#mark imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lucyandthepen · 8 months

Text

salted caramel | lmh ( m )

you hadn’t been aware that mark’s jealousy followed the rules of baseball — three strikes, and he snaps?

read the first part here!

pairing: barista!bf!mark x reader verse: college!au rating: r warnings&tags: unprotected sex, mentions of creampies (although not an actual one), hickeys, possessiveness and jealousy, exhibitionism, sort of phone sex in conjunction with said exhibitionism, oral (m!receiving), mark has an understated but unending obsession with mc’s stomach, tummy bulges, we always love an implicit bigdick!mark, donghyuck is kind of a little shit and basically he has to cross a few lines for this “plot” to get to where it gets word count: 20.3k

a/n: this is a bit rushed and panicked because I basically wrote it in a feverish 2.5ish days… i’m so sorry that the pacing might be a little off, especially since I can never tell if it’s actually too fast or not. this is also unedited and unbeta’d but oh well because i never edit my stuff before posting and just re-edit when I re-read! regardless, i hope it’s something that you can enjoy, and i couldn’t pick between sweetest bf ever!mark and hottest mf ever!mark, so i guess you get a little bit of both!

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

You should have noticed it the first time, but in your overall defense, you find most things that you take note of about Mark Lee to be more on the highly positive and greatly endearing side — or, maybe, you just have a tendency to paint him in that kind of light.

You can’t really help it; he’s still got that halfway shy, softly adoring look in his eyes whenever he sees you, which is more often now than ever before, and you just can’t do anything but reciprocate, if only to see his eyes grow a little brighter. You wonder if Mark’s aware that if this were a Shakespearean scenario, you’d easily fall on your sword for him without question, for as long as he asked, but you don’t think there’s any pressing need to remind him — not with the way you spend most of your free time figuring out ways to be with him. You’re certain he should know, what with the fact that every time he looks at you, even just a glimpse, your gaze is always on him, ready to make eye contact whenever he turns his head — something he often acknowledges with one of those signature blushes that spread like wildfire across his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears.

It also should be unmistakably clear that you’re head over heels for him, given how at least once a week, he’s got his face buried between your legs in an attempt to hear the thing he wants you to say the most (see: his name, in varying pitches and decibels) — but if he doesn’t notice then, you can’t hold it against him; Mark’s mouth is so attentive that you doubt his mind is anywhere else apart from what inch of you his tongue is going to meet next in that moment. At least, that much is true for you.

He should at least know, what with you waiting for his classes to end so you can walk to Starbucks for his afternoon shift; you even race the twenty-minute distance to the Department of Mathematics, still holding your European Renaissance History textbook from your last lecture, just to make sure you’re there right as he gets out — a fact he has to know is an act of devotion, considering how often he finds you heaving for air and leaning your back against the brick wall outside the Accounting 150 Lab. Even his professor knows you as Mark Lee’s admirer, which is all well and good, but if you had the breath to spare, you’d correct his terminology for accuracy. Girlfriend. You’re Mark Lee’s girlfriend.

It’s a fact you don’t mind reminding him of but that you actually have to do quite often, because when you call Mark the appropriate counterpart — boyfriend — his eyes still widen, like he’s hearing it for the first time. It’s cute, just like everything else about him. You just have to wonder, at times, if he doesn’t believe you.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter; you’ll just keep telling him.

You don’t have any classes with Mark this semester, which is a shame, considering your favorite pastime over the last few months had just been to stare at his side profile and wish he’d look over so you could kiss him, but the fact that you spend almost every day with him now, using that time to remind him of how much you want to kiss him and actually getting it to do it right then and there, pretty much more than makes up for your previous schedule of daydreaming.

However, hanging out with him doesn’t always mean you’re just with him; you came to learn this after the first week of the new semester, and you’ve now gotten used to the fact that with Mark Lee sometimes comes his band of tall, often loud friends.

The loudest by far is Lee Donghyuck, the mysterious figure last semester that you’d only known by one syllable, now easily recognizable (and no longer enigmatic by any means to you) by his booming voice and even more demanding personality. He’s supremely outgoing, a trait you can’t say you mind, but there’s an interesting contrast between Mark, who tends to say things after carefully considering his ideas, and Donghyuck, who seems to just burst out in fits of impulsive rambling that often leads to some kind of semi-structured debate. It kind of gives you whiplash, in a funny, slightly perplexing way.

The whole friend group likes to meet up at Starbucks while Mark is on his shift, and now that they’ve come to know you as that girl Mark didn’t teach a single thing in College Algebra to but still somehow got lucky with (something you’ve wasted immense efforts into correcting but have ultimately failed to do so), you now find yourself sitting with them, all somehow waiting for who appears to be the nucleus of this group to stop taking coffee orders and hang up his (cute, but you’re the only one that thinks so, actually) green apron.

Again, you don’t mind it; new people aren’t an issue to you, and you’re also interested in finding out more about Mark through those closest to him. You get to see the few ways they’re alike in contrast to the staggering number of things that make them amusingly different from one another. Despite the broad spectrum of their intersecting interests, you’ve come to learn, through the conversations you’ve had to sit through over the last month, that they have varying opinions on said interests. For instance, you know they’re all into video games, Japanese manga, and long-winding fantasy movies, but every conversation takes flight the moment there’s even a spark of dissent from one person — and the source, usually (and quite unfortunately), is Lee Donghyuck himself.

Today is no exception.

“Dude, you’re crazy,” Zhong Chenle practically seethes. Whether by sheer coincidence or actual desire, he’s the one who most often finds himself staring Donghyuck down, trying to bend the latter’s will into admitting defeat. Donghyuck, on the other hand, has mastered the art of looking supremely unperturbed, especially when Chenle is in the heat of his rage. “The ninth was the worst, hands down.”

“Art and rendering were so solid.” Donghyuck raises a finger, and you’re not sure if it’s to start off a list or to shut Chenle up. You don’t want to ask, anyway, too busy finding amusement in the shifting expressions of despair, rage, anguish, and murderous intent on the latter’s face to speak up. You presume that’s why everyone else isn’t stopping them — or maybe they’re just preparing their own defenses and points to raise. “Intuitive combat and flawless combo chains. The fucking open world? Which other installment in the franchise offers that much depth in the gameplay?”

“Depth? Do you even hear yourself right now?” Chenle grips his head so tightly that when he pulls his hands away, there are actual red marks across his forehead and temple, and his bangs are askew. “What kind of depth comes from cloned movesets? The character designs are so stupidly traditional too. And—”

“There’s a unique kind of beauty in familiarity.”

“The open world was a disaster,” Chenle plows on. “It was so empty, and the map was the farthest thing from intuitive. It’s quite literally the worst thing KOEI has ever done. That’s exactly why they went back to the limited map strategy in later installments. Even the spin-offs.”

“I thought the grappling and ambush systems were pretty intuitive. Ingenious, even.”

It’s a singularly amusing sight — Chenle is one insult to his pride away from imploding, and Donghyuck is just checking the dirt under his nails like he’s waiting in line to take his school ID photo. Park Jisung, one of the quieter ones in the bunch, tries to diffuse the tension by clearing his throat and going ‘I actually really liked the Age Of Calamity Zelda one they released with all the different campaigns,’ but that just goes unnoticed by either party.

“You once failed an ambush play just because you were stuck behind a wall you couldn’t scale. Don’t say shit about the ambush and grappling mechanics.”

“Unlike some people sitting around this table, I learn from my mistakes. That’s also probably why some people — not naming names — just can’t appreciate the artistic beauty that is Dynasty Warriors 9.”

Donghyuck doesn’t even look up from his cuticles when Chenle explodes.

“You’re fucking impossible!”

“Can you guys relax?” Lee Jeno, who had somehow miraculously found the space and silence in the breaths between the entire argument to doze off, opens one eye, only slightly irate. “You’re making a scene over a dead game franchise.”

“It’s not dead; they’re on hiatus,” both Chenle and Donghyuck chime in together, apparently finding a moment of unique solidarity to shoot Jeno down before going back to glaring daggers at each other. Jeno shrugs, gives everyone else at the table an I tried kind of exasperated expression, and settles back into his seat, the one eye already closing before he’s fully folded his arms across his chest.

Your eyes wander away from the group over to the counter. You’re thankful for the fact that most of the time, you just get invited to share a table with them without necessarily being trapped in the middle of a conversation — especially one as heated as the one Chenle is prolonging while jabbing his finger accusingly at Donghyuck, as if he’s trying to pin a crime on the latter instead of just explaining why Donghyuck’s opinion is ‘borne of ignorance.’ When they’re all caught up in their business like this, you end up being able to revel in your more or less unobstructed view of Mark behind the barista’s station, where he’s busy piping an extra helping of whipped cream on top of a strawberry frappuccino for a kid that’s already jumping up and down next to the pick-up station.

The biting winter had already given way to the first signs of spring, and the Starbucks Mark works at has a supremely effective central heating system that allows people to shed their coats. This works in your favor, considering Mark wears nothing but a button-up shirt over his apron while he works, and he’s got this habit of rolling up his sleeves so they don’t catch any stains. You’re pretty sure he has a second motive, though; surely, he’s aware of how the view of his arms, muscles tightening under his skin whenever he even lightly grips something, drives you crazy. You’d bet a month’s allowance he’s doing it on purpose so that you start entertaining the thought of yelling at everyone in the branch to fuck off so you can grab him by the front of his stupid shirt so you can kiss his stupid face. Or ride it.

And for some inexplicable reason, he still has the audacity to act like there’s nothing amiss. When he looks up at you right after pushing the frappuccino towards the little girl, his eyes still brighten, almost innocent in their gaze, the corners of his lips turning up surreptitiously, hiding the smile he seems to save for only you from everyone else in the room.

You smile back, but when he turns away to take someone’s order, you let out a heavy sigh and take a long sip of your vanilla sweet cream cold brew until you start reaching the last dregs of it under the ice. Your brain pretty much cries out in protest, but you know it deserves as much as a mental cold shower for entertaining the thought of asking him to bend you over the counter at five-thirty in the afternoon in a Starbucks.

Stupid Mark. Stupid brain. Stupid fucking people in the room.

The warm breath in your ear alerts you to a slowly approaching presence, but you don’t have the reflexes to turn back to its source before it starts talking.

“Got anything to add to either of our cases, ___________?”

“What?” Your palm comes up to rub your ear as Donghyuck pulls away, laughing lightly. You’re sucked back into the foreground of the conversation, but you’re just as lost now as you had been before you started tuning them out in favor of your lust. “Uh — no. Sorry. To be honest, I know nothing about… sorry, what were you guys talking about again?”

“See, that’s how normal people act,” Jeno grumbles, both his eyes flying open this time. “Instead of hosting a presidential debate about Dynasty Warriors.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” You’re quick to add, and Jeno looks mildly amused at your attempt to still mollify the rest of the group. “I’m sure I would have liked it. If, you know, I actually had been introduced to it at any point in my life.”

“And if you had, I’m sure you’d have the taste to assert alongside me that the seventh installment was revolutionary,” Chenle sniffs, but he’s looking more pointedly at Donghyuck, who’s still ignoring him, save for the fact that he’s now looking at you instead of at his nails (which doesn’t feel like such a great upgrade).

“Nah, she’d be on my side. ___________ looks like she’d appreciate a good, scenic open world and grappling system. Right?”

“Uh…” you say smartly.

“Man, shut up.” Chenle throws his hands in the air before he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back with astounding force. “Got me so pissed off I need to pee now.”

You have no idea what the correlation is between getting annoyed and needing to use the bathroom, but even if you wanted to bring up your doubts — which you don’t — Chenle is long gone before you can get your thoughts together. It’s only when he’s out of earshot that Donghyuck leans in, almost conspiratorially, to whisper to you again.

“Actually, I think the ninth sucks too. But isn’t it kind of funny how worked up that fucker gets?”

“To be honest, I’ve never known anyone with quite your talent in riling people up,” you admit, and even though you’re not sure what kind of meaning you want attached to that, you notice that he decides to take it as a compliment all on his own, his chest puffing out in pride. “Too bad I have no idea which opinion is really right, or I’d weigh in, too.”

“Not a Dynasty Warriors kind of girl, then?”

“No one is, Hyuck,” Jeno snorts, shaking his head. “You two are the only people I know who still played that past the fifth installment.”

“Fair. I nurture a love for old franchises.” Donghyuck leans back, looking supremely satisfied at how he’s managed to tick off one of his most important ‘to-do’ points of the day. “So what’s your poison, ___________?”

“What’s that mean?”

“You a Gardenscapes kind of girl? Tekken? Maybe you like some good ol’ fashioned LoL?”

“I honestly don’t have the hand-eye coordination to play,” you confess. “I know Mark likes to play PUBG from time to time. I mostly just sit and ask questions, though. The few times I tried playing with him, I swear any normal person would’ve cried. He had to babysit me like crazy. It was a miracle he didn’t throw me out.”

“She even tries to play with him,” Donghyuck whistles lowly. “Dude, how’d Mark get a chick like you?”

“Meaning?”

“You’re way too good for that dope.” His laugh is light and good-natured. “Never thought a moony-eyed weirdo like him would actually wind up with his dream girl — which he’s called you, more than once, by the way. Fucking disgusting, but… I get it. Doesn’t make it less crazy or weird to hear, though.”

“Sorry to put you through that.” You smile, using your straw to stir the contents of your cup. A warmth spreads through your shoulders and down your arms to the tips of your fingers as you digest what Donghyuck’s just said to you, and you find your eyes trailing back to Mark, who’s pulling off his apron. His eyes are already fixed on you, and when you lock gazes, he mouths a wait for me that makes you want to squeeze the life out of something in pure joy. You settle for a soft sigh. “I guess it won’t help if I say your friend over there’s my dream guy.”

“It absolutely will not,” Donghyuck groans, faking a gagging noise that has you laughing. “But tell you what — if you ever get tired of Mark playing PUBG and ignoring you like the clown he is, I’ll find you someone else more your speed.”

“No thanks,” you snort, taking the last sip of your drink. “More than that, I’d just want to be some kind of helpful to him if I ever play with him again.”

“We can help you with that too,” Jisung volunteers. “Jeno taught me the basics. I’m sure he can teach you too.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing you’d be a better student than mister “how come you didn’t tell me I had to focus the crosshairs myself” over here,” Jeno chuckles, surreptitiously pointing at Jisung when you cast him a questioning look.

“I’m pretty good at sneak attacks myself.” Donghyuck makes a show of pretending to slice your neck before grinning smugly. “We’ll take care of you. Mark won’t know what hit him next time.”

“What’s happening to me next time?”

You feel Mark before you see him, his hand landing on your head lightly and smoothing your hair back in an idle, gentle motion to announce his presence. You look up at him, already beaming, and he returns the favor as his hand settles on your shoulder.

“We were just talking about replacing you. Both as a friend and as a boyfriend, for your poor little dream girl here who’s just too nice to turn you down.” Donghyuck lies like it’s second nature; you wonder if that’s a Finance major thing or just a him thing.

“And you’re offering that to someone who didn’t ask for it?” Mark snorts, nudging Chenle’s bag over so he can sit in the empty spot.

“She’s so caught up in your sticky little web that she can’t struggle against you.” Donghyuck feigns a heavy sigh that suggests he feels sorry for you before he puts a hand on your free shoulder, shaking his head in a convincing kind of pity. “I’ll save you, so don’t worry. Mark can’t keep his grubby hands on you forever. Whenever you need to be saved, I’ll come a-running to free you.”

There’s a tightness on one shoulder that disrupts the balance of your torso, and you find yourself leaning closer to Mark. Your hand finds its way to his knee, giving it a light squeeze under the table, and his grip loosens by a fraction. Donghyuck’s as quick to let go as he is to hang on.

“We were just talking about PUBG,” you correct, and Mark’s eyes snap to you. “I was asking for help — you know, so I won’t drag you down the next time I join in?”

“I don’t mind whatever you do in-game.” He’s quick to comfort you, even if you don’t actually need it, but it feels warm and cold “I’m just glad you wanna try it with me.”

“No, but I kind of want to learn too. So it can be fun for both of us. Also so you don’t have to keep avenging me after five minutes,” you laugh. Mark cracks a smile then, and you don’t realize his expression had been slightly harder until it softens under your gaze.

“Then I’ll teach you next time.”

“No, I want to surprise you with how cool I get. And then next time, I’ll even beat you.” You turn to Donghyuck, slightly unsure. “Uh… I can beat him, can’t I?”

“If you play different teams, yeah,” he confirms. “Trust me. I’ll help you kick his ass.”

“Or we’ll both kick yours,” Mark chuckles, his grasp now tightening and loosening intermittently. He’s massaging your shoulder lightly, and you end up sinking deeper into his side. You don’t miss the slightly nauseated amusement that passes across Donghyuck’s face nor the way he mouths ‘sap’ to Mark, who ignores this comment in its entirety.

“Yo, hotpot at seven? Renjun’s asking,” Chenle announces as he returns to your table, his phone in one hand and a crumpled paper towel in the other. “Jaemin can’t make it, though. Study group or whatever shit he always says.”

“I’m down,” Donghyuck immediately replies, and Chenle’s eyes shoot heavenward, like he’s already asking for the divine strength to not sock Donghyuck in the face later.

“Can’t,” Jeno yawns, both his arms outstretched as he tries to move the sleep out of his spine. “Pre-test tomorrow.”

“Dude, it’s a pre-test,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to study if they’re just testing how much you know before studying.”

“Gotta study all the same.”

“I gotta pass too,” Jisung looks actually apologetic. “I promised my mom I’d help her move some stuff to my aunt’s place tonight.”

“Boring,” Chenle grumbles before turning to the both of you. “Lovebirds?”

“Rain check,” Mark shakes his head. “Family dinner. My brother’s home for the weekend. How about Monday instead? Most of us can’t make it anyway. At least Jaemin doesn’t have study group either.”

“If that’s even what that weirdo’s doing,” Chenle sighs, already punching in a message to send to Renjun. “Fine; I’ll ask about Monday. You guys better actually reply to the goddamn group chat. I can’t coordinate in six different private chats ever again.”

“You can put my name down already,” Mark casts you a sideway glance, and you nod immediately. “Two names, actually.”

“I’m good on Monday too. When we see each other again, I’ll bring some prospects for you to sift through,” Donghyuck adds to you, and you laugh. “Cool guys. Jocks. I know this upperclassman all the girls say is really hot. I think I still have his Messenger from when we did a group discussion last semester.”

“I’ll have Mark look at them so he can reject them all for me,” you promise. Donghyuck feigns affront before looking at Mark in utter disbelief.

“How the fuck did you snag a girl like this, man?”

“I’m pretty sure she once told me I… what did you say?” Mark glances at you amusedly. “I had some moves, I guess.”

“You mean stutter and blush in her presence?” Donghyuck can’t decide how to look at you without being even the slightest bit offensive; he just settles on incredulity. “And that won you over?”

“Most powerful move in the Mark Lee playbook,” you shrug, grinning. “Had me from the first ‘um,’ and he’s had me ever since.”

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Donghyuck snorts, and neither of you misses the slightly abashed but unmistakable smugness in Mark’s face when you lean in to rest your head on his shoulder.

The second time it happens is on that Monday, in a far more noticeable capacity. You just aren’t quick enough to read the signs, as usual.

But in your defense (again), it hadn’t felt all that significant.

“Fuck, this is spicy,” Na Jaemin sucks air in through his teeth and lets it out in a sharp whistle that’s broken by a laugh that’s not necessarily at anything funny. Maybe he’s just laughing at the sheen of sweat across his forehead that he has to wipe off with the other side of his napkin.

Miraculously, the hotpot plan pushes through, with no small amount of effort in coordination on Chenle’s part; he’d even texted you just to make sure he’d gotten the head count right, despite the fact that Mark had already confirmed your attendance twice over. Even the often elusive Na Jaemin, who always seems to have one or another study group to attend on most nights, manages to come and is currently busy mixing his peanut sauce in his little bowl with such vigor that you can’t help but wonder if he’s not trying to drown the mala-flavored strips of meat in it completely.

“That’s why I said you need a bowl of water for dipping, you dimwit,” Donghyuck points his chopsticks at Jaemin’s messy plate in a way you can only describe as nagging, even if that’s actually impossible. “You’ve got super mala breath now.”

“Don’t know about me, but I can smell yours all the way from over here,” Jaemin quips back with an easy kind of nonchalance, hastily ducking the balled-up napkin that goes flying across the table. It lands on the floor behind his chair harmlessly.

It’s nice, you think, that Mark’s friends like to invite you to their outings now; despite all the jokes they’ve made at his expense, they’ve been consistently open to having you around. You’re not necessarily the type of couple that acts in a way that disgusts people into moving to a completely different table anyway, and you allow their conversations to unfold easily without ever interrupting, so you think that this arrangement works for all parties involved.

They’re even louder outside Starbucks, you’ve come to note; the restaurant is significantly busier than the cafe anyway, filled with people on their company dinners, so Mark’s friends all seem to want to rival that boisterous energy. Weirdly, you like it, even when they’re already half off their seats and one (Chenle) is just about to strangle the other (Donghyuck). The laughter flows freely, and there’s a messiness to the whole affair that makes it impossible to feel uncomfortable.

Even Mark pipes in occasionally, offering his opinion on topics he knows much more about than you, and you can’t help but admire how everyone listens to him when he starts to speak, even if he has nothing realistically important to say. His friends might find it odd that you’d been so drawn to him, but they just don’t know that even they’re victims of Mark’s natural magnetism, also falling quiet and eager to hear his voice, his light-hearted laugh, in response to the things they say.

But even when he’s mostly distracted by conversation, there’s a part of him that continuously pays attention to you in his own way. He nudges his ginger and soy sauce bowl towards you with the side of his wrist so you can dip your beef in, even if you’d adamantly declined him giving you your own bowl of it in the first place (you’d always thought you were peanut sauce or nothing kind of girl, but one sneaky venture into Mark’s sauce proved you wrong). His hand hovers over your head when you drop your chopsticks and bend over to pick them up from where they’ve rolled under the table, making sure you’re bump-free when you resurface.

And his palms always, always settle somewhere on you, no matter what he’s doing. If one hand is busy feeding himself, the other is intent on warming your thigh, passing over the denim in slow, steady strokes. His fingers tickle your knee when you laugh, just to make you laugh a little harder — you’d even almost kneed the table at one point, much to Huang Renjun’s alarm. But the most common place for his arm is around you, fingers lightly bunched into the side of your shirt, like he’s worried loosening his grip on you further will cause you to vanish. It keeps him close to you, keeps his scent and warmth washing over you in gentle waves, so much so that you often have to remind yourself that he’ll be the target of much light-hearted mockery if you so much as lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder.

But it’s hard to resist it, especially when his hand seems to be intent on outlining every curve on that side, passing over your hip and dipping into your waist. The motion allows him to slowly but surely lift the fabric of your shirt, up until there’s just enough of an opening for his palm to slip under, and suddenly it’s much warmer on that side, with the light roughness of his hand grazing at your skin. His fingers always stretch apart, like he’s trying to feel as much of you as he can, and the pads of his digits have a tendency to graze the plane of your stomach — his nails sometimes even travel featherlight just next to your navel, etching out words you can’t really decipher. Like he’s writing a message just for you.

It makes you feel like no matter what he’s doing, a part of his mind is always on you.

“You guys want to see that new horror movie? The Ghost Within, I think it’s called,” Jisung asks the group from over at the other end of the table, having to raise his voice significantly to make sure it isn’t swept away by the raucous laughter from across the restaurant. “I think it’s coming out in a week or two.”

“I’d be okay with it,” Renjun shrugs, although he doesn’t look enthused. “Kind of looks like a cliche horror with all those cheap jump scares and shit, but I’m down if you all are.”

A wave of assent passes over the group in general, but you notice Mark doesn’t immediately respond. You take this opportunity to lean in and confess your stance.

“If I have to sit around and watch a ghost pop out at me from a big-ass movie screen, you may never again see me in the same wonderful light you do today,” you warn. “Remember me as I am, not as I will be, Mark Lee.”

He snorts, coughing lightly as a mixture of ginger and fishcake sticks in his throat. “Yeah — we’ll pass, I think.”

“Scaredy-cat,” Donghyuck teases, and you’re surprised that Mark doesn’t come to his own defense. There’s something romantic in him not wanting to be the one to sell you out, but you suppose there’s also a kind of chivalry in being the one to take the bullet.

“Actually, I’m the one who can’t handle it well,” you smile in apology. “Sorry. I don’t have much of a reputation, so to speak, but what elegance may be attached to my name, however misplaced, is something I really want to maintain. At least until I graduate.”

“In short, you don’t want Mark to see you scream and cry,” Chenle deduces. You can’t even find fault in him figuring it out so quickly.

“Bingo.”

“Well, we can solve the problem,” Donghyuck claps his hands, getting everyone’s attention for no good reason. “__________, you sit beside me, and Mark can sit on the far end of the row. With how dark it is, he won’t see anything, and I get to sit next to a cute girl in a movie theater. Win-win.”

“Thanks for the offer,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But it’s not a win-win if I accidentally grab your hand out of instinct.”

“It is to me,” Donghyuck winks, and you feel Mark’s hand stop brushing over your stomach. His fingers curl in lightly, almost like he’s trying to make a fist but can’t quite get to that point out of personal restraint. “Or better yet, you could do what we all think you should do and dump Mark for someone you won’t be ashamed to cry in front of. I, for one, would not even bother to comment on whatever emotions you’re going through in the middle of a movie, so what do you say? It’s a pretty sweet deal, in my humble opinion. Me versus Mark Lee. The showdown of the century, right here in Hai Di Lao.”

You’ve noticed that the more Donghyuck piles onto his little teasing rampage, the more forcefully Mark tugs you over; his fingers aren’t just skimming over your skin but have now grown into the habit of gently pinching it, as if begging for your attention. It feels nice but also a little urgent, although it’s hard for you to understand why; the whole foundation of this group is built on teasing each other until someone (Chenle) snaps and lobs a bottle cap at someone else (Donghyuck), so it should be normal for Mark to be at the receiving end of some light banter.

“Should we ask the hostess to referee the match, then?” You ride along with the joke.

“No way. You’re the one calling the shots.” Donghyuck sits up a little straighter, putting on a smug face. “Okay, pick, __________. Me or Mark; who’s got the better punches?”

You make a show of acting thoughtful, even tapping your chin to pretend considering it deeply, but there was never any doubt on your choice. Still, you can’t really decipher the sudden slowness, the light tremble in Mark’s palm as it travels to your hip, where it settles, heavy, over the curve.

“It’s a complete knock-out,” you finally announce, grinning. “Championship belt goes to Mark.”

“Man, if I had a girlfriend as straight-shooting about her feelings for me as you are about your feelings for Mark, I’d propose in a day, max,” Jeno groans, half-exasperated and half-amused all at once.

“Man must’ve saved a nation or something in his past life,” Donghyuck grimaces. “No way he deserves a girl this hot and crazy about him. Hey — got any tips on stopping natural disasters or something? I could use a sexy, loyal girlfriend in my next life. Or maybe I’ll just poach yours in this one and see what it feels like.”

“I would actually deck you, so don’t even try it,” Mark snorts, his arm now winding full around your waist. You’re flush against his side, and he uses this opportunity to do something he doesn’t often do in front of his friends: show explicit affection by pressing a light kiss just behind your ear. It tickles, his breath grazing your earlobe, and you giggle, squirming in his hold. All he does is smile and pull you in tighter.

The bill’s split eight ways, but Mark’s fishing out cash to pay for your share even before you can get your wallet out from the bottom of your bag; it’s one of those quick, instinctive moves he likes to use on you, where he pushes the money and sends the bill back to the staff before you can even protest in full, so you have to settle on thanking him by returning the earlier favor — landing a peck on his cheek, which flushes a warm and contented pink the moment your lips make contact.

You just pointedly ignore the snickers that run around the table, particularly from Donghyuck and Jaemin.

The group splits ways at the front of the school dorms; most of them head in after their goodbyes, while Chenle backtracks towards his apartment building off-campus, mumbling something about how he hopes his roommate’s in because he accidentally left his key in the bowl next to their doorway. Mark should be piling in with the rest into the dorms, but he has a habit of insisting that he take you to the subway station; you’ve long since given up on convincing him against tagging along, mostly because he looks slightly hurt whenever you try to get him to stay put. You’re not going to complain anyway; for as much as you like being around Mark’s friends, it’s even better when you have this little slice of alone time despite the hassle it brings him.

Your fingers are linked when you walk under the street lights, the campus road leading to the station entrance significantly less busy at this time of evening; it’s cool enough for you to have an excuse to press yourself into Mark’s form, and he accepts this additional burden with an immense amount of grace, his arm finding its way around you again. Two minutes later, his palm is pressed against your bare skin once more, rubbing small, gentle circles just above your pelvis.

A part of you wonders if you’ll be able to do this — lean in, flush against him — when the summer heat starts to stick, but rather than really worrying about the logistics, you realize you’re more hung up on the idea of spending this summer with him.

“Sorry,” Mark murmurs out of the blue. Your eyebrows shoot up, and he looks down at you sheepishly. “Isn’t hanging out with my friends kind of driving you crazy?”

You hum in thought before shaking your head in resolution. “Not really. Not in a bad way, at least. I like how close you guys all are — and how big the group is. It’s usually just Yeji and Jisu with me, and they’re definitely not as rowdy. The change of pace is pretty fun.”

“Yeji and Jisu,” he echoes. “Your best friends. I haven’t met them yet, have I?”

“Not yet. Jisu started a part-time job across town, so we can’t get our schedules to align right just yet.” Your hip collides gently with his. “Should I let you, though?”

“One day… I think it would be nice to hang out with a less migraine-inducing crowd for a change.”

“I’ll tell them, then. They want to meet you.” You crane your neck up slightly, lowering your voice into a hushed whisper that’s completely unnecessary. “They want to know if you’re as cute as you look in your pictures.”

Mark draws back, laughing incredulously. “How do they know what my pictures look like?”

“I stalked your Instagram and showed them,” you answer simply. He throws you a funny look that’s equal parts disbelief and amusement. “They liked that one with the Spider-man costume.”

“Please don’t,” he groans, passing a hand over his face. “I should have taken that down, but I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“Why? I like it.” Your hand’s the one that manages to slip under his sweater this time, fingers trailing down his stomach; you feel him suck it in for a second in surprise before he lets out an exhale.

“I can’t ever understand what’s going through your head,” he chuckles, and you think it’s unfair that he manages to extract your hand from under the fabric while his is still firmly pressed against the side of your stomach. “You saw that and still wanted to date me?”

“Mark Lee, you simply underestimate how much I adore you. It’s kind of hurting my feelings at this rate.”

You’re just a few inches shy of the circle of light cast by the subway station sign. Your feet try to bring you forward, but Mark lingers behind, just outside the curve of soft white on the pavement, and his hand slips from under your shirt. You turn, and his hand skims down your arm instead, fingers locking around your wrist. With the slight distance between you, it looks like you’re caught in motion.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”

“What?”

“I just look over at you and feel like it’s not real. Like you’re going to disappear, and I’m just going to wake up from a dream and see you the next day, just some other stranger who doesn’t even know my name.” He licks his lips, and you want to reach out and kiss him already, but you know he isn’t done talking. “And I’m going to remember how much I liked you in that dream, but you won’t ever feel that same way.”

“You know I’m right here, though, don’t you?” Your fingers mimic his, squeezing around his wrist. “You can feel me. I’m here with you.”

Hesitation flashes across his face even when he nods, and you notice his eyes flit down to his shoes before looking back up at you — a habit of avoidance you know he’s trying to correct. “Sometimes I have to wonder if they’re right.”

“If… who’s right?”

“Them.” He jerks his thumb back in the general direction of the school dorms. “The guys. You know — when they ask me how I got a girl like you… the truth is, I don’t even really know. They can’t believe it, and it’s so crazy to me that I still sometimes can’t myself. So I start wondering if—”

You don’t let him finish this time; it’s rude to interrupt, you know, but you also know that what he’s about to say is probably something neither of you wants to hear anyway. Your lips connect with his, firm and demanding, and his words die in his throat, melting into a soft groan that vibrates against your skin. When you pull away, you don’t create the same distance, and Mark’s hands find their way to your waist, slightly trembling.

“They’re wrong,” you murmur, a quiet strength in your voice. “So stop wondering and just be with me.”

A smile starts tugging on the corners of his mouth, and the next moment, he’s nodding in assent, in wholehearted agreement, and the next kiss you share is one he starts, far more gentle than earlier.

“Next time I catch you entertaining nonsensical thoughts, there’ll be consequences.”

“Are you threatening me?” His laugh is colored with incredulity.

“Yes.” Your tone is firm, but your grin gives away too much of the jest. “Maybe I’ll ground you for a week, or something really childish.”

“I’d take it if you were with me.”

“That’s not how it works,” you snort, gently flicking the tip of his nose. He scrunches it on impact. “You’d be in solitary. You must reflect on your actions and all that nonsense. Meanwhile, I’ll be out having some good hotpot with everyone else.”

“If that happens, promise me one thing, then.” He maneuvers your stance until you’re both back in the blanket of darkness, just out of reach of the subway entrance. “Don’t sit next to Donghyuck.”

“And let him and Chenle give me an earful about how bad-slash-good the first Human Centipede movie was all over again? I think not.”

“No, really.” Mark buries his face into your neck, and you hear the quiet inhale as he breathes in your scent. On instinct, your hand comes up to thread through his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp. “I don’t want you sitting there and hearing him talk your ear off about how much I don’t deserve you or that he’ll help you find someone better.”

“You know he’s just joking — and I’m just joking, right?”

“Just promise me.”

You pause, wondering if it’s in your best interest to tease him for whatever act he’s pulling, but there’s a shortness to his breathing that makes the whole situation feel weirdly tense. He’s really waiting for something — an answer. The right answer, maybe.

“I promise,” you finally say, and you know you’ve said the correct thing when Mark’s lips press a soft kiss to your collarbone, like he’s sealing in your vow.

On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.

The strangest thing is that it starts at a time when you’re not even actually together; if you had to pinpoint the exact moment, it probably had to be when Donghyuck had walked you to the dorm from library. No — maybe even before that. Somewhere in the time you’d spent in there, he’d thought up yet another way to push Mark’s buttons. You just didn’t really know the exact minute he’d first seen you with Jung Jaehyun.

You don’t know how Jaehyun does it; he skips half his classes and somehow doesn’t even get in trouble, let alone fail. You’d only met him last semester, but he was just about the only person who was halfway familiar in your Anthropology 120 class, so you thought you could at least feel comfortable enough to chat with him about the weather or what had happened in the last meeting. You don’t expect him to strong-arm you into being something of a literal proxy for him; the first week of the semester, you’d spend almost each lecture period gnawing on your nails and fretting over the fact that your signature for attendance looked nothing like his. By the second week, you’d already come to realize that it doesn’t matter because he had only attended one lecture — the first one — thus far and your professor was as clueless about Jaehyun’s handwriting as you. By the fourth week, you had resigned yourself to being his slightly unwilling associate for his random escapades, allowing him to copy off your notes and turning in his homework for him.

Now that you think about it, that’s probably how he does it.

You sacrifice your free time for him today, caged up in a library for pretty much the afternoon. You can’t help but resent him, not just because the whole room is stuffy and the librarian keeps passing by, clucking to remind people not to litter between shelves, but also because you’d much rather do things that are important to you — like pretending to flirt with Mark for the first time when you place your order and watching him act like it’s the first time you’re saying something so sweet to him, except he’s definitely not pretending. Instead of watching Mark’s face color that cute shade of pink and that sweet little smile pull at his mouth until he’s basically biting his lips back to stop himself from grinning, you have to bore yourself with the sight of Jaehyun trying to decipher your handwriting.

“You should really be more legible with your strokes.” He has the audacity to chastise you as if he’s the one doing you a favor by giving you constructive criticism.

“You should really come to class more often,” you bite back, although there’s no real heat to your words. You just look out the window and watch the sun sink down behind the university hospital building, wondering if there’s a chance you’ll still be able to catch Mark before his shift ends.

“Would if I could.”

“You actually fucking can,” you say tiredly, and even the way he turns the page is so impossibly slow. “Can’t you just take a picture?”

“Nah; writing it down carefully really helps my retention of this kind of stuff.”

“So take a picture and then write it down carefully.”

“With your ridiculous handwriting? I’d probably fail.”

“So come to class and write it yourself!”

Your hiss increases in pitch, and it calls the attention of the librarian over to you. She swoops in, clicking her tongue, but she’s not even looking at you. Her eyes are zoned in on Jaehyun, who meets her gaze with so much innocence it’s hard to imagine you’d wanted to smack him two minutes ago.

“Jung Jaehyun,” the librarian snaps in an undertone. The slow, punctuated way she says his name suggests she knows him fairly well — and not in a great way. “I see you’re back in here after your probationary period.”

“Sorry for the trouble, Mrs. Park.” He grins up at her, looking anything but apologetic. “I promise I won’t get in your way again today.”

“And this one—” She points to you, and you point to yourself in shock at being pointed to, and Jaehyun’s pointing at you and mouthing ‘this one’ with excessive mirth in his eyes. “Isn’t another one of those girls you plan on defiling my sacred space with?”

Jaehyun says ‘we didn’t defile anything’ at the same time you say I’m going to throw up, and the librarian just adds to the noise by shushing you on top of that jumble of words.

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you two,” Mrs. Park warns before stalking away, tutting at a library assistant for wrongly shelving a volume of Encyclopedia Brittanica.

“Please, Jaehyun,” you groan, crossing your arms over the table and flattening your forehead against them. “Just hurry up. Release me.”

He ignores you, still leaning closer to your notebook to decipher your handwriting. “I would like to set the record straight and make it known I didn’t fuck anyone in the library.”

“What’d you get probation for, then?”

“Just making out.” You notice he has the energy to grin wickedly even without meeting your eye, even while he’s still scrawling on his own notebook, and you groan something incoherent and irate once again. “What are you in such a big hurry for, anyway?”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you grumble, raising your head. “That some people might want to do better things than sit here and watch you write stuff for ages?”

“No,” comes his simple reply. You bop your head onto your arms a few times in the hope that the impact will shake you out of this nightmare and you’d find yourself waking up in Mark’s arms instead, but you have no such luck. “By better things, do you mean fucking Mark Lee in someone else’s bedroom? That’s real defilement, by the way.”

“How’d you hear about that?” You squeeze your eyes shut and growl under your breath. “Fucking Youngho.”

“You doing that too?”

“Shut — please, would you hurry?”

He pointedly purses his lips in an effort to keep himself from letting out what you can only assume is, by the glint in his eyes, a witch’s cackle. “Almost done, man. Relax a bit. So did you guys get together — like, together together?”

You initially contemplate not telling him, but Jaehyun’s nosiness is probably going to reveal the truth to him sooner or later anyway. “Yeah. What’s it to you, though?”

“Nothing. You’re lucky.”

For the first time today, you feel like Jaehyun has finally said something right. “Yeah — yeah, I am.”

“I bet his friends don’t seem to think so.”

“Is this something you know because it’s a guy thing or because you’re so nosy that you just can’t help but listen in on every other juicy conversation around you?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles. “Mostly just because I know Lee Donghyuck was giving him a hard time about it last semester.”

“I noticed that too — a bit, anyway. But it’s just banter, I think.”

“Probably. Imagine being his friend and getting a girlfriend; it’s like… the perfect ammunition for teasing. But I’m pretty sure half of the things that come out of his mouth are jokes meant to annoy.”

“What about yours?”

“I get it,” he sighs, shutting your notebook resolutely. It makes a thud that alerts the librarian two tables away, and she glares at you like you’re climbing onto Jaehyun’s lap in the middle of the References on the Korean War aisle. “I’ll set you free. Thanks, by the way, for letting me copy from you. Same time next week?”

“Or how about you look up the schedules for our classes and actually come instead of piggybacking off of my efforts and making snarky remarks about my handwriting while you’re taking advantage of my goodwill?”

“Sounds like too much effort on my end,” he yawns, waving you off as you stuff your notebook into your bag. “Later, ___________. Say hi to Mark for me. The normal way — not the girlfriend way, please.”

You stick your tongue out at him before you make a mad dash for the door, ignoring Mrs. Park as she shushes your footsteps on the marble. You’re so intent on fishing your phone out of your bag that you almost ram the door into the person standing behind it.

“Oh, fuck— Jesus, I’m sorry, I wa— wait, Donghyuck?”

“Great to see you too, ___________.” He rubs his jaw where the edge of the door grazed it. “You in a rush?”

“I was just about to go see if Mark was still at Starbucks.”

“His shift’s probably almost over. I’m headed back to the dorm if you wanna tag along.” When you nod, he starts leading the way, breaking the silence again soon after. “Were you in a study group, or something?”

“No,” you jerk your thumb backwards towards the minuscule form of Jaehyun, who’s now busy wasting time and space playing something on his phone where you’d left him. Donghyuck’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s my classmate who never comes to class. I was just lending him my notes.”

“Oh, Jaehyun, yeah.” Donghyuck snaps his fingers. “We were classmates last semester. He never went to class either, but I don’t know who he mooched off of to pass. You guys close?”

“Not really. I just fell into the trap of being too nice to him.”

“It’s funny,” he hums, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Jaehyun seems more your speed. On paper, at least.”

You can’t help but look taken aback, and Donghyuck laughs at your expression. “What do you mean, my speed?”

“Not sure.” He pauses, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “Someone who’d fit more into your social circles. Someone who probably likes Formula One and considers men’s health magazines to be classic literature.”

“That’s your impression of my social circle?”

“You know what I mean. People like Jung Jaehyun or Seo Youngho. I literally thought you were dating him last semester, so it was totally crazy to hear you asked Mark out.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Like… you asked him out. Not even the other way around. That’s ridiculous.”

“Why?” You know he doesn’t mean anything bad by it; Donghyuck has next to no filter, and something about him being unable to process your relationship is honestly a little funny. “A girl can’t ask a guy out?”

(You try not to think too hard about the fact that up until you’d cornered him in Youngho’s room, you had been praying to whatever god could hear you to convince Mark Lee to do the romanticist thing and ask you out.)

“Nah, dude. Like… a girl like you asked a guy like him out.”

“I didn’t ask him out because he was a guy like that,” you say pointedly. “I asked him out because he was a guy I liked. I wouldn’t have asked anyone else out if it weren’t him.”

Donghyuck falls quiet for a while, and only the crunching of the leaves underfoot accompanies your walk. “You really like him that much, huh?”

“I’m crazy about him.” His nose scrunches up like he’s been hit with a horrible smell, and you laugh. “Can you stop giving him a hard time? Or tone it down? I know you probably don’t like it—”

Donghyuck’s chuckle is light and easy. “I’m not teasing him because I hate it; let’s be clear on that. I actually really like that you guys are together. I’ve never seen him this happy with anything or anyone.”

“Then why are you—”

“Because he’s Mark.” A devilish grin creeps up his features as he holds the door to the dorm lobby open for you. “And teasing him is my favorite thing to do.”

You shake your head; you can’t help your amusement, but you’re not sure you fully understand this kind of friendship. You suppose if Mark is okay with it in its totality, then there isn’t much you can say to change it either.

The next twenty minutes pass in comfortable back-and-forths; Donghyuck is, as you already have learned, an expert conversationalist, and while he doesn’t aggravate you the way he does Chenle, he does manage to navigate a quick-fire kind of exchange of thoughts and information that allows you to see the speed at which he thinks. There’s barely any lag between when he digests what you say and when he responds. You suppose there’s a measure of wit in that, but it’s also a little bemusing to see someone speak without at least running it through the conscience checker every once in a while. You decide you’ve never met anyone quite like Lee Donghyuck before.

He’s in the middle of asking you what the Anthropology professor is like because he’s planning on taking it as an elective if he can when you notice a familiar figure pushing into the lobby, backpack swinging on a folded elbow.

“Mark!” The brief confusion on his face morphs into a surprised joy when he spots you on the couch, even though a bit of it lingers upon recognizing that Donghyuck is seated next to you. He walks over in long strides, and your posture straightens to meet his palm as it comes down gently against the crown of your head again; it bumps lightly, causing the both of you to laugh.

“Hey, you.” His voice is warm and fond in its greeting, and you beam up at him. “Did you have a busy afternoon?”

“Unfortunately. Did you just get back from your shift?”

“I passed by the co-op to check out the new university letter jackets. Design’s pretty dope.” He nods towards the elevator. “You wanna head up for a little bit?” You almost get to respond before your companion cuts in instead.

“Hey. Can’t you see we’re having a riveting conversation over here?” Donghyuck sniffs, making a show of hitting Mark’s shin lightly with the heel of his shoe. “Have some respect.”

“Is the conversation so riveting that I can’t take my girl for the evening at all?”

You mouth out a no, but Donghyuck’s flair for dramatics has him humphing and shoving Mark’s hand away from your hair. “Yeah, man. At least let us finish up.”

“What’s this even about?”

“How Jung Jaehyun asked her out in the library today,” Donghyuck replies easily. You start, shaking your head immediately, but Mark’s jaw slackens a little upon hearing this. Donghyuck continues loudly over your protests, and you can’t keep your voice straight because you’re adamant and yet, somehow, still laughing incredulously in your shock. “Oh, dude, let me tell you. He had his arm around her like this — and he was giving her the bedroom eyes… I wouldn’t have blamed her if she folded, honestly.”

“Mark, no,” your stupid gasp comes out as half a giggle as a result of Donghyuck trying to reenact his imaginary scenario. He’s slung his arm across your shoulders and pulled himself in, doing his best expression of a pleading dog’s gaze, which is both perplexing and hilarious. “He’s just kidding—”

“Then he got all close like this—” Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, and the view he allows himself blocks him from having to look at Mark. You, on the other hand, are still trying to resist a misunderstanding, your palms up and every part of your body that can move shaking vehemently, but you can see Mark’s face turn a violent shade of red you can’t remember having seen from him before. “Spoke all low — you remember he had that sexy, husky voice, right? ”

“He’s just messing with you,” you wheeze out, trying to extract yourself from Donghyuck’s hold, but he only tightens his arm around your neck, almost to the point where you can’t inhale properly.

“And he said ‘you’re the hottest chick I’ve ever seen—’ then you know what he did, Markie?”

Mark doesn’t respond; you’re not even sure if he can, considering his Adam’s apple is bobbing dangerously like he’s one misstep away from exploding. You laugh again, stupidly, because you don’t know what else to do; you know Donghyuck’s teasing him, and you know Mark usually takes it in stride, but you’ve also never seen the latter look so focused on anything that didn’t involve a math problem or eating you out. “No, really, nothing hap—”

You don’t even have the space to finish your sentence. Donghyuck’s too quick when he grabs your face and plants a comedically sloppy kiss on your cheek, bursting out in laughter when he pulls away. You can only sit there, probably as stunned as Mark looks, raising your hand slowly to wipe the spittle Donghyuck left behind in his wake.

“Oh, Jesus,” Donghyuck rasps out between snorts. “Your face is priceless, man.”

“Not funny,” Mark grumbles, and there’s a hoarseness to his voice that makes you feel like it’s barely controlled.

“Also not true. I just bumped into her on the way from the library. We were talking about one of her classes or whatever.” Donghyuck dramatically wipes the tears from his eyes, and you sigh, nudging him. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist. Man, don’t even worry. She’s downright crazy about you. Even if Jung Jaehyun had asked her out—”

“Anyway.” Mark reaches down, lacing your fingers together, pulling you up and closer to his side like he’s worried you’ll catch Donghyuck’s crazy. “If that’s all of it…”

“Yeah, yeah. You two lovebirds go moon over each other already. I just love seeing your face like that.”

Mark snorts, yanking on Donghyuck’s earlobe punitively, and the latter cries out sharply (and a little exaggeratedly) at the pain. Mark doesn’t even seem to care; he leads you to the elevator and punches in his floor. You barely have time to call out a belated ‘bye’ to Donghyuck, who acknowledges it with a raise of his palm, before the doors slide shut.

It’s a slow elevator, given that it’s an old building, and the first couple of floors pass without much noise between the two of you. You’re not unaware of how tight Mark’s grip is on your hand, but you don’t comment nor take it against him. By the fourth floor, you’re raising his hand up to your lips and pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

“Nothing happened.” You confirm his unasked question, and you see a modicum of tension leave his shoulders. “He was just messing with you because he thinks it’s funny.”

“Yeah, I know.” Even if he says it like that, there’s still lingering doubt in his voice. “Were you with Jung Jaehyun today, though? Is that why you didn’t show up?”

You nod. “He was copying my notes for Anthropology. Guy barely shows up to lectures, so he borrows my stuff. I can’t believe he hasn’t been suspended yet. Or punched in the face by the people he leeches off of.”

“No kidding.”

You step out on the sixth floor with him. Even if you already know where Mark’s dorm is, you let him lead the way, and he ushers you into an empty and dimly lit living space while taking his shoes off. His roommate barely seems to be around; you’ve seen him all of two times, and it doesn’t look like he’s here either right now. You pause anyway, listening to any signs of life just to be sure, but when you both confirm that there’s no one but the two of you, you busy yourselves with turning on the lights and plugging in the water dispenser.

You work in relative silence; it isn’t anything unusual since you’ve done this a million times, and you’ve come to learn that small talk isn’t necessary when you’re just washing your hands or opening the refrigerator aimlessly even if you know you both plan on ordering in. But there’s a weird aura around Mark that you’re not sure how to place; he doesn’t seem like he’s mad, but there definitely seems to be something off — a problem, at least, that you’re not sure you know how to ask about.

So you just try to diffuse whatever it is by completely ignoring it.

“Pizza or Chinese?” You ask, flopping onto the couch as he plugs the television into the outlet. He looks up at you, and you notice his eyes are slightly dazed, like you’ve just woken him up from a dream. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse the first time he says it, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, sorry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“We just had pizza, so I’m thinking Chinese is the better option. Cream shrimp? Fried rice? Not the salted fish one, though, maybe.”

You hum in assent, but when he straightens up from behind the television, you extend your arm to him, attempting to clarify yourself. “I mean, what are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing.” His answer’s a little too quick. A moment of awkward silence passes where you telepathically tell him you know he’s lying and he has to come to terms with his horrible lying skills, and he sighs, crossing over to the couch and settling beside you. Immediately, he tangles your fingers together, belatedly returning the favor from the elevator and brushing his lips across your knuckles. “He didn’t ask you out, right?”

You know he knows the truth, so you decide to bat your own question back at him in an attempt at rhetoric. “What would it matter if he did? The answer would have been the same, real or imagined.”

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. There’s a red flush on his neck that’s only started fading, it seems. You reach out and skim your finger along the vein that runs down the side of his throat. “I know. I don’t like it all the same. I hate… even thinking about it, actually.”

“Really — nothing happened. If you don’t count the fact that I almost strangled him for keeping me there — which I’m sure you’d agree doesn’t count as anything in favor of him.”

“I heard Jung Jaehyun’s kind of a playboy.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” His head lolls to the side, and his eyes hold a sadness that pulls at your heart. “It means he really could have made a pass at you. Or you could have — I don’t know. In the end… I just worry.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Your lower lip juts out, and his eyes widen slightly, his head shaking before his mouth can even work out a proper response.

“No — I mean, yes, absolutely. It’s — I mean, it’s just—” He inhales again to gather his wits, two fingers still rubbing his forehead. “I trust you, without a doubt. I don’t trust other people — not around you. Not Jaehyun, or Youngho, or—”

“Or Donghyuck?” You smile a little apologetically at his embarrassment, clear on his face when his eyes stray from yours. “Mark, you know he’s only messing with you, right? I thought it was a funny thing for you guys.”

“It’s not funny if it’s about you,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He looks up at you again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I know. I’m trying to control it. Sometimes… I don’t know why it gets under my skin. I guess it’s because it could happen — you… finding someone else. I kind of hate the thought of that.”

“And if I said I hate it even more than you?”

His gaze softens, something like relief passing over his features, but the rest of his body still holds a significant amount of tension; you know by the way he’s running agitated circles on the back of your hand. You gently tug on his arm, allowing yourself to use it as an anchor to shift your weight. Mark makes a soft noise of inquiry but says nothing more, waiting until you’ve maneuvered your body to settle on his lap.

The view is reminiscent, and you can see that the core memory you share flashes through his mind too. A small smile, still somewhat reluctant, plays on Mark’s lips, and you hate that it’s all you get right now, so you rectify this by leaning down and leaving a small, chaste kiss on them. You pull away much too soon, and his head follows in response to the distance, chasing your lips until you’re realistically too far to reach. His arm extends instead, swiftly tucking your hair behind your ear.

Your fingers close around his wrist, and your head turns, continuing the kiss against his palm — short and firm.

“Stop doing that.”

His eyebrows fly upward in questioning, his other hand freezing in its trail up your thighs. Even his breath seems to catch, and what’s left of it comes out as a raspy whisper. “Stop being jealous? I’m… I’m trying.”

You shake your head. “Stop being sexy when you’re jealous.”

The ‘what’ he seems to want to ask dies in his throat, his mouth only able to form half of the word before you interrupt, your lips taking in the rest of the syllable. When you kiss him this time, there’s a slow hunger to it; your teeth find his lower lip even before he’s able to get into the rhythm of kissing you back. You just want him to know — everything about him drives you wild, even when he doesn’t know it.

You’ll never grow sick of the taste of him, you’re sure; today, he tastes even more enticing, the hint of something rich mixing in with the stronger flavor of coffee on his tongue. It’s familiar and comforting, and it’s only when you break away, both your faces flushed from a prolonged lack of air, that you puzzle out what the taste is — the lingering aftermath of a vanilla sweet cream cold brew, one he must have prepared in anticipation of you this afternoon.

You briefly squeeze your eyes shut and thank whoever’s listening for the gift of Mark Lee.

“Mark,” your murmur, your voice much softer, intent on coaxing him into releasing his worries. “You know, right?”

His ‘hm’ is only half-there in focus, the rest of his attention on his hands, which have found their way to your ass and have started digging his fingers into the flesh beyond your jeans. You have to tilt his head up with one finger under his chin, and there’s a whirlpool of emotion in them: curiosity, desire, and, interestingly, a quiet, almost suppressed kind of anger.

“If it isn’t you,” you whisper. “Then there’s nobody else.”

You see his jaw tighten, feel his grip against you do the same, and his brow furrows, like he’s trying — much too hard, and for no good reason — to stop himself from tipping over. You don’t like that either; if he’s there, you think, you should take him over the edge.

“But if you want them to know so badly, then…” You tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, bringing the expanse just a little closer to his mouth. “Why don’t you go ahead and put your claim on me?”

You swear you see his pupils dilate right before he presses his mouth to your skin. With a low, almost pained groan against your neck, he latches his teeth in lightly, and you feel the soft sting, the increase in pressure the moment he starts sucking a mark just above your collarbone. There’s a wet, messy pattern to his movements, always punctuated by the sweep of his tongue to soothe your flesh. Even with that, his movements are slow and careful, still gentle in the way he’s handling you, but you feel it anyway — all of his tension’s concentrated in his grip, the way he keeps you close, hips pinned against him as if he’s worried anything less will cause you to disappear.

“Every time you worry, remember you can do this.” You pause, your breath catching in a lilt as his teeth dig in a little more fiercely. “You’re the only one that can.”

His lips detach with a soft groan, fingers squeezing your ass tight for a moment. Warm breath cools against the damp patch on your neck, and a second later, you feel his mouth graze against the few inches of skin, sensitive and slightly raw. “I know. It’s just not fair.”

You hum in questioning, but he doesn’t answer immediately; his mouth busies itself just under the mark he’d surely left, already starting up the same routine. You’d let him, and you want him to, but you want to hear his voice more. Your fingers tangle into his hair, and you use that hold to ease his head back, urging him to look up at you. It’s almost a mistake, seeing him like that — lips slightly swollen and definitely slick with his own saliva, parted just a little to reveal teeth he’d been desperate to nip your flesh with again. It crosses your mind that Mark has a mouth made for kissing — no, that isn’t accurate.

A mouth made for you to kiss.

“What’s not fair?” You ask softly. Even now, he takes his time in answering, his eyes falling close for a second; you watch him swallow, lick his lips, breathe in before he speaks, and all of those mundane things he does somehow make you lose your mind all the more.

“How badly I keep wanting you,” he breathes out, his eyes slowly opening. “And how it makes me think everyone wants you just as much.”

His hands leave the curve of your ass, traveling up your shirt, resting against your sides. He holds you like he’s careful in trying not to break you, his fingers spread wide to make sure his thumbs almost meet against your stomach, but there’s a smoldering headiness in his gaze that tells you he’s thinking a little too hard about wanting to break you.

“I touch you like this, and I think that everyone would kill to do the same.” His fingers squeeze against your flesh, inching upwards until they rest just under your breasts; his thumbs stroke the curved underline of your bra. “I think about kissing you and it feels like everyone’s thinking it at the exact same time. I look at someone next to you, even if you don’t know them, and I wonder if they want to pull you close, if they want to feel you against them just as much as I do. When I—”

He inhales sharply between his words, and the exhale comes out somewhat shaky. For a moment, he grits his teeth, jaw flexing in an attempt to keep himself in check. You worry he doesn’t want to continue — doesn’t want to let you hear it, but it feels so important that you can’t let it go. “Tell me.”

“When I think about fucking you,” he breathes out, voice barely audible. “Whenever I look at you and think about how much I want to feel you around me, feel you cum around me… I just know everyone else wants the same thing, and it’s driving me crazy because… because they can’t.”

It’s there again, flashing in his eyes — a determination that reads almost like fury.

“They can’t,” he repeats, his voice firmer. “I won’t ever let them. Never.”

You don’t stop him this time when his mouth reclaims your skin. You let his thoughts fuel the need in his movements, allow yourself to move only in reaction to what he does — the tilting of your head to give him more room, the tightening of your fists against his shirt to keep yourself steady. A surprised mewl leaves you when you feel his teeth pinch against your flesh again, and it’s harder, sharper this time, his quiet anger finally dictating his strength. You grapple for words, but they come out in weak gasps.

“It doesn��t — doesn’t matter,” you manage to whimper out. “How many people think that way, how much they want me that way. I only ever want you.”

His breathing is caught, warm, in the pocket of space just between you and his mouth; it tingles against your skin, tickles your senses into heightening. Your fingers unfurl, pressing against his chest, and you can feel his quickened heartbeat thrumming under your palm.

“God, please,” he murmurs, the soft peck of a kiss landing against your collarbone. “Please, tell me.”

“Mark, I’m yours.” There’s no teasing in how you say it; it was never meant to rile him up. It even escapes sweetness, the romanticism it usually comes with when you remind him on any other occasion. This is a promise to him, something you’re reinforcing as fact, something that can’t ever change. “I’m always going to be yours — no one else’s. I’ll never let anyone have anything that’s yours. Ask anything, take everything you want. I’ll never say no to you. Only you — always you.”

You know something’s different in a number of ways; his arms circle around you, but instead of keeping you firm and stable in his lap, they’re tight, squeezing a whine out of you, holding your torso flush against his. His face never leaves the crook of your neck, but you hear — feel — something there — a soft growl of need, of frustration that begs release. Suddenly, you find yourself off the couch; you barely have the presence of mind to wrap your arms around his neck and tighten your thighs against his sides before he’s carrying you to his room, kicking the door open and letting the rebound of the impact against his wall slam it shut behind him.

You’ve been in Mark’s room before, so there’s absolutely no need for you to take in the scenery when he sets you down on his bed. It doesn’t matter anyway, even if this were your first time; Mark’s crawling over you, his face flush and eyes sharp with hunger, and he looks so enticing that you wouldn’t want to pay attention to anything else around you anyway. His limbs cage you in, arms on either side of your shoulders and his knees just by your thighs, and you don’t really know why he’s already panting, but it just makes you want him all the more.

“Never,” he groans out, leaning down to nose against the patch of skin his mouth had worked on. “I’m never going to let anyone take you, ever. You’re all mine.”

His name fades on your lips, carried away by a moan when his mouth reattaches itself to your neck; it moves, almost frenzied, to renew the mark he’d left, make it a deeper red, a slightly bruised purple. You’re usually careful not to do anything that will require any attention or cover-up after, but Mark seems a little too far gone to care, and you realize you like him best this way.

Even with all the attention he gives your neck, his fingers are busy; they work on the button of your jeans, sliding them down with the help you offer by raising your hips. They only reach halfway down your thighs, his reluctance to come back up for air stopping him from peeling them off completely, but it’s all he seems to need for now.

Eager fingers ease between your thighs, two at once, pressing against your folds. You’re unable to spread your legs like you usually do, but this tightness makes you all the more sensitive, and you keen as his digits fit themselves into your slit. Frustratingly, they don’t move right away, and you have to raise your hips again just to get some sort of friction. Even then, Mark doesn’t take the hint — or, perhaps, the bait — keeping a light pressure against your clit without doing anything else. His focus is still on your neck, now slightly aching under his lips, and when he finally pulls away, you see a look of triumph on his face. He tilts his head back slightly to admire his work — the blooming dark patch you’re sure he’s left where your skin tingles the most.

“If I said I wanted to mark you all over, would you let me?”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t ask for it?”

He chuckles, tightening the pressure of his fingers against your clit; you say something that sounds halfway between ‘Mark’ and a sob.

“I want to, so badly.” He admits, gaze still fixed on your neck. “I’d want to see you walk out of here, walk into class covered in them. I’d want people to ask you how you got them, and who gave them to you. And I’d want you to say it proudly — that it was me who did it. That I fucked you all night and made you mine over and over again.”

“Why don’t you?” His eyes snap up to you, a small smile forming on his lips. “I want to say that too. Let me brag about having you. Let me tell everyone how good you always make me feel. Then you can tell everyone who doesn’t believe you, too — how I let you take me every single time. Show me off and tell them to look at how you made me yours.”

Another laugh escapes him, but there’s more disbelief than humor in it; he seems to find it amazing, that you can just agree with what he says, no matter how strange he thinks it is.

“Show you off? If I mark you in other places, do I have to show them every part?”

“Do you not want to?”

“I want to, and I don’t.” He pauses, slightly amused, and you know he’s remembering the first time you fucked. “I don’t them to see your body, but I want them to see what I did to it. I don’t want them to look at what’s mine, but I just want them to know it is.”

“Then you can fuck me in front of everyone and make them watch you ruin me completely.”

He shakes his head, even if desire flashes clear across his features. He busies himself with actions while he mulls it over, tugging your jeans down alongside your panties and casting them aside before he straightens up. His eyes rake over your form; you’re bare from the waist down, your shirt halfway ridden up, the underside of your bra peeking out from under the hem. Again, his eyes land on your neck, and his smile widens slightly.

“Can’t.” He decides finally. “You’re too pretty for that.”

You hum thoughtfully, and he raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t move, even when you sit up, shifting yourself so you can tuck your calves under your thighs — not even when you reach out to undo his belt or tug down his zipper. He only reacts a little when your hand presses against his hardness through his boxers, the girth now easily familiar to your palm.

“What about something like this?” You ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed. You’ve started slow strokes against him, the fabric creating extra friction, more heat under your palm, and you watch his jaw clench as he swallows back a soft grunt. “Would you let them watch me do this for you?”

“Let me think about it,” he chuckles softly, and you nod, letting your fingers work to make your point. You don’t have to undress him completely to get what you want; all you need is to tug down the front of his boxers to free him, and you already have him wrapped in your palms, stroking his shaft to full hardness.

“Think faster,” you urge, and he shakes his head, slightly bemused. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t even want them to watch me jerk you off?”

“At least give me a full minute.”

You laugh lightly, whispering a ‘fine’ before you press a soft kiss against tip. He inhales sharp through his teeth, already sensitive, and you waste no time in letting your tongue flick out against the smooth head. He doesn’t need the lubrication, realistically; his precum’s already leaking from the tip, mixing in with your saliva as you run your tongue around it. All you do is make him a little messier, a little slicker, your spittle running down his length.

Taking Mark in your mouth is a demanding task, but one you’re always up for; there’s something uniquely satisfying about letting him fill your mouth, inch by inch, and watching his breathing hitch and stutter until your lips are closer to the base than to the head. What you can’t reach, your hand always squeezes around, eager to make sure he feels good completely. His expression is sublime when you draw your head back the first time, sucking as you do so — his eyes are half-lidded, and he doesn’t stop the moan that falls from his lips. His gaze is fixed on you, hazy but still able to drink the sight of you in, and you’re not sure how, but you almost feel like you could get off to watching him watch you taste him.

You try, somehow, vaguely conscious of the movement of your hips; you’re grinding at nothing at first, so your knees give way just enough for you to press yourself against his sheets. It’s slightly uncomfortable, a strain in your thighs that you’re not really used to, but you don’t care; Mark’s sharp inhale at seeing you attempt to grind your pussy against his mattress is pretty much as arousing as anything else. His cock twitches hard in your mouth, and you suck just a little harder, a little messier, your head bobbing down to meet your hand, still firmly wrapped around his girth.

