ruin it more. Like, drag the stain or something.” Joshua replies, always thinking ahead of himself as he closes the buttons of his golden jacket, staring at himself in the mirror. He fixes the strands of his black hair that had fallen out of place in his forehead before clearing his throat. “I’m sure that would do.”

He’s not wrong, but— “Then, why start that whole drama about your Louis Vuitton shirt?”

“It wasn’t drama.” Joshua whispers, turning to look at her before running his hands over her arms, her legs trying to regain their composure to walk in those high heels. “I just—I’m very nervous, okay? I’ve been doing well with my investments, but it’s the first time I try to invest in something that isn’t music related.”

She lets him touch her, because there is something magical about Joshua. Knowing that he was a first—that she was lucky enough to get the person she liked on the long run, maybe the comfort and familiarity of him. Joshua spends days in his land and days in hers, basks in her presence in both sides, makes it known that he is trying to secure his future, build an empire for himself. Not a single minute goes by without the man thinking what to do next. He’s always had it together.

Crossing one leg over the other, she grasps his face in both of her hands, inspecting who should be hers. What, sometimes, he calls hers. Why is it that the name itself seems to sound lovely to her but doesn’t fit him at all? Joshua Hong is not hers. He is inherently his.

“You always do great.” She whispers, one step forward before meeting her lips with his. Kissing him always feels passionate, like he can’t get enough of her—but time passes too quickly when he does. Rushed, he is, eager to taste more, to have more. For someone as quiet and posh as him, Joshua knows what he wants. When she pulls away, breath taken away, she hears the soft lull of the piano outside. “Besides, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You’ve gone over what you were going to say a bunch of times and you’ve met up with them before. This is only the last step.”

“The last step is always the hardest.”

“But whatever the outcome is, you can always say you tried.”

Joshua opens the door to the bathroom then, the apples of his cheeks lifted when he asks: “Since when did you become so wise?”

Maybe, the words of the Duchess had gotten to live inside her head—what if Joshua did not feel the same as her? What if all those kisses, nights of passion, comfort, were only livelihoods for him? Ways to spend time in her land? Ways to feel like he has a home to go to even when he’s always around, from lands to countries. “I don’t know. History books make you sound posh sometimes.”

“Remind me to start the habit of reading.”

He always says the same thing, a resolution of each year they’ve spent together—but it never happens.

The public loves them. They adore the way Joshua seems to shield her from any eyes with a hand around her waist, or how he seems to take care of her utmost necessities—if her glass is empty, or if she’s hungry. What they don’t know is that this is not the realistic version of them. It’s the happy one—that one that bathes in longing after not seeing each other for an extended period of time, the happy couple that is not so happy because they avoid arguments at all cost. They don’t know that she’s wary of the eyes that linger on him or the way he talks about his life as immaculate. He hasn’t gone back to his castle in years. There is a part of him that doesn’t speak about the heartbreak that came with knowing he was last in line when it came to being a possible King.

He never talks about that. Closed-off. Perhaps, masking it as something he’d rather ignore. Joshua likes covering it up with a veil and let it dust, while she loves talking about her utmost feelings whenever she can. Hana, for example, is an excellent listener as well as a storyteller.

She wishes she had a better dress by the time they get to the center of the room to dance, burgundy walls and brown tiles, gliding against her heels and leaving her legs to touch the coldness of the atmosphere surrounding them. Something longer, perhaps, to feel like a Princess when Joshua is looking directly into her eyes. He smiles then, pulling her closer to whisper something onto her ear.

“Hey, you’re stepping on me.” He says, a chuckle following after his statement before pulling away the slightest. “Skipped those dancing classes, didn’t you?”

“You’re just invading my space, that’s all.” She replies, a bit of embarrassment in her tone when she pinches his shoulder. “Stop talking like that. You’re also not Prince Junhui from the eastern lands.”

He shrugs, something that irks her endlessly. What’s with this overconfidence tonight? “It doesn’t matter.” He conquers, looking down at his feet after. “Try not to ruin my shoes, too, okay?”

“Shua!” She yells in a whisper, eyes widened. “You’re being an ass right now.”

But, as per usual, Joshua gives her one of his enchanting smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips that sneaks a few gasps and sighs of content from the couples watching them. One of the most gorgeous and awaited lovers for the night. “You know I’m just joking,” Though, sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. “And I love you just as you are.”

“I love you, too.” She tells him, a flutter to her chest, but why is it always hard to believe him?

###

September 25th. Three years ago.

“My Lady!”

Hana’s dulcet voice has aged with time, she realizes, a tad different from the unrestrictive strength of her energetic self twenty-something years ago, when she was assessed as her maid and protector. She’s a little bit over her fifties as of now, her short hair bouncing with each step she takes towards her, the length of her black skirt making it difficult for her to walk through the green fields at the entrance of her castle. With wrinkles covering her features and a thin layer of sweat living on the bridge of her nose, her eyelids and her neck, she realizes one thing.

Or two, rather.

One, she really missed home.

Two, she really missed her mom—Hana. The only woman that had grown alongside her, heard about her crush on Joshua when she was a teenager, gave her advice when she went on her first date, and would click her tongue whenever she spoke about some of the issues they had and pushed to the very back not to be talked about.

“Hana!” She breathes out, letting her luggage fall down on the floor to be taken by the butlers, arms extending to encage the taller woman in between her grasp, basking on the familiar scent of oil from the kitchen. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Though, the woman pushes her weight away from her, a mocking smile on her rounded features. “Ah, I doubt it. You were with your boy, the apple of your eye, Prince Joshua.”

“The love is different.” With one arm around her shoulder, she starts to walk forward. “How have things been in the castle?”

“Pretty dull without you, actually.” Hana includes, lowering her body when a few branches come across their way. She rests her hand on Hana’s head, just in case, aware of how important this woman is for her. Not a single line shall shatter the vase of stone that is Hana, fundamental to anything she does. “Though, we have had visitors to keep us entertained while you were gone.”

Some days that she is not unhappy about missing, actually. “Visitors? What were they this time?” She prompts. “Another businessman? Are we talking aristocrats or—?”

“An heir, actually.”

“Like Joshua?”

Hana hisses through her crooked teeth, licking something on the inside of her cheek in a way that brings a smile up her features. They are getting closer to the park by the side of their little castle, perched there for the two sisters to enjoy while they were younger—thus, nowadays used for the gossiping and chattering needed to coexist in such a harsh world like this. “Not to make you feel bad, my Lady, but I would not compare this young man to Prince Joshua. I don’t make the choices in your life, but Prince Joshua is as bland as the chef’s chicken water after he washes the meat.”

For a second, she tries to think how others would. What about Joshua Hong seems to be bland? His lack of expression, perhaps, his preparation, the way he always seems to fit in with everyone. If a lot of people like him, that must be that Hana is on the wrong.

“He is not bland.” She says, letting her dress trail on the green grass, not caring if the fabric gets stained. “Mind you.”

“Oh, I am minding me.” Hana says, moving her neck slightly as she lets go of her. “There is nothing substantial about the man is all I’m saying.”

“Why?”

“Darlin’, I know you love him…” The maid says, twirling her fingers around the necklace that rests on her sternum, all the angles of her body highlighted by the action. “But I have this little patting, bickering bird on the top of my head that gives me the feeling that he’s not the love of your life…and you’ve given up so much for him.”

Rather, she has given up a lot for everyone. Mother was over the moon the moment she confirmed her relationship with Joshua, fingers threaded with his, promises made a reality. Father? He didn’t care much—said what he had to say, only to leave. Education be forgotten for the duties of a Lady, for becoming the perfect example of what the real Royal family should have been like. That meant that her dreams of studying history went down the drain, replaced by endless hours of eternal love for Joshua Hong.

Sometimes, it is tiring.

Tiring to a plus-one.

To be the woman of a man. Someone’s someone.

She lets it go. If she has to be someone’s, she’d rather be his.

“That’s what I always tell her.”

The sound of her sister speaking to her has her perking up, a smile appearing on her features to cloud any moment of rainy thoughts that translated onto her face. Eyebrows well raised, shoulders way back, she extends her hands to grasp her sister in her hold, only to be met by crossed arms and a strong frown.

“And it fucking disgusts me that we planned on going to university together and now I see her beyond happy for spending some days with her long-distance boyfriend.”

She spits it out as if it is venom, as if every meter that separates Joshua and her physically have becoming everything and the factor of their issues. “I’m sorry,” She puts her hands down, a bit of a bite on her tone. “I hate that I have been pushed to be like this, but this is what I was meant to do—”

“S—Since when going after a man is what you have to do?!” Her sister asks, the wind moving the flowers on her dress as she steps forward, fingers curling around the air like a vice, a threat to their conversation. “I expected you to come here having broken up with that asshole!”

“He isn’t mean to you, why call him an asshole?” Born under different circumstances, her sister never waited a second to speak back. She always thought of her as the light of her days because of that—a word would never go unspoken by her. However, this time around, it hurts. Expected romanticism has translated into real love, what was once looking for a man has now become expecting for him to come back.

It’s devastating for her sister, apparently. “Because he took my sister away.”

“What are you talking about? I’m here.”

“Barely.” Her younger sister spits out, curling an eyebrow on her forehead. “What is it about you right now that connects to your old self? You spend every given second trying to follow after Mother’s awful rules of marriage and it’s starting to look pathetic.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” One step forward has Hana grasping her by the forearm, but she tugs at her. “I’m your older sister, I get to make my decisions without having you question me as if I’m some fucking child.” She spits out, looking up and down her sister’s features before the woman scoffs.

“And what? Are you an example for me?” She asks. “You’re nothing like an older sister anymore. It’s about time you wake up and realize the world is not going to change for the better if you marry a man just because you have to.”

“Who said we’re getting married? He hasn’t even asked—”

“Has he talked about it?” Her sister asks, only to have her shaking her head.

“I don’t see why—”

“Has he talked about the future with you? The longtime future when his cheeks are saggy, his hands are wrinkly, his voice can’t sound the same—?” She stops, jutting her chin forward to further emphasize her words. “Has he?!”

Her chest heaves up and down, trying to recoil in a memory that doesn’t exist. Joshua has never talked about such thing. He doesn’t even know if he wants to get married or not.

If I ever get married, he has said.

It has never been: if we ever get married…

When we get married? No.

“No.” The answer rips through her throat in a way that makes her ache, though her tone is soft. Her sister smiles sadly then, flaws pointed out to her when she shakes her head.

“Then, he’ll never ask.”

“Give your sister a break, she just arrived here.”

That voice sounds oddly familiar, but the time in her head doesn’t go back to the time it sounded against her eardrums until she looks up at the man that pulls her sister away from her. The oxygen goes back to her lungs, only to be stolen by him—wavy black hair curling against his forehead, straight eyebrows and monotone eyes still looking breathtaking on him. Something about the guy that saved Heejin, Xu Minghao, as tranquil as ever, relaxes her on the spot, beauty beyond what transcends through him…but in the lake that patters each drop to create him, mellow and peaceful.

His jacket moves with him, black as coffee, his oversized white button down on his chest making him look more elegant. Since the last time she saw him, perhaps hanging out with her sister like he always does as her best friend, he has grown quite a bit.

“Minghao, you’re a guy.” Her sister says, turning to look at her friend, much taller than her. “A man will make plans with you only if he wants to keep you long time, true or false?”

Minghao keeps his straight expression, though a glint of pity appears on his irises when he interlocks his hands behind his back. “Ah…I’d say true.” An answer from a man has her heart dropping to the floor. Not that she wanted to get married right now…but knowing that Joshua did not even consider an option, according to popular opinion, made her feel undesirable. "But, then again, that shouldn’t be something to criticize her for. Every sailor decides which ship they want to sail."

At times, she wonders if the ship that has already sailed will make her happy. “He is right.” She includes, finally connecting her gaze with Minghao’s when he turns to her. “Thank you, Minghao.”

“Just…this is none of my business,” He raises his hands in the air momentarily, letting them drop to his side in a gracefully dance. “Be careful.”

His cousin is good friends with Joshua, and the sentence alone scratches at the insecurity inside of her. “Why should I?” She asks, trying to keep levelled, though her eyes feel like they’re permanently blinking under the weight of her tears.

“Sometimes, when a man doesn’t express a lot of emotions is because he doesn’t actually feel them. It’s the same for both men and women—overthinking is just too much thinking at times.” The advice rushes through his lips, though his voice is calm. One step forward brings him closer to her, pulling the sleeves of her dress down to keep her warmer, fingers barely skimming over her skin in a way that has her looking down at the connection in between the two. “Welcome back, Lady.”

She breathes out her name, looking into his eyes in the process. “You never call me Lady.”

“Maybe, I’ll call you Princess one of these days.” Minghao retorts, a shrug coming after. “Does it change you as a person? Whether you’re a Princess, a Lady, or just plain old you?”

She thinks for a moment, shaking her head. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Then, it isn’t worth it to marry someone just for a title. Or push it, rather.” Minghao finalizes, lowering his face to smile up at her, soft and strong, something so inherently him. Epiphanies, perhaps, made into a person—contradiction over contradiction that complexes him beyond her understanding. She’s an intelligent woman, just not intelligent enough to figure him out. “Come on, a smile?”

His voice is much too soft, and it’s only broken through when her sister scoffs. “Come on, Minghao.” She says, nearing them with dragged steps. “I think I’ve bothered her enough. The smile won’t be real if you get it out of her like that.”

One look at her sister tells her that she’s sorry, but instead of awaiting the moment she says so, she gives a small smile. “I’m here to prove you wrong, aren’t I?” She retorts to the youngest.

“Much to my distaste.” The youngest answers, tugging at her friend’s blazer. “We’re going to study, want to tag along after you’re done unpacking?”

“I’d love to.”

###

October 10th. Three years ago.

He’s out again.

And it’s not the fact that hundreds of people get to see his smile, the brightness of it and how blinding it can become, that has her seated in front of the castle, phone placed in between her fingers, grasping it to her chest as if one simplistic ring of the device could make her feel alive again. It’s not that Joshua has the most beautiful set of eyes she has ever seen—and she has always wondered if they’re emotionless, or he’s just really good at controlling what he feels. That’s not what has her jealous.

It’s not that Joshua always dresses to the nines, loves feeling like he is the most watched man in the room—but never says it. Mighty may be the person that gets Joshua to confess something with much of a reaction, even a surprised gasp. He relishes in keeping levelled, while she feels too much. Another press of the button on her phone tells her that it is twelve at night and Joshua is still out.

He has been out all day.

She counts the texts again. Sent by her? Twenty-three. Sent by him? One.

It was seven in the morning, and Joshua had the audacity to send a picture of himself, sprawled in his bed when he’s here, in the same land as her, one hand covering his forehead, fingers threading through his dark locks, half-closed eyes and a dizzy smile. He said ‘good morning’, and the burn in her stomach told her that she had fallen in love again.

He never answered to her ‘good morning’, her ‘good afternoon’, her ‘hey, you just saw my message, why aren’t you replying?’. The ‘haven’t you eaten?’ that mocks her.

Keep sucking ass, Lady. It looks wonderful on you.

Wealthy enough to throw the phone against the concrete under her, she wishes she had the lack of composure to do so. To feel all the hatred and uselessness that racks like books inside of her, mocks her for being able to stand so much. A boyfriend of years that doesn’t even answer her texts, that had planned going out with his friends upon landing on her land just because he wanted to meet up with them. Now, when he said he’d be with her at seven, he continues to be in some raunchy club with his friends.

Seven is the worst fucking number in the world right now.

Doubts clash against her ribcage when the flimsy fabric of her nightgown clings to her skin. Her hair, less from perfect, suddenly becomes an insecurity. Her eyes. Her nose. Her lips. The way she had let go in comfort for him—in the feeling of acceptance that he had once bathed upon her but now bites her back. What if he’s in that club with one of his friends? What if one of those friends are interested in him?

She swallows thickly, trying not to scream when she hides her face in between her legs, but she does. Harsh enough to be heard by someone, but not someone in the castle. What kind of Duchess is waiting for her boyfriend in front of a castle, dressed and ready to sleep, only to be left behind like some toy?

She grabs the phone again, and types with all the will in the world—

To: Shua.

I deserve better than you.

But she deletes it.

She can’t tell him that.

She doubts him, but questions the jealousy that creeps up on her as well. Maybe, he is just having fun—his world shouldn’t revolve around her.

When she stands up, her mind is only set on grabbing something to eat. Call it a third dinner, perhaps, but she needs to concentrate on something else. The entrance doors of the castle open up for her like magic, all thanks to the guards, as she makes her way towards the kitchen. A good cardio away from her, but the smell of the leftover baked potatoes that lay on her refrigerator calls out for her attention even from meters away.

Though, upon entering the kitchen, someone else has half of his body placed inside the refrigerator, long limbs grabbing something in his hands that he can’t quite decipher. Not her refrigerator, but the one designated for her sister’s food instead—used by her chef, and apparently, by Xu Minghao.

Her body splays against the marble island by the middle of the kitchen, the low yellow lamps making her eyes hurt…or is it that, maybe, Minghao in his university-student form is really a sight to look at? His hair is pushed away from his face, haphazardly in the process, like he didn’t have time to do it. Some glasses rest on the bridge of his nose and the red turtleneck sweater on his body is as bright as the apples that he holds in between his hands. Two on each hand.

“Am I getting robbed by Snow-White?” The question leaves her, though in a badly joked manner, before she could fully think about it. Maneuvering his feet up, Minghao closes the refrigerator’s door with one swift motion before laughing at her words.

“That’s your sister’s fridge, and we have a final tomorrow that I feel like I’m going to fail.” Minghao confesses, putting the apples down on the island before leaning his weight forward. Everything about him feels like a silhouette of what could be in an art museum. “Something about math being part of a business major’s life just doesn’t sit well with me.”

For what she can remember in the times she has seen Minghao and her sister studying together, he is— “You’re excellent at math, though.”

“…I guess.” Minghao says, biting down on his lip. “I’m good at a lot of things, if I do say so myself, but there’s that gut feeling that tells me I’m going to fail.”

“Why so?”

“The professor hates me, for one.” The enigma instructs, extending his palm on the island to draw little circles on the surface. Had his hands always been this pretty? “I told him that one of his equations was wrong and that was all it took for him to have my head on the next test.”

Shaking her thoughts away from Minghao’s hand, she looks up. “But you corrected him, that means you were smarter than him.”

“It means he made a mistake. We all do.” He finalizes, ready to grab the apples on his hands and say his goodbyes until she interrupts him.

“…Do you think we should forgive people just because they make mistakes?” She asks, making Minghao stop on his tracks, his back turned to her as she plays with her hands. “As in, forgive them every time they do?”

“Not always.” Minghao, always one for an answer, debates as he turns around. “Some mistakes are worth standing someone for. Others are just not.”

“What kind of mistakes would you apologize?”

“Forgetting something, for example.” Though, he doesn’t seem to be thinking deeply about it. “Or…if someone accidentally ate something I left on the fridge or something like that. I’m not one to forgive people for deep shit.”

“Conceptualization of deep shit?”

“Mhm, depends.”

“Not everything in life is relative, Minghao.”

“But, oh why, it is!” The heir conquers, looking at her for a second before smiling softly. “What we see is not what we really think it is.”

“And how do I know what it really is?”

“You listen to what your gut says.” He says. “Life is difficult, but we have the answers inside ourselves to make the right decision for us.”

For a moment, she wants to pretend like her gut has always told her Joshua is the right man for her. But, that’s not the truth. The right man didn’t open doors for her, but loved to be with her whenever he could. The right man didn’t spend every single second with her, but made every minute they spent together the reason why she misses him when being with other people. The right man made her feel unique—like that one imperfection on her skin isn’t worth that much thinking from her, or that the curves or lack of in certain places aren’t something to hold onto as if they conceptualize her.

The right man doesn’t spend an entire day not answering to her texts.

The right man chooses to visit his girlfriend first when he has spent weeks without seeing her.

The right man doesn’t leave her standing, on her nightgown, inspected by a man that studies her eyes from too close, shoulders going up and down with each breath before his smile erases and he says—

“This is about Joshua, isn’t it?”

Not having the heart to deny it, she nods. “He hasn’t answered in the entire day.” She admits, hard to say it out loud without feeling judged. By his actions, nonetheless. “…And, well, he did say yesterday he was going out to the beach with his friends from here once he arrived, and that he’d be going to the club after that, but he said he’d be here by seven—”

Minghao’s jaw tightens, placing his hands on her shoulders to make her turn around. “Then, go to bed—”

“What if he comes home?”

“He will not.” Minghao boldly replies for what he thinks of Joshua’s thoughts. “Not only has he stood you up, but he preferred going out with his friends than meeting up with you, his girlfriend, when getting to your land. I think that’s enough for you to go to sleep or cut ties with him immediately.”

That makes her stop on her tracks, no longer moving towards the stairs but instead, thinking about his words. Leaving Joshua, that is. “…I can’t.”

“Can’t you or don’t you want to?”

The question weights her down. Both sound pathetic at this point. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll tell you what it is,” Minghao stands in front of her, fixing the glasses on his face before sighing. “You’re waiting for him to change. That, one day, he’s going to wake up and choose you over the world. You think about all those things that people say about people just needing to go through phases, and you think this is a phase—”

More than anger, disdain bubbles up inside her. “He is young, maybe this is a phase—”

“It’s not.” Minghao says. “He chose them over you. He chose partying over you. That has to say a lot about what he thinks of you.”

“…I guess.”

“Think about it.” The heir concludes his advice with that, putting an apple up to his mouth before giving it a big bite. “I’ll go study. See you later.”

With that, he leaves.

###

October 11th. Three years ago.

She liked delicacy, but that never meant she liked it when people thought she was made out of glass. Invisible, easy to break, easy to taint when breathing against it—she’s strong, even if the hits of life have left a stain on her one too many times. Punches to be taken just for the sake of it.

Let the glass that represents her be broken, at the edges that people managed to ripped but never broke her entirely. Her first friend, a young boy that flew away from the land when he was six, and left her with the memory of him. Her second friend, a young girl when she was nine, that pushed her around to make her feel miniscule—always better than her, prettier than her, smarter than her, with nicer clothes than her. It was over after four years. Then, five years went by of people that were not that good either, always coming back with that sense of hope that told her…one day, the right people will come around.

What if they never did?

Because the right man is standing in front of her at this moment, the smell of lasagna cladding the room and making her feel disgusted. Thick sauce, white and red, with meat. It all deserves to be trashed down, like the rest of the gifts Joshua carried all the way here on his forearms, his face void of any imperfections even when he must have knocked himself out yesterday with as much partying as he did.

The right man, Joshua Hong, has taken a piece of her. That edge that keeps pricking her whenever she passes by, and she never falls asleep like how it happens in fairytales. Needle-deep, it makes her wonder of his whereabouts. Makes her tighten her fists against the fabric of her dress, cross-legged on the bed as she watches him open one bag.

“I brought you something—”

“You never answered.”

Joshua stops then, leaving the plastic white bag on her cream sofa before smiling at her. Once he nears her, seated in front of her, Joshua places both of his arms around her waist, face to face with her. “But you didn’t speak, babe.”

From the moment Hana let him inside her room, just five minutes ago, she had not been able to organize her thoughts. Her guts tell her that there is something inherently wrong with this—with Joshua and how he is acting.

“Not speak?” She breathes out, each word more pointed than the other, looking up at him from a tilted position. “Is my lack of speech really an issue when I texted you like crazy last night? Called you just to see if you were okay and alive or breathing? Is that silence to you?!”

Her voice raises, enough to have Joshua pushing himself away from her, eyes widened when he replies: “Hey, I told you I was going out. That’s not—”

“What kind of boyfriend goes out with his friends when he had not seen his girlfriend for weeks and she’s right there, waiting for him—?” She asks, willing to break at that moment. If Joshua has to smash her body into pieces with one throw of reality at her, she’ll take it. “Really, Joshua? Don’t you have some sense of guilt in you?”

“I was doing business.” Joshua says, always too little, never enough, returning to the packages of gifts before scoffing. “It’s not like I didn’t remember you—”

“What?” She asks, getting closer to the bags on her sofa. “Some gifts are supposed to make me feel better?”

“I guess. I was thinking of you when I bought them.” Never does he lift his tone the slightest, and it irks her.

Placing both hands on her hips, she nods. “I’m at the wrong here, because my boyfriend ignoring me for an entire day and, over that, deciding to make business in a beach and a club is supposed to be a normal fucking thing—!”

Before she could lift his hands to grasp her head, Joshua connects his fingers to her wrists, keeping her in place to look her in the eyes. “Stop it with the dramatics. I don’t have to ask you for permission to go anywhere.”

“Oh yeah, you don’t.” She says, voice inherently low. “But it’s really low of you to prefer that over spending a night with me. An entire day, even.”

His back faces her at that moment, taking the gifts out of their confines as he speaks. “Well, I’m here right now, I don’t know why you don’t settle for that.”

Settle.

When has he ever settled for her?

Instead, she covers her eyes, tugging at her skin in a way that would have had her mother swatting her palms away. She can’t do it right now. “Joshua Hong, listen to yourself for a second. This is unfair for me.”

“Don’t you think I want to see you every day?” He questions, though she can’t see him she feels his lips resting on her momentarily. “I want to see you at every given second of the day…but I have other important things to do.”

Other important things to do.

The worst part is that he says it as if she’s not important.

Though, that’s not true. The worst of it all is when she lets go of her face, vision filled with stairs and blurriness, but mostly the picture of him in front of her, finally, when she says:

“I understand.”

But her gut feeling tells her she doesn’t.

###

April 23rd. One year ago.

The birds chirp freely for an early celebration, sunflowers mingling against her cream dress. Today, the big gowns are changed for something more simplistic—a prideful sister that embarks into a new road of success when looking at her sister graduate. In something that she likes, first and foremost, and definitely as if she was a Princess with the big celebration that Mother prepared. Though, for someone that complained that her youngest studied too much and lacked a man because of that, it surprised her that she had even planned anything at all.

Yesterday was the real event, students gathered together for one last time to close one of their chapters of adulthood. The last one in the educational stance, for those not approaching further education. Her sister preferred something more private then, asking her to tag along with Minghao to have some drinks and talk about life with people with as much power as them, given the university that she goes to, but with less of a stick up their asses. Good was an understatement for how well the night went.

Taking the cherry from her drink, she tosses her head back, relishing on the dulcet taste as the shadows the sun creates on her skin rest on her chest. Dress in the color of cream, off the shoulders, just tight enough to make her look like the adult she is, but loose enough to let her breathe. People mingle by the center, children bustling around, parents talking in between themselves, and Mother making herself the center of attention, even when her youngest sister is by her side.

A lot has changed for her sister. Meanwhile, nothing has for her.

One can only take so much scolding from their parents about not getting married, but like her sister had once said, Joshua is not quite ready. She doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready, but letting go makes a tingle go down her spine—perhaps, one day, he’ll want to. The possibilities are what make her stay, but it’s what makes her doubt the most. Downing the rest of her drink, she tries to think of something else other than the man talking business with some people in the corner, pristine as the day she met him and promised herself that it’d only be a tiny little crush.

“Enjoying yourself?”

The sound of that voice is oddly familiar. She remembers it more slurred yesterday’s night, throwing his gown somewhere on a couch to relish on drinks and good memories. Now, Minghao voices out his thoughts like he normally does, as if he had not been hungover this morning.

Letting the birds do their music when she looks at him, she shakes her head. “My juice is finished. Joshua can’t stop talking business with those men and you…my friend,” She lets her gaze go up and down his body, the sunflower shirt making her smile widely. “Are probably spring made person with that shirt.”

Tugging at the black fabric of his blazer to show the shirt, a few buttons opened to showcase his sharp collarbones and the hint of curved, yet slim pecs, Minghao looks down at himself. “I wanted to look the least professional I could.” He confesses, returning his gaze to her, though a bit squinted because of the harsh sun. “Your boyfriend may be perfect with business talks, but I am not. I can only pretend I am interested in what someone in saying about themselves until I actually tell them straight on that their lives aren’t that important.”

Hiding her laughter behind her glass, she drops the seed of the cherry inside before sighing. “Well, you’re a heir. You were prepared to be a businessman. I think that’s what makes you less interested in that.”

“That and years of studying.” Minghao finishes, taking a bite of a cookie he found on the food table nearby, munching for a few seconds before talking again. “Besides, Joshua has expanded far more than I have. My family owns an haute couture fashion brand and a modelling agency, it’s way different from Joshua’s musical takes.”

And then again, she has always wondered why she has never seen Minghao with some tall, skinny model that hangs on his arm like a beautiful match for him. “I don’t know…” She answers, puckering her lips when looking at Joshua. “At least, you don’t like the socializing but love the fashion aspect of your business. Joshua…he loves socializing with people nowadays, even if he doesn’t speak much. He just has to hang around people.”

“That’s what going out to too many parties does to you.” Minghao says, grabbing another cookie before offering it to her. “Cookie?”

“With chocolate chips?” She asks, already taking it in between her hands before taking a big bite. “I imagine how disturbed those businessmen would be if I went over there to hug Joshua and they’d saw a piece of chocolate on my teeth.”

“Devastated, perhaps.” Minghao says. “I doubt they have ever had a woman actually show themselves naturally to them. No posing. No falseness. Just plain old reality.”

“Do people really show themselves as they are in the business industry, though?” Rhetorical at most, she questions, shaking her head in the process.

“They don’t.” But, something seems to glisten in his eyes. “But you do.”

“Not really—” She tries to defend, heart picking up at the way those brown eyes look at her as if she’s different. “Mother has made my life miserable until I became the perfect image of what she wanted. Well, not really, I am not married yet but—”

“Even so,” Minghao interrupts her. “You may have to go around and throw some pleasantries to other people, but that doesn’t make you faux in any way.”

“It does.”

“No, you’re one of the most genuine people I have ever met.” Those words have her looking at him as he walks backwards, pushing his hair away as he chews on a new cookie. “It just so happens that you think being nice is not a personality trait a person can have, even yourself.”

“Well, I haven’t met a lot of nice people—” And still, she keeps around them.

Minghao, on the other hand, waves his hand in the air. “Nice to meet you, then. I’m Xu Minghao.”

The smile on her face is forever petrified after that.

It must be a pleasure for Joshua’s business associates to see her smile so brightly, his hand placed on her waist as she holds onto his chest for leverage. Perhaps, she loves the way he sees her the most when he is around people—as if he has seen the answers to all his prayers on her very own irises.

This time around, Joshua impresses more than usual. A bowtie, hair pushed away from his face by some gel, and a black suit that leaves everything to the imagination. Nothing quite creative there, just plain old classic that makes him look good enough to desire.

“You two seem to have a great relationship.” One of the businessmen says, his beard practically connecting his chest to his jaw, rounded glasses on the bridge of his nose, wrinkles giving his age away, perhaps making him look older. “I remember when I was like that with my wife. Lots and lots of good times, you know?”

Joshua looks at her chuckling, pleasantries over all, and she stares back as he lets go of her waist. “Well, then we’re lucky, Mr. Kim,” Joshua says. “Because she is going to be my wife soon.”

Her face falls then, just like Joshua’s hand does to search for a box inside his pocket. People around them start to go quieter, watching the movements he does as he opens the velvety box with carefulness.

“J—Joshua—”

Both of her hands come up to her mouth when Joshua shows the ring. Rose gold with one big platinum diamond in the middle, surrounded by medium sized speckles of brightness. She’d count around thirty diamonds, all engraved around the ring that reads his name on the inside.

Her name is breathed out, as if it’s poetry—never one for romanticism, it takes her aback that he has gone back to that breathy tone that once enamored her. He doesn’t drop on one knee, instead pushes the ring halfway into her finger before asking.

“Will you finally become my wife?”

Say no, her guts say, wrenching, wanting nothing more than to run away. The right guy would have never done this—

But the time she has waited for him, the years she has spent liking him and the will to continue with this just for the same of accommodation has her nodding slowly, extending her hand even more to let the ring fully engulf her finger. Fit like a glove.

“Yes, Joshua, of course.” She says, cheers coming soon after when Joshua wraps his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the curve on the bridge of her nose before leaning down to capture her lips in one of those overly-passionate kisses of his.

The last person she sees before closing her eyes to kiss Joshua is Minghao, a tight-lipped yet tranquil smile on his face as he claps slowly. It almost feels like he is saying…

Glad you found the wrong one for you.

###

August 1st. One year ago.

Joshua’s land has always been different to hers.

More up North, this time of the year welcomes its freezing cold, perspiration coming from every window, words tangled by the smoke that leaves people’s lips, and, of course, how to forget the marvelous fog that barely lets her look out of the window to sip on her cup of tea as people rush around to show her yet another color scheme for the wedding.

Greeneries are mostly what she is used to seeing. Not mountains, not hills, definitely not the lack of flowers that has her pushing herself away from the window to look at one of the workers in Joshua’s castle. Upon her visit, the wedding preparations have resumed, and with Joshua somewhere in the castle preparing for a presentation tomorrow, she’s left to make decisions on her own.

“Lady, Lady, Lady!” The overexcited, chirpy, and tall woman with the fringe in front of her moves it away to showcase her color scheme, all tones of the rainbow making her squint her eyes harshly. God, she’s tired of this. “You said you wanted yellow for your wedding.” Of course, because it reminds her of sunflowers, and there has never been a flower more beautiful. Home has sunflowers. Her grandmother’s castle had sunflowers. Hell, sometimes she likes to pluck one inside her hair. “But I need to know which shade you want for the overall theme—”

“Sunflower-toned yellow.” She says, bringing her cup up to her lips only to be met with lukewarm tea. She likes it piping hot, but no one seems to listen to her around this castle.

“So, is that like a toasted yellow?”

“Have you seen a sunflower before, Yerim?”

“Of course.” The older woman says, pushing her hair off her shoulders before looking down at the color scheme. “But are we talking Dead Sunflower-toned yellow or—?”

Okay, fuck this.

“Just—” Raising her hands in the air, she takes one of the many papers that Yerim had displayed. “I want this yellow.”

“That’s not sunflower yellow, My Lady.” Yerim instructs, going after her as she tries to get out of that living room. Not that it should be called that way, each and every single moment of certainty she had to get married to Prince Joshua now seems to die down upon the appearance of the wedding preparations. “That’s pee-colored yellow.”

“…Yerim!” She speaks a little too loud, startling the woman when she places one hand on the railing of the stairs, ready to go up to Joshua’s room and embark in a trip down the sets of history books he keeps in his shelves. “I don’t mind if it’s pee-colored yellow. I just want it to be yellow.”

Yerim puckers up her lips then, perhaps annoyed but unable to say it. “Well…don’t come around and tell me I didn’t tell you when all your invitees tell you your decorations look like pee.”

“I’ll be glad to hear them say it.” The sarcasm drips from her tone, releasing a sigh that has her feeling guilty. The woman is only doing her job, but the doubts of not knowing how this wedding is going to go—or perhaps, that she doesn’t fully believe Joshua is settling down for her, has her fuming internally. “Yerim? Sorry for acting like this. You know better than I do, and I am so thankful with your job.”

“Not to worry, Lady. I dealt with each of the Hong weddings and you have been the kindest.”

Damn, she can’t imagine how the others are. Instead, she decides to give her a soft smile. “I’ll be up in Joshua’s room if you need me.”

“Check his pee and see if that’s the color you want!”

“Yerim…”

“Yes, My Lady?”

“You’re pushing it.”

Missing her land is something she would have never thought she’d do. She doesn’t miss the situation she normally finds herself in, trying to please her parents and the landers alike, but that is far from what makes her ache when she looks around the castle, trying to remember the way back to Joshua’s room. Hana would have already been by her side. Her sister would have come visit, finally independent and away from the castle. Maybe, Minghao could tag along, her best friend over everything and anything—

Through the elongated hallways, with white walls and squared floorings, she finds the door to Joshua’s room on the far end, near the elevator that would have made it much easier to go up instead of using the stairs.

Instead, she opens the door with quick motions, not surprised to see Joshua seated in front of his personal desk, spacious enough for it to be considered the size of an office, a contract up to his face as he sports his best set of glasses. With the buttons of his shirt half undone, and his trousers hugging his legs nicely, she guesses he must be done with his online presentation.

“How was the presentation, love?” She asks, not missing a beat to go to the shelves next to Joshua’s office, surprised to see the width and tallness of some of them. Dark wood, bright under the sunlight, and filled with books like a library would have them.

Joshua finishes reading something on the contract before looking at her. “It was fine, babe.” He says, though, something in his voice tells her he is about to complain. “I thought I could make myself clearer, but I am not very good with introductions.”

She looks through the history books, trying to get to one she hasn’t read. Maybe, she should catch up on his land’s history. “You do just fine. You just get nervous.”

“I just don’t know what to say—”

Her fingers graze the spine of each book. Read. Read. Read. Read. “You’ll learn with time. You’re still young.”

“I’ve been in this business for years.”

“Well, you started extra young, and you’ve gotten so much better.”

“I guess, but—”

The spine of one book stops her from listening him, Joshua’s name written on it. She gets it out, surprised to see another book fall backwards, the number two following his name. When looking at the cover, she realizes that this is his diary—written there, only for her to see, is Joshua’s diary. Followed by a sequel, and then a third book, and then a fourth—

“Joshua, I didn’t know you used to write diaries.”

Those words are enough to have him up his feet, perhaps a little bit too slow for seduction, but quick enough to have him closing the book before she reads the first page, lifting her chin with his finger when he moves forward, making her walk backwards in the process.

“Old, stupid things that I used to write when I was younger. I stopped writing them years ago.” Joshua instructs, a movement on his eyes to sense his nervousness, though his lips are distracting when they land upon hers. His arms grasp around her waist, bringing her closer until he was waltzing around with her, sending her closer to the bed. “I used to write about you, too.”

“You did?” She asks, the voice of hope that comes when she realizes she likes Joshua for a reason. Most of the time, she doesn’t get to see it—but it exists there.

He hums, biting her bottom lip before letting her fall on the bed, the mattress jumping a bit at her weight, though she doesn’t pay attention to it, vision centered on him when he whispers. “Yes, about how beautiful you are…” His knees plant on the bed, right in between her legs, arms extending on each side of her head. Now hovering over her, he looks down at her lips. “And how much I wanted to do you on my bed.”

“Joshua!” She chuckles, hiding her face in his neck when he says those words. “You don’t get to say that!”

“I do.” He replies, pecking her cheek before descending for another kiss. Somehow, those diaries are left forgotten for a moment—whatever he has written in there is his business, after all, and with some chapters about her in those books, she can’t ask for anything else.

###

August 4th. One year ago.

When sunflowers rest in between her hands to pick the organic, natural decorations of her wedding, she doesn’t expect her human sunflowers to have surprised her with a flight to Joshua’s land.

Minghao. Hana. Her sister. All in that order.

Truthfully, she has never been more thankful for Hana. For a woman that only got to marry once, only to lose her husband soon after, she surely knew about wedding preparations. Everything that she had not been able to explain is now being jotted down by Yerim, seated on a bench in the corner of the flower shop, not once losing focus.

Her sister, however, despised the atmosphere—giving the excuse of going to grab something to eat before disappearing completely. Perhaps, she’s doing something she really loves doing, playing tourist and rummaging around the land of the Prince she hates so much.

However, one person fits perfectly in this boutique-like flower shop, his white t-shirt something simplistic for him, but the brown pants reaching his waist and the beige cardigan something to remember. His hair moves thanks to his hand, picking up another bouquet of flowers—roses, this time around—, smelling them, and putting them down.

“How’s the family, Minghao?” She asks, far more comfortable with him than she was four years ago. Minghao raises his head then, giving one of those smiles that make his cheeks plumper before shaking his head.

“Mom and dad love the retirement; I can tell you.” Minghao whispers, the adoration in his voice not making her jealous. She wishes she had a relationship like that with her parents, but over everything, she is happy for him. “And I am absolutely thrilled to be picking up calls like crazy.”

“Those people are lucky they get to talk to you.” She says, looking at the cherry blossoms in one little vase before clearing her throat. Better swallow her pride now before he leaves. “I missed you.”

Minghao remains quiet for a few seconds, his hand rubbing against her back soon after. “I missed you, too.” He replies, a sweet lullaby when he sighs softly and goes over to pick another bouquet of flowers. “How’s Joshua?”

“The question of the day.”

“It wouldn’t be me if I didn’t ask.”

“Why?”

“Because Joshua is the reason you’re here. And you’re the reason I’m here. It’s a connection.” Minghao instructs, elbowing her side to get a few words out.

There is only so much she can take out of their relationship right now. No fights, thankfully, but the lingering voice inside her head tells her that it is not enough. Spending hours in his bed, twisting and turning, breathing out his name like a mantra, letting him kiss her until her lips ache isn’t exactly what she imagined for a lover. Conversation, silence even, can be even better at times.

“Ah…alright, I guess. We haven’t had a big fight in a while.” She says, letting her fingers play with the flowers as she walks sideways, followed by Minghao. “But there’s this lingering feeling that tells me there’s something he is hiding from me.”

“How so?” Minghao asks, studying her expression as she speaks. She will never understand how observant he is.

She stops on her tracks, Minghao’s chest colliding against her back and making the two of them stumble a bit. His hands wrap around her waist, keeping her in place as they both apologize at the same time. When he lets go of her, perhaps a bit nervous at the same time, she can’t help but chuckle. “Well, I—I discovered some diaries in his bookshelf. His. Like seven. The moment I mentioned them to him,” A snap of her fingers has Minghao looking down at her hand, the rose-gold band making a wild appearance. “Boom, he was trying to shut me up. Whenever I bring it up, I end up…” She pushes her lips together, not wanting to say much.

“You two end up fucking.”

“Minghao!”

“What, can’t a Lady fuck?” Minghao questions, laughter shaking her when the man shakes his head. “But that’s not something he should be doing to shut you up. Tell him that.”

“But what if it’s nothing?”

“Then, why wouldn’t he want to tell you?”

“Ugh, Minghao.” Pressing her index and middle finger to her temples, she sighs. “You need to stop making sense. You are too intelligent for my own good.”

His tan skin glows under the rare sunlight when he chuckles, shining brightly when he shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m just trying to be a good friend. That’s all I can do.” Though, the last sentence seems to have something else to do with them. She breathes in deeply, biting her bottom lip when Minghao rubs one thumb against her cheek, once, before pinching her cheek. “Check those diaries, or get it out of him. I don’t trust it.”

“Don’t you trust it or him?” She asks, trying to bring a smile up her face but Minghao shuts himself up.

“I think you know the answer.” He finalizes. Instead, he turns to the set of flowers. “Maybe we should go for white flowers for your bouquet? Since the wedding is going to be yellow themed and all. Bring some contrast—”

###

August 10th. One year ago.

The picture was flawless in her head. One of those dreams that she can’t recall if had been a reality or were just part of her imagination. Joshua, the new boy in the school, would fall so head over heels for her one day that he’d kiss the ground she laid upon. He’d make a rose out the words he told her. He’d turn chivalry into his way of speaking, love her for who she truly was, with so much adoration that each year would be stronger. Each and every single year, they’d grow into a sweet tune of comfort that could only come with so much love that she’d feel at ease. Not complete, for that was all her doing, but something of the like of that.

Then, years later, she should have imagined that there were risks to take with such a happy ending. Seated on that spacious desk, with Joshua fast asleep on the bed, she uses the light of her phone to illuminate all seven diaries. Three in the morning and a good reader, she thinks she can get through them—or, at least, skim through the most important stuff—, before he wakes up. It’s that sense of craziness and curiousness that bleeds out now that Minghao is back to her land that she truly feels like she needs to act upon the words he says.

The first few readings are cute. Joshua at fourteen, a bit dreamy eyed, a ton of stupid, and clearly not in love with anyone. She even finds herself trying not to laugh at some of those, at the notes he wrote on paper for his love for music, and all of the like.

Though, when Joshua turns sixteen, everything changes…and it’s not the presence of someone like her that does it.

Heejin comes up a lot in the first few pages. Beautiful, delicate, daughter of a businessman Heejin who owns a bunch of hospitals. Long dark hair, a beautiful smile, and carefree nature. Heejin who stole his first kiss. Heejin who went out on a date with him. At first, she believes that this truly comes with the passage of time. So what if Joshua had a little thing when he was a teen with Heejin? Now they’re much older, still friends, but he has been in a relationship for so long—

Second book, Joshua is seventeen. He has his first time with Heejin.

Third book, Joshua starts his relationship with her and it’s at this moment that she can’t stand reading that woman’s name—

“I wonder if I will ever feel like how I felt with Heejin with her.”

Joshua tends to make a lot of mistakes on his diaries, scraping them over with lines before continuing, but this one line came with so much confidence that she finds herself looking for more. That’s only the third book, there needs to be more.

Her eyes itch by the time it’s five in the morning, going through the fourth diary and feeling tears welding up quickly. Joshua speaks about not getting over Heejin, speaks about the uncertainty of his feelings—writes his name down with what seems to be love, initials and all, thinks of her as beautiful. As the most beautiful. Lusts and loves, adores and worships. Joshua’s goddess has always been Heejin, and it only further intensifies the feeling of hatred inside of her when she continues reading.

It’s by the sixth book that she realizes Joshua does not only love Heejin, but he also started seeing her again on the 8th of October, last year.

Seeing her like he would when he was younger.

Even better, now he’s wiser, a bigger liar, a bigger asshole.

She doesn’t know what takes over her, but she questions a lot of things. How dare he? First and foremost. How dare he take her first kiss, her first time, her entire train of thought? Make her lose her dreams, concentrate on him, lead him on as the front-man while she was in the background? How dare he write a hundred texts to her saying how much he missed her, how he wanted to kiss her, how she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid his eyes on, when he had always wanted Heejin?

How dare he keep bringing Heejin to every event? And how does Heejin even dare ask her for updates on her wedding preparations when she has seen it all? Seen the man she is about to marry fall so deeply in love with her that he’d risk a long lasting relationship just to be with her again, that he’d use her just to get over her, just to get over the fact that Heejin wanted to be free and while that was what made him fall for her, it’s also what kept them apart?

How dare he say that he had written hundreds and hundreds of pages about the beauty of her when there is only two?

The chair clanks against the floor when she stands up, abruptly, taking those two pages and crumpling them at the same time that she hears Joshua gasp away.

“Babe, what are you—?”

He doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence, the ball of paper ending up in between his lips as he fidgets to get away from her, whining in the process. “Shut the fuck up, I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit.” For the first time, she forgets she is a Lady. Tonight, she is someone sleep-ridden and heartbroken. Enough tears had been dropped for this man. “Thank you for those two little fucking pages in your diaries about Heejin, I very much appreciate my goddamned fiancé being head over heels for someone else.”

Joshua gets the crumpled paper out of his mouth, throwing it to the side as he stands up. “I can’t believe you read them—” And above all, there is a bit of resentment in his tone. “What about my privacy?”

“What about my dignity?” She asks, tears brimming her vision, but she won’t let them drop again. “You and your best friend have been having fun behind my back, but that’s not the worst part—you’ve used me to get over her.”

“I—I didn’t use you!” Joshua tells her, extending his hands forward before sighing. “Babe, can we just talk about this? I swear I didn’t use you.”

“Don’t swear.”

“But, I really do swear—”

“Don’t swear!” She screams, her throat hurting at the ripping motions of her vocal cords before shaking her head. “Don’t swear when I know it’s a lie—”

“Everything with Heejin has always been impossible—”

Yet, he still wants it. It has always been her. “So, you decided to be with me instead? I was the second choice?”

“No, God—” Joshua says, lowering his weight until he is kneeling in front of her. Never had he kneeled for anyone, a Prince above all, not even for his proposal, but now that he has been caught, he’s crawling like an ant. “I’m so…so sorry.” Kisses scattered across her thighs, enough to have her eyes closing tightly.

How many times has he done this for her?

“You were always the first choice! I just…I didn’t know how to…You…You were so in love with me, I didn’t know how to react.”

“So, instead of telling me you didn’t feel the same, you went on and cheated on me.” This time around, she pushes at his shoulders, soft enough to pull away from him before giving a few steps back. Her fingers wrap around that band, the one that she had been so doubtful to put on, and for a reason. “Take your ring and never talk to me again, Joshua Hong.”

“Hey, no, no—!” Joshua says, for the first time in his life lifting his voice, tears clouding his vision when he reaches for her wrist. “Don’t leave me, babe, you have given me everything.”

“And you gave me shit in return.” She finishes, shaking her head as she rushes out of that door. She can hear footsteps behind her, quickened, but she moves with the need to breathe. If she doesn’t get out of there as soon as possible, get on a plane and go back to her land, her lungs will contract so badly they will stop working—

When she reaches the entrance, she doesn’t hear Joshua rushing behind her anymore. He has stopped searching, stopped running, and it doesn’t surprise her.

It was never her he had been looking for.

###

December 22nd. Eight months ago.

The only time she has gone out of her room since arriving from Joshua’s land has been to grab pen and paper.

In fairytales, when a member of the Royal family locks themselves up in their rooms, it’s for a Prince to find them. What a surprise, it is, that she has locked herself to avoid anyone seeing her after making a fool of herself with that man for so long. The first few days, her Mother complained about Joshua calling her and telling her that she had broken off the engagement, calling her stupid for even letting go of such a man. Chivalry is dead, she said, and she believes it may be. With the passage of time, the only people that tried to get to her were Hana, her sister and Minghao. Only Hana managed to greet her, for she didn’t have the ability to face those who had seen her such in love with a man like that.

The pen glides across the paper with ease, her utmost desire coming to life now that she has become a mess of reading and writing. She knows what she wants, knows that it isn’t what she had. Being Joshua’s plus one had never been her thing, but the parties before and the pleasantries were much worse. This time around, she lets those professional words and charisma that she had been taught speak for herself, opting out of the Duchess position.

Perhaps, no one will care. It’s a certainty that not a lot of people remember her anymore, but she doesn’t want to be a Royal anymore. She will live here as long as she can before moving on to something else. That’s as much as she knows, but it will be more difficult once the news goes along. With one final movement of her wrist, she signs the letter, putting it inside an envelope before turning around to look at Hana standing by the door.

With her hands interlocked in front of her, Hana looks at her with worry. “Don’t mind it,” She says, standing up and letting her pajama pants drag against the flooring. Fuck all those dresses she used to wear. “I personally asked for you not to be fired. I know you need the job.”

“I—I won’t go anywhere if you don’t go.” Hana says, voice much stronger than intended before cowering onto herself. “You’re like my daughter, I can’t leave you now that you’re all saddened—”

“Ah-ha.” She tuts, moving her index finger from side to side before giving her the envelope. “I am not going anywhere without you. I’ll see what I can sort out for us with the money I have saved until I can give us the life we deserve. No more of this bullshit we have gone through.”

“Language.”

“Well, I am not going to be a Lady for much longer so…” Once again, she drags herself inside her bed, her home for the past few months, plopping her thumping head down on the pillow before smiling dizzily. Hana opens the door to the bedroom, and she watches the shorter woman about to leave until she asks her. “Hana?”

“Yes, sweetie?” Hana retorts, turning around with a much more dulcet expression than the worried one she had sported earlier.

“Will I ever feel better?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Hana says, taking the brief time to go over to her to press a kiss to her forehead, speaking against the skin. “You’re only one step away from happiness.”

“How about a hundred?”

“One big step, then.” Hana concludes, moving over to the door and closing it with some last few words. “But closer than you were before, honey.”

###

August 15th. Present day.

She has figured out that not a lot of people look up at her window to see if she’s there in that damned castle. It’s as though once she became an invisible matter, no one cared.

Books read, words written, and she still has a lot of work to catch up with. While locked in that room, she has managed to do something different with her life—past the drama that followed her departure from her title, and some speech through the walls to be able to stay for a few months while she gets her life sorted out, a new light has appeared in her life. Not that new, if she’s honest, she has always imagined herself doing something like this, but being a teacher’s assistant in one of the educational spots in the land wasn’t exactly out of her mind even when she was a Duchess. It’s tiring, revising tests is starting to worsen her vision, but it’s so worth it.

Most of the time, she spends it by the window, seated on the straight couch there, legs extended as she feels the weather of the day bask her. Today, it’s awfully gloomy for her land, fog coming up to people’s faces and blending them in when they enter the castle. None of them stare at the opened curtains of her window, neither do they care about her existence. With a sigh, she returns to the task at hand, revising one more test before she gets lost in the real dream that had always been part of her.

Studying history, technically, as a career.

Honesty is the best policy and she knows she got this job, partly, because she used to be a member of the Royal family. She still is, in what blood consists of when pumping against her arteries and keeping her alive, but she no longer holds that sense of pride on it. It’s been months since she has last seen her sister, not because she doesn’t want to, but because she needs to heal. Become the woman that would be powerful enough to eat the world alive, contrary to her brittle self.

Signing herself for a university interview feels odd. It’s been a while since she has been out in the world, and perhaps, she doesn’t miss it as much as she makes herself believe. She had put herself out there too many times before, fired by the bullets that ripped straight to her heart and made her recoil to herself. What are the odds of everything going alright if she tries again?

When she looks down the window, she sees two figures that she misses deeply. Her sister, whose hair is longer, sporting an all-black outfit that makes her look both professional and youthful, lips tainted a deep red. Minghao, by her side, is speaking to her as she rushes towards the entrance, holding an envelope on her hands that she can only imagine is something for her Mother. Nonetheless, Minghao is left behind, enough for her to inspect him from afar.

Minghao’s hair is much longer than remembered, a green shirt under a gray suit that somehow looks great sported by him. From a distance, she can see him inspecting around, from the gardens to the entrance, to the people bustling around before looking up. His eyes connect directly to hers, the first person on the passing days turned months of her solitude, on lockdown.

Had his lips always looked like petals of roses? She questions herself, watching him purse his lips as he lifts his hand to wave at her softly. Glasses cover his eyes for the most part, tainted thanks to petrichor, but he sees her. Knows exactly where to get her, texts ignored by her as a way to put the pieces of her heart together and he waited.

She doesn’t wave back, instead resting her hand against the window, tapping her fingers against the surface as if she was able to touch him. Minghao had always made her feel better, no different in the way a smile sneaks up on her features and sits there to stay.

The man mouths, pointing at the place he is standing by: “Want to come down?” She reads, concentrating on the flower on his lips, the noir poem of his existence that somehow has turned dulcet.

Though, she is not ready, shaking her head in hopes of slowing down the process of Minghao getting too close to her. She still needs time. “Not today.” She says, lips parted enough for him to understand every word before he nods.

“Some other time?” He breathes out, only understood by her when he repeats it again and without the hint of doubt, she replies:

“Definitely.”

With that, Minghao sighs deeply, a cloud of smoke gathering by his nose before giving a few steps forward, opening the weighty doors of the castle and closing them behind him. Her heart is racing by the time she looks at the empty spot he left behind, suddenly much brighter than the gloomy day.

###

Minghao knows where she is, and he makes it known.

Somehow, studying feels even worse when there is pressure on her shoulders—trying to get into university like a normal student, not like the Duchess she used to be. With her back hunched, she sits on her bed, readying herself for the moment three weeks from now when she’ll have to face the world again, and not only that, get judged by it again, but for something else, her intelligence, perhaps.

Breathing the answers into the air about this certain question, she stops when she realizes she has forgotten someone’s name. It passes her enough to have her closing her eyes tightly, cursing herself for not being able to remember. She used to be so good at this, but it seems like she has lost some of the talent she had, or the confidence that had once been within her when it came to history.

Two taps at her window make her lift her gaze, heart shaking in fear of what it could be. Birds passing by, perhaps, her room is high enough in this castle for it not to be reached by anyone, but the persistent sound follows her even minutes later, something thrown at her window before leaving her in silence, repeating the action only seconds after. It’s only after the fourth time the noise comes by that she stands up, anger raking through her when she goes to the window.

Opening the window, she looks around, lowering her weight the slightest to be able to inspect the sides. Left, nothing. Right, nothing. The castle looks the same as it did earlier, birds gone to other portions of the garden, but just as she’s about to push herself back inside her room, she hears her name being called, a tone not dulcet enough, but somehow warm in the way he speaks.

When she looks down, she is not surprised to see Minghao. Well, part of her really is—whenever he has the time, he makes himself be known, reminding her that he is there for her. Notes left under her door, that she reads when she gets the time. Books that he places outside of her door, never once knocking, but mouthing to her from the window to check the outsides of her room. It has been like this for days, perhaps even weeks, she has lost the passage of time when it comes to him.

She leans her weight against the windowsill, quirking an eyebrow at him. “What were you throwing at my window, Minghao?” She asks, not a single tone of annoyance in her voice anymore, and Minghao takes this moment to cross his arms behind his back, the yellow sweater on his body highlighted because of this. Yellow has always been her favorite color.

“Pebbles.”

“You could’ve broken my window, then.”

“If that’s what it takes to get you out of there, I will.” Minghao shrugs his shoulders, always too honest for his own good, and that’s what she adores the most about him. He pushes one of his legs forward and back, a dance of nervousness that only goes past his lips when he decides to let it go. “It’s been months. I want to see you.”

But she doesn’t feel quite ready. What if he suddenly realizes that she has played with time for far too long, that each step she takes she doubts, that right now, she doesn’t know where she starts or ends, or if she even started at all? “I’m isolating myself until I get my mind together—”

“I understand that, but—” Minghao lifts his hand to cloud the sun that basks on his face, making him glow. He has always had that with him, that’s for sure. “I could help you if you’d just let me.”

She chuckles at that, interlocking her fingers as she speaks to him. “Why?”

Minghao doesn’t hesitate, and that’s something to envy. Hardships of her life, all the pain and tears, suddenly seem to be left in the past when he smiles softly at her, like he does, never quite showing his teeth and yet, saying everything she needs to hear. “Because I miss you.” He tells her, loud enough for the people around them to hear, or perhaps, no one cares about them. It’s better if they don’t.

“I miss you, too.” She breathes out, wanting nothing more than for it to be heard. She misses one of her closest friends, her sister’s best friend, her confidante. Over everything, she mixes Xu Minghao. “…We’ll see each other someday, I promise.”

“Someday soon?”

“Sooner than you think.” She tells him, lowering her gaze to avoid his penetrating gaze. “I’ll text you…ah, we can text and sort something out.”

“I’m okay with that.” Minghao says, though, when she looks at him again, he is looking down at his watch. “I have a meeting right now, so I have to go. Check outside your bedroom, okay?”

Patience follows after him as he moves away from the castle, but she isn’t quite as patient anymore. Scrambling to close the window, she walks over to the door, opening it in one swift motion, being met by one of the workers in the castle, holding up a tray filled with her favorite food, two red apples reminiscent of him, and of course, a note from him.

“Until we meet again – Xu Minghao.”

She can’t wait.

###

Never was it her virtue to wait for the right time, the perfect moment. This time around, it isn’t any different. Instead of waiting for the day of her university interview, she texts Minghao much sooner—asking him how his day went, thanking him for all the pleasantries, gratefulness above all, and when he answers, there is nothing that stops the conversation.

It was only a matter of time until she decided to meet him again, and when he said he planned on having a picnic meeting with her—not a date, mind her—she thought it was perfect. With the moonshine draping against the curtains of the castle’s living room, the world in silence as it’s well over dinnertime, she tugs at the fabric of her dress. It has been a while since she has worn one of those, even when she hated them to bits, but this one makes her feel at ease. One that Hana made for her when visiting her sisters, the time away giving her inspiration for her favorite Duchess. Short, yet flowy, in a daylight sky blue that has her feeling a bit too bright for the night.

Everything on her is much cheaper than what she was set to wear as Duchess, but the movement of her feet is more lightweight the more she reaches the door. Minghao had said he was waiting for her outside, but each step falls harsher than the last. Not only will she meet with Minghao, who has very much grown onto himself as a person, physically and mentally, but it is the first time she will be out of the castle in months.

Maybe, she should stop.

Shame is an emotion she tries not to feel, but her life has been set, plotted, written and read according to what other people said. With her hand connecting to the doorknob of the entrance door, a few guards sparing her glances before looking away, she wonders what people would say. The Duchess is out again. The ex-Duchess. The one that left Prince Joshua for a supposed cheating scandal. Maybe, too old to study in judging eyes, or too privileged to do so.

It almost makes her stay, but she tugs at the door before she could even think in any other way.

There, in the usual spot that gives her a clear view of him from the window, is Xu Minghao. A businessman by now, owner of very big companies, an heir that knew how to divide his life perfectly. With his back turned towards her, he only notices her when the door closes, the moon making perfect shadows on his face. Maturity had taken over his features, his hair falling down his forehead, and surprisingly, a full smile appears on his face when she nears him, arms taking a mind of their own to wrap around Minghao’s slim frame.

Never had a hug felt this good, as if she belongs in these arms—unjudged, unashamed, without a hardship in this violin tune of line that only dizzies her. Minghao doesn’t waste much time to wrap his arms around her body, hiding his face on the juncture of her neck before breathing in deeply. His eyelashes flutter against her skin, as if taking all of her in, the tickling sensation nicely welcomed when she tugs at the fabric of his white sweater, tucked inside a pair of stylish, painted jeans, with figures that she hasn’t quite detailed.

“I’m so happy you’re back.” He breathes out, taking her face in between his hands when pulling away and, as always, his thumb rubs against her cheek, pinching it soon after when he lets go.

“I never left.” The confession weights with guilt on her chest, because she did. Months of not talking to him just for the sake of healing, when he could’ve been there by her side while she did so. “…So, picnic time?”

“Yes.” Minghao replies, extending his arm for her to take before walking side to side, the fabric of his sweater rubbing against her bare forearm. “Read the books I gave you?”

“All of them.”

“What did you think about—?”

Lips pushed together to keep himself silent, Minghao is not a man of many words—not until he is interested, and what a surprise it is that not a single moment in that lake, as they gave bites of each other’s foods, he seemed to stop himself from talking. It’s at that moment that she realizes she is necessary for some people in this life, and likewise with him, or rather, not necessary…wanted, desired, wished to be there.

There’s no better feeling.

###

Water always makes her feel better. In all forms and shapes. Knowing there is something deeper than what she feels, something stronger than her and yet, feeling so weak against her fingertips, gives her the force to know she has been through worse than waiting for the response of a university. Though, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t spend most of her time helping the maids around the castle, trying to find something to do that distracts her before she goes absolutely crazy.

Hana has always been a bit strict when it came to certain fabrics, and only now she realizes how difficult it is to wash a gown by hand, much more her Mother’s, that seems to be never-ending as four people, including her, try to get it washed. She knows Mother won’t use it again, but she doesn’t have the heart to remind that to the groups of people working for her. It would only make them feel worse, and she’s there to feel better.

The laundry machine roars behind them, though she pays more attention to the faint sound of music playing in the background. Water drips down her hands when she rubs the fabric against itself, trying to get rid of any stain or smell, though there is a party in between the staff. Candles lit up, cake sliced, a song too upbeat for her danced by her workers. Some are buzzed, even in this early moment of the day, for it’s the ex-Duchess’ birthday.

Her birthday and it doesn’t quite feel like it.

In the past, she liked her birthday, but today, she feels nostalgic. Only getting older, but not getting anywhere—well, she’s in the process, but it feels like her growth will last forever, and she’s too impatient to wait for it. Smelling like smoke, detergent and soap, she thanks the few people that gave her such pleasantries, that congratulated her as if they were part of her family, because they are. Careless, she isn’t, and even though the smile on her face is weakened, it means well.

One day, she’s going to hold onto every birthday as if it’s the last—one never knows, but somehow, today, celebrating is not in her vocabulary. It hasn’t been in a while.

“I think someone is looking for you.” Hana says, already reaching for her hands with a towel to wipe them away from the soap and water. She widens her eyes, unaware of why Hana is so rushed to get her out of the laundry room and towards the living room. “Oh my, darling, why are you this untidy?”

“I was doing laundry, Hana, that’s why.” She replies, looking down at her black tank top and leggings, not looking like how she used to be on a normal day, always prepared for an event. “Why? I get to be comfortable on my birthday—”

Hana stops her as they are reaching the living room, turning around to release her hair from its confines on a ponytail, tugging her shirt down to show more of her cleavage and using that towel to wipe all the droplets of water from her body. “Because you will want to look good for this visitor.”

She scoffs. “I don’t want to look good for anyone other than myself.”

Hana stops rubbing at her skin then, lifting her hands in surrender before looking at her pointedly. “Okay, look like a mess, but when you do regret looking like one in front of this visitor, I am going to say that I told you so.”

“If that happens, have my heart.” Her hand extends on top of the left portion of her ribcage, moving forward with her slippers sliding against the tiles, resounding obnoxiously as she reaches the main area by the entrance. Spacious enough to be considered a house of its own, but the closer she gets, the more noticeable the person by the door becomes.

She stumbles back slightly, though the smile on her face is more taken aback than angry. Minghao stands there, a bouquet of sunflowers in between his hands and a small black bag holding tightly onto his fingers, turned white under the pressure of his gift. With a deep green turtleneck, a leather jacket and a pair of ripped, oversized, light-washed jeans, he looks more like the birthday person than she does.

“Minghao? What are you doing here?” She asks, once again retreating at the sound of her slippers. Fuck, once they’re wet, they sound like they’re smacking against the floor far more than usual. Still, she keeps walking forward, Minghao giving her a once-over that goes unnoticed, mostly. “Not that you’re not welcome, but you said you had a meeting with your PR team.”

“I did, but now I’m here.” Minghao finalizes, giving the bouquet of sunflowers to her before she looks down at it. One note reads her name, written in his expert handwriting, a brief ‘happy birthday’ wit a heart making her feel more at ease than ever. Who cares if she looks a little bit unprepared? “Happy birthday.” He says, one arm wrapping around her shoulder to rest his cheek against her head. She chuckles at that, enveloping her arm around his taut waist to take the warmth of him, the hug sideways and yet, meaningful.

“Thank you. It hasn’t been exactly the happiest, but it hasn’t been sad either.” She conquers, pulling away from him before pointing to the kitchen. “Want me to serve you some coffee?”

“Do you have tea?”

“I do.”

“Let’s have tea while we wait for the cake I ordered for you.” Minghao replies, going after her towards the kitchen. Though her grin is perceptible, she can’t help but groan.

“Goodbye to my night of sleep with the amount of sugar I’ve eaten today, and it’s not even night.” She says, going over to the shelves to look through her repertoire of tea. “Black?”

“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’, the chair creaking under his weight when he splays his gift on the island, unable to stand straight. “But, before you start, I brought you something—”

She stops then, moving towards him before taking the black bag in between her hands. Gifts are not something she enjoys regularly, much more because she was bathed in them instead of being given sentimentalism, but from Minghao, she finds it hard to deny that she is head over heels with the idea of him giving her something.

“Thank you.” She says, opening the bag as she speaks. “It must be heavy; your fingers are all red.” Though, her words come to a halt when she gets a canvas out of the bag, the plastic falling on the floor when she inspects it in front of her line of vision. Blue merges into a moonlit sky, railings of a balcony crooked yet enigmatic, strokes made from his heart and soul, a pool underneath, the doors open ajar. She knows this place.

Minghao explains it for her when she can’t find words to say, reminiscent of the first time they met. He was, what, eighteen or nineteen then? “That’s the place in which we met,” Minghao whispers, pointing at the canvas. “Well, where you met me. I always saw you around the castle, but you never paid much attention.”

How could she not? She will always blame herself for not getting to know Minghao sooner. Still, she lifts her gaze, unable to voice out what she truly feels. Adoration. “Why didn’t you just try to talk to me?”

He shrugs, pulling the sleeves of his jacket down before taking it off, draping it on the island in the process. “Way back then, I thought you’d never connect with me. We wouldn’t be, well, good friends or anything, in my head.” Minghao tries to come out with proper answers, crossing one leg over the other. “I am glad I woke up that night.”

“Because you met me?”

“That,” Minghao says, resting his hand on his palm, his index and middle finger parting on his cheek. “And that you noticed me.”

“You painted this?” She asks, only to receive a nod from him. Looking at it once again, she can’t believe he remembers the balcony of his cousin’s house that perfectly. He moved away from there years ago, after all. “Minghao, I am the lucky one for getting to know you, not the other way around.”

“Ah, perception. Another thing of life that is relative.”

“…There you go.” She chuckles, knowing fully well that said words belong to Minghao. Always thinking ahead of what is in front of him, so realistic that it almost becomes complex to understand. She puts the canvas down on the island, taking the time to wrap her arms around his shoulders and rest her chin on his shoulder. His hands hesitate to rest on her waist, getting closer and closer until he engulfed her completely. “I’ll put it up in my room. Thank you.”

The tea that brews later will never be as warm as his presence, as his smile, the way he seems to remember things about her that she even forgot telling him. Xu Minghao is not only a realist, but the only reality that she is happy of living.

###

While she had never noticed just how loved Minghao was around not only businesspeople, but with normal individuals as well, it seemed like the world had put him on a pedestal. A deserved one, at that. Earning himself the opportunity of a documentary for his strenuous, gorgeously planned work in the business industry as one of the richest heirs in the entire continent. Not that she was told beforehand, but when Minghao texted her to join him while he recorded around the land, she took her textbook and followed after Minghao’s staff for the rest of the day.

The sun beams down on him, in the middle of the bustling city with the cameraman, Jeon Wonwoo, on one knee as he tries to get a good shot, the rest of the team working with the lights, with the microphone, making sure that everything Minghao wears is still on place. The high-waisted striped pants and the button down a standard for fashion just by looking at it, yet so incredibly creative that she finds her breath stolen the moment she saw him earlier. Never had she been able to look at Minghao this closely, or this sentimentally, when he raises his head and answers one of the questions one of Wonwoo’s team has as he walks, showing the land that had welcomed his business after he moved in here.

Small as a land, but productive for him as a businessman.

This time around, Minghao doesn’t have a camera hanging from his neck and she has long forgotten the textbook that rests in between her arm and her ribcage, walking behind the team to hear Minghao’s answers, must of them have been simplistic enough, something for him to showcase how it was to move in here, how he grew internationally, what he wants for his future and what he imagined in the past. All equaling to something Minghao could respond easily, his own photographer taking pictures of him from afar for the previews of the documentary.

He props his sunglasses down on the bridge of his nose, quirking an eyebrow when Wonwoo, instead of one of his team, is the one to ask him a question: “What is the most important lesson you have learned in your life?”

Minghao giggles a bit to himself, as if a million thoughts crossed his head and he couldn’t pick one. When that smile settles on his face, she details him. Rosy lips and brown eyes that capture her when the apples of his cheeks become prominent and he answers: “Be patient. Work hard for what you want. What is meant to be for you, will come to you even if it’s the last day of your life.”

The way he looks over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling behind those expensive yet flimsy pink sunglasses, tells her a million things and none at all. Not that she minds it, this uncertainty doesn’t dull in insecurity, but rather blinks with curiousness. Her heart, against her ribcage, begs for an answer…but maybe, in another life, she’d let that one voice inside of her speak with confidence. This time around, she knows better than to ponder, than to hang onto that smile that makes her feel a thousand things all at the same time. For once, she doesn’t think Minghao as a friend that she wishes to keep by her side, but she sees him as something else. Attractive, for once, a pull so strong that she finds herself stopping when he looks ahead once again, taking the questions like a champion.

Bullshit.

This is absolute bullshit.

She’s not this kind of fool, but why is it that she now realizes that Minghao has one of the best eyes she has ever seen and that, when with him, this feeling of attraction doesn’t make her feel disgusted? It doesn’t make her feel brittle or insecure, but the experience tells her not to give that step forward.

She doesn’t like Minghao. It can’t be.

She’s not able to like anyone after what happened to her.

Whatever this is, it isn’t what she is thinking. What’s the use of falling if it’s not going to be real? Minghao was just looking over his shoulder, there is no way he would have waited for her—

Love never waits. People never wait. They’d rather have someone than not have anyone at all.

Besides, it’s not like Minghao is not a handsome man. There is no way that his heart kept with only one person for this long.

Yeah, she’s just assuming, and assuming is never good. Minghao has his heart well reserved, given to someone that she doesn’t know, and she can’t feel that way for someone who has treated her so fairly, such like a friend. She doesn’t need another reason for a headache, not when her life is sorted out or halfway there. Love is a waste of time, just a touch of lips, souls and bodies that brings to nothing at all. A game that no one wins.

With that in mind, she keeps walking, listening to Minghao and feeling each portion of her heart ripple with electricity. He’s a charming man, she’s not the only person that sees it, and definitely she isn’t thinking of him in any other way that isn’t as friends.

###

The first test in university is always the worst. Just seeing her classmates’ grades has her throat getting dry, seeing all the people who have failed—and those who have barely passed is just enough of a headache to have her closing the laptop momentarily, only to have the person beside her sighing deeply, taking a seat next to her on her bed to open the laptop again, pressing on the spacebar with rapidness as he wraps one arm around her.

Minghao is not her leverage—she has learned never to lean on someone, but what a blessing it is to feel him next to her when she is at her worst. Woken up at night because of the worries for this one text, he’d always reply to her midnight worries, albeit a bit annoyed at times, but caging it in because it’s her. She’ll never understand how he does it, being this nice and not asking for anything in return.

“Come on, whatever the grade is, it’s not a definition of who you are.” Minghao says, pressing his index finger to her adjacent temple, looking for her name through the masses of people in the picture. “Besides, what you learned will stay here and that’s what will keep on with you. No matter how many people did better or worse than you, you still learned, and that’s the important part.”

She lays her head on his chest, the fabric of his simple shirt rubbing against her cheek when she breathes out through her nose. “Yeah, but I studied so hard.”

“That’s what matters.” Minghao says, leaning his weight forward before pointing towards the laptop screen. “Besides, you’re the best grade in your class.”

The sound of those words shadow everything that has gone wrong in her life, light like him, in the way he says it so plainly but means the world to her. She lifts her gaze then, tears that she planned to drop gone in a second when she takes his face in between her hands, her head still pressed to his chest when she pulls his face down to look straight into his eyes, showing a lot of her teeth in a smile that plasters her happiness into the air. “Minghao, are you kidding me?!”

“I would never.” Minghao smiles back, looking down at her lips before returning his gaze to her eyes, clouds of pink rain scattering across the apples of his cheeks and if she is not mistaken, the lullaby in the ballad of Minghao’s heart turns into an upbeat tune. Something that she would hear in a club or in a party, rushed beyond her understanding, making her raise her eyebrows when she lets go of her face and his face stops flushing.

“Your heart is racing.” She says, awfully aloof in her deliver and Minghao can only let out one of his nervous giggles, nodding in the process.

“I am usually good at controlling my heartbeat.” He confesses, one of his hands resting on her shoulder, rubbing circles there yet not moving her from her spot. “But I am not doing so great today.”

“Why do you have to control your heartbeat?”

“…Well,” Once again, he smiles, this time around pulling himself away from her to take one of the cushions on her bed, playing with the fabric, fisting it in between his hands. “I normally have to do it around you.”

Does Minghao have to control his heartbeat around her? Why would his heart race on the first place?

At the mention of such words, she opts not to take the answer out of him. If Minghao said what was possible that existed between them, she wouldn’t know how to act. Her gut tells her to step forward and place his hand on her chest, show him that it has been weeks since her heart has started to go crazy for him. Instead, she goes for the easier route, the one that isn’t accompanied by heartbreak.

“Either way.” Minghao finishes, pushing his weight off her bed before clapping his hands together. “Now that we know you’re a genius, we should go and grab something to eat, don’t you think?”

Is that something else falling from his eyes? That glint that she has always talked about, always gushed about internally, perhaps it could mean something…just like it could mean nothing at all. Who knows? She doesn’t answer.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

###

Three months pass and her heart doesn’t want to shut up. It dances to its will whenever it sees Minghao, just like it does now that he is seated across from her in the sofa of her new mansion. His hands extend on each side of his body, inspecting the place with certainty, with the eye of a critic because he was the one that helped her the most with the decorations. All props should go to him.

Hana has her own room, locked away and excited to be able to start anew and not have to work for anyone in the process. Not that Mother was too pleased about her decision, but she could not bring herself to care, not when Minghao nods to himself and hums in the process, a big smile taking over his face.

“It’s perfect for you.”

The rows of bookshelves, the vintage atmosphere, the delicacy that meets both feminine tones and real masculine ones, they all come together with pinches of yellow, her favorite color. Minghao doesn’t notice it, the way she isn’t even inspecting the mansion but looking at him instead, taking the seat beside him and placing her arm over his abdomen, taut and contracting thanks to the action.

“And it’s all thanks to you.”

“No, no. I helped you decorate,” Minghao corrects, turning to look at her before sighing. “This was all your doing. You bought the mansion. You planned what you wanted. This is years-worth of dreaming given to you by yourself.”

Always finding the perfect words, Minghao manages to engrave himself inside her head. Not that he has ever left, the cause of her dreaming, also the cause of her absolute denial. It’s in the fact that she fears getting hurt that keeps her away, that ignores the way his eyes trail down to her lips from time to time, how he stops himself each time is beyond her. Maybe, he senses more than what she actually realizes, and it’s at this point that she notices that Minghao won’t ever talk, do anything, even remotely speak about what he may feel about her if she doesn’t get it out of him.

She has known him for years, and never had she felt this…lukewarm. She used to think that love was meant to be feral, rip at her, bite at her heart, make her feel heartbroken but in love at the same time. It’s what she saw, it’s what she believed in. However, with Minghao everything has always been different. She doesn’t hate herself in the process of liking him, neither does she think of herself as less when being around him. All the kisses she has given in the past seem to be forgotten when she tries to think of giving him a kiss.

If she has to die, she wants her last kiss to be with Xu Minghao. Those petal-like lips engulfing hers to give her hope of knowing that whatever life she got to live, she made the best out of it.

Which is why, for the first time, without thinking and with an intake of breath, she whispers out the words that she had not even internalized. Certainty clouds her, it’s so full of confidence even in its mumble, that she finds herself surprised by what she feels, the way her eyes want to concentrate on everything about him.

“I like you, Minghao.”

She is a woman of words. It’s what she has read, what she has expected for her. Big confessions, grand apologies, bunch of excuses and lies, people that kiss up to her even if they don’t mean it. Minghao loves the silence of patience, waits for the right moment to let those words fall down on him like rain, his features softening, the slightest bit of surprise passing his wide eyes before he leans forward, just a breath away from her, but he stops.

He stops because he knows she likes words, and they both compromise silently at that moment.

“I’ve liked you for a long time.” He tells her, lowering his weight slightly until their lips are centimeters away from each other. “Can I kiss you?”

With a nod of her head, she realizes the difference between the kiss of love and the kiss of desire is huge. Not a lot of pressure, he seems to melt against her, softly parting his lips to relish on the sentiment more than the quickness of it all. Minghao splays his hand on her waist, bringing her closer when he uses his other hand to touch her cheek. A rub of his thumb against the skin, and a soft whisper of her name against her lips once the contact is finished.

It doesn’t take a lot of words to know then Xu Minghao loves her, and after all this time, she may say one thing…

She hates a lot of things, but she will never hate him.

#the8 scenarios #minghao scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #minghao #the8 #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #minghao au #minghao fluff #minghao angst #heir!au #duchess!au #there we go one of my best tries at modern royal!au lol

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bellamioneotp · 4 years

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Bellamione Fic Master List

Making a list of Bellamione fics to guide the poor innocent souls into temptation organize stories based on AU type.

DARK AU’s

Bellatrix isn’t a bright ball of sunshine, but rather than have a story where she becomes a better person, Hermione becomes like her, or even joins her side. This AU type isn’t limited to only that, but also to general dark themes in the story such as violence, war and ‘wtf this is so wrong but yet I can’t stop reading’.

Reign Down Like wow. A whole world built around what if Voldemort survived and used Hermione in his evil schemes and had Bellatrix engaged to her. Very detailed and the author doesn’t hold back on aspects of the new world that can be somewhat unsettling. 25/10 this will leave you wondering just how sexy dark magic can truly feel.

The Dark Corners of the Earth This one is dark in an entirely different sense. Bellatrix and Snape are pitted in an ancient war against one another and Hermione is caught in the middle. The romance moves a bit too fast paced for me but the lore and detail in this will have you really thinking this story over the next few days, trying to figure out just wtf is going on. 45/10 will have you hoping your nightlight can keep Cthulhu away.

Haunted This story won’t leave you haunted, but it is pretty good even with it’s short chapters and all. It tells the story of Hermione sort of losing her marbles but I won’t get into too much detail. Just read it for yourself; it’s a quick easy read. 10/10 is poetic as fuck.

I Dream of Sin Takes place in a sort of canon world in which Hermione is an American teen being bullied. You can imagine how well that goes for the bullies especially when she learns she has magic and is taught by Bellatrix herself on how to use it. It gets progressively darker each chapter. 16/10 don’t want to mess with magical nerds ever.

For whom the Bell Tolls is an interesting look into how Hermione’s actually a death eater and Bellatrix is not. While Hermione is not bat shit insane, she is a murderer and Bellatrix is the sane one. Nice to see things switched up. This story is not necessarily as dark as the others but it gets brownie points for making the usually good Hermione evil right off the bat. 9/10 come to the dark side, we have cookies.

Staring at Nothing is just...wow. A very powerful one shot about Hermione’s descent into darkness as told by Harry’s perspective. 10/10 for who needs friends anyways, when you’ve got black leather.

Visions of You in which Hermione is a depressed youth after the war and has to deal with hallucinations of Bellatrix. Hermione isn’t dark here so much as she is gray type, and the story has a permeating tinge of sadness to it, given the circumstances. 8/10 for maybe Bellatrix isn’t a hallucination?

Deep Below what’s more awful than being accused of Harry’s death? Being falsely accused of it, and having to deal with trying to prove your innocent. This is a situation Hermione ends up in. But will she get out of it? 8/10 for this gets deep.

How to Love Bellatrix captures Hermione and sort of indoctrinates her into the world of darkness. Hermione is mad at first, but then she realizes how sexy Bellatrix is and is like, ‘alright fam, sign me up’ and boom Bellamione. 8/10 you love this story but not it’s update schedule.

TIME TRAVELER AU’s

Basically, what it says on the tin. Someway or another, Hermione goes back into time to stop Bellatrix from ever becoming evil. Drama and romance ensue.

Future Shocks A good time turner fic with a more modern take on war. It’s pretty long and it is the slowburn of all slowburns. But it’s a very interesting story and the ending will have you definitely shook. 8/10 will shock you awake from that boring lecture you’re reading fanfic in.

Time Heals all Wounds Hermione gets sent back in time to ‘redeem’ Bellatrix but not in the gift card way, more like saving the future type way. They end up, you guessed it, falling in love and changing the future somewhat. 6/10 is a young teen romance that will have you reliving your adventures as a young sapphic witch.

Mirror, Mirror Not exactly a time turner fic, more like a parallel world, I suppose. Hard to explain but has good amounts of mystery and trying to understand what is happening. Focuses more on Bellatrix’s POV which is a nice change of pace. 8/10 will have you looking in the mirror and summoning Bellatrix like she was Bloody Mary.

Let the Light Come and Take me A time turner fic that ends up with Bellatrix time traveling but to the future and the chaos her arrival there causes for those who are acquainted with her devious ways. Looks at the growth of our two ladies relationship into something more. 5/10 if it’s not slowburn romance is it really Bellamione?

The One Within the Other this story is about, you guessed it, time travel! Hermione goes back on purpose to stop Bellatrix from achieving her evil potential and in the process love blossoms. 7/10 for never enough time to read Bellamione in peace!

Caught in the Time series this is a series of three full length stories about Bellamione stuck in different times and universes. So much happens in them it’s kind of hard to summarize so the best thing to do is read them. 8, 8.5, 7/10 I’ll let you figure out which score goes for which series.

Just say When started off as a time turner story but then it ended up becoming something more of an espionage tale. It’s a good read and interesting to see how Bellatrix aims to save Hermione from a dementor’s kiss (spoilers!) in order to save their future together. A good mix of romance and action. 8/10 The name’s Black. Bellatrix, Black.

The Broken Wand It all starts with a wand and then before you know it, boom, time travel happens. Featuring Loki and adventure all around, this fic has interesting plot points to keep you engaged despite the slower update times. 7/10, will break your wand too.

Hourglass basically, a young Bellatrix is brought into the future and consequences abound from that mishap. The plot is a bit wonky and there are some logic mistakes, but if you can get over it, it’s a decent time travel story. 5/10 for it must be canon that Bellatrix has a lovely hourglass figure.

Times they are a Changing where Bellatrix travels back in time to save her wife, Hermione. Nice to see a story where Hermione isn’t the one doing all the saving. Unfortunately there’s only six chapters to this story and it’s unlikely it’ll ever get finished but it’s a nice fresh concept. 6/10 for that’s how many chapters there are.

Destined in this one, Hermione experiences some wonky times after the battle at the department of mysteries. Hermione has to find a way back home, but perhaps she might find love along the way? 10/10 for this is destined to be an interesting read.

HEALER AU’s

Let’s be real, Bellatrix has got a lot of problems and these authors try to solve them, with sex. And you know, medical help. But sex definitely helps a lot.

Portrait of a Tragic Woman Not a typical healer type au, because Hermione is a therapist whose helping Bellatrix with her mental disorders. Focuses a lot on the relationship between the two and really makes you try to figure out what exactly is up with Bellatrix and what is her past, etc. The ending chapters will leave you shooketh and wondering what even is real anymore. 50/10 because it feels like an acid trip, man.

The Healer is only one chapter but still worth a read. Hopefully the author will have some time to get back to it because it has a huge potential. 6/10 because I need some healing.

1k is a one shot, featuring Hermione as a therapist and Bellatrix as her patient. Can’t say too much without spoiling it, but despite it’s short length, the author paints a vivid look into Bellatrix’s mind if she was just an insane muggle. 1k/10 because that’s one patient I would never like to meet.

Darkness Underneath I mean, Hermione runs a team of healers, so technically it’s kinda a healer au fic, right? This story looks more in depth at the Death Eaters and dark magic surrounding them. 9/10 is that a dark mark or are you just happy to see me?

TEACHER AU

We all know this is the holy grail au of this fandom and yet there’s only a couple of long stories for this. Someone, write some more!

Fractures A long fic, that has a sequel. Basically, Bellatrix is Hermione’s teacher during a very trying time for Hermione when a competition goes very wrong and dark truths are revealed. Lot’s of action, Bellamione interactions, and overall interesting plot. 8/10 will leave your heart in fractures when you find out the sequel is unfinished.

In the Dead of Night Hermione asks Bellatrix if she can teach her some.....magic and things end up becoming very magical indeed. Bellatrix is the teacher in this story (because who wouldn’t want her as a teacher). It’s a WIP with only a couple of chapters out. 7/10 time to learn some real lessons, Granger ;)

Just a Brand features not only Bellatrix as a professor, but a magical soul mate bond between Bellatrix and Hermione that leads to much deliciousness. There’s a lot of chapters to this story but they’re pretty short. An updated and revised version can be found on a03 for those who like longer chapters. 7/10 Bellamione is branded on my soul.

It Just Felt Right is another fic with Bellatrix as the professor. Hermione starts off hating her and then it evolves into liking Bellatrix. The fic leaves off before any real progress can be made so if anyone is up for reading an unfinished fic from 2012 then go for it. 6/10 for this story feels right but not write because it’s abandoned :(

CRIME AU

Because there is never enough crime involved even with Bellatrix, these authors amp up the trouble and make it double. And gay. So very gay.

Two Sides of the Same Coin where Bellatrix is basically an auror. It’s only five chapters and it hasn’t been updated in a long time but it’s an interesting concept worth checking out. 9/10 wish there were more sides to the coin.

Murder Most Horrid A crime story, where Bellatrix is a magical cop and Hermione is a murder suspect. Bellatrix interrogates Hermione by banging her and then the two of them proceed to basically get married the day after. A bit ooc for Bellatrix but very in character if you consider this world not from the canon. -89/10 for how badly your vision will deteriorate if you try to read this all in one night.

The Mysterious Department Technically Bellatrix and Hermione are both magical detectives and they go and solve crimes and shit while also possibly trying to prevent the world from ending. You know, just casual stuff. 10/10 for the perfect crime, would commit again.

Darkness is Falling A story that has Hermione as an auror who replaces Bellatrix’s old partner. They butt heads, they solve cases, and naturally, begin to fall in love. 7/10 for this case is closed.

Some Things Aren’t Seen Hermione investigates Bellatrix’s crimes and past and ends up over her head. There are two follow ups to this finished work, all in the same vein. It’s all a good bit of fun watching Hermione try to take on the criminal Lestrange. 7/10, no, this has no relation to the musical Wicked.

SOUL MATE BOND

In one way or another Bellatrix and Hermione have a special bond in between them that destines them to be together. Angst, love, friendship, all abound in this au type. Features a combination of other factors thrown in, but the stories put in here are largely advertised in the blurb as more focused on the bond.

Lotus Flower Hermione finds out after Bellatrix’s death that they are bound together and that because Bellatrix is dead, Hermione is dying as a result too. This begs the question, will Hermione go back in time and save Bellatrix, or will she willingly submit to the bond’s curse? 8/10 I think we all know what Hermione chooses.

Our Mercurial Selves ever wonder what it would be like to have a murderer share your mind? In this one, Hermione and Bellatrix can communicate telepathically with each other, creating a bond that draws them together. Features evil schemes by Voldemort, a flying horse, and Narcissa beating the ever loving shit out of Bellatrix for even daring to breathe in Hermione’s direction. 9/10 will leave you with warm fuzzies for the Malfoy family before the ending crushes you.

The House Ring Bellatrix sends Hermione a magical ring that engages them and basically makes them wives. Prophecies abound about how Bellamione is meant to be the one and only true pairing. 7/10 for that ring better come with diamonds.

Demons AU

As if Voldemort isn’t scary enough, there are demons and scary things in this au type that will leave you and Voldemort both calling for mommy.

Unsteady Precipice technically also a time traveling fic, except Hermione ends up in an alternative universe. where she tries to change things from happening in the canon world like they did. But will it work? Who knows! Only a few chapters are out so it’s hard to tell where this story will go, but one things for sure, it’ll be good. 9/10 if you don’t pray after reading this the demons will get you.

A Demon in the Mist is also about, gasp, demons! Dangerous things are afoot in this story and Hermione is caught in the middle of it all. It takes part in the same universe as the caught in time series by the same author, but with slight alterations. Unsure if the story will be finished as the author has contemplated leaving fanfic writing. 7/10 can you find the demon in the mist?

MAGICAL CREATURES AU

Technically a category, right? Let’s pretend it is, because there are some stories out there that pit our two ladies as other than human and it’s fun to read about it.

As we Chase the Sun Very Black family centric and features Bellatrix as a big fluffy wolf. What’s not to love? Cuddles, and hair balls, and good times all around. 9/10 would tame that wolf.

Sing to me Your Insanity in which Hermione and Bellatrix are both sirens and will basically die if they don’t do the ol’ frickity frack. This is a long story and the slowburn feels like hellburn but it’s worth the read. 56/10 but you will need earplugs so those sirens don’t seduce you too.

Metamorphosis in which Bellatrix is also a wolf and doesn’t like being stuck with Hermione but gets used to it and basically they’re house wives of London and don’t know it. 8/10 for your mind with undergo metamorphosis from slightly obsessed with Bellamione to even more obsessed.

This Poisoned Blood of Ours vampires, vampires everywhere! Two parts to this series and features a confused Bellatrix and a changing Hermione. 7/10 do you think vampires like steak rare?

Cursed Doll Pretty self explanatory title. Someone ends up as a doll and shenanigans ensue. Won’t say more because it’s only two chapters, but it’s well written and worth a read. 10/10 Chucky? Is that your sister?

Liquid Measure these chapters are thicc boy. Only two chapters but such a good set up and everything. I hope the author is able to update at some point. 10/10 makes me thirsty for more!

My Demons in the Dark Hermione is a ghost. That’s it, that’s the plot. Boo/10 for this not so spooky spirit.

#Harry Potter #Harry Potter Books #Bellamione #Hermione Granger #Bellatrix Lestrange #emma Watson #Helena Bonham Carter #Bellamione fic recs #Fic recs #all gay stories #vampires #wolves #witches #time turner fics

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akatsuki-shin · 3 years

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Review: 天官赐福 Tiān Guān Cì Fú (Heaven Official's Blessing)

Notes:

(Very) long post ahead

Contains spoiler

This is my personal review and does not represent the entire audience, you are free to agree or not agree with what I’ve written here

Feel free to reply/send me a message if there are things you want to discuss

Summary:

The most beloved Crown Prince, pride of the Kingdom of Xianle with abundance of talents and achievements, Xie Lian, ascended to Heaven and became a martial god at the young age of 17 on the path to fulfill his dream "to save the common people".

Three years after his ascension, he saw his kingdom beginning to decline and in order to save his beloved country, Xie Lian defied the rules of Heaven and descended back to the mortal realm. Nevertheless, instead of saving them, his interference ended up accelerating the fall of Xianle, annihilating the once prosperous nation under the war of rebellion and a mysterious, horrifying plague.

The people who once praised and worshipped him day and night now condemned him, his devotees left him, they burnt his temples and divine statues, and Xie Lian himself was ultimately banished from the Heaven.

He ascended for the second time a short while later, but was banished once more very soon after. Since then, he lived among the mortals - surviving by collecting junks as he was now branded as the "God of Misfortune", the "Scrap Collecting Immortal".

800 years later, Xie Lian ascended again for the third time. Though having neither temples nor devotees, he accepted his responsibility as a martial god and carried on with his duties until one day, there came a certain, incidental encounter with a mysterious youth clad in red.

STORY: 7/10

TGCF overall is an (almost) complete, satisfying read with well-written twists and development.

Unlike the two previous MXTX's novels, the main pairing here (HuaLian) did not have to go through complicated misunderstandings and is a beautiful representation of love and devotion. Of course, this means there is a lack of conflict between them, but considering all the trials and tribulations the characters have gone through, this lack of conflict feels like a relieving fresh spring amidst the painful and exhausting journey throughout the entire five books.

The best and my most favorite plot twist is the Earth Master Ming Yi having been dead for a while, and the "Ming Yi" we know turns out to be the Black Water Submerging Boats, He Xuan. I'm the kind of person who always suspects characters, but even my furthest suspicion was "only" him being the Reverend of Empty Words, not He Xuan.

Truthfully, prior to reading this novel, I've seen Shi Qingxuan's "MING-XIONG, I'M SORRY x9999" post before without context, and I thought Ming Yi was going to die a tragic death because of Shi Qingxuan. Turns out it's kind of the opposite, huh? Nice one, really.

I also like how each character's "end" feels satisfying. Especially for the villains, they didn't necessarily have to die some tragic, vengeful death, but was provided with an ending that perfectly fits their background story and deeds. For example, in most stories, a character like Xuan Ji would be most likely be given some well-deserved punishment as her death, given everything she's done. But no, in the end she was given a reality check and was finally able to let go of her hundreds of years grudge. And then Qi Rong - I will talk more about him later on in the "Character" section.

One part I really love is the Extra Chapter about the Cave of Ten Thousand Gods. The chapter itself overall is mostly nonsensical and chaotic, but it was just so touching when HuaLian created a "Little Hua Cheng" statue to accompany Xie Lian's "Crown Prince who Pleased the Gods" statue, especially when this Little Hua Cheng statue gave Crown Prince Xie Lian statue a flower, and then Crown Prince Xie Lian received it, lifted him up and carried him in his arms. This one was maybe a bit biased because as much as I love the current HuaLian, I have a special soft spot for the young Xie Lian carrying, cradling the little Hua Cheng back then in the past. ;v;

Though, with all due respect, I must say that TGCF is actually below my expectation.

The biggest issue I have with TGCF is... What is Xie Lian's motivation? What drives him to move forward in the story? What is even the whole story's purpose?

I'm not quite sure how to word this properly, but let me give some examples.

When you read Harry Potter, you know immediately that Voldemort is the bad guy and he must be defeated.

When you read the Lord of the Rings, you know immediately that the One Ring must be destroyed to prevent Sauron from regaining his power.

Or, in MXTX previous works...

In SVSSS, it was clear since the beginning that Shen Yuan's mission is to fix the "Proud Immortal Demon Way" if he wants to survive.

In MDZS, it was clear that Wei Wuxian, together with Lan Wangji's, needs to unravel the mystery behind that fierce left arm. All of their past stories and WangXian getting together in the end are just something they discovered along the way, not the initial "motivation" that drives the character to move forward.

What about TGCF? The Xie Lian who ascended for the third time actually looks like he just wants to go along with the flow, carrying out his duties day by day with responsibility. When Bai Wuxiang later, later, later on appeared to haunt him again, it didn't seem like Xie Lian has any ambition to hunt him down or exact a revenge, just that he wanted to forget about Bai Wuxiang and never recall anything about him ever again. The main character looks like he's not being driven by anything, just...carrying on where the plot takes him? It's just missions after missions and whatever huge things happening in between is just something they accidentally passed by along the way.

At this point, the only purpose of the story I can think of is bringing Hua Cheng and Xie Lian together. The romance is great, I have no complain. But if it's just that, no need to jammed-pack 250+ chapters just to make two people getting together?

Speaking of which, I also think that the way new characters keep being introduced all the way to almost the final showdown of the story feels info dump-ish, because the background story needs to be dropped there along with the characters, but then most of these characters fade away immediately after.

For example, the previous Civil God before Ling Wen, who looks like he’s going to pose some real trouble, but then was easily defeated and was never mentioned again afterwards. And this is especially true for He Xuan; after such a huge arc where he committed such extreme things, after that he was barely mentioned again, even having his “strong impression” leveled down by the joke about him being the poorest Calamity and owing lots of debts to Hua Cheng.

Basically what makes TGCF a long story is because there are too many stories about the side characters in addition to the main characters that are dumped out of the blue instead of slowly being revealed along the way.

Though, I love how the story gradually unravels the "Four Famous Tales" because initially, I thought it wasn't something crucial, and I wished they could've done this for other characters, too.

There is a little bit of plot holes here and there, as in who actually cut open Jian Lan/Lan Chang's baby and made it a ghost, and for what? Even if it turned out that she just met a bad guy or nobody important, at least provide an explanation in one paragraph? Especially because important side characters like Feng Xin and Mu Qing are involved here, so I'm pretty sure us readers need some explanation.

And more importantly, how can Jun Wu become the Emperor martial god? There's no mention about him ascending, only that he annihilated a dynasty of gods before sitting on the throne of the Great Martial Hall. But how can he, like, emitted god-like aura and not some evil aura? Is it because he used to be a god? But he's a ghost? Explanation where???