The room’s filled with nothing but slick sounds and soft groans; Mark’s hand has found its way into your hair, tangled into a makeshift ponytail, and while he isn’t guiding your mouth to do anything, you can feel his hips stutter then start to move, pulling back when your head does. He tries to hide it, tries to keep himself steady, but pride blooms in your chest when you note that he can’t; he wants to feel like he’s fucking into your mouth, into your hand, the way he does when he takes your pussy.

It’s relatively quiet for that time, nothing but muffled moans from you that mix in with his noises, but you only realize you’d been waiting for an answer to something when he speaks up again.

“It’s… still a no for me.”

Your movements slow, your gaze lifting to communicate your mild confusion to him. You don’t want to ask; you just don’t want to lose the taste of him on your tongue just yet. He looks down at you, smiling with overflowing tenderness, almost like he’s apologetic.

“Even just this — you’re too pretty when you do it.” His hand reaches down, thumb stroking over your cheek. “I can’t let anyone see what you look like when you’re like this. They’ll keep thinking about you doing it for them. And you’d only do it for me — right?”

You nod immediately, your response causing your mouth to slip down his shaft just a little more. It elicits a guttural noise from him, one that fuels you into sucking him just a little harder, your enthusiasm overtaking your restraint. His fingers have let go of your hair, stroking it back into smoothness, almost comforting in their movements.

“God, I wish you could see yourself; you’d know what I mean,” he continues to murmur, his voice just a little louder over the eager, wet noises you’re making. “How pretty you look with your mouth wrapped around me. How perfect you are when you’re kneeling like this for me — how happy you look when you’re sucking me off. I can’t share that with anyone. Fuck — not ever.”

Your mouth draws back, completely this time, and your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. You lick a long stripe up his shaft, moaning softly at the light throb you feel, and you watch him tip his head back. The groan that follows soon after is almost close to a frustrated growl, ending in a whispered ‘shit’ before his eyes land back on you. He watches you press kiss after kiss against his tip, coaxing the precum out even more, and you take special care to leave more down each inch of his cock until you’re finally able to release your hold on his base so you can leave the last one there.

His hand combs your hair back before it falls to cup your chin, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to gently clean up the froth of spittle there. You smile up at him in thanks, and his thumb sweeps over the seam of your lips to follow the slight curve.

“So pretty,” he repeats, and your cheeks glow pink under the palms that caress them. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Pretty as hell, fucking perfect — and you’re all mine.”

You kneel up again, chasing his lips with your own, and he locks you in his arms as his tongue slips its way past your teeth, the aroma of coffee still on it. He leaves today’s taste of him against your tongue, on the ridges of your teeth, until you feel like you’ve all but consumed him, and you whimper softly when he pulls away, urging you to turn around and lean back into his chest.

His mouth reattaches itself to the same spot; it’s like a home base for him, and he breathes in your scent from there before giving the same patch of skin a light suck, almost as if he’s worried it’ll fade in a few minutes’ time if he doesn’t give it attention.

“Show me.” Hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them lightly, like a prompt for your response. “Show me how pretty you are for me.”

His palms never leave you, not even when you detach yourself from his chest and bend down; your elbows meet the mattress, but your hips stay raised, giving him a view of your pussy. Your gasp easily turns into a moan when his digit dips into your wetness again, his other hand pushing gently at your asscheek to keep you open.

You think he’s about to slip his finger in, the tip brushing against your entrance, and you tense in anticipation, but it doesn’t happen; he continues to run his finger down your slit, careful not to linger against your clit for too long. The result is that you tighten around nothing, and you hear him suck in a breath as he watches your hole grow smaller for a second. You laugh breathily, resting your chin against the backs of your hands, one folded atop the other. “Pretty enough for you to fuck?”

“Do you have to ask if you already know?”

“I want to hear it anyway.”

His finger slips into your hole, finally, and you keen softly as he breaches the first ring of tightness. He doesn’t really move it, just tests your tightness, feels you contract around him as if to know what his cock will feel in a few moments.

“Your pussy’s too pretty not to fuck,” he manages out, and his throat sounds as tight as you feel. “Seeing it like this… makes me think there’s no way anyone can resist. It’s exactly why I can’t let anyone see you like this.”

You hum as his finger presses in deeper, and you know it’s nothing in comparison to the real thing, but you like feeling that mild stretch, the depth it reaches all the same. “How should we let them know, then? That I’m all yours.”

His finger stills, and you hum softly, swaying your hips to shake him out of whatever trance he’s in. He’s grown quiet, but there’s a thoughtfulness in this pause, like he’s seriously considering your question. You laugh lightly, ready to tell him you’re just egging him on until he fucks you, but he slips his finger out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing again. You can’t help the confused noise that comes out of you, but you at least know he isn’t completely backing away, his other hand still firmly on your ass.

“Mark, what—”

You get your answer in the thud that interrupts your question — he’s tossed his phone onto the bed, having it land next to you. Something in your blood runs hot, and your fingers tremble when you pick it up. You see yourself reflected in the blackened screen — excitement in your eyes, your lips glossy from your blowjob.

Mark’s silent as you let the meaning of his actions settle; wordlessly, he slips his finger into you again, followed by another one this time, and you shudder in pleasure at the difference in the stretch. He doesn’t ask, but you can tell he’s wondering if he’s gone too far— if you think he’s crazy. He lets his fingers stay anchored in you, unmoving, waiting for you to say something, but from where he is, he just can’t know the smile that passes your face.

Finally, he tries to speak up. “We don’t have to— I just meant—”

“What’s your passcode?”

He breathes out, the exhale quivering as much as you probably are. “Your birthday.”

Your smile only widens when you tap the screen to life and see a picture of you — you don’t even remember when he’d taken it, but it’s a shot of you sprawled on his bed, bundled in his blanket and reading something that looks oddly like your textbook for your European Renaissance History class. It’s grainy and dimly lit, a stolen photograph of you, but it makes your heart swell, and you laugh lightly as you key in your birthday; the screen unlocks, allowing you access to all his applications.

“What’s funny?”

“Just thinking about how you should replace this wallpaper.”

“To what?” He sounds bemused.

“The view of me you have now.”

His fingers curl in you, pressing down against your walls, and you push your hips back in a bid for more friction; you hear him hiss out a ‘fuck’ under his breath, and his hand digs harder into the flesh of your ass.

You open Mark’s contacts, scrolling down aimlessly. Most of the names, you don’t recognize, but you see a few familiar ones crop up here and there. He doesn’t ask, only starts pumping his fingers into you in quiet anticipation, wondering how far you’re willing to take it, how much you’ve bought into this crazy idea.

“Mark,” you call out, and he hums in response. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life.”

“So if I called Donghyuck right now—” His fingers hook into you, the delicious pressure on your walls making you squeak instead of finish your sentence immediately. You twist your torso to meet his eyes, and you’re slightly surprised but not at all displeased to see something crazed lingering in his gaze. “How much of a show would you want to put on for him?”

He shifts his weight, his knee sinking into the mattress as he slots it between your legs. This change in position allows him to angle his fingers a little differently, driving down into you with a force that makes you squirm. You almost forget you’ve asked him something again until he leans in closer, his murmur almost drowned out by the slick sounds of his finger pressing into your hole.

“Just… enough for him to know you’ve always been mine.”

Your thumbs are shaking when you scroll through his contacts again, up and down until you find the right name — Lee Donghyuck — and Mark watches you intently, wordlessly, as you press his number, start the call, and put it on speaker.

The wait feels like an eternity, with Mark’s finger slipping in and out of you in a steady, languid pace as you watch the line connect, but in reality, Donghyuck really only answers after the fourth ring. “Yo, Mark.”

His voice is casual, lacking in any sort of expectation; you can hear explosions and gunshots in the background, and you’re willing to bet he’s in the middle of an action movie. You’re proven right when you hear random English babbling soon after.

“Hi, Hyuck.”

“___________?” He sounds genuinely confused that it’s you that greets him. “Where’s Mark? You okay?”

“He’s right here with me; don’t worry.” Your voice is a soft croon, and he has to lower the volume of the television to be able to hear you better. “We’re totally fine. What are you up to?”

“Watching Resident Evil. Uh, is there a reason you called?”

You want to draw out the lie of something casual for as long as you can, but Mark doesn’t let you. His fingers push, suddenly forceful, into you, and you let out a soft cry into the receiver. You look back at him, eyes wide with amusement, and he shrugs, having at least enough sense to look slightly abashed at his experiment.

One moment, you’re listening to a female voice shout something, and the next, Donghyuck’s side of the call is silent except for his breathing. When you don’t bother explaining what had just happened, he takes matters into his own hands.

“Hello?”

He sounds equal parts affronted and amused, like the shock of it has tickled him. You can’t help it; you laugh too, but it’s quickly cut off by another whine when Mark pulls his fingers out. Donghyuck makes an incredulous noise.

“Now, what the fuck is all this about, you freaks?”

“You kept wondering why I ended up asking Mark out,” you evade his question with another one. “Should I tell you why, if you’re that curious?”

“No way. Have fun, weirdos,” he laughs, and the line goes dead a second after.

You snort out a laugh, and Mark mumbles something that sounds vaguely like that was crazy before he leans down and presses a kiss to the small of your back. You make to turn so you can finally face him, but you’re distracted when his phone screen lights up again, and Donghyuck’s name flashes across it.

You exchange amused glances before you pick up the call, and you don’t even get a ‘hello’ out when his voice rings out, sharp and clear.

“But pretending I am,” he says, as though he hadn’t hung up the call a few seconds ago. “Exactly what kind of answer would I get?”

“The kind that’ll hopefully shut you up for good,” Mark pipes in instead of you.

“What’s that even going to sound like?” Already, Donghyuck’s activated whatever toggle in him that gets him to push Mark’s buttons. This time, though, you can’t say it works against you; you feel Mark inch closer to you, and a moment later, the fat tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. “I bet you can’t even get her to yawn, man.”

Mark doesn’t have to respond; you do it for him when he pushes in, torturously slow, as if to draw out your moan. It works a little too well, with you keening into the phone, and yet no part of you is acting for his sake. As familiar as the stretch is, it’s not something you’ve ever been able to commit to memory fully, and it feels like a new breaching of your tightness each time. Your legs fold in slightly, a useless movement that attempts to get you adjusted to his size faster, but Mark interprets it as discomfort, his hands tightening on your hips.

“You okay?” He sounds genuinely worried for a second, forgetting that Donghyuck’s still on the line. Your cheek brushes against his sheets as you nod, trying to meet his eye even in this position to let him know you’re being honest.

“Fucking big, Mark.” You hear Donghyuck tsk from his end, and you laugh breathlessly. “You don’t like knowing he’s big?”

“I just hate that fucker,” Donghyuck quips back easily, but there’s no seriousness in his voice. If anything, it sounds a little raspy, with him clearing his throat soon afterward.

“Well, I’m crazy about him,” you whisper into the call, and your breathing hitches as Mark finally bottoms out, groaning at your tightness. “I’m crazy about the way he touches me, the way he tastes. I’m crazy about how big his cock is, how deep it gets when he’s inside me, how he stretches me out — fuck—”

Your verbal rampage is cut short by a loud moan as Mark draws his hips back and pushes forcefully into you; you haven’t fully adjusted, and you’re even tighter now from what you’re saying, so the friction inside you is nothing short of delicious. He starts a pattern of thrusts, not bothering to build up from his usual slow and steady pace — hearing you talk that way and knowing that Donghyuck is listening is enough to get him to abandon self-imposed restrictions.

“Mark,” you whine out, accidentally pushing the phone a little further away as you reach out blindly for him behind you, and he catches your wrist to let you know he’s there. “Mark, fuck, it feels so good—”

You tighten around him as if to prove your words, and he growls in response. You find yourself having to press your cheek in a little harder into the mattress as he gathers your wrists together into one hand, pinning them to your lower back, and it’s with that hold on you that he leverages his thrusts, pumping into you a little harder each time.

You’re not completely unaware of your surroundings, but it takes a while for you to process the sounds coming from the phone’s speaker — labored breathing, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. You want to wonder if this is working a little too well, but nothing comes from your mouth apart from soft whimpers, and it’s all the cue Mark needs to be the one to fill in the relative silence himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, and you feel his lips press between your shoulder blades. It feels like a chaste kiss at first, but he leaves his breath there, still flitting over your skin as he continues to speak. “I’ll never get tired of how pretty you are — how pretty you always sound for me. Doesn’t she sound pretty, Hyuck?”

“Fucking pretty,” Donghyuck agrees, though his voice sounds somewhat distant. You can only sob back a quiet ‘fuck me, harder, harder,’ in response.

“Can you imagine how much prettier she looks under me?” It’s almost a full-blown conversation now, but even if Mark’s addressing Donghyuck, the rest of his attention’s fully on you. He adjusts his stance, still keeping his hold around your wrists as he angles himself deeper into you, causing you to cry out and squirm in pleasure. With your face pressed against the bed and his weight driving down into you, you feel utterly trapped, in the best kind of way. Mark, in the way he is now, is inescapable, almost incorrigible, and he pistons deeper into your pussy, his free hand brushing your hair away from your shoulder so he can leave a kiss against it. “Bent over, legs spread just a little, all for me to take. Pretty little hole wet for me, and so fucking tight. Can you imagine that?”

“I’m doing it right now.”

“It’s a thousand times better in person. Trust me.”

The same hand slips between your thighs, two fingers spreading your folds apart; the middle one circles your clit in a pace that matches his thrusts, sudden and shocking, and you arch your back upwards slightly with a choked noise. He finally releases your wrists, and you claw at the sheets helplessly to keep yourself somehow upright as the force of Mark’s hips, their impact against the backs of your thighs, pushes you forward, closer to the phone again. The stimulation is merciless, endless, and in the haze of your pleasure, you wonder if you should make Mark a little more jealous everyday if it gets him to act this way.

“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”

“Not yet,” he whispers, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as if to bring you back to reality. You shudder at the pain, the pleasure that accompanies it, and when you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, you notice that a few tears escape your eyes. “Hold out for me a bit, okay? Please. It’s not enough. Not yet enough.”

You wonder if ‘enough’ is a concept the both of you even understand when it comes to wanting each other; already, you feel desire pooling in your stomach, threatening to spill from you, and clenching around him isn’t helping you stop it the way your body seems to think it’s supposed to. It also doesn’t help that Mark’s fingers are relentless, one still drawing tight, heavy circles around your clit, and the other creeping up under your shirt to tug down the cup of your bra, letting a breast spill into his warm palm. He kneads with an unusual — but not unpleasant — roughness, and you squeak out incoherently as he tweaks at the hardened bud of your nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Hold on for me a little,” he continues murmuring, even after you shake your head and whisper ‘can’t’ to him over and over. “Do it for me. Tell Donghyuck — tell him how good it feels. How much you want to keep feeling me inside you.”

You don’t even know what to say; the pleasure that washes over you, the new kind of roughness that Mark exhibits has you drawing a blank, and you can only whine in a last attempt at protest, only for your tongue to start moving on autopilot, fueled by your want.

“It’s not enough,” you echo — and even if it feels like it is, even if it feels even more than you can possibly handle, something tells you that it’s true. “Not enough — need to feel you more, Mark. God, I want to feel you stretch me out, fuck my little hole into the shape of your cock— until no one else can fuck me but you—”

“What,” Donghyuck breathes out, his exhale coming across as static. “The fuck.”

You don’t have to explain; your babbling’s doing most of the work in that regard anyway, and you can tell by the wet, staccato noises on the other end that Donghyuck can easily piece together the scenario anyway. He’s jacking off to the both of you, something in your mind whispers, and the notion of that alone has you tightening around Mark’s cock. The change doesn’t go unnoticed, and his fingers sink deeper into your flesh; you cry out softly when you feel a jolt of pleasure as he gives your clit a sudden pinch.

“How much tighter can you get?” He sounds incredulous but also, interestingly, proud — there’s a smug tinge to his voice that arouses you even more. “Does it feel that good?”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out, the syllables quivering in your throat. “So good I’m going to lose my mind. Let me — God, please, let me—”

“Not yet,” Mark mumbles, and you whimper as he slows and slips out of you, his hand gently rubbing your folds in what feels like comfort — a small apology for his overt enthusiasm that you don’t even really need. “Just a little more. I need to see it.”

“See what?” Donghyuck’s voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse and pretty much muffled by the sound of his hand pumping his own shaft. Your head’s light, so your body moves on its own when Mark inches away slightly, giving you room to turn yourself around and lay on your back. You’ve barely even settled when he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him and easing your thighs apart to slot himself between your legs.

His cock weighs heavy, pressed up against your folds, and he pushes his hips in a superficial thrust to get them to spread. His eyes fall briefly on your swollen clit, the wetness that you left on his shaft, even more of it still leaking from your hole. When he looks back up at you, there’s something triumphant in his gaze.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he coos, so lovingly it’d be hard to imagine his cock still sliding against your folds if you couldn’t feel it yourself. “I’ll never get enough of your perfect pussy — so perfect that it was made to take me.”

“See what?” Donghyuck presses, an impatience now coloring his voice. Mark chuckles, nodding at you and mouthing silently. Tell him.

Your inhale’s shaky, quivering like the rest of your body, and you don’t ever break away from Mark’s gaze, even as you speak.

“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”

Donghyuck’s ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ is drowned out by your cry of need as Mark pushes back into you. There’s no lag time now, no wait for any kind of adjustment; he takes you in one motion, until you feel his hips hit the backs of your thighs again. Your walls flutter around him, unable to process his size fully, and all that comes out of you is a string of messy mewls that’s constantly interrupted by the wet sounds of his thrusts.

Your body feels almost weightless, the only thing you can understand being the feeling of his cock pumping into you, stretching you out further. You’re only able to shake yourself out of the reverie when you feel his hands push back against your thighs, folding you in half, before they crowd atop your stomach.

“God, I need to feel it,” he groans out, his palms skimming under your navel, searching. “Please — do it for me.”

Even with your brain muddled, you don’t even have to try to figure it out; you let him feel it every time he asks. You inhale, deep and slow, until your stomach sinks, and the walls of your stomach flatten against his cock, which pauses briefly in its movements as he revels in the newfound feeling.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, and you flush in pleasure, in satisfaction at his praise. “Love seeing my cock inside you.”

He adjusts himself before he starts pumping into you again, burying his shaft all the way to the hilt each time; each thrust is followed by a soft sob from you, and you reach out, planting your hands on top of his. You obviously can’t feel his cock under your palms, but you don’t have to anyway; the fit’s tight enough that it feels, ridiculously, like he’s fucking your whole body, like he’s pressing into the deepest part of your core. You just want him to feel it more — the movement of the bulge under his hands, the resistance it has to push through to get to your stomach.

“Love feeling me inside you,” he continues, and his breathing stutters then, signaling that he’s also barely hanging on. “Love seeing how pretty you look when I rearrange your insides.”

You mouth out a disbelieving ‘what the fuck’ that earns you a simple smile, but Mark’s unrelenting in his movements anyway, his palms completely covering your stomach.

“Dude, I wanna see it too,” Donghyuck reminds you both of his presence when his voice comes through the speaker. “Put her on video.”

“No way,” comes Mark’s swift, firm reply. Donghyuck makes a noise of protest. “This is just for me.”

“Selfish as hell, calling me without really sharing.”

“The point wasn’t really ever to share.”

Mark’s hands suddenly press down on your stomach, and you stifle a soft scream; the pressure increases tenfold, as does the tightness of the fit, his cock brushing against your walls in a way that makes you feel breathless — it makes you feel used. Your hands fly up, fingers locking behind his neck, and you squirm under him, knowing fully well that you can’t escape anyway — not that you really want to, anyway.

“Mark,” you warn him again, your voice thin and airy. “I can’t anymore — I really—”

“I got you,” he murmurs — something you’ve come to learn he always says, always wants to let you know. He’ll be here until you break, until you can’t take anymore. “One second, okay?”

“Bro, what? Are you serious—” Even Donghyuck sounds confused, although his voice is tight too; he must be close, your mind weakly registers, but it doesn’t matter. Mark, albeit reluctantly, slips one hand away from your stomach — for a good cause, he must think, and you learn what it is when he ends the call, effectively cutting off Donghyuck’s complaints. Your eyes widen in confusion, but all Mark’s gaze is to you is reassuring, gentle, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips before he answers your unspoken question.

“Can’t let him hear you cum,” he murmurs against your mouth. “That’s only for me, isn’t it?”

You nod, letting the movement of it brush your lips against his. “You’re the only one I’ll cum for — the only one that can make me.”

Above your head, his phone is trilling noisily; the vibrations course through your back, weak but persistent, and for some reason, it heightens your arousal all the more. Mark ignores it completely, single-mindedly focused on pistoning into you with the bulk of his strength. His hands push down just under your navel, increasing your awareness of the feeling of his cock, him fucking you, coaxing out your climax.

“Do it. Show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.”

You don’t think it’s possible for him to inject any more strength into his movements, but he proves you wrong time and time again; the wind’s knocked out of you as he braces himself and fucks you harder, sharper into the bed, and the only noises you can make are weak whimpers and choked sobs. Your mind’s so overrun with pleasure that your climax hits your body first before your mind fully parses it; your back arches again, and you mewl out something broken, something that sounds like his name as you come undone.

Mark still doesn’t relent, the tremble in your legs somehow only inspiring him to put more power in his thrusts. Even through the dazedness that comes with all the stimulation, you can see the fine details you’ve come to know so well — the tightness in his jaw, the growing flush across his collar, the quick heaving of his chest. He’s close too, so close he’s just holding himself back out of sheer force of will to make sure he can watch you come down from your climax completely. You don’t know why he has to, but you want to see him let go too, and you scramble for words, for more touch — pressing your thighs firm against his sides to keep him close, locked — just to get him there.

“Will you mark me up one last time?” You breathe out. He reacts almost instantaneously, moving to lean down and press his mouth against the still-untouched side of your neck, but your palm on his chest stops him from doing so. Surprise crosses his face, followed by slight confusion. You squeeze your thighs against him, trying to make your point, but even then, his brow furrows. “Mark me — inside.”

His eyes widen, and his hips stutter before they resume pace, his fingers digging into your stomach almost painfully as he tries to keep himself in control. “I— no, you know I can’t…”

“Do you want to?” You egg him on, your hand dropping from his chest to land on top of his again, adding to the pressure until you’re sure he can feel every small movement, every throb of his own cock inside you. “You can, you know — make me yours, from the inside out.”

“God — we can’t; you know we’d be in so much trouble.”

“But I’d let you anyway, if you wanted to. Do you ever think about it, Mark?” Your fingers toy with his, almost like you’re having a casual conversation instead of a situation in which he’s deep inside you, already aching for release. “Fucking your cum deep into me, letting it seep into my stomach — making sure no one else can fill me up?”

“Jesus,” he growls, and he reluctantly slips his hands out from under yours to grip your thighs. Realistically, he has enough strength to peel them away, have you release him, but his hold just tightens, not really making any motion to do so. You see the thought flash in his eyes, serious even just for a moment. He thinks about it all the time.

“Think about it,” you urge, your voice soft but close to a demand. “And every time you do, remember one day, you will — because you’re the only one that can.”

He tilts his head back, letting a growl rip from his throat, and he finally manages to push your thighs apart. You let him, let them fall apart so he can slip out of you. You watch him shift upwards, his knees on either side of your torso, and you’re met with the erotic sight of him fisting his cock in front of you, urging himself into completion. You do the only thing you can think of to help; you open your mouth wide, pushing your tongue out, silently asking for his load.

“Even when you do that, you’re fucking pretty,” he groans out, and his thumb presses his cock down, resting the underside flush against your tongue as he rocks his hips. “How much prettier are you going to look with my cum all over your face?”

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out, and you don’t have to respond; he gets the answer he wants with one last thrust against your tongue, and you close your eyes briefly, allowing yourself to drink in the taste, the smell of his cum as it streaks across your cheeks, all over your lips. You hear his release as it comes too — the soft rumble from his chest, the release of air that gently whistles through his teeth.

When you open your eyes again, Mark is looking down at you, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks and ears again; he’s breathless, panting as he comes down from his high. From the daze of his climax, a slightly sheepish look of apology crosses his face, and he reaches down, seemingly without any real plan, to clean you up, only to withdraw, slightly bemused, when you shake your head.

A laugh escapes him when you shimmy out from under him, straighten up, and extend your arms upward, puckering your lips in slight demand. You think he might reject you, but Mark doesn’t even hesitate longer than a second. He swoops down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, and your thighs press together tight as you enjoy the feeling of his tongue swiping away his cum from your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, sucking softly as if to clean you completely.

When he pulls away, his head dips into your shoulder; again, his face turns to press against the mark he’d left, and his teeth nip at the soft bruise that’s already begun to blossom. Satisfied by the soft noise you make at the sensitivity you feel from the contact, he breathes out, long and steady, against your skin.

“Just… can’t get enough of you,” he finally exhales, pressing another kiss to your neck; it’s gentler, situated just under your jaw.

“You don’t ever have to think about having enough,” you whisper, leaving a light nuzzle against his shoulder. “Just always think about having more.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, but he nods, accepting your offer anyway. A moment of silence passes, where you’re wrapped up in each other, his weight against you in a blanket of heat, and it stretches to what almost feels like an eternity — if not for the phone suddenly ringing again, Donghyuck’s name coming up on the ID. You both start, and Mark reaches over, fumbling with the sides of his device before he finds and toggles the silent switch.

“Seriously,” he grumbles, watching the call drop just for it to start up again, the screen flashing.

“We kind of left him hanging, to be fair.”

“No fairness.” Mark tosses the phone to the foot of the bed, where it lies, facedown and buzzing. “He got more than he deserved today.”

You watch him as he slips off the bed, rearranging himself before clipping his jeans button back into place. He whispers a gentle ‘be right back’ and exits the room, leaving the door only slightly ajar. You hear the water run in the bathroom, and a few moments later, Mark returns to your side, holding a damp towel.

He leaves a kiss after each light swipe across your face, as if to apologize for the pain he thinks he might be causing; you laugh, partly because it’s ridiculous, but mostly because you like it. He cleans your mouth last, even though there’s already nothing left, just so he has an excuse to leave a long, lasting kiss there.

You think it’s the last you’ll get for now, but he surprises you by bending down even further, hiking your shirt up your torso again. His hand rests on your thigh, keeping himself balanced as he presses a flutter of kisses around your navel, lingering at the exact spot that sits above where he knows his cock hits every time he bottoms out in you.

“One day,” he whispers into your skin before he looks up at you, his eyes shining. “I’ll really make you all mine.”

“Dummy.” Your voice is just as low, and you pull his head up again, enjoying the brush of his hair against your hand, the swoop of his jaw under your palm. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Every single day, considering I’ll never get tired of it.”

You hum, not one to deny him of what he asks anyway; you push him back onto his calves, climbing back onto his lap; it’s your favorite way to be near him, you decide, with almost nothing between you, almost everything of yours touching everything of his — like you fit in him perfectly. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling their soft rise and fall as his breathing steadies, and you squirm a bit, if only to make sure his arms are locked securely around you — to make sure he won’t let go. Just like that, in his arms, you say it again — a truth, a fact, and a promise.

“I already am.”

4K notes · View notes

xrenjunniesx · 15 days

Text

piggyback rides

bf!mark

word count : 488

you feet were growing beyond tired and sore but you couldn’t stop walking now. you and mark had been walking around for hours at this point, going to all kinds of stores and small events around the city. It’s been hours since you’ve sat down and you’re exhausted to say the least.

it was rather peaceful among these streets you walked along. the trees hung over the path, providing shade from the harsh sun.

you were beginning to walk slower, stomping your feet in order to keep yourself going otherwise you would stop and give up.

“you okay baby?”

“I’m so tired mark, my feet are killing me.”

he frowned, placing his hand on your back to provide some comfort as the two of you continued to walk.

“we’re so close to the restaurant but I can’t..” mark was suddenly in front of you, leaning down and reaching back to tap your hip.

“here, get on my back quickly.”

“what-“

“hurry up baby”

you cheeks burned up but you couldn’t deny the offer any longer. you quickly hopped onto his back, wrapping your legs around his waist. he held onto your legs before he stood up a bit straighter and began to walk as fast as he could down the street.

“this is embarrassing.” you whined, resting your head next to his. you hear his faint quiet laugh. he was clearly getting tired too, judging by his heavier breathing, but he continued to carry you.

“we can sit over there” he let go of your leg for a brief second to point towards a garden area that was in front of a grand building. it had a small bench that was surrounded by green plants and a few flowers.

“you can put me down now, I can walk there.”

you say, but he ignores your words and continues until he was right in front of the bench. he slowly lowers you until you stood on your own two feet. the both of you practically collapse onto the bench.

“I didn’t realise how tired I was until just now.” he said, breathing out heavily. you felt bad but you still giggled at him.

“thank you for carrying me” you say, turning so your body faced him. you placed a hand on his chest and smiled, “it was very kind of you, baby”

he laughed at your words, lifting his own hand up to where your hand was on his chest. he wrapped his hand around yours, holding it tightly.

“should we just call an uber and go home?” he suggests, looking at you for your approval. “didn’t you want to visit that restaurant though?” you say, but he shakes his head, “not anymore. I’m literally about to fall asleep on his bench. we’ve been out for way too long.”

you smile and take your phone out, getting a uber ready. “let’s go home and order take out.”

#nct dream #nct dream imagine #nct imagines #nct #nct dream imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct mark #mark lee imagines #mark imagine #mark imagines #mark lee

509 notes · View notes

ruwriteshours · 6 months

Text

✰ RUNNING AWAY AFTER CONFESSING TO THEM ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ OT7! DREAMIES

pairing: OT7! dreamies x fem!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, slight angst

warning: shaming reader for being a virgin, a whole lot of cliche, lots of hand grabbing and pulling lol, i got a little too carried away with Haechan & Jeno :p

@xrenjunniesx did smtg similar to this and i got inspired <3

✰ MARK.

"Mark, you have to give yourself a break." You advised, watching as he rubbed his face in exhaustion.

It's been five hours since Mark spent doing his song-writings in his room for his upcoming comeback. As much as you admired his hardwork, you also hated when he overworked himself.

As his best friend, you wanted him to get the rest he deserves but it was impossible for the stubborn boy to succumb to your wishes.

Oh, how much you love him.

Rolling over the bed as Mark continued to do his work on his desk, you begin walking over and snatching his pen mid-way while he was writing.

Mark let out a disgruntled grunt, hand reaching out to grab onto it but you only held it away further.

"Give it back, I still have tons to finish!"

"Not until you get some rest." You stuck your tongue out defiantly, "You've been working for hours, just come here and talk to me for awhile and then you can go back, please?"

Mark looked into your eyes for a moment before letting out a sigh of defeat.

"Fine."

And that's when the both of you find yourself laughing away from the stories you both shared from your childhood.

"Remember that time when you got braces and you were complaining that you couldn't eat meat." You laughed, "So you blended the chicken and started drinking it!"

"Oh man, it tasted horrible. I don't know why I did that." He cackled. "And I look so ugly in braces too!"

"That's not true." You disagreed, watching as he was wiping away a tear from his eye.

"If anything you looked cute." You mumbled, looking down at your feet. "I liked you back then too."

Shit! You didn't mean to say that!

"What was that?"

Fuck! You were screwed.

"Huh? Nothing." You backed away.

"I couldn't hear you just now. Tell me!" Mark pushed on, holding onto your arm to prevent you from retreating.

You pulled away from his grip.

"It's nothing!" You tried again, standing up onto your feet hastily.

"It's not nothing when you're literally red in the face." He said, making a move to stand up as well. "Come on, tell me. We promised not to keep secrets from each other."

"Just let it go, Mark." You groaned, hiding your embarassment.

"We're literally best friends, you have to tell me."

"That's literally the problem!" You snapped.

"What?" Mark paused, looking at you with wide eyes.

"I said you looked cute in braces because I like you back when we were kids." You pulled your hair in frustation, "And I still like you now! Okay? I have always like you more than a best friend!"

As soon as those words leave your mouth, you could feel the clockwork ticking slow, nibbling your bottom lip in nervousness as you watch Mark's face contort to confusion.

Anxiety arises when he begins to open his mouth, but you didn't let him say anything when you dashed out of the room and into the living room, ignoring his calls.

"Hey! Wait, where are you going?" His voice was nearer to you than you expect.

Just as you were about to open the front door, it was slammed shut when his palm made contact with it.

You mentally cursed Mark for his long legs, having that advantage to catch up to you. You could feel his hot breath at the back of your neck, you shuddered at the contact, refusing to turn around despite his body being much closer to you than it has ever gotten.

"Turn around," He demanded, your name escaping his mouth. His voice tickling your ears as you made the move to turn, eyes closed from the sheer shame of confessing to your best friend.

You could hear his chuckle, making you close your eyes even more tightly, if that was even possible. You were definitely sure that your face was redder than before, not having to expect the situation to unfold in the way it has.

"Open your eyes." He said softly.

However, he was greeted with a shake of the head from you, stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes.

He pouted, though you couldn't see as you were still having an internal battle with yourself.

Just then, an idea popped into Mark's mind, hand slowly reaching out to your neck, goosebumps filled in your body as he lifted your head higher. You were confused with his actions and just as you were about to ask him what he was doing, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss.

You let out a sound of suprise as you began to kiss him back on instinct, teeth clashing slightly as his warm lips moulded into yours with such intensity that you didn't want the moment to go away too soon.

Unfortunately, Mark pulled away, which caused you to open your eyes in disappointment.

However, just as you meet his eyes, you could see him smile smugly, face inches away from you.

"I guess you can open your eyes." He teased, which only made you more embarassed, looking away but you were immediately pulled back by his hands and was met with another surging kiss, which lasted longer than the previous one.

✰ RENJUN.

The thing about your friendship with Renjun was that the both of you provide equal balances when it came to taking care of each other. It was never one sided.

He was your emotional support and so were you to him. It was a solid friendship from the start, so it wasn't out of the usual for him to get extra protective whenever you would injure yourself during practice.

So you couldn't understand why you felt a sudden tinge of butterfly at the pit of your stomach this time when he carried you out of the practice room after you sprained your ankle.

In fact, it was such a normal occurence that even your friends didn't bat an eye. You ignored it, thinking that you were still skitterish and that the stupid feeling will eventually go away but the more Renjun took care of you, the more flustered you felt. Flushed faced and stuttering profusely when he would ask if you were okay.

"I told you not to try out that dance move!" He scolded you gently, carrying you in a piggyback as he nagged at you like a worried mom.

Again, usually you would take his gesture nonchalantly but this time, you would only apologise while hiding your face at the crook of his neck.

Renjun smiled at your action, finding you adorable.

"You're lucky you have me."

Ever since then, you began avoiding him for the sake of saving yourself from rejection, you knew deep down that Renjun couldn't possibly reciprocate your feelings. It even took awhile for you to process your emotions towards him but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense.

Renjun had been there for you, had been your number one support system and was overall, kind, generous and caring. Who wouldn't want him?

Unfortunately, you couldn't take that risk and opted to avoid him until you eventually got over it.

Little did you know, Renjun didn't like it one bit.

Especially when you would go as far as to turn the other way when he would approach you. He let it slide initially, thinking you needed space and tried to be understanding.

However, he was very concerned when you began to act weirdly around him, being too anxious to talk to him and being way too overly jumpy when he would touch your shoulder or doing something as simple as a brush on the hand. He thought he had done something to scare you and he wanted to apologise if he did.

But when he came up to you and did so, he was very shocked to find out your actual reasoning.

"Look, it's not you. It's me!" You cringed, hating the way you sounded. Renjun raised an eyebrow, not fully convinced with your words as well. "I'm serious! Lately, I've been having this strong feelings towards you and I can't help but feel nervous around you."

"What 'strong feelings'?" He asked.

"Do I really need to spell out for you?" You retorted, "I. Like. You."

His eyes widened at your straightforward confession, but you were quick to backtrack on your words when you realised you had just spoken aloud impulsively.

"But it's nothing serious— I swear! I'm just distancing myself so that I can get over it and we can be back as friends!" You chuckled nervously, not wanting to embarass yourself more than you probably have.

Without even looking at him, you turned your heels and began speed-walking away, wanting nothing more than to burn a hole in the ground.

Before you could make your exit, he gripped onto your hand, stopping you from your escape.

"You do have a way of confessing, don't you?" He scoffed playfully, pulling you closer so that your chest would touch his. "Dummy, why would you try to get over your feelings for me?"

"Because I know you don't feel the same— ow!"

You rubbed your forehead where Renjun flicked at, glaring at the boy.

"Idiot, you didn't even let me say anything."

"W-What?"

He leaned in closer, breath fanning your face before he gave you a light peck on the lips.

"I like you too."

And that is when you gained the confidence to pull him by the collar to steal another kiss.

✰ HAECHAN.

"Hey! Get back here!" The infuriating male chased after you, watching as you fastened your pace whenever you saw him.

For the past few days, Haechan had noticed your obvious distance towards him, which only made him upset whenever you refused to acknowledge him. He would sent you texts everyday but was only met by a single tick.

It was frustating to see you get so comfortable around his friends but immediately turning stoned-faced when it came to him, especially when you were the closest to him than anyone else!

Having had enough of your sudden cold attitude towards him, he was determined to find out why.

"What do you want, Donghyuck?" You asked in mild annoyance, partially to cover up the fact that your heartbeat kept racing whenever he was near you.

"Okay, that's it! What's your problem with me." Haechan huffed, arms crossed as he blocked you from the door.

"I don't have a problem with you." You lied.

"Then why do you keep avoiding me?" He asked sternly.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"We're not gonna talk in circles here." He groaned.

"Great, so let me out." You pushed him aside and began walking towards the door.

You gasped in shock when Haechan held your waist to tug your body closer, face buried in your neck. "Haec—"

"Tell me what's wrong." He said, softly this time.

You gulped nervously, hand holding onto his as you tried to remove yourself away from him, but the persistent male held on tighter.

"I'll let go after you tell me the truth." His voice muffled against your sweatshirt.

"Promise you won't laugh at me?" You asked shakily.

"I promise."

He looked up, piercing eyes gazed onto yours as he saw your pinky out in the open, waiting for his to intertwine against it. He smiled softly and reached out for your hand.

You sighed, mind going haywire as you tried to calm your nerves.

"I like you, Haechan. Like— really, really like you." You emphasised, eyes avoiding his as it was focused on your feet, "I got jealous when you got touchy with her because you were never like that to me."

You mumbled the last part.

"Her? You mean, my junior?" He clarified.

"Yeah.." You trailed off, hating how pathetic you sounded.

A moment of silence passed by when you heard Heachan let out a humouress laugh. You frowned, heart clenching at the thought of him mocking you.

"I knew it!" You shook your head, "I should've never told you anything. Forget I said anything." And with that, you took off.

You ran as fast as you could, desperately trying to get away from the most humiliating situation that you had stupidly gotten yourself into.

Too consumed in your self-pity, you didn't notice an incoming car driving its way towards your direction. It was when a loud honk snapped you out of trance but even then, it was too late.

Just as you were about to accept your fate, a hand pulled you, making you collide with the person.

"Idiot, did you not see where you're running!" Haechan yelled, face full of worry as he scanned over your body to look for any injuries.

"You promised you wouldn't make fun of me." You teared up, ignoring his previous question.

"No! I wasn't making fun of you." He explained, hand gripping your shoulder in an attempt to make you look at him. "I just find it funny that you would get jealous of her."

"I fail to see how that's funny." You crossed your arms.

"It's just, I should be the one confessing first." He revealed.

"What—"

"And don't even get me started on how Renjun would get all up on you whenever he sees you. I hate that shit." He rambled on.

"You were jealous." You concluded.

"Was that not obvious?" He shrugged. "So, I guess we both have a fair share of jealousy."

"But we were just talking about you." You justified, still in shock with his confession.

"Doesn't matter, now that we've both declared our feelings, he needs to back away from my girl." He smiled proudly.

"Um, excuse me. Who said I wanted to be your girl?"

"I literally chased you down the street like a maniac, are you really gonna prolong the inevitable?" He deadpanned.

"Hm," You pretended to think, "Walk me back home first then maybe I'll consider."

"I'll do more than just walk you back home."

"Watch it." You said sternly, face beet red as his cocky smirk was plastered on his face.

"God, you're so sexy when you're serious." He leaned over to give you a peck on the lips, "But let's see how serious you can get when I'm balls deep inside you."

And with that, Haechan did fulfill his promise by doing more than just walking you back home.

✰ JENO.

"I'm sure Jeno likes you." Haechan repeated for what seems to be the fourth time.

"Of course he likes me," You deadpanned, holding onto two pieces of dresses that you doubt would look good on you. "I'm his friend but does he like me?"

"Again, yes. He does." The male groaned, looking around to see piles of clothes scattered across your room. "You don't need to dress yourself up too much, he loves your own style."

You frowned, recalling the fretful memory a few days back.

"I heard Jeno likes girly girls."

"Yeah, that's what I heard too." Another one gushed, "That's why I don't see her as a competition.

"I know right. I mean, look at her!"

"Jeno must be blind if he ever goes out with her!"

And to think you met him and started off as casual flirting.

"That's a lie. Do you know how many pretty girls that are just drop-dead gorgeous? And you'd think he'd settle for this?"

"You're underestimating yourself, just ask him out normally." He shrugged, as if it was the most simplest thing you could do.

"Like this?" You asked incredulously, gesturing to your clothes.

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Ask him out with a baggy shirt and sweatpants? Are you serious?" You threw your dress onto the floor. "He'll laugh in my face, for crying out loud!"

"Look, I'm not gonna feed into your delusions so I'm gonna head outside and by the time I get back, you better be done." He walked out, ignoring your calls for him to come back.

In the end, you just settled with a warm sweatshirt and a denim skirt. It wasn't too fancy but it definitely wasn't your usual style.

"Are you done yet!" Haechan yelled from the other side of the door, too which you answered back, opening the door as he eyed your outfit with a hum of approval. "Not bad. Let's go."

The whole outing went relatively well, I mean—as well as it could cosidering your failed attempts at trying to ask Jeno out in private was very evident. A second couldn't go smoothly when girls would swoop in and join in the conversation, where you would have to awkwardly leave when the girls would get too flirty.

Little did you know, Jeno dreaded the attention, desperately wanting to spend some alone time with you. He sighed in defeat as he tried to tune out the conversation, shoulder slumping when you walked away.

As if the night couldn't get worse, Mark had drunkedly suggested to play a game of truth or dare. You had reluctantly agreed as Haechan practically pushed you in the circle. You blushed when Jeno sat by your other side, knees touching yours.

Rowdiness consumes the room as each took their turns, you looked away in disgust as Haechan made out with a girl as a dare. When it came to your turn, you had meekly picked truth, causing the room to let out sounds of disappointment.

"Okay." Jaemin smirked, watching you tensed up when he called your name. "When was the last time you hooked up?"

You looked down in shame, knowing that you hadn't been intimate with anyone for as long as you could remember.

Giggles could be heard as the girls pocked fun at you, one of them decided to berate you. "Of course she hasn't done anything. Why would you even bother asking her that?"

You were about to speak up when someone beat you to it.

"There's nothing wrong with that." Jeno spoke up, glaring at the girls. "And there isn't anything cool about shaming others for it, too."

"I'm not shaming her, I just think it's pathetic that she hasn't." She scoffed playfully.

"And you think it's not pathetic that you think you're better than her because of that." Silence filled the room as the girl stuttered, tears welling up her eyes.

"I—"

"For the record, I wouldn't fuck you even if I got paid to do it."

The girl stood up and ran away in embarassment, other girls following behind while glaring at you and Jeno.

It was silent for awhile before Mark spoke up.

"Well, this was fun."

After the awkward incident, the party ended shortly after. Slowly the crowd became lesser and you think it's time to leave after helping with the clean-up. Haechan was your ride and you had to wait outside his car alone while he went to the bathroom. You shivered at the cold breeze when suddenly, you felt a jacket wrapped around you.

Turning around, you saw Jeno, with a big smile as his eyes sparkled under the light. You awkwardly shifted, too shy to look at him for a little longer.

"You okay?" He spoke up, to which you give a firm nod.

"Thank you for standing up to me, by the way."

"That was nothing." He shrugged, "I would have done it to any friend."

Friend.

"Of course, we're friends." You gulped, fighting back tears, "That's all we'll ever be."

He called out your name with a hint of confusion, "What's wrong?"

"You know, I don't think I can stay friends with you." You told him.

"W-What, why?" He asked, taking a step closer towards you.

"I just don't know if I can ever deal with just being your friend." You revealed, "I mean, I can't exactly blame you either, I'm just an idiot for liking someone that's out of my league."

You didn't mean to pour all of your doubt onto Jeno but it was something that had been kept inside your heart for the longest time and it just burst out unexpectedly. Luckily, your conscience stopped you from spilling out more than what you have, shaking your head when he would try to come near you.

"Shit! Just ignore what I said." You said regretfully.

"No, talk to me." He pleaded, your name escaping his lips.

"Just let it go, Jeno." You stepped back, "Forget about it, please."

"No, there's no way I'm forgetting what you just said."

Just as he was about to speak again, Haechan came out, to which you signed in relief when he clicked his car keys, giving you the opportunity to slide in his car, Jeno following behind to stop you.

"You can't leave." Jeno pleaded, "We have to talk about this."

"Leave me alone, Jeno."

"What's going on?" Haechan spoke up, eyeing the two of you.

"I just really want to go home." You ignored Haechan's question, he didn't push further and only gave Jeno a look.

Thankfully, Jeno gave you space, but not before giving you one last glance as you sat on the passenger seat, you didn't bother looking at him, eyes focused on the front as Haechan entered the car.

The whole car ride was silent, Haechan didn't bother asking you what had happened, knowing that you didn't want to talk about it.

"Call me if you need anything." He said.

"Thank you." You closed his door before making your way to your apartment, keys in hand.

You stopped dead in tracks when you see a familiar figure standing outside your door, drops of sweats on his forehead as his shirt was wrinked up. You gulped nervously, mentally preparing yourself as you walked up to your door.

Jeno's head immediately turned towards you, he stood in front of your door with his arms crossed, face full of determination as he stared you down.

"Can you move." You looked down at your feet.

"Not until we talk." He said firmly.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Well, maybe to you but I have a lot to say." He said sternly, "You didn't even let me say anything before you start assuming that I wasn't interested."

"You said I'm your friend." You frowned, confused with his words, "Why shouldn't I assume that!"

"Because I thought you liked Haechan!" He shouted, chest heaving up and down.

"W—What, why?"

"Well, for one, you came to the party with him, and two, both of you would always come in pairs all the damn time so I'm sorry if I saw it the wrong way!"

"You should be because there's nothing going on between me and Haechan." You explained.

"I got that now." He muttered sarcatically, "And what were you even talking about with 'liking someone out of your league'?"

"It's pretty self-explanatory!" You deadpanned, "You're hot— like really hot, and look at me, you'd want to go out with someone who looks like this!"

"Someone as gorgeous as you, yeah!"

"You don't understand!"

"Make me understand then!"

"I'm sorry." A woman's voice spoke up, the room beside you opened as she walked outside the hallway, "Could you both keep it down a little, I have work the next morning."

"Sorry." The both of you mumbled in unison.

"We're done here." You said, taking your keys to open the door as you walked in to slam it shut on him.

However, he put his foot in between the door before squeezing his way inside. "Could you stop running away from me, we're having a serious conversation here!"

"Well, how about I take back my confession so you don't have to stress yourself out too much."

"There's no way I'm letting you take that back!"

"Well, too bad. I did." You crossed your arms, as if you had solved the problem, but your smile quickly dropped when you noticed his expression.

"Are you sure about that?" He smirked, trapping you behind a wall as his arms caged around you.

"What are you doing?" You asked nervously, watching as his eyes looked at you up and down with hunger.

"Changing your mind." His mouth made contact with your neck as you let out a loud moan.

You were in for a long night.

✰ JAEMIN.

Jaemin had always been a romantic. To you, it could come as an advantage or the complete opposite. For one, he would always notice the little things that would upset you, offering comfort and food to cheer you up and overall being the most caring and loving friend someone could ask for. However, his charms played a huge part in fuelling your hopes towards the lover boy. You couldn't risk destroying whatever you had with Jaemin just because you couldn't control your emotions. For that, you couldn't bring yourself to tell him how you truly felt.

This was one of those days. You were sick for the past few days and Jaemin had took the liberty of taking care of you, despite you warning him that he could catch your illness. The boy couldn't care less.

He placed a hot cloth on your forehead, bring you a bowl of soup that his mom made and rub circles at the your hand. All of this actions were too overwhelming for you to the point where you had accidentally blurted out your feelings towards him.

"You're such a boyfriend material, Jaem. I wish you knew how much I love you." You sighed dreamily.

Of course, in your sickened state, you hadn't realised and went back to sleep after your confession.

Jaemin chuckled at that and gently caressed your cheeks, admiring you, even though you were basically at your most unappealing state, tissues stuck up your nose as your eyes were puffy from the flu. Eventually after a few minutes, he too dozed off.

When you had awoken up the next morning, you felt much better than before, thanks to Jaemin. As you shuffled your way to the kitchen, you could already see him cooking up something. You quietly sat down on the stool as you watched him do his thing.

When he turned around, he gave you one of his signature smile that made your heart melt.

"You feeling alright?" He walked over, handing you a plate of omelette.

"Yeah." You yawned, "Thanks for taking care of me, Jaem."

"Of course, why wouldn't I take care of the girl who's in love with me?" He teased, making you freeze in your seat, eyes widening at his words.

"W—What are you talking about, idiot?" You attempted to cover up, chuckling nervously when he rounded to corner to get close to you, in which you backed away in return.

"Come on, let's not kid ourselves here." He smirked, "How long were you gonna keep your feelings hidden away from me?"

You began backing away more further, "Stop coming nearer, you freak!"

"Stop running away then!"

"Get away!"

"Get back here, missy!"

He broke out to a sprint, chasing you around the house when you began picking up your steps. You were red from embarassment and Jaemin didn't make things any better for you.

"Stop running!"

"Never!"

Unfortunately, you did stopped when Jaemin tackled you down on the couch, his hands holding your arms to restrain you from moving. You squirmed under his touch, humiliated that you had just gotten caught.

He began tickling you, to which you only thrash around, laughing hysterically as you begged him to stop.

"I'll stop when you don't make a move to run again." His hands made its way towards your stomach, continuing his attack, "Do we have a deal?"

"Deal! Deal! Just stop!"

True to his words, he did and that's when the laughter died down as the both of you stared into each other's eyes, lost in the moment as he began to lean in. You didn't get to process his actioms before you began kissing him back, hands wrapped around his neck to pull him closer as he gripped onto the couch to support his balance, hovering over you as you both made out.

After awhile, you pulled away, to which Jaemin leaned in again, wanting to get another kiss.

"I'm still sick, Jaem." You leaned away.

"I don't care."

And with that, his lips reconnected with yours once again.

✰ CHENLE.

"Idiot, watch where you're going." Chenle scoffed, bumping his shoulder against yours. "I almost spilled my drink on my shirt because of you."

You rolled your eyes at the taller male. Chenle had been your arch nemesis since the dawn of time. It was never usually serious though, more of light jabs and insult thrown at each other but none were ever meant to be hurtful. You never really hated Chenle, it's just that you had this dynamic where bickering was a constant need to keep the conversations going with him. And you really like aggravating the hot-headed male.

"Whatever, I bet it would make it look better than whatever you're wearing."

"You little bitc—"

"Okay!" Jisung interjected, squeezing his way between the two of you, hand awkwardly stretched to keep a distance. "Let's have fun at this party and not cause unnecessary fights."

"But she— fuck!" Chenle groaned, bending down slightly to rub his ankle that Jisung had kicked, glaring at the male. "Right, Chenle?"

Chenle let out a sigh of defeat before nodding along to his best friend's words, burning holes at your face when you snickered at him.

The night went on, full of alcohol and dancing and you were honestly on the brink of passing out but you kept downing down shots, your body at a point of losing its own control.

"Okay, that's enough." Chenle snatched your glass away, which caused you to whine obnoxiously.

"Dude, you're completely intoxicated. I'm taking you home."

"N-No! I wanna stay! It's fun here." You slurred, stumbling with your balance.

"Uhuh, come on." He held your waist to balance you up, "Let's go."

After bidding goodbye to your friends, he guided you towards his car and just when he tucked you into the passenger seat and helped you with the seatbelt, your words made him paused his actions.

"You know, Chenle. You're lucky I like you because I would never let anyone do this to me."

"Is that so?" He hummed.

"Mhm, here feel my heartbeat." You grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest, he could feel your heartbeat beating fast, "It always like that whenever I'm around you."

He smiled softly, a blush crept on his face. "Let's get you back home, cutie."

The following day felt like a blur, you groaned when you stirred yourself awake, only to be greeted by three missed calls from someone.

You grabbed your phone and looked through the call sheet to check who it was, your brows furrowed in confusion when you saw that those three calls came from Chenle.

Just as you were about to ponder more, your phone began to vibrate and he called you again, making you answer his call with a loud huff.

"What do you want?" You said.

"Shower and get ready, I'll pick you up."

When you were about to reply, he had already hung up. In your tired state, you didn't have room to argue and you shuffled your way to the bathroom, yawning loudly in the process.

"Mind telling me why you're acting so weird today?" You entered his car, watching as he helped put on the seatbelt for you.

"Can't I just be nice today?" He shrugged, a smug smile on his lips.

Throughout the car ride, he would occasionally steal glances in your way and purposely shift in his car seat to get closer to you. At first, you didn't think much of it and assumed that you were just overthinking but the more you could feel his arms brushed up against yours when he made a u-turn, the more you couldn't contain your flustered state. Letting a noise of complaint when you realised that he was doing it intentionally.

"Ugh, is it something I did yesterday? I swear, whatever I did or say means nothing. I was drunk." You explained, once he had parked his car outside your destination.

He wasn't fully convinced with your words, "Haven't you heard of 'drunk words, sober thoughts'?"

"Just tell me what I did—"

"You confessed your undying love for me." He revealed, making your eyes widened as you let his words sink in.

"You said I was the reason your heartbeat's beating so fast everytime." He came in closer, hand reaching out to hold your palm, "Let's put that to the test and see if you're lying."

Truth be told, your heart rate was beating so fast that you swore you could hear it. Embarassment flooded through your face as your only thought was fleeing out of the car, reaching out for the door handle, your heart dropped when it clicked back in place.

"Nuh-uh, I knew you were gonna run away." He tsked, "Come on, sweetheart, nothing to be embarassed about."

"Ugh, Chenle. Let me out!" You groaned stubbornly. "This is kidnapping!"

"You're such a drama queen, at least turn around and look at me."

"No!" You refused, "If I do, I feel like I'm gonna humiliate myself further!"

"You won't, just look at me please." He said softly, hand gently holding onto your shoulder to turn you around.

Just as you did so, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. His other hand cupping your cheeks as his teeth gently bite your bottom lip, causing you to gasp as he took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside.

For a moment, you indulged yourself into the kiss, hand reaching out to tug his hair as you both made out in his car.

Pulling away, you slowly opened your eyes, only to be greeted by a cocky smile from Chenle.

"No more running away, we're together now." His hands made its way to yours as he interlocked it.

✰ JISUNG.

"Do you think this girl looks cute?" Jisung showed you his phone, for what felt like the tenth time, at this point, you were grown tired at his obliviousness to your bubbling jealousy.

"I don't know, does she?" You asked in annoyance, trying to appear as if the topic bores you.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you." He scratched his head awkwardly, looking back and forth between his phone and your disinterested figure.

"Are you serious, right now?"

"What?" He tilted his head in confusion.

"Nothing." You huffed, "It's whatever."

"I'II help you find a guy too if that's what you're angry about." He muttered, as if that was what you were truly upset about.

"It's not even about that!" You snapped, head turning back towards the TV screen as you tried to contain your emotions.

"Then what is?"

"Forget it!"

"No, something I'm doing is upsetting you and I want to know what."

"Fine." You looked at him, watching as he slightly flinced at how fast you turned. "Since you want to know so much, I like you Jisung." You rambled on, "And it hurts when you don't feel the same! Watching you for hours finding some chick all while trying to keep it to myself at the fact that I'm madly in love with you!"

You let out a breathe you didn't know that you had held for so long, conscience crept in when you realised you had exposed yourself a little too much. Regret started seeping in as you began rushing to collect your things to leave his apartment before you embarass yourself further.

"Fuck! I should go."

"Wait!" He grabbed onto your hand, preventing you from moving.

You tried to pull away from his hold, shaking your head when he came closer.

"Just leave me alone for now, okay?" You pleaded, "I really need time away from you."

He seemed to hesitate, hand still gripping onto yours when he realised your distress state and eventually loosened his hold, giving you the chance to run away.

Ji: 'I hope you get home safe.'

Ji: 'I know you want space but I really want you to know how much I care about you. Talk to me when you're ready, I'll wait.'

It's been a few days since you've been actively ignoring Jisung, despite him agreeing to give you space, he didn't necessarily stopped checking in with you through messages, to which you only replied dryly.

Other than that, he didn't try to approach you and would only give you a small smile from a distance.

Days went by till weeks and you were still in the process of getting over him. It seems as if the odds were in your favour when you met a a friend of a friend, you both seemed to be getting along well and you agreed to hang out with him when he offered.

Hearing this, Jisung didn't like it one bit. Hating the fact that you were trying to get over him. He rushed at your apartment door, banging on it repeatedly, stopping when you opened it abruptly.

"Jisung?" You asked, "What are you doing here—"

You were cut off when he engulfed you in a tight hug, face buried in your neck as he mumbled something you couldn't quite understand.

"What?"

"I said don't go on the date with him." He pleaded, eyes glossy as he looked at you. "I was an idiot, I should've realised it sooner. I love you too and I was too scared to admit it too!"

You gasped in shock but Jisung still continued on.

"I tried to move on because I thought you didn't feel the same but when you confessed to me that day, I was happy." He explained, "You told me you needed space so I gave it to you, but I can't let you get over me. I won't let you!"

He sobbed quietly in your arms while you tried to soothe him.

"Calm down." You patted his shoulder, but he only gripped your waist tighter.

After a moment, he lifted his head up to which you took the opportunity to give him a kiss. You could hear him gasped in shock but he eventually melted against your lips, moulding it against yours as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

It was safe to say that you had ditched your date.

©ruwriteshours

566 notes · View notes

scarletwinterxx · 28 days

Text

fool for you - mark lee dad scenario

a bit late to this but OH MY GOD MARK LEE GIRL DAD😭🥺😭🥺 we already know he's going to be the best dad to his kids in the future🤍🤍

you already know my feels went through the roof after seeing that cli[ so here's another mark dad scenario and can you believe this is the 10th one OMGGGGGG anyways i hope you like it!

part1: day with dad mark lee

part2: another day with dad mark lee

part3: a day with the lee's

part4: (prologue) i don't know how to make eggs

part5: glitter pens and goodnight kisses with the Lee's

part6: first love and kisses

part7: naps and baby kicks

part8: then there was three

part9: just like you

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"in my next life, I think I'll become a fool for my daughter"

"Lovie, can you stay with Minjee? I'm just going to the mall with Minjung to get new shoes and a few other stuff for the baby" you tell your husband who is currently on the sofa resting.

It's around that time again when you're counting down the days until the new baby comes, this time the two of you choose to keep the gender a surprise. You won't find out until you give birth. There's an on going bet in your household whether it'll be a girl or a boy.

"Why don't I come with him? You sure you okay to go out?" he asks, watching you struggle putting on your shoes. He chuckles before walking toward you, kneeling down to put it on for you even double tying the shoelaces just to be sure.

"It's okay, besides the doctor said it's healthy to walk around. And we both know it'll be easier to look after Minjung then Jee" you laugh, your husband agreeing with you

"She's the main character, we're all just living in her world" he says

You smile at Mark, giving him a kiss before getting your purse and keys.

"Call me if you need anything" he tells you

"Minjung, let's go" you shout, your son appears from the staircase ready to go

"You already know, buddy. Take care of mom, okay? Call me if something happens" he gives his son a quick hug before watching the two of you drive away

The two of you finished the errands and is now getting a quick snack before heading home. You like having one on one time with your kids. It helps you keep a closer relationship with them. And even though you know the two siblings get along very well, you still make it a point to spend time with them one by one. And so does Mark.

"Is there anything else you need, buddy?" you ask your son

He shakes his head, taking a bite of his sandwich. You smile watching him, it feels just like yesterday you were sitting in the backseat with newborn Minjung in the baby car seat on your way home from the hospital and now he's 13.

"How do you feel about getting another sibling?"

He looks at you, it's like looking at Mark's eyes. They same round, adorable chocolate eyes you love so much.

"Excited. It'll be cool if it's a boy. I'll teach him to play basketball and bike. It's okay too if it's a girl" he shrugs

"You know mommy and daddy loves you very very much"

"I know, I love you too" he smiles back at you

When you get home, Minjee welcomes you excitedly asking if you got her a cakepop which Minjung hands over to his sister

"Wah thank you, oppa! Dad look oppa got me a pink cakepop!" she screams excitedly, running to wherever Mark is. You and Minjung follow her, Mark in the kitchen getting dinner ready

"Cool, but you can have that after dinner okay? Na uh don't give me that look, missy. I ordered chicken just like you asked" the father-daughter banter continues

The two siblings help set up the table while you stay in the kitchen with Mark, "How did it go?" Mark asks you

"Good, we had fun. You sound like you had fun too" you joked

"I swear she knows how to make me says yes" he mumbles, you walk towards him, giving him a side hug

"You love her" you tell him with a chuckle and a kiss on the jaw

"That I do. I'd do anything for our kids" he says, looking down at you. He kisses you on the nose, eliciting giggles from you before breaking away

"Okay, dinner time!"

After dinner and everyone finished with their night time routines, it's finally time to call it a night.

You lay on your side of the bed, getting the pregnancy pillow ready

"Can I keep that after?" Mark asks, you watch him step out of the shower. Towel hanging on his hips while he dries his hair with another

"No" you tell him with a tight smile, Mark laughs before walking towards the dresser to get clothes

"Oh come on, let me enjoy the view some more"

"Woman, you are already pregnant" he tells you, playfully throwing the towel he was drying his hair with towards you. He puts on his sleeping shorts, leaving the shirt behind. He goes out the room to check all doors before going to bed

He turns towards you, the two of you face to face.

"Just a few more days and it'll be five of us" he whispers. His hand resting on your belly

"I'm calling it, this one will look like you again" you tell him

"You love us"

"That I do, I love you and all versions of you. Especially the little humans we made" you smile at him. He scoots closer to kiss you. Kissing you on the lips then on your cheeks a few time until you were laughing.

"Okay, time to rest. Goodnight, baby. I love you" he tells you

"Love you"

Minjung woke up to something poking his back, groggily looking to see Minjee

"Jee? What?"

The girl hiccups, still crying. This woke Minjung up more, sitting up on his bed and turning the bedside light on,

"Why are you crying? Did you have a bad dream?" he asks

"Will mom and dad not let me live here when the baby comes?" she asks, her tiny voice breaking

"What? of course not" her brother immediately answers. He gets out from under the blanket to hug his sister, wiping a few tears running down her face

"When you were born, I was so excited. Dad took me to the hospital to meet you. You had this big bow on, you were crying a lot too" he tells her

"You were there?" she asks

Minjung smiles "Yea, dad even helped me to carry you. You were really tiny. When the new baby comes, we'll go together to meet them"

"Will you still play with me when they come?"

"Of course I will, we're bestfriends right? You gave me this" he says, showing the beaded bracelet Minjee made for him. Similar to what she's wearing.

"You promise? You'll still get me cakepops?"

"Of course, pinkypromise"

The two siblings lock pinky fingers, the younger one finally smiling.

"Wait here okay?" Minjung says before going out of his room and carefull walking towards his parents bedroom. Knocking lightly before going in.

He walks towards Mark's sleeping figure, tapping him awake

"Huh what wha huh?? Minjung? Are you okay? What's happening?" Mark asks, sitting up immediately

"What time is it?" he asks, looking for his phone to see it's 2am

"Minjee woke up crying, she's in my room now"

Mark stands up carefully, looking over at your sleeping figure before quickly putting on a shirt and walking out with Minjung

"She okay? bad dream?"

"No uh it's about the new baby"

His son didn't need to elaborate anymore, already getting a hint why his babygirl was crying.

When the two walks back to Minjung's room, Jee still sitting there.

"Hey, Jee. Come on, dad will come with you. Goodnight buddy, thank you for being a good brother" Mark tells his eldest, kissing him on the head before stepping out of the room with the younger one

"Do you want warm milk before going back to bed?" Mark asks the 6 year old girl, getting a no from her

When they get to Minjee's room, the two sat on the bed

"Are you sad right now?" Mark asks his daughter

"Will you still love Jee when the baby comes?" Jee asks and Mark crumbles

"Oh my girl, of course I will. I'll love you longer than forever and that's a long long long time. You'll always be my princess. Even after the new baby comes, mom and dad might need to spend more time with them but that doesn't mean we love you and your brother any less" he tucks her hair behind her ear, pinching her cute round cheeks she definitely got from you.

"Can dad have a hug?" he opens his arms, Minjee scooting in her father's embrace

"Always remember, dad loves you so so much. I'd give you the moon and all the stars if you want. If you ever feel sad you can come and talk to me okay?"