The gags and comedies are pretty fun, but honestly, the more I read, the more they ruin the atmosphere and suspense, added with the uncalled PDA between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian even during the most important moments. Honestly, I was bored the fuck out of my life from the moment they start fighting Jun Wu with those divine gundams, and only start gaining interest again much later on when Hua Cheng dissipated into butterflies.

Not saying the story's bad. Just... It's not up to my expectation... Characters being inserted here and there with a bunch of background story, gags and a show of PDA being flaunted during crucial moments. And when Mei Nianqing started telling the truth about the Kingdom of Wuyong, that's just plain info dump right there, seriously...

CHARACTERS: 7/10

Interesting characters, but only a few bore a lasting impression on me. Other than the main characters, which are Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, the only side characters (minus Bai Wuxiang as the main villain) who left quite some impression on me were probably just Feng Xin and Mu Qing.

Pei Ming is okay, at least he is still memorable until the end, and his character improved, too.

He Xuan, after having been introduced with such extreme, after his arc is over, was easily forgotten just like that.

Mei Nianqing, is borderline Deus Ex-Machina with a huge chunk of info dump that could solve everything, then he stopped being useful for the rest of the story.

Shi Qingxuan... Honestly, he's almost annoying, too noisy. I don’t hate him (and I kind of like him initially), but the way his character was being handled and presented post-Black Water arc feels disappointingly lazy and he was just there to make the party more merry.

Xie Lian himself, as the protagonist, how do I say this... This is maybe due to the translator's writing style (not MXTX’s fault), but whenever he screams in all capslock, it feels too extreme and borderline OOC? Of course, the original novel written in hanzi couldn't have included capslock.

What's great about him, though, is that despite all he'd gone through, he can still retain a pure heart and could not be swayed to be evil, just as he himself said "Body in the abyss, heart in paradise".

Now Hua Cheng, he is overall a super interesting character and I personally love this type of male characters. But he seriously is way too OP, almost like the original Luo Binghe (Bing-ge) a.k.a. too ideal, too perfect, no flaws, always capable of easily finding a way out in every single peril. I only forgive him for being like this because he dissipated into butterflies at the end of the battle with Jun Wu, making me think "oh, finally he's actually not invincible".

Still, his devotion to Xie Lian is very well written, very well presented, and his "I am forever your most devoted believer" is just downright the most powerful line in the whole story.

Now I promised to talk about Qi Rong, yeah? I haven't the slightest idea why it is even necessary to have Qi Rong as the Night-touring Green Lantern. I mean, yes he is there to make up the number of the Four Great Calamities, but that was for the characters who live in that world. As the novel's reader, I don't see any particularly important roles there for Qi Rong other than being an annoying meme fodder despite his actually pretty-cool first foreshadowing and appearance? Even his issue with Lang Qianqiu does not seem to give that much impact on the overall story, it could've just passed simply being explained in several pages.

Though I'd say he's got the best character development compared to others. Instead of dying as some hateful villain, the way he ended up deciding to protect Guzi at the cost of his own life can already be expected from miles away, but still bittersweet and touching nonetheless - how this crazed, mental person could still love when being presented with such pure, innocent feelings to the point that he acknowledged Guzi as a his own son.

By the way, E Ming and Ruoye are cute, I take no criticism.

TECHNICAL ASPECTS: 8/10

I can't really describe this with words, but MXTX's overall writing technique has greatly improved since MDZS.

It feels more "solid" to read instead of scattered here and there.

The info distribution has improved (fewer info dump compared to before), the story's no longer switching between past and present all of a sudden.

Description of characters and environment are sufficient, the plot is progressing steadily.

Several issues I have with this aspect though, the Prologue being ten pages is just way too long, I don't think I need that much information being stuffed right to my face right from the beginning.

There are excessive use of "Turns out..." every single time an explanation is going to come.

"Xie Lian didn't know whether he should cry or laugh" is honestly has been used probably more than 50 times just in the last two books. Although I'm reading a translation, I'm pretty sure the original Chinese version is being repetitive with this phrase, as well, because the translators couldn't just whip up any other phrase from thin air and put it in someone else's novel.

Almost half of scene transition is always caused by some sudden, external disturbance like "All of a sudden they heard someone's coming", "All of a sudden X visits their room", etc.

OVERALL SCORE: 7.3/10

Worth to read, satisfying overall. The main pairing's love story is just so well written and sweet. As long as you can withstand the violence and gore, though. 😂

TGCF highlights perhaps one of the ugliest natures of mankind: Being nice to someone as long as they're beneficial, and immediately throwing them away once the benefit was no more.

Once that person does not seem to be beneficial anymore, everyone would leave them instantly, even turning on them and start spitting on them without even trying to understand the reason why said person "stopped being beneficial".

Both as a Crown Prince and a martial god, Xie Lian and the Crown Prince of Wuyong were praised, revered, worshipped by the citizens of Xianle and Wuyong respectively. Because they were always helping, always fulfilling the people's wishes. But how easily it was for those very same people to turn on Xie Lian and the Crown Prince of Wuyong when they encountered misfortunes, completely turning a blind eye to the laborious effort both characters have been putting to save them from annihilation, even if it was visible in broad daylight.

It is also worth to note another trait of mankind that this story underlines: To always find a scapegoat or blame others for one's own misfortune and failure - be it another human being, another group of people, the government, even the gods - after having taking their generosity for granted.

Which is why I think the true villain of the story is not Bai Wuxiang, but those citizens of the ancient Wuyong who were now nothing more than resentful spirits eternally burning within the lava of Tonglu Mountain - a well deserved punishment after what they did to their Crown Prince.

#Tian Guan Ci Fu #TGCF #Heaven Officials Blessing #HuaLian #Xie Lian #Hua Cheng #Review #Danmei #MXTX #Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

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forestlingincorporated · 3 years

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My thoughts on the Snyder Cut

Overall, Snyder Cut is the more competently made Justice League movie. I watched the theatrical release with my girlfriend - who has never seen MoS or BvS or JL before - before watching the Snyder Cut with her a few days later, so it’s still fairly fresh in my mind.

The Snyder cut is better organized and (despite being 4 hours long) better paced. I really gave ZERO shits about the mother boxes the way they were presented in the theatrical release, but I was engaged with the plot from the start in the Snyder Cut. Scenes were reorganized in a way that were more logical. Fight sequences were paced MUCH better, and kept me interested in what was happening on the screen - my girlfriend and I SKIPPED the last fight sequence in the theatrical release when we watched it because we were BORED; we didn’t get that bored at any point during the Snyder Cut.

Most of the scenes I liked from the theatrical release are ripped wholesale from this version of the movie, with maybe an exception or two.

EVERYTHING with Cyborg is better in this movie. Like. EVERYTHING.

The lighting? Is SO MUCH better. The theatrical cut is SO UGLY compared to this movie. My girlfriend couldn’t look at the bat suit in the theatrical release for a second without complaining it looked terrible, and that was a nonissue in the snyder cut, the bat suit looked amazing. Diana’s low necklines were still there, but no longer shot in a way that was distracting. And dear god, the Steppenwolf redesign looks so much better, god.

Speaking of Steppenwolf, our villain now has a character motivation! He’s in some way sympathetic and understandable! Wow! Now I fucking understand why our villain is doing what they’re doing, and it plays into the theme!

And that’s where the praise has to stop, because now I gotta get into the complaints. Under the cut, so now one has to listen to my bitching if they don’t want to. (Also, I get into like, spoilers, so be warned)

Okay, this movie has a theme, and the theme is family, and it is SO POORLY EXECUTED. Snyder doesn’t do “theme” particularly well - the family angle is kind of an after thought. It’s there, for sure, Steppenwolf wants to go home and be part of his family again, and family is a big part of Cyborg’s arc, and Barry’s stuff with his dad is pretty strong, but this movie isn’t Cyborg and the Flash vs. Steppenwolf - it’s THE JUSTICE LEAGUE vs. Steppenwolf. Each character has a connection to their family that is TOUCHED on, but it’s not given the weight it needs. Diana receives a message from her mother, but Diana doesn’t go visit her at any point or send a message back or anything. Aquaman talks about his mother and father kind of expositionally, designed to set up for the Aquaman movie which now contradicts the already existing Aquaman movie, but we never see his family nor get a strong sense of connection. Clark’s reunion with his mother is extremely brief and unimpactful. And Bruce, who has so much opportunity to delve deep into family connections, especially as the only member of the League who’s ever been a father, confirmed by the nightmare sequence, is given nothing to work with on the family front.

That’s another thing, Snyder does plot driven movies, he doesn’t do CHARACTER very well. He’d rather exposition for 20 minutes than delve into the emotions of his characters. We’re given an idea that maybe Diana’s worried about her mom, and Bruce is probably still grieving his dead child, but none of that is dealt with. Like, Superman is a McGuffin, he has some emotional weight when he goes to get the black and white suit and you get the overlapping dialog of Jor-El and Jonathan, but he gets over being DEAD so fast, and his reunions with his family are like... limp noodles. I think the worst offender is the death of Cyborg’s father, which I found extremely clunky, and Victor has feelings about it for, like, a scene, kind of, and it just gets pushed aside. His own teammates are barely empathetic that he just lost a parent. I’ve already heard people praise this scene as “more interesting and emotional”, but I found it EXTREAMLY clunky and awkwardly handled.

Speaking of the exposition, it goes SO LONG. Like, SO LONG. We don’t need this much info dumping, it drags the movie. Cut Diana’s explanation of the mother boxes down to, like, three minutes, five max. Maybe do it like the Story of Ares from the Wonder Woman movie. Keep the first scene of Steppenwolf and Desaad establishing Steppenwolf’s character motivation and then like.... cut.... everything.... else. Between Steppenwolf and Desaad. It mostly exists to set up the fuckin’ Anti-Life equation sequel bait, which we don’t need explained in detail in THIS movie; just have Darkseid mention it at the end as a reason to return to Earth at the end like they already do and cut out all the stuff setting it up, let it be a mystery. And then Cyborg’s info dump on his powers wasn’t necessary, though I liked the way it led into a warm fuzzy moment of him helping that family, and he kinda smiles like, yeah, he likes helping people, he’s on his way to accepting himself and stuff. But then the extra info dump about how his dad’s lab came into possession of the cube like “WELL, IN WORLD WAR 2 - “ like aaaaah, no one cares, cut it.

Uh... I wish I saw less of Darkseid. I feel like the movie ruined its own suspense by showing off Darkseid’s full design within the first hour. I would have prefered a, you know, more Fire Lord Ozai approach. Don’t show him until the end - or AT ALL, if they can manage it, leave that for a future movie, given this was made with the expectations of more movies. Darkseid’s design was also really disappointing, like Steppenwolf looked so GOOD, he was big and menacing with the armor on, but next to him Darkseid looked... small. I wanted him to be bigger, broader, more menacing.

Uh... Martian Manhunter. Cool reveal, very shocking, I was hyped, uh, but did not make a load of sense. Very weird moment. And then when you see him again, and Bruce is like “this may as well happen” lol, omg, how checked out is Bruce?

Lois Lane remains... a limp wet paper bag, and I would have preferred her replaced wholesale with Martha. Love interests being the Thing To Calm The Rampaging Hulk Kryptonian only works if, like, the audience is on board. And I never thought Snyder’s Clark/Lois romance was very strong, because of Snyder’s whole plot-over-character thing, and also I thought this depiction of Lois kinda sucked... But with Martha, you can at least fall back on the cultural concept of a boy’s love for his mother to stand in for weaker character set up, and it would play into that theme of family a lot better.

I don’t know... how to unpack why... the nightmare future injustice dream sequence.... made me physically angry. But man did I not like that. I feel like I manifested a confirmed Robin death... in the worst way possible. Because boy. I HATED THAT.

Oh! Uh, and I didn’t like Barry’s new introduction. I thought it was weaker than seeing him meet with his dad in jail, and it was kind of... off mood. It was really SILLY, and nothing else in the movie was really that tonally silly. Barry was overall treated with more respect in this movie, but it still felt like the movie was somewhat disinterested in Flash’s whole... brand. Barry stuck out a bit as the one character who was overall not really particularly angsty. I will say, I miss the scene from Whedon’s theatrical release of Barry overcoming his fear by taking Bruce’s advice to just save “one” person; that was a good scene and played well into Barry’s youth and inexperience and into Bruce’s history as a mentor and a father. That said, FUCK did Whedon nerf the shit out of Barry’s powers. This boy can TIME TRAVEL.

#justice league #snydercut #movie review

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streetgxth · 4 years

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you can tell a lot about someone by the type of music they listen to

rules: hit shuffle on your media player and write down the first 20 songs, then tag 10 people. no skipping!

ok so i am fashionably late to doing this (very on brand for me) but i really wanted to do it so here we are. extra special thank you to @himbocalum for tagging me in this. out of all my 8 years of being on tumblr this is my first tag game can you believe? anyways lets go this is gonna be a little long and so if i can’t figure out how to put this up as a read more then i apologize. feel free to come talk to me about any of these songs or bands i'd be more than happy to chat!!

1. graveyard souls - crown the empire: i love this band so fucking much ooooomg y'all don't even know. this song goes so hard and dave and andy's vocals on it... yes. also "just shut your eyes and remember you're never alone" i'm emo about it and always will be thnx

2. teenagers - my chemical romance: speaking of emo lmao. this right here a fucking emo kid classic. this song is fun af and i love my chem v much

3. bury a friend - billie eilish: i don't care i'm gonna say it. this is a great fucking song and the vibes are immaculate especially the bridge like are you kidding? i love the horror movie energy of it so much

4. nightmare - halsey: MY MF WIFE omg i love miss halsey with my whole heart. she really went tf in on this one and for that i thank her. she sounds so powerful on this one and i just- yes

5. horizon - bad seed rising: rip to this band they not dead just broken up :( anyways i love their singers voice here and lyrics on this one feel very hopeful and the song kinda makes me think of spring time for some reason? i don't know but it's a great song

6. the fallout - crown the empire: once again I LOVE THIS BAND especially this song bc it was the first one i ever heard by them and that made me love them from the start. it has a special place in my heart for that fact and even tho it's not an emotional song it makes me emotional bc of the memories i have with it. so yeah an amazing song i love the theatrics of it and the breakdown!!! pure fuego

7. kids in love - mayday parade: this one really throws me back to the start of my emo days. i listened to this song bc it was the basis of a 5sos one shot djskdhdjd. ANYWAYS love this song it's a bop and i listen to it every time it comes on shuffle

8. rest in piss - old wounds: oof we really getting into the diversity of my music taste with this one. so basically what this song is saying is FUCK FASCISM!!! and i agree. this song goes crazy and i love it and i love his voice and i love this band

9. voodoo doll - 5 seconds of summer: this song is a bop! such a throwback to my early emo days as well. self titled era was a Time™ and i've lowkey been missing it

10. choker - beach goons: this song is pretty short and simple but i love her bc it was the first song i heard by this band and i immediately fell in love with them. i miss them so much as well. nothing happened to them just thinking about seeing them live

11. untouchable - motionless in white: i fucking love motionless in white holy fuck. i will say that this is a song by them i'm more neutral towards like she's good and all but i don't love it like some others songs by them

12. detox - darke complex: another one of my absolute favorite bands and i'm still sad about them breaking up. ugh this song is so fucking good i love it so much. the bridge on this *chefs kiss* they did not have to snap so hard like damn!!

13. autumn leaves - ed sheeran: i don't listen to him v much anymore but this song still hurts. it's so pretty and the first time i heard it i cried (which partly may or may not have been bc once again it was the basis for a fic i was reading djsjskdjfk)

14. blasphemy - bring me the horizon: another song i'm a bit more neutral towards but still really enjoy this band. oli sounds great on this song tho i love his voice

15. breathe in, breathe out - set it off: I LOVE THIS BAND AHHH!! you know how some bands really aren't THAT great when they first start one which is fine but like set it off is hardly one of those bands. this is an older song by them and like they've just always been so fucking good and i love that about them

16. lucky strike - troye sivan: my mf baby troye omg. this song is a certified bop! it's so catchy and fun and he sounds so good on it. ugh i love my son

17. concrete - as it is: my other son!! I know patty walters is not the only member but i do have a special place for him in my heart so! anyways this song launches me into my sophomore year omg. i listened to this song a lot and it's just such a pure pop punk song imo and i just love it

18. fountain of youth - cane hill: this brings me back to summer 2016 which ugh one for the books y'all such a good summer. but uh yeah this song is sick i love me some good metalcore

19. all i see is gold - bridgit mendler: y'all we failed bridgit she was the unproblematic pop girlie that we needed!! this song is just stunning she sounds amazing and the energy of this song is just so real and you can really feel the tension in it

20. winter - pvris: i love pvris!!! this song lyrically isn't that fun but overall sonically it's so bouncy and upbeat and i love songs like that especially ones by pvris bc i adore lynn's voice

if you’ve already done this pls just ignore this of course but if you haven’t then go ahead and do it if you’d like: @reddestdesert @fourdrunksluts @malumsmermaid @calsbunny @babyboyafi @killmytyme @wheniminouterspace @singledadharrington @jizzhands @daftprettyboyys

#tag game #music #me #this was fun #i love talking about music

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honeyctm · 4 years

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according to tmz’s latest update , 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨 has just signed with 𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖞 … you know the twenty five year 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 singer / songwriter ? the one who resembles 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞 ? yeah , her ! they’re known for being +𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 but also -𝐯𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠 . rumor has it , 𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 . hopefully , under new management , the 𝐜𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 will avoid being the subject of a new scandal . [ emmy , 21+ , she/her , pst ]

hello everyone ! i am so excited to be here with you all on this brand new journey together ❤️ my name is emmy and i’m one of the admins . please , please seek me out for anything and everything , i’m more than willing to assist ! this is my problematic child honey . she’s a bit of a chaotic mess but i hope you all grow to love her just as much as i have . i can’t wait to plot with you guys !

⤷ ⋄ * introducing honey caprio !

honey was born angela caprio to italian immigrant parents , angela and joseph in maryland . living a rather unproductive childhood , there was not much of her early childhood that is worth noting other than she adopted the name honey relatively young as she loathed sharing a name with a mother and it was an affectionate pet name her father gave her that she really liked . in school , honey was hardly remarkable in any sense . her grades were average , she had a solid friend group and was a member of the choir . her voice is always something that stood out , particularly her talented vocal range which helped cast her in several musical theater productions . so how did someone so genuinely normal sky rocket to stardom ? well , that’s a funny story , actually . ever hear of an industry plant ? you’re looking at one . and what exactly is an industry plant ? an artist that is suddenly skyrocketed to fame seemingly overnight , and that’s exactly what happened with honey . after graduating high school , honey had no intentions of seeking out a higher education . instead , she spent her youth partying with her friends , getting high , and making poor decisions . during one night of drunken karaoke , she was approached by a representative from a record company . a girl with zero ambition to do anything other than live her life to it’s fullest was suddenly being put in booths to sing her little heart out for some of the biggest producers in the game . while this was never a lifestyle that honey had thought plausible before , she quickly fit into the mold of what the record label was after : a sultry vocalist who is inherently messy . and thus , dangerous woman was born . it was a calculated release right down to the title track , the first single , and the overall aesthetic honey would portray . honey had very little input in dangerous woman , which launched her into a mainstream name overnight with her smokey music video and impressive range . suddenly she wasn’t a girl from maryland anymore . she was attending hollywood parties , having sex with big names . no one really knew where this girl came from --- she was suddenly here and in everyone’s faces and making appearances at nearly every award show . sweetener was the first album that honey had some creative control over . she was experienced now , a world tour behind her and a sturdy fan base . while she wasn’t pumping out hits , she was the topic of many headlines . too drunk to walk out of the club , multiple whirlwind romances that ended horrifically , and diva - esque behavior which was amplified by her infamous donut licking incident . shortly after sweetener was released with success , honey’s label gave her the go ahead to drop another album almost six months later , thank u next which earned her several grammy nominations . no one is really sure how a girl so messy became so damn famous , but her agent recommend that she find better management to keep her name in a more . . . ahem , positive light . she signed with vilify and embarked on another world tour which she recently wrapped . it’s rumored honey is currently working on new projects but she’s been keeping it low key . . . for now .

⤷ ⋄ * isms + head canons !

⤷ honey is . . . a leo to a fault . she’s playful , bright , but horribly demanding and stubborn .

⤷ she’s bisexual and she’s honestly quite a shamelessly sexual individual . she isn’t the type to settle down to easily , though , and often juggles a handful of lovers instead of committing to just one person .

⤷ her sense of humor is really unique . she sarcastic and dry , but i would also consider her to be quite childish . she’s immature in what she finds amusing .

⤷ she has all the canon tattoos that ariana grande has .

⤷ becoming a celebrity hasn’t really changed her personality too drastically , rather she’s very set in her ways and doesn’t often behave like a celebrity should . she isn’t very poised . she curses in interviews and on the red carpet .

⤷ while she is so successful musically , it wasn’t her passion until recently . now that she has more creative control of her music and has been taught the art of production , she is genuinely passionate over it .

⤷ she literally won’t respond to angela , just don’t do it . don’t call her that . . . she’ll kick you right in the balls , i promise you .

⤷ if i had to compare her characters , i would say she’s a mixture of buffy summers , jim from the office , summer from rick and morty , & marquise from cruel intentions .

⤷ her tendency to be impulsive gets her in a shit ton of trouble . she has horribly bad luck and is caught by the press doing nearly everything that she should keep hidden .

⤷ loathes being alone , she will have her friends live with her in her home rather than not have someone to go home to .

⤷ she isn’t the best romantic partner . a lot of her music reflects that , especially in thank u next . she doesn’t really seem to care about the way she acts , either . it’s important to note she hasn’t genuinely felt love before . she’s come close , but that exploded in her face .

⤷ in contrast , honey is an excellent friend . she’s loyal . she’s fierce when it comes to her group . she’ll be the first one posting shit on ig , the first subtweeting . she relies on her friends for a great deal of support .

⤷ fame coming so quickly and so out of pocket really fucked with honey emotionally and psychologically . she suffers from anxiety , gets panic attacks , and often turns to drinking and drugs to combat those feelings .

⤷ ⋄ * plot ideas !

⤷ platonic plots : best friend(s) , housemates , music collaborator , inspiration , writing buddies , party buddies , only friends when we’re high / drunk , we met backstage at an award show and have a budding friendship , you used to date my best friend but we got along so well we stayed friends , drug dealer , i got too drunk at a party and you looked after me , confidants , we went on a date but ended up being friends instead , theme park buddies , sibling like bond , we used to hate each other until we actually got to know each other , publicity friends , we used to date but now we’re just friends

⤷ romantic plots : forbidden romance / affair , hateship , exes with benefits , friends with benefits , publicity romance , heartbreak , i could’ve fallen in love with you but we never got the chance to make it real , we only hook up when we’re fucked up , you’re the boy / girl in my songs

#vtm:intro #i could've gone at this harder but i got lazy i haTe myself

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animeniacss · 4 years

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6 Years - Hoseok x Reader - Chapter 17 - First Day of School

Synopsis: 6 years. That’s all it can take to take another look at someone and see that they have completely changed. You were once an eager 20-year-old, with your dreams all in view, and Jung Hoseok at your side to view them with you. However, after a break up the end of your junior year of college, everything seemed different. Now, you’re a recently divorced single mother of two, and your life is nowhere near what you thought it would be. However, after reuniting with Jung Hoseok, you may just be able to capture a little bit of that exciting youth you once knew so long ago.

Feat. BTS Members, Nayeon (TWICE), and Yuna (itzy)

Genre: Romance, SingleMother!AU, Past Relationship, Drama, Some Depictions of Violence/Domestic Abuse

Length: approx. 4.6k words

Chapter 17- First Day of School

Weong-Bin didn’t seem to bother you or Hoseok after that. He would come to your house, pick up the girls on the days he was supposed to, the both of you would offer a hug and a hello for the girl’s sake, but that was it. He wouldn’t try to swoon you over or make a request to stop seeing Hoseok. It just all came to a stop. In a way, it relieved you, but you were skeptical. Had he really given up, or was he planning something? Oh well, for now, you had more important things to worry about.

Summer came and went faster than you had planned for it too, and it was mid-August. That meant Min Ja was starting school soon, and boy was she sure that nobody forgot it. She would beg whoever she could to take her school shopping for cute clothes, or backpacks, or school supplies, whatever she could think of just so someone could get her into the school section of the local shopping mall. Today, Taehyung was dragged into it and took Hyo Bin with him. This left you home to prepare an early dinner for them and Hoseok was happy to come and give your company when you had asked. He was sitting on the couch, humming a tune as he flipped through the channel, and while you stood in the kitchen and prepared.

“They should be home pretty soon.” You pointed out. “I hope Taehyung didn’t go too crazy with the clothes for the girls.”

“Well, depending on where they went shopping, we’ll just have to see.” Hoseok chuckled a bit. You nodded in agreement, turning back to the sizzling pot on the stove.

As the two of you relaxed in silence for about another hour, you heard the door unlock. Looking over, you saw Taehyung walk in… kid-less.

“…Tae…where are my girls?” you asked curiously, turning the stove off. Taehyung looked around.

“What? Oh…right. I forgot; your girls are dead.” He saw both you and Hoseok, and the confused yet slightly worrying looks on your faces, despite how calm he was acting. “I would like to introduce to you, the most fashionable little ladies in all of South Korea.” He pushed the door open a little more, revealing Min Ja and Hyo Bin standing side by side. They were dressed head to toe in all Gucci apparel: shirts, pants, little coats, headbands, and shoes. Your eyes widened as you looked at the girls standing in what was obviously their attempt to copying Taehyung’s modeling poses. “Cho Min Ja and Cho Hyo Bin at your service.”

“Oh my God…” Hoseok began to laugh as he walked to your side to get a better look at the girls.

“How much did all of that even cost?!” You asked, looking at your brother. He grinned as he scooped Hyo Bin up.

“The only things that are real Gucci are the headbands, the rest is all off-brand for kids, so it isn’t expensive at all.”

“But still, Gucci headbands for a four and two-year-old?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Mama, I’mma model~.” Hyo Bin cooed. Taehyung laughed a bit as you nodded.

“I know you are, baby girl. But next time, Uncle Tae needs to buy you some practical clothes. Right? Can you say practical?”

“Pracal.” She repeated, pointing to Taehyung. “Pracal.”

“Okay, okay.” Taehyung laughed. “But you like them, right Min Ja?”

“Yeah! I’m gonna look so cool in school!” She cheered happily. You sighed, setting Hyo Bin down.

“Let’s get you both changed for now.” You said, leading Hyo Bin into the bedroom. “Dinner is almost ready. Hobi can you just turn on the stove and watch it again for me?”

“Righty-O.” Hoseok cheered, offering a thumbs-up as he and Taehyung headed into the kitchen. You took your kids into their room, helping Hyo Bin put on some clothes while Min Ja grabbed some and dressed herself.

“Mommy look, I’m better at dressing myself now.” Min Ja said.

“That means you’re ready for kindergarten.” You said, smiling as you fixed Hyo Bin’s shirt. Min Ja watched you fold all of the Gucci stuff, and set it in a drawer.

“Is kindergarten fun, Mommy?” she asked curiously.

“Hm? Well, yeah.” You assured her. Min Ja walked over to you and rested herself into your side, head resting on your shoulder. A motherly arm wrapped around her, and you kissed her forehead. “I haven’t been to kindergarten in a while, but I remember that school as a whole was a lot of fun. You’re going to play games, and learn how to read and write, and how to do the math.”

“I can do the math. One plus one is two. Five plus five is…uh…”

“Ten.” You said.

“Ten!” She shouted, grinning. “Plus, I can count to twenty all by myself. So, I don’t need to do that part.”

“Heh, well, maybe you can learn other cool things too. Because there’s a lot more math than just counting to twenty.”

“There is?!” She asked in amazement. “Oh no…” you smiled, patting her back as you stood up.

“You’re going to be okay.” You assured. “Ready for dinner?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, taking your hand. Hyo Bin took the other one as the three of you headed into the kitchen. Hoseok and Taehyung were setting the table, as the food seemed to be just about done. “Yummy!” She beamed, hurrying to her spot in the table with her sister following right behind. You took your seat as well, and the group began to eat. Min Ja happily spoke to Taehyung about this new and innovative idea of counting higher than twenty, something that was absolutely fascinating to her! He listened, amused at her excitement the entire time she chewed his ear off.

“I can’t wait for kindergarten now!” She said eagerly.

“You already couldn’t wait for it, Min Ja.” Taehyung pointed out.

“I know, but now it’s even more!” The adults at the table let out an amused chuckle as they continued to eat.

--------------

Mid-August finally arrived, and Min Ja was just as excited about the first day of school as she was for almost anything else – overly excited. After taking what felt like decades to pick out her perfect first-day outfit, she was struggling to fall asleep. She was sitting in bed all night, begging both you and Hobi to tell her stories about what school would be like, what she would do, really anything she could rattle off in her tiny mind. It took a lot of prodding and desperate pleas to get to fall asleep. The next morning, you managed to wake up before Min Ja, somehow. So, slipping out of bed to not disturb Hoseok, you tossed on some clothes for work and headed into the kitchen to prepare a nice breakfast for everyone. The apartment was silent, you could barely hear sounds of Hoseok making noise in his sleep from the bedroom. It was just enough noise that you were able to remain at ease as you heard the sound of eggs sizzling in your pan.

As you continued to cook, you heard the sound of shifting coming from your bedroom, followed by a tired groan. Hoseok must be up. You thought to yourself. Shifting turned to shuffles on the floor, getting louder and clearer as they entered the living room, then the kitchen. You felt two arms sneak their way around your waist, and a chin plop itself down on your shoulder.

“When did you wake up?” He asked curiously. “I didn’t feel you get out of bed.”

“About ten minutes ago.” You said. “I thought I would get a head start on breakfast before Min Ja starts bouncing off the walls.” As you noticed the eggs were just about done, you turned off the stove and sighed. “Are you awake enough to set the table?” you asked curiously. Hoseok groaned, nuzzling his head farther into your neck, the sensation making shivers run up your spine. You giggled. “Aaaah, stop.” You begged, squirming away. Hoseok grinned sleepily. “I guess not.”

“No, I am.” He said, rubbing his eyes.

“Okay, then I’ll go wake up the girls.” You headed into the girl’s room, seeing both of them were still sound asleep. You decided to leave Hyo Bin for a bit longer, but you went to Min Ja’s side and shook her gently. “Min Ja~.” you cooed. “Time to wake up, and get ready for school.” At the very mention of the word, Min Ja’s eyes shot open, and she sat up in bed. You had to quickly shush her before she began shouting, telling her that Hyo Bin was still asleep. “Let’s put on your clothes and get your hair all done up.” Min Ja nodded, slipping out of bed and grabbing her clothes before racing into the bathroom.

Once Min Ja was changed in her white button-up blouse and navy overall skirt, you brushed the knots out of her hair and let it lay in two low pigtails against her shoulders. She was beaming as she stared at herself in the mirror. She slipped on her socks and hurried to the front door, grabbing her backpack and tossing it on her back. Hoseok looked up from the table to see her eagerly spinning around.

“Look, Mr. Hobi!” she squealed.

“You look wonderful, Min Ja.” he said with a happy smile. “You must be so excited!”

“I am!” She beamed. When she noticed he was setting the table, she hurried over. “Can I help you?” she asked curiously. Hoseok chuckled a bit. “I’m in kindergarten now! That means I’m almost an adult-like you and Mommy!”

“That is true.” Hoseok laughed a bit. He handed her some of the napkins and eating utensils. “Can you just put these next to all the plates for me?”

“Okay!” She said, practically skipping around the table to do so.

You had woken Hyo Bin up once you knew Min Ja was ready to go. She was a bit fussy at first, but it died down once you rubbed her back and brought her out to see her sister and Hoseok, who were both setting the table.

“Mommy! Mr. Hobi said the food is all done!” She cheered; her smile stretched so wide across her face you were worried it might be starting to hurt her cheeks. Setting Hyo Bin in her seat, the four of you gathered around the table and began to eat.

Min Ja and Hyo Bin were busy eating, Hoseok asking Min Ja some questions about what she was most excited for and she answered, whether she had food in her mouth or not. You had to scold her for it a few times. Just as you were beginning to clean up, you heard a knock at the door. For a moment, you felt your body go rigid, dread wrapping you in its chilling embrace and trying to suffocate you. However, taking a deep breath, you got out of your chair and made your way to the door.

“Min Ja, guess whose here?” You cooed, watching her glance up from the table. Opening the door, Weong-Bin was standing there, hands in his pockets. He had a day off today, so instead of wearing his usual business attire, he was in a tee shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Hi, Daddy.” Min Ja said happily after swallowing her food. Weong-Bin glanced at you, and you simply motioned him inside. As he did so, he slipped off his shoes and glanced back to the table. Hoseok was at the sink, washing the dishes. He had looked up when he heard Min Ja call out to Weong-Bin, and didn’t do anything except offer a polite nod in greeting and turn back to start the dishes.

“He stayed over?” Weong-Bin asked curiously.

“Yes? You act like this is a new occurrence.” You replied as you shut the door. Weong-Bin walked towards the kitchen, kissing his girls hello and hurrying them to finish their food, since it was a bit of a journey, taking Hyo Bin to daycare, then Min Ja to school. When he turned to Hoseok, he saw that he was wiping his hands on a towel.

“Good to see you.” He said simply, offering a hand. Hoseok glanced down at it, before simply taking his hand and shaking it. The minute their hands interlocked, Hoseok winced. Like a snake, Weong-Bin hands bound itself around Hoseok’s in a tight, vicelike grip. Hoseok tried not to act bothered, though it did sting. A small smirk formed on Weong-Bin face; he could easily tell he was putting enough pressure where Hoseok was uncomfortable. He pulled back, and Hoseok’s hand went immediately into his pants pocket.

“You too.” He said. He glanced at the time. “I need to get dressed.” You watched him head into the bedroom and noticed faintly that he was shaking his hand in distress as he closed the bedroom door. Glancing back at Weong-Bin, you had noticed he had continued putting the leftover dishes into your sink. It was almost totally silent between the adults after that, the only conversation in the house occurring if one of the girls was involved in it.

The walk out of the apartment building and down the street was better because of Min Ja was chatting everyone up. She just couldn’t stop talking, and some of the conversations were no longer about school. It was just whatever came to her mind, and Weong-Bin had her hand in his, so he was getting the brunt of it. You walked beside Hoseok, Hyo Bin in your arms.

“Are you alright?” you asked Hoseok, and he looked in your direction. “You looked like you were in pain before.” He only offered a shrug.

“I’m alright. Weong-Bin was trying to intimidate me again with a scary handshake.” A playful grin covered his face, and you sighed.

“What an idiot.” You mumbled.

“Mommy!” Min Ja shouted, making you looked over at her. “We’re at daycare! Miss Yun Yun said she wanted to see my new clothes for kindergarten!”

“Okay, okay.” You said happily. The group of you made it inside the daycare, while the kind old woman was waiting for you.

“Good morning, Miss Yun Yun!” Min Ja said happily. “Look, I’m all ready for kindergarten.”

“I can see that~.” She said happily. “We’re going to miss you in daycare this year.”

“Me too.” Min Ja said. “But Mr. Hobi said I cried all my sad tears out at graduation so I can’t cry anymore! I can only be happy. Then he made a funny bridge with his hands like this-.” She lifted her arms up over her head to make a bridge-like structure. “-and he told me to walk through it.”

“You do that a lot, don’t you?” You whispered to Hoseok, who grinned, confident in his method to cheer people up. Min Ja continued talking with Yun Yun for a few moments before you told her it was time to go.

“Bye, Miss Yun Yun!” She waved happily.

“Goodbye, honey. Have a great first day.” You passed Hyo Bin off to Yun Yun with a kiss in her hair. She glanced down at Min Ja from where she was, and it didn’t take her long to realize Min Ja was not coming with her.

“Ummy?” she reached out to her. “C’mon, Ummy.” Min Ja looked up at her and blinked.

“Hyo Bin.” She said, putting her hands on her hips. “We talked about this last night…” you blinked, glancing down at your daughter as you heard speak. “I go to kindergarten now, not a daycare. There’s a big difference.”

“U-ummyyyyyyyy.” She sniffled, eyes watering. Yun Yun smiled, rubbing the whimpering toddlers back to try and calm her down. You saw Hyo Bin look up at you as if you were going to be the one to make sure her big sister stayed in daycare with her. All you could do was walk over and kissed her hair gently, and she tried to hug you.

“It’s okay.” You said softly, taking her back in your arms. “We’ll see Min Ja later okay? It’s time to go to school.” Hyo Bin didn’t look like she was going to be convinced any time soon, so you passed her back to Yun Yun. It was then she really began to cry. Glancing at Yun Yun, she only offered you a kind smile.

“I’ll calm her down, we’ll be fine. You guys go, or she’ll be late.”

“I’ll call later.” You assured. Despite Hyo Bin crying for her sister not to leave, you had to take her out of the daycare and towards the school. Min Ja took her Dad’s hand, and looked up at him.

“Daddy, will Hyo Bin be okay?” She asked curiously. “I can go to school tomorrow so she stops crying.” Weong-Bin smiled, scooping her up in his arms.

“That’s very sweet of you, honey, but you need to go to school. Hyo Bin will be just fine with all of her friends.” Min Ja still felt a bit guilty, but she did no. “Don’t worry, after school, you can tell Hyo Bin all about your day.”

As you continued to walk to school, Min Ja was growing more and more nervous. The realization seemed to be set in that this wasn’t a daycare, this was something almost completely different. She wouldn’t say it, but she showed it. Every few minutes, she held another adult's hand. Each time she did, her grip would tighten and she would clutch their arm as well. Whenever someone asked her what was wrong, she would say that it was nothing.

“Here we are.” You said, pointing to the elementary school building. It was flooding with children and their parents, taking pictures outside the school with friends and family, mothers crying into their husband’s chest as their young ones were progressing into their school careers. You had to admit, you were choking up just seeing the school building. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Mhm… it’s so big.” She said.

“It’s the same size as it was when we came to look at it over the summer.” Hoseok said, squatting down beside her. “It’s really cool. I wish I went to school here.” Min Ja looked at him.

“I don’t wanna go in alone.”

“Well we can walk you to the door.” Hoseok said Weong-Bin watched as Min Ja walked into Hoseok’s arms, hugging him tightly. “Awww, don’t be nervous….”

“I’m not.” She said, but Hoseok could hear the trembling in her voice. Weong-Bin sighed, turning his back away and sticking his hands in his pockets. He didn’t want to watch his daughter bonding with Hoseok when he was standing right there. But at the same time, he didn’t want to cause a scene in front of an elementary school. He could hear Hoseok calming his daughter down, mentioning the bridge that they had done whenever Min ja got upset over the summer. It seemed to be working. When you saw her calming down, you motioned to Weong-Bin.

“Want a picture of the three of us?” You asked him curiously. He sighed. “I’m only doing it because I want a bunch of different pictures, and you are her father.”

“Yeah, of course, I do.” He said. You turned back to Hoseok, who was still holding Min Ja close to him as managed to calm her down.

“Hobi, can you take a picture of the three of us? I want to get a bunch!” You smiled happily. Hoseok smiled, pulling out his phone.

“Of course!” You led Min Ja to a space that was open enough to give you privacy. Hoseok smiled as he snapped some pictures. You took some with Min Ja and Weong-Bin, some with just you, some with just Weong-Bin, Min Ja by herself, and Hoseok even hopped into a few. All of the photos made Min Ja feel a lot better, and her mood only improved when she heard someone calling her name.

“Min Ja!” She looked over and saw San-Ha, dressed in the same little uniform as her, charging towards her with full speed. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of her best friend.

“SAN-HA!” She cheered, quickly hurrying up to her. The girls quickly embraced each other in a tight hug, and you couldn’t help but snap a few more pictures with the two girls. “Are you nervous too?”

“Mhm, a little. But Mommy and Daddy said it would all be okay.” She assured. You had glanced up to see So-Hee, hand in hand with her husband, whom you had only seen at the recital once, but seemed like a good man. They approached you and it when then you noticed So-Hee’s cheeks were red.

“How are you not crying?!” So-Hee asked when she approached you. “I haven’t stopped all morning.” You smiled a bit.

“Oh well, maybe it just hasn’t hit me yet.” You motioned to the two little girls who had rushed up to Hobi. “I still have her in my sights.” You saw So-Hee’s husband laugh a bit at that.

“I hate to see what’s she’s like once San-Ha goes inside.” He said. So-Hee took the moment to introduce the both of you, then she quickly noticed Weong-Bin make his way over and introduce himself to San-Ha’s father. So-Hee must have told her husband about you being divorced and seeing Hoseok, but he kept it just as cheery as he most likely would have had the both of you still been married. The fathers took a few moments to chat, leaving you and So-Hee alone as well.

“How’s having the both of them around been?” she asked curiously.

“Oh, it’s not that bad. Awkwardness is something I’ve had to kind of get used to at this point.” Shrugging, you glanced over at Hoseok, who was kneeling down between the girls and pointing to the building as they watched some of the older kids, mostly in fifth and sixth grade, heading into the school with high levels of confidence and familiarity. He was doing a good job of hyping the girls up. Suddenly, a warning bell rang through the courtyard.

“Oh, it’s time to go to class!” Hobi said, smiling at the girls. You looked over at them and slowly made your way over to your daughter, kneeling down before her. “You’re going to have so much fun.”

“Mr. Hobi is right. And we’ll be here to get you after school is over.”

“You promise?” she asked.

“Of course, we will.” You assured. “Then we’ll go get Hyo Bin and get some ice cream so you can tell us all about your day!” Min Ja nodded, her eyes wandering back to the school. She and San-Ha both gave hugs to their parents, and you could hear So-Hee begin to blubber up some tears as she kissed her little girl. Both girls made sure they had their bags and their hair was still sitting the same way it was when they left the house.

“Bye, Mommy!” Min Ja said happily, waving to you. San-Ha waved to her mother as well, the duo hurrying into the crowd of other young kindergarteners. Older kids were waiting around, the ones who were kind enough to assist little ones in finding their classrooms without a hassle. You watched Min Ja walk into the school, before an older girl stopped her and San-Ha, offering her assistance. It wasn’t long before the crowd of children overtook your vision, and Min Ja was nothing more than a little fish, swimming into her very first school. Once she was out of your sights, your throat closed up and your chest tightened. Quickly, you wiped your eyes, your shaky breath of air alerting both Weong-Bin and Hoseok.

“Oh, are you crying now too?” Hoseok frowned, wrapping his arm around you. You hugged him tightly, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Awww c’mon, I just had this talk with the girls, you can’t cry now too.” He cooed playfully. Weong-Bin walked up to, and you felt his hand on your shoulder. You wiped your eyes and looked over at him.

“Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to drive you to work today? It’s just parked outside your apartments.” You let out a deep sigh. It didn’t sound like he was trying to be manipulative at this moment, he was probably just as emotional as you, seeing his first daughter start her very first day of school.

“Uh, no, I’m okay.” You assured. “I actually am going to call Yun Yun on my way to the station and check on Hyo Bin. Thanks, though.” Weong-Bin let out a sigh, nodding. You turned to Hoseok. “You head to work, too. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay. But promise you won’t cry.” He pouted, wiping away the few tears in your eyes.

“I can’t promise that, now can I?” you teased, and Hoseok chuckled. “But I will let you know when I’m at work.” Hoseok nodded, and after fixing the bag on your shoulder, you kissed Hoseok goodbye, said your goodbye to Hoseok, and headed in the direction of the station.

On the way, you saw So-Hee and her husband, So-Hee crying in her husband’s arms. She looked up when she saw your cheeks were a bit red as well.

“See? I told you that you would cry.” She joked, smiling a bit. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“If you want to join us for ice cream after school, you guys are more than welcome.” You offered. “I’m sure both girls will be at the hip from morning until afternoon.”

“I’ll let you know.” So-Hee said. You nodded, waving her off as you continued off school grounds and back down the street to the station.

Back on school grounds, as parents were finally starting to disperse, Weong-Bin and Hoseok walked to the entrance. You were already a faint blip in their view by then, leaving the two of them alone. Hoseok checked the time.

“I need to go.” He said simply, putting his hands in his pockets. As he turned to leave, of course, he was stopped.

“Hoseok.” When he heard Weong-Bin’s face, Hoseok couldn’t help but groan and make a face of annoyance. However, he turned back to Weong-Bin.

“Yes?” he asked. Weong-Bin was silent for a moment, and Hoseok was waiting to see what he would say. It took a moment, and Hoseok was growing a bit impatient.

“My girls really seem to like you.” He said simply.

“I treat them as best as I can.” Hoseok said simply. “They’re good girls.”

“I know that.” He said simply. After another moment of silence, he added something. “How often do you sleepover that house?”

“That’s absolutely none of your business.” Hoseok stated simply. Weong-Bin scowled, and he crossed his arms. “I made myself clear when you try to assault me at my job. I won’t let you have any control over her anymore. You won’t be knowing anything about our relationship, no matter how much it kills you. And I know it will.” He scoffed. “Also, as a business, you might want to work on your handshake.” Weong-Bin glared at Hoseok’s attempt to be cunning and sarcastic, but Hoseok was proud of his diss, turning back around and heading down the street with a confident stride in his step.

Weong-Bin watched him head down the street, and he knew that Hoseok was absolutely right. It was killing him. He didn’t know how often Hoseok was over, what kind of things the two of you were doing together? The idea alone of the two of you in bed together made him want to punch a hole in the nearest wall, but he had to keep himself composed. His eyes wandered up towards the school building, the faint sounds of school children entering their classrooms, and first day lessons quickly beginning. The images of Min Ja hugging to Hoseok when she was scared, asking Hoseok for advice, smiling, and laughing with Hoseok.

Yeah. That needed to stop.

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interesting-blog-name · 4 years

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“Indie Rock” MEGAREVIEW (Hippo Campus - Bashful Creatures/Bad Suns - Language & Perspective/COIN - How Will You Know If You Never Try)

“Indie rock” is a term I never understood. It obviously should be used to describe rock by independent bands, but what counts as independent anymore? Bands like Arcade Fire and Modest Mouse are categorized as “indie”, much like Mac DeMarco, and they have reached a point in their careers of worldwide fame, but they’re still considered “indie”, not because they record their music at home with a $15 mic, but because of their sound. It’s hard to describe, but it’s a light brand of rock that has undistorted guitars, pop structures, and something of a Summer vibe to them. I really don’t know how to technically describe indie rock as a genre, but I have yet to listen to an indie rock album, so I got three short albums from bands that my some of my friends listen to, all under the “indie” umbrella (according to Wikipedia), to see if I actually like the style.

Hippo Campus – Bashful Creatures

It’s a solid EP. Not much more to say.

I really don’t know what to comment on in this, because I feel like the biggest problem with the “indie” “genre” is that the bands all sound the same, and for a 6-track EP, how much variety can you really ask for? Also considering this is their debut EP. The instrumentation is fine, especially the guitars, which I think really embody the whole summertime feel of the genre, and standout in almost all tracks here, and the singer’s voice is memorable enough, and doesn’t leave anything to be desired at any point. He’s also super hot The songwriting is that youthful, lovey dovey shit you’d hear in a teen romance movie (“Art school girl with ignorant bliss. Peace, weed, cocaine, and mushrooms and shit”) but it’s tolerable (except in Souls, that song’s chorus is a little too generic for me, I think; even though I like how the song starts kind of toned down and suddenly blows up). The closest the EP gets to having even the slightest bit of edge is on the title track, an anthem about not caring about what others think and being yourself, and Suicide Saturday, the biggest song in here, which talks about social suicide and college parties and all that. Unfortunately, they’re also the most forgettable songs.

Sophie So has a really catchy hook, and showcases Jake’s higher pitched vocals very well, it is easily my favorite song. On Little Grace, the biggest change-up is the dub rhythm that sneaks up in the middle of the song, but it doesn’t stand out, and the chorus is the most annoying in the EP. Opportunistic has a fast cadence to it that sets it apart a little bit, plus the guitar fingering is notable, but the track isn’t anything superb or whatever.

It is executed well, doesn’t bring anything new, but I’d listen to it in the car.

FAVORITE TRACK: Sophie So

LEAST FAVORITE TRACK: Bashful Creatures

Like a 6/10

“You came back, you wanted to see through my two-colored eyes. You left me at home with a handful of downtrodden sighs.”

Bad Suns – Language & Perspective

I had known Cardiac Arrest for almost three years now, an upbeat song I’d enjoyed a little, so I chose Bad Suns for the second album, and I was disappointed.

After the first three tracks, I had the feeling Language & Perspective had nothing interesting to offer, and I was mostly right. Nearly all songs here could be described as something like “indie-pop”, but with a huge emphasis on the “pop” aspect. The tracks are all so goddamn formulaic and predictable, songs like Take My Love and Run, Learn to Trust and We Move Like the Ocean sound like they literally copy-paste themselves halfway into them until they end, and Sleep Paralysis swaps what could be an actual verse with like 20 seconds of onomatopoeia. The song topics are generic and bland as well, most of them being about “[coming] to you on my hands and knees” and dreaming about an ex late at night and stuff like that, or general teenage anxiety and overthinking, and that would be tolerable if the band at least said it with some kind of variation, but they don’t, it’s just surface-level love and regret songs back to back.