He feels the younger one nod. Tucking her in bed, giving her a kiss on the forehead before calling it a night (again)

When he gets back to your room, he slides under the sheets then he feels you search for him

"Min?" you mumble

"Here, baby. Go to sleep" he leans over to give your temple a kiss. He sees a sleepy smile on your lips before your heads goes down on the pillow again.

Just like that everyone was asleep again, but before he fades into dreamland he says a silently thank you to heaven for this life. Ready and excited to face tomorrow with his family.

169 notes · View notes

jaelvr · 20 days

Text

oops

Home | NCT 127 masterlist |

Requested : no

Prompts ; 12. “Ow! What did I do this time?!” + 35. “If anything happens to me, remember that I’ll always love you.”

Pairing : spiderman! Mark x reader

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : fluff

Word count : 1.2k

Warnings : mutual feelings, friends to lovers, idol au, fluff, slightly ooc

Have a great day !!

——————————

"Holy shit dude!" you murmured, eyes widening as you took in the scene, your best friend had just swung through his window. You had been sitting in his room, scribbling away at his desk while you waited for him to get home when he'd swung through the window - no, wait, spiderman had swung through the window. As soon as Spiderman turned, his expression went from confused to shocked and a slight blush spread its way across his cheeks once the reality of the situation set in. His hands shook out of nervousness and slight panic as he thought about every decision he’d made that led him here. He cleared his throat before finally speaking. “um…” he mumbled.

"You're Spiderman?!" you gasped, letting out a nervous laugh as you stood up. “yeah…” He sighed and looked away, then back at you. he crossed his arms and tried to stand up straighter. though he was the one doing the whole superhero shtick, he still lacked confidence when talking to you. “I guess you know now.” His hands fidgeted with his suit’s sleeves as he spoke. "Do the others know? Does Hyuck know?" you rambled, standing in front of him as you looked at his suit. "How does it work?-" You continued, getting excited and not noticing his slightly overwhelmed expression.

“Wait slow down- no, Hyuck doesn’t know. most people don’t. and uh…” Mark took a breath to focus and gather his thoughts. he didn’t think he’d have to really explain any of the superhero business to you. He was really nervous about what you were thinking right now. “uh, how does what work?” He asked, trying to keep up with all the questions you were throwing at him. "Sorry, I'm uh..I'm probably overwhelming you right now." you apologised sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Nah, it’s fine….” he chuckled nervously and fidgeted with his fingers. Mark didn’t get nervous around anyone but he was always nervous around you. “So… do you think I’m weird now?” he wondered, slightly anxious about your reaction.

"Weird? Mark, my best friend is Spiderman! Do you know how cool that is?" you gushed, cheeks a gentle pink and a massive grin on your face. “R-really? you’re fine with it and don’t think I’m some weirdo?” The way he spoke implied that people he knew before would react differently, hence the nervousness. “You’re not gonna think of me differently now? like, you’re still gonna want to hang out with me?” he wondered in disbelief. "Mark, nothing could stop me from hanging out with you." you assured gently, sitting on his bed.

His heart melted. Mark could never truly put into words how much it meant to him to have someone like you in his life. You never thought he was odd, or a weirdo. You liked him for the person that he was inside. The superhero stuff was just a bonus. he stepped forward and sat beside you. “seriously? you mean it? you’re not going to treat me any differently now that you know?” Mark mumbled hesitantly, unsure of your response. "You're still the same Mark Lee, right?" you teased gently, cupping his face. “I mean yeah…” he looked down at your hand touching his face, a tinge of blush crept to his cheeks. after a few more seconds, he looked back up at you. “but I’m a superhero now. Doesn’t that make me cooler or something?”

"You've always been cool to me." you murmured, caressing his cheek. “you’re going to make me cry.” his cheeks were fully flushed and his heart was racing. Mark was more in love with you than usual. If he could, he would’ve kissed you right now. but he was too shy and knew that if he did it now, it would be super cheesy. "You're still gonna come to our movie nights right? And you're not too cool for cuddles?" you teased gently, a small smile on your face as you looked at him and your cheeks heating up. he chuckled. You definitely caught him off guard. “yeah, I'm not gonna just stop hanging out with you because I'm a superhero. and no, I'll never be too cool for cuddles.” he took one of your hands and rubbed his thumb over your wrist, smiling softly.

"… I missed you." you admitted gently, resting your head on his shoulder. “I missed you too….” he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him. His fingers found a way into your hair, running through the strands lovingly. Mark was thankful for this moment, this moment of comfort, but he also wanted more. "promise you'll try and be careful out there?" you muttered, playing with his hand. “I promise I'll be the most careful I can be.” his hand tightened on yours as if to reassure you. Mark was grateful for this conversation. that now, you were fully aware of what he did during his spare time, you were worried for him. and he felt thankful that you cared about his well being. He leaned his head onto yours, pressing his forehead to yours. “If anything happens to me, remember that I’ll always love you.”

A small smile settled on your face, your cheeks heating up and your heart rate speeding up at the unexpected confession of reciprocated feelings. You let out a soft chuckle before gently punching his arm, forehead still against his. “Ow! What did I do this time?!” Mark playfully shoved you back, giving you a teasing glare, though his blush grew in the process. He thought back to a few times throughout the day when he’d caught you staring at him with a soft smile. Mark could’ve sworn you were flirting, but he didn’t know for certain. At that exact moment, he wanted to ask you, but he was too nervous. "Don't joke about stuff like that!" you pouted, sending him a soft smile. "I'm serious, Mark Lee. I can't lose you."

His heart started hammering. there was a chance. a chance that you were serious about all this, all this flirting, all this… the thought of it being true made him weak in the knees. he cleared his throat and spoke while still looking at your lips. ”Okay, but, what if I told you I felt the same way?” Mark answered back, deciding to take the chance. "then I'd tell you to kiss me right now." you responded, lips brushing against his. his breath caught in his throat as your lips brushed against his. All his self-control escaped him and his lips met yours, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled you even closer, kissing you back enthusiastically. After a few moments, his breath was heavy and he was practically panting. Mark let go of you and looked away, his cheeks very flushed. He tried to get himself together. “…so, uh…” he started.

He didn't get a chance to speak before he was tugged into another kiss, a smirk plastered on his face as he felt your hands tangle in his hair. Mark's eyes fluttered close once your lips were against his once more. His hands went back to your waist and his arms wrapped around you once again, pulling you into a tight embrace as he kissed you back. His lips moved with yours in tandem, kissing you over and over. Mark's heart beat faster as the seconds passed by, but he couldn't stop because he didn’t want to get off of this high.

This beautiful high.

141 notes · View notes

justwritedreams · 7 months

Text

Purple lips | Mark

Mark x Reader, established relationship au Word count: 790 Genre: fluff Author: maari Warnings: none Note: I don't know what happened here but I can't stop thinking about making out with him so yeah BYE Summary: Mark really liked the purple tone your lips got from the exotic fruit. ⪢ NCT Masterlist

"Hey babe."

She smiled as she heard Mark's voice echo through the house.

"I'm in the kitchen." she announced as she closed the refrigerator door and heard him close the door.

Soon, he was wrapping his arms around her waist as she laughed, feeling his lips place a kiss on the back of her neck.

She took a hand to his sweaty hair and stroked the short strands.

"How was the rehearsal?" she asked, and he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Tiring." he sighed and she turned her face to kiss his cheek. "Do you mind if I take a shower here?"

"Of course not." he smiled lightly at her, giving her a quick peck on the lips before walking away. "Do you want me to order food?"

"Please, I'm hungry." She nodded and he went to the bathroom while she took her phone to order food.

As her fingers slid across the phone screen, she continued eating what she had set aside before Mark arrived. After ordering the food, she put what she ate in the fridge when she noticed that she was almost finished with all the contents and went to the living room, throwing herself on the sofa while waiting for Mark.

It didn't take long for him to return with wet hair and clean clothes, which he had purposely left at his girlfriend's house.

"Wow, I really needed a good shower." he said and sat next to her on the couch. "I was-" he looked up at her face but stopped at her mouth, laughing. "What happened to your mouth?"

She frowned, confused.

"What?"

"Why is it purple?" he asked, laughing even harder and kinda surprised.

"Huh?" She brought her hands to her mouth and pulled it forward, looking down. It was a slightly stronger shade of purple that was very different from when she put on lipstick. “Oh.” she laughed lightly too, looking at Mark who still looked impressed. "My friend who went to Japan brought a Brazilian fruit in a bowl as if it were ice cream, it’s called Açaí." “Acaik?” he tried to say it and she laughed, he made such a cute face that it was almost impossible to contain the urge to squeeze his cheeks. “No, you put emphasis on the i at the end.” Mark tried to repeat, shaking his head. "But what does it have to do with your mouth?"

"It's a purple fruit." she explained and he raised his eyebrows, understanding.

"Oh!"

He didn't take his eyes off her mouth, making her cheeks heat up.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Mark didn't respond, he just brought his face closer to hers with his eyes focused on her mouth and then kissed her purple lips, feeling them cold but with a sweet taste.

As if he were intoxicated, he took her lips to himself again, making her sigh and close her eyes as the contrast of his warm lips against her cold ones made her heart race, he took the opportunity to place his hands on her waist. Mark tasted her lips as if he could taste the remains of the fruit, and the slow, wet kiss involved tongues as well, she brought her hands to the back of Mark's neck as he leaned forward and turned his head to the side, to deepen the kiss. His arms wrapping around her waist so that their bodies were also together, he needed her close to him. Her body temperature rose and she had to contain her hissing when Mark bit her lower lip eagerly. She wasn't expecting a make-out session at that time, not that she would complain of course. She opened her eyes, seeing Mark staring at her lips, which were now a mixture of purple and red, as well as swollen, but to him they were even more inviting. “You taste sweet.” he spoke quietly, touching their foreheads and she laughed, anxiously.

"God, you can't do this and tell me these things without warning." she said, taking in the air she was lacking.

Mark laughed.

"Why?"

"I'm sweating!"

He ran his tongue to wet his own lips, which didn't go unnoticed by her.

"Do you want me to stop?" he looked at her with false innocence and she narrowed her own eyes.

With that innocent face, it didn't even seem like he was that naughty.

"Of course not, come here."

She pulled him in for another kiss, which this time would be more sensual but not the last of the night.

Mark would kiss her lips until he could taste the last of the fruit and they would turn completely red.

He himself would make a point of buying that fruit from now on.

279 notes · View notes

honeym4rk · 2 years

Text

skinship - kisses

in a relationship where your boyfriend finds physical affection rather awkward, you’d best believe it would’ve taken some time for him to warm up to the idea of skinship- skin to skin, a hand on his, cheeks crashing together as close as possible. but the patience comes at a good cost- mark has several ways to close the distance between you.

previous (lightswitch)

summary: it shouldn't be this hard to go about kissing mark.

something you never expected at the start of your relationship was mark’s initial hesitance to kiss you.

of course, naturally, it takes some time for two people to cross their own boundaries of comfort, to enter, invade, and conquer another’s territory of personal space. some people forego this careful caution in a budding relationship, and dive right into one another. neither you or mark are some people.

and it’s not that you think mark is particularly bold: you know he isn’t very upfront and confident in expressing his feelings for you. you’ve known this from the very start, when his friends had to literally push him to ask you out, and the very awkward first conversation you had. you know he can get a bit shy, but part of you always thought, that every now and then, he’d have bursts of the courage that he has when he’s on stage. mark can definitely be suave, and cool, and charming, but mostly when he’s in his element and knows exactly what he’s doing.

right now, in this moment, he has no idea what he’s doing.

the credits of the Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle are starting to roll, and you’re stuck frozen in the burrow you’ve made in the fold of the sofa, head resting on his shoulder as his arm is wrapped loosely around your side. it’s been holding you like this since the halfway point of the movie- you didn’t notice, but he let out a sigh of relief and satisfaction when he succeeded in placing it there. he stretched, arms going as high as they possibly could, before his limb wandered and found its way pulling you closer to him. cliche, he knows, but a win for him nonetheless. he had to hold back his grin when you leaned into his body.

at first, you could feel his fingers ghosting the frayed threads of your jean shorts, like his wrist was stiff and his hand was afraid to open up so his palm would make full contact with the skin of your thigh. but as the movie progressed, and he constantly broke into his cute, little, hearty giggle that somehow sent his entire body into motion, his hand started to ease, fingers drumming on your supple skin, drawing circles on it, accidentally hitting it when he laughs a bit too hard.

he gulps, and breathes, “wow, that movie was not as bad as i thought it was.”

“yeah, it was pretty good.” neither of you make an effort to move out of the position. a slight shift could mean this rare moment of comforting proximity that you waited so long for would vanish in an instant, like a bubble popping after floating around in glee. so you force your head to continue facing the screen, eyes boring into the tiny, white words that are scrolling away.

before you know it, even the credits have finally come to a close, and your eyes are fixated on the next netflix recommendation, Jumanji: The Next Level that’s about to play in 5, 4, 3, 2,

your head snaps up to turn, still balanced on the ball of his shoulder. when you face him, you’re staring right at him. he does that stupidly attractive thing where he turns his head towards you before his eyes land on yours, and your eyes are now locked on his. you bite your lip to ease just a little bit of your restlessness, and this movement causes his eyes to dart to your lips for just a split second.

he gulps again.

screw it, you’re gonna have to say something.

“are you gonna kiss me?” oh my god. not that. stupid, stupid, self-sabotage.

his hand flies away from your leg, retreating back to him so he can make huge, sporadic gestures that speak for his panic and awkwardness.

“uhhh, i-” his hand is rubbing at his nose, and though it’s dark and his head is turned away from you once again, the light from the television lets you see the pink tint that begins to dust his cheeks. “i mean, if you, if you, um, want me to,”

you don’t know why you find this so cute- you literally felt just as awkward as he does a second ago, but seeing him freak out somehow fortifies you to prod at him a little more. besides, you realise that if you don’t make a move now, after at least a month and a half of going out with him, mark’s probably never going to.

your face scrunches up into a chuckle and you don’t take your eyes off him- “well, do you want to?”

“i mean, i-i totally do want to,” his hand is on his chest, and it comes down as he points at you with his thumb, “i’m just really scared that you- don’t? i don’t know,” mark leans forward from the couch to run his fingers through his hair, and you tug at his shirt sleeve multiple times to pull him back.

“i do, mark, i really do.”

“um, okay! great. cool,” he squeaks out, and his movements to almost close the gap between your faces are so mechanic, and panic settles onto his mind and his features, “oh, but i, uh, sorry if i’m a bad kisser or anything, i don’t really get much uh, practice in this, haha.”

you have to turn your face away to hold back a giggle at this cute, shy mess of a boy, before you finally compose yourself, and let one hand gently cup the side of his jaw, and reassuring, “it’s fine. sorry if i’m no good either.”

you smile, and plant the briefest kiss on the corner of his mouth. then you let go.

“now, how was that?”

“t-that wasn’t even a kiss!”

“really?” you laugh, bringing your legs up onto the couch to kneel and face him completely. this time, you hold both of his cheeks in both of your hands before closing your eyes and pressing your lips on his, for a while longer now, and you’re just about to pull away when you feel fingertips ghosting up your jaw, and feel him tilt his head so that his mouth fits perfectly in the crevices of yours.

“what about now?”

“better.”

he shifts his body to fully face you too, and your mouths meld together just a few more times, and the feeling of his fingers gripping at you, lips chasing after yours, drowns out the background noise of kevin hart bickering with dwayne johnson. you’re melted into this moment, and you don’t want it to end.

another thing you never really expected from mark was- well, his fear of sudden pecks, those that catch him off-guard, those that come when he least expects them to. they don’t give him any time to react, or prepare, or take a breath so he doesn’t combust when your lips touch his skin.

you’ve made out a few times with him so far in the couple of times you’ve seen him since that very night, and so you thought that he’d appreciate the quick, little kisses, but you probably shouldn’t have assumed.

he’s getting ready to leave your apartment after another movie night, and just before he walks out the door, he hugs you goodbye, and before he can pull back, you sneak a kiss on the tiny corner of his mouth that’s turned up into a smile. or at least, you try to.

he flings himself out of your grasp, head jerking back so fast and hard that you almost tumble into him from the momentum, and both of you stare in complete shock at one another.

“oh, ummm, sorrysorrysorry, haha, awwwkwaaaard!” your hands fly to the air in surrender as if you’ve been caught red-handed, and your feet take slow, tiny steps away from him.

“that’s my bad, oh my god i’m sorry,” your words are drowned out by his, and every cell in you is cringing from embarrassment and from worry and fear that you’ve done something wrong, something you shouldn't have done, did you go too far? are you stupid for thinking that would be okay?

“sorry, i, uh, i think it’s like, muscle memory to move away because haechan and the guys, well, mostly haechan, always tries to do that kinda thing. i-it’s not you! i swear! you’re great! haechan, not so, you know what i mean? like i wanna kiss you too but in that moment my body prepared for fight or flight, you know? oh my god i’m so sorry.” he’s doing that thing with his gestures again, frantically waving his hands to ensure you visually comprehend that it’s not your fault.

this revelation comes like a knife slicing through the tension that once was, and you hide your face behind your hands in relief, giggling at the stark weirdness of it all, but you also can’t shake off the tinge of sadness from the rejection. it wasn’t directed towards you, you know, but you just can’t help but feel a little taken aback by what happened.

he grabs your wrists, pulling you towards him, and encouraging you to try again.

“okay, go on. i’m ready now. sorry. just not used to this.” his cheeks are a deep shade of red, and his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

you’re smiling throughout the entire, brief, kiss goodbye.

nearly six months have passed, and you try to give him a peck every now and then, just to see if he still retracts in fear, and you can see him tense up every time you try.

so you stop.

the last time you’d tried was right before he left for tour, and in your endless contemplation of your relationship (you had way too much time on your hands not to fall down the rabbit hole of thinking), you come to the conclusion that maybe it’s just something you don’t have to do to mark. with mark, for mark. besides, there are other ways to express your love for him anyways- he doesn’t cringe when you run your fingers through his hair, or when you wrap your arms around him in a bear hug from behind. probably because he doesn’t mind when his friends do it too. and it’s not like you can’t kiss him entirely, you just have to make sure he’s fully aware of the sparks that are about to fly when your lips touch, instead of the little zaps of static that come when he least expects them to, the ones that he shies away from.

it’s been a week since he’s returned. a week since your suffering has finally come to an end, a week since the longing that filled your entire being to the brim finally drained out when your body collided into his when you embraced after what felt like an eternity. it took everything in you not to jump at him when you saw him at your door, so instead of fighting against your growing excitement, you run straight into his arms, hopping as his hands link together to prop you up.

it’s hard not to tear up- the sight of mark in the flesh is overwhelming and sensational and you’re burying your face into his neck, hands playing with the hair at his nape. what used to be short, clipped ends that pricked at your fingers have now grown into something like a mullet- you remember when you saw photos of him online the other day and started crying because it was a reminder of just how much time was passing without him around. you’re crying, now, too, and mark starts to giggle you can hear just how tired he is from the grogginess of his voice- “aw, babe, are you crying?”

“no.” he tries to nudge at you so you can pull your head back, but you stick to him like a koala wrapped around a tree until he lets go of your legs and tries to tickle you.

“awwwww, nooo! you’re making me want to cry too!” he whines, and you wipe your tears away on the sleeve of your sweater before finally looking up at his face through your glossy eyes. his face has changed, too. his eyebags are puffy, his cheeks are sunken in the slightest bit, and his jawline is more prominent than you remember it to be. his face feels just a little smaller in your hands when you hold him, and you’re staring, wondering if it’s been so long that you’ve simply forgotten the tactile sense of touching him, feeling him.

before this can spur any more tears from escaping, you’re sent into overdrive, since he crashes his lips into yours. the initial shock flickers out and you take in the jolts of electricity coming at you, the storm of repressed zeal and yearning unleashing between the two of you. it’s been so long and yet you can still remember how mark kisses- when he turns his head to nip at more of you, his arms link around your shoulders, and then the next time one hand cups your face, his thumb trailing up and down your jaw, and eventually his mouth strays away from yours, and he plants kisses all over your face, trailing down to your neck, and then… he doesn’t have to tell you he missed you for you to know.

you’ve seen him almost everyday since he’s come back- he likes to come over just to catch up on sleep in your room as you study. just so you can spend a little more time in your day with one another. there have been more cuddles, more back massages (you even gave him one this time), more sitting in his lap, and he even tries to pick up the skill of braiding your hair. so far, you’ve stuck to your resolution of not stealing pecks out of the blue- so the only thing there isn’t more of is kisses. it’s good, you think- you let him initiate and then you return, so you’re sure you don’t have to take him by surprise.

tonight, you’re in the middle of submitting an assignment, when you hear your phone ping from across the room. then it pings, again and again, in succession, and you’re about to go over and read the messages before it blows up into a full phone-call, the marimba ringtone blaring through the speakers.

it’s johnny, and in the split second before you answer the phone, you can only assume the worst has happened- you know mark’s with him, they had a company dinner to celebrate the end of their tour- what, did he get into an accident? did he pass out? did he-

“hello? y/n?” there’s a sense of urgency in his voice, and the curiosity is really starting to eat you alive.

“hey, john, what’s up? is everything okay?” you hear a groan in the background, and it turns into a long, howl-like wail that subsides into sob.

“yeah, uh, not really. you heard that? that’s uh, it’s mark. i think he’s had too much to drink, and it’s not like he’s never gotten drunk before, he’s definitely had more before, but i’ve never seen him this, uh-”

“is that y/n?!” you can hear mark hiccup, “y/n! baaaaaaby babe y/n!” he’s still crying, and you’re so worried. mark hasn’t really expressed much sadness ever since he returned, and most of the time he’s very frank with his emotions- so if he was ever sad about anything, you’d think you would’ve heard about it by now.

you can hear someone else shushing him, and johnny continues- “i think he really wants to see you right now, so can we just drop him off at yours? you can just text me your address, i don’t think he’s in a state of mind to give directions right now.” the sobbing is still ongoing, albeit a tiny bit more muted than it was before.

“um, yeah. of course. i’ll send it to you. is.. is he alright? what happened?”

“well, i’m not very sure, actually. he was fine at the start, and then started to get all giggly like he normally does when he’s had a few glasses, and then he had a tiny bit more, and got all sappy. and now we’re uh, we’re here. he does keep mentioning that he misses you, though. which i don’t get- since i’m pretty sure he spent the entire week with you, so….”

“right….okay. thanks johnny. has he like, thrown up or anything?”

“uhh, nope. don’t think so. hopefully he doesn’t. or hopefully he does. he’ll probably feel better after.”

“yeah. you can call me when you get here, i’ll buzz you in. see you!”

you hang up, and are left alone only with the many questions you have, and wow, you’ve never felt more nervous in your entire life. not when you did that interview for a scholarship, or when you had your finals, or when you drove for the first time. this imminent fear is much more terrifying- especially because you were under the presumption that you knew exactly what was happening. in everything else you feared the unknown, the uncertainty of it all, but this, you feel like you were supposed to know- you thought there was nothing between you and mark, thought he was just as transparent as you had been with him.

this week had been complete bliss for you, having him in close proximity again. you’re treasuring every moment with him much more now, holding everything right to your heart, actively storing every scene of him in your hippocampus for later viewing. what could’ve gone wrong? was that not enough? what’s changed? you can only wander around your apartment as your mind runs wild. is he stressed? is this some cathartic release? does he suddenly hate what he’s doing?

the wait is painfully long- almost making the four months without mark cease to nothing, and you try everything not to think about him. you submit the assignment, you try to beat your record on minesweeper, you watch a couple of youtube videos but lose interest, and text a close friend for emotional support. before the soul-crushing impatience can actually kill you, you hear the ringing on your intercom, and you’ve never pressed the accept button so fast.

you don’t even wait for them to ring your doorbell. that would just cause more delay. you open the door right away, and peek outside, and the lift doors burst open and mark’s whines reverberates along the tight corridor. johnny’s carrying him piggyback, and the sight of him like this makes you so, incredibly sad- it pulls at your heartstrings and you feel suffocated by the tightening hold that it has on you. if he wasn’t so upset, maybe you would’ve laughed at how cute and snug he looks stuck onto johnny’s back.

mark’s face morphs into a giddy smile when he sees you, letting out a garbled call for you, and you greet johnny as he slips his shoes off to carry him into the living room and plop him onto the couch. you begin to untie his shoe-laces so you can get his shoes off, and you sigh, “thanks so much for your help johnny. do you need anything? need a glass of water… or?”

“no, i’m good. taeil’s waiting downstairs, anyway.”

you walk him to the door with mark’s shoes, placing them right at the entrance. “right. well, um, thanks again! hope you guys get back safe. i’ll see you around.”

“yup, see you. hope he’ll be okay.”

the door is shut, and you can finally focus all your attention on the boy that’s caused you so much concern in the past thirty minutes. you sit right by his head on the couch, and when you try to get rid of the denim jacket he’s wearing, he stirs.

“baaabe?”

“hey, markie. what’s got you all upset?” you kneel on the floor so you can slip the jacket right off of him, and his swollen, tear-filled eyes are following you as you move. when you get close enough, you’re taken aback because he smooches you, missing your lips completely, and the sweet, gentle kiss lands on your chin.

it’s the first time he’s ever done that- first time he’s ever gone in for a kiss without you looking- and you have to sit and blink to try and figure out if you’re imagining things.

his hand reaches out for you, lips still puckered as he tries again and again to kiss you anywhere on your face, and as intriguing as it is, it’s more concerning since it’s mark. your mark- the one that didn’t really seem to like it when you did this, the one who pretty much repelled away from any of the sudden pecks you gave him.

you sweep his hair to the side, and before you can even try asking again, his hand falls limp, and he drawls, “you don’t wanna ki-kiss me anymore.” tears are starting to well in his eyes again, and you have to force yourself not to give up on how confusing this entire situation is.

“what? babe, who told you that?” you’re chuckling, but trying not to, because he’s literally about to cry ohmygodwhat.

“yoooooou,” he whines, “you haven’t kissed me since i, i got back!”

you brush a tiny droplet from his eye with the pad of your thumb, and then go back to stroking his hair. you try not to show your incredulity, but it’s a little hard when you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. “but i have! we even kissed yesterday, mark! remember?”

“yeaaah we kissed! but i kissed you.” he’s so funny- even as his eyes are closed and he faces the ceiling, he still has to point at himself and then at you when he says this, and then he pauses and continues, “you haven’t tried to kiss me since i left. like, reeeaaally tried. and i can’t figure out whhhhhy.”

oh. what?

“well, markie, right now i don’t really wanna kiss you since you’re kinda stinky,” you try to joke, but his eyes shut even tighter and he’s about to burst into tears again, “noooooo! i’ll go brush my teeth-”

“but didn’t you say you’re not used to it? i didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable. you didn’t seem to like it very much.”

“but i diiiiiid! i missed you so much when i was away,” a hiccup. “and then i felt so sad,” another hiccup. “because i remembered how sad you got the first time,” and another hiccup. “and then when i got back i was soooo excited for you to do it, so i could do it back to you, and you never did.” his mouth turns into a pout, and his nose sniffles.

this is what he was upset about? no way. there is no way he got so sad because you decided not to kiss him out of the blue anymore. it makes your heart swell in confusion- because, what the hell, mark is just, for the lack of a better word, so darn cute. you can’t believe that this, out of everything you could’ve had a miscommunication about, is what he was hiding from you.

“awwww, i’m sorry babe. i really thought you didn’t want me to.” you coo, and lean in closer to press your lips to his forehead. “look! i’ll give you sooo many right now!” you kiss him all over his face, and the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile, and he starts to giggle, complaining that it tickles.

“but why didn’t you tell me? i would’ve done it if you’d asked.” you begin to trace your finger all over his features, stopping at his nose to boop at it.

he heaves out a sigh, and you can tell he is a mere minute away from dozing off to sleep with how slowly he speaks, “i dunno, it just seemed silly to tell you. but this, it’s probably even sillier.”

you pinch at his nose. “yeah, i’m glad you know, mark.”

you know you once said that a small peck on the lips didn’t mean much to you, but right now, it’s your favourite way of showing him you care. just the thought of both of you unknowingly reciprocating the exact same yearning for each other is so amusing, and it gives you butterflies to know just how similar you are to one another. it’s more than simple skin on skin- it’s when two lines, so parallel and alike, tend towards one another and meet in an oblique. and though these lines have to part afterwards, they curve, bend, and loop to find their way back. you’ve never believed in infinity- it’s stupid to think that anyone or anything is completely limitless- but in this moment you can only wish for your lines to join and travel endlessly.

when you return with a face towel to wipe his dried tears and snot away, you give him your sweetest, last kiss goodnight.

a/n: ahhhhh lol sorry for taking a while for this update (if anyone's been waiting hahahah) i was busy with exams and decided to finally take a break to finish writing this! i've started to realise that every time i start writing i feel so accomplished, and then by the time i get to the end i just feel like the end product is disappointing aaghdaghag lol

1K notes · View notes

technologyculturedneo · 8 months

Text

SOS: Am I Alive?

“As long as I’m still here, you’re still my bitch.”

SUMMARY. Tending to commit crime and causing havoc, Mark and Haechan tagged along with their brothers find themselves trapped in a rich mansion with two spoilt wealthy girls. Dae and her sister Yezi pray for their father (Chenle) or even the police (Jaemin and team) to save them as they’ve failed to hold their own ground. With no saving arms in reach the girls end up submitting to all of the boys request, including degradation and demoralization- all in the name of preventing bloodshed.

PAIRING(s). Burglar, Delinquent!Mark, Haechan, Jeno, Renjun; Police!Jaemin, Jisung; Husband!Chenle, OC (original character)

GENRE. Longshot. Angst. Crime. Strangers to lovers. Smut (non-consensual).

WARNINGS. Alcohol, smoking, marijuana use, toxic relationship, family, swearing, s content (non con, choking, restrains, intercourse, degradation)

Read next: SOS: Poison In My Mind

S1: E1-7

"But mum I've got tickets-"

"Even if you have tickets, the answer is still no if you don't place all your assignments on my desk." Our step mum, Chungdae, drones out like a machine to my 16 year old sister, Yezi, while focusing her mind on preparing a meal for my dad. “Just because you’re homeschooled shouldn’t give you the right to flunk on your assignments whenever you want.”

"Come one mum, Professor Doyoung said it'd be okay if I hand in my work on Monday. Which means, I still have today, tomorrow to finish the work." Yezi points off her fingers seemingly desperate in trying to convince mum. “Come on mum,”

“I’m not off. And I don’t care how many days you have. Those are my rules. You’re not going anywhere until your work is on my desk. All of your work.”

One thing Yezi tremendously fails at doing is trying to get mum to say yes to anything. Already knowing that, it would be fair to not even approach mum with any proposal, unless of course it’s educational content- not some kpop meet and greet.

"Come on mum. You let Dae do it all the time. It’s not fair." Yezi nags, slowly losing her cool and temper. But mum is immune to it all by moving back and forth from the cooking book to the pot on the stove that’s steaming hot.

Pointing my fork, that has a pineapple slice, to Yezi, I chip in to defend myself. "That's because I'm in college, responsible and go to events that actually benefit me in the future." Yezi rolls her eyes. "Not what you do-"

"That's because you're boring. B O R I N G. Boring." Yezi deadpans leaning over the kitchen counter, blocking my mum from reading the ingredients book with her hand. “And mum you don’t need this book. I hate all the dishes here-”

“It’s for dad you idiot.” I remark getting irked by her nagging tone. “Not you.”

“Did I ask you?”’

“I don’t need your consent to speak.” I counter back munching on the rest of my pineapple salad.

Mum picks up the homemade cooking book that Mrs Chittaphon gave her, a book given in order to prepare new and cultured dishes for my dad.

Mrs Chittaphon is our Thai neighbor who over the weekends (for free) teaches Yezi how to speak Thai. She’s also the person I blame for influencing Yezi in a lot of weird eastern side culture. Not that it's a bad thing to learn about another culture, but I think it’s personally annoying hearing Yezi continuously watch 'Thailand dramas' and claim that their history facts are all that.

But regardless, at this point Mrs Chittaphon is almost like family, simply because she's Thai who speaks Chinese and is familiar with Chinese culture- and we're half Korean half Chinese, who speak no Chinese or Thai.

I think my dad just wants us to keep the ‘Chinese culture’ by being with someone of our own, and someone like Mrs Chittaphon who speaks many languages being Korean, English, Thai and Chinese. Her presence is essential to my dad, as he gets the piece of mind that culture is not lost. So thus, she's almost like family. Almost...mostly to my dad and Yezi, to me and mum she's a mean lady from Thailand who's married to a monk man, Mr Chittaphon. Or as we like to call him Ten, because it takes 10 seconds for him to curse us out whenever we step foot on his perfectly trimmed garden whenever we visit.

The reason Mrs Chittaphon is so close to us, is because my dad mentioned that it would be nice if mum learnt a few Chinese dishes, so that he would feel more at home instead of eating salads and unseasoned Korean diet meat. The other reason is so that mum could also become 'friends' with Mrs Chittaphon and learn Chinese. Which is impossible, the lady and her husband basically hate mum- having to do with the reason that she’s my dad’s second wife and that she knows nothing about China. Can they blame her, she’s never been to China before, she’s full Korean and knows very well about her motherland, our motherland.

Fine culture is what graces our lives, yet mum is more humbled and not as flashy as dad, me and Yezi.

"Sweety don't call your sister boring," mum says distantly, trying to focus on the ingredient list. Crinkles appear on her forehead when holding garlic and ginger. “Which one is it?” She mutters.

"Okay fine mum, I promise before 4 p.m. I'll get all my homework done and it’ll be on your desk ready for Professor Doyoung who'll come Monday. Then can I go?" She proposes with perky attitude. Shaking my head and placing my bowl in the sink washing it- I wonder on the final verdict from my mum.

"You can go. As long as Dae goes with you."

"Oh my fucking god. What?"

“Language Yezi.”

"I don't wanna go to her stupid thing." After drinking my glass of water, I turn around drying my hands. “It’s useless to me.”

"Mum she can't go! She'll ruin the whole thing!" A frown and sharp stare attacks Yezi’s eyes as we stare brutally at each other. “Just look at her.”

"Oh come on sweety she won't ruin the whole thing-"

"Yes she will!" Yezi boils out and screeches- catching us by surprise. "Come on mum, she's the best at all she does and all she does is make people hate her!"

"Sweety don't say that about your sister-"

"Mum I don't even want people thinking we're related!" Yezi exclaims again. "I could get stoned for knowing someone like her."

"You pissy brat!" I throw a spoon at her to which she dodges and throws back her shoe.

"Girls! Girls!" Mum stands in front of me. "Dae you're 19 years old, act your age, you're too old for partaking in this behavior."

"Tell her again, and don’t forget to mention she’s too old to still be living in her parents house." Yezi folds her arms fuming. "Mum pay attention to me leave her alone," She whines again.

Cooling down, I take a seat down on top of the counter and fold my arms glaring at her. "Why are you screaming when she's right here? You're so annoying."

"And you suck."

I roll my eyes mocking her tone. "You suck."

"Ugh! I'll just have to go ask dad," She huffs.

"Sweety, don't. Listen. He came in late last night. Let him him rest." Rigidly leaving the ingredient book on the counter, mum walks to Yezi holding her shoulders.

Our dad, Zhong Chenle, an infamous Architect designer and real estate agent for his own housing and company creations. He works around the world designing and building houses for rich and partly famous people, he showcases a lot of his work in London, the States and China, thus making him constantly on the move and travelling. Being the heir to the family business, he’s often on work mode and hardly gets time to rest. On the days that he does have time to catch a break, he prefers to spend it with us, yet mum advices and convince him to catch a break before engaging with the family.

Right now if Yezi had to go to him, disrupting his sleep, he would allow for her to go to that meet and greet and also for her to go alone because of the guilt he feels for not being around- if anything Yezi has a sharp tongue and can make anyone upset with her words. Unfortunately, my dad is weak to that. He’d even go as far as giving her extra money to waste. There’s always something about him throwing money at us to cover the guilt he’s feeling, it somehow makes us all feel better. It’s something dad constantly does, to the point where I also believe that throwing money at all my problems will make them mysteriously hush down. But seriously, money talks and has the ability to shut out all the guilt. So even though mum doesn’t like that we disrupt him from his sleep and make him feel guilty, we still prefer to run up to him just to get the dad bank. If we don't bother him then who will?

"I want all your homework on my desk before 4 pm and you’re going with Dae end of discussion." Mum says walking back to the counter and book.

Yezi's face becomes as red as a chili pepper about to explode. She stomps her way out the kitchen- like every other time when things don’t go her way.

"Oh shame are you going to cry because things aren’t going your way again? Spoilt brat." I mumble the last part when her door slams loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. “Such a brat.”

Mum lets out a breath going back to her station. She clears her throat, "Your sister is something else. It feels like she’s a riffle gun just shooting out nonstop." She sighs. "I wonder how your mother did it."

I smile at her. "You know mum, you're too nice for your own good. You need a back bone,"

"What do I do now?"

"Don't give up. Just have a little more strength and stop treating her like a baby, she's already spoilt." I hug her from behind hanging my head on her shoulder. I don't like seeing her stressed out because of Yezi or anything. She's a really good woman who I've grown to love. “Plus, dad will enjoy this dish. You know he loves it tradition style,”

“Yezi said he’d hate it.” She laughs a little, "I am glad that she's not the only child."

"And I'm glad that my dad remarried,"

Haechan, a young thug, drives to his usual parking spot which is by a small arena venue. He isn't expecting a mob of girls to be flooded at the parking rentals. Turns out there is an occasion this evening, in the small assembly.

It’s in the afternoon when he parks his car, and together with his partner in crime Mark, they carefully snuggle into the cars around to get out a ‘thing or two’. Easy money is following a large crowd and getting lost in a sea of people. So while Haechan only came to park his car, he found himself staying longer because this spot right here was gold free of charge. And as the sun slights sets Haechan and Mark’s eyes peer over at all the girls that leave the venue. “Who are we gonna rob?” Mark enquires having his eyes fixed on the cheer filled girls leaving the arena and entering their cars- some of which Haechan and Mark had already stolen from.

Now the sun is out of sight and the once fully packed arena is now almost vacant with about 8 or 9 cars. Throughout the wait, he and Mark drink light beer beverages and smoke in the car to not draw any attention to themselves. The only thoughts in their head is who to rob next.

After the meet and greet: 6pm on the dot.

"OMG did you see the way he looked at me!" Yezi squeals beside me jumping up and down with all her gift bags and posters in her hand.

"Please there were 3 other girls behind you whose breast were practically begging for attention,"

"Do you enjoy sucking the fun out everything or are you naturally a bitch?" Yezi sends sharp eyes in my direction but I ignore her. I'm missing out on spending time with my friends for her stupid meet and greet and she's bitching. "You're negative because they didn't look at you,"

"Neither did I." I fake a smile going back to texting my friends in our group chat.

The event went successfully well and was kind of fun, as much as I don't want to admit. A lot of girls were there wearing nothing but the most revealing of clothes, few were decent but majority were overruled by revealing clothes. Yezi wore a black jumpsuit with a white top inside- upon seeing the styles in which the girls were dressed in she nagged and whined about how she should've worn a skirt too. I on the other hand wore all black, long sleeved shirt and high waist skirt with my black knee high socks and black boots. I dressed up, because I was still going out and thought I might as well be presentable. But eventually after getting bored, I found myself outside texting with my friends and waiting for Yezi. But now that she’s done, I have to multi task in ‘talking/ignoring’ her as well as texting my friends.

Hendry: u still out?

Me: Yep and my sisters bitching

Hendery: send her over, we've got an ancient Chinese healing that will whip her back into shape

Xioujun: I wonder why ur sister likes those type of music- Chinese melodies is where it's at!

Yangyang: You guys clearly haven't heard of WAP. That’s literally where it’s at.

I end up sending a message to my dad once Yezi is done mingling and getting contacts with some of the other girls. Feeling lazy to walk to the bus stop or order an uber and listen to my sister talk non stop about her experience that's not even interesting- I text up my dad.

"Are we walking?"

"No, I sent dad a message." I answer. "He'll be here soon,"

Yezi sighs joyously staring out into the empty. "Imagine I marry him and become Mrs Min-" I burst out laughing at what Yezi says.

"That name is awful. It sounds like that house cleaning product Mr Min,"

"Dae you are so heartless. Every time I try to talk about the things I like you shut me down."

I roll my eyes but stop halfway when catching something behind her. A guy. He’s leaning on a wall, drinking on a glass bottle of what looks like Terra beer. Chugging a mouthful of the alcohol- he downs the remaining in one gulp. He does all that with his eyes on me... Uneasiness washes over me. But I try to ignore it.

The event ended half an hour ago resulting with majority of the fans and people leaving. There’s only a few people loitering around outside the building and inside as well. Yezi and I are part of the few inside the building sitting on the vacant chairs, as the workers clean up... so maybe that’s why he’s looking at us...at me. Maybe because he works here and is possibly a manger trying to lock up...otherwise it wouldn’t make sense why he’s looking at me.

The man downing down his beer for a living propels himself to lean on the wall. He looks zoned out and not here, yet his whole figure screams out that he’s not acting normal. He’s got such a defined face, and his eyes although small are distinctively on me. My heart beats in speed when he tilts his head to the side his eyes going down my sitting figure-

“It’s like you don’t even care about me.”

Yezi’s voice brings me out of the trance I seemed to have gotten myself in with that guy. Peeking back only for a little bit, his lip curls up into a sly smirk. This time he preys open another can taking a big gulp of the can still with his eyes on me. I gulp down and look away feeling uncomfortable watching him drink on while using me as some sort of muse for him to watch.

“Earth to Dae? Hello?”

Shaking my head and blinking my eyes away from the guy, I pane my view back to Yezi only to be irritated by the sight of her face- which is so close.

“Look Yezi, if I don't care, I don't care. Go marry that cleaning product and leave me alone."

"That's his name." She says clinching her jaw and looking away while shaking her head. “And I wasn’t even talking about that.”

“Yezi piss off, I’m busy.” My eyes focus on the chats sliding up by every new incoming message.

Trying not to mind the drunk gaze that heavily lingers on, I try to focus on the chats. I finally relax and we fall in deep silence. She takes selfies with her items while I chat on, but then she stops, her eyes looking back occasionally.

"Dae," she whispers my name.

"Hmm,"

"Is it me or has that guy been looking at us?" She tilts her head nudging to the side. I follow her head and my eyes land on that guy again. This time he’s seated on one of the chairs.

He’s seating backwards on it, while leaning his drowsy head on his arms as his lazy eyes directly rest on me. Our eyes meet again, and just like before, he doesn’t back away maintaining a firm stare. Aside from this present moment, a part of me feels like I’ve seen him before. His jet black hair and his buff build being contained by the leather jacket he has- only enhances his appearance as if I’ve seen him before.

"Uh let's go outside and wait for dad." I end up saying feeling a bit creeped when his eyes begin to travel down my body.

Yezi and I make our way outside instantly spotting one of our dad's black vehicle’s pulling in. "Thank the heavens." Yezi begins jogging towards the car, while I take my time walking on the parking lot- afraid I might slip with my high boots if I run.

However I quickly regret my decision when hearing faint whistle sounds. My head turns to the side spotting an almost faded rusty car, with some guys whistling out. “Yes babygirl, fuck, yes,” A guy moans out looking at me. “Just like that, fuck-”

“Shut the hell up.” The bitter tone of my dad can be heard resonating out the car, and I can only assume he’s talking to the boys because no sooner then later, they let out mocking laughs.

“Fucking sexy girl,” The rude insolent boy comments again. Getting to the car, I finally get in the front seat hearing the boys whistling grow louder in praises. “Yes baby,”

“What- what-” My dad’s about to get out his seat and open the door but I close it shaking my head. As irritating as it is, I can’t have my dad about to lose his mind on his day off.

“Dad, just ignore it. They’re a bunch of low, poor class, hooligans who don’t deserve an ounce of our energy.” I fiercely comment. “Are you really gonna get mad, when they’re car looks like that? They’re not worth it dad. It’s okay.”

My dad’s sharp glare leaves the window as he takes a deep breath and looks to Yezi behind. Yezi’s eyes immediately calm down and she tries to change the atmosphere in the car. “Dae’s right dad, besides look what I got! San threw it to the crowd and I caught it!” She announces brightly- easily getting my dad to smile tightly. The anger and irritation still evident on his face- yet it fades for Yezi’s sake.

"What did you get?" He asks with a clear genuine interest, even though his eyes shoot glares towards the car once more time before he drives off. Meanwhile the question sends Yezi over the top as she basically starts to yell about the event pointing at her items.

My dad laughs surprisingly being stunned by the ‘shirt’ Yezi caught, as he drives out the venue. I look out the window shaking my head and not wanting to listen. I end up making eye contact with the guys who made those idiotic comments. One of the guys licks his lips and sends me an air kiss. I fake a smirk his way giving him the middle finger mouthing out 'fuck yourself' before rolling up my tinted window.

He laughs and slowly waves.

Creeps.

Minutes before...

A luxurious black Range Rover slowly drives past Haechan’s small red and rusty old car, catching his attention behind the wheel. He stares at the big car as it drives past and stops by a parking space. “This is it.” He mumbles.

Something about the way this car carries itself turns Haechan on.

"What a sexy car," Haechan's cold eyes checks out the car mumbling out praises. Sternly looking at the black posh Range Rover he adjusts himself on his seat wanting to see clearer. "Mark, Mark look at the car, look at the car." He whispers out.

Mark, on the passenger seat adds more ‘relaxation’ to Haechan’s high when he blows gusts of weed into the air, before placing the bunt between his lips inhaling again. With all the windows up, the smell lofts around the car leaving the boys in all zooted smiles and high. Mark turns to the spotted car that Haechan motions to and sits up.

Just like Haechan, he’s struck by the glossiness of the car. Seeing the lavish car, his head lights up with another idea. “This night is already beginning with a bang.” Mark comments.

In the back seat Renjun, Haechan's adopted brother, tries to sleep with his head against the window, with his neck in an uncomfortable angle as he half listens to what the two in front were talking about, while also keeping his nose stuffed in his mask to avoid the weed smell. Unlike Mark and Haechan, Renjun only wanted a ride from campus and back home, and was not a part of their crew. To his surprise, he was dragged everywhere and witnessed the menacing actions and robberies his brother performed.

The two juvenile boys, Mark and Haechan watch the car as their minds wonder darkly in the same orbit. They give each other mischievous smiles, having the same idea. "Are you in?"

"Let me finish my bunt," Haechan snickers just as Mark puffs out another wave of smoke out in the car. “Here comes Jeno, he looks drunk as fuck.”

Jeno, Mark's young brother stumbles into the rusted car in silence.

“Geez man, how much did you drink?” Mark turns to his brother in the back seat catching his drowsy state. Before Jeno can answer, his eyes look out the front window getting a glimpse of the last two young girls leaving the center and going towards a Range Rover. A few minutes ago, he found himself inside the building drinking can after can without his brother’s watch, meanwhile his eyes also kept still on the two girls lounging around. Most specifically, he kept his eyes on a girl named Dae. His mind wondering around on how it must feel to be rich.

"This night keeps getting sexier, look at those girls Haechan," Mark breathlessly chuckles.

Mark’s gaze holds onto the girls, or rather the one trailing behind with her arms folded and her hips moving hypnotically. Her skirt is short and shows a portion of her milky legs, and the way she walks seems almost too purposely- otherwise his pants wouldn’t be bugging so much. Maybe it’s the weed, but he’s pushed into ecstasy wanting to have the girl.

“I need to have that,” He opens his door, stepping a foot out, leaning over the doorframe and begins whistling. “Hey babygirl, come over for a bit?”

“Mark get in the car-” Haechan starts laughing when the man in the fancy rich car gives them a sharp look, glaring at them.

Mark, despite the warning, ignores the gnawing and death eyes of the man continuously cat calling the girl. “Yes baby fuck, yes,” He moans, his hand patting his bulging member. “Just like that-” Profanity words can be heard from the car however that doesn’t stop Mark from hooting his mouth towards the girl, leaking his lustful comments. The girl even goes further to ignoring him. “Fucking sexy girl,” The moment she gets into the car Mark- like the dog he is hypes her every moment whistling out and praising her. “Oh yes, yes, yes, bend that body for me. Oh- oh yes, just like that, fuck. Yes baby,”

The posh car abruptly stops once the girl closes the door and Mark can see the man in the car trying to come out. Must be the father. Mark takes on the challenge now directing his attention to the supposed father. “Big boy wanna come out? Come out big boy,”

“Idiot,” Haechan is bowling in laughter when Mark gets back in the car, closing his door shut chortling a little when nothing happens.

“2 baddies,” Mark comments inhaling the bunt getting high again. “And a grumpy man,”

“Mark you fucking shit head.” Haechan finally calms down from his goofy laugh. He drinks his last can of beer in one big gulp letting out a strong groan by the substance hitting his throat bitterly- yet tasty. “Let me get in on some of that,” He sticks his hand out to Mark, who offers him to take a huff and puff of his weed. Haechan gives back the stick shaking his head exhaling out.

Haechan rolls down his window with force while applying speed wanting to see the fuming pretty girl in the massive car more clearly. Mark chortles rolling down his murky window too, wanting to see her face. "Ah, fuck, she’s so sexy," Mark puffs out from his weed bunt again. "Jeno you seeing this?"

Renjun’s eyes are grave serious when looking at the mess the two boys in the front wheel caused. “Is that Dae? What the hell are these two idiots doing cat calling her like that?” He quietly asks to Jeno, who’s is extremely quiet yet drunk. “You need water.”

Jeno watches on, stuffing his hands in his leather jacket while looking out the window to the car and ignoring Renjun's words.

"She's looking, she's looking," Haechan gets on cloud 9 sitting up on his seat and blows her an air kiss. Jeno in a calm daze watches her, she casually throws her middle finger up in the air.

"Who taught her to do that?" Mark asks taking a whiff of his bunt and puts it in his mouth breathing in. “Rich bitch,”

Haechan laughs bitterly, "Daddy's little rich princess."

“I’d love to be her daddy,”

"Can you guys stop that. She’s got enough intel to call the police on you guys. Her and her father." The 'sleepy' Renjun states in a raspy sour voice as he watches the girl in question roll-up her window. He suddenly sits up groping his neck in pain. “You should just be lucky they didn’t get your number plate.”

"You know the girl?" Mark asks in bewilderment.

"Yes. Dae, proud, top of her class, rich, narcissist. We go to the same college," He enlightens both Mark and Haechan. “Her father is a real pioneer. He’s known to have built some faculty buildings on our campus, as well as upstate houses and penthouses in extremely rich areas.”

“He said rich right?” Haechan chortles. “Rich bitch,”

“I don’t know about rich, but I would love to teach that brat a lesson,” Mark scoffs throwing his finished bunt out the window, already beginning to roll up another one. “She should learn to respect her elders,”

"Let’s just go home." Jeno speaks up with an irritated throat and throbbing head, either trying to deprive the older ones dirty thoughts into something else or, away from Dae.

The Range Rover already begins to drive out the entrance gate, causing Donghyuck to quickly start up his own small car, with a little rustle his car starts. “We’ve been waiting all afternoon for something. Should we follow it?” He peeks in Mark’s direction who nods his head.

Haechan and Mark exchange quirky looks again recalling their initial plan.

While Jeno and Renjun share worried looks, Renjun is the one to voice out a question that seems to already be answered the moment the car starts moving in a similar direction as the classy car. “Donghyuck, what are you doing? Why are you following the car?”

"If it’s not already clear,” Donghyuck, just a few cars behind the black vehicle watches as it takes a left turn to a road he’s never gone on before. “I want that car."

"Don't forget to do the dishes Yezi!" Mum reminds while forcing her foot in a pair of white heels going together with her sun dress. “Do I look okay?”

I nod my head watching her frantically moving around her wardrobe looking for a scarf or jacket.

"Don't forget okay. I left sticky notes on the fridge and in the cooking book." Mum says running around her room making sure all her stuff are in her carrier bag. “Don’t leave Daegal outside, nowadays she seems to like being outside,”

"Don't worry mum, Yezi and I will be fine. Besides, Dad will be here." I point behind her to dad who's putting on his black blazer. “It’s not like we’ve been left motherless before,” I darkly joke, causing dad to peek up from his phone shaking his head. “What? Too soon?” I chuckle.

“Yes honey I will be here, stop freaking out,” Dad states while going back on his phone. “She’s arrived at the airport, c’mon let’s go.”

Him and mum are going to the airport where Mrs Chittaphon is at.

Mrs Chittaphon mentioned that she was going to China for a few weeks and offered to take mum along with her, dad gladly accepted on mum’s behalf. It was exciting at first since dad thought he could go too, but Mrs Chittaphon sternly said she wanted mum, so not wanting to ‘disappoint’(?) Mrs Chittaphon she agreed to going. Still scary and shocking since they don't get along that well, but my dad assured mum that it would be a bonding experience.

Escorting mum with her bags, we follow dad out to the garage as he selects a car. Switching on the brown Jaguar with the remote he opens up the boot while mum and I fill the boot with her bags. Our little dog, Daegal barks around the tires of the wheel keeping my dad in a smiling trance as he looks down at her. Daegal loves this car the most. This is like a special car for them, since this is the car he had when he was still in the dating phase with my mum and he got Daegal for the first time too.

Yezi finally comes out the parking with silk pink pajama shorts and a merch t-shirt with a face of one of the guys we saw today... it’s probably the shirt they tossed out and she caught. When we came back from the venue Yezi went straight to her room, posting pictures and unwrapping her merch. She has been there ever since asking for nobody to disturb her, but yet as soon as my dad starts the car she's out the house. She gives dad a tight hug and walks over to us. She smiles and gives mum a big and tight hug. "Have fun in that country with no internet. We'll miss you and also thank you for letting me go," she let's go of mum and looks at me sticking out here tongue. "I hate you and I still think you're annoying."

"The feeling is mutual." l I can't hide my grin. I know Yezi loves me. “Isn’t that the cleaning supply husband you wanted to marry?” She hits my shoulder mumbling profanities going back in the house.

"Guys don’t fight.” Mum lets out closing the boot and turning to me. “I guess this is it," mum says.

"Don't say it like that, we'll see each other in like a few weeks time." I open the front door for her and she gets in. I bend down to see dad in the car busy with Daegal on his lap while massaging mum’s hand.

“Why are you shaking,” Dad laughs teasingly. “Daegal, why are you shaking? I wanna know, I wanna know,” He plays with the dog on his lap gently setting her in the backseat. I guess he's taking her with him.

"Dae make sure to lock the house and close the front door, I left it open for Daegal to enter, but she’s already here. Make sure Yezi sleeps on time, she's got a bad habit of sleeping past midnight," Mum says rubbing her hands together looking to dad. "Okay,"

"I'm coming soon." Dad says and drives out. I head back in the house looking at the control panel waiting until I hear the car out the driveway. Meanwhile I switch on the lights outside. When I hear the car drive out I press the button that closes the garage.

Haechan's car comes to a stop, parking down the road and away watching from afar. They’ve been seated in the car for some time, simply taking in the view of the enchanting residence. The neighborhood is built on exquisite land and even the air itself smells different. All the boys in astonishment take in the sight of the various mansions around.

Haechan blames it on the cream sunset that slowly sets behind the dwelling place of the deluxe rich family, creating a luxurious and costly aura around the house, for him to be taken aback and in almost tears. “This is bank,” He mumbles already scheming inside his head.

The house the boys arrive at is everything one would desire. A palace, a fortress, a gold dripping tap with four stories stacked high adorning lavish balconies and vast verandas covered by gardened fence built on polished bricks- even the garden itself was cultivated, refined and neat. The design, the layout of the house, is something out of a novel, a comic book, a past that with held old money and a future that would take over the rich. The scenery itself is ingenious and and screams out rich. The house itself looks grand and high class, even the heavily guarded gates are artistic with the layers of polished Chinese ancient styled stone.

Jeno, partly drunk looks out his window to a particular floor on the house- the one which he knows is her room. Dae. She was breathtaking and he couldn't help but become attached to her. What started off as something small, turned into stalking. He didn't consider it to be stalking until he realized that he had more pictures of her in his photography collection them anything else.

Following Renjun one time to school, he found himself becoming obsessed with Dae and her charming glow. There was something about her that he couldn’t put his finger on. Although arrogant and proud, she seemed like the type of person to wear a mask of faces, and that’s what made Jeno curious about her ever since. He followed her once or twice back home escaping her glances- the days he followed her was when she would sneak some guy back to her place. Those where the only days where she’d walk from school to home. It only took one to three trips for the sight of her house to be so deeply engraved in Jeno’s mind.

He took pictures of the neighborhood and her house, in particular her room when the curtains where open. It was tough taking from the ground level especially since the house was tilted high- but taking pictures none the less only made him fascinated, especially whenever she was by her window. He’d snap a shot avoiding any preying eyes. Whenever he would take a picture of the residence he was greatly reminded and would feel belittled by the differences between their two worlds.

Their house itself was a stone mark of being high in status and above everyone else. In some parts, Renjun was telling the truth when he said she’s a narcissist. It came out naturally for her because her family is beyond rich and wealthy, they’ve entered god mode. It’s something she tried not to show to others lower then her, but it still showed by her appearance. She was prideful and like Haechan said, a rich princess in her daddies castle.

“How long are we gonna sit here?” Jeno asks when the throbbing pain slowly kicks in is head. He leans forward on his seat taking the can of beverage in the cup holder. Picking it up, he drinks on it letting out a satisfied grunt. Being an alcoholic had it’s perks. He’d drink and feel woozy for a certain amount of time before returning to a hinged conscious version of himself- even though he’d still be tipsy, he’d still be conscious. Right now more than anything, he wanted to be unconscious of the actions he knew his brother and friend would take.

Mark and Haechan hold similar thoughts being, tonight would be a fortuitous night. 'The bigger the better' Mark always said. The mansion is situated on the far side and Southern hills of the city. In this area all the house's are far away from each other, almost by a bridge gap, but yet this house is steep and the highest on the hill sitting at the top. It should’ve scared the boys away, but for some reason Mark and Haechan were determined. They’ve only robbed one floored houses, and to at some point robbed apartments- yet looking at the wide spread mansion and all it’s charms, they know this is something new for them and should tread carefully.

"Until the sun goes down. We wouldn’t want god to disturb our luck,” Haechan mumbles with lustful eyes, raping the house bare. “Rich people," He scoffs. "They just can't relax without making the rest of us feel like shit," His awestruck emotions quickly turn sour after digesting the house for way too long.

While following the Range Rover they had to refuel, almost got lost, nearly got pulled over by the police- twice! At some point there was a security border gate for the area of houses situated on the hill, fortunately for them, Mark who was already used to cracking safe boxes, put his skill to the test when entering a 4 digit code. He got it wrong 2 times, but was lucky on his third try.

Despite all the drawbacks, it seemed like the mansion they were going to rob wanted to be robbed- nothing held them back at this point. It was all worth it since the prize would lead to a glorious landscape of house. "They've never walked a day in our shoes, might as well teach 'em a lesson," Mark runs his fingers through his dark hair that was unevenly cut with scissors.

The mansion is perfect for the plans Mark and Haechan had. Jeno, still half drunk, saw it as an opportunity to get closer to Dae and see where she lived up close. His fantasies coming to life.

"Guys this is wrong. Please can you just turn the car around and let’s go home. Please." Renjun on the other hand, the only one feeling petrified for his life, urges the boys for them to snap out of their high and return home. Never in his life has he ever gone through the motions of being mad- but right now in this car he felt as though he’d gone mad. How is he the only one to realize that this is wrong?! The only one sober and trying to wake up the conscious of the drunk and high guys. "Guys you need to snap out of it!" Renjun fusses getting quiet and then louder by the second. "You know the embassy will send me back to China if I get caught in this mess. Or worse, we could all be sent to jail! Donghyuck!”

"Jail isn't a place I'm afraid of." Haechan leans back in his seat, eyes dead set on watching the house. “Besides, we didn’t do anything yet. Stop crying like a little bitch.”

"Jeno! Don't tell me you're also going along with this?" Renjun asks his friend, confused and shocked that he too would even consider what the others were thinking.

"Renjun I’m just sitting. Please stop screaming in my ear-" Jeno pushes Renjun off his side. “Just enjoy the view-”

"No!" Renjun yells again gaining a glare from his brother in front.

"Listen here you twat. You're only here for a ride so shut up," Haechan glares at his brother from the rearview mirror.

"No Donghyuck! You know this is wrong. Mum can't handle any more of your troubles." Renjun points at the silent and not interested Mark. “Mark, do something, why are you allowing this to happen? It’s all your fault why we’re here. Just say something, anything and Donghyuck will listen to you.”

Mark thought about the fortress and also wondered about the girls, in particular the one with the stunning legs. His fantasies already playing out like a movie in his head. Waiting outside felt like hell especially since he had to bounce his knee to ignore the poking in his pants. Rolling up another wrapped weed bunt, he smoked it and let the lucid fantasies play out in his mind.

Feeling and groping her body, her breast, her ass, those juicy thighs- tearing off her clothes from her body and slapping her around until she was red. Choking her while his fingers worked inside her slippery wet pussy. He could almost feel the stickiness between his fingers and how good they’d taste in his mouth. Grabbing her by her long hair and making her suck his long cock and-

"Mark!”

His head jerks away from the distant thoughts hearing a wailing Renjun in the backseat. “Why can’t I have my thoughts in peace?” He mutters turning his head to Haechan. “Did you really have to bring your orphaned brother here? He’s starting to piss me off.”

Renjun abruptly cuts Haechan before he can even speak. “You turned Donghyuck and Jeno into thugs-"

"Listen up you ass whip, I didn't change anyone. The thug life chose Haechan and as for Jeno," Mark smirks at his young brother, who watches the house intensely. "He liked what I offered."

Mark rolls up another weed bunt feeling good and settling himself to be comfortable to let his imaginations wonder off again.

"Besides, do you see any police around? Live a little Injun," Mark smiles while licking the edge of the wrapper of his bunt. “Now shut the fuck up.”

"It's Renjun. And we’re all going to go to-"

"I’m gonna say this once, since you didn’t catch me clearly. I said shut the fuck up. If I repeat myself again I’ll deport you back myself to the border that you jumped over." Mark sits upright on the seat and turns to Haechan once dismissing a defeated Renjun once he’s finished making his weed bunt. "Do I look high?"

“Nah you’re good.”

“Good.” Mark nods his head stashing his wrapped weed bunt in his pocket along with a packet of cocaine from the dashboard.

“What’s that for?” Jeno in the back asks curiously.

“My dear brother, this is for when the fun will begin.” Mark drapes his black hoody over head. “What are we waiting for?”

"Nothing." Haechan replies leaning over to his side opening the dash panel, grabbing and gripping his pistol by its edge taking some bullets. He fixes his snapback on over his black lengthy hair, making sure his eyes are covered.

"Jeno you coming?" Mark asks.

"Mmhm." Jeno silently replies making Renjun’s jaw drop.

“I thought you said you’re not gonna-”

“I just wanna see inside the house.”

Renjun scoffs. “And you’re saying that confidently as if you know that you’ll excel in getting in the house.”

“Hey border jumper,” Mark slurs on Renjun with a cocky laugh. “If you could jump over from your country to here, what makes you think we can’t do just that?”

Renjun humphs. “Because this isn’t some country you can jump into. This is a freaking house- a house you can’t get caught in! This is Zhong Chenle’s house-”

“I don’t give a fuck of who this Zhong Zhong guy is. Clearly he’s also a border jumper-”

“He is a multi millionaire. This home is a line straight to hell if you get caught in it!”

“Clearly you don’t know me or your brother.” Mark chuckles picking at his own gun. “I gracefully walk into prison when I’m caught. Besides, what will a border jumper do to me? Haechan, I like your brother.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, finding the whole encounter between Mark and Renjun hilarious. He’s partly sober, yet also partly drunk, but one thing in his mind that’s clear, is the mansion. “That house is calling my name, are you ready?”

“Yeah.” Mark confirms and Jeno simply sticks out his thumb, taking another can of beer in his pocket.

"One more thing," Haechan says. "Let's use codes instead."

"Mark." Mark says not bothering with a nickname knowing that none of them ever called him. “You don’t even have to call my name, just look at me and I’ll understand what you need. Jeno?”

"Uhm, I don't have one."

"How about Zeno?" Haechan suggestions making Jeno breathlessly laugh.

“You really hate me, don’t you.” Referring to a nickname Jeno once gave himself when he was young. Zeno Zee The Zuperzero.

"Okay then Zeno and Haechan." Haechan points to himself turning to Renjun. "Stay in the car and if you wanna piss do it outside, not inside."

"What are you even saying? You guys do know you're gonna get in trouble? Big trouble. Donghyuck you can't be serious. Are you guys really going in there?" Renjun asks but no one answers him, they all leave the car treading carefully along the sides of the neighborhood before making it to the edges of the house.

“It’s either I’m high or this house is fucking huge.” Mark mumbles looking up the walls. Seeing no sharp barricades he pats Donghyuck. “Let’s climb over the wall.”

As the wall is built on furnished stone, they find it simple to go over the wall with their climbing skills, jumping down to the soft grass. Briefly chuckling amongst themselves and preying closer to the house.

Haechan being the lead, walks along the sides of the house deciding to move to the back. The front door was off limits knowing that they would immediately get caught, even though it was wide open they couldn't do it. The temptation too real.

The boys crouch by the wall of the house reaching a large back open space with a covered swimming pool. "How do we get in?" Jeno asks, his heart pounding loud from the adrenaline rush he felt.

“C’mon,” Haechan speaks as though he’s been around the house before. One thing Haechan always knew about breaking and entering houses, was that the layout was always the same. Small houses had joined sets, while big house had disjoined sets. Meaning that either everything was outside, or it was all inside. And by the tough exterior of this mansion, Haechan knows it’s a joined house. He just had to find another opening- and as if luck is truly on their side he spots a long drive way with a garage and right at the bottom there’s a little box. “Bingo.” He nods his head. “You got a knife?”

“Always,” Mark nods his head understanding that he needs to defuse the box, to make it easier to enter. Whether their are security camera’s or not, Mark and Haechan continue by chance.

“What if they catch us?” Jeno asks wondering why everything felt easy.

“It’s always like this.” Haechan speaks lowly. “Rich people with such high security, don’t really think they’ll get robbed and so they don’t keep their guards up. They think that nobody else is around them- so why look around when they can only look up? The only problem, is that they don’t see the troubles down below.”

“It seems too easy.” Jeno mumbles chuckling.

“They’re never prepared for the unexpected.” Haechan speaks again. “They think, their untouchable. That they can’t get robbed.”

“What happens when we go inside?” Jeno curiously asks.

This time Mark turns to his brother with high red eyes. “Just follow us, and you’ll be okay.” Their about to sneakily run through the drive yet right on cue- the garage slides up very slowly and majestically, revealing a brown Jaguar that’s making it’s way out.

"Shit!" They all say and duck hiding themselves behind the wall and tall garden bushes. Mark spots two people behind the dark tinted windows of the car as it drives out.

"There there there!" Haechan silently yells, the boys speed up while crouching towards the open garage before it closes. Pressed up against walls, still crouching and panting hard Mark hits his brothers side, feeling ecstatic that his brother tagged along.

“Fuck yeah!” Mark whisper yells hitting on Jeno. “Nice, boy, nice.”

"Holy shit," Haechan lets out when the lights of the garage dim down and he sees what’s actually inside the garage. “Mark, fucking look at this shit.” Standing up looking around the garage, he’s joined by Jeno and Mark who peek around. The two boys look around too and their eyes light up in the car. Rows of gleaming glassy fancy rich motherfucking cars, all different brands and colors. “You gotta be shitting me.”

Haechan practically jogs to the cars touching each one and checking their brands. Mark looks around a smirk placed on his face, "I told you, the bigger the better."

Jeno bites his lips and heads towards the wall of keys. "Is it this easy?"

Haechan notices the keys and pushes his gun in his back pocket. "Damn." Haechan mouths. "Mark start working on the fuse box. We need to get the garage door open if we’re going to get them out."

"Look," Mark nudges to a door that's by the corner. "Fuck me, let's cause some trouble first before we go,"

“Nah, that’s too risky.” Jeno shakes his head still a bit drunk but well aware of the pressing conversation and the two boys already walking to the door. “You guys only wanted the car.”

“You pussy,” Mark laughs walking towards the door regardless. “I saw two people in the car leaving, if I’m correct it looked the grumpy man and a high class maiden with a tote hat. Let’s cause shit, come on, Zeno.”

Jeno nervously sighs feeling hot. “Shit, okay.”

"Dae!"

"What?" I ask entering the kitchen, where Yezi's washing the dishes. I open the fridge taking out a can of cold drink.

“Those guys at the parking lot were pretty rude.” Yezi mumbles. “Are you okay?”

I turn to Yezi hearing her concern and feel a bit touched. “A bit disgusted by it, but I’m okay. I just hate that dad had to be there for that,”

“Did you see his face?” Yezi asks peeking at me with wide eyes. “I’ve never seen him look so dead ass cold. He even stopped the car ready to jump out and fight.”

“He was about to explode, I know.” I lean on the counter shaking the image of my dad in anger out my head.

“Low life boys are such fucking pricks. Which is why try your best to keep up the standard when it comes to guys. No disorder, just respectable men in suits with paper. I don’t even wanna marry a guy from here, I want a man from Thailand,”

“Those pricks in the car could be from Thailand.”

“Ew no. They weren’t from Thailand, you could see them, they’re from here, the disgusting and filthy side though. I want a respectable intelligent Thailand man.” Yezi states blissfully. “I mean, a respectable man who prides himself yes, but also a man who isn’t all about intellect. No.”

“What? Why?” I question.

“Because I want to have fun. And a guy who’s studied his whole life, won’t understand when I tell him ‘we should have fun’. He’ll look at me and say I’m a child.” Yezi reasons. “For example, that sugar daddy guy Kun, the one you were dating,”

“It was just a fling, we weren’t dating. What could he offer me that dad hasn’t already gotten me?”

“Uhm sex?” Yezi laughs.

I shake my head blushing at the mention of him. A nice sweet rising businessman who wanted to spoil me rotten with gifts and everything money can buy.

Yezi’s eyes widen. “He was so fucking hot and he knew how to have fun. I wouldn’t mind him taking care of me for the rest of my life. I want someone like that, chilled and not too serious but still respectable and decent enough for dad,”

That makes me laugh. “I think dad’s a bit disappointed that I didn’t want to take over the family business. So I’m gonna have to pass on a man taking care of me. I need to sustain myself and prove to dad why I chose journalism,”

“Uhm because you suck at math? Thought it was obvious,” Yezi jokes around. “I also don’t want anything to do with architecture. You better pave the way nicely for me,”

“What do you want to do?”

“Duh, a man who knows how to have fun? That’s what I want to do.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I’ll cross that bridge when I’m there. Hey by the way, where's Daegal? Mum left the front door open for her, but she still hasn’t come in,"

"Dad took her. Please don’t forget to close the door," I mumble yawning a little. "I'll be in my room."

"Wait, wait. Dae, look over there by the corner," she motions with her head to the window. I walk to her being confused by her stricken face. Looking above the sink window out to the street below, right across the street at the far end there's a small car, all rusty and crispy.

"What's wrong?" I ask shrugging my shoulders opening my can.

"Its on our street, dad didn't call any one over and Mrs Chittaphon isn't here, so who is that?" She asks watching the car. She washes her hands wiping them with the cloth. She goes out the kitchen into the living room, I follow her just in time to see her sending a silent alarm to the police station.

"Really Yezi? Like seriously? Dad's gonna be pissed. That isn't a toy you can just play with you know." I walk past her and to the kitchen to throw away the can while picking up a banana. I begin walking up the stairs eating the banana. “Yezi lock the garage door as well as the front door,”

“But you were in the kitchen just now, why didn’t you close the garage door?” Yezi whines.

"Because I didn’t open it,”

“Well neither did I,”

“Oh well, you’re gonna have to close it. I'm going to sleep. Wake me up when dad's back, I wanna be present when he yells at you for playing with the silent alarm," I head to my room leaving her in the living room watching TV and ignoring me.

I enter my room closing the main light switch but suddenly feel eerie when thinking of the car that was outside. Come to think of it, it looked like the crispy car from that center. Opening the twinkle lights setting the color mood to red, I pounce on my bed picking up my phone.

Feeling skeptical again, I get off my bed and walk over to the window. Checking the window, I pull open the curtains only a little watching the car.

That car does look suspicious. All the way from the the second floor of my room, I can see light coming from the front door. Damnit, Yezi being stubborn in her not closing the door will- Before I can even close the curtains to my room to go downstairs and close the door- I catch a glimpse of a person getting out and running towards... our house. The person disappears down below and I can’t see him anymore. After waiting a bit trying to determine if I’m being paranoid for no reason, my eyes enlarge when seeing the person’s hand gripping at the top of the bricked wall and hurling himself over. Shit! “Yezi! Close the-

"DAE!"

My heart accelerates at the sound of Yezi's blurted scream and I pounce out of my room sprinting from my floor and the long corridor all the way to the stairs. My heart bloating and swelling up as I try not to panic rapidly going down the stairs- I instantly freeze in my tracks, by the door of the living room as something cold and hard presses against my head stopping me altogether. My whole body trembles in cold sweat and I look to the side when my eyes meet Yezi's bloodshot stare in pure fear looking up to the man that has her trapped on the chair. His whole body lunges close to her with a sickening smile as she has both her hands covering her mouth. My body shivers just looking into her tears fall from her eyes as she trembles in uneasiness. The hooded guy resembles the pervert who kept patronizing me while I walked to my dad’s car, he even sounds like him.

I focus my attention on the guy who's holding the gun to my head, disgusted by that same dirty smile plastered all over his face, my mouth shakily opens up as I gasp out in horror. It's that guy from that center, the guy who was in that car. "Oh my god.”

“We decided to come out because the sun went down. We didn’t want god to see this.” He smirks. “Oh sweet cheeks, why do you look so nervous to see me?"

"Please. What do you want?" I ask holding back my tears from spilling but fail as they start blurring my vision. I gulp down the lump in my throat, yet my tears still fall over my cheeks. I back up just as he positions himself in front of me.

"Awe, where's the confidence now?" He chuckles running the barrel of the cold metallic gun down my chest and over my stomach. My body is paralyzed in a gripped dread as I feel the gun pass over my skirt before he puts it underneath and pushes the barrel in between my thighs rubbing it against my shaken core.

“Please,” I tremble when he begins to rub it while forcing both my hands above my head.

“Please what baby?” He darkly laughs whispering in my ear. “You want it?” I briskly turn my head to the side. Seeing Yezi now up on her feet visibly trembling while the hooded guy positions himself in front of her. She still has her hands covering her lips with tears streaming down her face.

“How old are you?” The hooded guy smiles and runs his long slim fingers down her chest and over her silk pajama shorts. “16? 17? You’re so perky, I bet you would be such a good fuck.” He then positions himself behind her and wraps one arm around her abdomen before thrusting his covered member into her. Her gasp is mixed with a sob and I cry.

“Please stop, we’ll give you anything you want, just stop please.” My croaked voice trembles to the guy who’s hands play with my exposed skin by pinching and groping my bare things underneath my skirt, yet still with his gun in hand.

"Anything? He laughs out. “I want your pretty little middle finger," he smirks. "In my mouth.” He pushes me hard against the wall with his gun now moving away from underneath my skirt and between my legs to his pocket. Freeing his hand and allowing himself continue to touch me while his teeth sink into my warm neck causing me to squirm and whimper. "You're so fucking hot you know," he whispers in my ear. I quiver as his fingers go up my exposed skin under my crop top fumbling with breast that’s covered by my bra. Cowering and shaking under his control my hazy eyes meet Yezi’s pain stricken eyes as she’s now seated on some guy I never thought was in the room.

“You still a virgin right?” The hooded guy asks to the man who Yezi sits on. The guy shamefully nods his head but moans when the hooded guy stretches open Yezi’s legs and grips her hand forcing her to palm the man underneath her. “You can’t have a big boy body but have never been touched before. Come on girly, make my brother feel good.”

“No!” Immediately I push the guy off me with shock strength panicking and coming back to my senses. He stumbles back but gets back at me with speed slapping my face tightly.

“Don’t play with me rich bitch,” The guy in front of me warns forcing both my hands up.

"Haechan she's mine," The hooded guy says forcing Yezi up with a playful smile. “Take this one, she’s a fucking virgin. She’s still tight.”

I now notice that the other guy in the room is the same guy from the center. My eyes widen when I do realize that it is truly him, the one who was watching me while drinking. He palms himself before taking something out his pocket- a beer can and opening it. Drinking, my eyes watch his adams apple and I’m stunned that it’s actually him. Silently observing, he sits on the chair shaking his head and ruffling his hair groaning out. I should've known from the moment that I saw him that something bad would happen. But not only that- he looks familiar again.

“Dae! Dae!” My eyes snap to Yezi who’s now being forced on her knees while the hooded guy lifts his hoody and starts fumbling with the belt on his pants.

"Please let go of me!" My attention is forced to the guy with a snapback. I try to push him away but he pulls out the gun and straight into my mouth.

“What’s wrong?" He dangerously whispers in my ear with a cold laugh. “I thought you had a sugar daddy. You should have experience in this stuff. Be a good rich bitch and open your legs,” he leans in closer to me again his hands going back to where they were. I bite my lip feeling the urge to beat him away from me.

"NO!" Yezi shrieks out loud when the hooded guy grabs a handful of her hair, leaning down and whispering to her. "NO! PLEASE DON'T!" Yezi urges in piercing screams.

Finding fear strength again, I sharply knee the guy in front of me in the groan and he doubles over yet grips the gun to my head.

"Fuck. Why’re you being so difficult sweet cheeks, just give me what I want and I'll let you and your sister go." He says. I spit on his face and try to run to Yezi but the guy grabs a handful of my shirt pushing me back to the wall roughly. "You fucking cunt. How dare you spit on my face?" He whips of my spit, pressing me harder to the wall.

Yezi screeches and fights the hooded guy with her hands and legs- the adrenaline finally kicking in her when she tries to resist the man with his belt open. The guy is strong and rapidly turns her around and plants her face roughly to the pillow on the chair. "I like rough sex, so if that’s what you’re into I’ll gladly comply. So stop squirming!" he says and then looks at me pulling down his hoody. "I wanted your sister, but you’ll have to do." I gulp feeling all the nerves in my body heighten. “You’re gonna watch me fuck your sister.”

"Zero get me something to tie this girl up." The guy in front of me says. The guy on the couch, Zero, gets up and walks out to the tv set, ripping out the cables from the various power supplies coming closer to me. His eyes are hooded and he looks a bit unstable- he’s drunk. Now that I think of it, they all look like their not conscious with their red eyes and uneasy postures.

Haechan grips both my hands and uses the cable ropes from the TV, that the Zero guy hands over. “Haechan, don’t tie it too tight.” Zero mumbles out to the Haechan guy in front of me.

"Alright here's what's gonna happen," Haechan presses himself against my back leaning to my ear. "Show me daddy's possessions and goods and then I let you go okay sweet cheeks?" My face is red as all the blood and tears rush up. Regardless I nod and he pulls me up and pushes me out the living room but I bump into another body and both me and the person scream out.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU GUYS DO!!?" We all get startled by the loud voice. The hooded guy and Haechan rapidly turn with their guns ready to shoot. I turn to look up at the guy in front of the living room entrance and see a panicked looking guy- Renjun?

"Renjun!" I call out his name and try to escape to him but Haechan's hand grips my shirt and brings me back to his hard chest.

"DONGHYUCK WHAT THE HELL! YOU SAID YOU ONLY WANTED THE CAR-" Renjun is on panic mode and looks to all the guys in the room. His breathing is uneven and he grabs his hair.

"Oh great the border jump decided to join. Haechan handle your brother before I do." The hood guy says. I look to Yezi noticing that the Zero guy ties her hands behind her back with her legs also in the process of being tied. She squirms and shakes but the hooded guy holds her down firmly with the pistol in her mouth. He looks up and smiles at Renjun. “Came to have fun?”

I look back at Renjun whose eyes are wide open and his hands are still on his hair. Is he confused at what's going on? "Renjun do something please!" I yell with a trembled tone.

"JENO WHAT THE HELL?! DONGHYUCK! MARK PLEASE LET HER GO! YOU GUYS ARE GOING TO JAIL! HOW ON EARTH DID YOU GUYS EVEN GET IN?!" Renjun yells walking over to Haechan, who points the gun towards Renjun.

"How the hell did you get in? Don’t tell me you walked in the front door like a little bitch. I told you to stay in the car!" Haechan says pushing me back and I stumble falling to the ground- into the arms of the drunkard Zero guy. He pulls me down on the chair laying my back flat. I'm about to scream but he forcefully puts his hand against my mouth.

"Don't scream I’ve got a fucking headache already. I won't hurt you, I promise. Just don't scream please, please." He begs in a whisper tone looking sincerely tired.

My tears slowly start to come out and I can't handle or control the flow that leaves my eyes while hearing the two boys fighting. Now there are four boys in total. Renjun, the one complaining and fighting, Zero (or rather Jeno as Renjun called him) the drunkard, the one hooded guy called Mark, who’s sitting by the edge of the chair smiling at the two fighting. And finally the ‘sweet cheeks’ guy Haechan. My heart pants when Haechan grabs Renjun by the collars before harshly punching him down.

“Give him another one!” The Mark guy cheers Haechan on. Haechan gets on his knees holding Renjun’s collar again. “Come on border jumper, show him-”

Suddenly the house makes a noise, making everyone fall dead silent. It sounds like the doors and windows are closing, imprisoning us! Haechan gets up moving to the curtains by the corner living room pulling them open. I see the metal bars locking the house and I gasp- the control panel. Snapping my head to the control panel I see the Zero guy with his finger on one of the buttons! He pressed on it, the lock down button.

"What the hell is happened?" Haechan asks with befuddlement.

"Calm down it's just on lock down mode." The Zero guy says breathing out. "There's bars around the windows and main doors leading to the outside.”

Haechan moves back to Renjun. “Take your ass back in the car and wait for us. We won’t be long-”

“Speak for yourself Haechan, my dick is loaded-”

"Fuck you Mark!" Renjun gets up on his feet again glaring at Mark before turning to Haechan again. "Donghyuck this is serious, if we don't-"

"Stop saying my name." Haechan lands another punch on Renjun’s face and I shut my eyes crying out. I can hear Yezi crying out when the Mark guy on the end of the couch leans closer and slaps her butt. His knee sinks on the couch and he places his body on top of hers with a dark chuckle-

Bzzzzzz

All heads turn to Jeno who looks back to control panel when the buzzing sound comes again, it's the outside buzzer connected to the monitor panel. He presses on a button and waits.

'Hello? Mr Zhong Chenle?’

Oh my soul! It's Officer Suh Johnny from the police department. I hope he didn't come alone. My heart raises up in anticipation.

Renjun raises his hands to his hair ignoring the blood that slowly travels from his hair over his head as he crouches down, a string of curse words leaving his lips. “Donghyuck-”

“Shut up you bitch.” Haechan growls out and in an instant draws closer to me, pulling me up and heading towards the speaker pushing the Zero guy away. He places the gun on my head again pushing it against my head. He breathes heavily in my ear, "If you dare defy me I will blow your brains out and rape your sister. Do you hear me!" I rapidly nod not having time to think about it. "Answer it." Haechan leans close and presses the ‘answer’ button on screen. Johnny’s face appears on the screen taken from the outside camera.

"Ye-s he-llo," I say trying to make my voice come out natural as possible.

'Miss Dae is that you?' The male police officer asks.

I look to Haechan and he nudges me to answer. "Ye-es it's, it's me." I squirm a bit, making Haechan angry he pushes the gun harder against my head making me cry.

'Miss Dae what's going on? Are you okay?' He looks around concerned.

I think of a lie quickly and answer, "Yes I'm okay- it's just it's just, I'm watching this movie with Yezi and it's so sad." I lie holding in my tears.

The police officer seems to believe it as he smiles a little. 'I understand. There was a silent alarm sent to the department and I was close by deciding to check on you guys. Is everything alright?'

"Tell him it was an accident," Haechan whispers in my ear- strangely calm as if he’s used to this.

"It was an accident." I repeat.

'That's okay this happens all the time, but may you please come to the gate for a bit.' I look at Haechan who shakes his head. 'There seems to be an abandoned pick up trick on your street and your house is under locked.’ The officer says seriously. ‘Are you sure everything's okay?'

"Tell him some people are fixing the lights," I repeat what Haechan says.

I look over to Haechan who looks tense and looks over to the couch. I follow his gaze watching the hooded guy get off Yezi with a gun in hand. They eye each other down before the hooded guy nods, hastily taking off. Haechan presses a button- the unlock button- and the house starts to unlock itself.

“OFFICER SUH! THERE ARE 4 MEN IN THE HOUSE! PLEASE WE NEED HELP!”

Haechan’s eyes enlarge the moment Yezi yells out. “MARK FUCKING SHOOT THE POLICE!” Haechan yells out and ditches me running out of view the same place Mark ran to. The Zero guy quickly comes and stands next to me as we both watch the screen of Johnny on full alert with his gun positioned forward as he looks at the gate.

“OFFICER SUH RUN THEY’RE COMING-” Jeno is quick in shutting me up frantically covering up my mouth with his whole arm while he forces me back.

BANG!

A gun fire breaks out but I can’t even see where it’s from as Jeno drags me back.

BANG!

Mark shoots again from far sprinting forwards when he sees he’s landed a shot. The gun fire echo's around the whole house and also around the quiet deserted street. Mark uses the front door to escape running down the driveway before reaching the house entrance gate, he holds the gun steady in his hand and watches the police male figure try to crawl away. He doesn't get far, only two walking feet away and Mark chuckles.

Officer Suh Johnny holds onto his radio by his collar still pushing and dragging his body forward. The thoughts running in his mind is to protect the girls and send backup quick. "Back up.. please. Mr Zhong's residence. 4 men. Pick up truck aban1doned. 2 girls inside. Hurry. I've been hit."

Mark watches with fascination, the thought that the police had a shot at escaping death makes him chuckle.

Haechan appears at the doorway seeing Mark between the bared gates at the end of the walking way. He runs to where Mark is and his eyes fall to the police officer. He looks over at Mark, who's still smiling and looking at the male. "What the fuck Mark. He's still moving." Haechan says calmly. “Kill him already.”

"He won't get far," Mark smirks and points the gun once again aiming for his back unaware of the bulletproof vest.

BANG!

While he shoots, Haechan watches the officer. “He’s got a bullet proof vest.” Johnny’s back arches obviously in pain and he wiggles on the floor, a crimson color of blood trailing behind him as he still wiggles and moves on the floor - trying to get away.

"Damn, he's strong 5 bullets and he's still going on. Wow, what it means to be a fighter." Mark pouts his lips loading his gun again with an evil smile and red high eyes looking ahead in delight.

“Shoot his head.” Haechan says. “We need to take care of those bitches fast and leave.”

“Let's see how many it'll take to finish him." Mark is deaf to the rest of Haechan’s words and aims his gun at the polices head. “You ever seen a head explode Donghyuck?”

“No.” Haechan shakes his head still with his eyes trained on the wiggling police officer who was now closer to his car.

“I have.” Mark’s lip twitches in a pained smile that’s quickly covered by his horrendous laugh. “It was my father’s head. It bursted out like...” Mark pulls the trigger on the police officer and splatter chunks of blood spurts out. “Bang. Just like that. And I shot one more time, to make sure he was dead.”

BANG!

Similar actions are done back in the living room by Renjun as he holds onto his chest every time the gun goes off. His bottom lip trembles, and just like the crying girls he’s also in tears and afraid. Standing up in absolute fear he tries to breath but gets his heart shocked when the gun fires three more times and it becomes silent again. The silence too tense and almost tangible.

Yezi wails around the couch tears streaming down her face, Dae on the other hand didn't even budge from the floor with Jeno right on top of her. Jeno held her down with his eyes trained on the monitor screen. Dae knew that something was wrong when Jeno’s eyes widen every time a gun shot was heard. Officer Suh must’ve been on the receiving end of those bullets otherwise Jeno wouldn’t be letting out a breath of relief and grabbing his canned drink and downing down another lump.

Renjun roughly pulls his short hair back and furiously marches to Jeno pushing him back. "Jeno, they killed him. Stop drinking we need to get out of here." He pushes him again and Jeno falls on the ground- losing his balance totally- the alcohol merging with his senses.

Dae takes her chance and tries to get up even though her hands are tied up behind her. She runs with speed to another corridor in the dark hallway, to where another monitor is. Her teary eyes see the still body of the officer on the ground with blood pouring around him and she trembles and with her tongue she firmly sticks it on the screen trying to send another silent alarm. Her tongue hazing on the screen until it’s sent.

Her whole head snaps back when hearing Yezi wail out louder. She panics and carefully goes back to the living room seeing Haechan squeezing her neck tightly slapping her cheek again. Cowering back in fear she tries to run back to the hallway again but hits into a hard chest falling back down. Mark is in front of her with a smirk. He pulls her up by her hair clicking his tongue. “I found her.”

"You think you can get away from me sweet cheeks huh," Haechan bitterly laughs walking away from Yezi. “I was teaching your sister a lesson for opening up her big mouth. Jeno told me you snitched as well, so I think you deserve this too-” The moment Haechan reaches Dae and Mark his hand swings back and he gives her a wild back hand slap sending her flying to the ground as Mark let’s her hair go. This time Haechan grabs her hair pulling her up. “I hate when my plans go south-”

"Please! Let me go! Donghyuck-"

He slams her back on the floor before grabbing her hair and dragging her to get to the living room. He throws her on the floor once they’re in the living room again. She let her tears fall down screaming out when seeing Yezi’s red face with tiny bruises. Haechan points his gun at her and clicks his tongue. "Don't you dare say my fucking name ever again!"

"Donghyuck! What the- what the hell!?" Renjun taunts out again hurrying over to his brother gripping his shoulders. "Mark shot the police! He shot the police! You said you were gonna steal the car! Not tie up the girls and shoot the police!"

Haechan becomes silent in hearing that, the image of the police’s head being shot several times still fresh in his mind, he gulps and points the gun to Renjun. "This wouldn't have happened if you stayed in the car like I told you." Haechan says holding the gun back down. "You could've warned us that someone was coming or you could've told the police a lie!"

"What lie? That my brother went to hijack a car!"

"I didn't say the truth! I said lie! Lie! You could've lied for us!" Haechan grabs his hair feeling stressed not knowing where his 'in and out' plan would lead to. "We need to get the hell out of here before more police come. We need a plan Mark. Jeno lock the house again, just in case somebody comes unprepared."

He looks over at the girl on the couch and the older girl on the floor, he sighs and scratches his head removing his cap letting his black long hair fall over his forehead as he scratches his head.

Breathing out he begins talking. “Right. We’re gonna take a car-”

Sirens are heard outside startling everyone in the house but not as much as the bursting gunshots that shoot from the outside.

Renjun curses ducking his head down. Yezi and Dae look around in relief thinking they're safe but it’s when Dae notices that Mark is nowhere to be seen that she begins to panic. Especially with Jeno leaning on the wall watching the monitor, struggling to stand straight still downing the last bits of the can before smiling. “Mark is fucking awesome.” He whispers out. The sirens stop but the gunshots continue on. After some time the gun stops too.

Dae's view:

The hooded guy appears by the door, looking jolted, signaling Jeno to lock the house. Jeno presses the button and looks around as the house makes the imprisoning sound again.

"Yah! Mark what the fuck? Were those sirens?" Haechan quizzes.

"I don't know." Mark leans on the door putting more bullets in his gun. He pushes the gun in the front of his jeans, he pulls up his jersey revealing another gun, he pulls the other gun out and puts bullets in that one too. I watch his actions, afraid that he might kill Yezi and I. "I pretended to be a fucking gardener and they said another silent alarm was sent." Mark scoffs. "It's either that or that dead cop called for backup."

Haechan eye's immediately snap to mine.

"Another silent alarm was sent. Oh fuck I hope you had nothing to do with it sweet cheeks." He comes close to my face pulling me up to my feet his black eyes burning into my brown eyes. "Aggh!" He throws me back on the floor making Mark quickly hover above me. He makes me sit down properly and rubs my back lightly.

“Don’t worry baby girl, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Are you okay?" Mark darkly chuckles laughing out. Why is he laughing as if everything is funny? His red eyes, show how high and wasted he is, just like Jeno who can barely stand straight. My body shakes by his touch and I gasp out when leans his head and dives straight for my neck. I close my eyes and twitch a bit when his teeth nibble on my skin, as his hand immediately spreads my legs while his palm cups my-

“Mark you can’t be serious- we’re about to get caught in a cross fire and you’re fucking making out with her?” Haechan questions pacing around. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" Haechan yells out. Pulling his dark hair back. He puts on his cap backwards and sits on the couch.

"Jeno tie her legs up." He points over to me. "Put that one in a room," he points to Yezi.

"What? After all that's happened you still-"

"And I certainly don't want you around!" He points to Renjun dead shot. "You're gonna keep an eye on that girl and Jeno, watch her." Haechan bosses around. "Put them in separate rooms. Mark and I are gonna scoop the place, get what we can and fill it in a car. When we’re done, we leave."

“Be good baby girl,” Mark gets up following Donghyuck, not before patting my head.

Jeno and Renjun are silent but soon obey.

"Now how do I carry her?" Renjun asks looking at Yezi, who looks like a net.

Jeno picks me up gently putting me up on my feet. I look back at Renjun who's trying to lift her up. Renjun’s soft eyes turns to me, his eyes in pain as he looks at me and Yezi's hands tied. He looks down with shame. "I'm sorry.."

I'm unable to reply as Jeno pushes my back.

"Lead the way to your room," his deep voice makes me shiver. I walk slowly, climbing the steps.

"I like your style, I couldn’t stop looking at it at that center," he says very quietly. The alcohol can be smelt from his breath. I look down, seeing my crop top exposing my bare stomach and my high skirt exposing my bare legs.

S1:E8-15

Zhong Chenle's pov:

"Please take care of the house and the girls and-"

"Don't worry, my love. Everything will be okay." I kiss her lips softly drawing her body near, ending with a sweet peck. "Now go before Mrs Chittaphon takes the flight without you. It’s a miracle she waited for you." We both turn our heads to where Mrs Chittaphon is by the terminal gate staring at us. Seeing that our attention is on her, she turns around and is out of sight.

"Shoot." Chungdae laughs kissing my lips again before quickly walking off.

"I love you!" I scream out waving my hand. She turns around her face pink, revealing a row of nervous perfect teeth. She blows out a kiss and I cringe while catching it and looking down at the heart before shaking my head and placing it in my front pocket. Knowing she’s expecting one back, I peck the palm of my hand and blow it out towards her. She catches it like a giddy little girl before speed walking to the terminal gaze. Standing in place simply watching her until she’s out of sight I breathe out feeling suddenly empty. I already miss her and the aeroplane hasn’t even yet taken off.

We were under the impression that the plane would leave exactly at 7pm, so by 6.30 we were already pulling into the parking lot (as our home isn’t that far from the airport) to our surprise the plane is said to leave at 8pm. The reason we even came late instead of at 5pm like Mrs Chittaphon suggested was because Chungdae didn’t want to spend hours talking with Mrs Chittaphon. But even though coming late, she still has a hour hour and 30 minutes to chat with Mrs Chittaphon.

Oh well. Two weeks. I’ll see my wife again in two weeks.

I get to my car moments later getting myself some coffee, seeing how two lurking people are staring at my car. "Daddy look, is this Jaguar as fast the real Jaguar?” The kid’s eyes light up as he bounces up and down. “The Jaguar! The Jaguar!" The boy's father looks over at me smiling an embarrassed smile taking a hold of his son’s hand who was about to touch my car.

I return an awkward smile and get in the car thankful that the little boy didn’t set a print on my car. Making myself comfortable and seeing Daegal still sleeping on the passengers seat, I place the little treat bag on the chair and turn on the engine. Wanting to be bit spontaneous, I put on a show for the little boy by making my engine roar to full maximum power.

As expected:

The kid

Loses

His mind.

He begins to jump up and down literally screaming in joy, "Oskar vrrrr ! Oskar vrrrrr! Oskar vrrrrrrr! vrrrrr! vrrrrr! vrrrrr! vrrrr!~~" he chants aloud bouncing around his father.

His father gripping him trying to bring him back on Earth. I laugh silently carefully driving out the parking spot and eventually out on the road, pushing down on the accelerator making my car go as fast while passing the other cars on the highway. Taking my eyes off the road for a second, I peer at my phone that’s planted by the phone grip. I press long on it’s side turning it on. I chuckle to myself when thinking of my wife and how she always nags about me having a phone when I hardly even use it. While it switches on, I turn on the radio switching through the channels to find any music station as my CD record has no CD’S of my taste whatsoever- most likely because of Yezi, it would explain those random Thai CD’s.

Upon turning the radio, my face frowns when I hear my name on one of the stations. I quickly go back, finding the chatting team.

‘From what we hear the police have barricaded and surrounded the mansion, it’s also been reported and said that his two daughters are inside with those burglars.’ The hostess speaks causing my anxiety to rise. I’m sure that I heard my name a second ago- but among hearing that two daughters are trapped in a mansion with potential burglars my heart pounds harder. Did they just say police have barricaded and have surrounded the mansion? ‘But can you just imagine the intense amount of fear traversing through the father at this moment? His own home that he built with his very hands being used as a prison for his daughters. What sick cruelty.’

‘It’s moments like this when you realize that even millionaires who try to live amongst the ordinary- still get picked on by burglars.’ A male hosts comments. ‘I personally thing it was a mistake for Zhong Chenle to pick out a situated area like that. I understand he’s humble enough to reflect that he’s richly ordinary, but maybe a more reserved area would’ve been well fitted for him and he wouldn’t be stuck in this predicament of having his daughters trapped in a building,’

Did I hear right?

I’m not even sure because all I can hear are the heavy thuds of my heart.

‘I agree. Let’s just hope the situation gets better,’ The hostess comments. ‘This has been Build Architect Talk on 94.7 highveld stereo, send your comments through twitter on what you think about the-’

My heart races to the same speed of the car, the wind swamping through the little space of the window. I slow down the car seeing the traffic lights a few pints away. I stop at the red light picking up my phone urgently now noticing the white light that flashes through HOME LED. Oh my god.

_____________________________________________________

|*⚠3 ALERTS FROM: SYSTEM HOME

______________________________________________________

|*▶1 NEW VOICE MESSAGE

______________________________________________________

|*↙ 9 missed calls

______________________________________________________

|* ✓ FRIEND REQUEST(s) ON FACEBOOK

___________________________________________________________

|*Yezi: Dad please buy some takeaway for us?

____________________________________________________________

|*$ Cash Transfer/Deposit

____________________________________________________________

Why are there three alerts from system home?

I click on the Alerts patiently waiting for the system to load. I breath out only expecting to be proven wrong by what I just heard from that radio station. How could the radio station be informed before me? But then how would I have been informed if my phone and any other gadget used to contact me were off- Two silent alarms sent?! My head begins to throb as I read the feedback report and the times the house was locked? If two alarms were sent on different times it means that it was not accidental and the girls sent it for valid reasons. But now reading the report of the house being locked multiple times only sends me in a frenzy. What the hell is happening? The 9 missed calls are all from different people- but none from the girls. 4 are from the police?

Speed dialing Dae’s number- her phone rings and rings until my call is directed to voice mail. I try again two more times- but they all go to voice mail. I try Yezi-

HONK! HONK!

Getting startled by the car behind and the bright green light on the traffic light I curse out. I press on my paddle at the green light speeding down the road ignoring all the speed limits and pass the other cars in a flash.

“Please be okay. Please be okay.” I mumble continuously while swerving through the other cars my heart beating on raider and loud for the whole world to hear.

I'm startled again when my phone vibrates on my lap. I pick it up immediately answe’ring the call, swerving the car avoiding accidents.

"Dae?" I call out my voice rising.

"Mr Zhong Chenle. Thank god we finally got a hold of you. Sorry for the intrusion but this is urgent-”

"I'm sorry I can’t right now- I need to get to my home-”

The guy over the phone calmly interrupts with a bold statement that paralyzes my core. "This is regarding your house with your two daughters. I think it would be best if you drove to your residence as soon as possible," The officer cuts off sternly. I hear my heart pound hard against my chest, my vision becoming blurry.

"My god what happened to them." My emotions get heightened and the words from the radio all come back to me.

"Mr Zhong please be calm everything will be okay. Drive safely and get home as soon as possible.”

Once the call cuts- I drive anything but safely on the free way continuously pushing the limits to the point where I’m even unaware of the trial of traffic cops following behind me, my only concern; that my girls are safe. It’s only when I drive into the residents housing area do I notice that on my street- a large gathering of police cars and men in uniform surround the house all proactively doing something. I barely shut the car off but all I know is that my feet are hot when running out and straight to the gate of the entrance gates. I’m about to open up the gate with my remote key but I’m hurled back by strong arms holding tightly onto my whole body.

“My girls! My girls! My girls are in there! LET ME GO!”

“Unfortunately we can’t do that.”

A voice cuts me short of breath as I stare wide eyed to one person I’d really not like to see.

“Zhong Chenle, CEO of G.H Constructions, the same man who evicted me and 29 other people from a main land building, all in the name of building a fucking bus station-”

“Moon Taeil, is this really necessary now?” Chenle yells out. “My daughters-”

“Yeah they’re in house, we know. We’ve been trying to reach you, but you were M.I.A. on all the calls, so we had to proceed without you. And for your information it is General Moon, respect the initial-”

“General I don’t think that’s necessary right now.” A punctual and straight voice interrupts Taeil’s ‘superior speech. I pant out frustrated when the hands of the Officers around me let me go and I turn to the new officer showing me a screen on the tablet. I dive in closer gripping the tablet seeing an image that’s been zoomed in. It’s Yezi’s window. She’s pressed against the window with a gun to her head. “The moment we tried intruding, this is what happened.”

“Tried?” I stand back looking at all the cars around. “You mean to tell me that even with the number of police officers out here- you still haven’t done anything but tried?!”

Moon Taeil steps forward with stern eyes. “Mr Zhong. We are tying to do our job-”

Staring at him in disbelief I grab him by the shoulders shaking him up. “If you’re considering this just a job then you should go! My two daughters are in there and all you can do is brag around about your new job and title? I can make one phone call right now and you’re entire career is over-”

Taeil tsks while scoffing. “You’re children are hostages in that stupid mansion and all you can think about is ruining me? Haven’t you already tried that? I wondered why you never even cared about the 29 people who were left homeless, I should’ve realised back then that it’s because you’re a narcissist. Even your own girls are there but you just want to-”

“That’s enough General Moon. You placed me in charge of this case, now with all due respect I need you off the premises effective as of now.” The Officer commands with his hands sharp out the ‘General’. He sharply turns to me with stern eyes. “Mr Zhong I need you to calm down. Engaging in trivial matters right now isn’t good for your blood pressure or ours. We need to stay clear and focus. Now if you may, follow me.”

“Who the fuck is that?” I glare at the Officer man walking away.

Moon Taeil scoffs. “If you must know everything, he’s the man you will be answering to if you want your daughters to leave there safely. Now if you’ll excuses me, I’ve got errands to attend to. I would say all the best, but I don’t even think you care.”

I try getting a grip of myself and not allow myself to lunge at the parting General. My daughters are trapped inside the house right now, and all the barbarian officers can think about is their stupid titles and power over me.

“Uh Mr Zhong, I’m Officer Park Jisung,” An officer appears in my face looking a bit hesitant. “Officer Na Jaemin sent me to fetch you-”

“I’m coming.” I sharply glare. “And who is he?”

“Officer Na Jaemin?” The Officer Park’s eyes widen. “He is second in command and one of our youngest military transfer. The Chief and General recruited him after an impressive take down of a kidnapping situation. He did that all by himself." Jisung chuckles. "Chief calls him a man team."

“Youngest? How old is he?” I ask before looking up and down at him, seeing he’s also young. “And how old are you?”

"Oh," Jisung chuckles again. "He's 23 years old. Don’t let the age fool you, he’s a gifted prodigy recruit straight from the highest military academy. He's got honor badges and was the top of his class, passed with flying colors and dignity. He respects and handles all situations well, so he’s age is just an age, but mentally, he’s on fire." Jisung continues rambling on about the achievements of the Officer as Chenle zones and follows in the direction the stern serious Officer Na Jaemin left to.

After turning around several police cars I finally find the ‘Officer Na’ and make my way towards him. “Officer Na, tell me if you’ve got a way to end this right now. If not then I can make a phone call to National Security and end it quick.”

Officer Na raises an eyebrow in my direction seemingly trying to refrain himself from making a haste comment. “I understand your dying urge to save your daughters from the scene, I have kids of my own, but they’re mice and their trapped inside my apartment with a frenzy crazy cat.”

My eyes enlarge. “Did you just compare my precious daughters to your-”

“Here’s what we know so far.” Officer Na cuts throws revealing a journal with hand written notes. “You’ve got two daughters by the name of Dae and Yezi. They were in the house until they sent a silent alarm to the station around 6.57pm. By the details of Officer Suh, now in another place, he stated there was an abandoned car parked by a distance on this street. This car right here-” Officer Na turns to the vehicle on the side and I pane my eyes as well doing a double take. I’ve seen this car bef-

“My god.” My eyes enlarge. “Those perverts.”

“You know this car?” Officer Na asks and I bite my lip in fury.

“Continue with what you’ve gathered.”

“Upon checking the security footage by the neighbors house, there car seemed to have arrived minutes after yours drove in. And that was around 6.10pm. It stayed and rested there with no movements. Around 6.30pm we saw 3 boys exit the car and make a straight bee line for your house. They climbed the gates and that was the last we saw of them. Moments later we saw your gates opening and a car getting out, we assume that was you and your wife, and that was around 6.45. From our calculations between 6.45 and 6.57, 13 minutes were in between. And we assume that the 3 boys somehow entered the house, to our surprise one more guy left the car at 7.00pm and climbed the gates over and entered, resulting to their being 4 boys in total. Officer Suh, who’s now in... critical condition, arrived at your house at 7.09pm and constantly kept speaking into the monitor. He mentioned your eldest daughter Dae answered the monitor and her voice sounded shaky, he heard voices in the back and persisted to ask about the abandoned car. She stated somebody was fixing something inside, and that’s when he knew something was wrong. He offered for her to come to the front, but before any movements could be done he heard the girls over the monitor yell out that they were trapped with four boys and that they were going to kill him. Just like that rapid gun fire came his way. He sent a distress call of a hostage situation of 4 burglars and 2 hostages- from the security footage, it shows he was shot about 7 times while trying to make it to his car.”

“Where is he now?” I ask in worry. If they shot him mercilessly, how sure am I that my daughters are in ‘safe’ hands.

“Right there in the ambulance truck.” Officer Na motions with his hand. “Like I said, he’s in critical condition.” Officer Na states, avoiding to mention that Officer Suh is now dead, after being shot on the back of his head. “After he sent the distressed call around 7.12, another silent alarm was sent 7.13pm and 4 officers we’re already on the move in 2 separate cars. Upon reaching the house and seeing the Officer Suh’s body on the ground they proceeded with caution where they met a ‘gardener’. They explained the situation and the ‘gardener’ supposedly shot out to them to which they returned in a shoot out battle, where unfortunately the ‘gardener’ had the upper hand. By now we know you have no gardener and that it was actually one of the boys. From the means of it, after searching their car, we’re 100% sure that most, if not all the boys are under substance influence as we found marijuana and weed plants in the car, multiple of beer cans scattered around and dust of cocaine on the dashboard.”

Officer Na turns the pages of his book, but I quickly ask. “What else did you find in the car? Anything about those boys?”

“We looked for anything else to identify the boys as the security camera couldn’t capture there faces- we found nothing but a school bag. Within the school bag there were art supplies and sketches and drawings of flowers and portraits of people- that’s not important, but what is important is that it belongs to a scholarship student Huang Renjun.” Officer Na points to the hood of the rusted car, were smiles files and notebooks were place. “We did background detail on him and found out he was adopted by a widow, Mrs Lee. We gave her a ring, but she was at church. She ended up calling back and we asked about her adopted son and the mishaps he caused. To which she was flabbergasted as Renjun would never do such a thing. The usual mother talk. However, as she was completely against the idea of her adopted son Renjun causing malicious crimes, she was purely certain that her own son Lee Donghyuck was involved. Lee Donghyuck, a mastermind of schemes and trouble, he’s a regular at juvenile prison. Commits minor crimes and serves his time for a short sentence, before doing the same thing. He’s a kid who’s seen trouble one too many times. And from that information we know for certain that Lee Mark is also involved.”

“Brothers?”

“No.” Jaemin shakes his head. “They first met in juvenile prison when they were 13. Know Mark, is one of those kids you never want your child to come across. Buys and sells drugs to minors, is always in possession of illegal cocaine and frequently gets into fight with anybody that looks at him. So it’s no brainer that him and Donghyuck are a match made in heaven. They were inseparable since meeting, they mixed up in the wrong crowds together, caused twice as much damage then they did alone, served their sentences together, and eventually joint by the hip by a common love for crime. Where one is, you’ll most likely find the other. So now we know for certain that Lee Mark, Lee Donghyuck and his brother Haung Renjun are there. As for the fourth guy, we assume it could be Lee Jeno, as he’s Mark’s younger brother and every time Mark isn’t with Donghyuck, he’s with his brother, Jeno. But we don’t know yet. Jeno has no criminal record, went to primary school and dropped out of high school performing side jobs here and there.”

“What side jobs?” I ask.

“He’s a self proclaimed photographer.” Jaemin answers, spreading out the printed photo’s of all the boys on top of the car. Where Mark and Donghyuck both are mugshot photos, Renjun and Jeno are seen in high school photo’s. Renjun an honor student, and Jeno a shabby looking boy who barely smiled.

“They are so young.” I mumble. “How old are they 17?”

Jaemin grunts. “These are old photos. They’re all in their 20′s currently. Mark and Donghyuck are both 21, Mark being the eldest and Renjun and Jeno are both 20, Renjun being the eldest.”

“We assume they’ve got eyes on the premises outside, partially because as soon as we tried to enter from the back, they held up your daughter Yezi by her window and we withdrew from anything further.” Jaemin says yet, he leans over the car unwrapping a white A3 folder. “As we’re talking now, a team led by my best man Officer Sungchan are hidden inside the premises outside the garage door. On my go, they’ll enter as soon as I give them the greenlights. Speaking of greenlight, are their any surveillance cameras in the house- so that we can get our setup guy to activate?”

I shake my head. “My family disliked the ideas of the cameras in the house. They didn’t like the idea of being ‘watched’ so I took them out. The only camera’s we have are outside of the house.”

“That’s okay. With your 2 daughters in there, we need to be extremely careful otherwise-”

“Officer Na! Officer Na!”

We both turn our heads to a an out of breath officer. It’s Officer Na who grunts. “Jisung I told you to stay off the scene. And what the hell are you doing with that damn dog?”

Seeing the white fluff ball in his hands, I instantly go over and pick up dog from him. “Oh Daegal, where you sleeping in the car?”

“That’s yours?” Officer Jaemin questions with confusion before looking to Jisung.

“I was outside off the scene like you said, but I saw Mr Zhong’s door open and I could hear a dog barking. When I went closer, I saw the dog and also-” He looks down when the large phone in his hand began ringing. “The phone keeps ringing.”

I take a hold of my phone seeing Yezi’s contact ringing on the screen. My eyes widen instantly answering the call. “Yezi-”

“Shhhh. I’m sorry sir. My name’s Huang Renjun and-” I place the phone away from my ear setting it on loud speaker for Officer Jaemin to hear. Surprisingly I can hear stone hard Chinese leave the young boy’s lips. “- telling you this to help get us out of here. I don’t know what was going on in there minds but I swear they didn’t hurt the girls. I just need help- I’m not sure how long they’ll be down there but we need help.”

Yezi watches as Renjun keeps one of his hand on the phone and the other on the cold cloth covering his bruised cheek. “Are you sure he’ll answer?” Renjun looks to Yezi on the bed still with her hands tied up. Feeling bad that she was in this situation he untied her legs and allowed her the space to cry until she composed herself. Now after having charged her phone it was 15% he opened and searched through the contact until finding her dad. She said, her dad would know what to do.

“Yes he will.” She whispers. “I saw the police outside when they pressed me against the window. I’m sure he’s there now.”

“But it’s been ringing and he’s not- oh.” He’s stunned when hearing the connecting sound.

“Yezi!”

He hears Zhong Chenle speaking into the phone and he can’t help but break out into Chinese while feeling panicked. The words flow out so fast that not even the people on the other hand get a grasp of a word he says. He silences down when hearing a voice over the phone.

“Listen here. I need you to calm down and breath okay? The only thing we heard was your name, Renjun right?”

“Yes.” Renjun answers in a much calmed tone while standing up pacing nervously.

“Okay good. It’s Renjun on the phone, he somehow has your daughters phone-” Renjun can hear the voice, but the male isn’t talking to him. Meaning he must be on speaker. “Where are you now?”

“I’m in...” He looks to the girl nervously. “What’s your name?”

“Yezi.”

“I’m in Yezi’s room. They sent me here to make sure she doesn’t escape.”

“Yezi’s room?” The Officer asks and from the outside they look up as soon as they see a figure approaching the curtains. The curtains open up a little and Renjun places his hand on the window. “Hold your fire,” He hears the Officer speak. “Okay Renjun, I need you to listen to me and answer my questions. We already know you, your bother and his friend are in the house, failure to come to a middle ground will put you all in danger-”

“No disrespect sir, but I’m already in grave danger talking to you. My brother could appear any moment and I can see the police want to shoot me-”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. Relax,” The Officer interrupts hearing the panic through the phone. “Renjun remain calm okay, we’re not going to shoot you okay? Listen to me, can you confirm this? Are their 4 boys in the house?”

“Yes.” Renjun looks carefully to the door. “Me, my brother Donghyuck, his friend Mark and his brother Jeno.”

“Did you guys bring any weapons?”

“I don’t know but I saw Mark and Donghyuck with guns-” Renjun scratches his head pacing around and walking to the window again looking at the scene outside before, seeing a hand wave.

“That’s me, you’re talking to me.” The Officer comments. “Are-”

“Officer I’m scared right now, but I can’t go to jail! My mum is sick and-”

“Renjun I need you to calm down buddy, it’s alright-”

“No it’s not- Donghyuck goddamnit. He just likes following Mark around and-”

“Lower your voice.” Yezi whisper yells in panic, feeling scared nervously looking to the door. The fact that Renjun was badly beaten on the face and shaking like a fish out of water only made Yezi more anxious that something bad would happen to him if he was caught.

“Okay I’m sorry. I got carried away for a minute- they’ll be finished in any moment.”

“Do you know what the other boys are doing now?”

“Donghyuck and Mark said something about filling up a car with materials. So I think they’re both downstairs. Jeno and I are upstairs in each of the girls rooms.”

“Were you the one holding the girl Yezi by the window?”

“No- that was Donghyuck.” Renjun answers remembering the scene. “They tied her hands and legs up, so when Jeno helped me carry her to her room, I undid her legs but she tried to run away and then Donghyuck held her at gun point shoving her to the window telling her he’d kill her for everyone to see.”

“Where’s Yezi now?”

Renjun looks back at her. “She’s on the bed, she told me where her phone was and said to call her dad.”

“You guys did good, don’t stress.” The Officer says before speaking into the radio monitor to which Renjun makes out. “Stand by.” The Officer looks back up and clears his throat. “If it’s possible, I need you to stay on the phone with me okay? We’ve got a plan, but we need your cooperation, cool?”

“C-cool.”

“Something’s wrong.” Donghyuck mutters looking out the creak of the window behind the blinds. As soon as they put the girls in their rooms, him and Mark searched around the place for anything valuable and began stashing it inside the car. Upon Yezi’s outburst and attempt to escape, Donghyuck warned her by forcing her against the window. His initial plan was to scare her by throwing her out- but as soon as he saw the arrival of the police cars and the officers outside he panicked. He placed the gun to her head before closing the curtains and commanding Renjun to watch her.

When he got downstairs, he was surprised to see mugshots of himself as well as Mark. Mark was sniffing in powder of cocaine while watching the news. After much convincing for Mark to hurry up in stalking the car with materials- he found himself inspecting the downstairs window again. The police were outside...doing nothing.

Which was strange at first, but then Donghyuck thought that maybe it was because of holding Yezi at gun point. Even so, right now there still seems to be no movement. No one is doing anything, they’re just standing outside. Plus, one of the officers keeps looking up- not to the window he’s peeking out of, but instead to one of the girls’ room- most likely Yezi.

“Yho Haechan, you need to see this,” Mark stands by the living room door. Donghyuck get’s up from his position against the wall following Mark who goes into the kitchen and then gets to the door leading to the garage and stops before peeking inside. “Look,”

Donghyuck leans against the door looking inside. The light are switched on and the large black Jeep car has the trunk open. It’s the car, they plan on taking. “Do you see that?” Mark asks.

“What?”

“Under the garage door.”

Taking a look at the garage, my dead tilts to the side upon seeing something weird. There’s a twig like stick poking from underneath the door. “Is that...”

“A tactical electronic under door camera from Call of Duty? Yes.” Mark nods his head. “I was walking around and noticed it, I tried not to be obvious but I purposely moved around it enough to see it’s a camera. They’re watching us. Follow me again.” Following Mark we make it to the living room where the monitor is set. “I kept fiddling with this trying to see if I could turn on the garage light, and as soon as I saw this-” He points to the screen where there are buttons of: Porch, Garage, Swimming Pool, Back Yard, Veranda, Hot tub, Garden and many of the outside areas. “When I saw this, I thought is was the lights for outside, but then when I clicked garage, I saw this.”

He clicks on ‘Garage’ and surely a surveillance footage of the outside comes up. The area around the garage, the drive up path and the little bush around.

“Check this out,” Mark points to the long thin black stream line- the same one we saw in the garage- it’s connected and it’s leading straight to the bush, where Donghyuck makes out a hand. “Do you see it?”

“They’re gonna come in through the garage?”

“I counted and saw 6 here.” Mark comes out of the garage footage and moves to the yard footage. “Counted 4 here,” Mark comes out again, while going to the next footage and the next. “Swimming pool 2, veranda 2, porch 2, hot tub, 2 and garden, there’s only 1 guy. In total there’s 19 guys around the house right now, ready to take us out.”

“I bet they’re waiting for a signal.” Donghyuck’s eyes widen and he drags Mark to the living room blind where he was. “If they wanted to take us out, they would, but look.”

“Wait a minute-” Mark leans closer squinting his. “Is that Officer Na Jaemin?”

“The parole officer?” Donghyuck going to the other side of the curtain. He can’t see the faces clearly but still sees that one officer looking up. “With one command they’ll come barking in.”

“We need to stop it.” Mark comments rubbing his red nose. The extra intake of cocaine in his system made him extra alert and attentive to any small movement around. “Is he on the phone?”

“He is.” Donghyuck answers, still wondering why they’re not doing anything.

“Oh I know that look,” Mark laughs while looking at Donghyuck’s face structure. “We’re about to have some fun aren’t we?”

“They don’t know who we are if they think they can fuck up our plans.” Donghyuck mumbles with a pissed off tone and trudges towards the stairs- having a feeling that the Officer is surely looking at something on the window. Perhaps the same window where he threatened the girl-

“C-cool.”

Donghyuck barges into the room instantly catching Renjun off guard as he was talking into a phone. Balling his fist Donghyuck lunges to Renjun punching him on his already busted up face. “Fucking knew it!” He lands a fierce punch and grabs the phone placing it to his ear ignoring Yezi who cries out in the back worried about Renjun. Donghyuck points a gun towards Yezi causing her to rapidly silence up. “Get the fuck here.” He grates through his teeth at her.

Meanwhile over the phone, he hears the familiar voice. “I assume this is Lee Donghyuck on the phone,”

“How do you know my name?” Donghyuck asks already anticipating to connect the dots to what Mark said. It really could be the Parole Officer, Na Jaemin. “You know what, let me make this quick and clear. I spotted some of your men by the garage and around the house. Get them off or I start shooting.” Donghyuck is quick to pulling the curtains open before grabbing Yezi by her neck and slamming her against the window throwing the phone after placing it on speaker and pulling out his gun.

“Donghyuck w-”

BANG!

Yezi screams out shutting her eyes as soon as Donghyuck shoots out the glass window. “CLEAR ENOUGH FOR YOU?!” He yells out the window down to the officers.

“SEIZE FIRE DON’T SHOOT! I REPEAT DON’T SHOOT!” Officer Na Jaemin yells out to the other officers, with his hands up. “Seize your fire Donghyuck! Don’t shoot!”

“Give me the phone Renjun!” Donghyuck yells out to Renjun on the floor. Like a wounded puppy, Renjun gets up with more blood pouring out on his mouth and nose as he scampers to the phone and hands it to Donghyuck. Grabbing the phone from him, Donghyuck continues to point the gun to Yezi, who’s got her eyes shut tight as she’s trembling with tears running down her face. “Get them out now or the next thing I target is her.”

“Tell him about that Officer I shoot in the head.” Donghyuck hears Mark from behind. Mark leans by the door lighting up his brown wrapped weed stick. He looks down seeing the carpet is stained with blood from Renjun, who’s face is botched up making Mark chuckle. “Border jumper, what happened?”

“He was snitching like a bitch.” Donghyuck comments for Mark to hear before talking back to the Officer. “If you think I’m bluffing, you’ll see blood flying out.”

“You’re going out of line Donghyuck-”

“I didn’t ask any questions! Get them out now and then we talk!” Donghyuck cuts the call closing the curtains- yet the wind still blows lightly on the curtains. He pushes Yezi to the ground next to Renjun before pointing the gun to the both of them. “I’m asking this once,” Donghyuck shoots the floor making both Renjun and Yezi yell out by the blowing wind of the gun shot on the floor. “Who’s idea was it to call the police?” Donghyuck asks, knowing very well that if the Officers couldn’t hear the screaming, then they most likely heard the gunshot. “Mark check on the monitor, make sure their all going.”

Mark puffs out once before leaving, he winks to Yezi on the ground. “I’ll be back for you babygirl,”

“Renjun, do you want to end up with a bullet in your head?”

With her hands and legs tied with a scarf that Jeno found resting around the room, Dae’s laying on her bed with her mouth stuffed with socks that Jeno found in her drawers. Ever since being placed in my room, he walked around lazily and wobbly as he tried to tie her up. His headache only irritated him more. The fact that he was trapped in a room with a girl he’s watched from afar, a girl that he had fantasies about- the fact that he was trapped with her and his head kept pounding only made him irked with annoyance. Maybe he shouldn’t have drank so much. After tying her up, he warned her not to do anything stupid and ended up going downstairs to help Renjun carry the younger sister into the room upon helping Renjun, he went downstairs (while Donghyuck ran upstairs because Yezi tried to escape) and found Mark sniffing some cocaine on the table.

“Mark we should get out of here.” He said to his brother who was down on the table blocking one nose airway while sniffing in the powdered substance from the table.

“Jeno, you’ve got a beautiful girl laying on her bed right now.” Mark started, his reddened eyes telling Jeno just how high he was. “Seize the moment, everything you want to do, simply look around and do it. You’re free. Enjoy these minutes right now, because what will happen next, will be dark. Which is why I’m preparing myself.” Getting back on the table sniffing out the lines, Jeno got up leaving Mark alone. Not wanting to confront the girl who he’s admired since, he walked into the kitchen taking his brother advice. Everything and anything he wanted to do... he didn’t want to remember hurting anybody or even remembering what his fantasies wanted to do to her- so he looked around the fridge and cabinets for anything strong like alcohol or even wine.

Getting out the kitchen, he ended up finding a wine cellar. With various flavors and brands from all around the world, this wine collection was absolute heaven for Jeno. Best part of it was that the flavors where from the weakest to the strongest. He took 4 bottles the absolute strongest and found himself in Dae’s room- chugging down the 2lt glass bottle of a bitter drink until his mind went blank. His eyes couldn’t help but admire the red mood lighting around her room. Not only did it create a dim sensual feeling but it made Jeno feel really drunk as the only color he saw was red.

He walks around her room, touching on all her stuff, opening and closing drawers either observing or blanking out. Dae’s eyes observe his every move- the fear of running away so strong but after what happened and how she heard Yezi screaming out and some bullets shooting out- she didn’t want an encounter with the person shooting the bullets. Her best option was to comply, and so far the only thing she could do was sit still and watch a drunken Jeno barely standing up straight and leaning here and there every while.

He leans forward on her desk as an attempt to get balance, but also because of a book that’s wide open. Her handwriting looked so decent and modest, as if she herself were a machine. Even in his drunken state he felt her superiority. Something as simple as handwriting showed her status and her level in society. Jeno liked that she didn’t even need to try to show how powerful she has, the air she breathed showed that she was a somebody. Picking up the book and stumbling back a bit, he trips his way over to the bed before sitting down with a hard fall. He groans from his head being dizzy before placing the book on her lap. “R-read it,” He slurs out before swinging the bottle back into his mouth.

Dae looks down to the book in her lap and back to the drunk male who could barely keep his eyes open. “Why?” She shrieks back when his body fumbles on the bed over her legs before weakly placing himself beside her.

“I said read it,” His words come out slower then before but his eyes are now open- attempting to stay open as he looks down on the page.

Taking a deep breath trying to calm her heart, her eyes scan over the words. She wrote this entry today after getting back from the meet and greet. “I swear on my entire life that I will work as hard as my father, to achieve all that I’ve reached out for. I will work my ass off until I see myself going higher instead of lower. After the sight my eyes bare witnessed to this evening, I know for sure that I never want to be poor. Upon finishing my home school studies and started attending an actual university, I was stunned by the different types of people who’ve walked crazy journey’s to get to where they were. One of the guys who I’ve recently started to get to know, was this boy from China. I mean, he’s lived here most of his life, but I found it interesting how he’s from China. His name is Renjun-”

“I knew I wasn’t tripping when I saw his name.” Jeno mumbles upon hearing his friend’s name. “Carry on,”

Dae bites her lip, feeling aware and cautious of her writing. She knows what it’ll led to but she prays that Jeno’s half conscious doesn’t hear a thing. Little does she know, Jeno’s conscious is wide awake upon hearing his friend’s name. Why would she be writing his name?

“His name is Renjun. He’s an Art student. I think he mentioned something about art therapy...Can’t you do something else? Like-huk-” Jeno’s hand lifts up to her throat, slapping it before carefully massaging yet squeezing it. Dae feels his fingers tightening on her neck and she shrieks in pain.

“Is there something wrong with your voice box?” He questions blinking his heavy eyes. “I said read it.”

Once letting go, Dae pants out and looks down on her book feeling angsty. “Art therapy. He’s a top achiever in all his classes. On Monday, we were told that all the top achievers would be treated lunch at the ‘Royale Cuisine’. I thought it would only be the rich and smart students, little did I know that he would be there. You could just see it, he didn’t fit into our type of world, but yet he tried. As if thinking that coming to our country and working hard will get him somewhere. I hated him at first, because it was funny how he thought he had a chance, but now believe it or not, I’m actually intimidated by him, by how he thinks he has a chance. After the trip, his invalidated self came up to me and he actually spoke. I can’t even believe that he had the nerves to come and talk to someone like me. His conversation was too useless to remember but I do remembering telling him that my dad owned part shares to the school and that anything he said badly against me would only get him in deep trouble- basically just letting him know of my position above him and him below me.”

Dae licks her dry lips feeling hot and embarrassed reading her words out loud, trying to lower her tone to one of humility, her words still strike so hard and are so condescending on their own.

“Someone like him, can’t just walk up and talk to me. It’s humiliating and embarrassing on both hands- for me to be seen with him and for him to think he even has a chance. I watched him walk off and he went off to this other boy who I’ve started to notice more. I don’t know his name- but I’ve caught him a few times secretly taking pictures of me. I don’t want to be retarded and think he was taking pictures of me when he wasn’t- but I will say I’ve caught him on multiple occasions with a camera in his hands and aimed at me. So to make it easier for him, I walked up to Renjun and told him to take me a picture and keep it for his friend- so that his friend will stop taking pictures of me. He was confused but took it and went his way. I saw that creepy stalker again today, I saw him enter a car with other low class friends and I even think that Renjun was there. Someone like him, like Renjun, should never be allowed out of the cage he crawled out of. In their poverty stricken world, they are the dogs that scamper around for food- they are the type to run around with their brains gone and rob stores to get money so that they can even try to afford food. How can he even dream that big to think he can talk to me? That’s why I have to work hard- to make sure that someone like him will never forget his place. Someone like him will always be made for the - AHHH!”

Dae finds herself yelping out squeezing her eyes shut when he throws the glass bottle roughly against the wall- he rolls and stumbles out of bed bending down to get another bottle. “Why’re you yelling princess? Are you disgusted that someone like me from my poverty stricken world, managed to get in your highly praised house? You’re a bitch. A heartless-”

He scoffs still standing woozily and forcing the thub off the green beverage bottle. Popping it open he takes a deep swing of the liquid, his face imitating the harsh taste as it pours down his throat. Barely even finishing the bottle his legs loosely lumber to Dae on the bed and he grabs her cheeks tightly crushing and squashing her jaws inflicting hot-blooded pain on her. Tears form by her eyes and her face becomes red- just what he wanted to see.

“You think you’re so high above the clouds?” His lip quivers with anger. “I bet if I punched you in the face right now you’d bleed like every other low life dog, wouldn’t you?"

“No- please don’t-”

“Please?” Jeno babbles out. “You know that word? Someone like you, a rich narcissistic bitch, knows the word please?” Jeno jerks her head once with vigorous anger. His grip tightens on her jaws as he still squashes her cheeks watching the tears leave her eyes and her lips quivering. His words come out flimsy and fragile while looking deep into her eyes. “Tell me Dae. Why am I poor and you’re rich?” Dae looks into his wobbly eyes while her own tears pour out silently. “Is your money guaranteeing your safety right now? Is it protecting you from someone like me? You’re such a bitch.”