An exception to the bland songwriting in the album is the song Salt, where lead singer Christo sings from the perspective of his transgender friend. I’m not trans, so I can’t relate nor understand if the lyrics are accurate, but the thing is he isn’t either. From the Genius annotations, it seems the friend was pleased though, and said the feelings expressed in the song were things she actually felt, but was never able to describe, so I guess that’s cool of him to dedicate a whole song to her experience. Still, unfortunately the track isn’t such a standout instrumentally or vocally, but one thing I liked was how the hook finishes at the end of the song, when “these memories are nothing to me, just salt” becomes “salt to the wound”, so yeah that was cool.

Language & Perspective is at its best when the hooks are catchy and you just don’t give a fuck. Songs like Cardiac Arrest, We Move Like the Ocean and Pretend are super easy to sing along to, and sound perfect for when you’re in a car driving against the sun (I know I said the exact same thing for the last album leave me alone), especially because of Bowman’s impressive singing, but without that thin veil of sugary pop, what does this album have that stands out? Matthew James, Take My Love and Run, Transpose (which sounds like it could be on a really corny Nike commercial) and Learn to Love just aren’t as memorable and fun, and so they end up coming off as generic, bland and at times annoying, just because they don’t hold up to the melodic fun little hooks on the other songs.

I can’t hate on Dancing on Quicksand and Rearview however, as even though the first’s lyrics aren’t standouts, I can’t help but love how groovy the song is, and the latter, while the melodies aren’t the most memorable here, the lyrics, to me, sound like they have a little more life and personality to them, even if they remain somewhat vague. I have to admit Sleep Paralysis is a mixed highlight for me, despite the lyrics being especially repetitive, just because of how grand the ending sounds and how the eerier chord progression brings at least something new to the album.

Also, really quick before I wrap it up, why the fuck is 20 Years not in the album? It’s in an EP they released the same year which features Cardiac Arrest, Transpose and Salt and it would easily be my favorite track if it was in the tracklist, maybe because it’s just really relatable to me how your teen years pass without you noticing, but it’s also so mellow and would bring such a refreshing little moment in the record.

My difficulties with this album is that I do like and see myself in the future bumping a lot of these songs individually, if I shut down a few parts of my brain and disregard half the lyrics, but when they’re all crumbled together into a project, their single qualities fade and their flaws unite to form a pretty unsatisfying listen; nearly all songs feel static, formulaic, and don’t progress or amount to much – which is pretty noticeable if you realize all songs span from 3:03 to 3:53 minutes - and the instrumentation brings almost nothing to the overall experience, it’s pretty much a backdrop for Bowman to sing his heart over, without much personality of its own. So while it’s not awful, it’s not good either.

FAVORITE TRACKS: Dancing on Quicksand, Rearview

LEAST FAVORITE TRACKS: Learn to Trust, Take My Love and Run

4.7/10

“You let your hair down, your face is made up, you know this town so well”

COIN – How Will You Know If You Never Try

COIN is the least familiar band of the three here, as I’ve only heard Growing Pains from them and I don’t remember anything from the track, but as a quick intro, the band is from Nashville, Tennessee and consisted of 4 members: Chase Lawrence on vocals and synthesizer, Ryan Winnen on drums, Joe Memmel on guitar and backing vocals, and Zach Dyke on bass until he left two years ago.

After listening to the first three tracks of the album, my expectations were pretty high, but after finishing, I feel like this album is reminiscent of a poorly-heated microwave meal: the first three tracks are decreasingly good, the middle of the album is raw, and the last three go back to being increasingly good, with the only exception being the bright spot that is track 7, Heart Eyes, a romantic, entrancing little jam that I can’t help but love.

My big grip with HWYKIYNT is that, for 11 tracks, COIN doesn’t let go of the ear-destroying instrumental breakdowns (it’s not like it’s heavy metal or anything, but the mixing makes it sound like the guitars blow up at some points), tuned up guitars and formulaic song structures, and that leads to many tracks becoming rather forgettable amongst the others. There are, of course, exceptions, but they’re few and I’d say not well-located within the album: Don’t Cry, 2020 is the big standout in the album for me, and I fell in love with it first listen (the context of today being 2020 also helps, I guess), Boyfriend’s defining synth-line and bubblegum qualities make for a lot of enjoyment, especially paired with the light-hearted passive-aggressiveness and rejection on the lyrics, and Talk Too Much, their biggest song, has some cute little lyrics, and an ultra-pop hook that centers the whole song around it and is impossible not so sing along to; but immediately after, the album starts to slow down its hype with I Don’t Wanna Dance, which has an appealing vocal performance by Chase, and starts promisingly with the synths, but is too simple to go anywhere.

Hannah is probably the most forgettable song here, and brings absolutely nothing to the album, and Are We Alone?’s lyrics are cute and focused but really simplistic; in this song specifically, I think the breakdown the band employs right after the hook is really unnecessary, and the song would do better without it. After that is Heart Eyes, which I’ve mentioned before as one of my favorites, mostly because it tones it down a bit, something that really needed to happen at some point this deep into the record.

The song Lately II contains the hidden track Nothing Matters and deals with Chase losing his newborn nephew, a sequel to Lately off the band’s debut album. On the outside, it sounds like just another cheerful song, but the lyrics taken into context I’m sure are very meaningful to Chase and his family; besides that I enjoy the heavier drums in this track and the loose vocal melodies right after the chorus, plus the closing instrumentals are also a nice addition, but I don’t really understand the need to include a hidden track into it; I understand the themes are intertwined, but it could have very well been a separate track, and the way it is slightly harms the song when isolated from the album into, for example, a playlist or a one-time listen, but whatever.

I don’t have much to say about Feeling, it’s your average hype indie-rock track, something you’d maybe hear in a FIFA video game soundtrack, but to its credit, it doesn’t go overboard in itself, the vocals and guitar performances feel very grounded and safe, in a good way. And to finish this off, Miranda Beach brings some solid guitars to the table, they feel very textured and pierce through every other sound; the song is definitely one of the most infectious and ear-catching on here. Closing it all up, Malibu 1992 is the slow jam the album was in need of for 11 tracks. Very stripped back and patient compared to the rest of the song, which makes it stand out naturally, but that doesn’t mean the song is superb or anything, it’s just a refreshing taste.

Throughout a lot of the tracks here I was waiting for something more, a slightly different approach to a song, more introspective lyrics, but it never really came in a way that stood out, and because of that, the start of the album ends up more solid than the rest of it, in my opinion. It isn’t a bad album, but it isn’t amazing either. I feel it’s very derivative, the lyrics are not a standout, and while some songs may be bops, I don’t feel it is strong as a whole project.

FAVORITE TRACKS: Don’t Cry, 2020; Miranda Beach; Talk Too Much; Heart Eyes

LEAST FAVORITE TRACK: Hannah

I’m feeling a strong 5 to a light 6 on this one.

“You’re so concerned about your future, yeah, but tomorrow’s just another day.”

#hippo campus #bad suns #coin #indie rock #rock #bashful creatures #language & perspective #how will you know if you never try #album #review #album review #ep #EP Review #boring ass day

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golden age of youth

title: golden age of youth pairing: lee hoseok/reader genre: racer!au/rivals to lovers!au summary: everyone can recognize the racer with the big smile and sparkling eyes—the hero of formula one, lee hoseok. in the lineal passage of time, another racer appears with adrenaline pumping through her veins and a sharp mouth to put everyone in their places. talent exudes from the two, as well as attraction, but to love there must be something more than an adrenaline rush. type: angst/fluff/romance/humor/suggestive word count: 21,586 disclaimer: this is part of my august special called ‘the anti-love club’. each story can be read individually, however, you’d be getting a little bit more of backstory along with some easter eggs if you read each of them, as well as helping me with support. the masterlist can be found here.

People start coming to life when they are in a state of danger, running, with beads of sweat pooling at the skin of their nape and on their forehead, when their clothes feel too heavy on their bodies and the saliva on their mouths accumulate, excessive as they ask for more, for safety primarily. This is a game that she knows how to play—for she is the one that brings herself to dangerous races. If she knows something, it is stepping on a pedal with all the force she has on her body, controlling the wheel of racing cars and common cars alike, feeling the wind on her face when she need adrenaline the most. It just so happens that when she is there, shaking on top of a seat, smiling behind a helmet, is when she is at the most control of her life.

She has never liked the color beige—it’s dull, it means an ‘in-between’, it’s the color an older couple wear before going to sleep on the same bed, the color of coffee early in the morning, an awakening of sorts that she has never brought herself to enjoy. It’s the reason why she liked the color of her lips to be burgundy, just like the blood on her veins and arteries, matching her clothing and contrasting with her black or white cars, always polished, needily repaired by her own hands. She needs to race, she had said when she was merely nineteen, going against any odds of going to college, of living a normal and comfortable life. A sport, she claims it is, but it is more than that…

It’s a way of living. An irresponsible, entertaining, worrisome and somewhat addictive way of living, existing, breathing, enjoying.

Fast had not been the perfect way to describe her rise to the Formula One infamous racing, much less was it smooth. To her odds, she had the fact that she was a woman—not the daughter of some racer, not a spoiled brat with parents rich enough to insert her into the list of racers, but just another lover of cars that prided too much on the leather of the seats of her old car and spent too much time with a machine to ever be able to describe it in minutes. Had it not been for the woman by her side, someone who completely understood the struggles of being part of something that is usually (and mistakenly) connected to men, she would have not been there.

Meeting Heejung was easy. With her body mostly hidden by the overalls of her mechanic shop and her love for changing cars into something different from their beginnings, it was bound for them to happen to meet. Heejung needed more clients, desired for someone to sport her brand one day...and she happened to crash her old Corolla in one of the many times she had gone out illegaly to race. Heejung did not utter a word, bleached hair seeking for life in that bun that she usually wore it in, the strands normally coated in oil, face filled with all the emotions in the world. At the time, Heejung had been almost a guardian angel—she took care of her when she was just beginning, getting noticed by more racers that had brought her to legal events instead, and whenever the adrenaline of rushing through life went too crazy on her head, she soothed out every bit of her ‘ride or die’ attitude.

No, she had not been a guardian angel for her. Heejung is her guardian angel, even now when she has finally reached a good spot in her career, enough to be able to be considered half a name in this industry. This is just the preparations of the main event, of the big Formula One race that everyone has been hyping up since last year, an introductory point for all the racers and a joy for brands that wanted to be sported by the figured of teenagers and adults alike. Her chest swelled with a feeling that made her feel full, taking in the air of pure contamination, smoke, nodding her head along to the sound of some rap song that is definitely looking to be the new sound of the summer. She felt like she belonged in there, with racers equal to her wearing uniforms with brand-names, though hers barely had any, showcasing the first smile of the night because who the fuck cares that she just got there in a Corolla, while everyone else had arrived in their sport cars?

Heejung releases a laugh behind her, quite girly for the way one would expect her to be, and she gripped the sides of her uniform to bring her closer to her front. Her back collided against Heejung’s chest, earning a soft huff from her. “Look at all these people. I can’t believe you actually made it to the point you can compete with our heroes.”

She lifts her nose at that, almost like a Queen would, looking ahead of her at the majority of the men there, some even women, all equally looking for the price of pride, money and most importantly, recognition. Fame was also needed in the world of adrenaline. “They are not our heroes anymore, Heejung. We have gone through this.” This kind of friendship comes from four years of being around each other. Indeed, a worker of Heejung’s mechanic shop is now a racer, the word of their small street and the reason why there are some posts about her shared in social media. A nobody, that is what she is, and yet, she feels like seeking for more. “They are our enemies now. We are looking for the grand prize—no, we are getting it.”

“Not with that attitude.” Heejung puckers up her mouth, pulling away from her friend and crossing her arms over her chest. “You need to be appealing to the public. Girly, flirty. You want to have a fan-base of horny men looking to spend their money on you. That’s how we rise on this business.”

The flickering lights of the paparazzi taking pictures of the people ahead of her, crowds and crowds piling up, had her moving forward in order to find someone who could recognize her. After all, she wants some appearances, even an interview, something that could get her name out there and make her savor the dream that she has fought so hard for. “I don’t do that kind of shit,” She mumbles, placing her hands inside her pockets as she walks. “I want to be respected, not lusted at.”

“Who said you can’t have both?” Heejung prompts, pushing her finger up in the air albeit with an idea. “Don’t think I’m telling you that you don’t have any talent. Quite the contrary. You’ll kick the ass of most people here, but if you have something to your advantage...why not take it?”

“Because you have said so yourself,” She points out, turning her head to the side to look at her friend. She scrunches up her nose, lowering her voice to match Heejung’s tone. “You attract the wrong kind of men. You don’t need a man to fuck you for one night. You need a man to fuck you with a ring on your finger that promises a forever. Some shit like that.”

“I said that once,” Heejung retorts, placing one hand over her heart. “And I did not mean for it to be so vulgar, but since that’s the only way you understand...”

“Heejung, I don’t need the attention of the male population to rise.” She argues, though this is just one of their conversations. One of those profound ones they used to have when they were having their morning coffee and Heejung would sigh in delight about her relationship with a fellow worker, Leo. Too in love, enough to make anyone puke, it was no wonder they had waited ten years in a relationship in order to get married. Quite cute if she was honest, just not her style. “Right now, if I happen to end up getting a guy, it’s because I want us to enjoy our time now. I don’t need a future.”

“What will you do once you’re old and wrinkly and alone?” Heejung questions, pushing through a group of people until they saw the booth of the magazine they were looking for. The biggest, yet most honest, magazine in the sports industry at the moment, of high interest for sponsors and for those who looked for respect as racers.

Her eyes almost seemed to be filled with stars and if she looked at herself, she swears she’d see a glint in them. Lips are pulled into a smirk, because she has rehearsed a big chunk of her life for this. She knows how to tuck her hair to the side and speak with authority, like she owns the place, as if her foot is heavy enough to run over the world itself. “I’ll get a Volkswagen and drive me the hell around town. That’s what I’m going to do. Enjoy my life.”

“You know what? Fair enough.” Heejung huffs, fixing her bun once again and leaving a few strands out, making her angled face look much softer with her thick lips pushed upwards. “I’ll stop having the friend talk and now I’m going to be your manager. I have various roles in your life.”

“I can already feel the rant—”

“Not only I am your manager and your friend, I’m also your mechanic. Your mom. Your nurse. Your sibling. Your brasswork assitant. I do everything for you. Publicist, too.” She huffs out before turning to look at her racer friend, taking her by the shoulders and releasing some pressure on the tense muscles. “There is a guy there, right, but we need to approach him as quickly as possible. He’s a journalist, the newest one—”

She quirks an eyebrow at that, trying to tease her friend. “How would you know that?”

“Leo knows him, remember? He went to college. I thought you knew he’s a journalist, either way—” Heejung closes her eyes tightly, as if scolding herself for talking too much before opening them once again. “His name is Matt. Well, Matt for short. He interviews just about anyone because he’s younger, much less important, and he releases some good articles online, including Instagram links. So we’re looking for him, I think he’s free right now.” Lacing her arms with Heejung’s, she feels her weight being dragged to get her to walk quicker. Heejung must be exercising more than her...or maybe she should just actually go for a walk instead of driving everywhere. “He’s the one seated there,” Heejung whispers once inside the publicity tent, pointing with her chin at one of the seats near the stage, the one that the most well-known racers used.

Actually, Matt is quite the unexpected sight. She expects some man with baggy pants and a Ferrari t-shirt, but instead she is welcomed by a lanky, tall man with glasses. Not weak looking at all, his brown gaze behind his glasses and his dull chocolate-hair just created contrast to him, wearing a sweater even when the amount of people there were enough to create body-heat for a million people. His camera hung around his neck and he seemed to be taking a breather, if his looking around is anything to go by, a notepad resting on his lap experly.

And yes, those are khakis. She definitely can see them now. She shouldn’t be afraid of someone like him, yet something about him exuded professionalism. Maybe, Heejung is right. Maybe, she should have tried to be a better actress instead of binging videos of the racers she looks up to, because a flutter of her eyelids and a much cleaner mouth could work to her favor here. Damn it for having the mouth of an angry ninety-year-old woman and for using too many profanities in her speech, because Heejung is suddenly walking her towards the man and she is starting to feel a tad bit nervous.

Which is strange, for someone who never gets nervous about anything—dates, due-dates and even racing through the smallest of streets in the highest of speeds—, she surely feels like her food must return from its trip at any given minute and end up on this man’s khakis.

“Hi, are you Matt?” Heejung asks softly, extending her hand for the man to take and he lifts his gaze from his notepad, finally seeing a bit of his smile on his delicate features.

“Yes. May I know who you are? I wasn’t actually waiting for anyone—” Matt speaks, voice filled with the seriousness that she had expected, that monotone voice that reminded her that this was a serious situation. What she said or didn’t could be recorded and used against her at any given moment.

“I’m Leo’s wife! He told me he had spoken to you so you could interview my client.” Heejung speaks with a smile on her face, wrapping her arm around her shoulder and shaking her slightly, like a mother who is proudly showing off that her daughter can race...and shouldn’t be proud of it. “She’s in the line-up for the race and pretty new, so a head start would work in our favor so much.”

Matt stands up at that, grasping the camera in between his fingers as recognition filled his face. “Ah yes, Leo,” Heejung seems to be delighted at the sound of her man’s name. Huh, so maybe love does work for some people and she just happens to be one of those who it had not worked for. “I remember him quite fondly. We used to hang out a lot in the printing room...since he worked there, you know, he’d sneak in some papers and wouldn’t ask me for more money.”

Well, that sounds exactly like the Leo who could spend his entire night in the shop if it meant pleasing every client, even if the car has no chance of being brought to life. “That’s delightful.”

Matt looks at her, at her silent, statue-like stance and she wonders why she hasn’t spoken, hasn’t used that confidence of hers to introduce herself, so she does. Or tries to, her hands are a bit clammy—though, if asked, she’d blame it on the weather—and her voice shakes when she says her name out loud. “I’m a huge fan of your magazine...and your work is amazing, too. Only have gotten a few glimpses, though, but I’m fucking glad I did.” Heejung nudges her side and had she looked at her, she knew she would widen her eyes because obscenities in a sentence aren’t pretty and because she hasn’t actually read anything from him.

Or if she has...she doesn’t know.

Oh God, what if he asks what her favorite article of his is?

Though, Matt’s smile reaches his eyes, taking his pen out of the pocket of his dark blue sweater, clicking it and writing her name down on the small notebook. “Haven’t gotten that in a while. As a writer in a magazine, you barely get any recognition.”

“It happens.” She whispers, lifting her head when Matt looks at her and giving him a tight smile. Tight and fake smile, because she is far too casual for these types of things. She can’t come up with a story, taken out of her ass, about how her racing abilities came from some bonding experience when she was a child or because she had to find a way to escape from her reality. The truth is...she did it because she felt like it, because her desire to be on edge surpassed any rational thought. She had taken a car, pressed on the pedal too hard and liked it. Then, her own thrive was what led her to be there.

“So—”

“Matt!” The boisterous voice of a man, albeit shorter than Matt himself and visibly older, more pompous, had interrupted the guy’s speech before he could start interviewing her and his posture straightened when the loud man came over to hug him, gripping him for a few minutes and lifting him up his feet just in time to hear more masculine, definitely smoother laughter. The source of the voice catches her attention, making her look just to catch a glimpse of exactly who should have not been there at that time. “Wonho is here for the interview. What are you doing there losing time?! My guy finished an interview early to give you your article.”

“O-Oh—” Matt utters, unhooking himself from the hug and sending an apologetic glance at the two women in front of him. “Better not make him wait, then.”

Wonho greets him with a handshake, looking at her from the corner of his eyes and sending a charming smile her way, along with Heejung’s. This is the dream client for someone like Heejung, definitely a people pleaser. “No, don’t worry. Do your thing, I’ll wait.”

Matt shakes his head, perhaps tranced from the thick muscles and the soft scent that belonged to Wonho, but she doesn’t forget the way he easily dismisses her existence and Heejung’s with a quick: “They can wait! Let’s just start your interview.”

The rockstar of cars, the biggest, the loveliest Formula One racer, the same one that had every racer shaking on their feet, winner of last year, owned by magazines and brands. Oh, she knows his name—even past his artistic one, he calls himself Wonho when on his zone, on his own stage, but when he is out of racing, he is Lee Hoseok. With ashy black hair that often hides under his helmet, once off falling down his smooth forehead, giving life to his dark and understanding eyes, smile worth a trillion more than hers will ever. The muscles are definitely a plus, surely, enough to catch her gaze when he turns around and moves along Matt and his manager.

Nice ass, she thinks, still belonging to the enemy, so that deems it not worthy of her interest.

Someone like him doesn’t have to wait, not when he makes everyone swoon with the red color of the tip of his big ears whenever he is feeling a bit shy. Not when his voice is charming, dragging on certain syllables, using the ‘s’ at his favor to make it sound more profound. Charming, that he is, exactly what she lacks and maybe, that is what this Formula One race is looking for.

They want someone to stand in the cover of magazines holding their brand. They want someone who appeals to a bigger audience.

Or wanted, now they’ll want her talent. No matter how against the rules she is in the world of publicism.

“You know what, I don’t need to wait. Much less do I need to be disrespected like this.” She mumbles, tightening the zipper of her uniform and bringing it up to her neck, licking the inside of her cheek as she moves towards the set of cars, the real racing cars, where in about twenty minutes they’ll make some demonstration for people to feel more hyped for the main event. In a week, and yet making her feel high on adrenaline.

Heejung is following behind her, sneakers dragging against the concrete and pushing through the groups of people. “W-Wait. No, we’ll have to wait. Yes or yes.”

“I’ll teach Matt that I’m better than that Wonho guy.” She releases into the air, turning around just in time to catch Heejung in her arms when their chests collided together.

“Don’t—Don’t be making enemies already!”

“He’s not my enemy, per se, I’ll change the term.” She says. “He’s my rival. I accept he’s a fine piece of ass and that he’s an excellent racer but—” She cuts herself off, catching her helmet as Leo throws it her way, also one of her team. “I either win or I win. There’s no in-between.”

At first, the sentiment is too fast for her to catch it. Twenty minutes later, she is seated inside her small racing car, waiting for that one signal that starts it all. A noise and then, she simply steps on the pedal, wishing for everyone ahead of her to simply leave her alone. It starts at her feet, as if electricity is brought from any shake of the device, going up her calves and her legs, releasing all sort of tension from them and bringing a sense of purpose to her gut. She finally feels like she is complete, a smile behind her mask when she turns on a corner, when she hears the engine roar to life, as animalistic as it can get. She can’t think, she doesn’t have enough time to, looking at the quickened faces that she can’t make out, but mostly at the road ahead of her. Gray, a color that she loves, very welcomed behind her fiery eyes, feisty when she stops hearing the noise of other cars from up close. That must mean she is first or has finished as last.

Someone is by her side, then appearing in front of her in his own racing car. Black uniform, broad shoulders and those bunch of sponsor names written on the fabric, enough to have his life secured in his rich lifestyle. She knows who this man is, the one trying to pass by her, the same one that makes it insufferable to look to her right when all the cameras are flashing to take a picture of him. The God of racing, Lee Hoseok.

Wonho.

She needs to beat him.

She steps harder on the pedal, as if she could, feeling the sole of her feet shoot an ache up her calf, moving her steering wheel until she is by his side. She plays around a bit with the pedal, wanting the car to be nosy as it passes by him again, this time around not caring so much about the beauty of her turns but simply wanting to get to the end line. She does, apparently, but not in enough time to beat Hoseok’s car, who simply passes by her in a millisecond, as if he had caught up on her technique.

He probably did, he is definitely not stupid. He uses that smile of his, sweet and deliciously charming, to his favor.

Anger has her throwing her helmet on the floor once she gets out of the car. A tantrum, yes, but hidden by the way she places her hands on her hips and breathes in deeply. Anyone that looked at her, at the fucking second place that she is right now, would think she is just tired and for the sake of Heejung not giving her an earful, she better act like she is, but when she looks at Hoseok, he is already looking at her. Chuckling slightly, his shoulders shake when he lifts his hand up to greet his crowd. People cheer for him, watch as he nears her and extends his hand for her to take. Over the noise, she can make out the sound of his dulcet voice when he says:

“I don’t know what I was expecting from you, but you’re way better than anyone could have ever imagined. Good job.” Oh, of course he had to be nice. He just had to. Something about him had to be topped by his outgoing personality, like he’ll always make you feel like you belong, smooth with the way he speaks. For a moment, she feels like falling for it, and she half does, but the bigger part of herself is the one that makes her hand go forward, grasp him with such force that even a gym-rat like him stumbles forward, bumping her shoulder with his to make a statement when she speaks, loud and clear, enough to reach the ears of whoever is around them. Press or not.

“Just wait until I win over you on the night of the race. I’ll do a better job then.” Hoseok’s eyebrows lift at that, holding his helmet to his side, pressed to his waist when he sees a smile appear on her face. The contact of his hand had been so soft, almost tender in comparison of her rough hands from so much working, but she couldn’t think twice about his charms.

Only that she did. Something about winning against him was...thrilling. No one could stop her if she got the Lee Hoseok, the one and only, to give her a second glance. His smile doesn’t falter, instead he continues the conversation.

“I can’t wait.” Hoseok announces, biting his bottom lip and looking to the sides, chuckling a bit to himself.

“Don’t laugh so much. You’ll be begging me to hang out with you once that night is over.” She can hear the shouts of Heejung inside her brain, like she is telling her that this is going to be bad press but who is she kidding? This is what she wants...and possibly, what those gossip-thirsty people want.

“Huh, even if you don’t win, I might.” Those words she did not expect, almost making her smile falter but it only presses harder, the light behind her eyes changing as if they were alone in that people-packed world. His eyes connect with her, the depths of them showing a saint but reading a hidden...sin, almost like he is an angel with dark wings.

Maybe he is, but she’ll make sure to figure it out.

“Got you interested?”

He shrugs. “Maybe.” He answers, before putting his helmet on again. “Next time around, though, just some advice.” His sweetened tone held a smile, she could feel it, much more when he takes her hand again and lets his thumb rub the back of it, more delicate than she could ever be. Perhaps, they are actually polar opposites, connected by the idea of proving which one is better. They want to rule over the other, acting upon attraction, tethering into playful banter. “Don’t throw a tantrum. It’s a cute look, not a good one.”

And with that, he leaves. His manager is talking to him as he speaks, once again pleasing the paparazzi that are asking for him, asking for more and more of Lee Hoseok and she stands there, ignored, no one compared to the master of racing. When she turns, however, Heejung is already making grabby-hands at her neck, fingers curling against each other and showing what seems to be frustration.

Uh-oh.

...Maybe flirting in front of hundreds of people was actually not a good idea.

But when has she ever had one of those?

🚗

With her back pressed to the mechanic’s creeper, knees bent and one of her hands holding a flashlight up to the bottom of the car whilst the other is working diligently, she realizes that she never really follows the rules. If ever. While everyone in the mechanic shop is wearing their overalls perfectly, zipped up, coated in oil and black tints plastered all over the fabric, she has the long sleeves of her overalls wrapped around her waist, her white tank top silently asking for mercy thanks to all the dirt that has now accumulated over her chest. Not that she can bring herself to care, much less when she is on her fourth cup of coffee of the morning, excited to get her car to start working after dying on her while in her way back to her house.

Someone must have noticed the lack of coffee, because Leo starts the coffee machine right after asking his wife: “Babe, did you finish this coffee? I left it full just an hour ago.”

Okay, so maybe the grand night of the Formula One race was getting closer and her need of coffee comes from the fact that she hasn’t slept very well. Or at all. The ache behind her eyelids is painful when she tries to concentrate on the little, smallest pieces of the car, almost like a surgeon who is looking for that exact mistake that has been bothering the entire body. Someone had noticed the reason as to why there is no more coffee in the shop, though. “I didn’t finish it, but I know who did.” The thud of Heejung’s foot against her calf makes her let out a breath in surprise, a smile appearing on her face soon after. “Say sorry to Leo, you big child.”

“I’m sorry, Leo!” She utters from under the car, unable to contain the giggles that bubble up from her chest. This is what happiness is about, feeling the crispy sun entering from the open gates of the shop, hearing the coffee brewing as quickly as it can, smelling like old cars and leather seats. This is not a world of Maserati’s and rains of money, but it will be one day. She’s hopeful, loyal, waiting for the time she can finally glow to her fullest potential. If she doesn’t sleep before this race, however, she won’t even be able to win.

“Don’t scold her so much.” Leo adds in that sweetened tone of his and she can imagine the sweet-looking man with the rounded cheeks nudging his wife’s side. “She’s under a lot of pressure.”

“You know more than anyone that I love her with my entire heart,” And she is certain Heejung really does such thing. No one wakes up at midnight to help their friend out pushing her car back home. No one becomes a manager of their best friend who is far too stubborn for her own good. No one would have done that, for her or for anyone like her, driving through a dead-end street for the sake of their friendship. “...But she does this even if she is not about to race for Formula One.”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not in the room.” She says, somewhat scared that they’d realize just how nervous she is. Shaken to the core, not because of her abilities, she trusts those, but because there is someone better than her already...Lee Hoseok, who in the little publicity stunt had sat her back down on her place, as if she was insignificant and while she knows he did it simply to tease her, one of his tactics coming from the electricity between them, she still feels somewhat...thoughtful.

Enraged, but the kind of enraged that has her smiling when she realizes that—huh, Lee Hoseok is the type of man to have the sweetest smile in the world, yet be endlessly honest.

For a moment, she gets tranced in her own car. This old thing that she had bought with money that should have gone for her rent, but back then she didn’t know any better. It just screamed for her to own it, mostly because it reminded her of one of the first few magazines she had peeked at when her interest in cars and racing grew. It’s from the nineties, surely, it looks like it belongs to that era, but some classics never really get ancient. Nonetheless, nowadays it was difficult to keep it up its feet. With the money she has earned from precious races, though still not as big as what she’d earn does she win the race that’ll take place in three days, she has been able to make it look somewhat decent. Still, the engine is a headache and underneath, it looks as if it had been hit a thousand times before she bought it.

Probably true, but the most gorgeous of things are filled with memories of hardships.

The moment grows larger, longer, keeping her under the car more than necessary, only getting out when she needs to try out the car to no avail. At some point, her back is aching so badly that it cracks when she gets on the creeper again, the smell of coffee long gone, Leo now on his third car of the day and Heejung must be somewhere, but she can’t bring herself to look for her right now. When she bites down on her bottom lip, doing a few arrangements that will take her to the exact position her car should be in, she hears the sound of thick, dense boots kicking against the concrete of their shop, whoever this is stood by the side of her car, leaving him with a view of the black, stylish boots said man wore for the afternoon. Whoever this is has a tough walk, strong muscles and—

“Uh, good afternoon. May I have your help? My car just died on me right now, the engine is not even roaring and I had to push it all the way here.” That voice, angelic but with an edge, not pompous although he is a man of wealth, somewhat humble as well. The delicate lisp that gives out that this is Lee Hoseok. The...rival that is now in her quarter, in her zone, asking for help from no other than her own team.

She’d roll out from underneath the car, but she is hiding. Seeing him would mean that she’d up saying something competitive, yet stupidly romantic and flirty because there is something about him that she wants to have, own even for the slightest of seconds. Luckily for her, the man doesn’t seem to be paying attention to her, instead listening to the sound of Heejung’s voice.

“Ah, yes. We’ll gladly help you. Is your car out there? I’m free right now.” Heejung is political. She knows how to speak and how to do it, unlike her. She can imagine the smile on her face and from the distance, she hears Leo stopping with whatever job he was doing.

“Yeah, it’s parked out there. Sorry, I couldn’t bring it here, I had to push it for too long...” Even he apologizes, sweetening her mouth and leaving it in the back of her tongue. This is the kind of person Lee Hoseok is...and it’s so thrilling to see that someone of his caliber either is perfect at being fake or is incredibly nice. Soon after, he gives a small chuckle, resting his arm against her precious car when he speaks out her name along with Heejung’s. “Wait, you’re her manager, right? I read about the two of you in the line-up. I didn’t think you’d own a mechanic shop.”

“Uh, I, yes—She’s—” Heejung is trying to look for words, because in her immense intelligent, publicitary head, she probably thinks Hoseok is holding a grudge against her. He may, actually.

“And that’s another guy from her team. I saw him with her that same night we raced.” Hoseok points out, now moving his legs slightly as he trails his gaze across the room. She sees his feet moving now, keeping her legs out of underneath the car, peeking like a monster under a kid’s bed. “So...that leaves us to believe the one person under the car must be your client, I suppose.”

Dang it. He’s not as stupid as one would have imagined he is, granted the prince-like title he holds in the racing industry. She clears her throat, placing the flashlight down on her abdomen before looking up at the car, as if it was the sky and she was looking for answers there. “Is there anything I can do for you, Wonho?”

“Not really,” He says, the car shaking slightly when he rests his weight over the hood of it and if he dares bend it the slightest, she’ll have to use the power of her friend also being her legal representation. Heejung is just the biggest chunk of her life in what consists of individuals. “But it’s pretty funny. You’re hiding from me now, when you were about to eat me alive in the race.”

One thing that she does not do is hide. Even under the helmets, the layers of clothing she uses for racing, even from the cameras...she never hides. There is nothing she should be embarrassed of, prideful of her work as prideful can get, so to say that is a bang to her chest, an immediate response that has her moving her legs forward, bending her knees to bring the creeper out from underneath, face finally getting a fresh gush of air to stop her heated cheeks and to dry the glint of sweat that rests upon her arms and chest. “I’m not hiding. Never have I ever consider hiding from you.”

Hoseok smiles, laughs when he straightens his back to look at her, inspecting her flustered face that doesn’t come from him or his malicious comments, all dressed in angel clothing, but from the heat. “I know, I’m just teasing.” He sweetly conquers, pointing at her while exchanging a glance with Heejung. “Can’t she fix my car? She looks like she knows what she is doing.”

She stands up then, thanks to the hand he extends for her to take, his soft touch still a contrast of how she thought he’d be. It takes her three steps to be inside her car, turning the key in the ignition and watching it come to life when a smile appears on her face. “I don’t look like I know what I am doing. I really do know what to do with cars.” She rests her forearms on the steering wheel, speaking loudly when she quirk an eyebrow at Hoseok. “Why? Haven’t fixed one in your life?”

She hears Heejung shouting her name as a scolding, but Hoseok simply kneels the slightest, looking at her from the open windows. He tilts his head to the side. “I used to. I don’t think I do anyone, I just get them fixed.”

“Just accept you want me to waste time on your car instead of spending it practicing for the race.” She tuts him, only to watch the smirk fall from his face, lips parting along the same time his eyebrows lift in surprise.

“I would never do that.” He truthfully says, interlocking his fingers in front of him, cladded in rings that she has taken a glimpse of. He doesn’t make it easy, the soft tone of his voice that reaches the deps of her ribs, moves them out of their place with each quickened breath she takes to calm herself down. For someone who protects, shelters herself from the world with an attitude of stubbornness and recklessness, he seems to have some power over her. Sensitivity exists within her soul whenever he is around, calming it down, giving it a dose of whatever his eyes give out. It is a complete different ordeal than the pumping of her heart when he challenges her. “I just want to see how you do, that’s all. No second intentions. I could even pay ahead. I don’t have cash with me right now, but I have my card...what do you want me to buy you?”

She unlocks the doors of her car, nodding along to his words. “Alright, buy me a Lamborghini Veneno.” The item is worth millions, the reason why Hoseok’s shoulders shake in the wheeze he lets out, looking at her with surprise in his expression.

“No, be serious!”

“I’m serious.” She says, leaning forward until their faces are just centimeters away. “Buy me my Lamborghini and I’ll fix your car.”

Hoseok takes his wallet out, waving it in front of her face with a gentle smile on his sweet features. He knows what he is doing, he has to, and she finds herself smiling as well when the air around them is too thick for the two of them to breathe together. The oxygen is lacking, her eyes inspecting his features, from his plush lips to the length of his dark eyelashes, the piercings that rest on his earlobes and shine against the sunlight romantically. “What about coffee and pastries? You get to drive me there and practice. I also pay you while I see what you’re all about in a real car.”

She steals a glance at Heejung, the kind of face that is telling her not to do it, because she knows exactly what her intentions are. This is the kind of people she always seek for, the ones that give her adrenaline, pump her up with the chase of finding someone, the game of connecting with another person before the fire dulls down. Heejung’s face is framed by her messy hair, shaking her head at her but she ignores it, pointing at the passenger seat with her thumb as she instructs Hoseok: “Get in the passenger seat if you want to know what a real racer looks like.”

“Why? Am I look at myself in the mirror?” Hoseok asks, not giving her time to answer as he walks in front of her car, enough for her to detail the black tee and the matching, tight pants with roaming eyes before he is seated by her side, putting his seatbelt on at the same time as her.

“Buckle up. You’ll need it.”

She notices at that moment, when she steps on the pedal with expertise and excellence, that Hoseok looks at life differently. He feels everything in a different manner, showcased by the way his hands grip to his sides, a shriek leaving his lips just in time for a smile to reach his cheeks. She takes that much in from a glance at him, rounding around his car and getting out of the street that leads to the mechanic shop, leaving a cloud of dust and smoke behind them. Her car is back to its normality, how she knows it, making her hum in delight when the radio turns up with the usual station that accompanies her late night adventures and someone as grand as Hoseok, as delightful in the racing industry, seems surprised when she goes about the streets as if she doesn’t care. She doesn’t, actually, she’ll stop when she feels like the police would catch her.

“Your foot is heavy, oh my God!” Hoseok comments, chuckles leaving his broad chest when she takes one glance over at him, slowing down when she reaches farther from the mechanic shop, more people coming into view, less known than her usual neighbors.

“I came to this life just to play. That’s all.” She answers, her voice more audible now that she has slowed down, smoothly gliding her hands against the steering wheel until her elbow is resting on the opened window, fist pressed to her cheek, looking ahead. “So, I get to pick the coffee place?”

“Whatever you want,” When she gives him a side-eye, she catches him staring, a big smile on his face when he does. “Yeah, wherever you want.”

A few streets ahead, her favorite coffee shop sells the most delicious of pastries and from the bitter taste that was left from her lunch, she’ll need something sweet. Something quite like Lee Hoseok in this eventful afternoon. “Even hell? Because man, I can really take you there—”

“You’re not a demon.” He answers, leaning back on his seat when he breaks his gaze away from her. “You’re more angelic than you think you are.”

“Oh yes, of course, something about almost making you fall in front of everyone in a race and saying more curse words in a sentence than any other person could just speaks angelic.” She sarcastically prompts, straightening her back and chuckling. “I’m not even a demon. I could be Satan herself.”

“Satan is a man.”

“Who told you that?” She asks, stopping the car right in front of the coffee shop before smiling. “I’m very much a woman.”

Hoseok is amused, she sees it in the way he gets out of the car as quickly as she does, following after her with laughter bubbling from his chest. “What is it with you and this image you have going on? Are you really this reckless or are you doing it to be interesting?”

“I don’t know, Wonho, Hoseok...Formula One loser, is it interesting to you?” She asks, standing right in front of the door of her favorite coffee place to see that it is closed. A pout wants to overtake her lips, though she simply points at the sign that reads they are closed for today thanks to technical difficulties.

“Very.” He says, his shoulder pressing to hers when he looks around the street, hands hidden in his pockets before he points with his chin towards a bakery. “That looks like a good place for pastries. I owe you the coffee, but hey, at least I got you to go out to a place with me without having you threaten me.”

She smiles, walking right by his side towards the bakery, one that is just next to another one, the separation in between them clear when the colors are completely different, one more exquisite and expensive looking, the other more humbled and beige-colored. “If you’re wondering, though, it’s really not an act. I’m this kind of person every day and every night.”

Hoseok makes the decision to open the door to the beige-colored bakery, earning a pointed look from the delivery man on the black bakery, who immediately stands up when he hears the sound of laughter coming from one of the workers in the bakery. She hears a name, Kihyun, but she doesn’t pay much attention to their conversation as she gets further inside the place.

“...Also, if you really wanted to go out with me, you could’ve just asked.” She answers, shrugging her shoulders when Hoseok asks:

“Would you have said no?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you figure it out?”

In that small bakery, eating bites of the sweetest of meals, she learns that Hoseok’s image is somewhat fabricated, made to be the cocky and powerful racer that everyone admires. Beneath that, there is a softer soul, someone whose love for racing goes deeper than any magazine could ever showcase. She wasn’t wrong when she said they were polar opposites.

🚗

Her sponsor is quite the brand.

...It’s good for her, at least, somewhat productive.

Energy buzzes through her; it comes in sharp movements of her legs, in the jumping of her feet, in the way she goes from one corner to the other of the booth in which her team stays in. Leo, Heejung and a few other of her friends. The reason as to why she is so electrified, as if thunder had gone through her body, penetrating on every cell, is perpetually written on her uniform, the only sponsor she has. An energy drink company, good enough to have her pupils dilated as she waits for the race to start, a few pictures sent her way and in most pictures, anyone can probably notice the sweat that pools on her forehead and the frenzied look on her face.

Nervousness is not a good look. It doesn’t belong to her, either, she is not the type to get extremely nervous—but the race is finally upon her, the taste of the Formula One title lingering on the back of her tongue, only heightening her ambition when she sees the amount of racers there. In her little rendezvous of hatred with Hoseok, she had completely forgotten that there are other racers there; equally as hardworking, as good, as rich or ambitious as she wants to be. This led to drinking ehr first energy drink early in the morning, almost like breakfast, downing it in one go and now, at this hour of the afternoon, she has already had too many energy drink to even count.

She grips Heejung’s forearm, resting one foot on the floor at a time in her small jumping-dance, ridiculous to anyone who would be looking at her. She feels like she is back to when she was a child and couldn’t go to the bathroom herself. “Jung, I really need to pee. Like, so bad.”

Heejung’s face grows stoic, almost too serious, tugging at her sleeve to get her attention once again. This time, her manager and best friend turns to look at her with a sigh. “Then, just go to the bathroom!”

“But what if the race starts soon?” She worries, the whine in her tone something that she is not accustomed to. The acoustics of the place bring her on the edge, apparently, listening to too many voices, music that is too loud, making her feel out of place, compared to how excited she is most of the time—ready to take over the world. “Heejung!”

“You should have thought about that when you were drinking another can of energy drinks—” She replies before patting the racer’s shoulder. “Just go, it won’t take you more than two minutes and you still have time. Go.”

“Are you sure?”

“...You can always pee your pants inside your car, either way. Don’t go, it’s fine with me.” Heejung sarcastically adds, watching as she pats her best friend’s shoulder quickly to get some of the tension off her body, adrenaline rushing too quickly through her veins.

“Don’t be an asshole. I’m going to pee. Wait for me here, okay? Scream my name if the race starts.”

“Or I could just call you.”

“Great idea, that too!”

Unusual must not be the adjective she was looking for when she heard a knock on the door of the bathroom, open for anyone to enter. By that time, she is washing her hands, splashing some of the leftover water on her face and patting her cheeks quickly, albeit a bit harshly, to get any kind of anxiousness out of her system. The person outside knocks the door again, something that has her screaming out a ‘it’s open!’ into the thin air. No one listens, or they don’t understand her, making her huff as she pats her hands on the backside of her uniform, walking towards the door and opening it with her elbows—hygiene first, she tells herself—but once she is about to come face to face with the annoying woman at the door, she realizes it is not a woman at all.

You see, this is very much a man.

Someone she knows, not like the back of her hand, but at moments like these she wishes she did.

His image is pristine. He’s the sweet man of the Formula One; the person who makes everyone feel special, after all, with some titles under his name and some questionable friends, but beyond anything, people consider him sacred. A sanctified sin, she’d call him, much more in the way he looks currently. His dark hair falls upon his forehead, thin eyebrows covered and his eyes darker than ever. There seems to be a hint of makeup on his skin, his lips are rosier than ever, calling out for dignification the moment he calls out her name with a smile on his face.

Not to talk about the way her eyes dart towards his body, elegance as is with the way his uniform has a the zipper a bit low, giving a glimpse his chest, his workout routine noticeable in everything about him. The star of the night, however, is the grin he gives her when he dumbly adds: “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Well, I’m a contestant. Of course I’m here.” She points out, catching the way his cheeks light up under the bright lights of the place they are in. “Are your nerves getting the best of you? Because I could grab one of the lollipops inside the girl’s bathroom and give it to you.” She looks up and down at him, biting down her bottom lip after shrugging her shoulders. “There’s no shame if that’s why you were knocking.”

Hoseok, now in his Wonho persona, covers his embarrassment with a chuckle. “I’m not nervous.”

“I am.” She confesses. “...But either way, that must be the twenty energy drinks I just had.” She teases, laughing at her own joke before sighing, resting her hands inside the pockets of her uniform. “Can I help you out with anything?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and she invites herself not to look down. It’d be weak of her to show that she is affected by him, much more when they are minutes away from knowing who the winner of this little internal fight they’ve had is. “Actually, I was looking for you because I may have gotten you an interview with the biggest racing magazine in the industry.”

“Huh?” She says, pointing in between them before scoffing. “You—Me? Wait? Interview? No one wants to interview me.”

Protection is the best policy. The thought of not being wanted in a world that she has tried her hardest to be part of is heartbreaking; sometimes, she finds herself wondering if she’ll ever make it. Wanting to is one thing, actually doing it is another. In this case, Hoseok leans against the nearest wall, looking at her with a faint grin on his face. “At first, they only wanted me there but I said I would not give them an interview if they didn’t give you a chance.”

She slaps her hands against her thighs, falling thanks to gravity. This is something new—Hoseok is just the type of man to adore attention, or so she had thought. He couldn’t possibly do something like this...right? “No way you did or said that. There’s no way.”

“But I did.” Hoseok finishes, his face softening when he lets out a sigh. “Even if I come up last tonight, I’ll still get interviews and sponsorships. Your career is still starting, I don’t want you feeling discouraged just because of the lack of attention from the public.”

She raises her eyebrows at that, battling the stone in her soul, finding out if she can still keep up that confident persona of hers when in reality, Hoseok has simply given a one-in-a-time opportunity. Heejung would be thrilled, until she heard that it was from Hoseok. Something about him was rather gravitational, both good and bad, like she wanted to be closer but she knew it was impossible for them to ever become one. Why? Just a sixth sense.

“Mhm, I see.” She hums, getting closer to him and looking up at his eyes, which are now glistening when the air in between them is shared. Hoseok may be adrenaline at its finest, the feeling of sneaking in at night behind her family and feeling alive again. He reminds her of the tests in which she cheated in and the thrill of getting caught made her feel powerful. Fearless, some called her, obsessed with feeling alive to the point she’d do anything to have her heart palpitating more than it should. If she can get that from Hoseok, why not use it to her favor? “Thank you.” Though, she speaks from the heart, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and breathing in the scent of him.

Hoseok’s fingers delve into her waist, until they land on the curve of her spine. Even her bones are fidgety, caused by the energy on her system or the thankfulness for him. For a nice soul to exist in such a place. “A-Ah, you’re welcome.” He composes himself quickly. As if the poer of her is not enough to trance him. His fingers trail up her back when she pulls away, grasping the edges of her hair before they are off her ambience. “You better get going. I sent them to your booth and I think they must be waiting for you. The race starts in twenty minutes.”

“Okay, noted.” She replies, giving a few steps forward before turning around, walking backwards whilst speaking to him. “You know, at this rate, you’re really going to end up getting in my good list, Wonho.”

“Can’t end up where I already am.” He sneakily adds, clever beyond what anyone would have imagined before he waves his hand in the air. “See you after the race.”

“Let’s see who is winner by then.”

The interview is, apparently, what she needed to feel better. A camera pointed to her face, a microphone in front of her lips and questions that take her into consideration as a possible winner for the race, just like anyone else. This is a dream beyond fame, of strength instead, of being able to live a fun life without the reigns of responsibility. Sometimes, she wonders if she’ll have to grow out of this mindset—the fear of getting older is not as strong as losing her eternal youth, the essence of her. This is what she has always dreamed of; she confirms.

It’s more of a reality when Leo and Heejung are no longer in sight, when her thighs are pressed to the smaller car in which she is in, helmet secured in place, hands holding onto the steering wheel. She wishes she could have a mirror at that moment, because Hoseok is parked not too far away, testing his engine, letting it roar. She looks over her shoulder, seeing a slit of his eyes behind the helmet, though by the way they crinkle he is smiling.

She has never quite been this affected by anyone, like she needs to win in order to gain some attention. From the public. From the magazines, the TV shows, the man that everyone adores.

It’s no longer about dethroning him. It’s a state of graceful competition, igniting a fire of attraction, of wanting to push his buttons to get a reaction.

When the race stars, she realizes this is all she has known. When she was a teenager and she would take her friend’s car out for a ride, not caring that the wind blew too hard on her hair or that she couldn’t see properly with the speed she was going in. When she fell in love too quickly, too hard, like she needs to feel alive for once, feel like she has the reigns of starting a fire and dulling it at the same time. Stepping on the engine is necessary, it’s the only way she prove that she is more than just a forgettable woman in the background. The stakes are clear—money, wealth, fame, all of those combine into something stronger. Shades of greed, it’s red—it has never belonged to passion, either way—, everything she sees is suddenly blurring into wanting more and more and more.

It’s dangerous to never get enough or have enough. She breathes more calmly the more she races, when she sees cars stepping behind her, when everything is about sensing where she is located. For a moment, she can’t help but smile. Those who criticized her would never realize that this, on itself, is a form of art. Racing includes the music of life—an engine, the cheering of the crowd; that makes her a performer. Racing also partakes in speed, precise enough to save her own life, the glide of her hands on the steering wheel leaving an imprint on the concrete. That makes her an artist.

At some point, it’s not about winning anymore. It’s about getting noticed in this unstoppable moment of life, so when she sees the endline, she blurs everyone that is around her. She has raced for the world to see, for TV programs to take her into consideration, for the first time she gets to be clapped at instead of called out for her irresponsibility. Her feet steps harder on the pedal, braving it all when she reaches the endline. Once her car comes to a halt, smoke trailing behind it, she gets out, taking off her helmet and inspecting everyone to be over Hoseok.

The Lee Hoseok, Formula One sweetheart, the man whose eyes are now on her when people rush towards her instead.

“And the Formula One welcomes a new winner…!” Someone announces in the background, in a microphone to be exact and when she feels herself being lifted into the air by her team, she parts her lips and lets out a squeal, hands pressing into her chest to revive herself.

It strangely feels like being born again, like she spoke into existence that she’d be someone of importance. It was either this or social death. The fight was worth going through, because for the first time in her life: she had an actual title.

Formula One winner. Not a disgrace of society that wants to destroy everything at her reach.

Heejung is the one to coach her through it; from the interviews to the actual presentation to the press. Most of the time, she clings into Heejung’s hand, trying not to speak atrocities and ruin her moment, but Hoseok is not too far away. Either way, winning or not, Hoseok had done excellently and money was still going to his bank account, leaving most people bitter at his loss—or almost winning, like some would call it. When questions are thrown his way, she turns to look at him, seated in the same stage as her, talking effortlessly and elegantly. He looks unbothered, throwing a few glances her way, parting his legs until his thighs are in contact with hers.

Winning recognition and money on the long run is one thing. There are things she wants in this life that are not worth money.

Hoseok, for example, is one of those desired adrenaline rushes she gets.

When the interview is over and she is about to go over to the parking lot to leave for a celebration with her team, she feels someone tugging at her arm, soon after her neck is caged under someone’s arm, strong, comfortable, quite cushion-y. The touch is foreign, making her look up to see Hoseok’s face, who chuckles at her reaction when he lets her go.

“Great game,” He starts. “Learn this date like the palm of your hand. You’ll want to remember the day you became a star.”

She laughs at that, nodding her head at his words. “First day of actually feeling like what I do is worth something.”

Hoseok’s eyes soften at that, his face turning to the side when flashes are felt around them. Someone must be taking pictures of the best two racers of the night. “You’ll be big, I can feel it. That arrogance you claim to have is only towards me, so I am guessing you’re just trying to tease me.” He says, observational of how she had been with everyone else.

“...You’re my biggest rival here, after all.”

“You mean to say: was?”

“You still are. I’ll see you next season”

He hums. “Why not see each other sooner?” The question is spoken into the air, his dark eyes looking into hers. Is brown the shade of wrong or right? Is a man with a smile like that, like he’ll take her breath away with a simple swoop of his lips against hers, troublesome or not? She can’t bring herself to care, much less when she nears him, placing a hand over his arm and dragging it down until it cages his in a faint hold, letting go as she speaks.

“What are you prompting?” She questions, watching the tips of Hoseok’s ears turning red.

“A race...but with dinner before that, and possibly no race at all.” He makes himself crack up, earning a laugh from her own as she nods her head.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just scared I’ll win again.”

“I’ve won against you once already.” He prompts, something that has her shrugging.

“Guess we’ll have to figure out with another race...with dinner before that, though.” She says, not noticing that Hoseok’s team is nearby, howling at the words in between them, exchanged playfully.

“Wonho has got a crush!”

“Get it, Hoseok!”

Hoseok extends his hand, almost business-like. “So, a race...not a date?”

She grasps his hand, shaking it with a smile on her face. “A race, not a date.” She conquers, placing her hands behind her back and moving backwards, once again. Why can’t she just turn her back to him. “You already have my number. Give me the details, okay?”

...Because this is definitely a race, not a date.

🚗

“I’ll be leaving early today, okay?”

Heejung, still face-deep in the hood of a car, questions the sound of her voice. “Huh? Why’s that? You always stay at night. It’s not like you like going home early, either way.”

Reaching for the zipper of her overalls, she lets the fabric pool at her feet as it slides down her body, showcasing a much more casual, less mechanic fit. A blouse, some jeans, nothing necessarily fancy. “Who said I’m going home?” She asks Heejung, more like tutting her, something that has the older woman sighing.

“Where are you going?” Heejung asks, pushing her bleached hair away from her shoulders before smacking her hand against the hood of that car. That dent must be driving her crazy.

“Out on a date.”

Deafening silence, that’s to be expected. Heejung is not a dictator in their friendship, but her years of living has led her to be much like a mother-figure. When she plays with the edge of her hair, almost like a kid would, she realizes that Heejung is just doing that—taking care of her. The woman in question turns around, letting out an exasperated sigh when she actually studies her expression, knowing everything about her with a simple stare.

The thing is: she is not complicated. A risk-taker? Absolutely, a hundred percent, but not difficult to understand. She doesn’t have a routine, but she’s predictable. She’ll do what makes her feel the best that day; she’ll drive herself around, perhaps look for new people to meet, study some more of the science of cars to get herself as much information as possible. Heejung knows this, knows that she seeks for thrill in fear of ever becoming forgettable enough to just find her life to be the same. Each and every single day.

It’s strange, how she battles fear with more fear by living off adrenaline.

“Oh no, baby, I know that look. You’re going out on a date with Wonho, aren’t you?”

“It’s not a matter of who I go out on a date with, Heejung. You’ve said it yourself, I need to get away from always seeking danger and take part of more normal life experiences—”

Heejung sighs at that, fixing her hair as she rests her weight against the dented hood. “No, I know you. You’re doing this, unconsciously, thinking about how hot it would be with your competition in the industry. About how everything is fun and explosive and passionate. You want to have fun, you don’t want to date.” Those words sting at the back of her head, like a punch that has been delivered and it is even worse that it comes from her everything. Heejung is such a necessary part of her life that had she been gone, she wouldn’t know where to stand.

With bitterness settling on her tongue, she speaks out. “What is love about, then? Is it about being boring? Sitting around and not finding anything interesting on the other person other than just finding someone to be there with you? There should be emotion in everything we do.” And maybe her passion is the reason of her love life. She can’t handle routines, the boringness of someone that stops caring, stops loving as hard. The start should not be better than the end, ever.

“...That’s the thing, you have fun in obsessive ways. Not now, at least, but I fear for your safety.” Heejung admits, crossing her arms over her chest to keep her poise. “I’m older than you—”

“That doesn’t give you the right to treat me like a child. I may be messy sometimes, but I know what I’m doing.” This is the part of her that always brings her to be more reckless. People treat her as if enjoying life is her way of being irresponsible, as if she could never make a serious decision, guided by stronger beings than her. She hasn’t had it easy and she has been able to get through it, what is there to prove after that?

“Listen, you’re in your rise to fame now. People are noticing you for your racing,” Heejung, always poised, says in his normal voice. She never curses, never does anything to make it seem as if she is not perfect in every way. That is what has always calmed her down, but she still did not treat Heejung differently if she made a mistake. That is what she is looking for...and sadly, she’d never get. “And you have the celebrity personality. I fear that once you have enough money, you’re going to get addicted to feeling. Celebrities are problematic because they need attention; they need to smoke more than anyone, drink more than anyone, have more sex than any normal human being—”

“You know me, I wouldn’t do that.”

“But I still feel like you shouldn’t go out on a date with Hoseok.” She reasons, though her voice lifts at that. “You’re two fires trying to get together, that just creates a bigger fire and once you dull, there is no way you’re staying. I don’t want you to have your heart broken, because I know you when you get too over excited.” Heejung gets closer to her, blinking rapidly at her friend. “I just know you’ll end up disappointed.”

She looks over to the side, trying not to stare forward. Heejung would want to reason with her and this is just her reality—she wants to go out on a date with Hoseok. Wanted, she desires to feel like; to have someone that understands her. Not a man that asks her to slow down, not a man that shakes her head at her give-it-all-or-lose-it-all personality. Hoseok looked at her, heard her speak with such faux confidence in order to push herself out there, with competition lingering in her tongue, and he still felt attracted to her. He didn’t want to dull her, if anything, he wanted to brighten her up.

“Heejung, I just want to fucking live my life.” Her voice has softened, looking into her friend’s eyes as she reaches forward to push at her arm, almost hesitantly, trying to lighten up the mood. “When I’m older, I want to say I lived. I’m not saying Hoseok is a forever, what I’m saying is that he is who I want right now. For sex or for love, I have to judge that for my own.”

“I just want you to settle down for once.” Heejung whispers. “You’ll end up hurt.”

“You can scold me if that happens,” She says, feeling her phone vibrating inside her pocket and getting it out to see a text from Hoseok. He’s outside, waiting for her. “But for now, Jung, I’m an adult. I don’t need the parenting.”

The glide of her car keys being tossed towards Heejung’s extended hands has the older woman sighing, nodding her head along to her words in a way to showcase her support. More like hidden disappointment, the one that shows she’ll be waiting there whatever happens. “Text me when it’s over, alright?”

Once outside, the dark night engulfs her when it matches the sight of Hoseok’s car, perfectly parked in front of her workplace. It’s a Lamborghini, not to be expected from him to have something cheap or slow, and she doesn’t blame him for it. Her hands trail over the car, smiling at the beaming surface before opening the door. Hoseok lifts his gaze from his phone, then, widening his eyes at the sight of her before he gives one of those infamous smile.

How does Heejung expect her ignore Lee Hoseok? Not the angel of races, but the person himself. She wants to get to know the reason as to why someone like her could bring such brightness out of him. An asshole, that she is; not a heartbreaker per say, just viewing life differently, to test it and enjoy it. Maybe, Heejung is right; people like them are meant to create bigger fires to be turned to dust by someone else, but for now, Hoseok is the person that makes her feel like there is not a burning feeling with fire.

It’s warm. People forget that fire was once looked for thanks to the lack of warmth.

“Hi,” She says, putting the seat belt over her body and studying him. Not his body, but the way he stares at her with a smile on his face, blinking once before letting out a soft sigh.

“You’re gorgeous tonight.” He says before stopping himself, blowing out a raspberry out of frustration. “Not tonight only, though, you are always extremely pretty and funny—”

“I’ll take that as a compliment because I damn right do not look quite as good as you look. Much less with my work clothes.” She compliments, pressing one hand to Hoseok’s shoulder. “So, where are you taking me?”

“...We said dinner.” He continues, all radiance when he starts the car. “For tonight, we’re not two racers in a car but we’re normal people. I’ll drive safely, take you out to dinner and try not to choke on my food from how absolutely beautiful you are.”

“Hoseok, that’s corny, come on.” She pushes, earning laughter from his part.

“Expect more of that through the night.”

“Lucky me,” She rolls her eyes, though a smile plants itself on her face. The growth of being around him, supposedly. “I’ll have a comedy sketch done with the amount of corny lines.”

“I’m ready for it.”

It’s not that the date is perfect, that the place is as inherently expensive as she expected it to be with Lee Hoseok, as rich as he is, it’s the fact that it isn’t. The wine isn’t tastier than any other one that she has, the music isn’t fancier or more on the classic side, the people aren’t socialites with tight dress and huge bank accounts. It’s not the food that is served in fresh plates with smoke coming out of them to indicate how hot they are and it’s not the taste, though magnificent, of the meal she is having along with Hoseok. It’s the man that makes it so memorable, the conversation that never stops, the way she has her head thrown back with laughter the more he tries to joke around. Something connects, like dots in space, like the moles on his face.

Hoseok talks about his tastes; what music he likes, how he listens to it, how he’ll never get used to travelling but how much he loves it. How he’d prefer a bathrobe over any kind of pajamas and how working out, for him, is more than just looking good but feeling good. This makes her feel at ease—someone else enjoys life for what it is, freedom. Someone else can laugh freely with her, can make her feel like she is not judged, and that person is no other than Lee Hoseok.

Flirting is a necessity with him, in the way she looks at him and how sometimes she catches herself sighing out loud at the mere sound of his voice, not for its tone but for what he says. He is not the typical celebrity, much less is he obsessed with being first place. He has surprised her quite thoroughly. Her hand sometimes dances along to his skin when he feeds her something, or when he holds it over the table and these are the particular things that have her heart racing.

Sometime when his fries are long gone, Hoseok licks his grease-coated lips and sighs. “Why did you decide to become a racer? Like, where did it all start?”

She toys with her fries as she dips them on tomato sauce, puckering up her lips and letting out a short chuckle. “It’s funny because it happened when I was around sixteen. My friend had a car, her grandma’s old car, and she was wanted to go out on a date but she didn’t know shit about driving...so I took her there, I learned then and there.” She smiles at the imagery, the young days of enjoying trying something new and perhaps sucking at it, but having fun along the way. “...But then I hung around other people, and more problematic people at that and that’s when I started to race. They used me to test cars and whatnot, because I was just the youngest of the group and wasn’t as important.” Hoseok raises his eyebrows at that, clearly hurt by the way she spoke.

“They should have never done that.”

“I didn’t know better, I just wanted to have fun. At the time, I guess I trusted them enough to know I wouldn’t die...but who knows? I could’ve.” She finishes, finally plopping the fry inside her mouth before speaking with her mouth full. “What about you?”

“I learned how to drive when I was thirteen,” He says, biting down on his bottom lip when he recalls the memory. “Well, kind of, I asked my mom to let me drive her to grocery store and after so much begging, she let me...but, I didn’t do it again until I got older and she wanted me to drive her everywhere. I became a chauffeur, then tried out for legal racing matches because I...needed the money.” Well, in reality she had always expected Hoseok to be more like her. She did it because she wanted to, but with the way his voice lowers, grows tinier in comparison, maybe that wasn’t the case. “I got denied from college, I couldn’t afford going and my job was a mess since I was a waiter so...I raced, got my ass kicked a hundred times, tried again. After some years, I finally made enough money to never worry about going back to that state again.”

Her hand reaches forward, the smile now off her face when she says: “You’ve been an inspiration for many, Hoseok.”

“Wonho has.”

“You’re Wonho, though.” She tells him, reassuringly, looking over at him before sighing through her nose. “Kids and teenagers alike think you are so cool. They see you and they see confidence and racers fear you, they know you’re talented and great with publicity—I feared you, in some way.” Though, by the way he looks at her, the lights of the restaurant casting over his face, she can sense his mood being lifted up.

“You weren’t scared of me,” He says. “You crushed me from the day we met.”

“I like to assert dominance, yes.” She tilts her head to the side, pondering the options of the first time they met. “But it’s because you were so great at everything, I was triggered. Great at everything and the greatest looking man I’ve seen in a while. I was offended.”

Hoseok chuckles at that, reaching forward until he is wiping some of the tomato sauce on her lip with a napkin. “I was terrified. I thought my working out routine was good until you almost made me fall with a handshake.”

“Oh come on, I wasn’t that rough.”

“You were.”

Looking up, albeit a bit innocently or feigning to be, she speaks in a softer tone. “Sorry. I may have been a bit tough, but you liked me like that.”

“I definitely did.” Hoseok says, lifting his glass of wine up in the air. “For the woman I knew was going to win against me from the moment I met her.”

“Pfft,” She scoffs, lifting her glass as well and clinking it against his. “You’re saying that just because.”

“...Let me just compliment you.”

“I’d—Okay, yes, you knew I was going to win.”

With the chemistry building inside of them, the faint drinks leaving her with a buzzing feeling by the time she is back in his car and being driven home, she thinks that at the least of possibilities, he is going to kiss all the dizziness away, tipsy feelings gone when his rosy lips rest upon hers and part at the same time, in a rhythm, like he wants to take her breath away and take her out again. One of his hands rest on the steering wheel, the other playing with the edge of her fingers, like he is speaking and doing it without thought, and she can’t bring herself to say anything.

Not when he is complimenting the date, talking about how much he enjoyed it—enjoyed her. Coming closer is the answer, finally engulfing his palm in her warmth when she leans forward to whisper her goodbyes and instead of receiving a kiss as a gift, all she gets is the drunken truth of a whispered goodbye and a smile. He doesn’t try anything more than a pat on the head and that is enough to have her squinting.

Getting out of the car, she even turns around in case he is rushing behind her to give her a kiss but then, she realizes he is waiting for her to get inside.

...He is being respectful, though his obvious attraction is clear even to her, he is being nice.

He’s waiting, for her, for a kiss, for the perfect time to leave. He’s patient, he’s the slow-burn everyone talks about.

She looks ahead once again, letting some oxygen in before releasing it. Strangely enough, all frustration is washed from her body to be replaced with acceptance. Time will bloom what needs to grow at its own time.

🚗

Contrary to what one would believe coming from her, subsidiary bad girl in what the general term means, she enjoys the tranquil night she gets to spend with Hoseok a few weeks later. Was it a week? Because it felt like a longer time had passed by. In the comfort of their hushed conversations, seated on her couch as they watched those movies that he claims are too good to dismiss—action-based, he really likes those, but with a lingering meaning of loyalty and friendship in the back of it all, she finds enjoyment.

Hoseok, even when he cooked for her with all the might in the world, wanting nothing more than for her to try his instant noodles and to watch how fast he is at chopping, is the color red. He’s fast, passionate, enough to take her breath away when she leans on the counter and watches him work, hears him speak about this movie that he wants to watch with her—Kingsman, he claims she’d like it and she is not one to sit down and watch movies when she could be out and about doing something, but for him, she’d do it.

Because Hoseok can bring feelings even in the most mundane of actions. He can speak with such interest that it clings to her soul, leads her closer and closer until she wishes he could finally act upon their attraction, their devilish need to just kiss each other until they burned. It couldn’t be that he is not interested, she guesses, but the green body of insecurity bites at the back of her brain. She is used to men that take the first step on the very first moment, not to the beauty of him as he takes the time to feed her, to have her tasting what he is cooking beforehand so it is just the right amount of spice for her.

Liking him is all about going forward, not caring that there are no brakes to step on. She wants fast, she wants breathtaking, she wants Lee Hoseok to make her feel like life is slow when in reality she is just an explosion waiting to be ignited.

“I’m not boring you with movies, am I?” He asks after they ate, barely getting through half the movie he was talking about before they had decided to clean up. A lot of mess was caused thanks to the popcorn, the snacks and the food. His elbow rests against the counter, red shirt cladding to his body, matching the rosiness of his pout.

“No,” She confesses, laughing as she splashes water over the plate she is washing. It’s so filled with soy sauce and spices that she is not sure how she’ll get it off. “Strangely enough, I have enjoyed something that I never do. I rarely sit down and use my TV, but with you...it’s fun.”

“I’m glad.” Hoseok says, making her turn to look at him when she feels his gaze inspecting her facial features. She is not exactly the most gorgeous of people tonight, for Hoseok had crashed too suddenly, leaving her more casual than elegant or ready to seduce him. However, his brown eyes concentrate on the color of her eyes, on the depth of her nose, the curve of it, the shine on the bridge, the curve of her lips and even to her jaw before looking back up once again. “If you’re wondering, I’m having an excellent time.”

“...Huh.” She whispers, licking her lips and swallowing thickly when she feels the dangerous side of Hoseok upon her, the one that Heejung advices her to get away from. The trapping point of him that has her in his arms in no time, could she do such thing without feeling a bit insecure, the moment in which she wonders if Hoseok is as innocent as he makes himself to be or he simply wants to prolong the moment, increase the tension, make her nals cling to her skin in hopes of breathing properly. No one has ever had this power over her. “Well, that’s good news...”

Hoseok gets closer to her, like a repetition of events, lips parting and eyes falling a bit, his eyelids fluttering when he leans forward and has her thinking that a kiss will land upon her lips, finally changing their red and beige to the whole rainbow. Instead, the wet kiss is placed upon her chin, making her open her eyes and frown when she realizes that Hoseok had not intended to give her a kiss—

Instead, he childishly kissed her chin.

Is this a new type of affection she has not known about?

Hoseok’s cheeks flush at that, clearing his throat when he pulls away and laughs about something he is thinking before straightening his back. “I’ll—Uh, I’ll serve us some soda while you finish there.”

She inspects his back as he moves towards her refrigerator, releasing a sigh when she says: “You’re so strange, Lee Hoseok.”

“Did you say something?”

“Nothing.”

Her nerves are in endless synapse when she is seated by his side again, legs sprawled over his lap, his hands caressing her calves and making sure she feels comfortable. The air conditioner is suddenly not enough to calm down the heat that exists around her, in tneed of being closer and closer, catching a few glimpses of the expression of Hoseok’s face, barely illuminated by the television device. He’s calm, she can tell, but he’s deep in his thoughts, much like herself, only making comments ever so briefly, something about the silence being absolutely shattering.

The movement of her legs must have caught his attention, turning to his side when he notices her trying to get out of the fluffy blanket that covered her body. “I’m suffocating here.” She adds in a funny tone, perhaps to break through the tension, and it seems to do the trick. Hoseok takes the edge of the blanket in between his fingers, trying to pull at it and get it off her body.

“Sorry, I think I wrapped you up too tightly.” Hoseok says, reminiscent of earlier that night when he had insisted on wrapping her up nicely, almost tucking her by his side. The touch of his hands around her shoulders has her breathing out a laugh.

“You wanted to turn me into a burrito.”

“I like those.” He comments, raising his eyebrows teasingly before she hits his chest. At that moment, time stops and the movie talks in the background, some action scene that would have caught his attention had his body not been immensely close to hers, her hand caressing just above his heart, ready to cage it in a tight grip and pull it away. His eyes do that thing that he is used to, studying from up close, ready to flirt but not voicing it out.

“Don’t do that,” She whispers, though her voice gives away that she is sarcastically adding the comment. “Looking at me like that...do you like what you see that much?” She tries to play, though her voice is tiny when Hoseok learns forward.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” He asks in between a laugh. “I’ve been flirting with you since the moment I met you.”

“I noticed.”

“Then...”

Hoseok gets even closer, burning with the need to kiss her when she closes her eyes tightly. The knotted thread of the story seems to be here, the moment in which she finally gets what she wanted from the beginning—to feel the romance in him. Nonetheless, the air is electrifying, too much to bear when the tip of his fingers caress over her shoulder, wraps around her ribcage and tries to place a kiss on her lips, only for them to turn mistakenly and bump noses.

“Ow!” She hisses, opening her eyes and getting to see Hoseok holding his nose, rolling his eyes at the destiny of it all.

“For fuck’s sake—”

The sentence is cut short when she takes him by the back of his neck, knowing that when things weren’t done correctly, she has to take matters in her own hands. The right answer is to press her lips to his, so quickly that she hears his breath halter, only letting go a few seconds later when he relaxes that hand on her ribcage, the other creating patterns on her nape. Hoseok tastes sweet, beyond the food they had, he tastes like victory, like another dream that she has made true. The way he kisses her, fast-paced and yet so precise, shows experience, thoughtful, a natural in movement when his lips part and he takes no time to deepen the kiss, to reach her heart, to grasp her soul. For the first time, she realizes that much like herself, Hoseok can have the upperhand of his decisions, as well.

Her legs, half on the couch and half on his lap, end up resting around his waist, trying to bring him closer to her and taste more of him. His breath ghosts over her lips, making her breathe harshly to catch her energy back. Demonic, he seems like, in the way he simply can take everything away from her and then give it back with a smile.

“Sorry for all the failed attempts.” Hoseok apologizes, having her laughing when she leans back on the couch, bringing him down with her and trailing her hands down his shoulders, grasping the muscles at his arms, wanting to be caged in the twisted world of falling for him. Soon after, she seeks for his heart, his chest, expands her hands and looks up at him through her eyelashes.

“It took you long enough to land a kiss.”

“Huh, it must’ve been life telling you that anyone would love to kiss me.”

“I never doubted that,” She replies, letting out a sigh when she traces his collarbones with her fingertips. “But, for now, I’m the only one kissing you.”

“Then, do it.” He says, biting down on his lip. “You never hesitate, why now?”

Falling for him is a challenge, not because it is difficult but because he invites her in with playful banter in between, like they want to see who will be able to fall in too deep the fastest. It’s fun, much more when his lips reconnect with hers. Not only fire, like Heejung claims for them to be, but water, air, earth and so much more. It’s second-nature to kiss him, it’s all she wants to do for that night.

🚗

“...So, basically, you have to twist this piece here. Not too harshly, though, you can break it.”

Hoseok chuckles at her words. “Tell that to the muscly man? How original.”

“I’m just instructing you. You were the one that told me you wanted me to teach you how to repair cars.”

“It was an excuse to get your attention.”

“How original.”

To have Hoseok there, in the place in which she feels the most like herself, is just another reminder of how close it feels to have him in her heart. Fearful, strangely enough she is not, but she clings to this moment like she is afraid she’ll lose it. Hoseok has earned such a spot in her tongue that she can’t start a sentence without thinking of him, she can’t wake up without the need to feel his lips, even like an addiction, far more like appreciation. Her phone is never dull anymore, much less is she lonely when Heejung, Leo and the rest of the workers are gone to their houses and she stays behind.

She had never realized how unaccompanied she felt, why she always seeked for more and more adventures to have, in order to gain attention or perhaps, keep someone in there taking care of her. Not that she needs it, she just wants to be able to have someone by her side. Heejung is her friend, but Hoseok willingly stays with her—he talks about her existence like it is beauty sent by the heavens itself, as if there will never be a woman as brave, as valient, as intelligent...when she has always been the exact opposite for someone else. He says it so truthfully, looks at her with such sensitivity, that one would think he feels the same again.

Someone once told her to wait for her twenties, the golden age of youth. The moment in which nothing matters other than feeling alive, and you can do it with people judging you...but it will never matter enough. She feels as though no one had truly looked at her and thought she’d be more than just a die-hard; but Hoseok does. In that smile that he always has plastered, in the feeling of his arm around her waist, in the way he listens and listens and never judges...that is when she realizes she may be falling for him.

Part of her thinks that her golden age must consist of medals, awards, gold, money—it should never have to deal with love, but it’s difficult when Hoseok dizzies her, moves fast enough in his own methodical way that she can only stare in adoration as he takes her spot in front of the car and does exactly as she had instructed. Plenty of times had she liked someone, in a moment or for longer, never had she felt so strongly, so desperately. It’s no wonder she ends up wrapping her arms around his waist, hips pressed to his snugly, lips searching for the curve of his neck before planting a kiss there.

Hoseok doesn’t budge, still doing as he was told, when he finally talks again: “Uh...love, I have a question.” That nickname, so incredibly cheesy for her in the past, is now the only way she can ever imagine being called by him, a few weeks after their first kiss.

Trailing her hands over his abdomen, soothingly and teasingly, she hums. “I may have an answer. Unless it’s educational stuff, I don’t have an answer for most of those.”

Joy fills him with his laughter, captivating when he shakes his head. “I was wondering if you imagined yourself repairing cars as a job for the entirety of your life. Is this what you want to do now that you’re a racer? Like, a legit one?”

There is no judgement in his tone, but what he says has her thinking. Repairing cars has always been a passion of hers and the conclusive feeling of getting it done is exhilarating. That doesn’t mean...she would have to get a paycheck out of it forever. “...Well, most things don’t last forever either way.” She wants to say ‘nothing lasts forever’ but why is it so difficult to voice it out now? “As long as I am able to help my team with money, I would leave. If not, I’d stay.”

“You’re so caring.” Hoseok says, pulling away from the car and closing the hood with a loud thud. She continues to cling to his waist, hands sprawled over his skin, when he tumbles over to the backseat of the car. “I don’t blame you. You have your family here—Heejung cares about you as if you were her little sister.”

“That’s because I am,” She replies, aware that Heejung wouldn’t be her happiest had she known that Hoseok would be here. This fear she has of her falling in love with Hoseok is palpable through every advice that is thrown her way.

“Aren’t you letting go of me?”

“You’re expecting me to let go of a man like this?” She asks, hearing his loud laughter when he turns around and presses his back to the car, hands trailing up and down her extended arms. Something about the warmth of him reminds her of the start of a car—once she begins, she never stops, she likes the drive, enjoys it, prolongs it… “So sweet. I literally have never met a man like you.”

“Thank you.” His eyes look down at her lips, pressing a short kiss there before sighing. “Aren’t we going to try the car?”

She raises her eyebrows at that, reaching for the handle of the car and pushing his weight forward before jutting her chin towards the backseat. “We can try the car, why not?”

The expression he gives is of absolute surprise, the tips of his ears reddening when laughter can’t help but be released. Something about Hoseok is lively, not innocent, simply adoring of the life that surrounds him and when the moments of enchantment come over to him, he wants them to exist forever. “Huh, I wonder how we’re trying the car out.”

“We’ll make sure it’s comfortable.” She teases back, taking his face in between her hands and pressing an elongated, delicate kiss, one that has her releasing a breath when she pulls away from him. “If you want, of course.”

Hoseok lifts his body from the ground, standing on his tiptoes and looking around before letting his weight fall on the cushions of the backseat. “No one is going to come here?”

“Nope.” She replies, settling her body over his and pressing a short kiss to his lips. Something about him makes her feel even more alive than usual, as if life has never been this pretty in the past. “...Do you want to?”

His hands expand on her hips, nodding his head. “I’m not sure how your customer would react if they knew—”

“They won’t know.”

“...And that’s the fun.” Hoseok says, leaning back on the seat and letting her chest collide against his, his legs dangling outside of the vehicle before letting his lips drag from hers to her jaw, nipping at the skin softly, the contact of his soft flesh against her cheeks, her jaw and her neck bringing a smile to her face. “More of a reason to want to make you my girlfriend.”

Her hands trail over his shoulders, humming in delight at the sound of his voice, her heart palpitating faster than ever now that she recognizes those words. Seriousness, commitment, things that she would have never considered in the past but now have her chuckling against all the odds. There is only one year like this one, she’ll only be able to live this moment once...and why not enjoy it to its fullest potential?

The type to go all out, she interlocks her fingers with his before nodding. “Well, make me your girlfriend, then.”

Hoseok pulls away at that, eyes twinkling when he asks: “You want to?”

“Yes...” She whispers, feeling Hoseok turn her around until her back collided against the seat, hearing his hiss when he hits his head on the roof, the atmosphere switching from deep to absolute lightweight when she cackles at his antics. “And even more for that. I like me some fun in my life.”

“Alright, alright, don’t make fun of your new boyfriend like that.” Hoseok conquers, making her smile when she looks up at him.

This age of youth doesn’t sound so bad when he is there to accompany her.

🚗

The history of secrecy is simple, easy, created by two people, four matching eyes, two eloquent minds that think outing a briefly created relationship to the world of racing seems like an unprofessional move. The argument is secure—a month of a relationship may seem like the blooming period of the honeymoon phase, the reason why there is a smile always on her face and why there may be a waltz to her step, but from this point on, Hoseok is Wonho and she is the up-and-coming racer that everyone is seemingly talking about. Attending the same event at the same time is more of a reason to pretend they don’t know each other.

Well, more like pretending like this rivalry they had is still palpable and it has not obviously translated into romantic and sexual tension, now in the form of a relationship.

So far, so good, she tells herself as she brings her bottle of soda up to her lips—a soda brand is now her sponsor, there is something about drinks that gravitate heavily towards her team. Heejung is prideful, at least, the frown that had been given to her when she admitted to her relationship with Hoseok now changed into more of a smile. Her career is going good, not skyrocketing, but definitely not staying behind, sporting better uniforms, earning more money than she ever has, leaving all headaches behind and basking into the moment. She wants to enjoy it to utter perfection.

Not to say that it has ever been easy, much less when she realizes just how quickly she has to turn into a normal public figure. Be gone the honesty that characterizes her, now exchanged for the smile on her face as she gives that fake, athlete voice that showcases her as confident and overly spectacular in ever sense. All that leaves her mouth are brand names, the more well-known the better, the higher the price the more interesting. It is something that she doesn’t get used to, but someone else definitely has done the same thing and excelled at it.

Her fingers scratch the back of her head, pressing her face to Leo’s shoulder when she lets out a raged sigh. “I’m so tired. The flashes of the cameras are ruining my vision. I feel like I can’t see from one eye,” She confesses, though she is not one to bask on what bothers her, if the sun is too hot, she’ll only learn how to get used to it.

“Heejung, can’t we give her a break?”

“We cou—”

“No, I’m fine. I was just saying.” She finishes, lifting her face and jutting her chin out in pride before moving her head over her shoulder. “I only get an opportunity to get my dream coming true, so I’ll do my best at it.” The older woman puckers her lips up at that, staring down at her notebook before sighing deeply.

“Are you sure?” She asks, but before the racer could come up with an answer, she interrupts her. This is not a life that she is used to—behind a steering wheel, she is more at ease, controlling her own life, but the reigns of the press are taken by the masses, by the criticism, where being so much as a woman in an industry like the one she is in is already a downside, wrongly judged, stereotyped, definitely old-school and distasteful. “Listen, I love you, you know this already...but I need you to tell me when this gets to be too much.”

She walks forward, not knowing exactly where to go in this big event, where the food is too expensive to ever be worth eating and all she can do is think about sitting down in the comfort of her home and having the biggest slice of cake to celebrate another paycheck for this sponsorship. “It’s never too much for me.”

Heejung tugs at her arm, bringing her back with a serious expression on her face. “Clearly. You know I don’t like that mindset.” Though, she still moves her towards somewhere, perhaps looking for another interviewer in such a place. “I’m going to tell your little boyfriend to take care of you more often.”

“He takes care of me, Heejung.” She adds with an eye-roll, aware of Heejung’s hatred towards the man. “You just expect me to date a carbon copy of Leo.”

“You’d be lucky.” Heejung prompts, only to click her pen against her notebook quickly. “We don’t have an interview scheduled, but I heard we’d find Mr. Hong around here—”

Her attention diverted towards the group of people in front of her, all belonging to the team of the grand Wonho. She gives a tight lipped smile to Hoseok’s manager, to which she gets no other than a nod before she has to gravitate towards looking for him. Her gaze falls on his height, his stance, how he seems to be so fitted to be in front of a camera. It loves him, just like how she can’t get him out of her brain, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around his waist and seek for the comfort of him, the warmth he radiates from within.

Instead, she has to stay back, only being called when one of the reporters call for her name, making her widen her eyes as she looks between the cameras and her manager. Heejung whispers in her ear: “That’s Mr. Hong’s program. Go over there.”

“But—”

“Remember, keep the rivalry in between the two.”

No more is told until she confidently struts forward, not wanting to be seen like one to back down from anything. Once by Hoseok’s side, the cameras flash once again, the one recording pointed at the duo as a microphone gets closer to her lips. Her name is called and she can’t help but smile, this is exactly what she has dreamed about the entirety of her life. “...We were impressed by your performance in this season of the Formula One. Anything new planned?”

She leans towards the microphone, looking up at the camera with a smile on her face. “What is there not to be planned? Man, I’m going to be everywhere. You will not get to see the end of me.”

The interviewer, Mr. Hong apparently, now pushes the microphone towards Hoseok, tensing the atmosphere around them when he asks: “Wonho, we’ve seen you grow up in this field and you were beaten by a newbie in the industry. Do you think it’s safe to say you’ve been won over by a woman because of lack of preparation or because, for the first time, a woman is sufficient enough to be a racer?”

A woman, such a powerful title and yet dismissed as nothing in this athletic world. Hoseok’s lips part, looking over at her with absolute remorse, like he can’t hear those words without feeling bad for her. Though, she is not one that needs protection, instead speaking loudly, though the microphone barely captures her voice. “What the fuck does that question even mean?”

Mr. Hong pays her no mind, instead, settled on getting an interview with Hoseok. The man sends an apologetic gaze her way and she knows Hoseok will find a way out of this. “I don’t think...It has nothing to do with her being a woman. She’s just great. We—Uh, in this industry racers have to learn that we are not endless. Sometimes, someone will win over us.”

“Doesn’t seem like there is much of a rivalry in between you two like the headlines said? Have you gotten over the comparison in between the two? Have you settled on any thoughts about her?”

She doesn’t know why those questions sting, why she suddenly wants to take the microphone and curse at everyone. They want her for the drama, for being Hoseok’s little rival, for the laughs when she gets made fun of. She raises her eyebrows, staring at the side of Hoseok’s face waiting for him to say something. He blinks quickly before a small smile appears on his face. “Uh...I think I can accept someone’s hard work and passion past whatever my thoughts are about that racer.”

“But she’s known as your arch-enemy—”

Taking the microphone in between her hands and tugging it away, she finally speaks into it to defend herself, making sure that she is making herself loud and clear. “You want entertainment? Watch the motherfucking races. I don’t need to be treated like this,” She extends her hand, pointing at the interviewer. “Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I won against Wonho. Is that your problem? Did you bet on Wonho and that’s why you’re so pissy about it? I don’t give two shits about your show, you don’t get to talk that way to me or anyone.” She replies, making sure to throw the microphone at the man’s chest before turning around, hands shaking and legs moving far too quickly as she gets out of there as soon as possible. Heejung follows right behind her, calling her name out loudly.

The patter of the rain over her uniform, her body, is enough to have her freezing when Heejung trails after her best friend. “...Honey, listen to me. Hey, come here!”

She turns around, taking Heejung by the hands and looking into her eyes. “What are you going to tell me, huh?! That I needed to be more feminine, less vulgar, more smiley? I am tired of the interviews. I don’t want to be a product if that means having to be judged by everything I do—!”

“You’ve always been judged, you know this.” Heejung tries to reason with her but she shakes her head, biting down on her bottom lip as she feels it quiver.

She always has, for being irresponsible, for taking things too lightly. “Yes, but I thought I could be myself here. I thought I’d finally be able to stop hearing the fucking scolding about how I need to change. What is there to change?”

Heejung’s fingers grasp at her arm when she is trying to leave. “We’ll figure it out. We just need to talk to them. We have to show them you’re the good one of this story—”

“No,” She says, tugging her arm away from her friend’s hold. She goes over to her car, feeling her phone vibrate inside her pocket and she reaches for it once she is inside, though she keeps the door open to talk to Heejung. “I don’t want to go back there. I’m—” She looks down at her phone, watching Hoseok’s name as he texts her again and again.

“Wait for me.”

“Love, let’s talk.”

“I’m so sorry they treated you like that.”

“I’m staying here.” She finishes after reading the text messages, leaning back on her seat and watching Heejung get dripped by the water outside. “Hoseok wants to talk to me.”

“As he should,” Heejung breathes out, patting her hand against the roof of her car. “I’ll try to fix your career out there, alright?”

“Good luck.” She adds with an eye-roll, hands fiddling with the edge of the door and closing it when Heejung runs inside, welcomed by her husband with an umbrella already opened for her.

That is the type of love Heejung has always wanted for her; trustful, honest, crafted by time. She is not sure if she deserves it, for she has never taken anyone seriously—not until Hoseok, whose life could never connect to hers, everyone would dismiss him as weak and she would be seen ike a tick trying to get the blood of her opponent. She leans back on her seat, arms crossed over her chest as she feels her head fuming with anger. Everything burns, even when it is cold, even the radio has her angry when she pushes the button to turn it off.

In the matter of seconds, the figure of Hoseok rushing under the rain towards her car is enough for her to open the door, wait for him and see him slip inside. His hair is clinging to his forehead, black strands as dark as his eyes when he stares at her.

“I’m sorry.” The promise shouldn’t be quite as infuriating, but she nods her head, dismissing it as if it was nothing that he had said. “Hey, I mean it, I am really sorry. I should have said something else but I have never been asked questions like that—”

She leans her head on her hand, letting out an enraged sigh. “It’s okay, I didn’t expect it either.” She grumbles, biting on the inside of her cheek before slapping her hand against the steering wheel softly. “I’m just tired of being seen as less than you. As if I’m worse. We shouldn’t be compared.”

Hoseok hums at that, running his hands through his hair and pushing it back. “Yeah, that’s right, because we should be equals. We are both talented.”

Something overtakes her, blinking rapidly and engaging her jaw in a tight hold when she turns to look at him. “Is that it? You also don’t think I could be better than you sometimes? That’s why you didn’t say anything?”

Hoseok’s plush lips moisten themselves, newfound anger found on his features when he speaks up. “I didn’t say that, come on. We are a couple, we should be treated as the same—”

“But it sounds like you still can’t accept the fact that I can win, as well.” Her voice grows larger in tone, staring at him in disbelief when Hoseok lets out a scoff.

“Don’t scream at me, first off, you know I don’t like it when people argue like that—”

“I am not screaming at you!”

He raises his eyebrows, biting down on his bottom lip. Something inside of him is suddenly hurt, as if blood could pour out of his body at any time. “You know, it damn right sounds like you don’t ever want me to win a race again if you’re competing. I also have people working for me and a career to maintain, shouldn’t we just support each other and not mix our relationship with our job?”

“Oh my God, Hoseok, I’ve won against you once. You’ve won like a hundred times—”

“I know and I’m proud of you but—”

“No, you just want more money. You already have enough, why are you so pressed about me winning against you?”

He tugs his hair in between his hands, a reminder that Heejung had told her that two fires could only grow stronger together before everything dulled out for them. “I am not saying you can’t win against me. I’m just saying that it was wrong for them to treat you like that and that you are working hard. I also will do my best, you can’t expect me not to want to race anymore because you’re now in my picture.”

She lets out an enraged breath, loud enough to push the oyxgen out of her lungs as she starts the car. “I don’t want to argue with you anymore.”

“Okay.” Hoseok says, opening the door of the car and getting out. The action makes her soul ache, so he’d choose staying instead of going with her. “I’ll let you wind up and then, we’ll talk. Text me when you get home—”

“Of fucking course, you’re going to pick going back there.” She whispers, perhaps a bit tranced on what to do. She knows part of her is wrong, but she can’t bring herself to stop talking, in self-defense mode even against someone who cares deeply about her.

“Let’s just stop arguing.” Hoseok breathes out, not closing the door yet and for that with the opportunity to reach for her lips and give her a kiss. Something inside her tells her to pull away, moving her head to the side until his lips land on her cheek, the warmth of his breath against her skin when he sighs is enough for her to feel his disappointment. “Go home safely.”

“What a thing to tell a racer.” She whispers, guilt punching her in the gut when she watches the look of sadness on his face. Hoseok gets out of the car then, closing the door and walking away from the car as if it is meaningless.

It is not, but it feels like it is.

Even through this, she continues to love him, sends him that text and decides to ease through this fight. Maybe, they’ll get to get over it.

🚗

In the span of three months, everything can change.

She’d never realized how tiny her home was until she got a bigger one. How little she got paid until she got a bigger paycheck. She had never thought twice about how easy it was to feel alive when she did racing for fun, than in comparison to now, where everything is about competing. Three months and she has won races, lost them, gotten in, gotten out, and all that has remained the same has to be Lee Hoseok. Her boyfriend, fire that has become water, the waves clashing against each other, calming her down and bringing her to a state of endless relaxation.

Not to say it’s perfect...but the arguments that could ensue die down pretty quickly. Everything does with them. The passion is no longer living for the lifespan of hours, the kisses are softer now in comparison to how strong they used to be...it has changed, like it normally does with relationships, when the honeymoon phase starts to wear off and the love remains, exists, but it isn’t quite as palpable in the air.

Sometimes, she wonders if it is the fact that they are constantly asked about each other in public, from this supposed rivalry they have, that has desensitized their relationship. It has made them dull, wore them off, they have heard enough about the other to get tired, because it feels as though they come in pairs and not the best kind. People want them to be in a constant battle; they want to have a boxing match in a racing environment, she has heard enough about him and he has heard enough about her and while they know the truth, it is also difficult.

Because there is the terrible monster that is envy in the back of her head. Not of him, but of what she wishes they could be. A normal couple, they will never be, and if the news came out there that they are dating—everyone would want to tear them apart.

They’d call them a publicity stunt.

They’d call them liars.

Why is the world so difficult sometimes?

Putting her card down, she is reminded that she is playing poker with Heejung, seated in the mechanic shop she used to work at, now too busy to work there full time. The rough concrete digs in her skin through the fabric of her leggings, watching Heejung raise her eyebrows at the card before releasing a sigh. “Well, you’re playing even worse than usual...and you’re here instead of at Hoseok’s...what’s the matter?”

The matter is that it feels like she is not wanted, not loved, and it’s so stupid because the two of them do their best to show their appreciation for the other. It feels as though she is constantly competing, wanting to be better, stronger, wanting to win, win, win. The thirst for it has led her to change, the spark of mischief long gone for something...dull. She feels like she despises racing by now. “I’ve been ignoring his calls.”

“And why’s that?” Heejung asks, seated on Leo’s lap and being the epitome of happiness. They must have had their boring days...their nights in which they didn’t want to look at each other...and they got through it.

Could she get through this?

“I don’t know,” She says, dropping the cards to her lap and rubbing her hands against her aching eyes. Everything feels to be a thousand times more stressing than it was at the beginning. On any other night, she would have said how much she loved him—because she does, with every bit of herself, and being bored of someone who you love is not the right way to go. “I’m...All we seem to talk about is racing, and you know how I’ve been feeling about that lately.”

Leo, for the first time in his life, stops siding with her as he wraps his arms around his wife’s waist. “Maybe, because that’s all you have in common with him: racing.”

No.

That’s not—

Is it?

All that has connected them was racing and while she had always wanted to have someone who understood her because they lived the same lifestyle, it had never crossed her mind that it’d be this hard. They are in the same world, being constantly compared, constantly thrown against each other in ironies in order to get them to rival. Those words must have gotten to her and while she loves him...more like she has ever loved anyone, it must come from a place in which she connects with him, merely because she feels as though she needs to love him. He’s all she ever wanted: caring, sweet, with the right amount of spice, the perfect amount of passion, given and he gives back as much as he wants.

“That’s not it.” She tries to say, though her phone is once again vibrating and she stares ahead, trying not to look at Hoseok’s name. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s not that you don’t have to have anything in common with your partner,” Leo says. “It’s that you have to have dreams together in order to build a committed relationship. You’re in the same field and constantly plotted against each other, you don’t get to get back from work and sit down with him and tell him all that happened, because you guys always know.”

“But you two work together.”

“We lived very different lives.” Heejung adds in between a laugh, turning back to look at her husband with a smile. “But on the long run, we wanted to have something together. We know we have lives outside of our romance, though. We created something together, we had the same dream.”

“...I don’t get it.” She tries to push, picking up her phone and watching as the call suddenly dissipates into the thin air. He had hung up.

“All I’m saying is that you should’ve thought about what you wanted from him before dating him.” Leo conquers, making her push her lips up in distaste.

What had she wanted?

She had wanted to win against him.

She had wanted to try the fire inside of him.

...Was a relationship ever in their plans or had they gotten too excited?

She shakes her head, standing up from the floor and dusting her leggings with her hands. She pushes Hoseok’s contact on her phone, pressing the device to her ear and waiting for him to pick up. “Well, thanks for the advice, but...I don’t know, I feel like we can make it work. We’re just...We need some...We need to breathe sometimes, that’s all.”

“Whatever you say.”

When he picks up her call, confused as to why she wouldn’t pick up, she feels bad. She feels like a villain, then again, constant in her life but now even more prominent. This is the fairytale that she had always wanted, the dream she never had, the fire she wanted to be burnt by, the passion that she always needed...why does it feel so dull? Why does it feel like the two of them are only prolonging it because they have so much love and respect for each other that they need to stay together? She doesn’t know, she simply gets inside her car and asks Hoseok to meet up with her.

Enough it is for him to welcome her with a kiss, for his arms to wrap around her, for them to try for another night to connect...even when sometimes, it feels like everything is rushed.

A second with him must be better than her youth without him.

🚗

It is a sight to remember. The light of sunshine casting down white curtains, passing through elegantly, washing his body in its illuminence, only leaving his shadow for her. One would never think of that as metaphorical, but it is. With her eyes half opened, one of them closed, jaw aching from tightening it when she is asleep, she realizes she is in her room. Sometimes, she forgets how much she had changed from the moment she met him—that man that she adores, the shadow that only shows he has put his shirt on, looking ahead to the city even at such an early moment of the morning.

He’s not one to be up early usually, much less when he is staying in, but something must have been inside his head. She remembers briefly that he had called her name and maybe, that is why she had woken up. Her limbs extend, spine rotating over itself, straightening her back and her legs, waiting for him to say something else, notice that she has finally woken up.

He calls her once again and she groans, pressing her cheek to the pillow before releasing a few words at him, albeit sleepily:

“Yes, Hoseok, I’m here.” Sometimes, she’d say the same things when he had nightmares or when he was talking and he would ask if she’s listening. It’s mundane, the way she speaks, like how they had become. All because of the media, that press that had united them at first and now completely pulled them away.

His voice breaks, god, it hurts her head just to remember the sound of his voice when he says: “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” He voices out, cradling his own body with his hands as he speaks in a softer tone again. “I—I feel like I am boring you, and you’re boring me, too...”

He spoke it into existence, just exactly what she had been thinking, and she sighs, pushing the covers off her body and looking up at the ceiling. Losing him, her biggest fear, she doesn’t know what she will feel now that she sees him everywhere if he is no longer hers. “Well, I see where you’re coming from.” She whispers. “Why are you bored?”