Jeno seems to come back to his senses when he blinks. He clenches his jaw before picking some socks on the floor and stuffing it in her mouth.

“Shut your mouth if you don’t want to die.” He pushes himself off her looking around her room. “I may be a low life, but at least I can keep my room clean.”

He bends down still with a heavy brain mixed with alcohol and begins cleaning. Once in a while, he slits his finger tips accidently while trying to pick up the broken glass pieces on the floor. He groans wiping off the blood on his jeans before carrying on to clean the floor, until there’s nothing left on it. He rubs on his eyes picking up another drink and laying on the edge of the table drinking, while looking at her. His alcoholic mind blurred with her belittling words- looking at her was beginning to piss him off.

Upon finishing 2 and a half (not to mention that one bottle he broke) out of the 4 bottles he brought in, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, holding onto his head jolting straight whenever his body slightly jerked back. He feels tired and weak- but Mark and them aren’t yet done.

Dae gets startled with shock when his heavy body falls flat on the bed passing out completely. Her eyes widen seeing the weightless body of the big man on her bed. Hastily, she fumbles with the scarf tied tightly on her wrist trying to get it off. Her wrists buckle and turn in uncomfortable angles while her teeth grip on the scarf material pulling with all her might. Whatever this knot was- it was messy, drunk and complicated but eventually she breaks free from the hard material with red bruises around her wrist. She quickly tries to unfasten the material around her ankles too, realizing it’s faster to attempt to get one leg out.

Picking the sock out her mouth throwing it on the floor when she gets one leg out with a struggle, she carefully sets on foot down on the floor glancing down at his sleepy face. Finding balance while setting her other foot down on the ground, she attentively gets up hearing her heart race against her chest.

The moment she lets out a shaky breath of relief his eyes snap open- his pupil freezing her in place. Her gasp is shortened as she bolts for the door but is instantly grabbed from her shirt before both his heavy arms haul over her mouth and body- one tightly over her mouth and the other compressed around her torso. Even though drunk- his grasp around her is paired with precision and weight. With much pain being inflicted upon her, her arms shoot up grabbing onto his own arm around her mouth trying to prey him off so that she can breath.

His tongue pokes against the side of his mouth as he shakes his head at her poor attempt. “With all the riches you have, you couldn’t even afford lessons on self defense? What bull crap are you trying to do?”

In that moment, her door opens up with Renjun. Dae’s eyes are wide open when seeing his clobbered face full of swellings, bleeding forehead, nose and lip and raptured busted lip and nose. He holds onto his jaw with his own hands his eyes enlarging.

“What the hell happened to your face?” Jeno too is in shock upon seeing his friend’s face.

Meanwhile Renjun’s eyes are engulfed by the red lighting room as he witnesses Jeno manhandling Dae to her bed- picking her up and swinging her back with ease. He grabs the scarf she broke free from and begins tying her up while also kneeing her stomach down on the bed. She cries out in pain- causing Renjun to watch defensively. His face already hurt from Donghyuck using brute force against him- when he took the blame for Yezi’s suggestion.

He was sure that her room was red instead of his own blood blurring his vision. But the sight of Jeno being violent has him blinking in pain. With his lip being slit, his mouth hurt whenever it opened by he needed to stop Jeno. “Jeno stop-”

Jeno groans out holding onto his head when he’s done tying up Dae on her wrists and ankles even tighter. “Shut up Renjun. My head hurts like a bitch Renjun.”

“Please let her go-”

“Why do you even care right now?” Jeno bursts out asking his friend who’s following behind him while he attempts to open up another bear bottle. “Why do you care so much about these heartless girls?”

“Because this is wrong.” Renjun lets out weakly and closes the door behind him. “Did you hear those bullets earlier? Jeno, Donghyuck is losing his mind and the police are outside right now. Mark and Donghyuck both know what they’re in for- but we don’t. Jeno just stop for a minute-” Renjun rounds around Jeno holding onto his shoulder trying not to cry. The only person who would listen to him was Jeno, and if that didn’t work, then he’d have to kiss everything goodbye.

“Why’re you crying Renjun?” Jeno asks seeing the brim of tears pool by Renjun’s eyes.

Renjun ignores Jeno and ask. “Why did you even agree to join them when you know deep down that this is wrong?”

“I wanted to see her.” Jeno rolls his eyes pointing to her. “But that was a complete waste. Fuck my head hurts.” He snorts a dark chuckle. “She’f fucked in the head-”

“Jeno! Look at you right now! If she’s fucked up in the head then what about you? You were supposed to be the bigger and better man out of-”

Jeno grabs onto his hair backing away with boiling rage. “Fuck Renjun- better man for who when those police are out there aiming at us? It’s no use fighting at all when we’re already being accused-”

“I’m angry too! I’ve done nothing but worked hard but now I’ll be charged as a criminal with my stupid brother.” Renjun pants out. “Jeno, it’s hard being wrongfully accused but it’s even worse when the people looking down on you are are clods who have never read a book or traveled more then twenty miles from the place where they were born. Please, Jeno.”

Looking up into Renjun’s eyes seeing that one is clogged with blood and the other is swelling around, Jeno can just imagine the amount of pain Renjun has endured this night alone just wanting to stand up for this being wrong. Jeno breaths out even with his throbbing head- he can barely stand up straight but when he does he nudges his head towards Dae on the bed. “Is she a clod?”

Renjun breaths out lowly holding onto his left eye. “Jeno we need-”

“I don’t want to do anything without cleaning you up,” Jeno gets down picking up his beer bottle. “You look like shit,”

Renjun gulps down a lump acknowledging the discomfort and soreness all over his face. He looks to Dae on the bed who has her eyes wandering all over his face. “I’m sorry to ask this but, do you have medicine?”

Dae nods her head her heart swelling in pain upon the face of a person who has been trying to simply get his friends out the house. “There’s medicine in the washroo-”

“Save it princess, we don’t need your help.” Jeno’s groggily lets out, still bitter about her view on Renjun. The door creaks open causing all eyes to move to the direction of the door.

Mark’s eyes are in awe looking up to the twinkling lights that set a red mood theme- unaware of the eyes that fall on him. His eyes move over to the bed where Dae is placed and he can’t help but be lust struck by her position, especially combined with the red lightening around the room.

“Your sister should really know when to shut her mouth, I wish her luck with Haechan, he’s sure gonna lose it,” Mark chortles inhaling onto his weed turning his gaze to Jeno crouching on the floor and Renjun with one hand to his face. “Border jumper, things would’ve gone easier if you stayed in that car. You wouldn’t have been beaten to a fucking pulp? You’ve chosen death.”

"Why are you here?" Jeno asks when he senses his brother glaring holes into Renjun’s head. It’s hard enough feeling like his whole world is spinning, but to have his brother on the edge and influenced to knock out Renjun has Jeno trying to focus and stay clear of his brother. Jeno gets up grabbing Renjun’s wrist making wearily line for the door- only to be blocked by Mark.

“You wanna leave?”

“We can’t leave him alone with her,” Renjun whispers hoping Jeno can hear.

Jeno rolls his head around lazily looking at Mark. Mark sees the impatience in his brothers eyes, not only is he dead drunk, but he’s pissed, only making Mark laugh.

“Are you guys done searching the house? We’ve overdue our stay.” Jeno grunts out bitterly.

“You can make yourself comfortable in the car,” Mark moves out the way but Renjun un-grips his wrist from Jeno’s hold looking at Mark.

“What are you planning on doing now?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know snitch,” Mark walks away from Renjun edging close to the bed where Dae lays. “How you doing baby girl?" He asks causing her to shift uncomfortably and away from him. He gets one knee on the bed with a coy smirk on his face looking down at Dae. He wanted her. Badly.

“Mark-”

“Why can’t I have my thoughts in peace?” Mark groans shutting his eyes. "I'm not gonna repeat myself border jumper. Get out.”

Renjun on the other hand enquires again while forcing Jeno’s weak grip away- again. “Mark haven’t you guys caused enough trouble? Can’t we just leave? Enough is enough-”

“Enough is enough.” Mark mimics in a high pitched voice. “You sound like a fucking little girl nagging. Leave.”

“No.” Renjun surprisingly stands his ground.

Mark turns his head to Dae leaning over with the bunt in his hand passing it through her lips. “Since you like expensive things, why not put this in your mouth. Don’t drop it.” Mark cheekily warns before shutting her eyes with his other two fingers.

Before anything else can happen Dae hears ruffling and pounding going against the wall. She peeks her eyes open before shutting them tight again sharply inhaling her own breath to not draw out a cry and also not to make the stick between her lips fall.

“How many fucking times do you want me to remind you that I’m not your brother? I’ll kill you with my bare fucking hands and deport you back to your fucking country you cunt.” Mark has Renjun hurled up against the wall with his bare veiny hand around Renjun’s throat.

Renjun’s face is red tightened in grief while gripping onto Mark’s hand. Jeno lunges in trying to get Mark off of Jeno- but it’s too late when Mark lands a straight punch right into Renjun’s face causing him to get knocked out on the spot.

“Fucking cunt.” Mark mumbles when being pushed violently from the back just as Jeno attends to Renjun. Crouching down and picking up his friend from the shoulder, Jeno struggles to be balanced straight and sways to the side from Renjun’s heavy lumpy body to his own mass weight.

Dragging his own mass as well as Renjun’s body weight out the red room, Jeno leaves behind a panicked Dae alone with Mark. The bedroom closes shut with Mark cockily turning around as he nears the bed with Dae slightly trembling. To Mark, her vulnerability is the hottest thing he’s seen. Hand tied in front, legs trying to break free of the knot around her ankles, weed stick in between her lips and the coated sinister red room, he can’t help but bite his lip at the sight of her.

“You know, we were in the house when you and your sister had that little chat about ideal types and whatnot. And I’m curious to know, did you really have a sugar daddy? Did you have sex with him? Even with all the money your father has, you still went ahead and had a fucking sugar daddy?” He chuckles removing his own jersey remaining in a black t-shirt. “So tell me, how good did he fuck you?”

His hands gently skim the scarf material tied around her ankles, before his attention diverts to her shoes and he begins to unfasten them. His eyes preying up on her slim and juicy thighs with such lust. A leering smile coats his lips once he gets her shoes off and looks at her small feet. He sinks into the bed like a predator about to devour his prey slowly crawling up her legs while his head lowers allowing his nose to smell on her smooth delicate skin.

“I’m guessing he was old,” Mark lowly laughs when pressing little kisses over her belly that’s exposed by her crop top. “You know guys with money, they only have sugar babies for sex because no rational girl can climb up on their tiny dicks. So tell me baby girl, did you climb up his tiny dick?”

Dae’s breath hitches when his lips move up to trail against her neck planting kisses. Feeling him suck a hickey on her neck she shuts her eyes feeling mixed emotions swirl in her stomach. Unintentionally her body reacts to his teeth that graze up her earlobe. Her reaction edges him to breath down her neck lapping his slippery wet tongue over the bruised hickey spot. With his legs on either side of her body, he feels himself growing hard with how heated up she was. Moving back a little, he admires the hickey he gave her as he removes his weed bunt from her lips. In haling it and blowing it on her trembling lips he chuckles.

“If you did climb on that fucker’s little dick, you’ll be surprised when you see my massive cock,” Without wasting another moment, his tongue brushes up against her lips before he sucks-hastily getting into her mouth with his greedy tongue. The kiss is sloppy, messy and Dae finds it the most difficult to breathe.

“I bet you’ve never been kissed like this before.”

S1:EP 16-20

5 minutes before

“If I even so see one cop car tailing us, we’ll kill them.” Donghyuck spits out through the phone before cutting it and turning to Mark who leans by the door way of Yezi’s room.

“Where’s your brother?”

“Who knows?” Donghyuck glares at Yezi on the bed. She’s back to being tied on her hands, as Donghyuck can’t trust her. The tears are still running out her eyes. It’s because of her he had to beat up his brother and now she’s crying as if he hit her. “What the fuck are you crying about now? Do you want me to give you a reason to cry?”

“Leave her alone,” Mark chuckles a little. “What the hell was that about? On the phone?”

“Bargaining with the officer. They intersect and the girls will get hurt.” Donghyuck gets his eyes off her crying face to her hands that are wrapped around a tight fabric of a scarf.

"Are we taking them? As sex slaves?" Mark questions, the thought of touching the girls tingles his senses.

"No, as wager so they don’t think we’re bluffing." Donghyuck shakes his head closing the curtains walking over to the bed. He runs his fingers through his hair removing his cap completely shaking his messy tossed hair. Mark takes a whiff of his weed. “This whole thing has fucking been brought out of proportion. We can’t afford to take them with us.”

"Actually, they could become sex slaves while we’re on the move.” Mark suggests.

"We go with them in the car, drive until we lose the cops and then ditch them when we're done?" Donghyuck thinks out his head. Following as his brain connects the dots to what Mark says. Donghyuck is hesitant in agreeing but his lips move and his voice projects what he knows Mark wants to hear. "Good plan,"

"I know." Mark says cockily.

"We still need a backup plan.” Donghyuck says. "For instance, we’re shot down while pulling out the driveway, even if we had to hurt the girls, we’d still be caught. We can’t afford getting caught. Or the drive way-"

"Burn it."

Donghyuck pauses, trying to figure out what Mark said. "Did you just say..."

"We.." Mark looks around Yezi’s room just as she looks up in horrid fear and he gestures around with his bunt. "Burn the house."

Donghyuck twists his head and this time it’s evident on his face that he doesn’t want to agree. “Mark I think you’ve smoked enough weed for tonight, put it down and-”

"The officers can't see with smoke around. They’ll be too occupied in the girls wellbeing. We find another way out and make a run for it,”

Donghyuck sighs.

“Come on Haechan.” Mark peers into his friend’s withering eyes. Mark knows how much Haechan hates when things don’t go according to plan, he also knows how stuck and conflicted his friend is, considering it’s not just the both of them but their brothers as well. Mark can only imagine how much pressure Donghyuck is feeling for involving Renjun. “You, me, Jeno, Renjun settle around and linger on for a few more minutes and then we burn it. The cops come charging in and we run off- with the duffle bags no need for the car if we’re at risk.”

Hearing the logic behind Mark’s words, Donghyuck nods his head seeing a plan he can agree to. “That sounds like a plan.”

“Good. How much time did you bargain for?” Mark asks before scoffing. “Do you really believe he’ll stick to his words? Officer Na? We can’t trust him, you know that right?”

Donghyuck nods his head. “I asked for 20 minutes, but I know they’ll be barking down in 10. All I know is that we have to leave as soon as possible. Have you have a duffle bag?”

Mark nods his head throwing the duffle bag over his shoulder to the ground. “Found these in the master bedroom. How much do you think we’ll get selling these?”

Donghyuck crouches down on the floor opening up the bag. His eyes enlarge as his hands run through his hair. Jewels, gold pieces, other ornaments and gadgets. “Fuck. Their filthy rich.” Donghyuck mumbles.

“Fucking bastards. The only filth here is you. Scampering around like dogs looking for bones.” Yezi quivers with tear venom in her eyes. “You don’t even have shame. You wanna burn down our house so you and your useless brothers can escape? You fucking beat him up without mercy.”

“Speaking of which,” Mark snickers at her outburst and pats the door. “I’ll check for your brother.” And he closes the door leaving an unbothered Donghyuck with a possessed Yezi. Possessed by anger.

“You people are monsters.” Yezi continues to tremble out of sheer anger more than fear. “Have you no mercy at all? No remorse? No humanity?”

Donghyuck ignores Yezi, still looking around the bag at the different jewels adorned, his hands scheming the different gadgets. According to Renjun, the owner of this house is an architect, so business related matters would be within all his gadgets. No humanity? Donghyuck rolls his eyes feeling generous. He picks them all up; the phones, laptops, tablets etc. getting up and planting them on the table. However looking down on her table he’s surprised to see an expensive laptop on the desk along with a tablet. Of course their father would also buy them these. Taking her gadgets instead, he places them inside the duffle bag- ignoring her continuous hate speech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people? What the fuck is wrong with you!? Normal people don't do this. Do you think just because you've robbed us you'll gain something? You're so pathetic.” Yezi’s mouth firing all the words that strike up in her heart. The distaste too severe for her to shut up. “You’re so fucking worthless. No amount of money will ever change that.”

Donghyuck finds himself looking around her room, nonchalant to her blabbers. His eyes scan for anything else that may be of value. Before scoffing up when finding something appealing to his eyes.

“You say I’m worthless?” He holds onto a test paper. “If I’m worthless for doing the unexpected, then you are worthless for these marks? 58 out of 100, is that your best? I scouted 80′s and 90′s in my school days. You’re even more worthless with these marks, but let me guess, since you’re some big shot family, society will overlook these marks right? And give you anything you want on a silver platter right?” Donghyuck taunts. “Worthless.”

Yezi being baffled curses out. “Fuck you. How dare you call me worthless you filthy bastard?”

“How dare I not.” Donghyuck mumbles going back to opening up her wardrobe and picking out anything that catches his eye. Without all the father's gadgets in the duffle bag, there's still room for more things the he and Mark can sell. Ignoring her tantrums, he continues to stuff the bag with clothes before moving to the window watching the officers outside. Hopefully Mark's plan works out well and they can leave without any eyes on them.

“Jewelry, electronics, thrifts, even clothes. You’re parents must be so ashamed of you.” Yezi ends up saying in huffs of anger. “Their lousy son, breaking into homes to create self worth by selling stolen goods. Are you even proud of yourself?”

Donghyuck picks up the phone, Yezi's phone, that’s on 7% and begins his search on locations. “What’s the address of this place?” Donghyuck asks unbothered.

“Why? You’re really planning on using me as a sex slave to fulfill your fucked up plan and escape?”

“Fucking hell,” Donghyuck sighs in disbelief. “Can’t you just cooperate for 2 fucking minutes? Aren’t you tired of bitching? Don’t you want to see your fucking rich father already? Just cooperate and I’ll fucking leave.”

“Fucking leave to your fucked up family?” Yezi pants out. “No. How can I cooperate with you, when you're planning to use me and my sister for you sick deeds! And why can't you cooperate with the police for 2 fucking minutes?"

"You're a pain." Donghyuck holds onto his neck. "I need to leave before I lose my brain here."

"You won’t leave. You need to go to jail for all this mess you’ve caused! Let your useless family see their shameful son!”

“Useless family? Is this how your parents raised you? To look down on families. What can I expect from a worthless class bitch.” Donghyuck turns his head in her direction with stern eyes. Not expecting his reaction, Yezi feels the urge to pounce on his family some more. He's getting tired of hearing her voice. “What’s the fucking address?”

She’s pissed that he feels no remorse whatsoever about what he’s doing. “You’re so shameless!”

“Fine. You wanna be stubborn? Be that way.” Donghyuck sighs, deciding he doesn’t want the address anymore. He's about to look away but the pent up frustration builds up in him and he turns towards Yezi to complain. "I fucking hate you rich people. Always feeling entitled to everything and wanting the fucking law to be taken seriously on those who aren't up to your level. What if I told you right now, that you and I aren't any different? I bet you the second you're in trouble or in a puddle, someone else takes the blame for your mess. The system is fucked up and you're just as fucked. It’s clear you lack the skills to live in the 'ordinary' world.” Donghyuck responds. “Otherwise you would’ve known that the world is a dark place. You getting robbed, is something that happens every where so get over it. You're not as special as you think.”

“You’re so awful. Is that what your family taught you?” Yezi shakes her head with tears brimming in her eyes. Tears of anger. “How dare you come in my fathers house and try to rob us and have the nerve to say the systems fucked? Hello am I the one disgracing my family?”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes sitting by the edge of the bed trying to think while ignoring her words.

“What can I expect from a low class worthless scumbag as yourself? No value, no integrity, no humility- nothing but cheap upbringing by-”

Donghyuck sighs leaning his head back with his eyes closed. "You and I both sweet cheeks. You're just like me.”

“You’re wrong. I am nothing like you.” Yezi spits. “I was raised much more privileged and dignified then you. Because I have two parents who love me. What would you even know about love? Nothing! You look like the type of guy who was rejected, thrown to the curb- all because your parents didn’t love you. My family raised me with love. Something that you can’t relate to-”

Yezi's tantrum speech is endless and her nagging voice is the only voice fueling up the room, Donghyuck tries not to be enraged by her words. Yet the images coming to his mind of his family, sets him on edge. What would she even know about love when it was given on a silver spoon? His own father’s prime example of love was to follow his heart and leave his family behind so that he could unit with his new lover. His mother’s prime example of love, that can even be described as the bane of her existence, is to always be together and survive as a family. If it weren’t for his mother, Donghyuck knows that he would’ve long abandoned his mother the way his father did. But because she’s been consistent in keeping the family together- no matter how much trouble he caused or how long he would’ve been locked up for- his mother always had her arms open for her son to return-

“You’re not worthy of love, or any type of affection. You are a crude pathetic excuse of a human being. Instead of taking the blame you're throwing it to far more superior people then yourselves. You've got two legs and hands, yet the only thing you can think of is causing trouble and expecting to bare fruits. The only fruits you bare are of pain, so it’s no wonder your parents never showed you any love.” Yezi’s voice continues to nag, bringing Donghyuck out of his own thoughts and into Yezi’s hateful spite words. “Your parents failed at raising you. You are nothing but a product of failure who resorts to using his useless brain to fucking up people’s lives. It's clear that you're only this way because of your pathetic fami-"

“You're talking so much crap right now. Can't you just shut up?” Donghyuck groans out in anger. He gets up running his hand down his face. "You think you're better then me? Right now you're the one proving to me how much of a bitch you are-"

“You’re the real bitch here.” Yezi strikes. "A low life bitch-"

Donghyuck grumbles as he gets down to zip up the duffle bag. “You’re getting on my last nerve. Shut up.”

"Why? Because I'm telling the truth? Because you're a disappointment to your family?"

“It’s either you’re the biggest disappointment in your family or you just like talking a lot of shit.” Donghyuck’s jaw tightens when spotting the Officer Na who sticks out 10 fingers.

"Talking shit?" Yezi pipes up after a second of silence. "I don't know anything about shit, so tell me, does your father talk shit, or maybe your mother? In fact, while talking about your mother, tell me, does she ever regret giving birth to you?” Yezi voices out while watching him stand by the window. He stands there, peeking out the window and attempting an escape in his mind, meanwhile, Yezi thinks of her dad. The thought of these boys using her and sister makes her so upset that the only thing she can do is cry. The tears well up by the brim of her eyes, but she doesn't want to let them out. Not in front of a low life. Her crying would only make him feel good. “I wish your whole family dies.” Yezi spits out with venom sniffing back her tears.

"Just shut fucking shut up already!"

“I really hope your stupid family dies. Your pitiful brother, your scornful friends, your hopeless family-"

"Aren't you tired of talking-"

Yezi yells out again. "All of them! Your garbage father, your disgraceful mother! I hope you all die and go to hell! Just die! Die! Die! Die!"

"You finished?" Donghyuck asks after closing the curtains when seeing the other man who's standing with Officer Na, peek at the window. That must be their father. "I need you to shut up now."

However Yezi's eyes are drenched as the tears spill out nonstop. "I wonder if your mother ever feels ashamed of you, out of all of you, I hope she dies the fastest. For giving birth to such a thing like you, she should be punished in hell for committing the greatest sin of all."

By Yezi's ill mouth begging for his mother to die, he can't help but stop in place. His death glare egging Yezi. “Don't talk about my mum.” Being triggered by Yezi's sentence he deeply breathes in and tries to regain his composure. His mum is sick right now. She's been looking for means to pay off her medication refusing for any help from him. The last thing, he'd want right now is for his mother to die without him helping her to get the money she needed for treatment.

"Why shouldn't I talk about your wicked, shameful mother who's spoilt you rotten-"

"Shut up." He whispers trying to breathe in and out while closing his eyes.

"A disgraceful woman like her should be hanged and burnt and go straight to hell-"

By her absentminded sentence his hand is faster then her lips' when he sharply slaps her head to he side glaring down at her. "I said shut up!"

“Why should I stop? If I too had a son like you, I’d want to die! To be put into an early grave-”

He grabs onto her neck banging her against the headboard of her bed. “Do you wanna die-”

“At least if I die I have a clear conscious unlike you and you’re trashy-” Donghyuck bangs her again but her mouth doesn’t stop talking- only cutting him with her words with full force matching the fire in his eyes. “Your useless worthless mother will go to hell for raising such a disgusting-”

“Are you fucking deaf?”

“I’m not deaf you shitty bastarded! I'm just saying facts about your worthless, useless, pathetic mo-"

“I said close your fucking mou-”

“Or else what?” Yezi challenges not being able to back down even with Donghyuck grabbing her by her hair pulling towards his face. “You’ll teach me a fucking lesson?! What am I going to learn from someone with no value who's unlucky?”

“Do you want to be taught a lesson?” Donghyuck pants with rage.

“On how to be a useless mother who gives birth to disap-”

“Bitch.” Donghyuck’s hand, hard and tight when he smacks the side of Yezi’s face. Yezi’s breath hitches and she peeks back into Donghyuck’s burning red eyes.

“She must be so ashamed of you! You’re an unlucky bastarded only making those around you suffer-” Yezi’s eyes bulge out again as she gets another tight back hand across her face.

Donghyuck spits out. “I dare you to speak again!”

“You'll pay for this! You filthy! Cheap! Vain! Unlucky! Worthless! Useless! Pathetic! Miserable! Fucking–”

Donghyuck pins her tied hands above her head. “Unlucky? Me? Really?” In a quick move he grabs the material of her merch shirt ripping it off her body completely exposing her. She yelps kicking her legs up but he gets on top of her pinning her down on the bed. “I’m gonna enjoy making you my bitch.”

While Donghyuck throws the ripped material of her top on the floor, he reaches in his pocket for his corkscrew knife. Cutting the material of her white bra from the middle- he’s eyes darken as her boobs pop out and splatter side ways. From the way she rambled on and on made her sound like a child, however upon seeing her body Donghyuck feels excited and doesn't waste a second instantly covering her mouth.

Even though her mouth ran too much for his own liking, the sight of her breasts gives him edge to be inside of her.

Just as Donghyuck positions his hardened member against her shorts penetrating her covered core- Mark is in another room turning Dae over and allows his hands to go up her spontaneous sides and gifted behind, lifting up her skirt taking in the glorious view of her black lace underwear. His eyes are enlightened each time he takes in the sight of her body. In reality he never cared if a girl was rich or poor, all that mattered was for the girl to look after herself, and looking at Dae, he can tell that she pays extra attention to her body. His hands roam over her two firm and smooth behind instantly feeling pleased by how soft they feel. He smacks her ass once just to watch her butt shake. A sight to behold, he licks his lips his hands kneading on her flesh with desire and lust. But unlike Donghyuck, he takes his time in admiring Dae's precious ass. The cold rings press against her warm skin making her shiver arousing him more when seeing what the cold does to her shaking ass.

Dae grunts and whines softly when his hands begin massaging her- a little then she likes. Her eyes flutter closed when feeling her half thong slide in between her cheeks when, Mark, in his own world, grips her underwear watching the material disappear between her ass. He chortles in pleasure before sinking his face lower until Dae can feel another form of heat. His teeth biting on her ass- leaving kisses and hickies- The feel of his teeth sinking in makes her grunt and arch her back trying not to make a sound. She didn't want to make a sound, making a sound would only mean that she enjoyed it and that's the last thing she wants him to know- OR EVEN THINK. He paws her ass and grips her flesh smacking it and watching it change color. Mark takes his time, despite the time limit and enjoys each tingle when his pants seem to get tighter. His eyes were practically being mind fucked and his hands were stimulating his own urges. As Mark takes his time, giving Dae's body attention- Donghyuck is nothing like Mark.

Yezi is short of breath and trembling begging the predatorial eyes of Donghyuck.

"Please don't-" She cries, her voice lowering by how he's going. Reaching his sweatpants he pulls down his front releasing his hardness barely looking into her face when his knife breaks through her shorts watching her squirm and shakes. He smirks and viscously pulls aside her white panties- his dick having it’s own brain as it pokes into her. He spits down into her core and by a rapid instant she gasps by the moisture being stunned and truly afraid. Her lips are frozen shut only quivering as her eyes watch all that's happening to her.

"Don't-”

Her ear piercing scream erupts throughout the whole room the moment Donghyuck thrusts straight into her. He roughly pushes deeper into her smirking by her cries. He quickly let's her hair go covering her mouth while pushing the knife close to her neck as he continuously thrusts his hardness into her slamming himself roughly as pleasure shoots all over his body especially lower abdomen. "Ah fuck you're so tight shit." He fills his cock inside of her making sure his whole dick enters her warm, squishy core- "Ah shit! You feel so good aguh shit, oh fuck, agh," Donghyuck moans out incoherent words laying himself over her body his hips moving extremely fast. It's been a while since he's last been in a girl, but all the girls he's been in- have been so loose. However her body was just right, the feeling of her heat taking him easily after a while. "Ah shit, you're a virgin right?" Donghyuck can feel her mouth opening up and his ears can hear her inaudible sounds of desperation. Tossing the knife on the bed, he grabs her neck straggling her and blocking her airway. Looking into her tear filled eyes that shut with a mixture of hatred and the burning slow pain...that slowly turns into something else. Her mind is muffled with extreme stress as she refuses to let those feelings out...the feelings of pain turning into...sadness of being used? She refuses completely refuses- her tears still pouring out while she squeezes her eyes shut. Her hands struggle in the knot using her tied hands to try and push him but Donghyuck uses the hand on her neck to pin her arms down again.

“Fucking bitch.” Donghyuck moans out- his strokes hitting differently and deeper. “I’m gonna fill your pretty little whole with all of my cum.” He whispers into her ear licking on the brim still having his way- getting dizzy from all the pleasure he’s in, he’s so amerced into her that he accidently lets her mouth go- she shakes her head screaming out her sisters name but as quick as his hand leaves her mouth- it's back and he slaps her cheek forcing her head to the side and keeping his hand on her hair grabbing the knife planting to her neck. “I dare you to make a sound.” He grabs her face forcing her on her headboard as he changes his thrusts into rough strokes pounding into her- her cries coming out arousingly for Donghyuck- who thinks she’s moaning. But at some point- as all the pain subsides, she grunts angrily at the pleasure boiling into the pits of her stomach. She didn’t want this. “Dae-” Her mouth keeps rambling- yet her voice gets hoarse with each pump his cock produces into her.

Jeno downstairs- hears the scream the first time Yezi let’s it out and ignores it. He lazily continuous to whip out the blood with a damp warm towel on his passed out friend- as he failed to find the first aid kit. Renjun, still knocked out- jolts up when Yezi screams out again. In pain his eyes widen and his head snaps to Jeno. His heart beats with worry and he peeks at Jeno. “Why haven’t you helped them? Why are they screamin- Jeno-”

“Renjun-”

“Jeno I don’t like this.” Renjun breathlessly talks out feeling dizzy and drowsy. The adrenaline over his body striking up his nerves and paranoia.

“Renjun-” Jeno groans out when Renjun flinches by the contact of the hard cloth.

“Jeno-” Renjun gets up grumpily. “Please-”

“We’ll help them after- you’re in-”

“How can you be so heartless?” Renjun panics with stress. “We’re here and they’re screaming!”

“Sh- shit” Donghyuck in the room groans as he thrusts into Yezi once more, his hard heavy thrusts turn into slow, long strokes as he feels himself pouring out in pleasure erupting in pleasure. Staying still for a few seconds as he fills her with his cum. “All mine-” he pants as he kisses her trembling lips roughly before going slowly and eventually softly. Her mind still hazy from the fucking, mascara running down her cheeks as he chuckles at the fucked out image of her in front of him.

“Still wanna run your mouth?” he softly asks as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear- he pulls out slowly. A tiny whine escaping her from the emptiness of his member. Her worn out eyes going down to his cock that was coated in cum- tears filling up her eyes again. She watches a wet string line of whiteness flowing from his member.

Her eyes still in black out dots cries out silently filling unclean- still crying out her sisters name. Her low shaky breathes and pants reach Donghyuck’s ears and he groans out sitting on the edge of her bed cleaning himself with the torn shirt.

Dae, on her back, in her room struggles to close her legs when the baby blue vibrator Mark found under her bed fits perfectly into her tight hole as his fingers work on her swollen clit. Cum trailed down her pussy, lubricating her asshole which Mark still found fascination upon- while pumping his own cock. He changes her position again, wanting another view. With her face stuffed to the bed and her butt propped out with her legs spread open on demand, it’s difficult for her to closer her legs- even harder to stop them from shaking and trembling.

Eyebrows pushing together, her mouth slowly gapping, legs shaking and sweat coating her chest and forehead- feeling her stomach twirl with the need to let go, she edges on refusing to please his oggling eyes. "Come on babygirl, let me taste you, fuck. I wanna see you leak," Not ready to let go, a small grunt leaves her lips, curling her toes as the coil in her stomach tightens- she’s taken by surprise when the vibrator bursts out of her tight whole by the amount of squirts that leave her whole by force. She closes her eyes in tears- her legs shaking while Mark marvels out by her squirts.

"Ah, Ah! Yes, fucking cumming... I'm gonna cum!" He says as the other hand that was on his dick stroked hard and fast. Mark slaps her ass multiple times turning her body around on the bed so that her face was now in view. Not minding the tears- he grabs her shirt pulling her up and in a quick movement both his hands grab the edge of her shirt and he pulls roughly tearing it up watching her boobs pop out- “Fuck yes.” Mark moans out- fapping harder, his own set of cum flows out his dick onto her chest and he moves up trying to force his hard dick in her mouth. She twits and turns her head- but when the knife comes out and parts her lips- she has no choice but to look into his eyes in unease as her tongue comes out and licks his tip.

Mark hisses at the contact. He grabs his own base rubbing his cock in onto her mouth. He fucks himself in and out of her mouth grabbing a hold of her hair. Watching her gag before closing her eyes tightly.

“Fuck baby,” he groans out, “So fucking good.”

Dae doesn’t know why she let Mark use him- when minutes ago she was fighting and resisting his touch. But the moment she heard her sister- her baby sister scream out her name- her whole body froze. The pain in Yezi's voice- blocked out the sneaky fingers of Mark that entered her when she was distracted from the scream. From what Mark mentioned- Dae only thought of the worst. Could Donghyuck be doing what Mark was doing to her?

She feels useless alternating between fast and shallow when swallowing and taking in Mark’s dick in her mouth. Mark edged himself- loving the feel of her warm mouth that got him on the brink of bliss.

The sounds of his ecstasy fills the dark red room. Deep gasps, shorts breaths, hisses, throaty grunts, quiet moans. He was basically masturbating with her body and mouth- so when a clouded Jeno busts into the room in attempt to proving to Renjun that the boys where doing nothing with the girls, catching his brother on top of Dae and fucking her mouth- he’s beyond enraged and his eyes are snapped in paralyzing shock. Snapping out of it, he pounces on his brother tackling him to the ground- his fists catch his brother, Mark, off guard as he continues to strike blow after blow-

His intoxicated and tipsy brain is in pure dejection when seeing the girl he’s admired lay motionless on her bed, her legs open and her eyes trained to the ceiling as the tears slowly leave her eyes. While Mark is still on the ground- Jeno gets on the bed taking off his own jacket pulling her skirt to cover her wet parts. He can’t even bring himself to look into her eyes- but when he lifts her stiff body up covering her with the jacket - he lightly hits her cheek. “Hey, hey, stay with me Dae, stay with me,” As drunk and clouded as his brain is, the complete zoned out stare she gives- springs all his attention on her. “Dae- Dae- I need you to listen to me-”

Dae doesn’t even hear a thing when looking into Jeno’s lips. She can see they are moving, she can feel his hand wiping on the cum that’s dripping out her mouth, she can see him-but all that’s in her head is her sister. Her little sister, being defenseless against a grown guy forcing himself in her. “I couldn’t even protect her,” Dae cries out weakly. “My sister,” She hiccups but Jeno consistently shakes her, his own eyes suddenly watering.

Is this what Renjun was feeling? Powerless to stop all the deeds being done.

Whatever Renjun felt- Jeno knew it was nothing like the emotions he felt when looking into the eyes of the girl he failed to protect from the destruction him and his brothers have caused her family. “Dae, you need to listen to me. You can save your sister-”

Jeno’s words are cut off when a heavy blow knocks him off the bed. Mark stands up whirling his hand around as he glares death eyes at his brother. “What the fuck is your problem-"

“Dae go now!” Jeno yells out when Mark goes over to him grabbing his shirt.

Prior to Jeno entering Dae’s room- Renjun limps around the empty living room waiting on Jeno- as seconds turn to minutes Renjun feels oddly strange. His eyes looking out the curtains watching the officers climb the fence and running towards the back where he couldn’t see. Time is moving fast and it only makes him worried- especially after seeing the cop- he tries to climb up the stairs, but his leg stings. He keeps forcing himself- if only he can get himself on the first floor. If only he can reach Donghyuck and try talking to him again. He knows Donghyuck has a limit to when it comes to hurting people.

And as Renjun takes a step at a time up the stairs- Donghyuck is still seated on the edge of the bed flicking the corkscrew blade in his hand open and shut. His eyes are fixed on the broken window as his ears listen to the little girl behind him let out weak cries. He’s emotionless, trapped in a state of limbo just listening to her sweet cries of sorrow. Broken and sad. Her cries sounding similar to the one he'd hear his mum weep alone in her room whenever she felt hopeless. It feels like a trance, he can't see Yezi, but he sees his mum. Vulnerable, alone and sad. The last thing he wanted was to have sex with Yezi- to rape her, the last thing he wanted was to disappoint his family. Again. Fail his mum, again. Make his whole family ashamed. Once again, he let his emotions get the better of him and as a result he's brought back to the days as a kid when it was only him and his mum.

Single mother. Broke. Heartbroken. Lost. The only thing he remembered about his dad was how much he hurt his mum and degraded her so much that he allowed for others to do so as well. When his dad left, he left his mother burdened and shattered. While Donghyuck was just a boy, who wanted his mum to no longer be in pain, Haechan (his alter ego) had a bad temper and hated seeing his mum in tears. From an early age, he would lash out whenever and where ever, because people would bad mouth his mother. He wasn't the type of kid to take nonsense, so it was engraved into him at an early age- in order not to let people talk bad about his mum, he would let people talk bad about him instead. He could take it, he really could. He couldn't stand to hear his mother crying and thinking suicidal thoughts. So he allowed himself to be the bad guy, to take on all the hate anyone would throw. The more gruesome and dark he'd be, the more attention was off his mother and on him. Of course some would say it dates back to how she was a bad mother- but to his own mother, Donghyuck would never allow himself to look down on his mother.

Maybe it's how all women sounded when they cried, but Donghyuck can't differentiate the voices between his mum and the girl behind him. Her tears seclude him from the personality he evolved into. Haechan seems nowhere in sight- it's only the little boy Donghyuck feeling ashamed and remorseful for his actions.

The moment the room is silent, Donghyuck carefully turns his head to the side.

The pain still there. Tangible in her heart and soul, she whimpers while hugging her body shielding herself from the preying eyes of the cruel rapist. Donghyuck quietly sighs out. He wants to say something. He wants to apologize, but her bare back causes a heavy weight to befall upon his shoulders. Would his mother be proud of him?

"Stop crying." He lets out lowly. "Please don't cry..." he whispers.

Yezi's hoarse voice breaks into the silence as she quietly cries, quietly calling her sisters name and choking on her own tears.

Donghyuck’s jaw trembles. He kept falling, failing, getting tricked and losing a piece of himself every time he was out with Mark- and if he’s honest, also when he was out alone. As time passed, it no longer became about shielding his mother, it just enveloped into him to be ruthless. To others although he looked worthless, pathetic and a bad son, what those people never saw were the times he’d pay for his mother’s surgery, buy food and groceries for the house, or pay for his brother’s high tuition fees- All he wanted to do, was make the people he cared for to be happy.

Who could ask for a better life then that?

But seeing the girl, Yezi shivering and exposed- his walls crack and break. He raped her.

He gets up from the bed picking up some clothes on the floor. Getting close to her, his eyes flame in remorse when seeing her red blotched face and torn clothes. He really did that?

“Are you cold?” He finds himself asking as he clings onto her hands and breaks the scarf off that tied her- holding tight when she tries to pull away. Having changed his mother many times when she was weak- his grip on Yezi doesn’t wither while he dresses her up in a yellow short that seemed long enough, keeping silent as she whispers for him to die and how much she hates him and how he’s a rapist.

BANG!

Donghyuck’s head snaps to the door and he holds onto his own gun when the door bursts open and Jeno stands there panting and bleeding and alert.

“Are those gunshots?” Donghyuck asks blaring wholes at Jeno.

Jeno points out and looks back into Donghyuck’s eyes. “M-Mark shot Ren-Renj-”

Donghyuck’s eyes widen even before Jeno can finish his words. Donghyuck bursts out the room anxiously running passed the red room and furiously down the stairs. Spotting his brother at the bottom of the staircase with blood- Donghyuck breaths out rigidly sprinting down until-

In an instant an explosion erupts from downstairs causing the bottom of the house to erupt in flames. Donghyuck’s eyes widen and he yells out. “RENJUN!” Getting up weakly on his feet and still sprinting down into the heavy smoke of fire that’s coming from the garage with all the cars- Donghyuck makes out Mark’s figure shooting out to the open garage door. Quickly pulling his brother’s arms and coughing out- Donghyuck’s eyes water with the stinging from the smoke. He moves his way towards an empty hallway that’s clear of flames. Looking down at Renjun’s bloodied form- Donghyuck’s eyes search all over until he finds the new source of bleeding from the side. He presses down with his hand earning an aching grunt from Renjun who flickers his eyes.

The tears pour out by themselves when Donghyuck tries to remove his hoody to try and wrap it around Renjun. “RENJUN! STOP PLAYING!" Donghyuck’s shaky fingers get in contact with Renjun’s skin slapping him lightly, trying to keep his eyes open. His cheeks bounce softly with every pat. "Please Renjun you twap, don’t die on me, don’t die on me,"

[flashback]

“How’s my mum?” Donghyuck rushes across the corridor upon seeing Renjun. Renjun is seated on the plastic chair his leg bouncing up and down in worry.

“She’s my mother as much as she’s yours-”

“You’re not her blood child, so don’t you dare try and pull that card orphan boy.”

Renjun glares upwards into Donghyuck’s eyes. “You really wanna do this here? Oh yeah? Okay you, her blood child who's full of worth, is that right? Oh god help me! How can you be so cruel, inconsiderate and so self involved? She’s in the hospital because of you. She got a phone call from the police department again- because she somehow had to look for money to bail you out of prison- do you even know how much she’s owing our neighbors? Do you know how much weight she’s lost just because of you, her blood son? Do you even know that her stress levels are above the maximum limit- only because she worries about you? The left side of her whole body isn’t working because of her blood pressure- she went into hyper shock this morning all because of you- her blood son! Every time she’s in pain- it’s always because of you. Every time she’s drowning deep in stress and debt is always because of you- for crying out loud- I gave all the money you gave me for school fees just so that she wouldn’t stress about money- do you even care about her? Why do you keep flaunting that blood son title if you don’t even act like a blood son? I may be an orphan but she’s given me a life more than my own mother could ever given me. I recognize all the struggles she’s undertaken just so that I could be a part of her and your life. She’s given me everything and for that I’m eternally grateful. She’s clothed me, fed me, given me the love and warmth I never thought I could receive- but yet here you are. You only show up when she’s in trouble- you only show up when she’s in pain- you only show up when we’re at the lowest and right now you’ve got the biggest nerve to bring out blood son? Are you serious right now Donghyuck? Her blood son hasn’t even seen her smile once but he’s got the nerve to own up and claim to that position. You haven’t even been living with us for the longest of time, but you’ve got the balls to barge in here and say you’re her blood son? Idiot. Please leave. Please leave before something bad happens to her because of your presence.”

Renjun glares at his older brother in pure anger and resentment. Every word he said came from the depth of his heart. Renjun, from the first day he stepped foot into his new 'home' was grateful for all that his new mum had done for him. Upon meeting her son, Donghyuck, Renjun assumed that he'd get along well with the older boy. But Donghyuck would always show his superiority over Renjun and the fact that he was the only son to his mother. No matter how hard Renjun tried to befriend the older one- Donghyuck wasn't kind enough to roll out the welcoming carpet. But after that day- after that day when his mother almost died, Donghyuck had a change of heart regarding both his mother and orphaned brother.

[End of flashback]

It happened 3 years ago, but till today- Donghyuck would never forget the urge he got to want to be like Renjun. Renjun was adopted yes, but the way Donghyuck’s mother would put Renjun on a high pedestal only made Donghyuck want to keep the state of happiness around his mother. He liked the peace and joy his mother was in when being with Renjun. Although it was a working progress, Donghyuck tried as hard as he could- to accept Renjun. After all, Renjun was remarkable. He'd bring back home marks that were astounding, he'd get scouted by top businesses wanting to work with him and he'd especially get praise for his artwork whenever he'd win competitions. With all those marvelous achievements, Donghyuck felt some sense of pride towards the boy considered his 'brother'. From that day on, he vowed to be Renjun’s brother.

The change happened bit by bit- he would suddenly pick Renjun up from school- try to initiate conversation with him- he would go supply shopping with him and even going as far as attending Renjun’s stupid award ceremonies. Donghyuck knew himself- he had a high temper and easily irked, but something about being with his mother who looked upon Renjun with angelic eyes made Donghyuck content.

Even though he was never his mother’s pride and joy, as she constantly was quick to pick Renjun over him any day- somehow made Donghyuck want to be close by to where Renjun- because wherever Renjun was, his mother was always there rooting on for him he was glad that she could be proud and joyous of his brother.

So seeing Renjun in pain and bloated with beatings- Donghyuck feels himself about to lose his mind. Did he really do this to his brother?

[Flashback]

"So, I want to run something by you," Renjun says sitting on the grass, next to Donghyuck who's smoking weed while taking in the warmth of the sun on his skin.

"What?" Donghyuck asks with no emotion, his eyes closed, his lungs breathing in and out the toxic fumes of air.

"On what conditions would you willingly beat me up?"

The question causes Donghyuck to hold the air in his mouth a little longer then usual. When puffing out the air, his eyes open squinting at the bright sun, before he turns his gaze to Renjun who's got his fingers scissoring the grass- trimming it with his fingers. "What?"

"I want you to beat me up."

Donghyuck blinks once. He sits up and sighs out. He offers Renjun a smoke to which Renjun refuses. Donghyuck puts it back in his mouth only staring at the boy. "You wanted to run this by me?"

Renjun nods his head. "So, in order for me to get a grant at the Social Security Agency as a foreigner, I'd either need to be disabled or married, however upon reading over the conditions there were sections that kind of resonated with our current living. Such as the foster child grant, whereby a foster child is placed in your custody by court and if ever the family needs aid- extra cash for the child then they can fill a form. However, right now my identification documents aren't in the right state and mum doesn't want to take any risks in changing them because of how they threatened to deport me. So it's out the way. There's also a section that states if you've been a victim to gang fights or fraud, or government fights or fraud file a complaint with the Federal Trade Commission online- and I'd be willing to do that, but going up against the government is not my cup of tea. Which then results in this non-profit organisation that I saw in our area. It helps abused children and their families with a free counselling service. It deals with issues such as physical and sexual abuse and so on. The 'requirements' are being abused or mistreated by either a family member or community," Renjun takes in a deep breath waiting upon Donghyuck's words.

"So you want me to beat you up to get money?" Donghyuck concludes watching Renjun nervously nodding his head. Puffing out some smoke Donghyuck runs his hands through his hair. "Where's mum?"

"She went to church."

Donghyuck nods his head. "What do you want the money for?"

"She told me not to tell you because you might do something crazy again..." Renjun anxiously let's out before taking in a deep breath. "She went to the hospital for her regular check up and the Doctors discovered something-"

"What?" Donghyuck stops smoking urging Renjun to speak on.

"She's got a brain tumor and since they found it early in it's developing stage they're willing to remove it. The surgery sums up to 7k maximum. They set a date for 2 weeks from now, but she said she'd get back to them in order to sort out her account funds and records. Donghyuck, I went with her to the bank and she doesn't have enough. So, she wanted to reject the surgery and go for treatments instead. But...brain tumors are deadly and she could die-"

"Don't even finish that sentence. She's not going to die." Donghyuck breathes out. He sinks back in the ground and smokes on the weed bunt again. "I'll get the money and I want you to give it to her. If she asks where you got it from just say you won a prize or something. There's no way I'm beating you up for a grant that may or may not be approved - or even helpful."

Renjun's eyes widen. Although he's grateful, he's also on edge of where Donghyuck will get the money. "What will you do?"

"I've got a friend-"

"Mark?" Renjun questions. "You do crazy things when you're with that guy."

"Listen here twat." Donghyuck sighs sitting up once again. "Mark isn't someone I want you to linger around. He's not your friend, neither is he mine. If you think I'm 'crazy' then it means you haven't crossed Mark yet. He's dangerous. Profoundly dangerous and smart and that's a deadly combo. We just get along because we find common interests in things- making money by the means of extracting from people who don't deserve it. Okay, I'm no hero or Robin hood or whatever, but that's just a logic to keep me sane. As long as mum's happy, as long as you're happy, automatically that makes me happy," Renjun smiles a little. Donghyuck never says sappy sappy things like that, so for him to be saying it now means that he's being vulnerable. "So I'm not gonna beat you up. I would be absolutely crushed if something had to happen to you especially on my account. You're my brother and you make mum happy and I don't want to take that away by hurting you,"

Being flustered by all the strange praises and acts of brotherhood Renjun's ears turn a shade red. "Hey," Renjun clears his throat. "Can I ask you something?"

"You've been talking, I don't know what's different if you ask a question. You'd still be talking," Donghyuck mummers.

"Would you go to rehab?"

"I don't need it," Donghyuck answers simply. Taking one last breath of the weed, Donghyuck throws it behind him to somehow prove a point. "I can control myself."

"I..." Renjun shuts himself up quickly before shaking his head.

"I'm in a good mood today. Say what you want to say or go away." Donghyuck closes his eyes now wanting to sleep under the sun.

"I've seen that you get pretty violent when you're on drugs." Renjun says. "And I'm just hoping that you can really control yourself, because if you get the money and mum gets the operation, we'll need to be on our best behavior to not cause her stress."

[End of flashback]

Mark full of anger dodges the blasts of flame as well as rapid fire that blazes all around the kitchen. He sprints away reloading his gun with his last round of bullets. As he's away from the flames and engulfed in smoke- by a specific hallway where he once saw Dae hiding in, he spots Donghyuck on the floor cradling Renjun. There's only one way this plan will work without them having to carry excess baggage or being tailed by the police- and that's to leave the excess baggage.

"Haechan we have to move right now." Mark announces. "Let's go, both of us."

Donghyuck hearing the low voice of Mark before feeling a hand grab on his shoulder instantly turns his head to Mark with bloodshot red eyes. "You shot Renjun?" Donghyuck's voice comes out low but the growl and grunt that follows afterwards makes Mark stunned. "Did you?! Huh!?"

"Fuck man chill! Now's not the time to-"

Before Mark can finish his sentence he's sprung backwards as Donghyuck furiously tackles him to the ground rapidly landing a good rock hard solid punch over Mark's cheek. Blood bursts out of his mouth as Donghyuck lands another aggressive punch on the other side of Mark's face. Being dizzy by the impact Mark lays motionless panting out while Donghyuck grabbed his collar. It's true they were both skilled in combat, however compared to themselves, Donghyuck was actually a much better fighter while Mark was a better gun man. So when Donghyuck hurls out his fist tightly to knock out Mark- Mark is quick to pull out his own gun and blow out straight on Donghyuck's abdomen.

"Fuck!" Donghyuck aches whilst Mark uses the opportunity to elbow him in the face. Getting up lazily on his feet, Mark pants up spitting out the blood before pointing the gun one more time towards Donghyuck's leg.

"See you in prison." Mark mummers quietly. "Or not."

BANG!

Jeno is mindful when carrying Yezi bridal style trying to maintain all his strength and composure on not dropping the girl. Upon bursting into her room and informing Donghyuck of Mark's madness- Jeno quickly went to Yezi's side. However the blood stain that was on the bed and seemed to be dried out on her leg only made Jeno more weary of what Donghyuck did to the poor girl. Renjun was right. He was right about the girls being defenseless against the hard cold boys in their homes. As soon as he lifted her up he could hear her crying lowly and calling her sisters name. But now upon going up the stairs of the third floor where their parents master bedroom is, he jogs to the open door going straight to the private bathroom where he left Dae.

Dae is still motionless hugging her knees staring at the shower. Hearing footsteps she snaps out of the nothingness and sees Jeno with- "Yezi! Yezi!" Dae crawls over to where Jeno lays down Yezi. Jeno gets up grabbing a shower head and flickering it on splashing his hand with some water to sprinkle some on her face. Yezi awakens from her trance of trauma and shoots up blurting out tears and sounds of pain. The sight of the two sisters grabbing onto each other hugging, comforting and embracing their sorrows almost makes Jeno feel so ashamed. He was late at doing what's right, stopping his brother, rescuing the girls and failing to keep his best friend alive. Sinking down against the polished wall far from the girls he lets himself finally breath out as he sniffs back a cry.

This is not how this night was supposed to go.

And as far as he's come, he still needed to save the girls. Sniffing back and getting up he walks out the bathroom moving around the enlarged brown themed room until he sees the curtains leading to the balcony. He opens it up, seeing their at the back of the house. Down below there's a swimming pool and... two officers. He quickly runs back to the bathroom looking down at the two girls. "Can you walk?"

Dae's legs were weak and she couldn't even make a run for it when Jeno was still occupied with Mark. After mindlessly giving Mark a fisted backhand, he managed to dodge his brothers grasp as he ran to Dae on the bed, throwing her over his shoulder and running to the door slamming it shut with the key before he ran and ran- and went up the stairs where he saw an open door. Getting inside, Dae instructed him where the bathroom was. Her legs were sore. As for Yezi, the blood stain alone made him feel uncomfortable. Yezi buries herself deeper into Dae while Dae looks up with dark eyes that are smeared with her messed up make up, she shakes her head.

Jeno gulps and runs his hands through his hair. "Alright, look." He blinks sharply trying to focus. "There's some cops outside near the swimming pool. I don't think you guys can get out through the front door, so this is the only way."

"Take Yezi, I'll try to walk," Dae attempts to get up balancing on the basin. Jeno picks up Yezi who is wildly trembling. He wants to apologize, but the words are stuck on his throat when thinking of the blood. For fucks' sake why Donghyuck and Mark have to go so far? Going over to the balcony door the lights are all turned off and the floor shakes after a loud explosion. Yezi squeaks covering her ears. Jeno hurriedly moves to the outside seeing the two officers running to the cause of impact getting out of view.

"Shit." He curses. He sets Yezi down avoiding her eyes that are worriedly moving around. He hurries back inside trying to make his way in the darkness using the moonlight. Dae is shaken up when Jeno puts his hands on her. "It's only me."

She breaths out and slowly her grip on her skirt stiffens and her eyes open wide. "What happened?" She whispers, the pitch black bathroom suddenly has a threatening view. Jeno's arm wraps around Dae carefully bringing her close to him. The distant sound of crinkling fires and the light wave of smoke passing in the air makes Dae more panicked.

Mark curses as the power erupts, only leaving the flames to bear out light through parts of the house. He secures the baggage of goods in the duffle bag over his shoulder as he quietly wakes out of Yezi's room. The air is hot. He covers his nose with his hand. Going upstairs will only corner him, so he seeks to go downstairs again. But at this point, downstairs is spreading with rapid hell flames and he can hear the police calling out.

Hearing the police march in union, he ducks and finds himself in the darkness of Dae's room- he feels on his temple when the heat wave brushes past the open wound given by Donghyuck. Thinking about Donghyuck, Mark hopes that Donghyuck isn't caught or trapped in the fire. The blood drips down his forehead and he groans, he grips the bag in his hand...

Looking at his hand, notices a little red light beam. He's quick in moving away grabbing the alcohol bottle and flicking it out the room. He grabs a few more bottles- mostly likely Jeno who drank and he charges out the room in speed towards the staircase where he thrusts his hand to throw the bottles watching it catch flames and shatter over the police who are covered in protective gears. Shit! He won't be able to escape. Running back to Dae's room he grabs the nearest piece of material and stuffs it in the bottle before taking his lighter and lighting up the material and letting his lighter touch the tip of the blanket with the fire- he watches the fire spread all over the blanket- leaving it inside and he runs out the room running into the hallway before jogging up the stairs. He turns back when hearing the loud explosion again burst and erupt from Dae's room. Now two floors are burning he stands up and throws the bottle near the police officer on the carpet. The fire from the bottle crushes to the floor creating an explosion.

Outside, Chenle cries on his knees on the ground as he watches his house burning up in flames. Officer Na and the rest of the police squads had gone inside after the sign was clear for them to go. It first started with the garage explosion that Chenle knew that the mission wouldn't be easy. He thought after waiting a couple more minutes that the police Officers would be out hand cuffing the boys- instead he watched as two officers with heavy bodies on their backs ran out placing the two bodies on the stretchers. Whether those were one of the boys or their officers- it was difficult to tell.

Chenle hauls himself up from the floor with tears running down his face to the snots mixing with the streams, he begins to run to the open gate where the rest of the squad disappeared to.

"You can't go in! You can't go in!" He's stopped by an alarmed and panicked Jisung. "Officer Na-"

"FUCK MY KIDS ARE GOING TO BURN! LET ME GO!"

In him yelling out loud at the top of his lungs, he hears a distant yell. "Daddy!" Both him and Jisung's head snaps to the opposite side of where the Officers left.

"I'll go and check it-"

"Fuck you!" Chenle fits off running in the direction of the open yard with Jisung hot on his heels.

S1:EP18-20

"I have to go," Jeno suddenly says. "Go to your sister."

"No, no, no, please don't leave us." Dae begs trying to see him in the dark while holding his top, fear crawling all over her.

Jeno is flushed by her grip and holds onto her hands. "Get yourself and your sister out of here. Yell or something." Jeno gets up and moves to the door. He carefully moves along the passage going down the stairs but is completely stunned when his eyes are engulfed by the flames. He turns his head back when hearing a voice yell out "Daddy!" in distress and he hopes the girls are getting out safely. He goes down the stairs avoiding the fire and heat it causes and without a plan he attempts to look for his brother yelling out, "Mark!"

Little does he know that as soon as he got out the masters bedroom, Mark instantly hid himself behind the corridor wall. Watching his brother leave, he hears the yell of one of the girls calling out to their father. It's too late to use the girls as sex slaves, but if he wanted to get out of here in one piece, it was worth a try. He gets inside the dark room instantly freezing when hearing low pants.

"Jeno?"

It's Dae. Mark matches her voice and hastily while being stealthy he covers her mouth backing her up against the wall while she tries to fight with her fists. Yezi is still outside screeching out her father's name being unaware of Dae who tries to fend for herself. The tears are brimming by her eyes as her fists really try to get rid of the man in front of her. In the dark, she makes out his eyes and she can't forget the wild look he generates.

"YEZI JUMP!" Dae yells out when Mark lets go of her mouth in order to pull her close to him. Just as fast as his hand is off her mouth it's back against her mouth but this time he drags Dae behind and out the room as he legs kick and struggle to follow on.

Yezi's head snaps back when hearing Dae yell out. Panic overcomes her again and she hesitates on whether to jump as told or go back. Her legs ache when she stands so she takes it upon herself to jump instead. Getting over the rail her legs throb and hurt in pain before the adrenaline pushes her off and she jumps. The bind of the pool net catches her gripping her with the tight rope and cold waters. All the new felt pain is gone when seeing her father running with speed towards her- while few other officers are behind him. He's quick in tripping his way on the net securely getting closer to his daughter, his last daughter who is bloated with tears upon seeing her father.

"Dad!"

Tears are overflowing when Chenle holds onto his daughter with all his might his hands moving all over her head and back- the pain his ears feel when hearing her weeping. "It's okay baby, it's okay baby, daddy's here, I'm here now okay. Nothing's going to happen to you, you're alright, you're alright, don't cry my child, don't cry. Oh god, my Yezi," Chenle digs his head into the side of her head. "My Yezi, my girl, my baby, don't cry,"

It's as if he already knew the traumatic experience she faced in the house, from the way she was crying and gripping onto him, to the way her tears were ever flowing and voice was hoarse. His poor daughter was so shaken up that she began hyperventilating and shaking badly.

"My baby," Chenle leans back removing her hair from her face trying to look into her red eyes that are filled with horror. "Come on," Too overwhelmed to ask for Dae he helps her off the pool net and follows the Officers as his heart pounds in his chest for his eldest daughter. "Come on Dae," his lips tremble.

The house is falling apart, some of the ceiling is on the floor with hoards of flames. Jeno only realizes now that he has no plan. As he thinks to himself he is down the last step his eyes enlarge when he's being grabbed and forced against the wall as soon as the flames that were in front of him gage furiously.

Officer Na grips Jeno by the collar while Jeno panics. "Please I'm innocent!" He screeches.

"Innocent?" Officer Na scoffs. "Where's your brother?"

"I- I don't know," Jeno's eyes enlarge when panicking that Mark still hasn't been found. "Shit! Shit! Shit! Dae! Dae! She's with her si-sister- the master bedroom- Mark, Mark could be th-"

"Come here," Officer Na roughly picks up Jeno by the collar, "You're gonna help me look for your brother," Jeno struggles to stay on his feet as Officer Na runs side ways avoiding the fire while strongly gripping to Jeno's jersey. "Good working men and a women died this evening because of the chaos you boys erupted," Officer Na grunts when heavy wood from the ceiling lands on his shoulder. "Damn," He grunts as he and Jeno try to climb the stairs only to fiercely stop when a fire bottle comes out of nowhere shattering against the wall. Jaemin and Jeno both shift forward by the blast of the bottle erupting in flames behind them.

Jaemin saw something similar to this, a bottle flying out from the darkness and hitting one of his Officers in the face- instantly burning him up. At first he thought it was mishap disaster but now seeing it again- he knows it might be Mark, after all, Donghyuck was rushed out of here in terrible condition.

"Is that your brother?" Officer Na looks up through the empty staircase spotting a shadow move away. Holding Jeno by his collar with his gun pointing Jeno in the back- he runs up the stairs as quick as possible pushing Jeno forward. Once away from the smoke lit second floor- he holds out his gun shooting once to alert Mark.

"EHY MARK YOU RASCAL!!" Officer Na yells. "COME AND GET YOUR BROTHER!"

A fire bottle comes out of nowhere at their direction yet again. Officer Na is quick to duck dragging Jeno along with him.

They run up the long criss crossed stairs, up to the top- getting on the third floor where the fire was still at bay simple steaming the smoke everywhere. A smoke screen of air. Shooting a couple of bullets in the direction where the bottle comes from, Officer Na ignores Jeno's plead of not killing his brother.

"Watch out!" Jeno eyes enlarge a second too late as the bottle thrushes against Jaemin's shoulder setting his leather coat jacket on fire. Catching fire and nearly plunging the Officer in smoke, he's quick in removing the leather piece stepping it quick to not let the fire spread on the carpeted ground.

A laugh is heard somewhere in the midst of the clouded air. Mark. "Be careful Officer Na, you might hurt her."

Her?

"You rascal!" Officer Na yells holding Jeno close. "I'll kill your brother this second. Where are you? There's no where to go."

"Maybe you're right, but I know you're bluffing. You won't kill him." Mark says, sounding close. Mark peeks his eyes around the corridor revealing himself. Across from him with a large gap separating him from the Officer, he walks carefully. Right through the smoke, Dae's pleading body comes into view. She's cuffed in his shirt and her mouth is stuffed with something not clear. Mark picks her up tightly holding her neck. "You won't do it, because if you do, I kill her. And you know I'm not bluffing."

Officer Na clinches his teeth together looking at Dae. Her eyes are puffed and she's bloody resembling Mark's state. The burn mark over her arm is evident to Jeno and he cusses inside when her eyes swell up in tears staring at him.

"Hand her over now!" Jeno snaps his eyes to Mark by the words of the Officer.

"Fuck Mark! Let her go!" Jeno yells out. As much as he tries to understand Mark, he can't seem to wrap his head around why Mark is going over board and literally fighting till the death. "Come man, just give it up already. You're surrounded man."

Mark chuckles. "By who?" He looks around. "Everyone's already dead, except him." He points to Officer Na.

Officer Na walks slowly closer to Mark holding the gun sharply to Jeno. "Do you wish for your brother to die?" Jeno holds his jersey at the back struggle to keep up with the police harsh grip almost tightening around his neck.

Mark doesn't budge but holds Dae tightly on the back of her neck now forcing her on her knees with the gun at the back of her head- causing Officer Na to freeze. "I killed one of your Officer's like this." Mark presses the trigger and Dae's eyes pop out in patronizing fear when nothing happens. The sound is voided by the sock stuffed in her mouth- but she lets it out. Officer Na and Jeno both have widened eyes hearing the gun go off and watching Dae quivering so hard that she's practically levitating from the ground. Mark's raspy laugh gets their gripped horrored eyes on him. "Safety's on."