“It doesn’t feel the same.” Hoseok says and she stands up, trying to reach for him but stopping herself, instead fixing her shirt and her sweatpants, the ones that had moved over her body in her sleep. “You’re always compared to me, I’m always pushed to hate you. I feel like it has strained our relationship...”

“It has.” She admits, her voice bitter when she closes her eyes tightly. “Hoseok, you’re not a boring guy. It’s—I think we just rushed through it.” Though, she can hear Heejung’s voice in her head telling her that she had told her so, but she would never regret dating him, the only man that could ever understand her fully, perhaps too much. “We were...so excited. We should have been more honest, taken more time, maybe we could have had a better foundation for our relationship.”

Finally, Hoseok turns around, sparing her a look that she would never forget. God, they look drained, devastated, as if they had given their all but it wasn’t enough. Had they never been compatible to start with? Two people that loved each other but could never be together. Four months of trying and trying… “I’m so sorry. This is my fault—”

“It isn’t.”

“It is—”

“Hoseok, we both did it. We both agreed to this.” She tries to reassure him, reaching over to him and patting her hand against his arm. She wanted to hug him, but they are on the verge of breaking up...she shouldn’t prolong this. Some stories are meant to be as short-lived as its beginning. “It’s—We didn’t know better. That happens.”

“...So...” Hoseok trails his voice, extending his hand and giving it to her. “Breaking up?”

“Breaking up.” She finishes, biting on her lip before she lets go of his hand. This was the first touch they had and their last.

When seeing him go, she realizes that her youth will probably not be as golden as it was with him, that it will be difficult to get back that spark that she used to have—that edge, though not angry, incredibly mischievous, really to enjoy life, to take over it.

From now on, she wants to enjoy everything one day at a time.

From now on, she’ll try to be more than just Wonho’s rival. The reason as to why they had broken up.

#wonho scenarios #wonho #monsta x scenarios #monsta x #kpop scenarios #writing #monsta x au #monsta x fluff #monsta x angst #wonho au #wonho fluff #wonho angst #racer!au #the anti-love club #FIRST ONE OF THE BUNCH #i've been working on this for mooooonths #tell me what you think of this!!!

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the2020romanceproject · 4 years

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Review: The Wedding Date

(Or: Maybe I should only read the first half of romance novels from now on?)

Book two of my year of romance was Jasmine Guillory’s The Wedding Date! I was excited about this one, since I had actually heard of it before I started reading romance, and also it has fake dating which is always gold. And I did enjoy it...up to a point. More on that below. :)

First, a summary: Alexa is chief of staff to the mayor of Berkeley. Drew is a pediatric surgeon in L.A. They get stuck in an elevator together when Drew is in San Francisco for his ex-girlfriend’s wedding to his med school classmate. Drew was supposed to have a date for the wedding, but she cancelled, and on a whim he asks Alexa to go with him instead as his pretend new girlfriend. She says yes, and they have a great time at the wedding and fall in bed afterward and have great sex. Drew secretly changes his flight to leave later in the day on Sunday, and they spend the day together. They’re both hesitant because they know the other person isn’t looking for anything real here—Alexa in particular knows Drew doesn’t do relationships—but they keep reaching out to each other, and Alexa goes down to L.A. to stay with Drew the next weekend. There’s a brief blip where she texts him to ask if he’s sleeping with other people and he makes a joke instead of answering seriously and she cancels their next weekend together; then he runs into her (very conveniently) when he’s back in SF for a conference and they fall into bed again. Then there’s a more serious blip where she meets a bunch of his exes who let it slip that he broke up with each of them around the two-month mark when it seemed to be going really well. Alexa gets upset, refuses to let Drew say anything about his intentions because she doesn’t want to be hurt, and sneaks out of his apartment in the middle of the night to fly home early. Drew realizes how much she means to him and flies up to L.A. to support her at a hearing for the at-risk-youth arts initiative she’s pushing for, and the two of them happily reconcile (and the initiative passes). He shows her the job offer he got from his mentor at a San Francisco hospital, and she tells him yes, she wants him to move here. There’s an epilogue a year later where he takes her back to the elevator where they met and proposes.

I feel like I spent my last review talking entirely about why the book fell apart in the middle for me. This book also fell apart in the middle, but I’m going to start with some things I liked/noted about it, so as to not spend ALL my time complaining about shortcomings. :)

Things I really liked:

Chemistry. Alexa and Drew are both super charming. Their back-and-forth was really enjoyable to read. It was a big part of what got me into the book: I wanted to see these two charming people grow to like each other. All the thing where they’re at the rehearsal dinner and wedding and enjoy touching each other were really nice to read.

Tropes. This one had such good tropes! Stuck in an elevator together! Fake dating! Anything with plausible deniability, where they’re acting like they really like each other but each one thinks it might not denote real interest, is just the most fun. This one gave up the plausible deniability aspect way sooner than I would have expected, but still: great tropes.

Race. Alexa is black and Drew is white. I am also white, so my perspective here is not informed by personal experience, but I really liked how this was handled. Alexa does experience some microaggressions and outright racism—not from Drew—in ways that felt realistic to me. Drew doesn’t try to explain away any of the racism, which made him seem like a good potential partner to her. There was also a thing where he failed to understand a thing in her past that was impacted by race, and when she explained it he listened and accepted his ignorance. She was still concerned that he’d like her less for having made him aware of his privilege, which felt like a very sad and real fear. Overall, it felt like racial dynamics were allowed to come into the text in nuanced and organic ways that kept Alexa from being a token POC. (Jasmine Guillory is a POC herself, so I’m not surprised that this is handled well, and there are probably other things about it that I as a white person didn’t even pick up.)

Body type. Alexa is curvy! She’s embarrassed about it! But Drew loves it! As someone who fills out the top of a cocktail dress pretty well myself, I really appreciated both sides of this: the realistic body issues from someone raised in a society that valorizes thinness, and the way the text kept affirming Drew’s attraction to her. There’s a racial component to this as well—lots of skinny blond girls in this book—but it was something I was able to identify with even from my different societal context.

Things I noted/was surprised by:

How soon they had sex. At some point I’ll stop being surprised by this in romance novels. I’ve read a lot of fake dating stories, and written some, and I would have expected the charade to go on a lot longer before they had actual sex that couldn’t at all be explained away by the fake dating scenario. The purported fakeness of it is the fun part! They both think the other one isn’t interested for real, while their own feelings continue to grow! Why would you cut that part short?? As soon as they kissed and admitted to each other that they wanted it for real, the tension dropped from a ten to about a two. This book got a decent amount of mileage out of that lower level of tension—more on that below—but it’s so surprising to me that it didn’t keep the much more interesting and trope-y tension going longer.

Consent and power dynamics. This book was super good about consent: Drew made sure to check in about what Alexa wanted, and it was played for sexual intensity, where he clearly got a kick out of hearing her say it. But it was very, very one-sided. There was no implication that Alexa needed to check in with Drew on what he wanted. This wasn’t a surprise, exactly, but it did stand out to me, since I don’t read a lot of het (and honestly this is a big part of why—I don’t want to encounter gendered power dynamics in my leisure reading). Consent felt like a thing the woman had to give the man. I’m not saying this is a problem, necessarily; just something I noticed.

Sex scenes. The sex scenes almost faded to black but not quite. Maybe they faded to gray? I felt like I knew pretty much what sex act they were doing and when, but they weren’t described in any real detail. It was an interesting compromise, like the book was trying to give us a clear sense of their sexual relationship without any real titillation. I wonder if this is a genre thing—I’m not sure this book was published strictly as romance—or if it’s just Guillory’s style.

Romcom careers. They’re chief of staff to the mayor of Berkeley and a pediatric surgeon. Those have GOT to be two squares on the romcom career bingo card. I’m teasing a little, but I think this kind of character background serves an important role: we have to know that they’re accomplished, valuable people, so that when they feel rejected or insecure we can revel in it—look, they feel like I once felt! But it’s unjustified and they’ll end up happy!—instead of actually questioning the characters’ worth. Fanfiction usually gets over this hurdle by writing about characters the readers already know and respect and love, or, in the case of RPF, writing about people who are for-real successful and famous. Romance novels have to introduce us to brand-new characters, and one of the easiest ways to make us feel sure that these characters are worthy of our respect and of the other character’s love is to give them prestigious and intellectually or creatively rigorous careers. I’ll be interested to see how many other instances of this I run across.

Two points of view. It strikes again! Do all romance novels include both points of view? I don’t hate it, necessarily—but it does decrease the overall tension. You don’t get caught up in one character’s desires as strongly when you’re seeing both POVs.

Immediate attraction. Another thing I should probably stop being surprised by. Both Alexa and Drew are very physically into each other as soon as they meet; he has trouble not looking at her breasts, and there are so many narrative references to her wanting his touch, wanting to move closer to him, etc. To be fair, I think I’m pretty far toward the “not attracted to complete strangers” side of the spectrum, so I might not be the best judge of this, but it did feel a little over the top. I suspect this was an attempt to make us really want these two to be together. I think it was trying too hard—a more genuine reserve would have been more compelling to me, where they like each other but don’t immediately want to jump each other. Also, they’re going to a wedding together as fake dates! You don’t have to try that hard to make us interested!

Food as comfort. This was such a strong recurring thread in this novel. Alexa has a sweet tooth, and Drew is always getting her doughnuts; they get a lot of very satisfying takeout. It gelled for me with the thing where a lot of the satisfaction in the novel came from the comfort of “oh, this person is touching me; oh, they like me back.” Comfort instead of angst.

Subplots. One of my questions in approaching this genre was whether romance novels needed to be more novel-like than fic—i.e. whether they needed to engage with a plot beyond the romance. This does have a very slight B plot (Alexa’s youth initiative, which is connected to her difficult relationship with her sister) but it’s VERY slight. The book has an even less prominent subplot about one of Drew’s patients who develops cancer. Alexa’s subplot resolves, whereas Drew’s is only backdrop. Drew’s in particular is used the way I’d use a subplot in fic: it’s included to provide an excuse for scenes with or about Alexa, or to affect Drew’s mood in ways that reflect or influence the romance plot. It serves the romance instead of being an independent plot in its own right.

Okay, so those are my observations. Time to dig into the thing where this book lost me in the middle—much like the last book I reviewed, but for entirely different reasons.

I’ve already talked about the drastic drop-off in tension after they slept together. That actually was not what lost me this time. This novel managed to build enough of a rapport between the two characters that I was invested in their relationship becoming real. To be clear, I would have preferred that the fake dating trope go on longer and create opportunities for actual longing. But this novel wasn’t so much about longing; it was about that delightful feeling when you like someone and you reach out tentatively and they meet you in the middle. It was the very, very gentle tension of, “Maybe we could hang out today?” “Sure!” over and over, as a relationship builds. It was fluff-adjacent tension. Super enjoyable, the way a warm bath is enjoyable. I wasn’t dying to get to the end or anything, but it was nice.

I did wonder, about halfway through, how the heck this book could possibly keep going like that. And it turned out it couldn’t. That was when it introduced: the Misunderstanding Plot.

Don’t get me wrong. I love a good misunderstanding plot. But they are hard to do well. They work best when they feel unforced and genuine, and don’t make either of the characters carry the idiot ball. Like, say, if Drew and Alexa hadn’t had enthusiastic sex where they talked about how much they wanted each other, and they were still under the impression that it was a fake relationship, it would be very easy to have the other character accidentally confirm that and drive a wedge between the two of them. Or if one of them was starting to think it WAS real, and then they overheard the other person confessing to someone else that it was totally fake. (Don’t mind me; just thinking about ways I might write it.)

The problem with this one was that they were basically just dating at this point, so in order for drama to arise, the characters had to act badly in ways that felt forced and off-putting. They’d known each other for a week and a half; things had been happy and a little giddy and chill between them so far. Then Alexa texts in the middle of the workday to ask if Drew is sleeping with anyone else. (Because that is the perfect way to initiate an important relationship conversation, obviously.) He makes a joke, because he is clearly also very good at this, and they don’t speak to each other for a week and a half.

Guess which one of them this makes me like more? That’s right! Neither!!

Look. I like characters who are stupid about their own feelings and blind to other people’s. But I also like characters who, when they know about the other person’s feelings, are very, very considerate of them. Drew was not—and Alexa compounded the problem by being confrontational with the question and then abruptly pulling back as soon as she didn’t get the magical easy answer. In short, it made me think that they were bad for each other.

They recover from the texting thing when they just so happen to run into each other (I mean, I can’t throw stones, I’ll buy the coincidence) and are happy to see each other, and apologize, and everything’s fine. But by this point the novel had lost me. I had been enjoying the happy dance of “Does s/he like me? Ooh, s/he does!” but only so long as it lasted. They didn’t have a strong enough core after a week and a half to get through the badness of those texts. They were happy again, but I wasn’t invested. I was mostly reading so I could write this review.

Then, fascinatingly, the book won me back.

It was a very specific passage that did it. On page 190 of the paperback, Alexa talks in the narration about how she wouldn’t admit this to anyone other than herself, but ever since that first weekend with Drew, she’d imagined him in bed with her every night as she fell asleep. And I was sold. I mean, it was still very gentle tension. But! A thing the character wanted that she wasn’t getting! I could be into this again!

And then...well, this is already super long, so I won’t go into all the details of the misunderstanding that ended the book. It had a lot in common with the text message fiasco: Alexa felt insecure, got upset that Drew might not be into her, and refused to engage with him about whether that was true. (Okay, it was actually more egregious than the texts, in that she wouldn’t let him speak.) Her getting upset made sense, but her refusing to let him speak when he was clearly trying to felt SO forced.

The funny thing is, there was actually a seed of potential real conflict there: Drew hadn’t really admitted to himself that he wanted a long-term thing with her. He could have told her that. He could have done anything, really, to indicate that and create a real conflict. (Also tricky to handle without him coming off as not actually interested—but doable, I think.) As it was, he didn’t call her his girlfriend at a party—which, it had been like a month, and they hadn’t discussed it privately, so it’s totally appropriate not to throw the term around in public yet!—and...that’s it. Everything else was just her fears, and the very cowardly way she handled them. I guess that’s relatable? But it felt so engineered. It didn’t so much make me dislike her as make me annoyed with the text for twisting her response so that they couldn’t have the very short conversation that would have cleared everything up.

In fairness to Guillory, a friend who’s read the whole series tells me she does better with misunderstanding plots later. But I’m really, really excited to read a romance plot that doesn’t lose me halfway through.

Next up is Red, White, and Royal Blue. I’ve been told this was basically written for me, so I’m hopeful. Fingers crossed it sticks the landing!

#romance novels #reviews #jasmine guillory #the wedding date #romance meta #fanfiction meta

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chaunceyandchumleysdad · 5 years

Photo

RIOT FEST, Day 3 Sunday September 15

My wife did not attend this day, but I still opted for driving as I couldn’t face taking the L after the ease of driving and parking the first two days. Weather was very similar to Friday. Some rain in the morning created a few muddy/wet areas, but the fields were mostly in good shape. A little humid with a cooling breeze and just a very light sprinkle for a few minutes later in the day.

· Ultra Q (Rise stage) – The first band of the day. I didn’t have anyone in particular I wanted to see at this time, but Ultra Q was the choice simply because they were on the stage of the next band I wanted to see. They were a rockin’ Pop Punk band and a good opener for Day 3.

· Save Ferris (Rise stage) - I have to admit this is one of the bands I most wanted to see this year. I love Ska Punk, I’m easily hooked on good Pop sounds and I’m a sucker for any band with a good front woman. Their 1997 debut It Means Everything is an album I cannot seem to get enough of. After their sophomore release Modified in 1997, they struggled through numerous personnel changes, breakups, lawsuits and eventually a revival where Monique Powell was able to obtain the rights to the band’s name. Deservedly so because she is the face of the band. And she was soooo entertaining. Her singing, humor and banter was outstanding. She held the crowd in sway in a manner that is comparable to Gwen Stefani. She started the show in a tight black dress and stripped off pieces of clothing until she was eventually down to a Vaudeville-type leotard. She strutted around the stage while teasing the crowd with sexual innuendos. Even the band members continuously laughed and smiled while watching her stage antics. The band covered the Dead Kennedys song Too Drunk To Fuck and of course, they finished the set with their great cover of Come On Eileen. Based on the energy Monique puts into singing on her records, I had high hopes for the show and she and Save Ferris did not disappoint.

· White Reaper (Roots Stage) – This Louisville band that was not on my radar. However, as I was walking through the park that morning, a lady I was chatting with suggested I see White Reaper because her cousin is in the band. They were very good playing a brand of Hard Rock/Garage Punk. I stayed for about half their set before moving on to catch some of another band.

· Frank Iero and The Future Violents (Rise Stage) – I caught the second half of this show. Frank Iero was one of the guitar players in My Chemical Romance. I was not familiar with this band but they had a nice Alternative sound and were very energetic on stage.

· Less Than Jake – Well, I had to have more Ska Punk! I remember my older son David being into this band when he was a young teenager. Although I’ve listened to this musical genre since the Ska Revival in the late 70’s, it was really David’s interest in bands like Reel Big Fish, Save Ferris, The Aquabats and Less Than Jake that got me to start listening to it on somewhat of a regular basis. Less Than Jake was awesome. I stood close to the stage and enjoyed their sound, energy and great humor. They put so much into their show and had a lot of fun with the audience. It was easy to tell by their laughter, smiles and jokes that they really enjoy what they are doing. This is a band I would definitely like to see again.

· Sincere Engineer (Rebel stage) – This band is led by Chicagoan Deanna Belos. Their debut album was just two years ago. Very good hard driving Garage Punk. This was the only band I saw with my younger son Dylan, who had just arrived and then departed after the set to catch up with friends.

· Streetlight Manifesto (Rise stage) – And more Ska! I did not see the first half of their set but Dylan and I could hear them while we sitting on the soccer field and eating some dinner. After Dylan left, I went to see the rest of their set. Like Less Than Jake, they were a fun, energetic Ska band.

· B-52’s (Radicals stage) – For my taste, this was the beginning of a killer ending for Riot Fest with an incomparable Final Four musical artists. While I can’t say that I am a huge B-52’s fan, I did get into them from hanging out with my buddy Dean in the 1980’s. Their album Comic Thing, released in June 1989, was a summer classic that year. I still enjoy listening to it from beginning to end. They played their two big hits from that album, Love Shack and my favorite, Roam in addition to other hits such as Give Me Back My Man and Rock Lobster. What amazed me was that Kate Pierson (71) and Cindy Wilson (62) still sounded youthful and superb. Fred Schneider’s quirky voice still sounds the same too with his singing and talking voices being virtually indistinguishable. They also drew the largest crowd I had ever seen at the Radicals stage. There sound was rounded out with original member Keith Strickland on guitar and a host of touring musicians. While all still the original members, the death the Ricky Wilson in 1985 almost ended the band, but they forged ahead as a quartet and continuing to be a very entertaining band. After Riot Fest, I did read an article that suggested this was a farewell tour for the band. I haven’t seen or heard that anywhere else. Given their ages and longevity, I guess it would not be surprising, but I hope they stick around awhile longer.

· Patti Smith and Her Band (Riot stage) – The second of the Final Four was the great Patti Smith. This was my second time seeing her as she was also at Riot Fest in 2014. One of the founders of Punk (before it was called Punk), she was way ahead of her time in terms of her music, attitude and feminism. While she has produced some great songs, I was surprised, though not disappointed, that she did several cover versions during her set including I’m Free (Rolling Stones), Beds Are Burning (Midnight Oil), Are You Experienced? (Jimi Hendrix), Walk On The Wild Side (Lou Reed) and After The Goldrush (Neil Young). I particularly liked I’m Free and Beds Are Burning. She closed the set with Gloria, which is technically a cover song (Them). However, that was the opening track of her first album and she did such a unique version of the song that she has made it her own. Add in People Have The Power and Because The Night along with a couple of other originals and it made for a wonderfully enjoyable set.

· The Raconteurs (Roots stage) – Earlier in the year, when I heard The Raconteurs were touring, I immediately went to their website to see when they would be in Chicago. While they were going to be playing in Midwest states during September, Chicago was noticeably absent from their schedule. That immediately led me to speculate that they would play Riot Fest. While I’m sure I wasn’t the only on to draw that conclusion, I was dead right for a change. (My Riot Fest prediction percentage does not have the best track record.) I just saw Jack White perform last year at Lollapalooza so it was great to see him again a little more than a year later. I would have to say for overall performance, this was, in my book, the best of the festival. The show was just so impactful in terms of being a tight band with great professional talent, tremendous production and a powerhouse of sound. They played six songs off the new album (Help Us Stranger), four from Broken Boy Soldiers and three form Consolers Of The Lonely. I like all three albums so I was happy with everything they played. Jack White also referenced Bikini Kill during the set and the band also played a snippet of Gloria which I interpreted as a nod to Patti Smith.Unlike last year at Lolla, Jack White did not offer much banter between songs, but I believe the bands stage time was much shorter at Riot Fest than it was at Lolla. As with last year at Lolla, I thoroughly enjoyed Jack White’s guitar playing. When you look at the span of his career, the various directions he has gone with his music, and the potential he still has, he is truly a treasure of American Rock music.

· Bikini Kill (Riot stage) – This band was Riot Mike’s coup for the 2019 edition of Riot Fest. This year was the first time Bikini Kill officially reunited as a band since they broke up in 1997. The reunion included 3 of 4 original members (Kathleen Hanna, Tobi Vail and Kathi Wilcox). I have twice seen Kathleen Hanna live with her band The Julie Ruin, but I never thought I would see Bikini Kill. It seemed like a bit of a strange transition from The Raconteurs big time Rock sound to Bikini Kill’s stripped-down Riot Grrrl sound. But Riot Fest is first and foremost a Punk Rock festival, so Bikini Kill deserved the top spot. Kathleen Hanna also commented on how difficult it is for a female band to get “this spot” (top headliner and a Rock music festival). Kathleen sang the bulk of the songs with Tobi Vail taking lead vocals for a few numbers. Kathleen talked quite a bit between songs, often addressing societal issues from a feminist point of view but also talking about the history behind some of the songs. Based on my experience seeing The Julie Ruin, I know she likes to chat on stage. However, when you are given a 75 minute time slot and you play Punk songs that are on average maybe two minutes long, I suppose you have to fill up the time with some banter. At any rate, it was fantastic to see this band and an awesome way to end Riot Fest 2019.

#riot fest #chicago #douglas park #ultra q #save ferris #white reaper #frank iero #less than jake #sincere engineer #streetlight manifesto #the b-52's #patti smith #the raconteurs #bikini kill #fuck yeah riot fest #riot fest sucks

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jimlingss · 6 years

Text

Head Over Heels to Hell

➜ Words: 27.5k

➜ Genres: 80% Fluff, 20% Angst, Childhood friends To Enemies To Lovers!AU (it’s a roller coaster), Reverse Soulmate!AU, Historical!AU (kind of)

➜ Summary: Some people are destined to never have a soulmate. You are one of the few. Instead, you have something much different - a parasite set out to destroy and ruin your life no matter where you run to.

➜ Warnings: Mention of death and a shit ton of other things - I promise it's not too angsty but still tread carefully. Implied smut & slight historical inaccuracies.

➜ Notes: My god, I wrote this back in April. But honestly, I’m so fucking proud of it. This is probably my most favourite Hoseok story I’ve written up to date. Dare I say, it might even be masterpiece level. Anyways, I’ve been super excited to share this. Enjoy!

Cr.

Each person born is destined for one or perhaps several, fated to fall in love with their other half or a fragment of themselves. Whether it be a whirlwind of romance rendezvous, a heated passion pressed between sheets or a comforting presence by your side that makes a home a true home - each individual has a chance to make their heart feel full, their soul fulfilled and the void feeling that lingered while they travelled through life on their own disappears.

You, however, are not so fortunate of an individual.

“A few folks in the world don’t have a soulmate.” The old woman sighs while looking out from her porch. You sip on your juice box, swaying from side to side on your toes next to the rocking chair. “I can see it in your eyes, dear. A bachelorette. You’ll be alone for your entire life and the next to come.”

You quirk your head to one side. “What’s a bachelorette?”

You can’t comprehend what your grandmother is saying. She’s using such complicated words that your dad hasn’t taught you yet but you aren’t very concerned with it either. Any second now, your mom will emerge from the kitchen with ants on a log and you’ve made sure you finished your breakfast this morning to be able to eat them. Also, your mom says your grandmother is old and her mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be, whatever that meant.

Did that mean she was crazy? If she’s crazy then that’s not good. But maybe crazy is fun and exciting. Oh! That little doggy that wanders around the yard is also fun and exciting. Speaking of which, where is it?

“It means you won’t be able to experience love.”

Your grandmother snaps your attention momentarily back into focus. You peel your eyes away from the verdant green lawn to the wrinkles surrounding her experience yet tired eyes. “At least, you can experience it but nowhere near the amount that soulmates would feel. Instead of a soulmate, you have something much different, Y/N.”

“What is it?”

For once, the sorrow and pity laced in her features has melted off. The old lady smiles at you and pets your head lightly. “You’ll find out someday.”

Without fully understanding the weight of her words, there will come a day when you look back and regret not taking heed of the warning.

Fate decides to begin smiling down at you at four years old.

Barely able to walk on your own two feet without wobbling, your mother sends you off to preschool with a bright knapsack and brand-new shoes. You aren’t aghast to be without her but more so, bewildered that there are so many miniature humans like you in the confines of such a small space. “Y/N?”

Your name being called has you flopping your head to the ceiling where a young lady with an apron tied around her waist is grinning. “You’re Y/N, right? Welcome to our little Buttercup Daycare!” The teacher squats down to meet your height. “We’re just having a little playtime now before all the kids get here and we do some crafts together. Is there something you’d like to play with?”

It’s then that you confirm you quite like this lady. She’s very nice and pretty.

Your tiny arm raises, finger moving from your fist to point at the pink princess castle in the corner. She smiles and ushers you over. “Great choice! Do you like princesses?” You nod at her question, and she hums, watching as you open the door and study the plastic building. “You know, Emily really likes to play with princesses too! She would be a great friend. I should go get her.”

No. No. No. You don’t want a friend. You want to play with the teacher- “Oh…”

Before you were able to turn around and voice your opinion, the lady has disappeared in the sea of children. You whip your head around, standing on the tips of your toes to catch sight of her but the struggle is fruitless.

Suddenly, it hits you hard. Your mother is gone. Your father is at work. The teacher is nowhere in sight and all these rambunctious strangers are scaring you. They’re shouting, screaming, running, giggling - it’s sheer madness.

With the blind courage of a four-year old, you bravely step into the crowd, yelping when a stranger bumps into you, whimpering when a block is thrown at your foot, crying softly as someone steps on your shoes. It’s no wonder that you get pushed aside so easily when even a gust of wind could knock you off your feet. But this time, it isn’t a mere nudge.

Like a swift current, a stream of children running indoors when they’re not supposed to, accidentally collides into your little body, shoving you aside and you're pushed to the ground. A shock ripples throughout your frame, knees bruised, palms met with the rough carpet. You’re absolutely stunned, unable to grasp what just happened but in the delayed second, as pain shoots up your bones, you break out into horrific and heart wrenching sobs.

“Owie…”

“Stop crying.” In the midst of the chaos, you rub your eyes with your little fists, lifting your chin to meet the tall shadow looming over you. The stranger wears no smile, oddly familiar in a way you can’t understand and his cold gaze doesn’t make you waver or scared. Instead, your eyes follow his command, halting the tears that were falling like raindrops. “Only babies cry. You’re not a baby.”

The boy should be the same age as you. Should because no child should have such a fixated stare and serious expression. There are only a few inklings that show his youth, the pitch black hair that looks more like a ruffled cloud, strands poking out in every direction, the low height and stature that may be smaller than your own body and the navy green overalls splattered with colours that are not supposed to belong there.

“Stand up.”

He holds his hand out to you, palm facing upwards. You sniffle for a moment, letting the remaining salt water drip down your cheeks and then your arm reaches out.

Your hand clasps his and the boy lifts you off your feet.

“My name is Y/N.” You smile at him happily, giggling when he tries to shake off your grip but fails to do so. You fear if you’ll let him go, your new friend will disappear into the pandemonium. “What’s your name?”

“Hoseok.” He sighs when he realizes that you’re going to stick around him now. But he decides you both might as well do something together. “You wanna paint?”

You loll your head, following his finger that’s pointed to the round table with the green stools and brushes laying on the watercolour sets. Hoseok patiently waits for your answer and you give another toothy smile, letting your dress twirl when you look at him again. “Okay!”

Four-years old is when you meet Jung Hoseok at preschool and you become stuck to his side like gum, declaring him as your best friend while discovering his enjoyment for painting; how he marks up white printer paper until it’s drenched in vivid hues, scribbling with brushes until all the brush hairs has fallen off. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, you’re his greatest friend!

“Paint me! Paint me!”

“No.” He ignores your crestfallen expression. “Don’t wanna.”

It’s too difficult to hold back the sadness and you can’t help but cry, “Why?”

The boy huffs out, turning away from you until you face his backside. “Cause I said so.”

It’s not like he doesn’t want to. Hoseok would paint you if he could. But there’s not really a colour in the watercolour set that could be used to show how brightly your eyes shine.

Plus, he knows he’s not that good. It would be mean to make you ugly. Especially when you’re far from it in reality.

Fate’s smile never ceases its smile. Even when years pass and you’re slowly getting a better grip on yourself, it seems like life has always shown you a better side of itself. Well...for the most part at least...

“Y/N, why are you disrupting class again?” The teacher at the front slaps down her whiteboard marker on the metal ledge, exhaling and giving you a hardened glare. “Do we need to have another chat outside?”

You wince from the sharp tone, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the class of thirty students have turned around to stare at you. “I’m sorry.” You sink lower in your desk seat. “I-I can’t find my writing journal. I think someone stole it…”

The teacher scoffs. “Well does it look like we’re writing, right now? We’re doing social studies, so please, sit up straight and open your textbook to page one hundred seventy-four. Now. Please.”

Everyone turns back to the notes on the board and you downcast your head, trying your best to pay attention but to no avail. To the side, a friend offers some consolation through a warm smile, though before she can lean over and whisper to you, the teacher gives the both of you the stink eye. The old woman’s voice drones on and on about the geography of the world, explaining a worksheet and what shade to use when colouring the countries in.

As an eight-year old, third grade was the worst.

Not only was the teacher mean to you, the classes were boring and you didn’t have that many friends. Most of the girls didn’t like you very much since you didn’t like to play with dolls anymore and you weren’t that interested in discussing crushes or soulmates. You liked to write but they thought that was boring. Friends or no friends, it was fine by you. But it was still kind of lonely.

“I still can’t find my journal.”

The teacher, sitting at her desk, looks up at you with her reading spectacles perched on the tip of her nose. “Well that’s what happens when you’re too irresponsible with your belongings, Y/N. You should learn how to be more organized.”

“But I left it inside my desk in the corner like always!” While defending yourself, your voice moves up a pitch, and she seems to get annoyed from the sound. “It’s not fair! I think someone took it!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! The door’s always locked.” She sighs, exhausted from having to reason with an illogical child. “Stop blaming other people for your mistakes, Y/N. If it’s lost, then it’s lost because of you. You’ll just have to re-do all the assignments and entries I gave.”

“But-”

“I don’t tolerate any back talk. Now go outside like you’re supposed to. The bell doesn’t ring for another twenty minutes.” The woman doesn’t offer any more chances as she turns back to her stack of papers, thirty booklets full of worksheets that were handed in and had to be marked by the end of the week.

You open your mouth to retort but a staggering breath leaves instead. Your shoulders droop with defeat and you force yourself to drag your feet out of the classroom, frame quivering with sobs threatening to break through your throat. The hallway grows blurry in your vision, clouded with tears but you clench your fist, nails digging into your skin, repressing the urge to cry.

“Y/N?”

You slowly turn around at the familiar voice and quickly, you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “Hey, Hoseok. What’s up?”

“Nothin’. Are you okay?” He steps forward, meeting you halfway and you meekly nod.

“Ms. Choi is a mean witch so it’s whatever.”

Hoseok laughs and you find your lips upturning at the sound.

One of the biggest reasons third grade completely sucks is because Hoseok isn’t your best friend anymore. Actually, he hadn’t really been your friend since two years ago when you entered first grade. It seemed like in your school, girls hung out with girls and the boys would do their own thing. As much as you disliked it, you couldn’t do much when your friends pulled you away to the other side of the playground where the park benches were and Hoseok was off at the field playing soccer with his other classmates.

You can’t actually remember the last time you talked to Hoseok. Anytime when you did, whether it be during class or outside, your peers would ask you if you liked him or if you’re dating or if he’s your soulmate. You don’t even know what any of that means.

(Also, there’s the whole rumour that you can catch germs from boys but you don’t think that’s right).

“Did you find your journal?”

“No.” You whimper, downcasting your head at the reminder and afraid that you’ll really begin to start crying. It would be so humiliating to do it in front of him - you’d never return to school again. “I think it’s lost.”

“It isn’t.” He smiles and reveals what’s hidden behind his back, unbending both his arms and thrusting it out in front of you. A gasp spills from your lips and your doe eyes dilate from the recognizable bright green cover. “I found it in the lost and found.”

You grasp at the notebook, taking it into your hands, feeling the metal coil beneath your fingertips and the wrinkled pages full of erasing, scribbling and doodles. “Thank you.” You choke out words of gratitude, grinning so widely that your cheeks might burst and your eyes well up with happiness. “Thank you. I-I thought it was gone forever. I thought it was stolen.”

“By Seokjin, right?” He smiles when you nod. “Yeah, I think he stole my pencil too. I lent him a sharper once and it was gone by the end of the day. No one believes us when we tattle on him.”

“You’re the best, Hobi!” It’s a nickname that you haven’t said in a while, and he’s about to mumble something back but you smother him in a tight hug. Hoseok pretends he’s being choked to death, making hacking sounds and muttering your name but you don’t let up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, sure.” He uses all his strength to rip your arms away from his neck, prying it off in a hurried pace before someone else sees. His breath steadies and he glares at you. But you remain smiling at him, and he scratches the back of his neck, sighing. “I hope it’s okay but I read some of it.”

“What?” Your eyes enlarge. “You did?!”

“Yeah.” Hoseok shrugs. “It’s actually not bad but you suck at spelling.” You smile sheepishly at him, acknowledging your bad marks in every spelling pop quiz. “I could fix it for you if you want me to.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” You don’t want to bother him anymore than you already have. It’s already made you happy enough to have your journal back and to hear that your writing is pretty good; technically he said ‘not bad’ but you’re taking it is a compliment. “Thanks though.”

The boy in his green plain shirt and trousers is beginning to say something but a hall monitor strides down the hall and whips his head over at the sight of you. “Hey! Aren’t you kids supposed to be outside for recess?!”

You and Hoseok exchange a startled look before you both book it out the doors together.

At twelve, fate begins to show its ugly side. Technically not as much as your ugly side.

It’s painful to admit but you look like the ‘before’ shot of those cosmetic surgery advertisements - bad skin, pimpled face, gawky glasses, braces, awkwardly cut hair, limbs too long — the whole nine yards and more.

It also doesn’t help that you feel like everyone else looks like they came straight out of a magazine, blown out hair, flawless features, a perfect smile and trendy clothing. So, it’s probably not all in your mind that people are staring and talking behind your back when you walk to your locker or to go to class. Why did puberty have to fuck you up so badly?

“What are you talking about?” Your friend rests against the washroom counter. “You’re so pretty Y/N. You just don’t see it.”

The reflection in the mirror says otherwise.

You look over at her with an unimpressed expression. A lump lodges in your throat when you detect pity in her gaze but you ignore it. “Thanks but I feel really horrible. My skin is itchy and I feel bloated and this is probably too TMI, but my bowel movements haven’t been great.”

“You’re fineeee.” She emphasizes, flicking a piece of dirt from under her nails. “Trust me when I say it’s a lot worse in your head. No one cares, you know. They’re all too concerned about themselves anyways. But it’ll get better, Y/N. Chin up.”

“...Thanks.”

It’s not like you wanted all these insecurities. It just happened to knock on your door, barge inside without a warning and now you constantly feel bad about yourself no matter where you go. The world would be a lot better if it were socially acceptable to wear a plastic bag over your head.

“I better get back to Mr. Jeon’s math class before he freaks out and sends someone to go look for me.” She checks her phone once and then pats you on the back, standing back on both feet. “See you at lunch, Y/N.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

The moment your friend walks out the washroom door, you look back at the silver mirror with a long sigh. No matter what you do, how much foundation or concealer you pack onto your face, it doesn’t help anything. You can either look like a peasant girl or a clown - you’re not sure what’s worse.

You reach deep into your hoodie pocket, a sleek surface meeting your fingertips and you hesitantly pull the small object out. It’s a lipstick that you smuggled from your mother’s makeup bag this morning. The pink bullet is soft and pretty in hue but you’re aware the moment it meets your mouth, it’ll look like a child trying to play dress-up.

“All or nothing.”

You murmur to yourself using some encouraging clichés and then, your hand lifts to dab on the colour. With the lightest touch and your pinky smearing the product, you pop your lips, taking a step back to look at yourself. And wow.

For once, you don’t feel like a roach emerging from the back of a dumpster.

You throw open the door, strutting down the hall. Despite no one being around, you feel like a glorious supermodel and the paparazzi are hidden in the corner, your idol waiting with a bouquet of red roses at the end of the aisle, an epic soundtrack playing to each of your steps. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is all you needed to be rich and pretty. Maybe he’ll finally look at y-

“Y/N?”

You whirl yourself around, heart stuttering inside your chest. “H-hey Hoseok. What are you doing?”

The teenager is in a green sweatshirt, baggy jeans and breaking school rules by wearing a snapback hat indoors. He puts down his phone, stuffing the device and his earphones into his pocket and shrugs. “Bathroom.”

You smile, covering your mouth with your hand. “You’re not skipping class, are you?”

“Nah.” His hands dig around his clothing and he hums. “Do you have some change I can borrow? I need to buy something at the vending machine and I think I forgot my wallet at home.”

“Oh, no problem.” You reach into your own pocket before taking out the tiny pink pouch that your aunt gave to you for your birthday. It takes a second until you take out a five dollar bill, lifting it up and into his palm. Your fingertips accidentally brush against his skin and you withdraw your limb like the movement burns you. Hoseok gives you a strange look but dismisses it.

“I-I don’t have change, just this but you can keep it. You don’t have to pay it back to me.”

The boy appears stunned and he furrows his brows. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear but realizing that it reveals more of your imperfect complexion, you downcast your head. Hoseok’s stare was becoming too intense anyways. “It’s fine.”

“Are you going back to class?” he asks and you nod. “We can go together then.”

“Don’t you need to use the washroom?”

“It’s fine. I’ll walk you back.”

“O-okay then.” It’s terribly awkward and you loathe yourself on having such inept social skills. If it were anyone else, they’d probably be able to find another topic of conversation and switch over smoothly, destroying the tense silence but alas, you are only a twelve-year old who has no such natural talent. “How are you? We haven’t talked in a while. What kind of classes do you have?”

The subject that you do bring up makes you cringe inside.

Who even wants to talk about school in their free time?!

Hoseok seems to get an inkling of your inner turmoil since he rips his eyes away from the profile of your face to the end of the corridor, smiling to himself discreetly. “Y/N, we literally have the same classes together. We see each other everyday.”

“Right.” You recoil, cheeks becoming warm with embarrassment. “Well, we might see each other, but we don’t really talk. You’re always sitting in the back of the classroom.”

“And you’re sitting in the front.” The adolescent beside you laughs. “Who knew Y/N would one day become the smartest student?”

“I-I’m not. Plus, I’m sure you get better grades than I do.” It was true, anytime the teacher asked you to hand back tests or quizzes, you snuck a peek at the grade marked in the corner of the page and for every single one, he either got a hundred or close to it. Most of your peers didn’t know but you did. “You’re the smarter one here, I suck at math and science and-.....Hoseok? Is there something wrong?”

His eyes are fixated on your mouth. “No. You just have a little of pink right there.”

He points to your cupid’s bow and you reach up, flustered and perplexed that he noticed the makeup you put on. You wonder if it’s bad or if it makes you even uglier than before. “Where?”

“Almost. To the left a bit.”

“Here?”

“To the right. Up. No. Go down a bit. Here, let me do it.” Hoseok pulls you in with a gentle hand on your shoulder and his thumb on his other hand raises to your lips, rubbing away the colour. The touch is feather-light but from the mere proximity, you’re absolutely stunned at what’s happening. Your eyes enlarge, heartbeat pounding in your ears and your mouth fills with cotton.

Whether he’s actually dense, or he knows the effect you get from him, he doesn’t make any comments. After a moment, Hoseok pulls away. “There. It looks pretty nice, by the way.”

“T-thanks.” The pair of you walk the rest of the way in silence. It’s only when you’ve reached the classroom door that you notice he’s a few meters behind you, lingering and glancing at the ceiling. “Are you not coming in?”

He hitches his thumb to the other end. “I have to grab something at my locker so you should go in first.”

“Okay.” You watch his backside disappear slowly, counting each step the boy takes that increases the distance and leaves you farther away from him. Since when did he become so tall? You’re not sure but all you know is that there’s a feeling inside your chest, depriving from an unknown source and you inhale a breath, taking the leap of courage.

“Wait. Hoseok.”

He turns. “Hmm?”

Perhaps it is destiny that has given you the bravery that you’ve lacked for so many years.

“I’m sorry for not talking to you more. Sometimes it’s difficult since you’re friends with those guys and I’m-”

You have no one. You’re not pretty. You can’t socialize well. You’re literally the most boring person on this planet. And you harbour a huge fat crush that inhibits you from making any interaction towards him.

“We’re both in different circles.” Hoseok finishes your sentence and you laugh stiffly. That too. Yet, despite your self-consciousness and metal self-deprecation, he laughs happily and it alleviates the mood. “No, I get that. Don’t worry about it.”

“I just think we should talk more. I kind of...miss….you…” You’re mumbling at this point, volume becoming quieter and quieter until it’s a squeak. You don’t even know what the hell you’re saying and your face is on fire. It doesn't help that Hoseok's gazing at you so intently without speaking a single word.

“...that’s all.” To save yourself from further embarrassment, you quickly turn to the door, hand grabbing the door, ready to twist your wrist and enter inside.

Except, you never get the chance.

“Wait. Y/N.” Your old childhood friend has his hand wrapped around your wrist and if steam wasn’t leaving your ears before, now it is. “I lied.”

“What?”

“I didn’t forget my wallet. I don’t even need to buy anything in the vending machine.” He diverts his eyes, avoiding your stare and frown of confusion. “The rest of class made a mess, and then they ditched to go to the cafeteria. If you go back, you’ll get in trouble for sure.”

Even with the delayed response from your end, you can only manage one single syllable. “What?”

“I’m sorry for lying.” After his stupid classmates had ran wild, throwing paint all over the walls, flipping over tables and desks when the substitute teacher had walked out of the room, they all grabbed their bags and spirited away. The first person Hoseok thought about was you.

You had left to go to the washroom, unaware of what was unfolding and instead of leaving with his friends, he wandered around till he found you. A sick, twisted part of him was curious to see how stupid and gullible you are - he wasn’t disappointed either. You believed him so easily, he didn’t even need to try. But what Hoseok failed to calculate was his own guilt and his weakness.

You.

“You can hate me if you want to, that doesn’t matter.” He reaches to grab the five dollar bill, and he slaps it back into your hands. “And you can snitch to the principal but don’t go back in.”

“Hoseok.” A smile slips on your lips and you become sheepish. “I don’t hate you. Far from it actually. Just...I could never hate you. You’re still my friend.” Hoseok’s fingers still wrapped around yours, preventing you from entering the horrific classroom and the dollar bill in your other hand proves it so. “So, let’s go?”

Your friend smiles, releasing his grip and grateful that you don’t want to kick his ass. “Last one to the vending machines has to buy!”

A gasp sounds from your mouth when he takes off running and you laugh, shouting after him and probably disturbing all the other classes going on. “Hey! That’s so not fair!”

The class drones on and on. It’s absolutely unbearable. Heads are bobbing up and down, trying to stay awake while some have given up all together, sleeping on their desks with their heads rested in their folded arms. The teacher doesn’t seem to care, continuing with her lesson as it was planned.

“Soulmates are a very peculiar phenomenon in our modern society today and many scientists have yet to discover the reason as to why since it isn’t very biologically efficient. It doesn’t seem like genetics or family history play a huge part, sometimes soulmates are outright opposites while other times they are very similar to each other. It may just be a psychological occurrence.”

“All they have been able to conclude thus far is when soulmates meet, both parties experience a euphoria of emotions, each of them enhanced and the effects are very similar to some type of drugs out there. The love and passion are like none other. Typically, there are two types of soulmates that people can have. One, there is literally only one person that is your soulmate. Two, there are several people living in the world that could be your soulmate. It differs with each individual and again, no one knows the answer yet. Perhaps someday we'll know.”

The only person actually listening is some guy at the front of the class. He raises his hand and the teacher calls upon him. “What about people who don’t have either?”

“Ah...yes...those folks are...rare and far in between.” The teacher wears a melancholic expression, seemingly a bit uncomfortable with the topic. “People without soulmates can find companionship, but they most likely end up alone, in this life and the next and the next….”

She concludes with- “it’s unfortunate.”

Your forehead nearly smacks against the wooden surface of the desk as you’re lulled to sleep but your neck snaps back before you can hurt yourself. Fuck. You rub your eyes, screaming inside your head out of pure boredom. Then, an idea flickers inside your brain and you lean over to your friend sitting beside you in the other row.

“Hey, I’ll make a bet with you.” At your voice, she perks her head up, eyes sparkling in interest. “Bet Mr. Min won’t visit Ms. Kang today. Five bucks, what do you think?”

She smirks. “You’re on.”

Lo and behold, the familiar blonde headed teacher sticks his head through the door, thankfully interrupting class and cracking a few jokes while shocking sleeping students awake with his cheerful voice. As Ms. Kang flirts with the chemistry teacher, your friend giggles while you pull out a crisp bill, handing it to her.

“Okay, you win this time.” You sulk, looking back into your barren pocket.

“I’ll bet you one more time.” Your friend grins, starting to have fun since class began. “If Mr. Min doesn’t stay for more than ten minutes, I’ll give you your five dollars back and an additional ten. But if he does stay for over ten minutes, I get ten bucks from you.”

You contemplate the options, weighing each reward and consequence. It sounded appealing, not only would you get your money back but even more? Plus, Ms. Kang was actually teaching a full lesson today and there was a test tomorrow. Surely, he would leave, so she could continue addressing the class. You smirk at your newfound confidence. “You’re on.”

In the next twelve minutes, you hand over more money.

Your friend laughs her head off, clutching onto your stomach and you can only sigh from your multiple defeats. Another classmate turns around and asks what the two of you are up to.

“We’re making bets.” Your friend wipes away the tears that have welled up. “Y/N keeps losing.”

“Ooh count me in.”

Someone else who was eavesdropping swivels around. “Me too.”

The teacher is still chatting away with Mr. Min at the front of the classroom with a group of students while the rest of you wait in boredom. There’s nothing like an entertaining game with monetary prizes to liven up an atmosphere. “Who wants to bet that she’ll forget to hand out homework?”

“Let’s bet to see if this paper airplane can go outside the window and into the classroom across from us.”

“Bet that I can’t sneak out without anyone else noticing.”

By the end of the hour and by the time the lunch bell has rung, your wallet is completely empty and everyone else has left to go eat. As you collect your belongings, stuffing markers and pens back into the pencil case, grabbing your notebooks and slinging your backpack around one shoulder, you can only hope that time will move quicker.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, hey Hobi.” You smile, watching him grab his water bottle that he accidentally left near his chair at the back. “I’m fucking broke, that’s what.”

He opens the door and you both walk out together. “You shouldn’t keep making bets with people if you’re always losing. Your gambling skills suck.”

You exhale, having too many regrets and fearing what your dad will say when you ask him for a second allowance this week. The money from your summer part-time job was gone as well and all you can think of doing is sobbing on your knees, pleading about your penniless lifestyle. “I thought I could win my money back.”

“Never go to a casino, you idiot.” Hoseok stops by his locker and throws his biology textbook inside. He closes it and walks diagonally down the hall to your own locker where you grab your gym bag for your next class after the bell. “You’d end up wasting your life savings away and you’d be living under a bridge.”

“Isn’t that where we’re all heading anyway?”

He laughs and swings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as you two accompany each other in synchronized steps. It’s a familiar gesture and you’re no longer flustered from being in a close proximity from Hoseok. The infatuation that plagued you during your preteen years has long disappeared.

High School was a whole nother game, people dating more seriously and futures on the horizon. You couldn’t be very bothered to crush over an old friend when you were more preoccupied with getting into the university you wanted.

“Why are you glaring at me?”

“I’m not.”

At this age, you thought Hoseok would reach his own ugly phase. Puberty tended to affect boys in later years but even at sixteen, the bastard is still decent looking. While you grew more into your skin, learnt to become comfortable in your body and appreciate your flaws for what they are, you expected him to go through a similar thing that you did back then. Yet, never in a day of his life did Hoseok have awkward limbs or bad skin or an awful haircut. Rather, his rounded cheeks were becoming chiseled, his jawline sharper and his hair gelled into a neat fashion.