Pressing on the trigger again- Dae feels her skull heavy and sore. But nothing happens again. She can't see anymore. The tears drowning out all her senses.

"Fuck it! Stop!" Officer Na feels useless watching a psychotic Mark toy around with their emotions.

"The guns empty." Mark mumbles tossing the gun down- yet in a sharp move he spins Dae around strangling her neck while picking her up. "You're such a fun sized human being," Mark laughs looking into her blotched eyes before turning to Jaemin. "You want her? Too bad, because I want to get out of here."

"Are you willing to negotiate?" Officer Na questions trying to maintain composure.

"I've watched my prey choke before, but they were all men," a raspy laugh leaves Mark's throat. "I've never seen a girl choke before."

Weapon less? Officer Na acknowledges. He nudges Jeno to stand and tosses his gun aside. "Mark." With his arms out but Mark quickly gets her underneath his embrace.

"One more step and I'm cracking her neck." Mark warns with red eyes. "I'll twist it so hard she'll die in an instant. Do you want that?"

"What do you want?" Officer Na grumbles.

"Get out the way. And don't follow me." Mark shifts his eyes between both the men. The fact that they were both standing only made him on edge. It's a 50-50 percent chance. Anything can happen. Literally anything. Because when Dae hastily beats her head backwards colliding into Mark's face- both Jeno and Jaemin gallop to the delinquent. Jeno with a bold diving punch and Officer Na with his taser- they both get Mark in a haste that when Dae can even open her eyes- she's in Jeno's arms just in time for the floors to creak and fragments of the cement below compresses and tramples-

"Run!"

Jeno takes the lead caring Dae and with her passed out weight he dashes towards the masters room with Officer Na bearing a knocked out Mark picking him up by his torso over his shoulder. The floor collapses from within however Jeno hurls himself over the balcony fence jumping straight into the net with Jaemin doing the same as well- just as the house tramples and bursts up into flames from the inside out- not to be caught up in the distortion of the building Officer Na gets out his knife and rips the net allowing them to sink into the water. Jeno thrushes straight into the water holding onto Dae shaking her body to wake her up quick in enough- but she's completely passed out from fear.

From the outside, where the other Officers and news crew watch the house detonate and bursting in flames- the firemen make their move as the other Officers move in hopes of finding Officer Na. Chenle shelters Yezi from the view- but still Yezi bursts out screaming when seeing their house compress and explode in flames. Chenle tries to be strong but the words exit his mouth and all his emotions are set wildly. "DAE!" He let's go of Yezi moving out of the ambulance truck and runs to the scene being stopped by a set of Officers.

"She's alive, but unconscious. The impact from the burns, the frantic emotion imbalance, the aggressive intake of smoke as well as water and distorted state set her to a mild panic which gave her a heart attack. In covering, she'll survive, all she needs now is rest." Officer Jisung explains to Jaemin, Dae's state of condition. Jaemin breathes out nodding his head.

"Thank goodness. Thought we really lost her back there," He recalls how fast Jeno kept trying to breath air back into her before the other Officers stepped in. At this moment, standing with Jisung in the hospital foyer, Jaemin sips on the plastic cup filled with dark coffee. After this hectic night, he needed 8 more shots of coffee if he was going to survive the war and rage that the millionaire Zhong Chenle was charging into for the full physical actions and trauma set and cost of both his daughters and of the damages to his home. "What about the boys? I would not want to be them right now."

Jisung lets out a breathless chuckle. "Likewise. Renjun and Donghyuck are actually in severe surgeries right now. Renjun might not make it. Several broken ribs, his face is erratically beaten up, dislocated joints, critical fire burns, apparently was also shot on his hip, severe intake of smoke and fractured hips and spin. Donghyuck was shot twice, once in the abdomen and the other by his leg, critical burns, heavy intake of smoke and raptured kidney, but he'll live. However on the other spectrum, Mark and Jeno are both in scathing health. Jeno had drunk one too many bottles and was running on adrenaline out through the night. His intake has now kicked in and he's in a deep sleep like coma. So deep that the doctors patched up the burns without a dosage of anesthesia. Mark very strangely is fine. The doctors haven't yet discovered why he hasn't woken up yet, although they assume it could be because his system is filled with cocaine."

Jaemin nods his head after hearing all their conditions. He turns to Jisung. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"Oh," Jisung looks flattered and blinks twice shaking his head. "It's no problem-"

"No seriously," Jaemin insists. "I prefer fire over water any day. So diving into the pool was my worst nightmare. I can't swim for shit. After I cut the safety net and fell inside that pool to stay alive, I drowned just trying to stay alive. Mark shot up like an eel and began choking me. Hell in water. So when I say thank you, I say it with every breath I have. If it weren't for you, I would've been in there with them, or worse, dead. And now that I think of it, you're actually pretty good and handy on the field. You really jumped in and fought underwater, carrying both Mark and Jeno, going back Dae and swimming down in the deep to get me. Despite the house burning up and shooting fragments of scorching cements and walls, you got us all out. By yourself. That bravery deserves a medal."

Jisung humbly places his hands to his side smiling down. He recently entered the police force as an intern and was partnered up with Jaemin. Jaemin being an idol in the police force that he's always admired and wanted to be like. But it wasn't easy even talking to him. For 3 months now Jaemin never acknowledged his existence- except for when he needed paperwork to be done. They never went on field missions together, Jaemin did his things privately and never asked for help, Jaemin moved through his work as if Jisung wasn't even his partner. In fact Jisung wasn't even supposed to be at the Zhong resident mission, he just happened to overhear and ended up going- only to be reprimanded by Jaemin. That's why it feels like such a huge honor to be praised for doing his job, his skills that he acquired over the years in military bootcamp, he feels honored to be acknowledged for something that landed him the position as an intern in Korea's most respected police institution- next to Officer Na Jaemin.

"Thank you sir,"

"I'm the one thanking you, don't steal my spotlight." Jaemin jokes before turning serious again when seeing Mr Zhong Chenle. "Has your daughter Dae woken up?"

Chenle shakes his head his jaws clinching with anger. "I'm from speaking with Yezi." He breaths out angrily. Having Yezi, his loudest daughter, talk in a muted way because of what one of those guys did to her breaks his heart. They raped his daughter. They deserved to die. "I want them, all of them, to suffer the highest punishments'."

"Mr Zhong Chenle, from the highest billionaire family of the Zhong's, is a self-made millionaire, a CEO at the world's top 10 best architectural planning's, G.H Constructions, with favorable clients, world wide recognition and enlightened public views, has finally taken to court a case that's been on lively and well-known by the democratic public, after 3 full weeks of silence. The attackers have awakened from their coma and are expected in court today. We hope that justice will be served. This has been Build Architect Talk on 94.7 highveld stereo, be sure to send your comments through our twitter page on what you think will be the outcome of the case."

The court building at the central House of Law, is ruled off by police officers who barricade the parameter from journalists, news crews and the general public. Zhong Chenle is seated inside one of the prestigious high court rooms looking at the peace symbol of justice hoping for the highest punishments to be served. Seated on the front row is the family of Chenle; their step mother Chungdae, Dae, Yezi and Chenle. Beside them is their lawyer, Lee Taeyong. Behind them, or scattered around the spacious court room are 4 Officers who were at the scene that will testify as witnesses, Dae's friends; Xiaojun, Yang Yang and Hendery are seated on one row a couple of seats behind. Officer Na Jaemin and Jisung sit some rows behind keeping mind of the door and whoever enters. Chenle strictly ordered that no press should enter. On the other side of the court, there's a lady in a heavy black padded jacket, she has strands of grey hair and looks agitatedly worried and sick. Yezi doesn't know the lady, but from a flashback that reaches her mind she wonders if that's Donghyuck's mother. If anything she didn't look like a wicked monster, she looked like a shriveled stressed out mother. Yezi almost forgets that Donghyuck isn't the only son being charged, Renjun was well. She turns to Dae by her side and holds onto her hand tighter.

"I'm scared," She whispers.

Dae, someone who's always realistically aware of her own capabilities, but also aware of her own limitations, not tempted by vanity or self-importance, is seated with her legs together in worry. For the first time in her life she looks precarious and anxious. She gulps holding onto Yezi's hand tighter. "Me too." They look into each other's eyes coated with fear before leaning onto each other embracing and comforting the other. Chungdae who's on Dae's side rubs onto her back while Chenle rubs onto Yezi's back, he and his wife make brief eye contact before the front door opens and all eyes move forward.

The public defender walks in, making brief eye contact with Taeyong in front. One thing that always made court cases troubled were public defenders- especially if they were defending guilty attackers. Why were they defending the attackers? The court appointed lawyer, or rather the public defender, Nakamota Yuta takes a seat on the opposite side of the court placing all his materials down. Despite being on the enemy side, he had reason to believe that if the boys where to be charged, then they would be charged correctly and not through bribery of the wealthy. Justice had to be served through the proper means of the penalty not because a rich father wants what he wants. No sooner then later the door opens and instantly Dae and Yezi tense up.

Donghyuck is the first to walk out in a white shirt and white pants, in handcuffs, he looks cold and angry. The next to walk out in handcuffs is Renjun, he's got a thick plaster over his arm with a sling attached and his neck is wrapped in thick bandages, while also his face is red and only his cheek is merely a yellow purplish blue with a plaster on over his jaw, he looks abashed and remorseful as he follows behind Donghyuck. The police guard in charge helps them enter the attackers zone and makes them sit removing their handcuffs.

The lady in the heavy padded jacket hesitantly stands up getting the attention of both Renjun and Donghyuck, it’s their mother. She walks up cautiously being cautious of the strict eyes of the police guard. She holds out a yellow file that Yuta gently takes knowing it's contents. Instead of taking a seat at the back where she was before, she sits on the row right behind them timidly. Renjun feels the tears prinkle from his good eye, but he refrains from crying, especially with straps of bandages being laced over and under his eye. Even though he was grateful to being alive, there's nothing in this moment that makes him grateful. He wished he were dead. While the public defender Yuta opens up the file and explains to Renjun what's going to happen to him, Dae's breath is uneven while facing the door at Mark who enters in the white uniform as well looking emotionless. He turns his head towards the girls and upon making eye contact with Dae, he smirks.

Nothing but fear runs down her spine and her grip gets tighter to which Yezi also returns when seeing the sinister smirk. Jeno, too in handcuffs follows behind Mark with his head down. He had a headache, from staying up all night to stressing about today, he hated the lights in the room and the fact that he would be facing the girls again. If anything the headache probably came from thinking too much about the girls- it only made him stressful. He and Mark woke up from their coma sleep earlier then Renjun and Donghyuck. So the two brothers had faced a lot of time together, which ended up being pretty ugly and made the boys bitter towards each other and towards the girls. Jeno couldn't even remember the full night. He remember drinking in the car and breaking in but from their his memories fogged up, but one thing he remembers is Dae and her biased rich mentality. However when Dae spots Jeno, her heart simmers down... he was alive. For some reason, a reason yet to be discovered, she felt fond of him. Perhaps she wanted to thank him. After him reading her diary, him saving her from his brother and helping her escape has her heart in esteem.

Hatred boils in Donghyuck upon seeing Mark, who betrayed him at the last minute and shot on him and his brother. Mark takes a seat next to him. It takes everything in Donghyuck not to lose it and hit Mark- but by his own will power he can't, instead it's the hand that lands over his clutched fist that he stops and takes a breath. Renjun holds firmly over Donghyuck's fist the moment he sees it forming. The last thing he wanted in the court room was another hectic scene- especially in front of their mother.

The judge in his black robe with maroon straps enters the room with everyone standing up as instructed by the officer. The judge takes a seat fixing the glasses on his face. "Trail case of Zhong Chenle against juvenile boys. I am Kim Jungmyeon Suho, present for the position of primary judge. The court is now in session." After the Judge Suho introduces himself he beats his gavel on the desk and an Officer closer to the stage stands up presenting the case to the jury of people who sit on the opposite side of the stage. He goes over each of every time slot and the given description of what happened on the day within the hours that the boys attacked.

Lawyer Taeyong stands up introducing himself to the judge and jury before mentioning the girls, the victims, and briefly tells the story of what happened using quotes and phrases the girls had said. He explains his theory of the case, the key elements to be proved, photos and evidence of the scenes, he touch basis on the side witnesses and what they'll testify, as well as emphasizes with conveying emotions of the themes expressed in the house. He looks to the jury stating what he wants from them, to punish and convict the boys of their crimes if possible at the same level and degree punishment. He takes up to 5 minutes but for Dae and Yezi, it feels like they were reliving the traumatic moments in the house being trapped with the boys.

The public defendant Yuta stands up introducing himself, and already the way he speaks brings Taeyong to the trials he recalls fighting against Yuta. Yuta is no ordinary public defendant, if not, he's the best lawyer, but for some reason he was always on the contradicting side and took favors of the attackers. Any case he fought against, he'd usually win, but the same goes for Taeyong, any case he'd pursue, he'd also win in it. So hearing Yuta speaking on the point of view of the boys, he wonders what's up the man's selves.

"The facts of this case are straightforward, nothing to defend there. My clients are charged with penalties and the evidence will show their participation in breaking and entering, offence related to fraud and theft, dealing in drugs, smuggling of ammunition and attempt at human trafficking-

"You're forgetting rape and murder." Taeyong raises his hand stating boldly.

Yuta looks to his side nodding his head firmly. "Of course. Rape and murder. In this case you will see the evidence leading to their crimes. However this I'll be countering with acts from the article laws. This is a civil case and the boys must prove their case by a preponderance of the evidence." As Yuta speaks, Donghyuck is puzzled as much as pissed off by their defendant who seemed to be digging their early grave. For sure by this rate they would get the full penalty and more. "Articles such as Article 14, 15, 17 and more stating negligence, justifiable acts, crimes committed through commission and omission and more. Seoul's Neo Cultured Law exists to protect, as well as encourage individuals to report illegal activity in their communities. My clients here aren't responsible for the full claims given, for these reasons after you've heard all the evidence, at the end of this trail I ask that you return a verdict in favor of each of my clients. Or rather at the end of the trial, I ask you find the defendants guilty of the severity of what each one did."

"So he wants the punishments to be fair?" Jisung whispers to Jaemin, who nods his head. Thinking back to what the father wanted; whereby all the boys be punished with the same crimes.

"That would mean each of them will have a punishment given according to how severe they acted." Jaemin briefs before Taeyong calls out to him as the first witness. As soon as he's finished, Jisung goes up next answering the questions from the lawyer and so do all the other witness officers. Yuta is up next bringing to the witness stand the mother of both Donghyuck and Renjun. As respectful as he can be, Yuta creates a story based on values and needs, making sure that the elder woman is not ridiculed by any of the people in the room- he knows how biased the rich and wealthy could be. His one witness.

Everything seems to be going well, the whole ordeal and flowing of movements is going in favor of Taeyong- as the boys crimes are evident and in need of punishment. Yuta is well aware of the bricks he has to place in order to get a fair sentence and knows that his chance of favor will begin when the judge speaks. Although it might be harsh, he knows his way to get the right sentences out of the jury and judge. The attackers are told to stand in front of the judge as their pre verdict would be given. Facing the judge, Renjun, Donghyuck, Mark and Jeno all anticipate their sentence. Mark and Donghyuck knowing the judge Suho, knows that if he gives his verdict, they might spend a long time in prison, meanwhile Renjun and Jeno are petrified of the daunting eyes of Suho. Being placed with chairs behind them, they sit and wait on the judge.

"Lee Jeno rise." Judge Suho calls out. Jeno stands up and moves over to the seat in front that's close to the podium of the judge. Sitting down he keeps his head down and his hands on his lap. "The crimes to be charged given by your public defendant are detention, fine and house arrest. Lee Taeyong, do you agree?"

"Negative." Taeyong stands up peering at Jeno, who still has his head down. "On the offender Lee Jeno, we'd like a full maximum sentence of imprisonment for breaking and entering, dealing in drugs and offence related to theft."

"Nakamota Yuta, is there an agreement?" The judge asks.

"Negative." Yuta stands facing Taeyong who still stands. "As I stated in the beginning I'll be referring to Article 15 for Lee Jeno's case. Article 15 states, Misunderstanding of Fact. Jeno's act was performed through ignorance of the facts which constituted especially more to severe crimes performed by the other members. The act states that he shall not be punishable for such severe crimes not committed by him-"

"Your honor-"

Yuta quickly dejects Taeyong's protest. "If anything, the witnesses and even victims can testify to his innocence."

Taeyong snaps his head to Yuta's direction. "Which victims?"

"Miss Dae." Yuta calls while picking up a sheet of paper. "In your questioning with the police you stated and I quote, 'He only tied up our hands because he was told to do so, but throughout the night he did nothing more but drink and eventually helped my sister and I escape. He also helped out Renjun.' Are those your words Miss Dae?" Dae's eyes are wide when looking at her dad and lawyer, the words were true.

"Y-yes," She meekly answers causing Jeno to look up. According to what Mark said, Dae turned her back against him. So to hear that he helped out and get a blurry image of bursting in her room with Mark being on top of her gets him to snap his eyes in Mark's direction. Did Mark lie to him?

"Not only Dae your honor, but the Police Officer Na Jaemin, witness, can testify in the last minute assistance of Jeno in capturing the real offender. There is a recording of him saying that and a questioning of him thanking Jeno. Officer Na, am I lying?"

Jaemin composes his reaction, avoiding the intense eyes of Zhong Chenle from the front. He simply blinks. "No."

"Another testimonial is Officer Park Jisung, who stated as that Jeno performed CPR, well mannered and well trained if I can add, on Dae who had drowned. So you see your honor, Lee Jeno is only guilty of breaking and entering. Because the dealing of drugs was not performed by him-"

"Your honor-"

"According to the doctors report and Dae's statement, his system was only filled with alcohol, no drugs as being claimed." Yuta pauses briefly peeking at Taeyong who clinches his jaw. "As for offence related to theft, Jeno clearly left the house with nothing in his hands but a dying Miss Dae as everything was burned down, so no charge there. And for that, we ask for the minimum sentence of detention for his participation in breaking and entering, a fine for his drinking actions and house arrest to keep him in one place."

"You're honor that's preposterous-"

"Is it?" Yuta questions. "What's actually preposterous is you throwing in drugs- which is something he didn't even do, all that to get him a sentence? If the police officers and victim herself can testify in his non involvement in the severe matter what makes you butt in? In fact, before the fire erupted, a police recording by Renjun stated that Jeno was the one who patched his injuries, injuries given by Lee Donghyuck. Your honor, my client is only guilty of breaking and entering."

Taeyong clinches his jaw staring wide eyed at Yuta. So he was going with that approach huh? Not only Taeyong but Chenle has fierce eyes. If Jeno was off the leash so easily- what would that mean for the others? "Taeyong?"

The judge beats the gavel dismissing Jeno and calling up Renjun. Taeyong gathers his papers on Renjun making sure that he would at least pin him down as he's an immigrant who performed illegal activities in Korea.

"The crimes to be charged given by your public defendant are suspension of qualification, minor fine and house arrest." Renjun's eyes are widen when hearing suspension of qualification. This would mean they'd kick him out of school...or worse. "Lee Taeyong, do you agree?"

"Negative." Taeyong firmly responds reading from his deck of papers. "On the offender Huang Renjun, a Chinese citizen, we'd like a full maximum sentence of imprisonment for breaking and entering, Offense related to exchange control, extortion, fraud, document forger and compelled rape."

"Nakamota Yuta, is there an agreement?" The judge asks unaware of the eyes that widen up by the surprise word.

"What do you mean compelled rape?" Yuta questions strictly looking to Taeyong, before looking to the judge. "No your honor, I do not agree."

"I didn't r-r-rape anybody-" Renjun's bottom lip trembles and his eyes water switching his eyes from the judge, to Yuta, to the girls briefly before looking at his shocked mother and brother. Donghyuck shakes his head knowing very well that Renjun didn't rape anybody- because the coward is still a virgin. He knows that he raped the girl Yezi and Mark had his way with the other girl Dae. So what where was this coming from?

"Your honor. My client did not... should not be charged for rape as he-"

"Your honor, my client Yezi, is the victim of rape, underage rape, that was forced on her-"

While Taeyong gives a brief description of what he's client Yezi testified, Yuta scampers though his papers to Yezi's statement remembering that he read she had no memory of who raped her. His eyes widen when realizing that the closest description of her rape was detailed as Renjun was in the room with her. What's strange is that Donghyuck who stated to raping her is not even mentioned by the lawyer Taeyong - who pines that Renjun is the rapist. Renjun is a stuttering mess and is crying while trying to defend himself.

"How can you be certain that from the description given it was Renjun? From her statement-" Yuta tries to speak above a wailing Renjun still trying to be respectful to the present girl, Yezi in the room. If it's something she truly can't remember then Renjun is in trouble. "My client did not-"

"My client was traumatized by the force of the grown man that she blacked out-" Taeyong continues looking firmly at the judge but when Donghyuck bangs his fist on the table standing up- everyone is in shock.

"Judge Suho I don't know what bullcrap their talking but I'm the one who raped that underage girl-"

"Donghyuck-"

Yuta's warning call is in vain as Donghyuck continues his speech directed to the judge who beats his gavel. "Order-"

"Fuck this order! Renjun did not touch that girl-"

"Control your individual Yuta." Taeyong warns. "We can charge him for being indifferent to sensitivity and being-"

"And what the fuck do you mean she doesn't remember?" Donghyuck continuously raises his voice, his anger shooting up the roof when he glares back with hell flames in his eyes as he peers at Taeyong before looking down at Yezi. "You fucking bitch- You don't remember who touched you? Do you need me to remind you who? Huh?! Who ripped off your clothes-"

"Donghyuck control yourself!"

"Who cut your shorts with a knife?! Who fucking ripped off your white panty?! Who kissed you?!-" In a quick movement he gets off the front row of chairs charging towards Yezi who panics- her father, Dae, Chungdae and Taeyong all have wide eyes ready to throw the guy off.

"Donghyuck!" Even as his mother and Yuta, yell for him to stop it- Donghyuck still speaks up above all the noise even though he's instantly strained by the guards.

"Order!"

"You still don't remember? Did that jog up your memory?!" Donghyuck is forced against Lee Taeyong's table as they try to restrain him but his eyes are firmly on Yezi who pants out unable to look away from the rageful eyes of the man. "Bitch who touched you?! Broke your fucking virginity?!" Staring at Yezi with blazing eyes, Donghyuck doesn't hold back even as the tears pour out her eyes vigorously. Looking into her eyes, he knows that's she knows that he did it. He knows she's lying and pretending- and that only enrages him since she's the one who caused him to take drastic measures to shutting her up from talking about his mother. "Do you not remember my tongue on your nipple?! Your pink nipples! Do you not remember me slapping you?! Do you fucking remember saying my mother should die!? Do you?! So who!? Who?! Who touched you?! Who fucked you black and blue? Who fucked you?! Who?! Who?!"

"You!" Yezi cries out as Dae and Chenle cling to her side while the Officers take him away as he grunts out. "You- it was you!" Yezi yells out all the rage coming back to her of that night. Her fingers pointing on Donghyuck. "You fucking monster!"

"Order!"

"Yezi calm down-" Chenle shields his daughter tightly holding onto her feeling his heart break when her cries get louder. "Baby it's alright, okay? Please just-"

"No." Yezi cries softly her words being a mumbling mess. "It was him, only him. He raped me. Daddy it was him. He raped me." Yezi breaks down into her fathers arm as her cries are pained by the memory. "It was him."

"Fucking bitch." Donghyuck grunts out when they restrain him against his own table cuffing up his hands again. "I fucking told you didn't I?!" Donghyuck still yells at Yezi. "You fucked up rich people always feeling entitled and wanting the law to be taken seriously on those who aren't at your level. What did my fucking brother do to you huh? I told you we aren't any different! The second your weak ass pathetic self is in trouble someone else takes the blame for your mess. You fucking mess with my brothers future again and I'm gunning for you! How dare you!? How dare you! You fucked up bitch! Fucked up system! Fucked up court! Fuck!"

Just as Donghyuck is dragged out the court room by the officers including Park Jisung, Mark pays attention to the continuous gavel that's been beating on the podium as the judge tried to maintain order. Even for Mark, that felt personal. Blaming the border jumper for a crime he didn't commit- he'd also get upset. Renjun has his head face down on the table as he silently cries- for the crime that he was about to be charged with. He didn't even remember her name, but he knew that he helped her the most between the girls- he even took a beating for her from the person who actually raped her. But she was about to blame him.

A 10 minute break is given by the judge who's astounded by the down turn.

The girls and their father are in the separate room with their lawyer. "At this rate I don't think it's possible for the boys to get the same punishment. At the rate Yuta's going, it's best we stick with the crimes' they committed rightfully. Are you okay dear?" Taeyong asks when Yezi is done drinking her beverage of coffee. She nods her head.

When Taeyong told her not to say anything without a lawyer, she stuck to silence. And when the father suggested that all the boys serve the same sentence, Taeyong said it would be possible to do so if they committed a sexual offense or if they committed murder. Only Mark and Donghyuck would be charged higher, but it was his suggestion to use the 'amnesia' technique to pin point Renjun- if her word would be stronger then anything Yuta would say- but then Donghyuck just had to stand up and confess- dramatically.

"What about you sir?" Taeyong asks. "We can take drastic measures to get them all in the same sentence but we'd be playing dirty and Yuta likes the dirt. Plus, it wouldn't be worth it if the girls aren't mentally strong for this."

"No forget it. As long as they all go to prison, then fuck it." Chenle immediately answers still rubbing Yezi's back. "Let this be over with. Opt for a restraining order as well, if they do get out of prison soon then I don't want them anywhere near my family."

Getting back inside the court after 10 minutes, Yezi and her mother Chungdae are watching from the empty room through the camera feed as Yezi feels too nervous to return. Dae sits next to her dad as they bring Renjun back on stage.

"Have your charges changed, Lee?" The judge asks.

Taeyong nods his head. "Yes your honor, we want to charge him with breaking and entering and offense related to exchange control, extortion, fraud and document forging."

"Yuta-"

"Negative. I don't agree with the charge. My client has renewed papers-" Yuta lifts up the yellow file with the renewed documents of his passport.

"But when committing the crime, his papers where out of date and expired. Meaning we had an illegal citizen breaking and entering into a Korean household-"

"Your honor-"

"If we take it a step forward, he forged his papers and identity while getting into Korea's high institute-"

"That has nothing to do with this case-"

"Yes it does." Taeyong firmly speaks picking up a paper. "Huang Renjun entered the same institute as Dae. He tried to get closer to her and even at some point took pictures of her. Who knows, maybe he's the real mastermind behind this whole plan-"

"What the hell are you people even talking about?" Donghyuck questions out furiously whilst his leg bounces in anger. "I was the one-"

"Okay fine. Mr Lee Donghyuck wants to take the blame for that too? Fine. Can Renjun at least admit to the crimes of forging his documents?"

"I-I-"

"My client-"

"You illegal foreigner, entering into our country with wrong papers, you have the nerve to go to school with forged documents, you break into a home and did who knows what to those girls- and sit here with a busted up face, broken bones claiming you did nothing?" Taeyong fires out glaring wholes into Renjun's eyes. Renjun's lip trembles and he cowers looking away from the lawyer. His mother sinks in her seat shedding light tears. Donghyuck breaths out heavily- restraining himself remembering the warning he got. "Your honor those are our charges. If the public defendant can't agree to it, we leave it in your hands." Taeyong ends his charges firmly, being fueled by anger.

The boys were the bad guys in the situation, why is that even a question?

The judge beats the gavel when Yuta says nothing else looking at Renjun with remorseful eyes. If anything, Renjun didn't deserve to be punished, after everything he said, he and Jeno were the ones who helped the girls. Up next to Donghyuck and he sits down.

"Permission to speak." Donghyuck firmly starts even before the judge can speak.

"Granted."

"I know what I did, I wasn't drunk or high, so I can remember every single word that left my mouth, all the actions I did and most certainly knows who snitched on me." Donghyuck starts. "I plead guilty to all my crimes, only the crimes I committed. I stand by the book of law, every word that comes out of my mouth is the truth. I'm the one who forged my brothers papers-" It's a lie. Donghyuck knows it, Renjun knows it, his mother knows it and Taeyong and Yuta are both puzzled knowing very well that he's lying. "I forged his papers for him to go to school and try to at least have a good life because the fucking goverment didn’t want to do shit for him. I planned out the entire scene of breaking into that rich man's house. Renjun didn't break into the house- I forced him in the house and threatened to kill him. I had weapons with me, a gun and corkscrew knife. I tied up the girls and sent them off to their rooms with my brother Renjun to watch the underage girl and Jeno to watch her." He points at Dae before firmly looking to the lawyers again. "I stole from all the rooms. I barged into my brother when he was on the call with the cops using the underaged girl's phone. I beat up my brother with my fists. I raped that underaged girl and I beat up Mark who shot my brother." Donghyuck leans back in his seat with burning eyes. “I smoked weed too, but that’s not illegal.”

Yuta said it was best for them to admit to their crimes in hopes of perhaps getting the judge and acclaimed sit in jury to see how sincere he was.

"Your honor. For Lee Donghyuck we want the charges of breaking and entering, forging of documents, offense related to theft, smuggling of ammunition and firearm and rape." Yuta states.

"Mr Lee do you agree?" The judge asks.

Taeyong turns his head to Chenle as confirmation. Chenle nods his head with his arms around Dae. "Positive."

"Good." The gavel is beaten down. Donghyuck gets off his seat going down the stairs before passing Mark.

"Why didn't you take responsibility for my crimes too?"

"Fuck off-" Donghyuck attempts to hit Mark but the guards following behind him quickly hold onto him.

"Order!" The judge immediately says hearing Mark chortle lowly.

Yezi watching from the room, recalls his words and the argument that led up to her being raped. From the way he confidently said his crimes- including his brothers crimes as well, Yezi feels how much his family means to him. The fact that he's willing to take the whole bullet and weight and punishment over his brothers crimes- shows how Yezi that the words he spoke to her that night were true. He may be a low life, but just like her, he was raised more dignified with honest values. And since he's a low life, he knows the spectrum of how the world works against him. Maybe his parents didn't love him, but he loved them. In him defending Renjun the way he did, just shows Yezi that he would willingly die for his brother- even though things in the house looked fragmented, Donghyuck's security and protection over his brother showed mightily. Even though he raped her selfishly, Yezi knows through her own words, it's what provoked him to inflict on her, the pain.

As Mark sits down, he doesn't say anything and waits on the judge. Being caught wasn't in his plan at all, he tried to avoid prison. But now that he's caught, he doesn't mind serving the sentence assigned to him as long as he's with Donghyuck. They really needed to speak.

"Mark you're charged with, murder, attempted human trafficking, smuggling of firearms, dealing of drugs and breaking and entering with intent to commit crime." The judge reads and turns to Taeyong. "Do you agree?"

Taeyong nods his head and while the judge asks Yuta, Mark's eyes pane over to Dae. She holds in her breath not being able to look away from his eyes. He forced her into sexual activity that she didn't want...rape. But for some reason, it's not listed as a charge.

"You having pity on me babygirl?" Mark asks, not aware that he interrupted Yuta's speech, who tried to debunk the other claims- even though they were all true.

The sight of Mark on top of Dae with his cock inside of her mouth burns in Jeno's head as he pants out. Especially when he thinks of how he held her and she cried in his arms. Why wasn't she telling that he used her?

"Order!" The judge beats the gavel. "Mark you may sit. We'll have a 5 minute break and we'll call you back in for the final sentence."

Mark doesn't say anything not even hearing what the judge or lawyers say as his eyes are still on Dae. It's either she didn't confess it because she didn't want him to suffer more punishments, or could it be that... she liked it. The thought of Dae being aroused makes him chuckle with excitement. "That was fun," He mutters out.

Meanwhile Jeno turns his head to the back where her father is now hugging her. With her head over her fathers shoulder, she accidently meets his eyes and he begins to wonder why she didn't confess it. He was lucky to leave with a light charge, but barging out like Donghyuck did for Renjun could only affect his charge more. So silence it was. But the burning image in his head doesn't sit right with him, especially since Dae's eyes seem to understand his conflict. Something must've happened for her to keep her mouth shut.

While the rest leave, Yuta walks forward to the boys with his hands in his pocket. He breaths out running his hands through his hair. "We asked for the minimum sentence for both Renjun and Jeno, so your serving might be 1-2 years of imprisonment. Donghyuck and Mark, minimum could be 15 years and maximum could be 25 years. With parole I can simmer it down to 5 years. That's only if you've truly learnt your lesson. Despite your charges, Renjun you asked me if they'd charge you for burning the house. The answer is no. Miss Yezi claimed that Mark stated he would burn the house, but when checking the footage outside, the house erupted in flames due to the oil leakage from one of the cars before it bursted. So damage of property is not in your case, besides he's got insurance for that." Yuta adds. The only person who needed parole was Renjun and Jeno, the rest should be convicted, but Yuta isn't about to say that. As long as his job is finished and he got the rightfully claimed punishments then he was satisfied. "Actually Renjun, even with your renewed papers, there's a high chance they might send you back to China for imprisonment, so try not to be shocked when they give that sentence."

Donghyuck clinches his jaw the whole time, even as Yuta leaves the judge comes back and everyone is seated again and their told to rise. He knows he deserves punishments, Mark deserves it, Jeno... the point is, Donghyuck knows that it was his fault in the first place why Renjun was dragged into all of this. Is wasn't his fault. He didn't deserve the punishments. So when the Officer spokesman begins to read the servings, he hopes in his head that Renjun will get a lighter sentence.

"Lee Jeno. Guilty, of the said charges. His sentence, 10 months in county jail and 2 months of community work in house arrest. Huang Renjun. Guilty, of said charges. His sentence, 12 months imprisonment and will be deported to China for another 6 months of serving."

"Th-that's 1 year and a half," Donghyuck whispers and turns to Renjun. "Yuta can probably simmer it down. Don't worry okay, it's cool."

Renjun bottom lips trembles but he nods his head agreeing with Donghyuck. He's just upset that he has to be deported back to China.

"Lee Donghyuck. Guilty. His sentence 10 years in prison with parole and community service of 2 months. Lee Mark. Guilty. 15 years in prison with parole."

While the boys are stunned by the minimum sentence received Lee Taeyong as well as Chenle are enraged with the sentences. What the fuck is 15 years? For rape and murder? 10? 15? Chenle can only sigh in bitterness as his hands move up and down Dae's side.

"Your honor. My client opts for restraining order as well."

Yuta nods his heads. "And my client Renjun opts for a recheck on being deported. He's got his papers in order and article 16 of Mistake of facts, applies for today's time. He's papers are in order."

Taeyong rolls his eyes. "Even if his papers are in order, he should still be punished and learn never to walk around a foreign country with fabricated documents. Does he even have legal adoption papers?" Renjun flinches by Taeyong's harsh tone.

"That's not-"

"Your honor." Taeyong cuts Yuta in anger. "We do not agree to the appeal."

Judge Suho beats his gravel. "All sentences are to be carried out with no changes. Restraining order granted. This court is now dismissed."

5 Years later

The metal gates slide close after Donghyuck steps out. He rubs his wrists looking up to the hot sun taking in the air of his new freedom. Finally. He’s out.

Getting out of prison with a warrant wasn't easy at all, but not as much as it was to get a job of any kind with so many prison charges. Thankfully, Donghyuck's mother came to his rescue. She worked as a day care teacher assistant and their school was in need of a cleaner. It wasn't a luxurious position, but Donghyuck took it just to prove to his mother that he was serious in mending their relationship.

So being a 'janitor' his main responsibilities included getting on the school grounds early, cleaning up classes when students were not inside, disposing of trash and waiting until the school day was over and all the kids went home to clean again. Those were his responsibilities, but it became tough when parents didn't pick up their kids on time at 13.00. Donghyuck hated when parents would fetch their kids late. Reason being, because he'd need to make sure that the school was 100% empty before him to go home. And if it was not 100% empty, then he wasn't allowed to go home.

Donghyuck picks up the heavy green plastic of trash consisting of used but not limited to dirty recyclable materials, and walks out the classroom and onto the hallway that would lead to the playground field where all the different sets of dumpsters would be. After dumping the trash inside and closing the lid he digs into his pocket to his buttoned phone to check the time.

15:29.

Thirty more minutes until he could knock off. Upon walking back to the classroom, his eyes squint into the playground distance to the empty entrance gate- well not so empty. What catches his eye, is some sort of homeless looking guy in dirty black sweatpants and a faded out red Coca-Cola t-shirt with holes, walking towards a child sitting on a bench. Donghyuck sighs and walks towards the entrance. His whole presence alone causes the homeless guy to deviate and part away crossing the street. The vulnerable child isn't even aware that she's been spared from danger as she continues humping on the bench. Getting a bit sexual and seemingly trying to reach her pleasure.

Donghyuck scratches his neck wondering if he should be stopping the child or tell his mum once again. Even though they still weren't on good terms, he promised to be on his best behavior if it meant his mum helping him out.

Getting closer to the bench, Donghyuck notices the child seating down yet rocking her hips back and forth on the bench- almost grinding herself on it.

The sight is perverse.

However for Donghyuck, he'd gotten used to only one of the day care students who was consistent in grinding on anything and everything when she was bored. Areum.

Making himself more visible to the young girl, Donghyuck sits on the bench next to her. Her motion stops and she peers to the elder sitting next to her, a bright smile coating her lips. "Hi Mr Sunshine!"

"Hey Kid." Donghyuck greets in a mumbling tone making the girl chuckle. With his hands in his pocket and peering down at the girl who slowly continues to grind herself again, Donghyuck sighs. "Where's your parent?"

The child blinks causing Donghyuck to internally roll his eyes groaning lowly.

"Where's the person who's going to fetch you? You mum or dad or guardian?"

"Oh! Mummy's at work." She says nodding her head. "Uncle Jung is going to fetch me."

Donghyuck nods his head allowing the silence to take over. However his attention draws to the girl once again when she rocks her hips back and forth again. It's not the first time she's done this, however, every time that she does it, Donghyuck feels slightly uncomfortable. He's caught her on this bench all by herself on multiple occasions grinding for pleasure, not only the bench, but sometimes in class as well, on her chair. Donghyuck just wonders what exactly is going on in her head, while she literally dry humps the bench.

"Why are you doing that?" Areum peeks up and blinks her eyes. Donghyuck breathes out. Not wanting to say foreign words or words she's never heard before, he motions with himself and dry humps the bench similar to what she was doing. Areum catches on and smiles.

"It's a secret!" She leers. Despite her words, she seems excited to share the so called secret. And Donghyuck takes advantage of that, throwing his best cunning and charming personality.

"Can I know the secret?" Donghyuck asks with a pretense stunned face, being cunningly friendly. "I thought we're friends?"

"Okay." Areum looks around skeptically. "It's a secret." And laughs. "Uncle Jung said I should tell no one, even if its nice."

Donghyuck's brows furrow. "What's nice?"

Areum laughs covering her mouth frantically. In Donghyuck's head she looks the happiest while trying to be cryptic. She stands up and jumps up happily before her fingers begin to move. Donghyuck's eyes widen when she lifts up her white skirt revealing her yellow panty. He hesitates for a second until he realizes that her hand fumbles and makes it's way inside her panty. He's quick to taking her hands out while having a morbidly shocked face.

She giggles, being way too excited. "Let me show you."

The secret? The secret has something to do with an uncle and a child? This only makes Donghyuck widely panic. "Fuck,"

"Oh oh." She covers her mouth in sudden surprise. "Do you also play fuck like Uncle Jung?" Before a smile latches onto her face. A chill runs down Donghyuck's spine. "Uncle Jung said fuck is a game. It's my favorite game." She whispers out.

His eyes widen. In all his years of being in prison, he sorta had the chance to reflect on where he'd like to be once he's out. And right now, talking to this girl feels dangerous. It's a problem. And this is not what he wants at all. If he tells his mum, there might be a high case of him being in a feud with the family of the young girl's parents. At the same time because the daycare already don't like him, he and his mum might both be fired from god knows what- Donghyuck is aware of how much they're waiting for him to slip up. But yet, he can't stop himself from asking. "Can you tell me more about his game? I don't know it."

"Don't tell anyone. Not even Mrs Chittaphon. Or mummy. Only Uncle Jung and I play this game," She nods her head and smile. "It's a nice game. I get to sit on him and ride the horsey!"

Donghyuck's eyes burst out of their sockets. Just as his lips become dry. He clears his throat asking. "Does he remove your clothes?"

She shakes her head. "No." She smiles. That sort of makes Donghyuck cool down again, however he's still in edge by the word horsey and what exactly she rides or what exactly has he shown her. "Can I show you?"

Donghyuck shakes his head with a tight smile, feeling bad for the little girl who seems brainwashed. "It's fine, I don't want to play the game today,"

"Uncle Jung likes to play it after work," Areum smiles. And that literally breaks Donghyuck's heart. Such a small, sweet and innocent little girl being manipulated by a ravaging uncle wolf.

"What does he do in the game?" Donghyuck asks after gaining her trust by sealing his lips shut with an invisible key.

"He tickles me here." Areum points to a part in her skirt (most likely her private area) and that makes Donghyuck mad. The urge to telling his mum growing. "And does like this," using her middle finger, she surprisingly rubs it on her yellow panty causing Donghyuck to quickly hold her hand.

"Your fucking uncle is raping you." He can't hold himself back when he glares into her eyes while shaking his head.

"My playing uncle is raping?" She asks with a puzzled face. "What's rape?"

Donghyuck sucks in a breath, and with distress he runs his hands through his hair. Before he turns back to Areum his eyes latch onto a black vehicle pulling up on the street. "Shit. Hey sweet cheeks, I need you to listen alright. Don't tell Uncle Jung that you told me, okay?"

She instantly nods his head. "I won't tell him. He'll be angry with me. Don't worry Mr Sunshine, it'll be our little secret."

The black vehicle parks right in front of them, with Donghyuck creating some distance while Areum can't stop giggling at her secret. A man, smartly dressed in a suit with parted hair, steps out the car with a charming smile growing on his lips when Areum jumps from the bench running to him. Donghyuck stands up with his hands stuffing in his pocket.

"Uncle Jung!" Areum cheers hugging him by his legs. Upon hearing the name, Donghyuck's eyes do a double take towards the man. The man squats all the way down with an antagonizing friendly smile, and puckers his lips allowing for Areum to kiss his lips before she giggles like the naïve little girl she is. She begins jumping up and down in place while the man stands. "Did you buy the toys?"

"My little puppy, I bought you so many toys for you to enjoy. They're gonna make you feel real good," Hearing the voice of the older male, his underlying tone of condescension and how much authority he has over the little girl, Donghyuck can't help it when his fists tighten into a ball. His jaw clinches when the male with a charismatic smile grins his way. "She wasn't a bother was she?"

Donghyuck's jaw locks and he looks away, only making Jaehyun continue as if he didn't get ignored.

"Either way, thanks for keeping her company."

Placing Areum in the backseat and placing her bag in the boot, the man known as Uncle Jung gets into his driver's seat and begins driving away. Donghyuck can only stand with his fists balled up as he watches the car stride away. In his head, although the situation was sickening, he already told himself he wouldn't get involved. His mum's reputation, as well as his own reputation was on the line.

"Poor girl." Donghyuck sighs walking back in the school. Little did he know that the little girl in the car of the grown old ‘uncle’ was his own ‘bastard child’ from the night he raped Yezi.

*****

The End: to be continued in SEASON 2: SOS: POISON IN MY MIND

WC. 47k if you like reading longshots then this if for you

159 notes · View notes

haesunlover · 8 months

Text

long to be home. (intro)

pairing: huang renjun x female!reader

series genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, eventual smut

word count: 2.1k words

chapter warnings: fluff, light angst, reader is an aspiring writer, renjun being the best bf ever, mark talking about his dick for a second, nothing else really.

the page on the computer screen remained blank, like your thoughts as you tried to remember any childhood memories. you threw your head back groaning, trying to rattle your brain for any sort of progress. giving up, you opened the facetime app on your computer and dialled the only person who can help in this scenario.

"hey sexy," your high school best friend says as she answered the phone. "to what do i owe the pleasure?"

just hearing her voice instantly made you burst into tears. "i'm trying to write but i am fucking clueless. i'm trying to put together my childhood but it's so blurry. i can see it but i can't at the same time. it's so stupid but i'm so fucked. my brain is absolutely fried." you blurt out, holding your head in your hands.

"woah, wait. is this about your show that you're writing? the one about your life?" lia asks, confused and concerned at this sudden outburst bringing the phone closer to her face.

you nodded your head, pushing your hair away from your face and now properly looking at the camera. "yes. i'm like.. stuck. i'm not getting anywhere cause i can't remember all the details." you huffed after taking a deep breath in, trying to calm yourself down. "i'm getting so frustrated."

lia nodded her head before pulling a naughty smirk at the camera. "you know what i think?" she asked.

"what?"

"i think you need to come home. you've been gone for too long and can't remember anything. you need a memory refresher. and a holiday to come see me." she said, looking pretty proud of her suggestion.

you let out a chuckle, shaking your head at her. "i'd love to but i can't just drop everything and come over."

confusion flashed over lia's face. "why not? don't you have like a whole month off? and doesn't renjun get a two week break soon?" she asked, making a very valid point.

you thought about it. a trip back home to australia with your boyfriend and getting to see your best friend after four years. sounds great in theory but.. "i mean, i'm not sure. i don't know if i'm mentally rea- '' you started to talk and tear up but was cut off by the sound of the keypad to the apartment being used.

"shit, i gotta go. i'll keep you updated. talk to you soon!" you quickly exclaimed, shutting the lid of the laptop. you quickly wiped the tears away from under your eyes and smoothed out your hair as if you weren't about to rip it out moments before.

"y/n? you here, my love?" you hear your boyfriend, renjun, call out for you. you quickly jump out of the desk chair and walk out into the living area to see him and the rest of the dream members.

"hey guys, i'm sorry for staying for so long. i lost track of time. i'll head out now so you guys can rest up after working hard today." you explained, jolting your fist in a little 'fighting' sign as you look around at them all.

mark shook his head and asked, "what are you talking about? it's movie night! it's my pick tonight. plus rina will be over soon."

your face dropped a bit, knowing that you weren't in the right headspace to be around the boys. you just wanted to go lie in your own bed and contemplate the previous conversation you had with lia.

renjun's eyebrows furrowed as he scanned your face, coming closer and grabbing your hand. "have you been crying?"

feeling called out, you mirrored his expression. "no? what makes you think that?" you ask defensively.

his face remained firm, giving you a look that showed he knew you were lying. "your nose is red. that is such a tell tale sign for you crying."

you muttered a quiet 'shit' under your breath and tugged his arm that was still attached to your hand towards the front door. "can we go on a walk please?" you say, the room falling completely silent out of nosiness and concern. renjun silently nodded and followed you out of the front door and into the elevator.

the elevator ride down was silent. it was silent until the two of you walked out of the lobby and down into the street. "should we go to the park?" renjun asked, squeezing your hand that he has not let go of since he first grabbed it. you nodded, slightly swinging your hands together.

after walking quietly for about five minutes, the two of you reached the park and sat on a familiar park bench that you and the boys go to often.

renjun let go of your hand and grabbed a seat first, putting his arm over the back of the bench as if he was inviting you to cuddle into him. you flashed him a shy smile and sit next to him, throwing your legs over his lap and snuggling into him.

he has yet to say anything. he's learned over the year of being with you that you'll open up when you're ready and not to rush you.

it took a few moments before you found the courage to speak up, "i want to go home."

"but we were just at home?"`

"no. 'australia' home."

"okay."

you stared at him, puzzled. "that's it? you're okay with that?"

he nods his head, grabbing your hand. "i'm okay with it. the real question is are you okay with it? are you ready to go back?"

and that's exactly why you're stuck. you had thought about going home a lot recently, even before lia brought it up. the last few years in australia were life changing to say the least. you knew you'd go back eventually and face the past but not this soon. but over the last few days, you've realized it's something you must do in order to move on.

"honestly, renjun? no, i am so scared. but it's something i need to do." you answered, shakily while leaning on his shoulder.

you felt him nodding his head with a small 'mhm..' vibrating through his body. "may.. may i ask what's brought this on all of a sudden?"

you turn your head up to look at him, faces close together. "i've been trying to write but it's almost like i have writers block. except with my childhood memories. i can't seem to remember a lot. it started a few days ago. i thought about going home once. but then i thought about it again and again. then i called lia.. and she suggested the same thing. i think it's time. it's kind of bittersweet, thinking about going home. part of me longs to go back home but the other part is scared shitless." you rambled.

renjun peered down at you, looking between your eyes. "alright baby. it's no problem. we'll go back to the dorms and figure out the logistics soon."

you nodded at the start of his suggestion but looked at him confused as he finished it. "soon? why soon?"

he smiled and leaned down, kissing you softly. he put his free hand on your chin, holding you as you kissed. renjun then pulled away, "i don't know about you but i hear the playground calling our names." he said with a childish smile plastered on his face.

"i am so in love with you." you mumble, staring at him lovingly. you quickly looked around the park, making sure there was nobody around before laughing and jumping off the bench to run towards the playground. "last one to the swings is a rotten egg!"

by the time you two got back to the apartment, the lights were off in the hallway. only the tv light could be seen shining from the living room. you guys walked into the room and saw that the group were already about halfway through the movie and mark's girlfriend, also one of your closest friends, had joined.

spotting a spare seat next to mark and rina on the three seater couch, you let go of renjun's waist that you were previously holding and head towards the couple quietly. rina lets out a small sound of surprise as you fit yourself into the couple's cuddles. "hi, my rainbow. where've you been?" she asked as she leaned over and gave a quick kiss to your cheek.

"yo, why did my dick twitch a little?" mark mumbled, watching the two of you. both rina and you rolled your eyes at him. renjun walked behind the couch, heading to the only free seat in the room on the beanbag but not without smacking mark across the head first.

you couldn't help but laugh at the stupidity of them, knowing mark meant no harm. "renjun and i were at the park, having a chat." you explained, nuzzling yourself into rina. your friend shifted in her seat, turning her full attention to you.

"shit, what about?" she asked, pulling the blanket away from mark and onto your legs instead.

"well, we wer-"

"oh my god, here we go again. can you guys talk in another room please? you do this every time you see each other. the two of you literally talk for hours." chenle groaned, throwing his head back before looking at the pair of you. there were mumbles of agreement, even from your boyfriends.

giggles fell from both yours and your friend's lips as the two of you push off the couch and into the kitchen to talk. rina pulls herself onto the kitchen bench and you mirror her action but onto the kitchen island. "alright, spill." rina says, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl next to her.

"i'm going back home to australia for a while." you say, scanning rina's face.

she stopped peeling her banana and slowly nodded, thinking about what to say. "okay.. and am i invited?" she asked, taking a bite of the banana.

you looked at her confused at apparently her only thought. "you don't have anything else to say? any advice? am i being crazy?"

"well shit, if you're going back there then you'll need moral support. which will be me!" she exclaims cheerfully.

you thought for a second. you two had been talking about going on vacation for awhile and she is actually incredible support. it'll also give rina a chance to go back home too. "i mean, i don't see why not? renjun and i decided on going during his break. would mark be okay with that?" you asked. rina quickly shoved the rest of the banana in her mouth, letting out a muffled 'let me ask.'

she jumped off of the kitchen bench and walked back into the living room with you not too far behind her. "mark, wanna go to australia with us?" she asked quite loudly over the movie. the room erupted in noise, some of the boys talking amongst each other and others trying to talk to you two girls.

"shit, i didn't know i'd cause that much of a fuss." she awkwardly mumbled, returning to her seat next to mark.

chenle spoke up loudly over the noise, "why are you guys going to australia?" he asked looking between you and rina. you groaned, walking to the lightswitch and turning it on so you can actually see everybody properly. you grabbed the remote off the table and quickly paused the movie.

"me and renjun are going back to australia to go sort things out. some family things." which wasn't entirely a lie, "rina wants to come because we've been planning a holiday together long before renjun and i even started dating. she'll also be going home to australia so obviously she wouldn't go without mark." you continued to explain.

it was jeno that spoke up next, "well, can we come too?" he asked softly next to jaemin. the two of them both showing you a very similar innocent, boyish look. you look at renjun, silently asking for help.

he pushed himself out of the beanbag and made his way over to where you were standing by the tv, "well, how about we go, just us, for the first few days and then the rest of them can join us later?"

you nodded in approval, look at everyone else to see if they give the same approval. everyone was showing some way of saying yes. it was jisung who spoke up next, "where are we even going?"

"we're going back to my hometown on the gold coast." the room erupted in noise again, but this time in excited chatter. whilst everyone was talking, you turn to renjun with a half excited and half scared look on your face.

"i guess this is it. i'm going home."

#nct imagines #nct smut #nct dream reactions #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #renjun smut #renjun imagine #huang renjun imagine #huang renjun smut #park jisung imagine #jisung imagine #chenle imagine #jeno imagine #jaemin imagine #mark imagine #nct 00 line smut #haechan imagine

142 notes · View notes

markberries · 2 years

Text

take my hand ﹒ ml

synopsis﹕ when you and mark parted ways, you took forever to heal from it. when you see mark onstage again, you're not sure if you ever recovered in the first place.

genre + ﹕ huge amount of angst, fluff at the end (i promise), fem reader, exes to lovers, non idol!reader, idol!mark, best friends johnny + jaehyun

wc ﹕ 6.7k

warnings ﹕ cursing

you always believed in true love.

as cheesy and immature as it sounds, ever since you were in high school, you had felt like you would eventually meet ‘the one’. your mind was set on the idea that through thick and thin, your soulmate would never leave you.

well, you believed that up until you broke up with mark lee.

it all happened seven months ago, when a perfect relationship was ripped to shreds. you had been dating for just over a year when it occurred, and you truly believed that you were meant to be together. the twenty-two year old knew you like the back of his hand, and underneath his socially awkward self, was someone who just wanted to make you happy.

a kpop idol dating a regular, non celebrity individual, was difficult to say the least; it was hard to match up your schedules, but in the end, you two made it work. you never complained about him being too busy, and you often encouraged him to continue doing what he loved. that’s what made you two work so well, the ability to understand each other.

mark was never the type to lash out. in fact, you don’t think you have ever seen him angry before the incident. he would get frustrated, but never angry. and he never took it out on you. with two upcoming comebacks, you knew he would be stressed out, but you tried your best to help him out. you would bring food for all the members at practice, clean up the dorm, and you gave him as much love as possible.

he loved any form of skinship with you, he found it comforting during his difficult times — so you didn’t think twice when you went to go hug him when he came back to the dorm after practice. he opened the door, no one behind him as he seemingly came home early from work that day.

you smiled when you heard the sound of the lock turning, switching your phone off as you ran to the front door to greet him. he looked so exhausted when you finally caught a glimpse of his face. he took off his shoes and hung up his jacket, but as soon as he was finished, you wrapped your arms around him. this time was different. he didn’t even bother hugging you back, instead he basically shrugged you off and walked straight to the dining table.

you didn’t think much of it at the time, you just thought that he had been working too much the past few days so it was fine if he didn’t want to hug you. yes, you were taken aback at first, but you got over it. you followed him, watching him sit down in silence as he ate the food you cooked.

“does it taste okay?” you asked, sitting down across from him. he replied with more silence, barely even sparing you a glance. that’s when you began suspecting something was wrong, and you weren’t sure if it was work or if it was something you did.

you decided not to say anything until he was finished eating, hoping that maybe he would actually respond to you with actual words when he was done. the time is filled with the sound of his chopsticks against his bowl and the car horns honking outside the dorm.

you watched him swallow his last bite and get up to wash his bowl. you take this opportunity to speak again, questioning, “are you okay?”

“fine,” he answered, in almost a snappy tone. he put his now clean bowl back in the cupboard.

“are you sure?” at this point you were beginning to worry a bit more, thoughts raced through your mind, trying to pinpoint the source of his irregular unpleasantness.

“yeah, i said i’m fine.”

what a liar, you thought to yourself as he placed both of his hands on the edge of the counter.

“we both know that isn’t true,” you knew what was coming. although it was rare, you always had a feeling of when you two would argue.

“holy shit, how many times do i need to say it? i’m fine!”

mark’s sudden outburst makes you flinch, and it made you wish that you had just left it alone the first time you asked. despite the volume change in his voice, you continued to speak.

“you know you can tell me anything.. that’s why we’re together.”

you realize your attempt to defuse the situation backfired on you when he turned to you, a nasty glare directed towards you upon his face.

“well maybe i don’t want to tell you everything, why can’t you leave me alone for one fucking second!” he fumed, moving his hands to emphasize his words.

in that moment, you’re scared. he had never yelled at you like that. you wouldn’t view yourself as a sensitive person, but it was mark. you were so afraid of disappointing him that having him raise his voice towards you made you feel like you did.

“d-did i do something wrong?” you managed to say quietly, which made him even more irritated than he already was.

“oh my god, you’re what’s wrong. i just wanted one day where i could come home and relax by myself, but here you are! you always think you’re playing the perfect girlfriend. well you’re wrong.”

you froze, choking back cries and holding back tears. you gripped at the hem of your shirt tightly, your knuckles becoming white, “i’m sorry. i didn’t realize that i was affecting you that much.”

he scoffs, clicking his tongue. “there’s a lot of things that you fail to realize.”

“if you truly feel that way, then maybe we shouldn’t be together at all,” although your reply seems argumentative, it's just you trying to make mark calm down. you’re trying to grasp at strings, you only said that statement in the heat of the moment. you knew, or at least you thought, mark wouldn’t end things just because of one argument.

“maybe we shouldn’t.”

your breathing stops for a single moment. you ask yourself, did i hear that right? but when you see the look on his face, you register that was exactly what he said. when that understanding hits, and it hits you hard, you can’t hold back your teardrops anymore. they fall from your eyes like rain, hitting the polished wooden floors.

you don’t say anything, you just stand up to gather your things and muster out a broken-hearted “okay.”

you feel pathetic seven months later for still thinking about him. he didn’t even bother contacting you after the incident, which makes you wonder how long he was actually thinking about breaking up with you.

of course the other members checked up on you a lot, but you somewhat drifted away from most of them. they always said you were always welcome to come over if mark wasn’t home, but you politely declined. you had been out with them a lot, but recently you have been trying to stay away.

the only people you talk to regularly were jaehyun and johnny, their company was always comforting and they never mentioned mark around you. whenever you hung around the dreamies they always tried to play matchmaker, making up reasons to get you and mark back together.

“should we order food or something?” johnny suggests as he lays on your black l-shaped couch. jaehyun is sitting on the ground, watching a random netflix movie intently with his feet under your coffee table.

“what do you feel like?” you ask, taking a seat next to jaehyun.

they always came over, knowing well that you weren’t comfortable in the dorm anymore. you appreciate how they always keep in mind your feelings and thoughts when it came to mark, they never try to push your boundaries and they wouldn’t bother you about your love life.

“actually i heard about this really good pork katsu place,” jaehyun chimes, turning his head to look at johnny.

“sounds good to me,” you chime.

a sudden noise from johnny’s phone makes you look in his direction. his eyes widen for a split second, but he gets up to answer it right after.

“i’ll order it right after this call,” he says, walking to your hallway. you can’t help but bitterly smile, knowing it was mark. otherwise johnny would have answered it in front of you.

“i’m at her house right now.. yeah she’s doing good,” you hear his voice say to mark on the phone. cute, he was still checking up on you.

jaehyun is fast to try and switch your attention to him, asking, “is it okay if we sleepover today? just need a break from the others.”

“sure, we can watch movies and you guys can sleep on my couch,” you nod your head, diving your hand into a bowl of popcorn that sat on your coffee table.

the night was still young — the moonlight creeping in and shining in your dimly lit living room. the dialogue of the movie is intriguing, but not interesting enough to overlap your desire to hear johnny’s conversation with mark.

“just call her..”

your anxiety can’t help but shoot up when the idea of mark calling you after seven long and hard months after your separation. you were sure he stopped caring the day you walked out the door, or even before that. in your mind, if he truly didn’t mean what he said that night, he would have tried to make contact with you earlier.

“do you have blankets?” jaehyun piped, his head turning in your direction.

“yeah one second, i’ll grab them!” you answer, standing up to get the faux wool sheets from your linen closet. almost right on time, johnny was just hanging up the phone when he saw you.

“you heard that?” he says to you, almost hoping you didn’t. you nod, although you haven’t completely healed from everything, you weren’t fragile. you could handle hearing mark’s name.

“don’t worry about it, he’s just being an idiot,” johnny consoles you. you shrug.

“it’s fine, he’s your friend! i get it,” you tell him, “but could you help me get the blankets and pillows from my closet?”

“of course.”

you reenter the living room with johnny, items for your sleepover in each other’s hands. jaehyun watches you two, specifically johnny as they exchange eye contact (probably due to his abrupt phone call).

you snicker, “you guys don’t have to baby me anymore. i swear i’m okay.”

“what do you mean? we aren’t babying you,” jaehyun clicks out of his movie, searching for a different one for the three of you to watch.

“you can talk about mark, c’mon you guys suck at hiding stuff,” you can’t help but laugh in your head. they could keep comebacks a secret for months but couldn’t keep quiet about one guy? you weren’t complaining, in reality you couldn’t blame them at all.

“sorry y/n,” jaehyun awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, and you pat his shoulder.

“don’t apologize! i’m okay, i promise,” you try to reassure them. by the looks on their faces, you can tell they still feel a bit bad. you quickly snatch the remote out of jaehyun’s hands, noticing that the glances between him and johnny was stopping him from deciding on a movie.

yes, the recovery for you after the separation was hard, and you understood why the two tall boys were wary about talking about him to you. after all, they pretty much had to watch you go through everything. not to mention how they also knew mark’s side of the story, which you chose not to ask about.

in the end, you felt like you had grown from most of the hurt you were put through. sure, there were still some flashing memories and multiple instances where you would ask yourself what led up to that moment, but you usually brushed it off with no other questions.

let’s just say a lot of the damage had already been dealt with and worked through, so now you just want to focus on yourself and your friends. but you knew for sure that if mark came back and asked to be with you again, you would never hesitate on saying yes.

—

you stretch your arms out with a yawn, a blanket strewn across your figure that you don’t remember putting on. you tiredly rub at your eyes, sun rays shining nicely onto your floor. you found yourself on the couch, head nearly touching johnny’s as he scrolled on his phone.

he was lying the opposite direction as you, a pillow on his chest and his eyes flashed to yours.

“you’re finally awake,” he teases, a dumb grin on his face at the sight of your bed hair. a strong scent of fried eggs fills your nostrils, which makes you sit up and peek to your left. it’s jaehyun, placing plates of food proudly onto your white dining table. there’s a satisfactory smile on his face as he does so.

he catches sight of you, patting the table. “hungry?”

you get up from your spot on the couch as johnny does the same. all three of you take seats at the dining table, happily munching on the arrangement of eggs, toast, and hashbrowns.

“should we do anything today?” you queried, covering your mouth with one hand as you chewed. you watch as your two friends exchange looks, like they both knew what to say.

“we have a performance later tonight.. we really want you to come and i’m sure the others would love to see you too. but of course we’ll respect your decision on whether or not you want to see it.”

they both await your response to jaehyun’s offer, almost nervous to see if you would react poorly. you love jaehyun and johnny, and you miss the rest of the boys too. you’re just unsure about how you would act after not seeing mark for so long.

“what kind of performance is it?” you inquire, and you see jaehyun exhale in relief. “it’s a 127 performance stage, and you’re always welcome to visit us backstage right after the song.”

you’re worried that all the hard work you did to lessen the hurt from months before will all be ruined after seeing mark. but then again, you can’t really say you’re over him if you can’t stand seeing his face. this was your opportunity to face your fears and your past — something you’re well aware of that you have been avoiding.

“but then again, you can just leave right after-”

you cut jaehyun off with a sweet smile, “i’ll be there.”

—

“shit, fuck!” you exclaim to yourself after hitting your hand on your bed frame. when jaehyun and johnny had left your house to go practice before the performance, you had covered your face in horror when you realized exactly what you agreed to.

you threw outfits around your room, anxiously holding up different pieces up to your body while checking the mirror. you don’t know what came over you, a surge of confidence or maybe it had been you overestimating your ability to keep your composure.

who were you kidding? you would never be getting over mark. as strong as you crave to be, you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if you were still together until this day.

there was way too much anxiety building up inside of you, constantly deciding if you should dress up nicely to show that you were fine without him, or just settling on sweatpants to make him think you didn’t care what he thought anymore.

your eyes are switching from both outfits rapidly, silently cursing yourself for getting into this situation in the first place. you throw your sweats on the ground, checking the time on your phone before putting on a brown skirt and white tshirt that suited your frame nicely.

johnny and jaehyun were sweet enough to get early access for you, so you could beat all the other fans and not deal with the craziness of being stepped on while rushing into the venue.

you threw on a cream oversized cardigan, slipping a brown bag over your shoulder, rushing to put your shoes on and get out of the door. of course your phone was blowing up, you knew that your two friends had told others in the 127 subunit about your sudden attendance.

donghyuck was going crazy, spamming you at every second saying he was so excited to see you again. his messages included questions of your arrival, plans after the show, and just random selfies and pictures of the other members. you would constantly smile at the goofy photos that he would take, and it made you less nervous to go to the venue.

the taxi ride on the way was quiet, with your mind full of possible scenarios that could occur and emotions that had a chance of erupting. clouds scattered around the blue sky, the sun shining brightly into the leather seated car. your hands are settled on your legs, eyes on the cars passing by. the driver sparks up small talk, probably in hopes of a generous tip as you respond with simple answers.

your heartbeat grows faster and louder when the building enters your line of sight. fans are already lining up, flashes of color from the adorable handmade signs that they clutched casually. you smile at a cute gigantic photo of jaehyun, directing the driver to a side entrance where you could enter quietly, and unseen.

you thank the driver, handing him cash before stepping out of the car. you look up at the building, putting a hand on your forehead to block out the sun. two bodyguards are placed at the entrance, standing intimidatingly as they stare at you. you reach into your bagt, taking out your phone to text jaehyun.

just then, the door opens. a man who you do not recognize has a headset on, a mask over his face as he motions for you to approach him. you quickly rush over to him, straightening out your outfit as the bodyguards make way for you to enter.

once you set foot inside, it’s quite dark compared to the brightness of the daylight outside. the air conditioning is soothing and the faint sound of music fills your ears, probably from the stage itself.

“hello,” you greet the man as soon as the door closes. he speaks into a walkie-talkie, before greeting you back. he ushers you to follow him, leading you to where you will be in the audience. he seems to be trying to move as quickly as possible, which is understandable.

he pushes open a door, revealing the stage and some of the members on it. he speaks to another worker briefly, before telling you to just stand in the front. you move awkwardly, watching as donghyuck and doyoung spoke to each other. they didn’t notice you in the dark, not until you reached the front of the stage.

their eyes shifted towards you, donghyuck’s eyes widening.

“y/n!” he ran to you like a little kid, climbing down the stairs with a smile on his face. doyoung followed closely behind him, also happy to see you.

before you’re able to react, hyuck is enveloping you in a huge hug, crushing you. he’s pretty much squealing while doyoung ruffles your hair. it had been months since you last saw them, saying you didn’t miss this would be a blatant lie. you happily wrap your arms around the boy, smiling back.

he pulls away, shaking your shoulders excitedly. “i can’t believe you’re here!”

“how have you been?” doyoung gushes.

“i’ve been good! i’m so glad i get to see you guys again, and i get to see you performing too!” you exclaim, a cheery look evident on your face when you admire the two. you take the time to soak in the venue, the scene set for the stage, the screens, and the countless number of cameras scattered about.

“you’re so cute y/n,” donghyuck coos, pinching your cheek. you squint in slight pain, rubbing your face after he let go.

“i’m sure the others will be happy to see you after,” doyoung mentions. he turns to hyuck, who is still babying you and clinging onto your arm. you forgot how much he loved to smother you, and how much you craved seeing the others again. you were always close to the boys — you just seemed to easily get along with them and grow comfortable in their presence.

“we should prepare before the fans are let in, we don’t want our y/n getting in trouble,” doyoung reminds the younget, patting your shoulder. the corners of your lips lift at the gesture, nodding along.

“no scandals, please,” you say jokingly, making hyuck roll his eyes.

“can’t we talk just a little longer?” he practically begs. doyoung pushes him away before he can protest, saying, “we’ll see her after the performance!”

you wave them goodbye, watching the staff run across the stage and pointing them where to go. they walk offstage, the pit of nervousness in your stomach beginning to grow larger.

right on time, the fans start pouring in, the chaos is relatively contained. a staff member was directing the fans who would be standing, while the people sitting in the upper sections found their seats on their own. lightsticks were basically in everyone’s hands, making you feel a bit guilty for not getting one for yourself.

the talking grows louder as people start taking places next to you. you were right against the barricade, and you’re grateful that everyone was polite enough to not push against each other that much. some people have signs, some wearing cute headbands with a member’s name or face, and some with pickets.

“i’m so excited,” a fan says to you, catching you off guard. you forgot that people at concerts were usually friendly, but that’s what makes you love them so much.

“me too,” you agree, which isn’t exactly the truth. you’re more uneasy than excited.

“who’s your bias?” she asks you, going on her tippy toes to see if she could catch a glimpse of a member offstage.

you purse your lips, “hm, not sure. i like them all. what about you?”

“definitely mark!” she beams happily, and you smile at her thrilled reaction. gosh, you always failed to remember how popular mark is with his fanbase. it makes sense, especially with the amount of talent he holds — and you can’t forget his attractiveness.

the screams grow louder as the lights begin to dim, shadows moving around the stage. the people surrounding you let out ear piercing screams, making your face scrunch up as you cover your ears for a moment.

finally, the shadows stop moving. they create a formation, standing completely still. that’s when the onstage lighting is cued, revealing none other than nct 127. the fans are going wild, doyoung standing in the middle as he scans the crowd.

when the music begins to fade in, you can’t help but adjust to your environment and join in to cheer for your friends. your eyes shift to all of them, just so overjoyed to see their faces again. you have no idea who knows you’re here and who doesn’t, so you’re hoping to give them a pleasant surprise if they are able to spot you amongst the sea of people.

your face immediately drops when mark comes to the middle for the choreography. although it’s not in a bad way, it was just a habit of yours. you can’t help but fixate on him, his movements, his rapping, everything about him is just so mesmerizing. the girl next to you, who biases mark, sounds like she’s going through all five stages of grief when he does his part.

his dancing is so sharp and precise, yet there are so many levels of fluidity involved in it. his stage presence is amazing, keeping your eyes on him. it makes your stomach churn, hands gripping on the black metal barricade in front of you. you paid no attention to the fanchants being cheered in unison, only focusing on mark.

his eyes are going through everyone standing in the front row. he offers small smiles and facials to fit the song, and when his stare lands on you, he has to do a double take. you watch when his eyes flash to the next fan, only to go back to you. when he realizes that it’s you, his eyebrows furrowed together, making you a little embarrassed.

maybe you shouldn’t have come, because just watching him perform sparks up emotions that you buried deep down. for the entire dance, you can only keep your attention to mark. he would look somewhere else throughout the comeback stage, but often his gaze would return to you.

the audience space wasn’t huge, so the lighting was perfect to see everyone who stands right in front of the stage. that’s why you’re sure mark had seen you, because when the entire thing ends, he makes sure to take one last glance over to you before walking off with his members.

—

you’re left waiting in the audience once the performance ends, patiently lingering about as everyone leaves. you’re quite thankful that no one found it suspicious, as an article about you visiting the members backstage is the last thing you wanted. once the last of the fans exit the building, a staff member politely guides you to the members’ whereabouts.

you hear loud laughter and talking, being greeted with white hallways and doors. there are stylists and other employees packing their belongings, the sounds of makeup bags zipping open and closed fills your ears. you wave at those you recognize, offering small smiles to those you don’t. finally, you reach a half open door with a couple of the boys joking around with each other.

the person who was escorting you parted ways with you, and you make sure to thank them as well. you take a peek inside, seeing donghyuck, doyoung, johnny, and jaehyun. you smile to yourself, gripping your bag tighter. you knock softly on the door, poking your head through the doorway.

their heads cock towards your direction, all four of their faces relaxing when they realize that it’s you.

“you’re back!” hyuck bubbles, running towards you once again. you’re half relieved that mark isn’t in the same room, but the other half is a mix of emotions that you aren’t quite sure of.

before you know it, donghyuck is dragging you farther inside the room. johnny is lying down on the black leather couch, jaehyun propped up in a chair by the mirrors, while doyoung sits on the floor.

“wow, you actually came,” johnny says, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask playfully, glaring at him.

“nothing!”

“i missed you so much,” donghyuck exaggerates, unable to stop hugging you. he had always been the most clingy towards you, although in the past it had driven mark a little crazy, you didn’t mind at all.

“me too!” a voice chimed in from behind you. you turn your head, spotting yuta from the door you originally entered from. he has a huge grin on his face, acting just like donghyuck as he skips happily to hug you.

“did you enjoy the performance?” jaehyun asks, pointing to the chair next to him, indicating to you to sit next to him. you let go of donghyuck and yuta, which they weren’t so happy about. you smooth out the wrinkles in your outfit, nodding your head.

“it was amazing! it’s been so long since i’ve gotten to see you guys live and i almost forgot how talented you guys are,” you praise.

“we’re glad you liked it,” doyoung states, smiling. sitting around like this, around them, makes you reminisce on your past. all the dinners and hang outs, the visits to the dorm, the sleepovers, everything. you hope that everyday forward, you will be able to see them normally. they were quite literally your only friends you spent time with, and although you love johnny and jaehyun to death, you loved the others too.

“hey did you guys see my—”

your heart stops. you could recognize that voice from anywhere, even when you’re turned away from the entrance to the dressing room. the room falls silent, all eyes are on the person behind you. you turn your chair, only to be met with mark’s eyes. he’s standing still, already changed out of his stage outfit. you can see that the others are trying to find a way to lighten the mood or take the attention off you two, but no one says anything.

when donghyuck darts to leave the room, everyone follows him silently. the room is just left with the two of you, who are unable to say anything. all you do is look at each other, almost in disbelief. your face is heating up, with a strong urge to run away, hide. anything to get yourself away from here. mark’s lips are slightly parted, searching for the right words to say.

“i’m glad you came,” he blurts out, making you stare anywhere besides his brown orbs.

“oh,” you let out, “i didn’t think you would want to see me.”

your heart is shattering into a million pieces all over again, just by seeing his face. you’re reminded of what he said to you that night, how cruel he acted, the days you spent crying over the fact that you lost the love of your life.

“you look nice,” your head perks up, surprised to hear him say that. your heart thumps louder, legs pressed tightly together as the constant feeling of anxiousness begins to build up inside you once again.

“you too..”

“i-i wanted to talk to you actually,” mark manages to stutter out, his same old awkward self showing. “but not here though.”

you’re unsure of what is happening, questioning if this is even real, or if your mind is playing tricks on you.

“i’m not sure i’m comfortable with that.”

“please,” he basically pleads. his face has softened, eyes begging you to just hear what he has to say. it scares you so much, being sucked in like this again. he always had a way that made you melt into his hand, even if he was unaware of it. “i just want to talk about what happened..”

you were unsure if that was supposed to make you feel better. you didn’t know if you wanted to know what made him end your relationship, either way, you’re certain that it probably wouldn’t change anything. he would just be breaking your heart a little more.

“mark..”

“it’s not what you think,” he says, and for a moment, you can see a glimpse of hope. the glimmer that you want to deny, but the way he’s looking at you right now makes you want to say yes so badly.

he can’t stop staring at you as you get lost deep in thought. you’re eyeing him, full of contemplation as you have an internal battle with your own self. if anything, he owes you. even if it’s as little as an explanation, you deserve it.

you look to your hands again, which are sweating as they clasp together in your lap.

“okay.”

—

if someone had told you months ago, while you were recovering from the breakup, that you would be sitting in mark lee’s car months later, you would have laughed in their face. but as ironic as it sounds, here you were; overthinking every movement, sitting in quietness, incapable of speaking a single word to each other.

the radio isn’t on, the only sound is the engine and the passing cars that drove beside you. at times, you would find yourself glimpsing at his face, catching sight of him and how he still looked amazing.

you would quickly look back towards the window though, in fear of being caught. as much as you dreamt about this moment, you were still so scared. you didn’t want to have to go through what happened in the past twice.

you didn’t think of yourself as frail, in fact you believed you were someone who stood their ground. but when it came to mark, you could never say no. you classified it as a bad habit that you thought you got over, but your current situation proved to you that the habit still existed.

“we’re here,” mark breathes, placing the gear in park. he unbuckles his seatbelt, looking towards you. you’re nervous, but meet his eyes.

“are you okay?” he asks with concern. at this point, you don’t know what being okay means anymore. you had spent so much time in the past, convincing yourself that you were okay. but as you sit, next to the boy who you thought was your everything, you can’t tell if you had ever been okay in the first place.

“i think so,” you can’t help but mutter out in a small voice. he nods his head once, as you undo your own seatbelt as well. you both get out of the car at the same time, and you can’t lie that you’re taken aback when you realize he had parked right by a park, with a view of the water.

“why are we here?” you sound more irritated than you intended, causing mark to run a hand through his brown locks.

“so we could talk..”

“i didn’t think you would bring me someplace like this,” you reply back. although you’re a little confused, you follow mark to a picnic table that he guides you to.

you sit across from mark, hands placed on your thighs nervously. he’s looking at you the entire time, almost as if he’s studying your every movement.

“what is it?” you finally bring up. you needed to know why mark brought you here, and what this meant to him.

“is it okay if i explain myself?”

your heart basically sinks to your stomach. of course this is all he wanted, a chance to tell you the reasoning behind his decisions. you’re upset at yourself for making yourself vulnerable once again; putting your heart on your sleeve for mark to crush not once, but twice.

your legs are trembling under the table, your lip quivering ever so slightly. it isn’t noticeable to mark, and you’re praying that he doesn’t see your shakiness as you prepare yourself for his story. your posture isn’t the best, slightly hunched over only to relieve yourself of the intolerable twists your stomach was making. you nod your head, waiting for him to begin.

he takes a deep breath first, placing his hands on the table, “i’m going to begin with the obvious, the way i treated you wasn’t cool of me. as your boyfriend at the time, i wasn’t thinking straight.”

“okay,” is the only response you give.

“i fucked up badly. i’ll never forget what i said that night, and i’m sure you haven’t either. you were around me all the time, just taking care of me in general and making sure that i was healthy and going above and beyond. i didn’t deserve you. i just thought you were being clingy, and this isn’t an excuse but work was so stressful that i decided to mess up the one thing that kept me going.”

you’re beginning to zone out, processing his words. what was he trying to say? you’re so lost, numb almost, still in a wave of shock. your eyebrows are scrunched together, staring at his hands.

“when i brought it up with the other guys, they told me i wouldn’t realize what i lost until it was gone. until you were gone, and to be frank, they were right,” he places his elbows on the table, using both of his hands to hold either sides of his head.

“mark-”

“that’s not all i did wrong, i know. i didn’t even check up on you directly because i was so frustrated with what i did, i couldn’t face the shame. during the time we dated, i was always so caught up in my own business that i barely did anything for you, and i knew you would find someone better. someone who would treat you the way you’re meant to be treated, and i wasn’t ready to hear about that. but now i’m ready to face it, and i don’t have the right to ask you to forgive me, but i just need you to know how truly sorry i am.”

you don’t comprehend that mark is crying until his tears are dripping onto the paint chipped table. he looks at you with watery eyes, making you want to cry in return.

“you hurt me so badly,” you sniffle, wiping a tear from your face with your sleeve. he takes the chance to take your hand, holding it like he’s afraid to let go.

“i know i did, fuck, i’m so damn sorry,” he acknowledges, sucking in his bottom lip. “you were the best thing that ever happened to me, and i just needed to tell you that. i would never forgive myself if i didn’t, because everything i said to you when i was angry meant absolutely nothing. i don’t want this to affect you any longer, i don’t want you thinking you did anything wrong. you were, i mean are perfect.”

your fingers are intertwined so tightly, puffy eyes staring at each other. he gets up so swiftly, sitting next to you as he engulfs you in a secure hug. he buries his head in the crook of your neck while you grip at his sleeves.

“one more,” you whisper to him. he backs his head away, eyes red as he smiles sadly. he leans forward towards your lips, placing them on yours with shut eyes.

it’s full of passion, but not heat filled passion. it’s like you’re both trying to fill the holes in your heart that mark had created in the first place, mending your hearts back into one. it’s one of the things you missed most, being able to feel this again. the feeling of being safe in his arms, like there’s a whole world out there, but in the moment, the only things that mattered was you two.

everything that you suppressed is flowing back with one kiss, a kiss that you had been thinking about for quite a long time. he tucks your hair behind your ears as he pulls you closer, never wanting to stop. you both just want to live together, here in this very point in time.

he pulls away, wiping the tears from your eyes with his hand.

“mark,” you sigh, taking ahold of his face with both of your hands.

“i know,” he nods. “but you said one more.”

you smile at him, pecking his lips again. his eyes widen in surprise.

“i meant one more chance.”

his mouth opens, staring at you in disbelief. when he hears you say that, he can’t help but kiss every part of your face. by now, both of your teardrops had been turned into those of contentment.

“i will never hurt you like that again, and that’s a promise,” he states, “and i never intend to break it.”

you both rest your foreheads against each other, still so full of happiness to finally be brought back together. you hope mark is being truthful, because you know you can’t go through all of that pain again. but with that look on mark’s face, your trust starts to slowly build up again. paired with his apology, you know that he meant what he said.

you know that you found your best friend and the person you want to be with forever, especially when you watch the sunset together, just enjoying each others’ company. you’re sure that things will not end up like last time, and you’re certain that everything between you would be alright.

and from that point forward — it is.

#mark #mark fluff #mark angst #mark fanfic #mark imagine #mark lee #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #mark lee fanfic #mark lee imagine #nct #nct angst #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct imagine #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u

1K notes · View notes

lucyandthepen · 8 months

Text

sweet cream, cold brew | lmh ( m )

something about mark lee keeps you up at night, and you’re pretty sure that it isn’t the lingering smell of espresso on his shirt.

alternatively: mark is shy until he isn’t.

read the second part here!

pairing: nerd!barista!mark x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings&tags: unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slightly possessive/jealous dialogue, mark has a thing for tummy bulges because why not, implicitly that also means he has a big dick, a slight???? exhibitionism kink (not actually something that happens, only talked about), johnny exists in this simply to trigger something vaguely feral in mark, reader is a little bit assertive and schemes to get mark's attention, jaehyun is a nosy lil eavesdropper, i think that should be it?? word count: 26.4k

a/n: hello so this was a mess and honestly not a fic i would say showcases my best plot-wise but… what can I say apart from booty wurk mark has me in a chokehold and I needed to release some thoughts and feelings !!! please do not expect too much from the development of the story; i fear it’s quite long and choppy because my ideas were all over the place and i was wringing my hands and brain constantly and i was eager to get to the spicy parts !! this is also not beta’d/proofread, it’s currently almost 1am, and i’ve been writing this on and off for a full week with very few breaks so it honestly felt like a fever dream for me LMAO please forgive any oversights and mistakes; i’ll try to go back on them another day and fix them little by little! finally and …most importantly belated happy birthday, my beloved morkly!

p.s. this will probably be flagged as ‘mature’ by tumblr, which means there’s a high likelihood it won’t appear in tags or searches. please consider reblogging to boost the fic, if you feel so inclined!

You’ve heard tell of how caffeine has inherently addictive properties.

The more of it you have in your lifetime, the more likely you are to experience symptoms of withdrawal whenever you try to have orange juice for breakfast in its stead. It sounds bad, actually, considering most addictive substances are, but you suppose that its benefits somehow outweigh its milder drawbacks. You’re not much of a coffee connoisseur the way some people — see: your best friends, Yeji and Jisu — are, trying one cafe after the other in pursuit of being able to nominate the winning beans of 2023 (an annual heated debate they participate in for no better reason than their own slow and useless entertainment during their six-hour long breaks), but you do know you’ve only ever experienced good things from having a cup every so often: better energy, a more focused approach to mental activities, and the ability to drive through fifty percent of a road trip without needing pop punk music blasting out of your speakers to keep yourself alert.

The three of you are generally particular about the coffee you drink, only in different ways. While your friends have a tendency to demand only the best from any establishment — lest the staff hear fiery commentary about the flatness of the brew or the evident coarseness of the grind — you, on the other hand, are a singular individual of rather simple tastes. All you need to survive long days is a glass of vanilla sweet cream cold brew. No modifications to the sugar level or fancy new milk types are necessary; you’ll drink it as it’s served in a grande cup (or a venti, when things prove particularly grueling).

Of course, you’re strict about other things in the experience of consumption — like where it’s served and, more importantly, who serves it to you.

While Yeji and Jisu have rated the Liberal Arts building’s on-campus Starbucks branch as a five with the strict label of POEO — ‘passable on emergencies only’ — branding the menu as “nothing revolutionary” and criticizing most baristas for subpar brewery, you happen to be extremely drawn to the place. Initially, you may have argued that this has to do with the fact that it’s walking distance from most of your classes, confined to the same general compound on campus, so you can always grab a quick recharger whenever needed, no matter how short the timeframe to do so is. Sometime later on, you may have found yourself asserting that the layout of the cafe, albeit small, is very convenient, considering that every table is situated next to an electrical outlet, so you’re never out of battery (important to other students for their laptops and powerpoint presentations, important to you because you have an unhealthy obsession with passing time on TikTok, scrolling past video after video of ASMR girls clicking their twenty-inch long acrylics with their crazy candyland designs), and this makes you feel at ease.

A month ago, you finally came clean to yourself and, soon after, to your friends, and they came to understand, albeit begrudgingly and with no small amount of amusement, what made this Starbucks unbeatable in your eyes; it had one thing no other coffee shop could lay claim to.

What you know of Mark Lee is accrued from two major sources: long, surreptitious glances in the Modern World History class you share, and irritatingly brief interactions when you place your order from the other side of the counter behind which he stands, long fingers always poised to punch in your order at the speed of light. Sometimes, those encounters get cut even shorter when irate upperclassmen start prattling their orders out before you can even say anything past your own, except even this has its own consolation prize — an apologetic smile at you that seems only for you, although you’re not sure how much of this assumption is true. You’ll just believe it as you feel it.

And what you’ve learned about Mark Lee has funneled down into two key points for you: first, he is single, a fact you were clued into when a group of his friends came to the coffee shop and sat around the table next to you. You hadn’t been eavesdropping; they’d just been pretty loud, but you’d also perked your ears the moment the one everyone seemed to call “Hyuck” — you aren’t sure if it’s his full name or a nickname, and you don’t particularly care — had leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper about having a vague master plan to set Mark up with an old high school friend’s younger sister that he was just waiting to spring on said Mark, busy slaving away on their six impossible orders near the espresso machine.

You don’t really know what became of that plan, nor if anyone had telepathically been on your side to outright call it crazy (someone should have had a better reason than you, anyway) since the next moment, Hyuck’s voice becomes significantly louder when it orders the one named Jisung to collect the completed coffee and snacks waiting for them on the counter. However, you feel safe in the assumption that even if it had happened, no repercussions had followed, seeing as Mark still presently comes and goes from his shifts alone and in no clear hurry to meet any cute girls that are sisters of high school friends of his friends. Or, maybe you’re just ignoring what could be truth, but that’s whatever.

Second, you’ve learned that Mark Lee should not actually be your type — at least, in theory.

Saying you’re out of his league would be a bit juvenile, but if you had only so many words to describe the situation, you’d say so under duress. It isn’t so much that he’s beneath you in any way, but your interests and general social circles run different routes. Yours tend to be more classically patterned after constantly changing trends, and the people you interact with all seem to have similar goals; you like to call it ‘vibe networking,’ which, from experience, involves connecting with both groups and individuals that are equally aware that they will benefit in some way from any resulting acquaintanceship — whether it be by climbing the social ladder a couple of rungs or being able to call in a quick, off-the-charts favor for something very important and/or very exclusive down the road. You and your friends spend a significant amount of time in a year watching your style and image, something quite a lot of kids in the first couple of years of college tend to do, which means that while you don’t particularly like to spend your time following your grade trajectory, you do have quite a lot of pseudo-friends that all seem to offer something entertaining or helpful to you.

Mark, on the contrast, prefers to keep his circle very close to his heart, it seems — that which acts as a receptacle for all his interests. You can tell that he likes to be up to date less with trending movies and more with comic books, a separate beast of a world that’s rather unknown to you. More than once, you’ve overheard him chat with his friends about Spider-man Issue Number Whatever-It-Is or engage in somewhat lively (sometimes rowdy, thanks to the Hyuck fellow) discussions about some webtoon you’ve come to understand is called Solo Leveling, which seems to have to do with monsters and hunters — two things you know next to nothing about. You’ve also never seen Mark holding anything remotely close to a magazine; his hands are always filled with either a freshly opened comic or a beat-up textbook. Maybe once or twice, you’ve seen him on his phone, but when you peeked over (surreptitiously, of course) on those occasions, you were met only with brightly colored panels and a singular word: BAM.

In conclusion — you and Mark Lee live very different lives, likely never truly meant to intersect.

And yet, you want him — not even in a way that speaks only to your curiosity, but in a manner that feels slightly delusional. More than once, you’ve found yourself having to shut your jaw close after realizing you’ve been watching him steam milk with your mouth slightly agape. Maybe it’s his side profile, which gives you a great view of the way his jaw tenses every time he puts whipped cream on someone’s frappuccino. Maybe it’s his eyes, which always seem to twinkle like he’s harboring some special secret every time someone in line asks for his recommendation on how to spice their order up. Maybe it’s his hands, steady and agile, with just the right showing of veins through the skin to tell you they’ve probably got significant strength to them too. Or maybe it’s just his mind — that thing he always manages to show off in class, working faster than lightning even when the rest of you are in your natural eight-in-the-morning stupor.

Whatever the reason for your interest, Mark Lee makes sure the Liberal Arts building’s Starbucks has you as a regular customer.

You’re fully aware that this is the twenty-first century, which is why you could, as Yeji and Jisu have so kindly made known, simply ask him out. Under normal circumstances, you would have.

Unfortunately, in this particular area of your life, separate from all others, you’re something of a traditionalist.

Actually, you just want to know what Mark asking you out would look like. Curiosity has fully gotten the better of you — how can it not, with how he breaks eye contact with you the moment it happens by accident in class, or with how pleasantly and shyly he smiles when you say ‘hey’ to him once you’re about to order? You’d like to see, first-hand, as a recipient of the experience itself, what he would look like taking control of a particular situation like that — something someone like him, so mild-mannered and laid-back, never really seemed to do upfront.

You’d like to think you’ve given him clear signs. There’s a reason you always come in during his shift times, and it’s the same reason for why you have the same damn drink from the menu over and over again despite not even caring too much about coffee in the first place (something he admittedly doesn’t know and probably wouldn’t puzzle out, given how often you’re in that Starbucks, anyway). It’s that you want him to remember you.

Selfishly, it’s that you want him to think just a little bit more about you every single day.

But if he does, Mark has never made it very clearly known; apart from taking your order in his genial customer service demeanor or letting a look of brief recognition pass his face over when you cross paths in the hallways, he’s never really shown heightened inquisitiveness about you. For all your differences, only you seem to actually care.

Frankly, that frustrates you, because if you have to think about him unhealthily, it would only be right for him to do that for your sake too. Still, you’ll shrug that hit on your pride off for as long as you can get his attention one way or another.

All you really need is for your plan to pan out as well as you think — and hope — it will.

The thing is, you’re not even that bad at math. You’ve never really excelled at it, of course, but you wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re in dire need of help from anyone — the kind of help that feels like babysitting, at least.

However, Mark Lee doesn’t know that, and you’re not compelled to make that fact known to him when you notice that he’s leaning on the counter with his elbows, shoulders rolled forward and head bent down. He’s twirling his ballpoint in hand, wrist hovering over a worksheet, and you’re briefly distracted by the rapidly moving shadow underneath it.

His head snaps up when you gently knock on the counter, and the rest of his body follows suit, straightening as he shoves the paper away, one edge crumpling in on itself as it meets resistance in the form of the pastry display glass.

“Hey — hi, _________.” He knows your name, says it easily, and while you’d like to believe it’s because of his unprecedented interest in you, you know that it’s just because you’re always here and always having him write your name on the side of your cup. “Can I get you the usual?”

There’s no particular reason you order what you do; maybe it’s just rooted in the fact that when you first asked Mark for a recommendation, he said that the Vanilla Sweet Cream Cold Brew was pretty good, and you were inclined to believe him (while pointedly ignoring the fact that it was, at the time, a new item all of the baristas were required to push to indecisive, slightly moony-eyed customers such as yourself). Whatever the case, you found the drink generally palatable, and you were also able to score the first of many smiles that fed into your two-semester-long infatuation with him, so it was basically a win-win scenario for all. He even got to do his job by getting some rube (see: you) into trying a new product.

“Hey, Mark.” You’ve long since given up pretending that you don’t know his name and have to check the tag on his cute green apron (why is it cute? You don’t know. It’s the same, standard, Starbucks green, but Mark makes it look homely and natural, somehow). You’ve been here way too many times over the last academic year for a nonchalant, were you talking to me? approach to work, anyway. “That, plus a lemon loaf, if you don’t mind. What’ve you got there?”

His eyes follow the trail of yours over to his wrinkled worksheet. “Oh — no, sorry. It’s nothing.”

“Is it secret?” Your bottom lip juts out, and you see his Adam’s apple bob dangerously, a small telltale sign of minute nervousness before he lets out a short laugh. “Didn’t know we kept stuff from each other.”

You don’t know what makes you say that so naturally. The both of you don’t do much beyond exchanging pleasantries.

“We — uh, well, it’s just a worksheet. For Park Hyosung’s class. College algebra?”

“I’m in Kim Junghwa’s. Can I have a look? I want to know if you’re suffering just as much as I am.”

He pauses, considering your request for a moment, likely wondering if there’s any harm in it before he smooths the paper out and turns it towards you. His handwriting’s a little messy, but his solutions are extremely neat. You see, like, one erasure, max. You also don’t see anything that interests you — except the name written at the top. Still, you can see at a general glance that more than half of his answers are correct; the logic of his organization is way too elegant and his writing’s too sure to be anything else. You whistle low, and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Something wrong?”

“Pretty much the opposite. How is it that you’re doing this without breaking a sweat?”

“Oh, well — it’s not…” He doesn’t even know how to brag. Yet another item in the perpetually growing list of things you find cute about Mark Lee. “I mean, anyone… can?”

“I must not be anyone then.” You meet his quizzical look with a wry smile. “Either you guys are leaps and bounds ahead, or I’m really not going to make it through this semester.”

Another silence passes, just for a fraction of a second — short enough to be passable to others, but long enough for you to wonder if your humor code isn’t up to par with the rest of the world’s — before Mark’s chuckling lowly. His large palm comes down, covering a majority of his answers in the process.

“You’re kidding. I’m sure you’re doing just fine.”

“Mark, look at this face.” You gesture to your evidently dumbfounded, blank expression. “Does this look like the face of someone that’s doing just fine?”

You’re pleased to hear another laugh from him; you don’t know if he really finds you funny or if he’s just the type to be easily amused. You don’t want to know, anyway; assuming is better than actually finding out.

“That bad, huh?” He slides the worksheet away again, like he’s afraid his correct answers are going to offend you into leaving the cafe. Instead, his hands start working on your order, grabbing a cup and scrawling the shorthand of the drink on one of the little boxes. “Ever think about getting a tutor, maybe? If you really feel like you’re drowning, that is.”

“A tutor? I guess that depends. Are you free on weeknights?”

The marker makes a soft screeching sound as he drags it down with too much force, ruining the penmanship of your name. Mark takes a moment to stare at the mistake on the plastic before he looks at you, pointing the rim of the cup towards himself. “Sorry — am I free—?”

“You said I should get a tutor, right?”

“I thought — no, sorry, I was thinking more like one of those department-assigned tutors you can ask the faculty for, or something.”

“Oh. Are you not one of them?” You sigh, albeit a little over dramatically. Thankfully, he doesn’t really cotton onto your acting, too caught up in befuddlement at the turn of the conversation. “That’s a bummer. I was kinda hoping that if I was going to ask for help, I’d get an actual genius. You know — someone like you?”

You can tell by Mark’s expression that he’s torn between denying your compliment again and responding to your actual question; he looks both relieved and miffed when the student behind you clears her throat.

“Sorry, but— you know that there’s a line, right?”

You both apologize, Mark’s much more sincere than your own, and you step aside. His gaze follows you for a moment before it snaps back to the next customer, his voice abandoning that bemused uncertainty it had taken up with you. You don’t really mind; as far as you’re concerned, any dent in his barista persona when he talks to you is a step in the right direction.

You hang around the pick-up area, receipt in hand, watching Mark clear the line before moving to the actual stations near the kitchen area. There’s a concentration on his face that you find all the more attractive; he has a habit of chewing on his bottom lip when he’s trying to focus on getting the drizzle just right inside the cup’s cylinder.

He tends to try his best at everything, you figure. Not an unattractive quality — not by a long shot.

Mark finishes your drink first; the milk’s still only seeping, cloudy, into the coffee when he brings it over. He doesn’t even have to call your queue number, opting to meet your eye — albeit slightly nervously — instead. You reach out to hold the cup, a calculated move that allows you to brush hands against his without him being able to pull back on instinct. He doesn’t, nor does he really seem to want to, but his jaw tightens as a flush creeps along the curve of his ears.

“You really won’t help me?”

Your question’s abrupt, almost a little demanding, even if your voice is sweet. You’re not above asking this much, anyway, even if you technically want him to make the first move. The redness sinks down to his earlobes.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t really say anything,” you tease. The cup’s on the counter now, so he can easily relinquish it to you at this point, but he still hesitates, only one hand slipping out from under the heat of your palm. He uses it to rub the back of his neck, chuckling softly, and you take this as a green light. “What time does your shift end?”

“Five-thirty. You sure you wouldn’t want someone better?”

You pull your cup slowly to yourself, and his hand, still lightly trapped by your own, follows for a few inches before he’s withdrawing, the counter between the two of you forcing the distance. A smile follows the shaking of your head, and you take a small sip of the drink before you respond simply.

“There’s no one better than you.”

Mark is a prompt kind of person; you learn this when, at five-thirty, he comes over to your table, tugging his apron off over his head. Of course, you might attribute that to his overall personality, but the fact that you spend the remaining two hours of his shift casting him glances from the left side of the coffee shop might have also been a contributing factor. The looks you give him aren’t even furtive; they’re deliberately long, so you never miss whenever he looks over to you from time to time.

He doesn’t hold eye contact for very long (he does it well enough when he’s talking to customers, but it’s not like you’re ordering another cold brew from across the room at that point), but you can read snippets of his thoughts through the fleeting gaze exchanges. He’s curious as to why you’re asking for help, now, of all times, when the semester’s more than halfway over. He’s surprised that you asked him, of all people, because he just can’t conceive of a world that isn’t within a television show where this kind of abrupt, overt request makes sense. He’s flattered that you even asked him out of the blue. He’s equal parts anxious and eager to know what’s meant to happen after his shift, once he starts fulfilling your request.

Most of all, he’s unsure if he’s reading you right — if what it feels like you’re doing is something he’s attaching too deep a meaning to. If he’s right in reading your signs.

You don’t really mind it; you like knowing that Mark somehow wears his heart on his sleeve, even if he tries to remain neutral for the sake of appearances. You also bask quietly in the fact that he’s looking at you twice as much as he ever has in the time you’ve loosely known each other. Still, his bubbling confusion and inquisitiveness seem to be interfering with the rest of his work, especially when you notice that he’s been wiping down the surface of a table two down from where you are for more than seven minutes.

In the hopes of easing whatever tension might be in his heart, you offer him a small smile, but that’s only met with his eyes immediately glazing over and inching a couple of centimeters above your forehead, where the story of Starbucks’ origins is drawn out in a faux-manga style. He pretends to find it interesting, as if he hasn’t seen it a million times from coming into this establishment day after day — you know it well enough, and you don’t even have to, considering you don’t work here — and you can’t do anything but hold back your laughter.

A small part of you says you should just give him the affirmative answer to his biggest question, but every other cell in your body says that it’s no fun if he doesn’t ascertain it for himself.

He has his school bag and textbook in tow when he approaches, taking the seat across from you. There’s a steely resolution on his face, like he’s been emotionally preparing himself for such a daunting task, but it eases up the moment you laugh lightly.

“You don’t have to act like I’m going to eat you.”

“I’m still not sure why you’re suddenly asking me to help you,” he admits. He’s also very honest, you note. Again, not an unattractive trait. “I’m not complaining. I just didn’t think you even had an opinion of me.”

“Why’s that?” You’re genuinely surprised. Mark drums his fingers on the front of his textbook, thoughtful — less for the sake of thinking what to say and more for the sake of considering how to say it. It’s clear he wants to avoid calling attention to the fact that before now, you two have had no reason to run the same track, let alone sit together and talk at a coffee shop, as if you’ve always been the best of friends.

“Genuinely just thought I was the guy who gave you your afternoon coffee every day,” he finally settles. Your eyes widen, and another laugh escapes you — a little louder this time, enough to call the attention of a couple of jumpy freshmen nearby.

“Well — let me put it this way.” You lean over slightly, cupping your chin in your palm. “Was I just the girl you made coffee for every day until now?”

There are clear cogs turning in his head; his eyes unfocus slightly as he thinks of the possibilities. His silence suddenly makes you somewhat nervous; your tone had been confident, and you’d only said that to prove a point, to push him in the right direction, but you realize that you hadn’t previously factored in the possibility that he might simply say yes — or, worse, say no just to avoid hurting your feelings.

You watch his lower lip curl in; he uses his tongue to smooth out the skin that’s slightly dried from work fatigue. You would much rather it peeked out, so you could imagine it against your own. His response is mumbled in a lower register, but you catch some key syllables — didn’t… not … stranger — pretty … you?

“Sorry?” You ask patiently, but the fact that he turns red and laughs again — something you realize is not only a trademark of his personality but also downright delicious of him to be doing — is all the answer you need to let the apprehension seep from your shoulders. “I didn’t catch that.”

Mark clears his throat. “No, I… didn’t think of you that way. I mean… you’re my classmate.”

“Sure,” your tone’s breezy, but the somewhat sloppy confirmation of interest in you makes your heart soar. He just needs more of a push. “And we’re basically friends, right?”

“Yeah.” His voice is unsure at first, like he can’t seem to wrap his head around the concept. You can tell that Mark’s notion of friendship is likely based on shared interests, of which you admittedly have none. Technically, if you were his friend, you’d spend less time just telling him the exact same order every single day and more time sitting around a table trying to learn how to play Magic: The Gathering with him. Still, he takes one long look at your grin and suddenly gains confidence in his next words, as if it somehow convinces him that the briefness of your old conversations had been a mutually agreed-upon thing and not the product of social distance between the two of you. “Yeah. We’re friends.”

“Right. Friends help friends, don’t they? I’d definitely feel more comfortable having a friend teach me than some stuffy upperclassman I don’t know.”

You see Mark’s lips move slightly, in such small movements you could have imagined it as breathing if you didn’t care too much (which you do). He mouths, to himself — friends help friends. For some reason, that boosts his conviction even further, and he nods.

“Makes sense. Well — for as long as you don’t mind me, then.”

“Mind? I asked you, so I should be saying that.”

“I’d never mind — I mean, of course I don’t mind.” He’s quick to correct himself, and you have to stop your own hand from reaching out to try to satisfy your curiosity, the desire to know just how hot his cheeks get when he blushes. “More than happy to help, actually.”

“And I’m more than happy to be here.” You beam at him, and he mirrors your smile. You don’t know what it is about the look on his face — the brightness in his eyes, or the slight lift of his eyebrows, maybe — but it gives you the impression that he might be feeling at least a fraction of what you are: the feeling of your heart lifting off a few inches from your rib cage. “Since we’re on the same page, I hope — should we get to it?”

From the moment that Mark opens his textbook to a chapter on inverted parabolas, he assumes a personality you feel you haven’t seen from him before. You realize that you really do know him in only two limited capacities — his classroom persona that seems to really only view himself and the material, focused on the board and the professor’s words (even up until the useless anecdotes) to absorb as much information as possible, and his more genial customer service form, always happy to assist in the trained, easygoing way you’ve come to meet so often.

Right now, he’s a blend of both, yet somehow neither all at once. He’s quick to catch the parabolas you draw, either wrongly or downright poorly. Despite initial hesitation, he always manages to say something; there’s already a pattern to how he does it, from his slightly awkward, “Ah, sorry, actually —” to the way his finger traces over what you’ve written, outlining the right curve. You find his interruptions so endearing that you start drawing them wrong purposefully — not enough for him to realize your schemes in their entirety, but enough to cast you a few amused glances, like he can’t imagine why you’d map out such an absurd graph. You get the feeling he wants to actually laugh at how ridiculous you’re acting, but he can’t tell if you’re seriously struggling or not, so he settles for a smile he thinks he does well in keeping to himself, but that you catch anyway. He’s patient, even when you have to rip out pages from the back of his notebook because of your ‘mistakes,’ like he’s still catering to your request for an extra pump of syrup for your coffee on sleepy days.

But there’s also that side to him that comes out when he suddenly remembers the distance between you that, before today, had felt unlikely to be closed. It peaks at odd moments, like when you’re borrowing his pen because yours is currently holding your slowly unraveling bun up, and your fingers brush against his. It surfaces abruptly when you lean in to watch what he’s drawing until he realizes how close you are, arm lightly grazing his, and his pen freezes, ink blotting on the paper for a second. It’s in those times that you can almost hear his brain churning out questions — like he’s wondering if you’re just oblivious or if you’re doing something on purpose that he can’t quite believe. Like he wants to ask you what’s on your mind, but he just doesn’t know how.

If he asked, you would reply without missing a beat. The answer, after all, is simple (him). But Mark never raises the question, only does something without fully acknowledging what he’s doing — the adjustment of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the ruffling of his hair as though to shake off his thoughts, the clearing of his throat to normalize his tone before he explains something you’ve just asked about. There’s always that light tinge of pink to his face that makes him look even more endearing, and it fades and returns every so often for the better part of two hours.

By the time he rubs oncoming fatigue out of his eyes, the sun has already set; there are far fewer people around you at this time, and for as much as you like spending time with him and breathing in the scent of his shirt — always a tinge of Downy, barely cutting through the much more overpowering scent of espresso and sugar — your back has begun hurting from your front-heavy posture and determination to have your face as close as rationally possible to Mark’s. Still, you don’t miss out on the fact that the act of him cracking his neck to relieve tension makes your lips curl inward, trying to stifle an inappropriate noise in reaction to the view.

“I feel like I talked your ear off,” he pipes up, sounding a bit sheepish. “Sometimes it’s hard to know when to stop once you’ve gotten started. I’m just hoping I didn’t bore you to death.”

“Meanwhile, I’m here hoping you aren’t sick of my questions already.” You smile, closing your notebook and hanging the clip of your pen on the spiral. Your arms stretch up first, followed by your back, a light twist to relax your posture into normalcy again. Mark’s breathing falls quiet, like he’d been preparing to say something in response but had let it die in the back of his throat instead. You let your eyes drop, expecting to see him looking at you, as he mostly has been — on and off — since his shift ended, but his eyes are far lower than yours, the telltale redness now growing in evident splotches across his cheeks.

The hem of your shirt has ridden up; while there’s nothing outrageous about it, there’s a short expanse of skin that it reveals, for a brief moment. His eyes are slightly glossy, brow furrowed like he’s trying to find a solution to something he can’t fully understand. You’re not even sure about what he could really be looking at, or if there’s something he’s just thinking of that caught his attention while his eyes focused on a rather unfortunate spot. To test your theory, you suck in your stomach slightly alongside an inhale.

It should be objectively funny to watch Mark blink unevenly, left eye going first before his right tries to catch up, but you manage to stifle your laughter — poorly, though, because you end up coughing a little and breaking him out of his strange trance. You avert your eyes quickly enough for him to look vaguely relieved that you hadn’t caught him looking. So he thinks, at least.

“Anyway.” You feel bad that you have to tear his mind away from whatever faraway land it must be trying to burrow a hole in; the dazed expression on his face dims into hastily hidden embarrassment. You don’t want him to feel awkward, so you just busy yourself with packing up, making an unnecessary show of stuffing your notebook back into your bag as if it isn’t half-empty at this point. “I really appreciate you taking the time to help me.”

“Any time.” His first attempt is a little raspy, maybe from overuse of his voice today, so he clears his throat and tries again. A slow smile builds on your lips. “Any time, really. I’m glad that this is actually helping you; you pick things up surprisingly fast.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Give it a couple of weeks, and you’ll probably be ready to tackle it on your own again, I’m sure.”

He smiles reassuringly, but all you can think about is how that’s not good. You should pretend to be a little dumber next time, or this will end much too prematurely.

The next five minutes pass in silence; you don’t expect to be knee-deep in conversation anyway since, as much as you try to convince him, you aren’t actually anywhere close to being those kinds of friends yet. There’s an unspoken rule to the give and take of things, where he pauses for you to get an item off the table and push it into your bag before he does the same with his own belongings. Neither of you really intersect paths, save for the moment you both grab your phones and stand at the same time.

His jaw falls open like he’s preparing to say something, then shuts as if he’s better decided against it. You decide to take the initiative to say what you’re assuming he wants to. “Same time, same table?”

“Oh — uh, yeah, for sure.”

You want to ask him to walk out with you. You want to lace your fingers with his, tug him out, and kiss him under the green and white glow of the sign outside. You want to know if kissing his collarbone means you’ll taste a hint of coffee. You think about doing it all somehow, especially since he’s fighting back a slight smile at the promise of tomorrow.

But it just isn’t the right time.

Instead, you place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. The slow movement of his throat — yet another hard swallow — isn’t lost on you, and his eyes land on where the two of you connect. With a grateful smile, you bid him a soft goodbye, taking your leave first.

You don’t look back — at least, not until you’re fully in the cover of the darkness outside. On the gravel path, just out of reach of the lamplight, you chance one last glance back into the store. Mark is still rooted to the same spot, his backpack slung over one shoulder, staring at the table like he’s dissociating from what just happened — like he can’t believe the last couple of hours.

Your smile grows when you see his own, and his hand comes around to the back of his neck, rubbing it lightly like it gives him small comfort to let him know that it was real.

Baby steps, you remind yourself. You’ve already got one foot in the door, after all.

As the days trickle by, you fall into a more comfortable standing with Mark; there’s a routine to your meetings that seems to eliminate the initial and abrupt awkwardness of that first day. You come into that Starbucks at four, greet Mark, who doesn’t ever have to ask for your order, and spend the next hour and a half slowly sipping on it until the ice has thinned and watered down your drink substantially. In that time, you allow yourself to do whatever you want (as if you’ve ever done otherwise anyway), and what you usually want the most is a good view of him. You therefore use most of the minutes you have on hand to regard him from different angles — from the side when he’s frothing milk, upfront when he turns to leave cups on the pick-up counter, from the back when he’s clearing tables — interspersed with moments of checking your TikTok feed, clearing group chat messages, and sometimes re-curling your bangs with a portable iron from the school’s co-op center, a relatively new purchase you tote around these days. You do essentially anything in between to avoid acting too suspicious while he works.

Sometimes, you catch Mark’s eye too; the more your meetings increase in number over the course of a few weeks, the more deliberately he looks over at you, and the longer it lasts. You feel like you’ve made significant progress when your gazes lock and he smiles slightly, albeit a bit unsurely, instead of turning away like he used to. The other day, he’d even passed by while apologizing for how long you always waited for him — not that you ever minded, something you made a point to clarify with him before he walked away, carrying a couple of chairs from the back room with him to replace rickety ones.

That he’s able to transport them easily, as if he’s lugging a bag of apples from the grocery, does not escape your watchful eye.

What you like the most is that you start to learn more about him in a way that isn’t fueled only by your expectations and, therefore, limited by your imagination. You find out that he’s from a close-knit family with a rather cushy background, and this barista job is just for interest funding and experience, in that exact order. Most of his earnings are funneled into the things he collects, which apparently isn’t limited to comic books and special edition blu-rays with director’s cut but also a rather stupendous amount of PopMart blind box figurines. Apparently, he particularly likes the Skullpanda series even if he hasn’t completed it yet; your last session together had adjourned thirty minutes earlier than usual so that he could catch a pre-rush hour inner circle train to Hongdae, where the flagship store was set to open on that day. He’d promised to show you his pulls (as long as they weren’t embarrassing dupes). You learn that he likes to listen to loud music when he studies to stimulate his mind, and he has a playlist that’s just a jumble of songs from Punk Goes Pop volumes that makes him feel empowered for some absurd reason, like he’s going against the grain. You don’t really get it, but you do like that spiced-up rendition of Ariana Grande’s Problem that he let you listen to once.

Of course, there are things that you find out not through conversation but through continued, closer observation. You notice that he likes to put on chapstick even if his lips aren’t particularly dry, but he does worry on them often, most especially when he’s thinking hard about something. He has a habit of saying honestly… at the start of every other sentence, as if he’s concerned you won’t take his word on anything, even though he’s just talking about how unnaturally hot it was at noon despite it still being spring. He has long eyelashes that you’re equal parts attracted to and jealous of, and he bites the inside of his cheek whenever he wants to pep himself up after grueling shifts. He plays beats you’re not even sure he knows he’s creating against his knee with his fingers, so enthusiastic and consistent in this habit that you want to offer your thigh instead. His shoulders always go first before he laughs, and he does this thing where he raises his hand to cover his mouth at the start of it, which is a shame, because you’d do anything to keep seeing him smile like that — or, better yet, to be the reason for it.

Then there are those things you notice he tries to hide. He always turns his face halfway to the side when he blushes, something he seems to do without fail every time you smile at him. He has to temper the intensity of his grin when you take the time to compliment him on how cool his shirt is, or how nice his hair looks today, or how smart he is, like he doesn’t want you to know how good it makes him feel even if you want him to feel good about it, around you, because of you. Sometimes he denies it for the sake of responding, and his voice always lilts on the first syllable in his refusal to accept what you say, even though he knows you won’t take it for an answer.

And after a couple more careful experiments, you notice that Mark, out of the many things he’s interested in, seems to have a particular thing for your stomach.

You don’t know if it has anything to do with him not really seeing much of it in real life in his own time or if he just has his own kind of fixation on it, but you start to cotton on by the fourth time you meet. An hour of being hunched over a table that’s not at the greatest height in relation to your neck and torso has you stiff, and you’d leaned back in your chair, arms pulling to the air, hoping your spine might feel like realigning if you exerted enough tension pressure that way. Your shirt hadn’t ridden up this time, considering it had been tucked into your jeans, and it was because of this that you’d caught a flicker of something new in his face that you hadn’t seen before.

You could have sworn it looked like disappointment.

Of course, he hides it quickly, as he does with most of his emotional candor, but it’s enough to make you suspicious — enough to make you wonder if Mark is also just keeping something to himself. Or maybe you’re just projecting your own presently secretive nature onto him. Regardless, you think it’s odd that whenever you stand up or stretch, his eyes almost immediately fall to your midriff, like he wants to challenge your clothing into a staring contest before he thinks better of it.

You don’t mind, anyway. He can look as much as he likes. Maybe when the weather’s warmer, you’ll even cater to that interest and wear a crop top. Hopefully, that’ll be the push he needs to act on human instinct and ask you out or, like… bend you over. Maybe.

You’re often plagued with these kinds of thoughts in between the ones you try to keep as family-friendly as possible — now, more so than ever.

Sometimes, it’s easier, especially when you’re caught up in talks with him; despite the fact that he doesn’t seem like much of a conversationalist when it comes to generic matters, when either he or you are enthusiastic about a particular topic, he has a tendency to get carried away. There’s nothing impure about how his eyes light up when you remember to ask him about the movie he saw with his friends over the weekend or the way he hums old Nickelodeon cartoon theme songs under his breath whenever he’s looking for a page in the textbook. It’s more of a situation where you’ll observe something and immediately run with it despite it being an objectively normal action.

Like right now, as you’re watching him turn his pen between his fingers. Now, while he’s shaking his knee in mild impatience, as if he’s trying to will the answer to the worksheets you’ve both been trying to get through for the better part of the day faster. You’d made copies of the problems your professors had assigned and exchanged them under the premise of being able to practice more intensely.

However, whereas Mark is actually focused on solving, you’re just watching him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he’s ever been told that his fingers are fuck-worthy on a singular, unique level or if it’d feel good for you to ride the thigh he’s currently moving, jeans and all. You consider the feeling of his warm palms on your bare waist as you do it, and you end up wondering if that’s what crosses his mind whenever he sneaks glances at you, too.

You’d know the answer to all those things if he’d fucking ask you out. Maybe you could do it after all. Maybe you should, instead of relying on slowly increasing the probability over such a long period of time. Maybe if you asked nicely, Mark might pull the shades down on the storefront windows and rail you against the glass.

You’re so lost in thought that it genuinely startles you when he plops his textbook over the worksheet, rattling your eraser dangerously close to the edge of the table. You’re still clutching your heart while he rubs his eyes a little too violently.

“Can’t,” he groans, and his neck gives into the weight of his head, allowing it to loll backward. “I feel like the numbers are just melting into each other. I swear, I thought I could read words out of them.”

“Maybe we were a little too ambitious with the double worksheet agenda,” you admit, even though you’ve barely gotten past half of yours and certainly haven’t touched a single item on his. “Should we call it a day for now?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, although he still takes the time to encircle his final answers before clapping his palms to his cheeks (an act that has your mind dangerously close to wandering off inappropriately again) to wake himself up. “Woah. I didn’t even notice how dark it is already. I’d say time flies when you’re having fun, but I’m not too sure about the ‘fun’ part of it…”

You trace his gaze towards the glass; the moon’s already out, surrounded by a smattering of low-light stars. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, probably because your mind had been on R-18 mode for most of the afternoon. Also, the days are getting generally shorter, but that fact doesn’t make you feel as embarrassed, at least.

“You got a ride?”

The question once again shocks you out of your small trance, and you turn back to him with wide eyes. “Well — no. Wait, I didn’t know you had a car. Why’d you take the subway, then?”

“Oh — no, sorry, I… don’t.” He looks suddenly sheepish, eyes dropping to the shiny surface of the table for a moment before they snap back up, as if he’s actually actively reminding himself to look at you. “I was wondering if you wanted me to — actually, more than that, are you going home already? Not that you need to stay; it’s not that important, but…”

You try to gloss over the fact that he had just been about to initiate another huge step in the right direction (i.e. offering to walk you home) by beaming at him, maybe a little too widely, if only to mask your disappointment at the sudden shift in conversation. “I have nothing waiting at home for me but a sandwich dinner and Singles Inferno, so hit me with whatever it is.”

“Oh, cool.” His lips turn up, and the corners shake, this show of happiness once again tamped down by his own inexplicable desire to maintain a safe distance. How are you supposed to tell him you’re desperate to bridge that gap without using those exact words? “I came from the flagship store yesterday — the one in Hongdae that I told you about?” He allows the smile to widen slightly when you nod in genuine understanding. “Got the last six boxes of the collection I’ve been trying to finish.”

You whistle appreciatively. “Can I ask you for a loan on my next phone bill? You know, once I’ve upgraded to something pricier.”

“Nah — just itching to complete the set,” he laughs. You wonder if he’s been doing that more often because he knows its crippling effect on you, though you doubt he’s that sly. Again, maybe you’re just projecting too much of your own motivations onto him. “This was probably about two months of saving up combined.”

“No new Iron Man issues to look out for, then?” Your voice is warm even though it takes on a teasing tone; Mark’s hand rubs the back of his neck, and his expression is a little sheepish, but you’re happy that the times he used to go completely quiet, opting only to blush at your attempts to act more familiar with him are pretty much gone now.

“Maybe next month.” You also like that he doesn’t really treat his hobbies as secrets, neither out of shame nor snobbishness. He explains these things to you the same way he does the topics you study — with an air of contentedness, like he’s happy someone listens to him without interrupting. On your end, you have no qualms with listening to his voice for hours, wondering when he’ll stop using it to greet you when you come through the door and when he’ll start saying your name in a way that makes you feel like you’re the only one he sees whenever you’re near. It’s a win-win situation (sort of). “I was actually debating between this collection and a really rare copy of Spi— well, never mind that. I just thought — since you were asking me a bit about blind boxes last time. You know, if you wanted to. With… me.”

As much as he’s become comfortable talking to you about things that don’t involve coffee orders and school, you can’t say that you aren’t doing your fair share of the work in connecting the dots; the demand for your efforts is exponentially higher in moments like this, when you think he’s trying to ask you something but can’t seem to find less-than-eager words to avoid what he thinks might spook you.

Luckily, he augments his fragments with action; reaching into his backpack — which you notice seems to be bulkier than usual — he starts extracting small brown boxes, all with the same design; it seems, for lack of better words, aesthetically gothic, and you reach out to pick one up, turning it over and examining the print on each side with vague interest. Mark starts laying them out on top of each other until there’s a small, somewhat unstable pyramid in front of him, then shifts his attention fully to you, just as you’re putting the box in your hand atop all the rest.

“I’d love to.” You beam as he does, and there’s a wondrous relief in his eyes that tells you he’s glad you manage to catch onto his words — or lack, thereof — surprisingly well. “For as long as you don’t blame me for any bad draws.”

“The contents have already been decided by my own hand — sort of,” he chuckles. “Point is, I would never do that to you. But I won’t lie; I kind of want to rely on your luck a little more.”

“What makes you think I’d have any of that running through my system?”

“Not sure — beginner’s luck, maybe? You just kind of look like one of those kinds of people to me — like… you’re just made of good things.”

You don’t know how to take this compliment; on the one hand, it’s easily one of the sweetest things Mark has ever said to you that doesn’t involve anything with actual sugar content. On the other, you know you’re not as lucky as he makes it sound, considering you’re still striking out on getting past the borderline of friendship with him. All you can do is smile, nodding and making to move closer to him by sliding into the next seat.

It’s hard to ignore the sight of him stiffening; something like surprise mingled with both fear and interest flashes strong across his face, but you don’t do anything to acknowledge the slight change in atmosphere, choosing to settle down comfortably and clap your hands. “So. What are the rules? What can I do, and what can’t I?”

“Uh.” His throat constricts at the right moment, the syllable getting caught and causing him to clear his throat. You know that this is the nearest you’ve ever been to him, the sleeve of your shirt tickling his arm. Upon closer, albeit brief inspection, you note that he’s also rather veiny. That doesn’t do your impurity any favors. “Not… really rules, or anything like that. Just — these are the ones I’ve been looking for. Not that you can really control it, but in case you were curious about that.”

You squint intently at the scaled-down images he points out. There’s one that looks like a penguin caught in an oil spill; another that seems to be in a polar bear costume, dozing; and — “What’s… halo? Halo…bios?”

“It just means marine life,” he answers quickly, like the thought means close to nothing to him to know something that obscure. Whoever said that smart is the new sexy wasn’t joking. “Like… all things that live in the ocean, that kind of thing.”

“And you know this because?”

He pauses, looking thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I guess I must have just learned it when I was curious about what it meant some time ago. Isn’t that how we all learn things?”

You shake your head incredulously, and he smiles a little apologetically. “You never cease to amaze me.” Your nail drums against the silhouette of one with a question mark on it. “What’s this supposed to be? Can you draw your own figurine, or something?”

“No.” He’s clearly amused, but his expression’s still patronizing enough for you to not feel too bad about saying something idiotic. “It’s a secret design — a money drainer, basically. You could buy a full set of this and still not get it. Some people will open hundreds without any luck, so it’s really rare.”

“You don’t want it?”

“I try not to get too caught up in the secret thing,” he admits. “Otherwise…”

“No rare print comic books for the rest of your life, basically?”

He taps his nose, and you both share another laugh. It’s nice, you think, to have come this far — to be someone Mark can share his interests and thoughts with. You may have been stretching the word to its limit when you first punched your way into his social life and called yourself his friend, but it feels more real now, more natural to think about and say. Even if he still sometimes seems to be hyperaware of the gap between the both of you, there’s no denying, at least, that it’s been significantly reduced, and this much is a testament to that.

“Well, leave it up to me. I’ll let all of this beginner’s luck rub off on you,” you announce with overflowing albeit unfounded confidence.

You both decide to open a box each at the same time; Mark suddenly panics and asks you not to unseal the foil bag right away without looking at the card inside first, earning him one slightly alarmed look followed by a burst of laughter at his pained expression when you pretend to rip open the packaging. Comparing pulls, you identify them using the set chart — your luck doesn’t seem to be operating at full capacity yet because you can only offer him the card of one that looks like a floppy pigeon, which he responds to with a slightly apologetic grimace before saying he’s already pulled that thrice in the past. He, on the other hand, is turning the card of the polar bear over in his palm, trying not to make you feel bad for your duplicate pull by slipping it under his textbook when your eyes land on it.

The second round isn’t much better; both of you manage to pull something he’s already added to his collection, and as you’re ripping the seal to your third box, he pauses and watches you. You think it’s because he’s concerned about the obvious shit luck you’ve had thus far and wants to snatch it from you before your negative energy transfigures whatever’s inside into something he doesn’t want, and you’re just about to offer the half-opened package to him before he pushes the one on his end to you.

“No way, Mark.” Your eyes are wide, a palm up to reject it. “If that turns out to be another dupe by my hand, I’m literally going to walk into oncoming traffic.”

He has to control his amusement at your words so that it doesn��t completely shake his voice into incoherence. “I picked all of these while I was there, so if anything, you’re only riding off my bad luck. Besides, this is your first time doing this. I want you to have fun.”

“But,” your voice is pained. “Your money.”

“It’s not a big deal. With how few I need to complete them, I was definitely bound to run into more repeats than new ones.” He taps the front of the textbook — or, at least, the part of it not buried under the figurines and sealing tapes yet. “Probability mathematics.”

“I thought we already ended the study part of the day,” you grumble but concede, putting aside the one you half-opened to tear the top of his. You’re careful when you shake out the foil packaging, making sure to place it upright on the table before extracting the card. Both of your faces fall — yours more than his — when you see it’s a repeat of the polar bear.

“Almost. It would’ve been a pretty lucky pull earlier, so it’s technically not bad,” he tries to reassure you, but you childishly feel like you’ve been the sole source of his disappointment thus far. “Try the last one.”

It’s irrational, but you’re suddenly anxious about it. For some reason, you’re worried that this will topple the carefully constructed ladder you’ve propped up against Mark’s tower of social defense. Even if he’s being genial about your rotten pulls, you don’t know how much of it is just resignation to dismay on his part.

You say a small prayer, then fully rip off the seal; you don’t even take out the packaged figuring anymore. You just shimmy the card out of the box, turning it over when you notice it’s upside down.

For a moment, your shoulders deflate. It’s closest to this pastel purple figurine in the middle of the line-up, its stupid puckered lips almost taunting you. He hadn’t even mentioned it as something he’s looking for, so you almost feel like this has come to a horrible full circle. But then he grabs the box, checks the list, and looks back at your card again. He looks shell-shocked, and you’re not sure if it’s the strong air conditioning directed towards the two of you or if it’s just his hands, but the image he’s holding is shivering slightly.

You look more closely at it, and something just doesn’t feel right. Color palette aside, there are notable differences — different colored lips, a more intricate ear design, and closed eyes. It’s…

“Dream eater,” Mark’s voice is hushed, almost reverent, and very, very close to your ear. “It’s the secret one. You’re… incredible.”

“What are you talking about,” your words are just as raspy; you’re not sure if you’re actually choked up with emotion or something — over a figurine, you have to remind yourself. “You picked all of this. I just ripped open the box.”

The hush that falls over the both of you feels very concrete, weighty on your shoulders. His fingers creep towards the foil packet — the only one he actually opens because there’s no way he’s not keeping it. The shiny purple head gleams under the fluorescent, the glitter around the star and moon designs catching the light as he turns it left to right, like he’s worried it’s a fake. You can tell why people want these things so much; there’s a thrill in you that lingers, makes you feel warm and alert. It’s anticipation, despair, excitement, and triumph all in one sitting.

You’re stroking the smooth curve of the design by the ears lightly when Mark speaks up again and says the most outrageous thing.

“I want you to have it.”

“What?” You actually have to pop your ear canal in front of him with your pinky to make sure he knows how ludicrous he sounds. “This is… you said it was crazy rare.”

“Yeah. And you pulled it, with your magic. That’s like… unimaginable luck. Even more than beginner’s luck.”

“Like I said, I literally just opened the box.”

“No — you have like… the golden touch.”

“Please,” you hiss, a genuine testiness to your voice. “Do not. I was just here for the ride — the experience, and all.”

“Seriously, take it.”

“Absolutely not—”

It’s a chaotic moment of him trying to hand you the figurine and you outright rejecting it, with both your palms working hard to push it back to him. Instead of nudging the plastic back, though, you end up placing the full force of your hands against his fingers.

There’s no actual spark when you touch, but your reactions make it feel like there might as well have been; you even lock eyes in startled unison, like you can’t believe that just happened, before you pull away quickly, Mark drawing the figuring back to his torso while looking away towards the counter, where a lowerclassman is wiping down the stains. You want to scream at your warped reflection in the window. You barely initiate contact with him, but you imagine that if you ever did, you would prefer to not be saying something as abjectly negative as absolutely not while doing so.

Your mind flails in an attempt to mitigate the issue and water down the embarrassment, and clearly he’s struggling to figure it out too, because he pipes up before you can piece your thoughts together.

“No, really.” His tone is a lot milder and, consequently, a lot more persuasive this way. “You should take it. I want you to.”

“It’s not mine. This is your thing — your hobby.”