And for you, rather than admiring his handsome looks, you’re goddamn jealous of his genetics and beautiful face. Why did fate have to be such an unfair bitch?

“You spent your lunch money, didn’t you?”

On cue, your stomach grumbles and you give him a surprised look. “How did you know?”

“Cause you don’t have any control.” Hoseok reaches over, pinching your cheek and you slap his hand away, cringing at the thought of his dirty fingers clogging your pores and giving you acne. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

You halt on your toes. He turns around.

“Wait. Really?!”

The boy smiles, his grin loosely resembling a heart shape. His eyes crinkle slightly and a bubbling laughter spills from his mouth. “Yeah, but you owe me big time.”

“When don’t I?” You smile, catching up to him and giving him a good old noogie. “You’re the best.”

His smile becomes sheepish, and he gazes at you for a long moment, savouring in your touch and presence. “I know.”

There was something strange about you. From the moment he had met you a decade ago and held out his hand, he always felt a tugging feeling in his chest, as if you were familiar, and he knew you from somewhere else, from somewhere far away. But you weren’t his soulmate.

Such a thing was impossible for Jung Hoseok.

The world revolves around the concept of soulmates.

You didn’t realize it until you became much older and you stepped out from the small schools that you went to, the same classes and circle of friends that shuffled together from one year to the next. College was a time when your world expanded ten folds, where you couldn’t recognize three quarters of your classmates, where campus made you lost every single day.

It also opened to your eyes to the obsession that people had with soulmates; how some folks were absolute consumed with it, going out to bars to talk to strangers, testing to see if they were a kindred soul, having date after date, entering camps and exclusive clubs to seek out their match, downloading special apps on phones to search for their true love.

One of the few questions that you were asked quite frequently was: ‘have you found the one yet?’

Your answer didn’t matter as much as the pitying expressions, the words of consolation of ‘you’ll find one soon’ and how people told their own stories of how they accidentally ran into the person they were meant to be with, and they knew instantly at that second. They always said that no matter where you went, where you’d go off to, your soulmate would end up finding you.

That’s how fate is supposed to work.

Except it worked much differently for you- “I’m never going to find my soulmate, am I?”

“What?” Your dad puts down his spoon, startled and taken back. The dinner table is silenced. “Who told you that?”

“Some people just take a bit of time.” Your mom smiles to soothe your nonsensical worries. “I know it took me years to run into your dad.”

You sigh, recalling the memory like it's imprinted to the back of your hand. “Grandma told me I'd be single for my entire life and the next.”

“Dear…your grandmother was very ill before she died. She just didn't know what she was saying. Don't let it get to you.”

“She told me that a long time before she passed away.” You look at your parents for an extended moment, holding your breath in your lungs. You're an adult now and you have a right to know the truth. “You guys know it, right? Can you please not lie to me?”

“Don't give up hope, you hear me?” Your mother lectures, tone becoming stern and unyielding for any retorts or comments. “I don't care what the doctors, nurses and psychologists say or even what your grandma told you. You’ll meet the one.”

She says it with such certainty, like she's declaring the sun will rise again. “And when you do, you’ll know instantly.”

You've heard it a million times before, the way your friends have described it, you've even seen it with your own eyes. It's supposed to be a burst of electricity, where the heart stops and the breath gets caught. The universe is supposed to shine in brighter hues, becoming vibrant and louder; happiness will become euphoria and love will become a deepening and familiar companion.

The gaping hole that individuals never knew existed will be filled. They will no longer walk alone. They'll feel whole. It's everything that Hollywood movies show except it's real. It's perfect. It's a rose-coloured world.

And all you can do is roll your eyes each and every time you hear it.

Some people are born without soulmates. There’s no rhyme or reason. It has nothing to do with the way you were brought up, the environment factors or your genetic material. Like some people are innately extroverted or introverted. There’s nothing you can do about it and that thought hurts you even more.

Your world isn’t rose but a green-coloured world.

“Wait! Wait for me! Please!”

Despite your arm waving in the air, heaving breaths shouting through the sky, the bus pulls away from the curb, signalling into the lane. “Fuck!” Your arm tightens around the strap of your bag and you pick up your speed, racing with all your might. “Stop!”

The heavy rain beats down on top of your head, rattling the inside of your skull. The surroundings have turned into a shade of grey, vision clouded with water droplets clinging onto your lashes, each step splattering puddles onto your pants. But it doesn’t matter that you’re being drenched as if you stepped into the shower. You’re late for class.

If you miss this bus then you’re done for.

“I’m here! I’m here!”

Right where you’re mere meters from the bus’ door, your foot juts out for another leap but you miscalculate your environment and your front toes collide onto the metal pole bus sign.

“OW! FUCKING SHIT!”

Pain shoots up your spine and you’re forced to stumble, crouching over and clutching onto your dirtied shoe. The passersby with their umbrellas or under the bus shelter don’t bat a single eyelash and you are alone, under the rain, putting pressure on your wound. It feels like you’ve just broken your foot or a toenail was ripped off, that it’s bleeding in your sock. To top off the agony, like a cherry thrown on top of a sundae, the bus merges and drives off, disappearing in the distant fog.

“Are you kidding me?!” You sob out to the crying sky, knocking your head back and letting your stubbed toes pulsate and throb inside your shoe.

You don’t have an umbrella. Your phone is dead. There’s no way you can contact an Uber. Thus, all you can do is limp your way to school in the pouring storm, looking at the roads every so often for a taxi. Fortunately, fate isn’t such a nasty bitch when you catch a yellow vehicle driving down the street. Unfortunately, the taxi doesn’t see you in time and it drives past, too close to the gutter.

The sewer water splashes like an ocean wave crashing on the shore and if you weren’t drenched before, now you’re soaking wet, drowning in rainwater and sewage.

“Y/N?”

A familiar and warm presence appears behind you. Their umbrella drapes over your head, shielding you away from the cold droplets and it patters on the green canopy instead. Instead of bursting into tears like you felt you should, a smile graces your lips. You’ve never been more thankful to have this person around and in your life.

No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ve been having the shittiest day, Hobi. Literally the worst.” You turn around with a massive pout, sulking at your situation and cringing at how your textbooks and laptop in your bag are probably wet as well. “But what are you doing here?”

He hitches his thumb to the black car parked by the curb. “I was driving past and I thought I saw you. I stopped to make sure. Aren’t you going to be late for class though? Get in my car, I can drive you to school.”

“A-are you sure? I mean, I’m soaking right now and I can just keep walking-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” He grins, patting your head to placate your worries, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder to support you to the toasty vehicle. His other hand is holding the handle of the umbrella, and he tilts it to cover you completely, letting the rain drizzle on his left side. Your old friend doesn’t seem that concerned about getting drenched and momentarily, the pain in your foot has alleviated. “I have class anyways. We’re going to the same place.”

Before getting into the car, you shift your head to gaze into his softened, brown irises.

Regardless of what troubles you face, the struggles that present itself, Jung Hoseok is always around the corner. He’s your truest friend, the one who has stood by you for the longest time and the man makes your heart sing soothing lullabies. Maybe you’ll never have a soulmate but at least you have him.

“Thank you.”

He grins and you’ve sincerely never felt more gratitude.

Falling in love with Hoseok is a complete accident.

Sure, it might’ve been predictable to everyone else since all the cliché romance books and movies always depict childhood friends becoming lovers, unrequited loves and harboured crushes becoming reciprocated, happily ever afters emerging from the horizons. You just never knew it was going to happen to you.

You might’ve been massively infatuated with Hoseok years ago but you thought you grew out of that phase. At the end of the day, he’s a good friend; someone who watched you pick your nose in preschool, when you shit yourself in kindergarten because you couldn’t control your bowels yet, the time he witnessed when you called your teacher ‘mom’. He’s been through it all, thick and thin, disgusting and all the rancid memories. Your family knows his, mothers that have become friends themselves and fathers buddies. Hoseok was supposed to be a brother to you.

But lo and behold, you had to catch feelings.

Fate was a cunning asshole.

“Sorry for getting your car all wet. I was sitting in class dripping everywhere.” You wring out a bundle of your hair, the damp strands clinging to your neck in an uncomfortable fashion.

Hoseok, from across the table, wriggles his brows up and down. “Oh, I don’t mind if you’re wet at all.”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes, playfully scoffing at the innuendo. Brushing it off, you set aside your laptop to look at your friend. “Thanks though. I think I would’ve been screwed if I had to walk.”

“Jung Hoseok here to save the day again!” He gives a blazing smile, pretending to be a superhero as he does the superman pose. You laugh, and he lowers his fist, expression melting into a warmer smile. “But is your foot okay? You were limping.”

You’re surprised that he noticed but you nod. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

The library is deathly quiet on a Friday at nine o’ clock. There are only a few people sitting around and assistants shelving books. At twenty-one, it isn’t uncommon for your peers to be out at a frat house or crashing a venue around campus, getting wasted and grinding up on each other, maybe meeting ‘the one’ out on the dance floor or at the bar. Hoseok has especially made a name for himself in the years at college, dating around and being the life of the party.

It’s not necessarily a bad thing but you’ve felt slightly alienated from him since you weren’t big on the whole partying thing. You’d much prefer to curl up on a couch, binging on Netflix and chewing on snacks in the comfort of your own home.

“Why are you here? Weren’t you invited to any parties?”

“Nah, I don’t feel like it. Why would I want to go to one when you’re sitting right here.” His greasy remark has you huffing out tiredly, and he giggles. “Plus, who would drive you home?”

“I can take public transit, you know. It runs until twelve.” You don’t want to be a burden to Hoseok or make him babysit you like a little sister or a pet. If he’s here for the wrong reasons, it would hurt even more than if you were alone. “And aren’t you seeing Yoonji right now? You should probably be out with her instead of me.”

“No, I’m not seeing her.” He resists the urge to pull on your puffed out cheeks. Hoseok leans his chin in his propped up hand, savouring your sulking expression. “I’m single actually, have been for a long time now. And also, if I hear that you got murdered on your way home or if you slipped on some water and broke a hip, my mom would never be able to forgive me. She’ll burn my entire manga collection and probably run me over with her car.”

“Of course your mom would.” You stick out your tongue, intentionally ignoring what he said about not dating anyone. “She loves me a lot more than she loves you.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that.” The man lazily flips through his textbook, barely skimming the pages and not reading correctly like how he should be. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“Have you been seeing anyone?”

Your head perks up from the document on your laptop and you give the most unimpressed expression, arousing laughter from the male. “Do you think I have? No one can love me - I’m unlovable.”

That and you don’t have a soulmate.

“That’s not true. I love you.”

What. No. Wait. He probably means it in a brotherly-friendship kind of way.

“Righttttt...” You bob your head up and down, narrowing your eyes and forcing yourself to dispel away all your delusional thoughts. “Well, I love you too.”

“Okay, great.” He looks up from his textbook. “We should go on a date then.”

“.....” There’s a pause. He waits patiently with a smile. You stare at him. “What?!”

“It’s really convenient.” He quirks his head to the side, mischief glimmering in his orbs. “I love you, you love me. It works out. So, we should go on a date...unless you don’t want to.”

“....I-I do but where is this coming from, Hoseok?” You lower your pitch, leaning closer as if someone from the ten tables over could hear. The situation unravelling before you is so sudden that you fail to wrap your brain around it.

“What do you mean ‘where is this coming from’?” The male gives you a look. “Hasn’t it been obvious? I’ve liked you for years! And wow, I can’t believe you’re making me expose myself to you when you haven’t even bought me dinner yet.”

He throws his arms over his chest, appearing vandalized but you’re in no mood for jokes.

“B-but...but…” All those signs that you convinced yourself weren’t signs are actually signs?

The endeared gazes, the overly affectionate physical contact, the lingering touches, the smiles and late night texts were all indications. Your mind is reeling from memories for the past decade, wondering if this or that was evidence for his hidden feelings. It feels surreal, like a dream.

You fear if you wake up from it, reality and fate will be much crueler.

“You don’t need to feel pressured, Y/N.” Hoseok stares down at his textbook, avoiding your eyes and becoming embarrassed about finally declaring his feelings openly to you. His voice is quiet but you can hear each word, carrying a weight that bears sincerity in each syllable.

“You can say no if you want to, and we can go back to being friends. I just...I never knew if the feelings were mutual and the timing was always off. I tried to date other people but it...didn’t work out.”

He takes a deep breath, put on the spot and pressured not to mess up. You’re an important person in his life and the last thing he wants is to scare you off forever.

“What about your soulmate?”

It’s the first thing that crosses your mind, a concern that is unbearable and one you can’t erase away. What’s the point of creating something more if he’ll meet his soulmate later on. You’ll be left in the dust, alone, forced to face the memories of ‘what happened but could never last’.

But Jung Hoseok, being the person that he is, always manages to make your anxieties disappear.

“You don’t have to worry about something like that.”

It’s too simple of an answer. Yet, like the fool that you are, you trust in him. “Okay. Let’s go on a date then.”

A grin spreads across his face, one that swells his cheeks and heart. “Right now.”

You flinch when he suddenly slaps his textbook closed and you follow along, packing away your laptop and pens. Luckily, no one was really around to be angry over the disturbances the pair of you were making. “Right now?”

Hoseok smiles. “Last one out the library has to pay.”

Fate is too kind - and you realize so when you become aware that you were never alone.

“You’re on.”

Each person born is destined for one or perhaps several. They’re fated to fall in love with their other half, a kindred spirit or soul, or a fragment of themselves. The love could be a whirlwind of romance rendezvous, a heated passion pressed between sheets or a comforting presence that makes home a true home. Each individual has a chance to make their heart feel full, their soul fulfilled and any loneliness is dispelled away.

You have Jung Hoseok.

He’s a friend and companion, a partner that you cherish. While one date becomes two and three and five until you’ve lost count, all you know is that soulmate or not, you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your days with him.

“That movie was really good, like did you see the part where he came out of the space shuttle to confront her on the planet Neptune? Like wow, I thought he was going to die for sure but he risked his life for her. And then-”

“Hoseok.” You stop in the parking lot of the theaters, twisting on your ankle to look at him.

A sweet smile is still on his mouth, and he quirks his head to the side. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

The boy’s taken back and he laughs. “Where did that come from?”

“I was thinking about it the whole day today.” You play with the hem of your sweater, diverting your attention elsewhere while you murmur softly, “We’ve been on so many dates, but we haven’t really done anything aside from holding hands…..”

Albeit it was strange to date such a good friend, you still longed to get closer to him.

Hoseok throws back his head like he’s in pain, and he whines. “I was going to kiss you later before you left but you beat me to it.” He pouts in defeat and then steps closer, cupping your cheeks in his palms with a softened smile. “Of course you can kiss me, Y/N. You don’t really need to ask.”

Your eyes flutter shut and his close. Together, you move closer inch by inch until you can feel his lips on yours. A smile moves across your face, and he presses harder, tilting his head while you throw your arms around his neck. It’s nice but kind of awkward. The movement is foreign to you, though the pleasant tingles melt any tension in your muscles.

Hoseok deepens the kiss, making a muffled sound leave your throat, and he savours your taste on his tongue. But suddenly, one moment you feel pleasure and the next, your head begins to throb.

You don’t pull away, too addicted to his kiss. Then, there’s a burst of electricity.

The flare rushes to your fingertips, heart stuttering, breath choking you. Underneath your eyelids, the universe halts and then begins to revolve again, faster, louder until it’s deafening and shining in such bright hues that it’s blinding. The happiness that rings through your bones becomes euphoria and love slaps you across the cheek.

Maybe this is what people described when they meet your soulmate. But no. It’s much different from that.

You are not so fortunate of an individual.

An onslaught of memories, versions of yourself across centuries, comes barging through the door in screams. They shout and screech, begging to know as to what the hell you’re doing. The thumping of your head becomes white noise. You pull away from Hoseok like he burns you.

The boy is as startled as you are, eyes wide, staggering back until he collapses on the concrete ground.

“I-I remember…”

You stare at him in sheer horror. “Fuck you.”

Fate has never once smiled at you, it was cackling. Fate was never kind either, it was absolutely vicious. And instead of a soulmate, you have something much different. Jung Hoseok is a parasite that transcends time, destined to run each path that you take. He is an enemy.

You’ve finally woken up from the dream.

[16th Century]

A gentle knock on the door wakes you from your slumber.

You sit up amidst the silk sheets and the hinges of the massive wooden door creaks. A servant maid peeks her head through the gap and the light from the hallway sheds into the darkened room. “Good morning, your royal highness.”

“Is there a cause for your disturbance?”

The tone of your voice rings above the high ceilings and the girl noticeably winces. She keeps her head downcasted. “Yo-your highness, the artisan has arrived.”

“Is that so?” You hum a thoughtful note before snapping back at her, “then what are you waiting for? Help me prepare.”

Immediately she enters and draws the heavy curtains away from the window. Sunshine meets your eyes and you find a smile emerging on your lips. She guides you off the bed, helping you splash your face with a cloth, combing your hair back and pinning it up with green ribbons and ropes of pearls. The lace corset is tied tightly around your abdomen, restricting your breathing but you endure it as you study the dress in the mirror. It’s a rather simple dress, a natural waistline and floor length, flowy sleeves and skirt, the jade fabric decorated with golden colours.

“I think this is perfect, don’t you?”

You twirl in front a few times and the maid smiles. “Yes, your highness. You look marvelous.”

Upon being satisfied with her response, you address your servant one last time. “Do not utter a word to the king that I am meeting the painter, understood? If he asks of my presence, tell him I am in the study quarters.”

“Yes, your highness.”

The gardens are far away, across towers and courtyards, but you make it there in less than five minutes while hitching your clothing up by the fistful, running in the most unsophisticated manner that would surely cause scoldings from your mother. Yet, you continue on your way nevertheless.

It’s only a strong gust of wind and an accidental misstep causes you to stumble. You are pushed to the ground, colliding onto the verdant grass, a shock rippling through your body. Immediately, you are shamed. Your knees are bruised, your gown soiled and palms stained with dirt. In the delayed second, as pain shoots up your bones, your bottom lip trembles, threatening to break out into sobs.

“Do not cry, your highness.”

You lift your chin and a tall shadow looms over you. The man wears no smile, an emerald circular cloak draped over his shoulders and an embroidered shirt underneath. His gaze is not cold but intense, yet, it does not make you waver or scared. Instead, your eyes follow his command, halting the tears that were to fall like raindrops.

“Only infants shed such heart wrenching tears.” A soft smile appears across his lips, a fixated stare on your flushing visage but the serious man is the same age as you. His pitch black hair is more like a ruffled cloud, strands poking out in every direction and some paint has splattered on the skin of his cheek. “And I fear it would ruin your beauty.”

He holds his hand out to you, palm facing upwards. You sniffle for a moment and then your arm reaches out, fingers clasping his and the male lifts you off your feet. The touch is soothing and light, causing your heart to soar inside your chest.

“Don’t be foolish. I’ve never shed tears before you, understood?”

You dust off your dress and he grins.

“Yes, your highness.”

The man tries to loosen his grip on your hand but fails to do so when you grasp at him tighter, lacing your fingers through his and not allowing him to let go. A snort of air leaves his nose, and he accepts the new position, guiding you deeper into the royal gardens with bushes of foreign flowers and tall trees lining the cobblestone paths, the scent of florals wafting through the air.

Farther into the quaint and private place, a canvas is set around vivid oil paints and brushes. He has begun to recreate the image of the blooming orchards and you study the artwork that has yet to be completed.

“My father has commissioned you as the royal painter but why have you not painted me?”

Your dress twirls when you look at him again. Jung Hoseok, the man who creates another world with brilliant hues, passionately brushing strokes along the canvas, has been by your side for months and here he is once more, smiling at you.

“I cannot, your highness.” He lowers his head. “I fear that there is no paint I could use that would show how brightly your eyes shine.”

You spin around to face the bushes, cheeks flaming with each praise. “Please, you flatter me too much, painter.”

“Ah, but my words are too true, your highness.” He paces around and you lock your gaze upon his. “My skills would be no match to the reality of your beauty.”

You sigh, longing to have the man closer. Each second and minute that passes feels too short.

“Painter, I fear my lonely soul enjoys your companionship too much. It’s a shame that you were not born of a royal lineage. My father would never allow such a partnership. He would rather let this kingdom crumble than to give my hand to a commoner.”

“I understand your woes too clearly, your highness.” He takes three delicate strides to meet you in the middle of the grassy area, chest pressed upon chest and his fingers lightly skimming over your blooming cheeks. If anyone from the court were to catch you in such a position, the painter’s life would be at risk, but he seems to pay no mind to such thing.

“And although I hunger to clutch your hand to my chest, embrace your being, declare you as mine and taste those lips with my own, we are but star crossed lovers.” He exhales, sorrow dripping from his honeyed eyes. “Fate is not so kind to folk like us.”

You turn away from him in despair, staring up at the cerulean sky and wondering if the Heavens could ever grant you mercy in the name of love. “Eventually, I will be wedded off to somewhere far. The thought makes my heart ache in agony.”

Your voice breaks and you plead with him. “Painter, would it be so shameful for me to ask you for a single kiss?”

“Of course not, your highness.” He caresses your face and you melt within the touch. Your eyes shut and he leans in closer. “It is my duty to fulfill your wishes.”

The kiss is the gentlest of touches, lips pressed upon lips, a bittersweet taste that cannot be savoured, a salty hint caused by your teardrop, the deepest of yearnings and aches for more.

Why must fate be so cruel?

It is of the midnight hour when the maid comes barging into your room unwarranted without even a single knock. It startles you to the point where you spring up from your silk bed sheets, gasping and ready to reprimand her but the maid’s wheezes and the distant shouting stops you from doing so.

You climb out of your bed, taking a robe and covering up your sleeping attire. “What is the matter with you? Speak!”

“R-rebels have stormed the castle,” she weeps, grabbing onto your arm and falling to the ground, kneeling on the floor, crying and sobbing with all her might.

The shock is delayed. “Pardon?!”

The young girl shakes her head, trying to regain composure amidst the mournful grieving. “T-they have captured your m-mother a-and your father has been executed.” You stagger backwards, and she crawls to you, gripping the hem of your dress. “Run, princess.”

She screams- “Run before they catch you!”

There’s not a single thing in your hands but your life as you flee the castle walls. The rebels are shouting together, holding torches and capturing any royal member as they scour each room and rip apart all the walls. The knights have fallen, advisors and servants alike being severed of their heads. Blood pours down the courtyard and a couple of paces away from the forest, a misstep causes you to collide against the cobblestone, a cry befalling of your mouth, skin scraped and blood trickling from the wounds.

A tall shadow looms over you. You lift your chin. The man wears no smile. His gaze is cold.

You smile, sighing of relief and thankful that the painter is here with you. Perhaps, you can flee together and finally live the life that you’ve always wanted. Except, he does not lift out his hand to pick you off your feet, he bends his knees, squatting down and quirking his head as he stares at you.

“H-hoseok, what is going on?” You begin to waver from the sharp intensity of his eyes. Any trace of warmth has disappeared, and he seems more amused that you have fallen than worried. “P-Please tell me. I’m s-so scared.”

Tears seep down your cheeks like raindrops. He doesn’t tell you to stop crying.

Hoseok smirks. The corner of his lip tugs in a menacing way and his fingers reach out to hold your chin. He leans in, placing a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, and then he parts, admiring the confused expression marring your visage. “Oh princess, you are too innocent for your own good.”

Your voice does not come out strong but weak. “E-explain yourself.”

“All of this couldn’t have succeeded without your efforts.” He gestures behind him to the castle, your precious home, that was now being set on fire. Screams of the maids and dukes ricochets to your ears, and he doesn’t allow you to cover them up or cower away.

Hoseok forces you to watch the scorching flames.

“Not only did you advocate me to the king and allowed me into the castle but you fell in love with me as well and offered yourself fully. Such a foolish yet endearing character.” He shoves you away and stands, dusting his hands off and watching you pathetically cry.

“And you were right. Your father would’ve been so shameful to have a daughter like you who helped overthrow the kingdom. Too bad he’s already dead.”

You can’t wrap your mind around it. All of this is too absurd. Surely, it must be a dream. Hoseok would never treat you this way. He would never betray your trust. You love him.

“W-what?”

“Do you still not understand?” He looks over to the symbol sewn on his clothing, the green mark of the rebels. Your stomach turns and vomit threatens to crawl up your throat. You claw at your skin, teeth gritted and jaw clenched.

“Y-you...you liar.” You spit at him, each heavy syllable oozing of venom. “You wretched bastard.”

Hoseok tips his head back and chuckles. “There is no use in sprouting such vulgarities, Y/N. A revolutionary is needed for the people. They are suffering in ways you will never know. Your ignorance is too great. Life isn’t generous outside of your castle of silks.”

The betrayal is too much for your heart to bear.

No amount of rage or sadness, fury or anguish could display the turmoil sewn into your soul, the heartbreak that shatters inside your chest. Jung Hoseok hovers above your small frame. He stares down at you. “But because you demonstrated such benevolence to me and made my job so simple, I will give you ten seconds. Run or the rebels will slaughter you without mercy.”

Your fragile body hauls itself upwards and despite the screams of your bones, the faintness in your head that swirls the world around, you falter down the hill, racing into the forest. You abandon your people, your family and home, the love that you held onto. You will never forget.

And you will never forgive.

Jung Hoseok laughs and gazes at your form. It reminds him of a little sheep running away from a pack of wolves. He muses that it was truly a shame; a shame that you weren’t part of the rebels and merely destined to be star-crossed lovers with him.

For the rest of your life, you live in the dirty alleyways as a peasant, scraping after other’s leftovers, bugs crawling in your hair and biting your skin, teeth rotting and clothes tattered up. You sob until you can no longer afford to expel water from your body and the short days of your life consists of recalling your warm family and the beautiful life you once had.

When you die, the last thing you think about is Jung Hoseok and your undying wrath.

[17th Century]

“Where is my notebook?”

You’re scouring in the tiny room, searching among the stacks of parchment, quills and bottles of blackened ink, tugging up your wrinkled olive dress. You pull up the smooth narrow sleeves, wincing at the troublesome lace cuffs and you tug on the strings of the small bodice for more breathing space. As you scour your belongings, the bun that was tied to the back of your head begins to loosen and clusters of curls framing your face tickles your nose. The sweat at your forehead slicks down your face and your appearance becomes disheveled in your franticness.

“My notebook….notebook.” You gasp underneath your breath, standing straight again. “Was it stolen?!”

There’s a knock and a short laugh. “Did you lose something again?”

A man in a white linen shirt, dark trousers and a navy coat stands at the doorway, hands held behind his back as he watches you fumble about. “Yes, it’s going to be the end of me, Hoseok, if I can’t find it.”

“Well, lucky for you-” He takes a few steps forward and reveals what’s hidden behind his back, unbending both arms and presenting it out in front of you. Another gasp spills from your lips and your eyes widen from the familiar leather bound notebook. “-I found it.”

You grasp at the pages, taking it into your hands and feeling the wrinkled pages full of scribbles and doodles made in ink. You choke out the words of gratitude, grinning so widely that your cheeks might burst and your eyes well up with happiness. “Thank you.”

“Thank you. I-I thought it was lost forever.”

The man opens his mouth to reply but you smother him in a tight embrace. Hoseok wheezes, making coughing sounds from the pressure of your arms, and he even mutters your name after a minute but you don’t let go of him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re very welcome, Y/N.” He gently moves your arms from his back. “But you should let go of me.”

If someone were to see, surely rumours would spread like wildfire. Folks in the village were already whispering of how he came and went inside your abode for hours on end and until the sun went down; a gesture such as an embrace would certainly be scandalous and soil your name.

You comply, loosening your grip, and he slides away from you with a rather striking smile. “You ought to be more organized, Y/N. At this rate, you’d lose your head and I’d have to go looking for it.”

A grin sneaks up your mouth. “That’s why I have you.”

The man exhales, continuing on the other subject as you move away. “I hope you do not mind but on my way here, I’ve read the latest entries.”

“And?” You settle yourself down in the wooden chair facing the windows, preparing a new bottle of ink to begin the next story. “What did you think?”

“As usual, there was nothing amiss, quite good actually. Just, your spelling was horrible, Y/N.”

“I know I’m rubbish at spelling.” You mutter underneath your breath, preoccupied with scribbling something down. After a moment, you sheepishly smile at him. “But that’s why I’m paying you to be my editor. If I were good at it, I wouldn’t need you.”

“Oh, don't be ridiculous.” He jests in a playful tone, “you will always need me. What would you do if I was not around to remind you to eat once in a while and bathe? You'd be sitting in your own filth and rotting away in this home.”

The two of you laugh together, admitting that he is not at all false.

You were withdrawn, living on the secluded outskirts of the town. Not many folks desired to be acquainted with you since men frequently belittled your skills and women would rather discuss child rearing and gossip about the marriages taking place. You preferred to write and most considered that a bore and not an occupation at all. You like to beg to differ but that didn't mean you were free from loneliness.

It was Hoseok that provided companionship, filling in the positions of what friends would. With his presence by your side, you no longer cared about the rude folks who would mutter behind your back. He is the reason you keep striving forward.

“Speaking of which, I haven't seen you in a week’s time. What have you been working on as of late?”

“It's a new story and a strange one but I cannot find it in me to shake it off.” Your eyes are blazing like sunlight. He considers the passion ignited within you is a very peculiar yet attractive trait of yours. “It's something I call ‘soulmates’.”

His brows furrow. “What is that?”

“It’s a kindred spirit in which upon meeting, there is a spark of..uh...lighting.” Your hands whip in grand gestures and you pace around the room in equal strides. “The primary character just knows that they will end up with that person and together, they will lead their lives until the next and next one. A person can have one soulmate or several, each a part of themselves that makes them whole. It is a kind of true love, an authentic companionship, a mate that matches your soul if you will.”

“Perhaps I shall call the story ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’.” You whirl back around to face your editor. “What do you think?”

The man hums. “I think you don’t have enough sleep and your head is up in the clouds again.”

You sigh, stomping your foot once. “Must you kid around? I am sincerely ecstatic about the idea.”

“I am only teasing you.” He smiles in a soft manner. “I think the idea is brilliant. If it is you who comes up with it, it always is.”

“I know.” Your cheeks heat from his compliments and you inhale a lungful. “It’s a shame that not many people will hear about it. What did they say at the printing press?”

Hoseok grimaces, hesitating on the subject and hoping that you wouldn’t have asked. But you urge him to go on and tell him that your feelings will be spared.

“Seokjin won’t allow you. He doesn’t believe a woman has anything worthy to say.”

“Of course. It’s always the same issue.” You’re defeated and at a loss of what to utter. “I know my writing isn’t horrible, especially with your help, dare I say it’s quite good. But in the world we live in, no one wants to hear what a woman would say, much less what a woman would write.”

Hoseok gazes upon the profile of your visage. The efforts of your labour are evident in the way darkened circles mark the underside of your eye, the natural flush that kisses upon your nose. You are tired and it hurts him to see you this way. “Do you want people to read your work?”

“Yes, more than anything.” You look outside the window, lost in a trance of a land that would offer a lady like you more opportunities. It’s a silly thought but a prevalent one. “I never cared for recognition or fame. I just want my work to be out there in the world.”

There is a silence that hangs heavily in the air.

“Y/N.”

“Don’t feel the need to comfort me. I am aware that there is no use in contemplating such ridiculousness. My time is better spent putting my active imagination to better use.” You meekly smile, grabbing a new sheet of parchment. A thought brushes across your mind that perhaps if you wedded to someone of importance, your tales can be spread into different civilizations.

But you have no interest in letting someone take your hand in marriage. Most men would rather you bear children for them than write all day in a room. You’d be better off remaining on your lonesome. But perhaps Hoseok would want to...no...such a foolish thought.

You have an inkling that you will remain unmarried for the rest of your days.

The end of your quill is dipped in black ink, preparing to begin another story and you scowl at Hoseok who remains impassive, staring at you at such an intense fixation. “Get back to work before I shake my spear through you!”

He jumps like his trousers are on fire. “Yes, madam.”

And the man laughs at your glare.

A few weeks have passed since Hoseok has bid you farewell, being excused from his duties to travel to his ill mother in another village. You were awaiting for his return but you’re finally drawn out of your home by the excessive noise at the town square.

“What is going on?”

A chubby lady with a rounded womb, ready to burst with a new child, chuckles happily and takes your hand. “Your editor, Y/N. Who knew he would be such a literary scholar?”

“P-pardon me?”

A new declaration is posted on the wooden board and everyone swarms, despite most being illiterate. The lady who caught wind of news repeats it to you. “Jung Hoseok has been commissioned by the state as the official writer. His play titled as ‘A Midsummer Night's’ Dream caught the eye of the Minister and now he’s published his work under the name of Shakespeare.”

“E-....excuse me?!”

You feel faint.

“Oh, it’s so wonderful, Y/N.” The woman is ignorant to your bubbling wrath. “You should really give his work a try!”

“That...bastard!” A handful of village folk turn around in shock at your curse and even the lady is taken back, letting go of you and gasping at your barbaric demeanor. But you pay no mind.

You are too enraged of the lies, the deception, the deceit. Upon racing back home, you discover copies of your work all stolen, ripped away from your hands and name, forged and ransacked.

And cursing out his name, damning him to the deepest parts of hell, does nothing to sedate the madness of resentments. You will loathe the name of Jung Hoseok until the day you die.

Years later, when Hoseok returns, he receives news from the villagers. Not long after he had left, you suffered under a violent illness and died. He weeps alone as he reads your last written work, ink bled on old pages, a story of enemies and vengeance.

[18th Century]

The hot sun beams down and sweat slicks down your forehead, coating your skin in a sticky sheen and mixing with the grime on your cheek, the dust clinging to your hair. You are weak from hunger but it’s a familiar feeling that strangely reminds you that you are alive.

After working since dawn, you take a moment’s rest, blunt sickle in your hand, eyes bleary from the continuous labour. But what catches your sight is the lady of the house walking on the stone path, viewing all the workers and peasants wading through the endless fields.

“She’s so beautiful.” You sigh in a dreamy manner, following her graceful figure glide by, her cream coloured silk hat matching with the gorgeous gown. Lady Jungha has always been a beauty since birth, powdered skin and rosy cheeks. She is an exquisite phantom, a fictitious being that’s pulled out straight from books. “If only I could look like her.”

“Why are you so concerned with nonsense beauty?” Your friend stands straight, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Hurry up and focus plowing the wheat fields or else we’ll have nothing to eat!”

You downcast your head, griping a few words before exhaustion envelops your frame and you keep quiet, concentrating on your duties of a farmer.

It’s only until the sun is beginning to dip across the horizon that you’re free from the grueling labour. Every part of your body aches as the day before and you only get a single loaf of bread to chew on, cowering beside your friend with a tiny fire that provides warmth inside the brick shack.

“Y/N, could you fetch a pail of water?” Your friend rinses her face, shuddering from the coldness of the liquid. “We’re all out.”

“Must it be me?” You sit up from your straw mat, peeking out the window and watching how the sun has fully disappeared. There is no doubt that in ten minutes time, the sky will be black and the moon will rise.

“I beg of you.” She falls to the ground, suffering from a fever that’s been persisting for the past days. When you pleaded to the lord of the house to let her rest, he didn’t allow such a thing. Your heart only cries when you watch her in this much agony. “I’m not feeling well.”

“If you must.” You nod, tucking a tattered blanket over her body. “I’ll be back soon.”

The metal pail clanks as you rush down the dirt path to the well. You try to make it as fast as you can before it becomes completely dark and the nipping chills might lead you to sickness as well.

But on your way there, with your head facing the dirt, on pure coincidence and on accident, you bump into the body of another person. “I’m so sorry-”

“Um, pardon me.” He speaks in a sweet voice and you’re drawn upwards, looking the man in his eyes. His natural dark hair is parted to the side with a dab of hair wax, wearing a moss coloured suit; a silk cravat, coat and waistcoat to match. His breech, stockings and shoes are dignified, crisp clothes that show his wealth. “I apologize to interrupt you on your way but may I ask what household is this?”

You glance over to the grand home towering high in the sky. “Why, this is the Jeon Household. Jeon Jungkook is the lord of the manor and of the land. Who may you be?”

The man grins. “My name is Jung Hoseok, a traveller scholar.”

“A scholar?” You smile, easing into the discourse. “That is rather impressive.”

“Yes, well, I’ve retired to become a tutor and I’ve just arrived in this part of the country yesterday.” Hoseok takes a moment to admire the endless fields of the countryside and the peacefulness that lasts for acres upon acres. “I am afraid I lost my way.”

You lift one hand to gesture to the path. “The road to the small village is this way and when you arrive at the riverside, leave to the right. There should be an inn there where you can stay at.”

“Thank you.” He dips his head and before you can bid farewell, he steps forward. “Would it be unmannerly for me to ask you of your name?”

There’s a second of hesitation, one where you lower yourself, facing the ground. It is shameful for someone like you to be speaking to someone like him, dashing looks and of higher status. You wish it were different but by your battered attire, you cannot lie. “I am L/N Y/N, a lowly servant and farmer to the Jeon Household.”

However, the man is undeterred by your status and your soft whispers.

“You are quite the beauty, Lady Y/N, if you do allow me to say. And...a bit familiar.” He gazes at you with a slight frown and finally rips away his eyes once you’ve blushed. Hoseok clears his throat in several harsh coughs. “Thank you for helping me this fine evening.”

That night, you are unable to catch a single wink of sleep. Your mind is consumed by one single man.

The sun is falling once more. The wheat fields are tangling with each other, dancing to the warm breeze of the evening, birds chirping their songs before sundown. The fresh scent of the ground follows with the dirtied clothing on your body and you tear off your apron, neckerchief and white linen cap.

“Where are you going?” Your friend watches you, chewing on her stale bread and bemused by your franticness. “Are you not going to eat?”

“I will be back soon enough.” You re-lace your stays to hug your frame tighter, dusting off the deep emerald fabric of your petticoat. It’s a shame that you cannot afford a powdered wig or powder for your skin but you make do with what you have, pinching your cheeks for a rosy complexion, brushing your hair to the back of your head and decorating it with a few flowers you had pulled from the side of the path.

“Why are you trying so hard to look beautiful? You are aware that no one pays no mind, especially to us peasants? They’re all too concerned about themselves to look at us.”

You know that your friend does not lie.

No matter what you do, the reflection in the mirror mocks your efforts. Your skin is itchy and of a sickly colour, burnt from being in the sun, the foul stench of labouring in the fields all day follows even after bathing, fingernails blackened from the dirt, the lack of food make your cheeks hollow and bones frail. A pitying gaze from your friend causes you to look away.

There’s nothing you can do, no amount of colour, pinching or flowers could make you look anything more than ugly. You can either look like the peasant girl that you were born to be or a pathetic court jester - you’re not sure which is worse.

Yet, you hold your head up high.

“You don’t understand. I-I’ve met someone.”

Your friend lowers her bread and stares. “You met someone?”

“Last night and I can’t help but feel like,” a hopeless sigh spills from your lips, “like he may be my soulmate.”

Such a concept as soulmates is something that came from a famous book that you heard about once. The writer was a marvelous one, plays and street performances coming from the story and even to this day, countless philosophers are debating the idea that each person may belong to another or select few, created by the so-called ‘fate’.

“Oh, Y/N. You are too naive.”

You smile at her. “Believe in what I say, I have a good feeling about this man.”

Before she is able to ask more questions, you have already left. As fortune may have it, tracing the steps of yesterday, a familiar man stands near the path, admiring the beauty of the endless fields. He turns around at the sound of your huffs and smiles.

“Is this a coincidence or done on purpose?” He waits patiently for an answer and recognizing how you are flustered by the question, he grins. “I do hope it is the latter for I was also hoping to see you again.”

Your cheeks flush and a smile holds itself on your face. “Your desire is mutual.”

The dusk light fills the sky and you pace alongside him, strolling together aimlessly without a place in mind. Simply, you are enjoying his company. “Have you always worked here?”

“Yes, my parents were also servants for the Jeon Household. It was in my place to continue their duties.” You study the side of his face, chiseled jaw, sharp nose and all, before realizing the rudeness of your actions. “And you? Were you always a traveling scholar?”

“Ah no, well, I am a tutor now.” He chooses each word carefully and his utterance of the words are gentle. “I am in search of a suitable job. Do you know if there is anyone in the Jeon Household in need of a tutor?”

“Well, the lord of the house is very educated already.” You’ve always known that lord Jeon has been kind to you and your parents. There were many stories that surrounded him. “He is old and unfortunately a widow. He does have one daughter, however. The lady of the household, Jungah. She’s only nineteen years of age and very beautiful.”

“Oh.” Hoseok stops to feel the breeze kiss upon his cheeks. It cards through his locks and you watch while in an enamoured state. “Is the lady of the household betrothed?”

“Not that I know of. Perhaps the lady will need a tutor. I-...” You lower your head, trying to remember your place in the world as a lowly servant. “I could arrange a meeting for you if you wish.”

“That would be splendid, Y/N. Thank you.” He beams like the sunshine itself and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. But upon realizing that it reveals more of your imperfect complexion, you downcast your head. Hoseok’s gaze was becoming too intense as well. He muses, “You really would be more suited to a bustling town.”

“A town?”

“The world has changed, Y/N!” He throws open his arms as if he welcomes the entire universe inside of them. “It’s developed. Such things as working for a lord of the land and barely having enough to eat, people are no longer living in such ways. More and more are leaving the countryside to work at these factories. You can buy food, a warm house, anything you want.”

He faces you. “It’s wonderful, really. You wouldn’t believe it. You have to see it with your own eyes, Y/N.”

You smile at his riveting energy but your expression turns to sorrow. “I can’t just leave. They own me here.”

“I can help you.” Hoseok declares to the rising moon. “I can help you get away from this farm.”

You gasp, stepping forward. “R-really?”

“Yes, I have a friend who sells cattle. All you must do is lay on the barrow and let yourself be taken to the border. It’s never been more possible.” His eyes twinkle, brighter than the stars setting above your heads. “All my friend needs in order to agree is ten golden coins.”

“T-ten?” You reach for your pocket that is weightless. They don’t give you earnings for your work - the food is already the pay. “All I have is four.”

The man hums in contemplation. “Well, you can give me the four now and when you come up with the other six, I’ll let him know.” You scour your dress to reach inside the pocket, collecting your entire wealth into your hands. “It’s for a better life, Y/N. I want you to be happy.”

“Thank you.” Your fingers brush against the skin of his palm, letting the golden coins drop into his hand and a strange emotion tugs inside your chest.

After bidding farewell with the tutor, you watch his backside disappear slowly, counting each step the man takes that increases the distance and leaves him farther away from you.

Eventually, in three days time, you catch the gracious lady on her morning walk, and she finds interest in the man you describe. Hoseok expresses his gratitude as another meeting is arranged for him to address the lord of the house and it doesn't take long for him to be hired as the official tutor for Lady Jungha.

You find that the pair of them, Hoseok and Lady Jungha, have taken a liking to each other, often smiling and glancing while strolling at dawn. But your friend insists that your mind is merely running wild again and such a relationship would be scandalous to the Jeon name. For reasons you are too shy to admit, you hope it is true.

Each evening, you stroll together with Hoseok, mindlessly speaking and letting time trickle away without a notice. You see him frequently, especially since he now lives on the land as well. And the feelings within your being are only festering day by day.

Except, one night, you cannot sleep well.

“Where are you going?”

Your friend lifts her head as you shuffle on outwear, brushing back your hair and leaving it unkempt. “I’ll be back soon. I need to make sure of something.”

Today, as you waited on the same path, Hoseok never showed up.

As improper and rude as it may be, you sneak into the manor like a shadow, slipping through the familiar corridors and hallways, past empty rooms and studies. Surely, if you were to be caught, you would be punished; perhaps days of food taken away from you or you would be forced to work the entire field during the night. But you cannot shake off the worry that plagues your mind.

It’s not like Jung Hoseok breaks his word. He is a man of dignity and respect-

“Hhmpph...mmp-h…” A muffled whine causes you to halt and you turn to the lady’s room, the door slightly parted and enough for you to peek inside. “Wait...w-wait.”

There are two shadows on the bed and you narrow your eyes, barely able to see with the moonlight coming through the glass windows. But you recognize the voice immediately. “What’s the matter?”

“M-my father,” Lady Jungha pants a breath, laid down beneath the man, “if he finds out about us, I’m scared of what he would do to you.”

“My lady, are you not aware I would readily endanger my own well-being for you?” He places a kiss on her lips, the sound of smacking skin echoing in the quiet room. Your heart drops. “Your beauty is unadulterated, the most magnificent in the land. You are but a fragile flower and your mind of absolute brilliance. Never have I had such a student. No one compares to you.”

He strips of his shirt, allowing the fabric to flutter to the ground. His large, coarse hands slink up the lady’s legs, pushing up her silk nightgown until it pools high above her chest. He removes her undergarments and you spin around, back hitting against the wall, teeth sinking into your bottom lip and breaking the skin.

“Let me reward you. Let me take care of you.” His voice is soft and sweet, dripping of luscious honey and you fear that you will spew the little contents in your stomach out. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

There are more groans and whines, kisses pressed and skin slapping on skin. The vulgarities and lewd sounds sends a warm wash over your body and you swallow hard, finding it difficult to walk away. “Okay, take me, Hoseok.” The young lady giggles quietly. “I allow you to defile my innocence.”

Your hand covers your mouth to hide the breaking sob and you run as saltwater clouds the surroundings.

“Is there something the matter?” Your friend shifts over the straw mat, shaken from her slumber and your sudden appearance.

“I’m well. Thank you.” You face the dirtied wall, holding your palm to your lips, weeping into your hands until the exhaustion of your labour from the day has taken hold of your mind.

The sunlight does not seem bright anymore.

The hard work and plowing of the fields offers a sense of odd fulfillment. The repetitive motions and slick sweat sticking to your face brings you down from the clouds to the ground. You remember who you are: a lowly servant who will never be anything more.

“I believe I will take the hand of Lady Jungha in the days to come.” Hoseok tells you one evening as you both have stopped to stare out at the endless countryside. You’ve learnt to find sorrow within these walks now.

“Is that so?” You offer a kind smile, sincerely ecstatic for the man. Despite his mere status, he is a good match for the lady of the house. They are both of beauty and dashing looks.

“If it were not for you and your efforts, I would not be standing here today.” Hoseok grins, hands behind his back and spine tall. “One day, when I become the lord of the land, I will set you free.”

You bow your head. “Then it would be my absolute honour, Lord Hoseok.”

The man grins at the new title and your heart aches as you watch him stride away, increasing the distance and disappearing away from you.

True to his word, in a month, he has taken Lady Jungha’s hand. It happens too quickly for you to fully understand, the wedding coming and going within a blink, and you simply focus on working the fields, having enough to eat after each day, working hard to obtain six more coins.

In due time, the strolls with the man diminish until there is nothing left. Yet, what surprises you is the sudden illness of Lord Jungkook and his succumb to the mysterious disease. It is overnight that Jung Hoseok becomes the main land owner and master of the household.

“Wake up! Wake up, peasants!” Horrific metal is rattled on metal, shocking you out of slumber and you awake, rubbing at bleary eyes. Your friend is in a similar state of confusion, exchanging a glance at you before she gets up, grabbing a cloak to cover her nightgown.

“How dare you intrude into a lady’s quarters?” You gasp at the men who barge and kick down all the doors of the little huts. The stranger simply laughs at your scoldings and roughly grabs your arm, hauling you outside against your will and throwing you to the dirt. You yelp and your friend comes rushing to your aid, covering you with your own cloak.

“Take all their belongings!” The men shout and the other servants are torn away from each other, children, women and men alike. “Rip down everything!”

You watch as they scour your tiny room for the little things that you have, a pot of water and straw mat, perhaps a stack of wheat in the corner. You stagger to your feet and a familiar figure stands by the side of the road, gazing out at the wide countryside.

“Lord Hoseok, I plead with you to tell me what is happening.” Behind him, your friends and their families are screaming, homes torn apart and fires flickering your shadows on the ground. “Why are you treating these poor servants this way?”

“Oh, Y/N.” There is something strange about the man. His kindness and benevolence has long left his soul and his smile frightens you. “I am selling the land.”

“Selling the land?! What-?” You are befuddled and baffled. “Does Lady Jungha know about this?!”

The corner of his mouth lifts, and he locks his eyes with yours. “The lady is bedridden in grief from her father’s death. She cannot sleep or eat and is no longer a wife to me. I have plans to send her to an asylum to get better.”

“P-pardon me? T-that cannot be true!” You shake your head until it rattles and you can’t see straight. “That must be false! I have to see her for myself-”

Hoseok clutches your wrist in his hand. “You will do no such thing.”

A sick, twisted part of him was once curious to see how foolish and easily persuaded you are. He isn’t disappointed. You believe him so easily that he does not need to put forth effort. It nearly spoils the fun and amusement for him to trick you. You almost awaken a sense of guilt within him. Almost.

It strikes you like a slap and your eyes widen. “You are not a scholar nor a tutor are you?”

“And you realize so too late.” He lets go, applauding for the little wit you have left. “I lied.”

Your stomach churns. You feel sick. “Who are you?”

“A swindler who was once a peasant like you.” His gaze softens a mere tad. “I never once harboured feelings for the lady of the house, I was only trying to gain wealth. You can hate me if you want to, that does not matter.”

“You are the truest demon that I have met,” you spit out in rage, “and hell has opened its doors for you.”

He leans his head to one side, chuckling and laughing at the sudden insults. “Are you really so naive, Y/N? Are you not tired of licking the shoes of people who are of higher status? But I must say, if it were not for you, my scheme would have never succeeded. And for that, I thank you.”

Hoseok reaches into his pocket, taking a single coin, one that you had given him, and he slaps it back into your hands, closing your palm so you can keep it safe.

You shake with wrath, your entire frame rattling and knees threatening to buckle to the dirt. With the little strength you have left, you throw the coin as far as you can into the fields. Hoseok chuckles again and you prepare to launch over, maul his face with your dirtied fingernails. But his men grab your arms too soon, restraining your limbs and forcing you to kneel.

“I-I hate you! I spite you! Damn you, Jung Hoseok! Damn you!”

“What do you want me to do with this girl?”

“Take her and sell her for the best price.” Hoseok waves his hand, dismissing his men and bidding you a final farewell. “She is rather valuable.”

You’re thrown into a wooden cage, trapped and hanging onto the bars as the horse drags you elsewhere. You scream and shout but the man does not spare a single glance. You watch his backside disappear slowly, cursing each stride he takes that increases the distance and leaves you farther away from him.

[19th Century]

“Are you looking for something?” A rounded woman emerges from the back of her market stand, sweeping your frame up and down to guess the wealth you have.

You’re in a fitted linen shirt and dark green woolen skirt, belt wrapped around the natural waist of the simple ensemble and bonnet decorating your pinned up chignon hair. You look like a well-off peasant, not a customer who could pay for much, but it is a fairly good front since you’re actually penniless.

“No, I’m just looking for now.” You smile softly and the woman huffs out in annoyance, spinning around to address some other folks who have gathered on the other side. As her back is turned, your fingertips run against the selection of green flower brooches, the gems sparkling in the sunlight.

You slip one into your sleeve and walk away.

The women wandering about the market are adorning full, bell-shaped skirt dresses, petticoats with frilled hems, hair in tight curls framing their face and maybe a long time ago, you would be envious of such beautiful clothing but it does not concern you anymore. There’s much more important business to attend to.

The bustle of the crowded streets and children running at your feet is suffocating and you make a left at the alleyway, sliding the brooch from out your pocket and attaching it on the woolen shawl draped on your shoulders. It looks much better this way. You’re ready.

Another left, another right, going deeper and deeper into the dirty alleyways that run with rats and of the poor pleading for money - eventually, you make it to the pine painted door, a dingy and discreet place in the corner that already smells of tobacco from the outside.

You kick down the door. The chaos inside stops.

“Men!” You smirk at their confused expressions. “Your real competition is here.”

As a woman, it may be ungenteel to hike up your dress, put your boot on the table and shoot dice while hollering and screaming with the opposite sex but why should you feel ashamed when you are dominating and winning all bets?

“I’ll bet one more time.” Your opponent, Min Yoongi, slaps down a hefty sack of golden coins. The others cheer, the entire room having all gathered around your table and watching the dark horse snaring victory after victory. “If the dice makes it even, I get my earnings back but if it makes it odd, I will give you the rest of this.”

You contemplate the choice, weighing the reward and consequences. It sounds appealing, especially when everyone is howling for you to take the deal. In the end, you smirk at the newfound confidence. “You’re on.”

The dice is thrown. Each person holds their breath.

In the next twelve minutes, you’ve completely ransacked the place dry of their money. And you laugh your head off, clutching onto your stomach and cackling while the others can only sigh at their humiliating, multiple defeats.

“Where did a woman like you learn how to gamble?” Yoongi sips from his glass of rum, eyes studying you carefully.

“Ah.” You smile at him. “But there is your mistake. Woman or man, ‘tis true they are different but not so much. You would be a fool not to look at me as your equal opponent.”

You’ve seen things that others would faint at; held a gun within your hands, fired shots into the sky, sailed seas with pirates until you found a home here. Yoongi grins. “A fool I am indeed.”

“Hey!” A piercing interruption at the back causes all heads to turn. The bulky man watching from earlier is holding the dice within his hands, frown decorating his ugly face and rotting teeth. “This dice is fake! It’s not ours!”

At once, all necks crane towards you.

They stare. The large men, brawny arms and thighs, bruises lining their skin, red fists and faces becoming scarlet begin to take slow steps forward. Yoongi has his eyes widened, mouth drawing open. You sheepishly smile. And…

You make a run for it.

“Get back here!” They dive over wooden tables and stools, tripping and falling, glasses of rum and cigars abandoned, thrown onto the ground. By then, you’ve already yanked open the door, being chased down the alleyway. “She’s a swindler!”

“A cheat!”

The horde of men races after you but are no match for your agile legs and speed. You even laugh to further mock them, dashing through the dark alleyways, past the poor and rats, clutters of rubbish and dirtied children. It’s like a peasant parade, a grand crowd following after in shouts and screams and you are their gracious leader.

“I prefer con artist!”

You make it to the main street again, knocking over stands and throwing over tables to slow down the angry men. Women scream, men exhale in surprise, children darting away from your form. They trip and stumble, pushing their way through the mass of people. “Give back our money!”

“Sorry but no thanks!” You hold up a heavy sack of coins above your head with a tinkling laugh, shaking the coins inside to further taunt them. “I need this more than you!”

The police squadron has noticed the ruckus in the area and has begun running after the ruffians, blowing their whistles and commanding them to stop. You hope they catch the criminals so that you may be spared but if they’re caught, you would be too. People like you are never caught.

The whistles are blown. “In the name of the royal family, halt immediately criminals!”

The men continue to run after you. “Kill her!”

“That’s a bit severe, is it not?!” You’re out of breath, painting and heaving for air.

You know you won’t last long now. Hence, there’s no other choice but to turn the corner into another street and immediately, in the empty area, you place yourself into another narrow alleyway. “Where did that whore go?!”

You gasp in offense, muttering quietly, “I am not a whore.”

The incoherent grumblings quickly turns into a scream when someone suddenly seizes you, their hand yanking your arm but the sound is muffled as a palm is clasped over your mouth and you’re pressed against someone’s firm chest. You pull away from the stranger.

He smirks. “Caught you.”

You shove his fingers off of your body, snatching the collar of his fine coat and hauling the man deeper into the shadowed depths of the alleyway. “Jung Hoseok-” You push him to the wall. “-What are you doing here?! How?!”

The man looks off to the other end that is lit by the sunlight, the unsuspecting thugs rushing past and officers following their tails. “I see you haven’t shaken off your gambling habits.” The son of the loan shark corners you with his larger body. “You still owe my family many loans.”

“Damn you.” Your teeth grit. “Fine, be as it may, take me to your debtors’ prison.”

“Good. It would be best if you follow me-”

In an instant, your shoes have twisted upon the gravel and your heel meets the dirt as you lob your body to the left, ready to take down the alley for yet another chase. But you fail to consider Jung Hoseok’s own agile skills, and he grabs your waist before you’re able to dash.

“Must you always run?”

The hot breath tickles against the shell of your ear and you scowl, curses to be spewed on your tongue, but he spins you around and throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You scream. “Put me down, bastard! I am a lady!”

“You aren’t.” He rudely smacks your ass, sending a jolt up your spine and you’re silenced in bafflement. The man makes his way on the opposite road of the chaos, into a quieter place with fewer folks wandering about. “And if you do not follow me, I will throw you to those rancid men. Would you like that better?”

“I despise you.”

Hoseok smiles, satisfied to see your more compliant behaviour. You decide that you’ll allow him to continue carrying you this way. You’re tired anyhow, legs sore from the race and at the end of the day, he is wasting away his own energy by hauling you there.

“You shouldn’t keep making bets with people if you choose to con them. One day, you’ll be beaten to death.”

You scoff loudly. “I am going to win in order to pay all my debts back, foolish man.”

“Gambling never works, haven’t you learnt? You’d end up wasting your entire life savings away and living by the city’s sewers.”

“Isn’t that where we’re all heading anyway?” You rest your hand on your cheek, propping your elbow on his broad backside. There are people staring at you, couples cowering away in disdain. You wonder if they’re soulmates.

Soulmates - the idea that a kindred soul has been fixed for each individual are not only in stories anymore but in real lives. Folks have supposedly begin recognizing an odd burst when they meet their other half. It’s a ridiculous phenomenon. You couldn’t care less about soulmates. What matters is wealth.

Wealth would help you, free you, give you a better tomorrow. You’ve lived this entire life alone and it is no doubt that for the rest of it, you will continue to be by yourself. There is no one trustworthy - it took you too long of a time to learn that.

“I’m not naive anymore.”

“Good.” He laughs, finally setting you down on the property, swinging his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close as he guides you inside the building, down the familiar halls. You shove his limb off with an ugly scowl, and he smiles. You accompany each other in synchronized steps, the surroundings too familiar for your liking.

Jung Hoseok is a man with short, black, tousled hair. He wears a double-breasted frock coat and long trousers, a luxurious attire considering the family he comes from. You hate it even more that he is a rather dapper young fellow.

“This is for your own benefit, Y/N. You don’t even have any money for food. At least if you stay at this place, I can bring you some bread to eat and you have warm shelter.”

You step inside the cell, and he locks the door with a brass key.

“This place is cold and horrid,” you cry out. “There are rats and fleas everywhere! You think I could stay here?! You’d be leaving me to die!”

He smiles at you through the gaps of the metal bars. The stone floorings and walls barricade you in. “I will bring you a blanket and you can make do.”

You spit with all the fury and rage festered in your soul, “Do not act like you care for me!”

“Don’t mistake my pity for generosity then.”

“Damn you, Jung Hoseok.” You grip the cold bars that trap you, screaming after his retreating form. “I loathe you with every last breath in my body!”

He turns from a little way, figure engulfed in the darkness of the hall. “If it helps, I share my own hatred for you. You make my job a lot harder than need be.” A small smile holds on his face and you see it all too well. “Just sit down and begin separating the strands of rope in the basket. Enough of it and in a few years, you might be released.”

You curse him to hell and back.

The sunlight coming from the barred window is always hot in the hour of twelve. You’ve noticed this before a ways back but thought nothing much of it. Today, it makes all the difference.

You’ve collected the leaves and grass from the corners of the cell, cringing and sobbing out when you accidentally brushed your hand in rat feces, a dead rat and maggots eating at the decaying flesh. But alas, after wiping your fingers on your tattered clothing, you continued on your quest.

It took a while to break the wooden basket and carve out something decent but you managed with the little fork Hoseok gave you to eat. It’s all thanks to him that you can do this.

“Come on now.” You murmur, rubbing the two wooden sticks against each other on top of the pile of grass, leaves and rope. There’s a puff of smoke and sweat builds at your forehead as you work your arms back and forth. “I beg of you…”

The sunlight helps to ignite the tiny flame and a smirk spreads into your cheeks.

You nurse the fire as quietly and quickly as you can, throwing the bundles and bundles of rope that was prepared for you to separate into the light. As the fire crackles, meeting the height of your waist, you take the stool, standing on top of it and you throw yourself over the tiny ledge.

Using the motion, you kick the bars of the window loose and you throw your legs out. The height of the drop is survivable. But before you can make your escape, pattering footsteps echo through the hall. “Y/N?!”

Hoseok stands back from your cell in dreaded horror. “Bloody hell, you started a fire?!”

“A good distraction, eh?” You smirk at his glare. It was always within the con rule book to create distractions and delay the enemy. “I suppose this would be a good time to bid you adieu.”

He calls your name over and over again, gripping the iron bars that separate the two of you.

“You know no matter where you go, I will find you?!”

“Aww, if you were not an enemy, that would almost sound romantic.” You give him a flying kiss, lips smacking against your palm and gestured out to him. He frowns and you give a wink, a cheerful giggle as well. “Goodbye, Jung Hoseok.”

“Y/N!”

And you slip out the window, right out of his grasps, running as fast as you can.

[20th Century]

Even as the threat of war breathes down your neck, threatening to grab hold of your lungs and smother you in all its horror, soulmates still run rampant through the streets, slaughtering each sliver of hope you have left, strangling the happy life that you want so desperately.

“You haven't found…” Your friend leans close as if sharing a secret. “...‘the one’?”

The world revolved around the idea of soulmates. It hit civilization like a ship’s cannon, sudden and full of impact. Now, it was all girls could giggle about and boys could fantasize. Folks would be absolutely consumed with it, parents pairing their children and friends’ together and hoping for that burst of electricity that could only be shared between kindred souls.

One of the questions you were asked insistently was: ‘have you found the one yet?’. Your answer didn’t matter as much as the pitying expressions, the words of consolation of ‘you’ll find one soon’ and how people told you their own story. They always said that no matter where you went, where you’d go off to, your soulmate would end up finding you. That’s how the scientists and teachers, old philosophers and stories, the newspapers said it.

That’s how fate is.

“What if I just don’t have a soulmate?”

You exhale a breath towards the sky and your friend looks at you in astonishment. “Who told you that? Plus, no scientist has said such thing yet. Everyone has a soulmate! Some people just take a bit of time, Y/N. You’ll find someone soon, I just know it.”

She says it with such certainty, as if declaring the sun will rise again. “And when you do, you’ll know instantly.”

You’ve heard it a million times before, the way your friends have described it, you’ve seen it with your own eyes. Yet, your own faith and hope are dwindled.

“Isn’t there more to life than finding your soulmate, getting married and having children?”

You’re not sure where this is all coming from but perhaps it is the resentments of your universe, how your parents have constantly shoved the ideas of romance and matrimony down your throat since you were a child. When you look around, women are glowing from pregnancies or branded with a ring on their finger.

“What if I want to go to university instead?”

“Are you ill?” She nibbles on her bread. “Why are you speaking such nonsense? Y/N, this is the Great Depression and I know your own family is well off but people don’t even have enough to eat.” Your friend shakes her head, scoffing at the ridiculousness of your words. “School...and for women? What kind of place would ever accept that?”

You don’t respond. She sighs.

“Y/N, don’t you want happiness and to feel loved? We don’t have many choices other than those things. So, keep your chin up and don’t give up on the idea of soulmates just yet.”

It’s a rose-coloured world. Everyone sees the universe in blazing shades, laughing and grinning even at such a poor time. They see the glass as half-full, each failure an opportunity to learn, pouring of optimism. They beam with love and happiness, holding hands and sharing kisses.

Yet, you don’t feel like you are flushing with rose. You are green. A monster of envy.

The heavy rain beats down on top of your head, rattling the inside of your skull. The surroundings have turned into a shade of grey, vision clouded with water droplets clinging onto your lashes. Each step you take splatters puddles onto your house dress, a kelly-coloured, floral, cotton hand-me-down from your mother.

You’re drenched from head to toe, squealing before taking shelter under a closed flower shop.

You don’t notice the person who you’re caught in the rain with, the individual that was already there and lifting their hand out to catch the droplets, staring up at the clouds and considering how much longer the storm will take. “Looks like it won’t stop anytime soon, eh?”

Your body jumps in shock but soon eases from the warm and familiar presence beside you.

“Jung H-Hoseok.” You blink at him, managing a slight smile out of politeness. “What a surprise.”

The man is a notorious playboy, someone you’ve seen sucking face in alleyways with other girls, feeling them up right in public, especially Yoonji from three houses down your parents’. Your own mother has told you to stay away from men like him. They’re nothing but trouble.

“Are you alright?” He gives a sly grin, taking a step closer to you and his body radiates the heat your own skin craves. If someone were to see now, they’d immediately become suspicious and in this small town with gossip being the main activity, your mother would know about it instantly.

Luckily, no one’s around and the streets are empty.

“I’m perfectly fine, just soaked from the rain.”

Hoseok smirks. He’s a cunning fellow, a known looker too. His white shirt is rolled to his sleeves, veins popping from his forearm and you know that any lady in this town would be swooning to be in this position but you don’t dare look at him. You focus on the street.

“It’s been awhile since we chatted, Y/N.”

“Well, I’d rather not.”

“Why?” He tips his head to the side, staring at you with the utmost concentration that you nearly begin to break a sweat.

You finally look at him, twisting on your ankle to frown. “Would Min Yoonji like it if she knew you were trying to flirt with me right now?”

“Darling, no one ever said anything about flirting.” He’s amused and that makes you angrier. “But if you want me to, then I can.”

“You. Are. Ridiculous.”

“And you are beautiful.”

“You!” Your mouth has filled with cotton, cheeks heating up by the second and it would be an understatement to say that you’re flustered. How is it that he can get under your skin so quickly and break down your barriers; you’ll never know the answer. “Ugh!”

“Have I stolen those words out of your pretty lips? Or should I kiss ‘em to make sure they’re okay?”

You scoff, crossing your arms as if it’s for extra protection. “Now I know why my mother told me to stay from the likes of you!”

“Why?” His grin spreads into his cheeks, and he leans down to meet your eyes. “Because I make you excited, because I’m dangerous, and she’d rather have you settle down with someone plain and boring like that idiot down the street, Taehyung? Kid doesn’t even know what sex is.”

You narrow your eyes, spitting out the syllables like it’s your only arsenal left against his suave attacks, “because you toy with women’s hearts and throw them after you’re done.”

“I would never throw you away.” He answers without missing a beat, leaning against the glass window and studying your frame carefully. “I’ve always liked you, you know. You’re different from the rest of ‘em.”

“H-How so?” Your interest is piqued, and he realizes it, cockily smirking yet again.

“You’re not a simple one. You’re a challenge and I like that.”

There’s a familiar feeling about the man and it puts you on edge. Though you must admit, it is exhilarating to be speaking to him and simply considering all the scandalous acts you could do together in secret. “So once I become easy, you’ll be done with me?”

“Never.” He shakes his head. “You might know me as a heartbreaker but Y/N, sweetheart, I’m a changed man.”

Your brow lifts. “Oh?”

Hoseok sighs with exhaustion. “The war is coming. Everyone says it ain’t, but we all know it’s coming. Before I’m drafted to go out to the field and die, I’d like to open my heart once and love someone completely.” He stares at you once more. “And if it’s you, I think I can do it.”

You’re filled with bafflement again. “I...you…”

“At least give me a chance, Y/N.” The rain pitter patters against the green awning of the florist’s shop, the scent of the fresh earth fills your senses and you feel overwhelmed with a sense of peace. More so, Hoseok’s pleading twitches your fingers and melts the barrier around your vulnerable heart. “Let me take you out on a date. What do you say?”

It’s the first thing you think of. You whisper it in a gentle voice.

“What about your soulmate?”

“That’s not a problem.” He smiles, looking out at the street that still pours. “Don’t have one, never will. I’m a free soul.”

“Huh.” You giggle, having never heard such a thing aside from it coming out of your own mouth. “Soulmate-less people do exist after all, don’t they?”

“They sure do. And once people figure it out, there’s gonna be nothing but pity for folks like me.”

He can already feel your skin on his, a simple brush of the shoulders but it leaves him aching. Hoseok wonders what those lips taste like, sweet or of crisp citrus, how soft your mouth would feel on his, what it would be like to swallow your pants and make you the happiest woman on this damn forsaken planet.

“You mean folk like us.” You bring him out from his daydream, and he realizes that it’s better to be in reality since you’re here by his side, in the flesh and beautifully smiling. “I don’t have a soulmate either. I can tell. It’s something in me that says so.”

“Yeah…” He gazes at you, amazed at how true your words are. He really hasn’t met anyone like you, who knew him better than he did, who felt the things that he did, someone to share sadness with. “I’ve never met anyone where I’ve felt a burst of electricity. For all I know, my world has always been bright colours and all that sort.”

“Hmm…” You look at him, locking your eyes into his fixed stare. “You know, you feel real familiar, Jung Hoseok. Maybe we’ve met before this life.”

The man grins. “That’s the kind of line I used to use when I was trying to flirt with somebody.”

You nudge him, brushing your shoulder against his again. “Maybe I am trying to flirt.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, you may.”

His lips touch yours until he caresses the back of your neck, holding you close until your chest is pressed against his and his frame shelters you. Candy - he grins when he finally figures out the sweet taste, and he chases the flavour of your velvet lips until a gentle whine leaves your throat.

Although there is no burst of electricity, your heart doesn’t stop and your breath doesn’t get caught, all you know is that you’re happy. And this is enough for you.

Falling in love with Hoseok is a complete accident.

You don’t mean to be head over heels for the man, certainly don’t mean for him to take your heart and kiss you senseless until your limbs feel of butter. When your parents scold your ears off, you resolve to break the relationship but somehow, you run back into his arms like a fool. He takes you and comforts you like a man has never done before. You don’t mean to smile so brightly when he calls you beautiful. You don’t mean to be so weak that you feel marrying him wouldn’t be so bad. You don’t mean any of these things but Hoseok was always a cunning one.

Maybe it is a mistake but the best one you’ve ever made.

“This is my old babe.” Hoseok slaps her trunk lightly. “Someone threw ‘er away and I told my pop I’d fix her up and I did it. I gotta admit, I love her to death.”

“More than me?’

“Maybe.” He teases and chuckles when you roll your eyes. There’s nothing special, at least not in your eyes, but when you lay a finger, your boyfriend inhales sharply. “Careful now. This is a Cadillac Sixty Special.”

You give him an unimpressed expression, hands on your hips and head quirked to one side. “I’m starting to really believe you love a car more than me.”

“I’m just joking, babe.” Hoseok leans over and plants a soft kiss on your mouth. Before you can pout, he opens the backseat door and ushers you inside. “For m’lady.”

You get in, and he follows soon after, shutting it and the pair of you stare out the empty road.

There’s a long pause. “This it?”

“What do you mean?” He gasps. “This is the best view you could get! This car’s the best!”

You sigh again and Hoseok laughs, leaning over and draping his arm over you, pulling you close and you rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m just kidding around. I know a view that’s much better than this.”

“And what’s that?” To answer your question, his other hand begins to skim on your thigh, fingertips tracing your skin, getting higher and higher and shifting your cotton dress up until your underwear peeks out. You grab his wrist, looking around and whispering in hushes, “What are you thinking?! We’re out in broad daylight in your parent’s driveway!”

“No one’s around, honey. C’mon…” He noses at your hair and it’s not like you don’t want this. You do very much, perhaps more than him but you’re also afraid of what would happen if Mrs. Kim, the next door neighbor, decides to walk her little puppy and faints when she sees what’s going on.

Finally, after some contemplation, you grab Hoseok’s face, pressing your mouth against his until he smiles into the kiss. “You better make this worth my while, Jung.”

His pupils are blown out, lips swollen and ready to devour you in the backseat of his used car. “Oh, I will.”

At the very least, he cares about you enough to be okay with staining the leather.

Regardless of what troubles you face - your parents’ disapproval, the looming presence of the war, your own worries and anxieties about the relationship - Jung Hoseok is constantly around the corner. No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you. The man makes your heart sing soothing lullabies and maybe you’ll never have a soulmate but at least you have him.

“Jung Hoseok here to save the beautiful m’lady.”

There’s a blazing smile written across his features and you laugh, causing him to melt into a warmer smile. He jogs up to you, draping a coat over your shoulders to defend you against the slight nipping breeze. The pair of you are taking a walk around his neighborhood, an odd pastime but one you insisted on.

“Are you okay?”

You secure the warm fabric over your exposed skin, savouring his scent that is lingering on each stitch of the wool fabric. “I’m fine. Why?”

Hoseok wiggles his brows in a suggestive manner. “Because you were limping the other day.”

You scoff. “And that was because of who?”

Your boyfriend giggles sweetly, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close into his chest. You ease from the gesture, the nervousness temporarily rolling off your shoulders. As the both of you pass a minty coloured mailbox, you finally break the silence.

“Hey, have you been getting your mail lately?”

“Every Sunday as usual. Why?” He is amused at the strange question, turning to look at you but already having an inkling on what the whole gist is about. “Are you worried about the war?”

You hide your face, diverting your eyes and your voice is soft, barely on the edge of breaking. “You know they already told Namjoon and Jimin? Those two are leaving next week, packing all their bags, saying goodbye to their loved ones and family members and...and-”

“Hey. Hey now. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.” He gently boinks your head with his, smiling and placing a kiss on the crown. “They’re older than I am and my brother hasn’t even been called yet. There’s no way they’ll call me first. Plus if I did go, I’d have Namjoon and Jimin and my brother to look out for me.”

“But what if-”

“No what if’s. Don’t wanna hear it.” He sulks with a pout, letting go of you and instead, catching your hand within his. He holds it tight, lacing your fingers together and you smile at him sadly.

“Are you scared?”

“Nope.” He punctuates the syllable and shakes his head. “What’s there to be afraid of? I’m not afraid.”

You squeeze his hand. “It’s okay if you are. I would be.”

“Why are you suddenly asking me all these questions?” He stops in front of his house, holding you close and staring at your expression. “What’s going on in that little pretty head of yours that has you worrying so much?”

Hoseok knows you too well at this point. Your cheeks flush and you stare at the ground. “There is something. And, I’m scared of what you’re gonna say when you know.”

“Scared of what I'm gonna say?” He laughs and kisses your cheek. “Darling, there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. Don’t you know that I’m fearless?”

You lift your brow in an incredulous manner. “Really?”

“Except for spiders, I don’t fight things that’s got more than six legs,” he teases and then becomes serious, “but enough of the jokes, what’s wrong?”

“I...we’re….” You hesitate, stuttering and an absolute mess. Maybe it’s foolish but you trust this man with all your heart and you love him so. Hence, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself before the storm comes. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

“What.”

“I’m pregnant?” You nervously laugh, swinging your held hands and staring at your shoes. “I don’t know how long it’s been but I haven’t been feeling well lately and I haven’t had my...cycle in a while. All the signs, I got them.”

“Oh wow.” He exhales a lungful, looking off into the distance without an expression. Hoseok is in a state of disbelief, unable to wrap his mind around it, and he repeats you a few times, “We’re gonna have a baby. A baby.”

“Yep…” You study him carefully, having not expected much but the lack of communication was no less than being put on a tightrope, holding your breath and on the brink of anticipation. “What do you think?”

“That’s….I’m….I’m going to go...for a bit..”

“What?!” Out of all the possible reactions, this had to hurt the most - there was no reaction. “You’re leaving?!”

“I just have to.” He begins to back away, getting to his vehicle that’s parked at the side. “I gotta get some air. See you.”

“Wait!” You run after him, shouting with all your might as he gets into his little precious car. “Jung Hoseok!” He ignores you completely, putting the keys into the ignition and starting the engine while you bang on the window. “Hoseok! We’re going to talk about this!”

Despite your fist pounding against the window, heaving breaths shouting through the sky, he pulls away from the curb and goes into reverse. “Hoseok- Fuck! OW FUCKING SHIT!”

As he was backing up, he mercilessly runs over your foot.

Pain shoots up your spine and you’re forced to stumble, crouching over and clutching onto your squashed, dirty shoe. You attempt to rip your limb away from under the rubber tire but the force is too much. It feels like you’ve broken your foot or a toenail was ripped off, that it’s bleeding in your tattered nylon sock. It swells and screams. To top off the agony, like a cherry thrown on top of a sundae, he finally drives his car off, freeing your extremity, disappearing in the distant fog and abandoning you on the side of the road.

“Are you kidding me?!” You sob out to the sky, knocking your head back and letting your broken foot pulsate and throb inside your poor sandal. “HOSEOK!”

You should’ve known better.

At the first sign of commitment, he had ran for the hills and was never seen again. You were lied to. You were betrayed. It didn’t matter if you loved him until your heart ached and it didn’t matter if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. You should’ve listened - to others and to your own instinct. The familiar feeling about the man that put you on edge was a warning.

Jung Hoseok is never there when you truly need him.

When you knock on his door, his mother tells you he is not there. When you hear that he has been sent a letter, he is not there. When you wait for a final goodbye, he is not there. When you search for him desperately at the train station before he is sent to the war, he is not there.

When your foot heals, he is not there.

When you lose the baby, he is not there.

When you cry until it hurts, he is not there.

When you find out that he has died in the midst of the battlefield, he is truly gone forever.

“I’m sorry.”

His comrade lowers his head, hat held in his hand, teardrops dripping on your front doorstep. “W-we couldn’t even get his dog tags. He’s gone, Y/N. Hoseok is dead.”

Jung Hoseok never comes back.

He never gets to face your wrath, your revenge, your anger or heartbreak. He could never marry you if he wanted to, hold you in his arms and apologize a thousand times, try again to raise a child and to kiss your lips on days when you’re tired. He is not there to grow old with you.

And you have never been angrier.

“Who said you could leave, Jung Hoseok?!”

You screech it to the sobbing sky, embracing the cold and harsh rain drilling on your skull. It drenches you, anchoring you to the ground and you ignore the dirt that splashes against your black dress, walking further and further out to the field.

“You were supposed to go down on your knees and beg for my fucking forgiveness!” You shriek until your throat is raw, crying it out until you’re not sure what is teardrops or raindrops. It aches everywhere and he isn’t here. He isn’t here. Hoseok isn’t here anymore. “You were supposed to cry when you found out the baby’s gone! Bastard. You are a fucking bastard! You know that?!”

No matter where you go, Hoseok is always able to find you. But why does he never show up when you need him the most?

“You threw me away! You left me alone like everyone said you would! I resent you!” Your voice gives out, a mere whimper that no one can hear against the thundering sky. “I resent being in love with you. You were supposed to stay with me, goddammit!”

The rain is ugly. It reminds you of the day you kissed him.

“When I meet you again, I swear I’ll never forget the things you’ve done to me. All of it.” You’re not done with Hoseok, far from it. You still have to grab him by the collar, curse and scream and swear at him until he apologizes. You never got to kiss him one last time, embrace him, stare at his face until it’s imprinted into your mind. You didn’t get to say goodbye yet.

Although the rain can’t, the Heavens can hear the oath you vow.

“I’ll never forget you,” you breathe, “or so help me god!”

[Present Day]

You live in fear.

Regardless of where you are, you’re constantly on edge. You look over your shoulder, running from one city to another, frightened when you catch a tall figure with tousled black hair. It’s been years since you’ve been like this but it seems like you’re still suffering without him around.

“So, we’re just going to trim half an inch of your hair.”

You smile in the mirror as the hairdresser positions her silver scissors. “Yes, please.”

But as you catch a person entering the salon, chiseled jaw and sharp nose, dark locks and great height, you flinch and cower. The lady screams, “hold still!”.

Though, it’s too late.

Your head ends up with a horrendous bob haircut. And it wasn’t who you thought it was either. The man was a stranger.

On another particular day, while making it to your work and gripping an umbrella over your head as it drizzles, across the road and past the fog, you catch a familiar person. Of course as any sane individual would, you scream and try to book it the other way. Unfortunately, your heel ends up getting caught in the cracks of the sidewalk and you collide with a random pedestrian, twisting your ankle in the process as you face-plant.

Once again, the person you saw was a stranger.

“Have you found your soulmate yet, Y/N?”

Your colleague quirks her head to the side, fingers laced together with her husband’s. You down your glass of wine, ordering another from the bar and you look her dead in her eyes.

“Don’t have one.”

She doesn’t ask anymore questions.

If you knew what your grandmother had told you all those years ago, if you knew even before this life and all the others, you would’ve stayed the fuck away from any name of Jung Hoseok.

You don’t have a soulmate. Far from it. But no longer are you dripping in envy, a green monster to the love surrounding the universe. You’re just trying to survive.

You don’t have a soulmate, though, you’re not completely free either...no...you have something much, much different and much worse. You have a destructive parasite, destined to ruin each path that you take and cause you sadness, pain, anger. You have something that is guaranteed to lie to you, betray your trust, to hurt you in ways where you’re unable to stand back up again.

Jung Hoseok is your destined enemy.

“Why couldn’t anyone else go?” You grumble incoherently underneath your breath, eyes shut tight and head leaning against the cold window. “Dammit, dammit.”

“Welcome aboard on flight W560 and thank you for flying on our airlines today. Please make sure your belt is on when the plane takes off and prepares to land. There will be a light above-”

The white noise and engine whirling in the back adds to your thumping headache and anxiousness. You try to drown out the noise, ears ringing and motion sickness teasing you as the airplane begins to roll on the taxiway to the runway. At the very least, you were in business class and there were relatively nice seats, a lot of legroom as well. Luckily, you’re also able to miss the long-winded instructions and the entire takeoff when you fall asleep for about an hour.

It’s only when your shoulder brushes with the stranger beside you that you’re gently coaxed to consciousness. It’s warm. You can’t remember the last time you had such a nice nap. And your lids flutter, slowly opening your eyes. You meet someone beside you and your lips fall. Your heart stops.

You scream.

“Shush!” Hoseok reaches over to clamp a hand over your mouth but you flinch. A flash of hurt crosses his features, and he withdraws his hands, pressing his finger to his own mouth to signal you to be quiet instead. “Stop it, Y/N!”

You continue to scream, startling and scaring all the surrounding passengers. You cower away from Hoseok, drawing your limbs together and nearly falling out of your seat like you’re afraid his touch will burn you. From the close proximity, you feel suffocated. You are smothered.

For years, you’ve been running. Ever since you knew about the past, you’ve avoided him like the plague. It must be a consequence from fate now that you’re literally boxed in a long rectangle in the sky. But if he’s here...that means something horrible is bound to happen.

Oh god...you’re going to die, aren’t you?

“The plane’s gonna fall!”

You shout in hysterics, crying so hard that you can’t see straight. The flight attendants have gathered in the commotion, trying to understand what’s happened and the reason for the sudden distressed outburst. “We’re going to crash and burn! It’s going to fall!”

The people around gasp, murmuring and panicking from your proclamation of the aircraft plunging into the ocean below.

The attendants rush to pacify you. “We need you to remain calm. Take a deep breath.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” You shake uncontrollably, hugging your own body and weeping to the point where your chest hurts. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die! Please!”

“The plane won’t fall, Miss L/N.” A flight attendant calls your name once they’ve learnt it and someone kneels in front of you. “There’s just a little bit of turbulence which is caused by strong winds. You’re going to be perfectly fine! We’re going to land in a half an hour! Would you like to walk to the front and take a breather?”

The comforting voices of the attendant and the others in the background calming the passengers around drown out of your ears. You’re still weeping, for all the centuries, all the lives you lived, for fear and hatred, for pain and sadness. Because Jung Hoseok is here.

He’s finally here when you don’t want him to be.

“I-I…”

You want to switch seats. You want to get away from the man beside you. You want an escape.

But you also know that as long as he’s on this aircraft, the possibility of it tumbling downwards to crash and burn are all the same. It doesn’t matter how close he is to you or the distance down to the millimeter. As long as he is around, you’re not safe.

“Y/N.” It’s a soft and sweet voice, an intimate timbre that rattles inside your skull and pulls you away from your blinded fit. The tears in your eyes fall, no longer clouding the surroundings. The pace of your heart thumps to a regular rhythm, breath steadying with each rise and fall of your chest.

Your eyes have locked with his. Hoseok gazes at you, having lost the details of your features from his memory and restoring all the changes that have happened over the lost years of your lives together. The man seems to hesitate before he lifts his hand, putting it on top of yours.

This time, you don’t flinch.

His thumb runs along your skin. “We’re going to be okay. Nothing’s going to happen. I swear to you. So, please, trust in me this one time.”

There’s a pause.

The flight attendant takes a sigh of relief when you’re no longer ballistic. They look between you and the man, recognizing that the pair of you must’ve had some kind of prior relationship. And they decide to stand back, somewhere nearby in case you need assistance but enough to give you space to relax.

“W-Why are you here?”

“I’m going on a business trip.” He tries to explain himself, looking down at his lap. It’s been too long since you’ve last spoken to one another. “I work at an insurance company now.”

You snort. He looks up and you provide the explanation before he can ask. “That’s ironic considering you ran over my foot.”

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “I did?”

It makes you sick. You don’t want to think about the past.

Your head leans against the window and you cross your arms, looking out at the white clouds instead of his face. There’s a chance you might punch him in the jaw and you’d certainly be detained if you did such a thing. “You just happened to sit next to me?”

“It was a coincidence.” His voice moves up a pitch in defense. “I swear, I didn’t plan this out. I don’t even know that you were going to be on this flight. You can check my ticket! I’m supposed to sit here! When I got here, I saw you asleep, so I just sat down.”

Of course, it was a coincidence. Fate is such a bitch.

Hoseok inhales a deep breath. “Y/N, I don’t even know what you’ve been doing for the past few years.”

“Good.” You mirthlessly smile and it doesn’t reach your dead eyes. “If there’s one thing I’m doing right, it’s not letting you know where the hell I am and not knowing where the hell you are. I need you to stay away from me. As far as fucking possible.”

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t.”

The last time you saw Hoseok was at the parking lot of the theaters back in university. The last time was when you kissed him, remembered and left running. In the midst, he was stunned, hand reaching out to your retreating form and pain struck in his chest and on his face.

You had begun to run since then and it’s been nearly a decade. True to the doctor’s diagnosis and your own grandmother’s words, you didn’t have a soulmate. Everyone around you had gotten married or became engaged to their kindred spirit while you wandered the planet alone.

But you didn’t care. As long as you were away from him, you didn’t want anything else.

“I still love y-”

“Be...be quiet.” It physically pains you to speak to Hoseok. “I beg of you. Before I get another anxiety attack, I need you to stop and pretend that you’re invisible. Don’t move. Don’t talk. Don’t breathe.”

You shut your eyes tight, unable to see his expression. “But I need you to listen to me.”

“I don’t want to listen, alright?!” You’ve been traumatized, the grief clinging onto each of your bones and you feel tears well up in your eyes again. Each time you look at Hoseok, the faces of your previous self shows and you recall history; the smother flames engulfing your home, illness plaguing you as the quill trembles in your hand, standing naked on a stage while a man sells you to a crowd, being beaten to a pulp and running….running...running.

And the most painful of all memories: being abandoned after knowing love.

“I’m scared of you. You scare me shitless. Every single time I’ve met you, you messed me up somehow so please!”

Fortunately for you, Hoseok complies with your wishes. For the rest of the flight, you don’t hear a single peep out of his mouth and once the plane has landed, you hurl yourself out as fast as possible.

You never once look behind.

“When are you going back to work?”

Your mother asks as she sets breakfast down at the table and your father discards the newspaper. Maybe it was taking it one step too far but now that you knew Hoseok was living somewhere in the city, you couldn’t risk going back. If you encountered him once, chances were high that he would keep coming back and back into your life.

You couldn’t return. At least not until you figured where to run off to next.

“Not sure yet. I saved a lot of vacation days up so maybe I’ll stick around for two weeks.”

Presently, you were hidden in the secluded outskirts of your grandmother’s old house. Technically, it’s your parents’ since they moved into the quiet and quaint place for their retirement years. It’s a home for you too and it’s been a long time since you’ve visited.

“Well alright then.” Your mother seems appeased by the answer and you dig into the toast. She hesitates, exchanging a look with your father and you can recall why you haven’t been back in so long. “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

“Nope.”

“Y/N, sweetie, are you even trying to look?”

“No.” By being as clear-cut and simple, you hope they won’t ask anymore. “I’d rather not.”

“But how will you ever find them?”

You fill your mouth up before pointing your fork to the pair of them, narrowing your eyes. “Didn’t you say that if they’re my soulmate, I’ll meet them anyway?”

Your father nods in agreeance. “But it doesn’t help to look for ‘em, y’know. Makes the process faster.”

Your mother hums and you can already tell the gears inside her head are beginning to turn. She considers everyone that she knows, friends of relatives, children of friends, anyone who you might know. “What about that boy that you were friends with during preschool? He went to the same schools as you all the way to college too, right? What was his name?”

Before you can stop her, she says it. “Jung Hoseok!”

You choke on your orange juice, coughing and heaving. Your mother’s eyes are twinkling, and she grins with your father. “That would make sense, huh? Together since you were children?! And I spoke to his mother a month back. He hasn’t met anyone either, right? Maybe you two are soulmates.”

“That’s impossible.”

Literally — Hoseok is the opposite of your soulmate. If your parents knew that he was your enemy, destined to cause you suffering and chaos, they’d never mention him again. Maybe they’d voodoo him and throw salt all over their doorstep too. But you can’t break the news and cause them heartache. You can’t bear to say it and let them know that their only child not only will end up alone in this life and the next, but they have someone out in the world that will cause them endless pain.

“Plus,” you add, “don’t soulmates recognize each other upon meeting?”

Your mother’s brow furrows, realizing that you’re right but your father taps his chin, not ready to give up on the idea. “I’ve been reading lately and the T.V. says there’s a lot of things that go into soulmates so who knows, maybe it’s just a late blooming relationship.”

You hold back a laugh. “I seriously doubt it.”

“Don’t give up hope, L/N Y/N. You hear me?” Your mother lectures, tone becoming stern and unyielding. “You’ll meet the one someday. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. You always do and there’s nothing you can do to run away from it!”

Christ...you can only hope she’s wrong.

The field was verdant in hue, the mint walls of your bedroom and soft beryl flowers haunted you. Green was the colour of your envy, of the luck that you didn’t have, of your greed for love and companionship. But it was also the shade of the serene nature that surrounded you, the symbol of healing and of hope. Hope that would certainly hurt you in the end.

More importantly, the colour reminded you of him. And you couldn’t bring yourself to hate it.

“Y/N! There’s someone here for you!” Your mother’s call has you stumbling down the stairs in confusion. There wasn’t anyone that you knew around these parts and- “It’s been so long! We were actually talking about you earlier. Oh, speaking of which, you haven’t met your soulmate yet, right, Hoseok?”

You freeze. Your mother moves aside. The man is standing in front of your doorway with a sheepish smile, one that conveys too many apologies at once.

He’s a hundred years too late.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just thought we should talk.”

“Now, Y/N.” Your mother butts in. “Be nice to our guest! It’s been so long since I’ve seen him as well. Hoseok, dear, would you like to go in for a drink of coffee or tea? You can stay for as long as you’d like-”

“No.” You stride past her, grabbing onto his sleeve and dragging him away. “We’re talking outside.”

It hurts. It pains you beyond belief. You never thought you had to face him again. Yet, here you are. No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you. And it drives you crazy in the worst ways.

“How did you even find me here?”

You’re tapping your foot, arms crossed, completely unimpressed with his presence. On the other hand, Hoseok is meekly smiling at you, taking in the quiet surroundings of the field. It reminds him of an era that was long ago where it was more tranquil, and he was by your side, taking aimless strolls to waste the evening away.

“You took me here in the first grade and then again in ninth and twelve. You might not remember but we grew up together.” He watches you carefully. “In this life. Not the other ones. In this one, we were friends long before anything else happened.”

“Used to be.” You correct. “We used to be friends.”

There’s a silence.

“Why are you even here, Hoseok?” You break the summer birds’ song, interrupting the sun’s fall from the horizon. “Is it to apologize so you can feel better about yourself? Do you want to try to move on? Well guess what, you’re too late. You’re lifetimes and lifetimes too late.”

He takes a moment to decide his words. “I hate that you’re afraid of me.”

You laugh without an inch of happiness. “I think it’s for good reason, don’t you?”

“I still care about you. I love you, Y/N.”

You spin on your heel, having absolutely none of it. It takes all the strength in your muscles to begin to walk away from him. Hoseok inhales a breath and for once, the roles are reversed.

He watches your backside disappear slowly, counting each step you take that increases the distance and leaves him farther away from you.

He takes the leap of courage before you’re gone.

“In the sixteenth century,” he screams and you stop, “I didn’t betray you because I wanted to. It was the plan from the start. The people were suffering and the kingdom needed to be overthrown. The painter...I...still loved you very much.”

The bandage around the wound is ripped straight off. It hasn't healed. It stings.

“When you wrote all those books in the seventeenth, I just wanted to help you and get your work out there in the world. I...I came back and I didn’t know you had d-...d...died.”

Hoseok almost begins to cry. His nails sink into his clothing. His head drops to the floor. It hits you like a bullet train - you weren’t the only one who was tortured.

You turn around to face him.

“In the eighteenth, I was a fucking douchebag, I know. But I had suffered so much as a peasant. I wanted a better life for myself. It...It wasn’t my intention to make you suffer too.”

You call his name, and he ignores you, continuing onwards.

“The nineteenth.” Hoseok smiles past saltwater eyes. “It was better for you not to gamble. I would have fed you, given you a warm home, and I was going to release you after a year. And maybe, maybe you would have stayed if I asked you to.”

You step closer to the boy and you wait for the reasons of the years that hurt you the most.

“In the twentieth — I’m sorry.”

Jung Hoseok, like all you had hoped for, collapses onto his knees. He faces the dirt, tears dripping like raindrops. “I was a coward. I was too afraid of everything.”

Your shadow looms over him. He grabs onto the hem of your sweater, anchoring him down to the ground, and he begs for your forgiveness. It’s pathetic, the way he sobs but you don’t feel a single morsel of satisfaction like you thought you would. It aches. Everywhere.

“You didn’t say goodbye to me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Your arms stay by your side and you look down at him.

“I lost the baby.”

Hoseok cries harder. “I’m sorry.”

“I waited for you.”

He continues to apologize, each one full of sincerity and anguish. “I’m sorry.”

“You were supposed to stay with me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your hand lifts. You hold Hoseok close to you, carding your fingers through the familiar black locks. It’s been the same pigment for all the centuries you’ve known each other for.

“Every single day, I waited for you to come back and you never did.”

His tears stain the fabric of your clothes. “I’m sorry.”

“You were never there when I needed you the most.”

He stands himself back up onto wobbling legs, on a face drenched with tears, with a heart weak and overwhelmed. “B-but I’m here now.” He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and you linger in the close proximity, yearning to be closer yet keeping the distance.

“I’m scared that the longer I spend with you, the worse the outcome will be in the end.”

“I’m sorry.” He shouldn’t apologize. This time, it isn’t his fault. “I just...I can’t leave you. I can’t do it. In all the lives we’ve shared together, I’ve loved you in each one. But I never fought hard enough. I never fought hard enough for you.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you scare me.” You lock your eyes with him. “I’m scared of what will happen later on, if you’ll end up causing me more grief, if I somehow die in a tragic death and never live peacefully or happily. How many more times do we have to keep living like that before we learn that it’s better to stay apart?”

“But it’s not up for fate to decide for me!” He shouts it with resentments of the past, of the hand of destiny and his own choices that have led you to become so petrified of him and to be so broken. “I don’t fucking care about destiny or about soulmates or whatever the hell we are! Enemies?! I don’t care!”

You scream back, “How can you not care?!”

“Fate doesn’t control me.” He’s out of breath and your eyes widen. “And as long as I’m breathing, I’ll make sure I’ll continue to atone for my mistakes. I’ll make sure you’re the happiest woman alive.”

“How can you be so sure?” You ask him, pleading for an answer, gazing into his eyes. “How can you be so sure of yourself? Of us?”

“Because I love you. I love you,” Hoseok repeats. “And maybe that’s not enough. Maybe it’s not enough to beat whatever’s been predetermined for us. Maybe it’s not enough to restore your trust in me. But I love you. And I can’t walk away from us. I’ll try as many times as I need to. I will fight for as many centuries as I need to. All I know is that I want to be with you....in this life and the next.”

“You’re stupid.” You shake your head. “You’re stupid for believing that we can beat fate but maybe I’m more stupid...for always fucking believing in you.”

One moment you’re shouting at each other and the next you’re tearfully laughing.

Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe you’ll end up suffering again and again, back on the endless loop of hardships and heartbreak. Maybe it’s dumb of you to think that you can beat fate at its own game. You’ve been hurt enough times. How much more can you handle and how many more times will it take for you to learn? Jung Hoseok is your destined enemy after all.

But maybe he’s right.

Maybe you have more control of your life than you thought. Maybe it isn’t up to destiny or some unseen source. At the end, your existence wouldn’t be worth anything if you keep on running away. A peaceful life but an unhappy one isn’t what you want.

You love Hoseok. In this life. In the last ones. You always have.

All you need is a leap of courage and to fight hard for what you want.

“Then let’s fight together.” You wrap your arms around him, staring at him until it’s imprinted into your mind, embracing his body and kissing his lips once - fulfilling all your wishes from the previous life. “You can make my life as much of a hell as you want. Just don’t leave.”

“I won’t.” He pulls you close, arms around your shoulders and holding you tightly. Hoseok breathes in your familiar scent, crying and endlessly grateful for your existence. He does all the things he should’ve done. And he keeps you close.

You giggle, melting into the hug. “I still love you.”

Although your love is not a burst of electricity, where the heart stops and the breath gets caught - the universe doesn’t suddenly shine in brighter hues, becoming vibrant and louder - this love is yours.

“I love you too.”

It is yours. A constant work in progress, a construction of hard effort and bruised hands, of tired and relentless struggle but it’s one that you fight for. And it’s one that you know, you’ll be proud of in the end.

“Now stop crying and come inside.” You tease him, stroking his hair and patting his back. “I think my mom and dad are watching from the window.” He nods and sniffles and you laugh.

This man was once a painter and editor, a swindler and a loan shark, a soldier as well. But now, the boy is your old friend and someone you cherish with every part of your being.

Instead of looking behind, you focus on the horizon and your fingers lace together with his. “Stay with me for a while?”

Hoseok grins. “Always.”

No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you.

And now he’s here when you need the most.

#bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #bts scenario #hoseok scenario #'insert more tags that the popular kids use these days'#FINALLY I GET TO SHARE THIS STORY #IT'S BEEN SITTING IN MY FILES FOR TOO LONG #/SLAMS DESK/#im excited

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