“That’s why I’m giving it to you. I swear — I want you to keep it.”

“Why?”

He lapses into silence again, but his face is much redder than earlier. His mouth opens in an attempt to say something, but he just manages to uh his way back into a state of quiet, which gives you a chance to speak instead.

“We can… share it,” you suggest. “Shared custody…. ish.”

His eyebrow cocks involuntarily, and his jaw falls again, but all he does in actual response is nod — slowly at first, then with more sureness to the act.

“Yeah. We can share it. I’d… like that.”

You’re glad that the bulk of the awkwardness has fizzled out fairly easily, and when you think about it, this feels like a pretty good course of action; you like that it’s this little link between the two of you now — something you share that no one else can touch.

Mark, you notice, is smiling as well — more to himself than towards you, it seems. His thumb grazes across the face of the figurine, slow across the lips, and you’re once again falling into a pit of nonsense by wondering when he’d do that to you.

“Thanks for staying with me, _________,” he finally says, and your heart jolts and melts all at once. “And for… doing this. For chatting with me. And giving me your luck, and all that. Great way to end the day… with you.”

You say no problem, but you instantly regret it when you realize you could have just said it didn’t have to end just yet.

“__________? Hello? Come back down to Earth?”

“Shut up,” you sigh at the guy seated across you — Seo Youngho, an upperclassman, your Gender Studies classmate, and current project partner, waves in front of your face. You shoo his hand away, which only joins his other one as he throws them in defeat above his head. “Stop moving. Be quiet. Don’t talk.”

“That’s the same thing as shut up and be quiet. What’s up with you?” He demands. “Fifteen minutes ago, you were full of ideas. Now I feel like I’m talking to a wax figure.”

You’d been engrossed in your report for the last hour and a half, and the subject matter is admittedly something you enjoy — the role of gender in Twenty-First Century Korean marketing and advertisement, a title Youngho had taken more than ten minutes to type into the Google Docs header because he was pissed off at how the numbers looked like in the fonts he chose. He’s an enthusiastic classmate and someone you’ve come to be friendly with, not only because he’s genuinely approachable but also because he has fits of nosiness and talkativeness at the strangest moments, so a chunk of your relationship is mostly based on social terrorism on his part. You like him well enough most of the time — save for the last fifteen minutes of this hour.

Because Mark had just come in for his shift fifteen minutes ago, and suddenly Youngho is much too noisy for your taste, and his head is honestly way too big to the point that it gets in the way of your opportunities to see Mark behind the counter. You even resent him for choosing a booth instead of your usual table all of a sudden, because your view of the central barista’s area is much more limited from this angle, especially since the huge espresso machine is in the of your field of vision.

You’re also (currently and abruptly) mad at Youngho because you remember that he’s the reason you’ve had to skip out on a couple of sessions with Mark. Like, it technically isn’t his fault that you have a lot of research to do for the literature review section of the paper, nor is it his fault that this is your final requirement that comprises a whopping forty percent of your grade, but like… you’ll blame him anyway. So you’re much more irritable, and you’ve definitely been missing Mark’s presence. In fact, you kind of just want to shove Youngho’s balloon head away and call Mark over to sit with you, but you’re not that much of an animal to actually do that.

Probably.

There had been inquisitiveness across Mark’s face when he’d come in; his eyes had trailed to the table at which you usually sat, surprised to find two guys hunched over a single phone there instead of the usual you, waiting for him with your eyes bright and your smile wide. You’d like to think it’s because he’s gotten as used to seeing you as you’re used to waiting to see him — like he just expects you to be there.

You hadn’t really known how to call his attention to where you were, especially since Youngho was prattling very matter-of-factly about the academic journal he’d unearthed yesterday and how he thought it would be useful in reshaping the methodology of your paper (whatever). There was a moment in which you briefly considered ordering another cup of coffee just to get in line to talk to him, but your hands were already shaking from the venti you’d had to keep yourself from passing out in front of your partner.

So you’re more than relieved when, half an hour into his shift, Mark finally steps out from behind the huge machine, a mug of water for himself in hand, and turns away from the front of the store to drink it — only for your eyes to lock as he twists his torso in your general direction.

The mug stops just inches from his lips, but you could swear he smiles at you briefly when he recognizes you, so you return the favor. Youngho’s face contorts into abject befuddlement, turning around to see what you’re grinning at.

“Oh, you poor sap,” he snorts, finally letting the puzzle pieces fall into place.

“What?” You’re still distracted even if Mark has taken a gulp of water and is now attending to a gaggle of girls still in the throes of discussing what to order.

“What what? You gonna spend the rest of the day eyefucking Mark Lee from over here? At least let me get a different table.”

“Shut up,” you repeat sullenly, coming back down to his level and finally — albeit reluctantly — meeting his eye (just because Mark isn’t looking your way). “What were you saying about the sample size?”

“That it’s much too large to be feasible, a point we closed twenty fucking minutes ago,” he says pointedly. “Is it a thing for baristas or a thing for smart guys?”

“It’s a thing for Mark Lee,” you sigh, following Youngho’s suit and shutting your laptop close. You’re at least glad he’s not annoyed that you’re delaying work for a crush, or maybe he’s also just equally lazy at this point. “You ever look at someone and think you would give it all up for a chance to hit that?”

“No, because this isn’t a porn movie, and I’m clearly not the main character in whatever’s going on in there.” He jabs at your forehead; you swat his hand away again.

“Well, I would.”

He rolls his eyes. “So do it, dumbass.” He says this so simply, like he can’t imagine why you’d be holding yourself back, which is a valid thing to feel, except it’s not really any of his business.

“Can’t.”

“Because?”

“Because it doesn’t fit into my elegant master plan. Also because I want him to ask me out. I just want that victory.”

“Oh yeah, there it is.” Youngho leans over, wiggling his fingers at your ears like he’s greeting a next-door neighbor. “Hey, delusion. Good to see you. Do you even understand how crazy it is that you’re taking a Gender Studies class while waiting for your dick-in-shining-armor like a damsel in distress?”

“Asshole,” you grumble, violently opening your laptop monitor again. “Get back on Google Drive.”

Thankfully, Youngho complies, and the next two hours pass in relative silence and productivity, with you hammering out a vague references list that he promises to format in your stead so you can ‘spend more time dreaming about Mark Lee between your legs.’ You want to strangle him, but there are far too many people in the cafe for you to get away with it. Also, aforementioned Mark Lee would only be a witness to your criminal record, and while you think there’s something romantic in killing for love, or whatever, you’re not sure it’d make the best impression on him.

“Next week’s my birthday,” Youngho announces as he stands to tug on his jacket.

“Congratulations,” you say wryly, peeking over his bulletin board torso to see Mark tugging off his apron and picking up his school bag. Your heart hammers in your chest as he looks over at you briefly, and something like embarrassment passes over his face before he busies himself with neatly folding the fabric. “Go away.”

“Usually people look uncomfortable for not knowing and then start thinking about what gifts to get the celebrant, but I always felt you were kind of a revolutionary.” He snaps his fingers right in front of your eyes, and you look up at him, a little offended. “I’m having a get-together — and by get-together, I mean it’s gonna be a rager. You should come.”

“When?”

“Next Thursday.”

“Can’t,” you chew on your lip, wondering if Mark is leaving. His movements seem particularly slow, but you wonder if he’s just taking his sweet time because he has nothing better to do. Of course, he would have something better to do if Youngho stopped fucking obscuring you from him and vice versa. “Busy. School… whatever.” Not completely untrue. Most of what you do with Mark has to do with school.

“This moony-eyed thing is just not for you, I fear.”

“Are you going to be here all day?”

“Are you? Why don’t you just fucking ask him out, you lunatic?” You can’t imagine why he sounds so exasperated. It’s not like this is his problem — or his business, for that matter. “Maybe if you did, you could fuck him and move on with your life and be an actual contributor to society’s development.”

“Has anyone ever told you how nosy you are?”

“Constantly.” He brings his palms down on the table, the thud shaking you out of another oncoming stupor. “Think about it. Maybe it’ll make you stop making that stupid face.”

“You’ve got a stupid face,” you mumble, sulking as he pinches your cheek as a goodbye before heading out of the shop.

At least you finally get to see Mark in full, glorious view — and you get to watch him come closer, although his stride is somewhat cautious.

“Hey.” Even his voice sounds unsure — almost like the way he used to sound earlier in your friendship. “I didn’t want to interrupt you and… your friend?”

“Oh. Well, you wouldn’t have been interrupting,” you inform him, completely genuine. “He was spouting a lot of nonsense.”

“You guys seemed pretty close.”

“I guess it’s a proximity thing,” you sigh, and Mark raises his eyebrows slightly in question. “We’re partners.”

“Oh.” The way he draws out the syllable is slow. “That definitely makes sense.”

The silence stretches out between the two of you again, with Mark checking his shoelaces. You almost grab your head; it hadn’t occurred to you until now how damaging missing meetings with him would be to your friendship. You feel like you’re slowly being dragged back to square one, and you want to give him an explanation.

“He’s actually… I haven’t been able to see you because I’ve been working on something with him.” you offer, trying to answer a question he didn’t even ask. “Sorry about that. I swear I’ll be back on track tomorrow.”

“No, no — I completely understand.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Thank you… for telling me, though. I— uh, appreciate that.”

“I’d love to see you tomorrow, though.” You try injecting more pep into your voice. “I’ve really been behind on my algebra. I’ve definitely been drowning without you.”

“Oh, yeah.” A small smile graces his lips, but you can’t tell if the reluctance behind it is from fatigue or something that looks oddly like sadness. “I’m down for tomorrow. Same time, same table, right?”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Cool. See you, _________.”

You watch him turn on his heel, walking to the front door, and something like fear mingled with desperation clutches your heart. Fuck the traditional route, you think. You don’t know what it is about how he’s acting now, but it’s making you feel like he’s slipping through your fingers. All that hard work — there’s no way you’re letting him go.

“Mark, wait.”

You’re at his side, fingers curled into the sleeve of his jacket before you can figure out exactly what you want to say. You feel as surprised as he looks at your sudden liveliness in action, and his gaze trails from your clenched fist to your face slowly, like he’s trying to memorize this whole position.

Your exhale’s shaky, but even still, you try not to sound overtly self-conscious when you ask, “Do you like Chinese food?”

Something in the furrowing of his brows tells you he can’t seem to see where this conversation is headed, and that slightly bothers him. “I like it well enough. Why?”

“There’s this really good dim sum buffet near my mom’s office. We tried it before — the Xiaolongbao is awesome.”

“Hey, that sounds pretty cool. I love Xiaolongbao. I’ll definitely have to check it out then.”

You want to tear your hair out. “How about — you know, checking it out with me? Tonight? You know… together. With me.” You already fucking said that.

You’ve never seen Mark blink this rapidly; he looks like he’s trying to crunch large numbers in his head. A small part of you actually worries that he’s malfunctioning, but just when you think he’s going to glitch out completely, he clears his throat. It bothers you how uncomfortable he looks. “Tonight? Oh man… it’s my cousin’s birthday tonight. I can’t… reschedule. Well, obviously. Maybe some other… time?”

Your ‘oh, yeah’ is small, and so is the ghost of Mark’s smile. You can’t help but feel like he’s pitying you a little, although he doesn’t seem like the type, but the thought of it alone makes you want to puke. He makes no motion to move, and you think he’s extending this awkward moment out on purpose until you realize you’re still hanging onto him and he has no way of telling you to let go nicely.

Fingers unfurling from his sleeve, you take a careful step back, but when he walks away, it feels like you’ve gone much, much further away.

The worst part is that you can’t even figure out why.

Luckily, the next few times you see Mark, you manage to rebuild a rather shaky bridge back to where you had been. You even manage to strong-arm him into sharing an apple fritter one afternoon, and you know it’s a bit sad to think about it a particular, untrue way, but you can’t help but pattern what you’re doing into some kind of pseudo-date. Pathetic isn’t a word you normally associate yourself with, but you’ve been borderline desperate for progress where there seems to be none, so you take small victories where you can get them.

Unfortunately, you haven’t been able to revisit your stupid dim sum plan; sometimes, he says he has somewhere important to be, but most of the time, it’s actually your fault. No — it’s Youngho’s fault, because he keeps bothering you to finish the project. You’re aware that he can’t do it himself, but since he’s informed of your current plight, he could at least stand to be more sympathetic.

And you hate the way Mark looks every time you splutter out that you have to take a rain check for that reason; it’s not even disappointment, or something, which would be much more understandable. It’s this mysterious kind of faraway look, where his eyes glaze over a bit and he seems suddenly very lost in thought — or completely dissociated. He never strays away from his normal response of “next time, then,” but that ‘next time’ fades into the weekend and into the start of next week, and you have to spend every other evening with an annoying Seo fucking Youngho on a Google Meets call instead of eating soup dumplings loveshot style with Mark Lee.

Thursday night rolls around, and the former performs the most irritating stunt yet: blowing up your phone with so many KakaoTalk messages that it almost buzzes off the table during your session with Mark. Luckily, he seems to have learned a thing or two from his comic books, catching it before it hits the floor.

“You sure you don’t want to answer it?” He asks, gingerly handing the phone to you like he’s afraid it’s going to explode from all the pinging.

“Without the shadow of a doubt,” you sigh, flipping the screen downwards. Buzz.

“It kind of seems important. Or, like… urgent.”

“He’ll live. Unfortunately.”

Mark falls silent, fiddling with the page he’s on. He’s neatly highlighted the formulas on the page with blue ink, and his finger keeps scratching at the slightly wet paper. Buzz.

“Didn’t you say you two were partners?”

“Yes. Also unfortunately.” Youngho is actually a great person, but you kind of hate how Mark’s paying more attention to his texts than to you right now. “What did you get for number ten?” Buzz.

“A hundred and twe— are you really just going to let it keep ringing like that? What if he’s… I don’t know. In trouble? Like, he needs you?”

You smack your phone on its back, hoping that the punishment reaches Youngho because he absolutely is in trouble — only with you. “He’s just making a racket because it’s his birthday and he probably wants a bunch of people to trash his parents’ house, or something.”

“Sounds like fun.” The dubious tone in Mark’s voice indicates that his idea of fun definitely isn’t that. Buzz.

“Not really, but I assume he’ll only pipe down if he manages to get his way.”

“He must really want you there.”

There it is again — that weird, distant expression that makes you feel like he’s trying to free himself from the tethers of the earth. You close your textbook in defeat; it wasn’t even like you got the answer to number ten correct anyway. Buzz.

“He just wants everyone there, I bet. But I probably should show up so he shuts up.”

“Oh — yeah, okay. We’ll call it a day, then?” He’s avoiding your eye as he starts packing his things, which is actually impressive because you have practically nothing but your book to keep in comparison to his pencils and protractor, so you just stare, willing him to look at you.

You want to know what’s going on in his head. You want to know what’s going on in his heart — what he thinks of you, why he seems warm one second then almost like a stranger the next. You want to know if he knows you like him and if him not doing anything even if he knows is a sign that he doesn’t like you back. You want to know if he’d let you kiss him, if he’d kiss you first, if you can meet not because of sweet cream cold brews or algebra but because you just want to be together.

You just don’t know how to ask. For as much as you like him, for as much as you want him, you haven’t figured out the most basic part of this — if you mean anything more than a two hour talk to him at all.

“Mark.” This feels awfully like the dim sum conversation, only somehow ten times more disastrous. “Come with me.”

“Sorry?” The appalled look on his face makes you squirm in your seat.

“I don’t really want to go, but maybe if we go together… we can just hang out a bit and leave once it’s boring… I think it’d be fun,” you explain lamely, deciding at the last second to drop the with you that had originally come with your sentiment.

“I don’t think your… partner will like someone uninvited showing up.”

“I’m inviting you.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“You’d be, like, my saving grace or something — my excuse to scram. We’ll say we came right from a study session; we only popped in halfway through for the sake of greeting him a happy birthday. Then we can just go. We can say — uh, we’ve got more work to do.” You’re practically begging him at this point, and you don’t even get why. You just don’t want him to leave looking the way he does — confused and a little detached. You want the Mark that had smiled at you while giving you your coffee — the one that had kindly pointed out an arithmetic mistake in the most gentle way possible. You want to open blind boxes with him, whine about your rotten luck, and part ways with his warmth still against your coat sleeve.

You don’t know what comes over you then, but you pluck up the courage and initiative to slip your hand in his. He stiffens a little, but you don’t care; your fingers squeeze his in urging.

Something in his expression breaks — cracks first, then falls away, before he’s nodding, still looking vaguely thoughtful.

“If you think it’ll help you, then… okay.”

The bus ride to Youngho’s neighborhood is uneventful because it’s quiet. You stand close to Mark at all times, but you barely touch, save for the times your knuckles accidentally brush his when you lurch forward slightly as the vehicle comes to a dangerously abrupt stop. He doesn’t ask anything about the party or the company that’ll populate it, which is just as well, because you don’t have a clue.

You know it’s the right house because the door’s wide open and there’s music coming from inside; you can’t make out much more than the deep bass pumping through the concrete, but you’re pretty sure it’s making your heart jump in your chest even more than it already is. There are quite a few people you vaguely recognize on the lawn, and even more that you absolutely don’t; a good number of them glance at you and Mark as you step through the threshold then look away, probably deciding you’re of no real consequence or harm to their moods.

Youngho’s easily spottable because of his massive height; he towers over the rest of his guests, and the red plastic cup in his hand calls even more attention because he’s lifted it over everyone else’s heads. You throw Mark an apologetic glance that he responds to with a short nod before you dive into the crowd alone, trying to weave your way to where you’d last seen Youngho.

“Bro, finally!” Youngho greets you, pretty much shouting over the music. “Where’s the gift? Did you leave it on the table?”

“Happy birthday, Youngho. Do you know how close you were to being blocked?”

“I see you brought mister espresso with you,” he ignores your comment completely, nodding to Mark. When you turn back to see him, you notice he’s squishing his arms closer to his sides, trying to minimize the space he takes up. “So what? Y’all get to hook up already?”

“No. I brought him here because we were in the middle of something and someone,” you stop, offering him a pointed look that’s also ignored. “Wouldn’t stop texting.”

“Cockblock,” the guy next to Youngho, who you now realize has been eavesdropping, singsongs. “Oh, sorry. You looked angry when you stomped through the crowd, so I wanted the juicy details. Name’s Jaehyun.”

You take the hand he offers you briefly, introducing yourself. When you say your name, realization dawns on his face, and he jabs his forefinger at you.

“Oh, dude. You’re that girl — the Starbucks Showstopper.”

“The what?”

“That’s what his friends call you.” He scratches his ear, seemingly racking his brain for more information. “I’m with Mark and a couple of his friends — Lee Donghyuck and Na Jaemin — in College Algebra.”

You completely gloss over the fact that you’ve finally found out the real government identity of the mysterious figure named ‘Hyuck.’ “They… talk about me?”

“From time to time. Not really. Once or twice. Donghyuck only calls you that because Mark apparently keeps blowing them off to hang out with you.”

“How do you know this?”

“I have ears. It’s not hard when they talk like no one’s around.”

You shush Youngho’s exclamation of and you’re saying I’m nosy?, your heart hammering hard in your ears, practically drowning out the music. “What… what else did they talk about?”

“Not sure. Something about not seeing you that often these days. Jaemin teasing Mark about getting dropped now that you don’t need his help anymore. Donghyuck piling on and saying you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Jaehyun still inches away from you when your voice rises in pitch and decibel. Some people around you start, then move away as well, as if scared you’re going to incinerate them. “They were just teasing him that you probably ditched him after you started dating someone. Your partner in some project, or what.”

“Oh gross.” The realization hits you like a speeding truck. Youngho’s expression is affronted.

“First of all, you bitch. Second of all, as if I would date someone who didn’t even buy me a gift. Or want to come. Or yelled at me after coming. Wow — now that I think about it, you’re terrible, _________.”

“Oh, shit; that someone was you?” The only person that isn’t tense in this conversation is Jaehyun, who laughs point blank at Youngho’s sour face. “I think they were offering to put you into one of their Death Note notebooks. Sucks for you, hotshot.”

“What a smudge on my good name,” Youngho sighs mournfully. “On my special day, too.”

“I desperately need you two to be quiet for one second. I have to — where’s Mark?”

Even when you stand on your tiptoes, you’re not nearly as tall as the two of them; it’s Youngho, with his freakish height, who manages to spot Mark by the bowl of nachos, looking as though he’s trying to decide if they’re safe for consumption. You hardly excuse yourself; actually, all you say is a distracted “later” that dismisses Jaehyun’s cooing that something’s going down and you should clue him into all the mess later as a thank you. Your appreciation of his sudden and somewhat short-lived presence in your life is still up in the air.

Mark’s busy making a sour face at the sip of punch he’d just taken; he only straightens up when you’re right in front of him, putting his cup down next to the nachos. “Hey. Did you get to find… um…”

“That’s not important.” Your hand bunches the fabric of his jacket in a death grip, something he barely has time to register, let alone question, before you’re tugging him through the throng of people. You want somewhere quiet, somewhere private, and you initially consider the lawn, except you know it’s strewn with cups and has stragglers debating whether to go home or not. You can’t risk any of them being expert eavesdroppers like Jaehyun, so you make a beeline for the stairs instead.

“We’re not leaving yet?” He has to shout over the music, but there’s no resistance in his stride; he follows you up and waits patiently, although a little perplexed, as you check the doors on the second floor. Two are locked, one is a bathroom, and the other is a messy, musk aftershave-scented place you can only presume is Youngho’s room. Talking in front of a sink and a toilet doesn’t feel like it’ll be very productive, so you just drag Mark into the bedroom, kicking aside the crumpled shirt on the floor — which you could’ve sworn you’d seen Youngho wear for class yesterday. “_________, what’s going on?”

“Mark Lee,” you burst out, ignoring the fact that his eyes widen slightly at your tone. “What’s your fucking deal?”

You don’t think you’ve ever sworn in front of him before; that much is evident when he continues to gawk silently, unable to find words to respond to your question. Or maybe it’s just the volume and force with which you demand an answer. The problem is that you don’t even know what kind of reply you want. A small part of you nags that this is uncalled for, especially at this level, with you practically caging him into an unknown room. In fact, even now, you’re still embarrassed at your behavior, wondering if you’ve gone too far and stepped over a line between you.

But the source of all your frustrations is, in fact, that line — one so strangely drawn, clear at some points and almost invisible at others. Sometimes, he seems simply content with the barest minimum of friendship: talking to you, helping you, politely laughing at your (terrible) jokes. But there are also times he blushes too hard for it to not mean anything, times that he makes you feel like you could mean a little something more to him too.

Yet, from there, he wavers, stepping back so as not to get entangled in something you don’t understand — like when he grows distant every time you mention Youngho to him. You don’t understand why he would unless he echoed, even just a little, the longing in you. But you also don’t get why he stays and builds more walls around himself, like he’s determined to ignore all the other signs — like he doesn’t want to know if it’s really true and will just accept the assumption that it is. You hate not knowing where you stand with him, and while you could easily ask, you know you don’t want to.

And for a long time, you’ve convinced yourself that it’s because you want to see Mark step out of his comfort zone and initiate something, but the ugly truth is staring at you: it’s simply just that you can’t stand the idea of seeing him come to the conclusion that you can’t be anything more to him than someone he makes a sweet cream cold brew for every so often.

There’s a moment of tense silence between you two, where you’re just staring at each other — him, perplexed, and you, agitated — and the only sound that passes is the faint but unmistakable voice of Youngho going who has the cake cutting knife? from somewhere down below. You try not to get caught up in the fact that Mark still looks cute when he’s dumbfounded.

“Sorry?”

“What,” you repeat pointedly. “Is your deal? Why have you been acting so weirdly around me these days? I thought — I thought we were… getting closer. I thought… we…”

You’ve confirmed it now; you’re the epitome of cowardliness. You can’t even say I thought we liked each other — because you know that you do, but you still can’t honestly, assuredly tell if he does. Maybe you just read too deeply into the smallest things — smiles before he asks for your order, glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking, sharing the dream eater figurine — to fuel your own emotions without really checking the depth of his.

“I thought we were cool,” you reroute your words, and they come out flat and lame. “But just when I think you’re warming up to me, you suddenly pull away. Like… you’re afraid of me. Or you don’t like me. I don’t know.”

“It’s not — I don’t — I’m not afraid of you,” he stumbles over his words, and even in the darkness of this space, you see his face turn bright red, very quickly. His feet shuffle, not because he’s lost his balance but because he seems to want to get rid of a sudden restlessness. “I do like you. We are — we were getting — we’re close. We — we’re friends. You said that, and we are.”

“Is it only because I say we are that you agree?”

“What? No, I—” His hand passes over his face, slowing at the curve of his chin. “I really like being friends with you. I like being around you.”

“Then why do you act so weird these days? Like — you’ll be fine one moment, then you’ll back off, like you suddenly remembered you don’t want to be around me.”

“It’s not like that. I’m — I don’t get…” He takes a deep inhale, recalibrating himself for a moment before his voice comes out again, less strained this time. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

“How could I?” There’s something more than confusion coloring your voice; there’s hurt, too, and he looks as surprised as you feel at hearing it. “I wanted to be your friend. I was the one that asked you to hang out. I was the one who wanted you to talk to me, to help me, to go to a goddamn dim sum place with me. Why would I feel uncomfortable? Or are you just using this as some roundabout way to say you feel uncomfortable?”

Mark falls silent, and you don’t know why this speaks volumes all of a sudden. His eyes are trained to the tips of his sneakers, which are rising in soft bumps every few seconds; he’s curling his toes inside them. You feel like you’ve gotten the worst answer possible, and something grows cold in your chest.

“You feel uncomfortable around me.” You rehash, but it’s no longer a question. “You don’t know how to get rid of me.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“You think I’m only using you.”

“No.”

“Then what?” Your voice breaks, no longer out of anger, but a desperate sadness. The moment your eyes feel hot and prickly, you decide you want to end the conversation. It’s embarrassing, you think, for someone like Mark Lee — whom you like, who only ever sees you as a friend — to see you get choked up at a fucking birthday party at someone else’s house.

A beat later, you’re mumbling a half-hearted forget it, and you detest overdramatics, but you hate the idea of being in a room with someone who’ll never return your feelings even more right now; you push past him, already on the thought of calling a cab home instead of taking the bus so that no half-drunk businessmen coming from their company dinners see you crying.

But something warm wraps around your wrist, then closes over your hand, and you’re unable to move, Mark’s palm pressed against the back of yours. When you look back, you notice he’s still not looking at you, but his ears are practically on fire with how red they are, and you feel his fingers tighten slightly, tremble slightly against yours.

“It’s not that. I didn’t ever want you to think — I heard about you two. That you were dating someone. Seo Youngho.”

“What does that matter?” Your words come out a little more bitterly than you expect, and you have to remind yourself to reel it in. “That doesn’t explain your discomfort.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he repeats, still evidently careful in choosing his words. “Because you wanted to be friends.”

“I don’t understand,” you state bluntly. In the back of your mind, you note that Mark’s grip keeps tightening and loosening, unsure of whether to keep holding on or let go. But there’s something else, too — the soft graze of skin against yours, his thumb gliding over your knuckles.

“That was all you said you wanted to be, right?” He waits for a response, but when you don’t give him one, he lets out a shaky breath and continues. “You kept saying — we were friends. You wanted us to be close like that. I just wanted to respect it, even if…”

“Respect what?”

“That you didn’t want… anything else.”

The music downstairs is a bit tamer now; you hear the door opening and closing every so often, signaling guests leaving here and there, but there are still enough footsteps downstairs for you to know that there’s a crowd Youngho hasn’t gotten rid of and therefore has to attend to. That much is good; you’d get slapped with a homicide charge if he came up here all of a sudden.

“You were jealous.”

Mark’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I tried to stop. I don’t have a lot of practice with — well, I didn’t know how to approach the situation. I thought I was still acting normally; I didn’t think… I didn’t want you to feel weird and stop hanging out with me just because… I couldn��t fix it.”

“Your friends are assholes,” you mumble, and he finally meets your eye, equal parts startled and amused. “We aren’t. Weren’t. We never were dating.”

“Even without that, I thought… it was a bit embarrassing. Liking someone like you — someone as pretty as you, as nice as you — I thought it would make you feel weird. Then you’d start avoiding me too. Or, worse, you’d keep doing it just because… you… felt bad for me.”

You don’t know what you find more ridiculous — that you hadn’t seen figured it out or that you could have avoided all of this if you’d just been a little more honest with him too. Mark’s hand starts loosening around yours, a little too much, and you turn your palm and grip his hand before he can escape. He stiffens again, just like earlier, but you now understand better why he does.

“I just wanted to keep hanging out with you as much as I could. I thought… It’d be fine, just spending time with you, and I’d be able to like you for a while, on my own, then…” He looks a little pained. “Then just let you go. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you couldn’t let go?” You sigh softly, your palm guiding his until they connect, face to face, and you can finally lace your fingers into his. There’s no resistance, but his hand trembles slightly in yours still. “If there’s anything you should be apologizing for, it’s that you ever thought of doing it.”

Something clears in the air, lightens in his expression, and he chuckles, albeit a little shyly still. “It’s because I never thought someone like you would like someone like me.”

“I like you.” And it feels right to say it now, not at all out of the blue, never in fear of an answer he’s already given. “I like you when you smile at me every time you ask for my order. I like that you never get impatient when I’m getting my answers wrong. I like seeing you excited when you talk about a new series you’re looking forward to — something new you really want to collect. When you blush, when you laugh loudly, when you spin your pen in your hand — I like you in all those times.”

“Even when I’m jealous?”

“Especially when you are.” Your free hand comes up to cup his jaw, and you’re reminded of the fact that you’ve wanted to feel the strength of the angle under your palm for ages now. It’s not at all a disappointment, and your heart flutters irregularly in knowing you could’ve done this a long time ago, but it doesn’t matter because you’re doing it now, and fuck if Mark Lee doesn’t look good this close to you. “So be jealous — because now, you know you can be.”

Kissing him is better than you imagined, and you’ve imagined a little too much to be embarrassed at this point; there’s a heat to his lips that matches the one across his face, an upturn to them that makes you smile too. The setting’s not at all an expected one, but you’ll take it, not because it’s dark or because it’s private but because Mark’s in here with you, and you would have kissed him in a brightly lit football field full of people for as long as he’d let you.

You’d like to think he’s flushed for a reason other than shyness when you pull away, even if his laugh is quiet and breathy. In fact, when you murmur not enough, he’s the one that closes the gap this time, offering freely what you ask for with such little eloquence. The natural trepidation in his mouth relaxes, gives way to a curiosity that keeps you locked for so long that you forget you need to breathe, much more intent on finding out if Mark’s tongue tastes as good as you’ve imagined for so long.

It doesn’t; it tastes even better.

It’s still not enough, not by a long shot, but you have to resurface before you pass out like this, and even he looks a little dazed when you pull away — not in a bad way, with a grin on his face that you can only classify as endearingly goofy: slightly lopsided and a little shy, but with an unmistakable air of satisfaction.

“Months,” he mumbles, his lips still dangerously close to yours. Your eyebrows rise in questioning, and he laughs in that infectious way that makes you want to join in without even knowing what the punchline is. “I’ve been thinking of kissing you for months.”

And you do share the laughter this time, not out of amusement but of a happiness that spills without restraint. “But you’re suddenly holding back now?”

“Just letting myself bask in the moment, I guess. Letting it sink in so I remember everything.”

The two of you stand there quietly, still trying to fully parse the progression of events, and a small part of your mind registers that Mark’s thumb is still drawing circles on your skin. It’s also not enough — this touch, this closeness. You know now that he’s been thinking of you for months, and it reminds you that you spent that time dreaming of him too. And you remember you’ve always wanted to be even more familiar with him, and suddenly the desire is overwhelming; he’s right here, and you don’t ever want him out of your grasp again.

“Where are you going?” He’s only curious for the sake of it; there’s no alarm in the question because you keep your fingers tightly woven in his, tugging him along as you walk past him to the door. He’s still staring in wonder after the lock clicks shut. “What’s… happening now?”

“You waited months to kiss me, right?” He nods in response at your question. “I’ve been waiting just as long to have you too.”

His mouth falls open, but he doesn’t manage to say anything; his jaw tightens just as quickly when he feels your free hand trail down his chest, feather-light and asking for a green light. Your index finger stops just above his navel and draws back slowly, but not before you feel the shiver that runs down his torso.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you murmur, giving his hand a little squeeze. “But I just want you to know — I want to. I want you.”

A thoughtfulness settles on his face, and his eyes graze over yours, trying to read your seriousness. You don’t know how honest you look, but your words hold enough truth in them. A silence stretches over the next minute, but to you, it feels like an eternity, and you lose the test of patience somewhat, smiling softly at him.

“You don’t want to?”

“I—” His tongue peeks out, running over his bottom lip. “I do. It’s not that I don’t want to, but…”

“You seem worried.”

A hesitant nod. “I’ve never — well, no, I have, but not — with someone like you.”

“What’s someone like me?” You laugh airily.

“Someone pretty like you — I don’t know. Someone who seems to know exactly what they want. Someone who seems like… they could do better than me.”

“Mark.” You can’t keep the incredulity out of your voice. “I do know exactly what I want. I want you. The rest — I don’t care about. As long as it’s you, I want it.”

He cracks a smile, half of relief, half of disbelief. You don’t miss his hand coming up to press, warm, against your waist. “For real?”

Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt — an anchor to bring you closer, until the tips of your noses are brushing. “For real.”

The third time you kiss is slow, almost careful; there’s lingering worry in the line of his mouth that your lips try to ease until his slightly part under the movements of yours. You feel the tension leave his form in waves — first in his shoulders, then in his arms, until you’re able to press yourself closer and feel the slight give of his frame against your smaller one. He’s radiating an immense amount of body heat that’s pricking your skin and keeping you alert, and you’re hyperaware of the smallest things — the weak tremble in his mouth, the slight roughness of his teeth under your tongue, the ridges of his palate above it.

He tastes nothing like what he smells, you learn. Instead of the air of earthy coffee stuck to clean linen, you inhale a combination of spearmint and mild saltiness that’s made slightly sharper by the lingering splash of alcohol from his accidental sip of punch earlier. You decide then and there that this disparity is important to you; it makes you feel like you’re the only one who can have this experience — that everyone else can know his scent, but now, only you can know what Mark Lee tastes like.

You have to keep your wits about you to avoid this addictive stimulation of your senses; you let go of his hand only to lock your fingers around his neck, and there’s a show of trust in how he lets you lead him backwards, until his knees are hitting the edge of the unmade bed. The kiss breaks as he’s forced to settle on the mattress, and he looks up at you in what can only be described as a quiet kind of awe. He doesn’t complain when you place your hands, heavy, on his shoulders, using his sturdy form to keep you stable as you move to straddle his lap.

“I feel like,” his voice is hoarse as he speaks up. “We should have picked a different location. Someone… could walk in.”

“I locked the door,” you remind him, a light reassurance in your voice. He doesn’t say anything immediately, but it’s clear there are cogs turning in his head, and you think it’s unfair that he’s thinking way too hard about something else that isn’t you, right now, in this position. In a bid to rectify this, your face presses into the side of his neck, breathing in that familiar scent and leaving a light kiss on his skin right after. Your lips mark the moment he swallows hard at the contact. “Besides, would you really be that unhappy if someone did?”

His hands tighten against your waist, prompting you to leave another kiss against his collarbone. “What — what do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t like it if someone — say, Youngho — walked in to see me on your lap like this?”

The silence that follows your words is tense, and you can tell that Mark’s breathing has become shallower. Again, you can feel his throat constricting slightly, and you can’t help but laugh breathily as you nip at his skin, just under his Adam’s apple. He’s surprisingly easy to tease, you realize — quick to turn speechless and prone to hanging onto your words.

To say that you wouldn’t want to use that to your advantage would be a downright lie.

“Tell me,” you urge, your tone deceptively gentle. “You wouldn’t want him to see you kissing me like this? To see me wrapped around you, begging for more, saying your name over and over? You don’t want him to watch you take me — so he knows you’re the only one that can?”

A strangled groan punctuates your words, but it comes from him; his fingers dig hard into your side with barely constructed restraint. “What do you want from me, _________?”

“I want to know if kissing me was the only thing you wanted for months.”

You pull your head away, nudging his chin with the tip of your nose. Another groan escapes him, and his head tilts back slightly, almost like he’s praying. But when his gaze comes down to meet yours at your level again, you see a firm resolution in his eyes that stirs your heart — which takes off the moment he shakes his head, slowly but surely.

“Then,” you whisper. “What do you want from me?”

He doesn’t say so much as shows; he takes from you your breath, steals another kiss that’s now firmer and more openly demanding. Suddenly, his mouth can’t seem to stay still, trapping your lower lip in between his, drawing out your taste until it mixes with his against his teeth. You feel your head growing light again, and you’re pleasantly surprised that it’s suddenly become difficult to keep up with his lips, asking more from you without restraint. A hum of need sounds in the back of his throat, vaguely dissatisfied, and he’s telling you wordlessly that it isn’t enough right before he attaches his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar. You think he’s just about to return the favor, but a laugh leaves you when you realize he’s taken it a step further, his teeth grazing your skin lightly, soft nips signaling how eager he is to sink his teeth in with only his slowly weakening self-control stopping him from doing it. Mark’s breathing is slightly labored when he pulls his lips away, warm breath fanning over your chest.

“It’s crazy — and stupid,” he croaks out, voice slightly raspy. “But I want it, and I don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Your fingers drag into his hair, combing it upward messily from his nape. He leans in for a quick kiss that’s somewhat misplaced, landing on the corner of your mouth instead of squarely atop it.

“I want them — him to see us. To see me with you, kissing you — fucking you, too. I want everyone to know we’re like this.”

You’ve never heard Mark say anything so forwardly before; a sweet, warm flush builds in your face, pleased at how comfortably he manages to say it — pleased that he’s saying it to you. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want him to see you.” There’s a bluntness to his words, but hiding behind them is an undertone of pleading — a serious request. “I don’t want him to see how pretty you look. I don’t want him to see you when you’re bare, or how you look when I’m inside you. I don’t want him to see—”

His voice wavers and dies, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed, but when you read his expression, you see an unyielding longing. A smile tugs at your lips, and your hand comes around to cup his chin, thumb extending upwards to drag his lower lip down.

“You don’t want him to see what’s only yours.”

He swallows hard again, but he doesn’t wait long to nod. Understanding passes between the both of you, silently but completely, and Mark presses his face to your throat, feeling the hum resonate as he places another long, firm kiss there.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, in a way that almost feels like he wants to convince himself of something impossible to believe. He doesn’t even wait for your affirmation, prefers to read it in the way you shiver lightly once his lips travel further down. His kisses trail past the collar of your shirt, and his hands are unabashed in how they seek skin, pushing the fabric upward so he can settle the palms of his hands, warm against your waist. Oddly, they don’t travel upwards; they only brush against the dip, down slightly over the upward rise of your hips, then upwards again, almost soothingly. It’s almost like he wants his mouth to meet them, but he stops halfway, sidetracked by the curve of your breasts.

He barely pulls away, only does for a moment, enough to meet your eyes.

“You’re only mine,” he repeats, his voice softer now. You realize he’s still waiting for some confirmation, and when you do, you’re quick to give it to him — quick to erase any doubt.

“I’m yours,” you affirm in the same tone, in the same careful volume. “Only yours, Mark.”

Whatever else he wanted to ask for, he knows you’ve given assent; that much is clear when he buries his face between your tits, inhaling your scent. You briefly wonder if he might feel just as intoxicated around you as you do around him, if your pleasant dizziness in being this close to him, in tasting and smelling him is something he experiences too, but you don’t get much time to dwell on it the moment you feel his lips part, a slight wetness seeping through the fabric. He’s kissing your chest, teeth grazing just above the cup of your bra, nipping without any real objective other than to feel the pad’s slight resistance to his mouth.

You almost miss what he says as he shifts his head, lips brushing over the curve of your breast — another breathless ‘mine’ that isn’t ever punctuated; his lips still stay parted, mouthing at the cloth, like he’s desperate to feel what’s underneath through it. There’s pressure where his tongue presses flush against the shape of your tit, tightness whenever he chooses to nip, attempting to take the flesh and all that’s between you and him between his teeth.

Not enough, you think, even when a whimper of need bubbles out of you; you want to be closer, your thighs pressing against the sides of his. You’re close in almost every way, but you still inch yourself further forward, enough to feel the taut hardness in his jeans. Your hips settle right there, letting fabric ride against fabric as you center yourself.

No sooner do you press yourself flush against him do you gasp; the light sting sends a jolt up your spine when his teeth close around your nipple through your bra, and when you look down at him, you see the corners of his mouth pulled up in evident satisfaction. He’s quick to atone, his tongue dragging your shirt slightly upwards in his attempt to soothe, and for some reason, the push of fabric and the barely-there feeling of motion leaves you tingling.

“Mark.” Your voice comes out in a whine, but in the haze you’re in, you don’t really have a clear idea of what you’re asking for. All you know is that you want more of him, and for as much as he’s already given you in kisses and words, you aren’t even halfway down the list of everything else you wish you could demand from him. You say the only thing that comes to mind — the only thing that really encompasses what you feel. “Mark, I want you. I want more of you.”

His hands on your waist are replaced by the significant tightness of his arms, locked around your torso; you don’t even have the time to take in your awe at the fact that he can easily carry you, turn you over until you’re on your back, until he’s already eased one knee between your legs.

The way he looks down at you is a mixture of hesitation and desire, but the former’s erased when you reach out for him, murmuring another ‘more’ so you can pull him in. With one palm pressed against the mattress, he lets his free hand graze against your side again, bolder in its movements, and his fingers trace a path up to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh through layers. Your back arches upwards in response, eager for more contact, for touch that’s almost there but not quite, and he smiles when you make a noise of frustration from his fingers tweaking the soft nub of your nipple.

“Mark, please—”

“Would you really let him see you like this?” His thumb’s still idly grazing over your breast, following the rise and fall of its curve. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice level despite the growing want that threatens to break through it. “Would you really let him watch you… get fucked?”

You shake your head, and his brow furrows.

“I’d let him watch you fuck me,” you correct him, and the confusion in his face gives way to pure satisfaction the moment you make this nuance clear. “It has to be only you.”

His grip tightens briefly against your breast again, and he leans down, pressing a surprisingly chaste and brief kiss to your lips.

“Then I’ll unlock the door next time and give him a show.”

You don’t know if it’s what he says or what he does after — his hands bunching your shirt upward until the hem’s just below your neckline — that makes your breath hitch, but you decide it doesn’t matter when you realize you’d much rather be focusing on the journey his lips take, slick against your stomach as he presses languid kisses down to your navel. His fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans, the weight naturally pulling them down, and you see his muscles tighten for a moment as he stops himself from tugging them off completely.

Mark’s mouth is unparalleled in its attentiveness, seemingly intent on making sure he’s covered every inch of your stomach in warm kisses, but you only realize he’s somehow stalling when he starts the cycle again, his nails digging into the taut elastic of your jeans as though to remind himself to curb his desire.

You take the initiative instead, raising your hips slightly to signal your want, acutely aware of the fact that you brush lightly against his thigh when you do so. His eyes lift first, followed by the rest of his face, and he’s watching you quietly. You might have thought he was unsure of what to do all of a sudden again, but his knee pressing closer, an unmistakable pressure against you, is enough to tell you that he’s only curious to know what else you’ll do.

The second time you grind against his thigh, his hands catch your hips, keeping them aloft just long enough for him to tug the band of your jeans downward; he peels them off you with surprising ease, returning to the same position between your legs, hands still firm on your waist. With that done, he only has the thin garter of your panties left to curl his fingers into, bunching it into his fists when you roll your hips up one more time. You manage a shaky noise when you feel the stark difference — the roughness of the denim against you, the stick and drag of flimsy cloth. Mark lets out a low but unmistakable hiss.

“I can’t believe—” his idea is cut short by the movement of your hips again, and his grip tightens, knuckles pressing into your skin. “Can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“What am I supposed to do,” you breathe out, the sound momentarily getting stuck in your throat. “So that you know it’s real?”

His fingers relax their hold, palms now pressed against your thighs; they travel between your hips and your knees, a soothing and thoughtful motion. “God — I don’t know. I just want — I just want you so badly. Like… I’m going to go crazy if I don’t have you now.”

You lean up, your weight resting on your elbow, and your other hand reaches out; Mark meets you halfway, bending just a little lower to press his cheek against your palm. There’s something intimate, something so giving about the way he turns his face to your fingers, pressing a fluttering kiss just under your thumb. The tips of your fingers trace the shape of his lips, even when they pucker again under your digits.

“Take me,” you murmur quietly. “Right now — from now on, every part of me is all for you.”

His exhale is shaky, but his fingers have a sureness to them; they slip under your thighs, cradling the backs of your knees, and lifting until they’re folded over your chest. You don’t even have the time to wonder if you should feel exposed all of a sudden; his breath warms the inside of your thigh as he presses his lips there — not a kiss, just a touch as he speaks.

“I want to taste you,” he mumbles, partly distracted with the act of inhaling the mild scent off of your skin. “Every inch of you — I want to know just how sweet you are.”

He lets his hold on your thighs relax, letting them fall apart; he busies his hands with your panties instead, hooking a finger into the strip of cloth just covering you. It’s clear you’re both aware that the fabric sticks light to your skin, poorly masking your wetness, and interest mingled with hunger flashes across his face as he pulls it aside.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, sounding like it’s a comment more for himself than anything else. His gaze flickers to you for a moment before it moves back to your pussy. “The prettiest fucking girl in the world.”

The pressure of his thumb between your folds causes you to forget what you wanted to say, and you know Mark had been nervous, but you realize that it doesn’t mean he’s supremely inexperienced by any means; there’s a quiet, understated confidence in the way he rubs slow, thorough circles, moving upward towards your clit. Your face, your neck, your whole torso feels flushed, but you power through the instinct to tilt your head back so that you can keep watching him — the minute changes in his expression, the slowly building strength in his touch.

“I want to taste you,” he repeats, looking up at you. “I want to know what you taste like when you cum against my mouth.”

You’re not sure if you’re gawking because you can hardly believe Mark Lee — your eternally blushing, mild mannered campus crush — had said all those words strung together into such a lewd sentence, but you’re sure as hell not going to deny him. Your hand travels down your torso, and he watches, curious at first, then awestruck when your index and forefinger settle against either side of your folds, pulling them apart in offering.

His eyes end up transfixed on your pussy again, observing how your fingers ease your folds further apart the more he massages his thumb against your slit. His mouth is slightly agape, intent on drinking in the sight, unaware that you’re trying to memorize this view of him too — Mark Lee, touching you, wanting you, eager to take you fully.

“I’ve always wanted to see what it’d look like with your face between my legs,” you say in a hushed tone, but he catches it anyway, briefly looking up at you again. “I’ve always wanted to know what your tongue would feel like against my pussy.”

Your index finger bumps against the tip of his thumb, and he stops its motions, allowing you to move his digit down until the pad of it hovers just in front of your tiny hole. You can see one cheek tucked between his teeth, bitten to muffle the groan you wish you’d heard louder.

“Won’t you show me?”

You think you hear him rasp out a ‘fuck yes’ before he bends down, pressing his half-open mouth against your pussy. The squeal of delight that leaves you is half-strangled as his thumb curls, hooking into your entrance. It starts a shallow, distracted motion, with his attention funneled much more clearly into keeping his tongue working. Flush against your slit, it drags up, and he releases a guttural noise at your taste, lips pursing slightly on the way back down — like he can’t stand not trapping every drop of wetness with his mouth.

The intensity of his tongue, the idle thrusting of his thumb — you’re not sure what you want to focus on more, and the result is you whimpering incoherently at the starkly contrasting combination of the two. Mark moves his mouth like he’s never tasted anything as good in his life; the sounds between your thighs are wet, sloppy — almost embarrassingly so — but you don’t have the presence of mind to dwell on that because Mark Lee is eating you out and that’s really all that you can think of.

The tip of his tongue suddenly flicks upwards; you keen, long and low, when it starts to circle your clit in that same intense, circular movement his thumb had gotten you used to. Your sensitivity skyrockets, and you’re completely unable to control the upward bucking of your hips, but Mark stays supremely unperturbed, his free arm winding under your thigh to keep the both of you steady. Your noises are growing embarrassingly loud, and you realize just how needy you’ve become when you vaguely notice that there’s a pattern in what you’re saying — his name, over and over again.

“Did you do that too?” He asks softly, his words slightly muffled against you. “Say my name, I mean — when you thought of me.”

“God, yes.” Your voice comes out strained, teetering on the edge of slurring. “So many times — every single fucking time.”

“Promise me something.” He lifts his head, and you see a fieriness in his gaze.

You nod — at this rate, whatever he’d ask you to do, you would without question. “Anything.”

His thumb presses in deeper, up to his knuckle and you reflexively tighten around his digit, but he keeps it anchored there, pushing down against your walls. He drinks in your gasp, the widening of your eyes, the way you chew on your lip with a singular kind of contentment on his face.

“Promise me — from now on, you’ll make sure I’m always there to hear it.”

The only kind of assent you’re able to make is a moan as he dives down again, mouth buried in your warmth, his nose pressed tight against your clit. His tongue moves in strong strokes, broad swipes that push your folds apart further, and his thumb, while not moving, increases in pressure to the point that you feel a heaviness adding to the growing pleasure. Your hands fly down, seeking some kind of sense and reason, and you thread your fingers into his hair, grip tightening as your climax builds in stride.

“Mark, I’m—” close, you want to say, embarrassingly so, but the moment he hears his name, his lips attach to your clit, and there’s suddenly so much more pressure as he sucks, almost like he’s desperate to draw out your orgasm. He chooses this of all time to start moving his thumb again, and this time, his movements are anything but slow and idle; they’re filled with the intent to drive you over the edge. “Fuck me, oh my god—”

“I want to,” he murmurs, pausing for just a moment to drag the tip of his tongue around the nub. “God, I want to. Let me see you cum first; let me taste how sweet you are.”

His thumb stops, buries deep into your pussy, and you’re not sure why this, of all things, is what pushes you beyond control; you’re only half-sure you say his name when your orgasm hits, the rest of your consciousness much too clouded by pleasure. He doesn’t stop, revels in the way you squirm under him as he hums low and keeps his tongue working against your clit. His licks become longer, more thorough as you come down from your high, your cries softening into whimpers as his tongue both attempts to clean you up and makes you messier in the process. His arm is still curled around your thigh, keeping you from inching away from him, even if instinct and stimulation are telling you to.

You’re barely lucid when you sit up, and Mark inches back, somewhat startled; you grab the front of his shirt, and the sight of his mouth, slick and glistening from your wetness, only makes you more curious to know what you taste like on him. You find out how tangy it is, how rich the two of you are together on his lips, and you’re able to fully appreciate the skill of the mouth that kisses you deeply, leaving traces of you against your tongue and teeth.

“Please — fuck me.” It’s the only thing you can say at this rate, only half-coherent and still trembling with desire, but Mark doesn’t seem to care that you’re stuttering over such a simple request. His thumb wipes traces of saliva off the corner of your mouth, kisses it clean for good measure, then straightens up, his hands working at his belt. You almost miss the fact that his hands are shaking slightly as he undoes the buckle and tugs it out from the loops.

You want to help — it’s the least you can do, after all, and your fingers push the button of his jeans out through the hole, his hands working in tandem to tug the zipper down. However, your movements falter when you hear a noise from just outside the room — the sound of the doorknob being jangled, the thud of a body gently hitting the door, as though worried it’s stuck. You glance up at Mark, ready to reassure him, but he either hadn’t heard or doesn’t care because he’s too busy stepping out from the pool of denim at his ankles, and you get completely sidetracked by the bulge straining against his boxers.

You almost ignore Youngho’s voice grumbling ‘Jesus Christ, now of all times? from behind the door, but you leverage it instead.

“Should we let him in?” You ask, tone innocent despite the evident deviousness in your words. It pays off, though; Mark’s cock twitches unmistakably under thin fabric, and he actually looks like he’s considering it. “You’re just about to fuck me, after all. Weren’t we going to — what did you say? Put on a show?”

He worries on his bottom lip, like he’s unsure if you’re serious, but in the end, he shakes his head, reaching out to smooth your hair away from your face and ushering you to lay back down. The lips that meet your forehead are gentle, almost apologetic.

“Not now,” he murmurs against your skin. “Right now, you’re all mine.”

You laugh lightly, nodding, and he chuckles too, but the sound of it slowly dies down when your finger hooks into the garter of his boxers. You can feel his breathing hitch as you tug it down, the elastic catching when it meets the shape of his cock, but you don’t make any move to free it just yet — for some reason, you want to see him do it.

“Show me.”

He complies without hesitation, one hand dragging the elastic down over his thighs, the other curling around the base of his length, and your face flushes as satisfaction works through your system at the bare sight of him.

Mark Lee is big — not monstrously so, but enough for you to make a pleased noise as your hand joins his, fingers barely wrapping around his girth. You give his shaft a gentle squeeze, and his exhale stutters, watching you stroke him, long and thorough in your movements. Your palm swipes over the tip, leaking precum, allowing it to slick up your hand enough to keep your movements smooth. You’re fixated on the tension in his lips, the throb of his cock against your palm, and the way his gaze never leaves your face, like a small, amazed part of him still can’t believe what you’re doing, even if you’re both half-naked already.

“I want to suck you off,” you plead, grip tightening slightly. He grits his teeth, stifling another groan, but he shakes his head clearly enough for you to slow your movements in mild surprise.

“Can’t — not now. I need to be in you so badly.” His breathing’s sharp and heavy, like he’s trying to keep himself in check. “You don’t even know — how long I’ve wanted to feel you.”

Your hold relaxes, and you let him maneuver you, his renewed hold on your hips dragging you closer to the edge of the bed. In this position, he can spread your thighs further, and you angle yourself optimally — enough for him to get a full view of your pussy, wet and still aching from your last orgasm.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to know how tight you are,” he continues, and there’s a faraway look in his eyes that makes you think he might be entrenched in fantasy. “How much I would have killed to see you — have you like this. I’m not gonna be able to wait anymore.”

His fingers dig into your sides, thumbs stroking your stomach in a weak pattern. The underside of his shaft presses against your folds, still half obscured by your panties, in a way that’s heavy enough to make you mewl, your hips reacting before your mind can, and he hisses softly as he feels his length glide along your slit before you relax your stance again.

“I can’t wait,” he reiterates, a breaking in his voice that sounds almost tortured. You don’t want him to either, want to see him buried to the hilt inside you, and you raise your hips again in need. “I want you so much it’s driving me crazy.”

“Then take me.”

And you’re not sure if it’s a demand or a plea, but he no longer stops himself; his hand fists his cock a few times, coating the slick of precum along his length before he lines the tip up with your entrance. His other hand’s flush against the inside of your thigh, a light pressure ensuring he always has enough space to fit himself between your legs — enough space to bottom out completely.

Mark’s considerate in his pace — maybe he knows he’s big, or maybe he’s just naturally careful, but he allows you the time to adjust to the stretch. Your nails almost puncture holes into the sheets, your grip so tight you wonder if it’s just to brace yourself or to hang onto the last threads of your sanity. He’s only halfway in, but you’re pushing fullness already, and he stops when his cock meets slight resistance, looking up at you in concern.

“You’re not—?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” you reassure him softly, and it’s true; the adjustment brings about slight discomfort, but it’s almost nothing to you — not compared to how much more you want. “Give me everything; I want all of you inside me.”

He pauses still, trying to read your expression for any lies, but when he can’t find any, he nods, his jaw tensing as he presses both palms against your thighs, keeping you open as much as possible to accommodate him. He doesn’t even stop when you whimper, feeling a tightening twitch in your pussy that also causes him to groan, until inch by inch, you’ve taken him, his hips flush against yours.

He doesn’t move — not yet, his eyes trained to where you’re connected like he’s once again unable to believe what he’s doing. You hear him mumble something to himself that you want to hear too; you squirm slightly, and he hisses through his teeth, looking up at you and finding the questioning in your face. He offers you a small smile, albeit somewhat strained.

“You’re tighter than I thought.”

“You’re bigger than I thought,” you hum, and neither of you is really to blame; the tight fit, the slight breathlessness it leaves you with, is perfect, you think — just what the both of you need. “Did you often think about fucking me?”

“Probably just as often as you’re making it sound like you thought about having me fuck you, I think.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you warn, but there’s no real heat in your voice.

“I won’t. But it makes me feel good — knowing you wanted me just as bad.”

“I still do.” Your gaze is lazy, a little hazy, even if you’re anticipating so much. Even just the feeling of Mark, throbbing inside you, is already slowly building the pleasure in your stomach again; you wonder if you could cum like this, given enough time, given enough patience. “I’m still waiting for you to fuck me. God, Mark— please.”

He chuckles good-naturedly, but even that’s drowned out by the long moan that leaves you once he draws his hips back; your body’s mildly shocked into a new adjustment, feeling a sudden emptiness that’s quickly mitigated by him filling you back up again. The pace is slow, almost torturous, although you know he isn’t doing it to get a rise out of you. He wants to ease you into speed, careful to help you adjust fully; his restraint in his movements is all the more evident on his face, in the furrowing of his brow and the determination in his gaze. Even with that, he can’t help what he says, so intent on controlling everything else he does that he lets his words spill out over your noises.

“Pretty,” he grunts out, and when your walls twitch around him, he accidentally thrusts sharper — just enough for you to whimper a little more loudly, and he has to reel his strength back again. “God, you’re beautiful. I should’ve told you sooner how much I wanted you. All those times I had to imagine you wrapped around me like this, wondering how much tighter you’d get once you came on my cock. All those times you drove me crazy while I was alone, when I could have been in you— I could have found out how good you felt. How pretty you’d look under me. And you’re still even prettier, even better than I ever dreamed.”

There’s an erratic melody of moans under his words, spilling from your mouth, and the fact that he riles himself up enough to increase his speed slightly doesn’t escape you. He’s a little less careful now, seemingly entranced by the view he gets, watching his shaft disappear into you only to come out glistening, and a part of you hates the idea of snapping out of his reverie, but the majority of your thoughts now lean towards wondering how much more you can get him to break free of his own self-imposed restrictions.

“I wanted to ask you so many times.” His eyes snap up, coming back into focus as he takes in the sight of you, flushed, hair tousled, gaze darkened. “Almost every day — I sat there, thinking about how all I could do was go home and fuck myself, frustrated you weren’t doing it for me. I should have taken you home with me right then and there — should have let you watch me touch myself thinking of you, should have let you touch me into cumming on your fingers.”

His breathing staggers as he leans in, eager to see you clearer, to hear your words, slowly becoming airier as they come out. For a moment, his gaze falls, torn between watching him move into you and meeting your eyes, but he ultimately chooses the latter once you speak up again, your tone even more hushed than before — like it’s meant to be a secret between just you and him.

“But there were times I wanted you even more than that, to the point that I almost felt like I couldn’t wait.” His eyes widen slightly, a few precious seconds of wondering if he understands what you mean, right before you confirm what he thinks. “I thought about making a move right then — I should have kissed you. I should have asked you.”

“Asked me what?” His voice is gruff with the effort to keep himself in check despite the fact that it’s clear to the both of you that it won’t last.

Your lazy smile’s illusionary; it hides the triumph swelling in your chest at knowing that he asked exactly what you hoped him to.

“I should have asked you to fuck me in front of everyone there.”

“God,” his eyes squeeze shut, his grip tightening. “Please. I can’t—”

“I should have bent over for you there, begged you to stretch me out right after our session,” you continue, bordering on merciless. “Mark, you don’t know — how badly I wanted to be on your lap, your cock in me, with everyone watching. How much I wanted you to fold me over that table, have people watch you pound me, have them listen to how good you make me feel. No one would ever even wonder; everyone would know I’m yours.”

You pause, allowing his eyes to fly open once again, and there’s a pleading in them that’s begging for release. Your eyes soften along with your voice, but you’re this far gone; you should at least see it through.

“And everyone would know you’re mine too.”

“Fuck,” he growls, and his hips stutter before new resolve fills him, his hips driving into you with the force of a strength you didn’t even know he had in him; your thighs tremble at the intensity, at the renewed impact, and feeling him drive his cock deeper into you has you crying out somewhere between a moan and a sob. “Fuck, _________. If I had known you’d thought about me like that — God.”

It’s your turn to shut your eyes for a while, allowing yourself to focus on his movements, breaching your tightness even faster now. You feel his hands skim up your sides again, fingers digging into the fabric of your bra and pulling them down until your bare tits are cupped in his hands. You shiver as his thumbs pass over your nipples, toying them into firm nubs.

“One day,” he hums out, his voice giving way to a slight hoarseness again. “I’ll do it. I’ll fuck you in front of him — in front of Youngho, in front of everyone. I’ll let them wonder how tight you are, how fucking warm you are, and I’ll let them leave knowing no one can know but me.”

It’ll never happen, you both know, but something about agreeing to something so absurd is what has your body almost shaking in longing, and it’s what causes him to press in deeper, folding your legs closer to your torso. Your hands do what little they can to help, keeping your thighs apart so as not to obstruct his view. You can tell it’s somehow not enough, not really all of what he wants when his brow furrows, and he shifts his weight, pushing into you at a new angle.

The stark difference has you gasping before you can control it. Immediately, Mark stops, and you’re already shaking your head before you even hear him say anything, presuming he’s paused out of concern. But before you can say you’re fine, his hushed voice cuts through the silence.

“Do that again.”

“What?”

“Do it again,” he mumbles, sounding distant. “Breathe in. Suck in your stomach.”

You’re not one to complain at such a simple request, albeit a little odd, so you comply, inhaling enough to tighten your torso. You’re surprised when you feel his cock twitch inside you, and you blow out the air alongside your question. “Mark, what are you—”

“I can see it,” he says in utter disbelief. “When you’re like this, I can — I can see my cock inside you. Just a bit.”

Your eyes follow his gaze, fixed just below your navel. From this angle, without any movement, you can’t see a thing, but you assume he’s not one to abandon fucking you so intently without good reason, so you press your palm against your stomach, just above your pelvis. Nothing really feels significantly out of place — up until the point when Mark draws his hips back again, and you feel the backward slide of his cock.

Your throat tightens, and you don’t really understand the feeling that spreads in you — a unique kind of arousal, knowing how deep he is inside you and how you’re taking all of him in despite the fit, because of the fit. Your hand falls away, allowing Mark’s to take its place, and he exerts just a little more pressure against your stomach in an attempt to get the most out of the experience when he thrusts back in. He groans, feeling the bulge push back up, and he quickly picks up the same pace, renewed in intensity so he can experience the rapid rise and fall he creates under his palm.

The faster he goes, the harder he presses, and you’re not sure if he knows it, but the onslaught of friction is what’s making you whine and squirm even more; you’re trapped, in the best way possible, in his hold, your hands back to clinging to the backs of your knees like a lifeline. Pressure from the outside builds on the slowly growing pressure inside, a knot in your pelvis that’s coiling so tightly you feel like you can’t breathe. If Mark notices how close you are, he doesn’t make it known; he’s busy feeling the outline of his cock against your stomach, and when he looks up at you again, his eyes are hazy.

“I would fuck you every single day, every single hour if I could feel this every time,” he whispers in a way that’s almost reverent. “Let me — I want to keep seeing you like this. I want to feel how deep I am inside you, too. Let me fuck you all the time.”

You nod, and your first attempt to say something is just another choked sob. When you do manage to get something out, it’s broken in tearful stutters. “M-Mark, I’m s— I’m so close… I’m — fuck—”

“Do it.” It’s not a harsh command but an urging made on short breath; through your misty vision, you see tension in Mark’s face and shoulders, like he’s bracing himself for something too. You barely register the ping in the back of your mind, too focused on the way he’s pressing his palm harder on your stomach, the way his hips quicken their pace — he’s close too. “Let me feel you — want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

You inhale, not to speak but to let out a loud whimper; your teeth dig into your lower lip as you try to stifle the moans that threaten to follow, but in the end, you whine out his name. Your thighs threaten to close, trembling as you finally reach your climax, an impossible explosion of pleasure, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut so that you don’t get dizzy from the stars that burst around your vision.

“Fuck.” Mark’s voice is strained, his one hand still firm against your stomach, the other sliding against the inside of your thigh. “You get even tighter — you feel even better when you cum.”

“Mark,” you hiccup, unable to do anything but flutter around him as he pistons harder into you. You don’t even know what you’re asking for when you say ‘please,’ but he somehow seems to, and you trust that your body’s saying something you can’t fully detect in this state, with your mind floating in the aftermath of ecstasy.

“I know,” his tone is soothing in contrast to the intensity of his thrusts. “I’ve got you. Just a little more — where do you want—?”

You blink slowly, his words sinking in at too leisurely a pace; his hips stutter dangerously before you’re able to respond. You barely even do that, your hand gently brushing over the one against your stomach, but he catches onto the meaning quickly enough.

You’ve never heard your name said in such a beautiful way; hearing him moaning it lowly is enough to make you whine again, and that noise is drawn out when he shifts and slips out of you fully. Your brain’s fuzzy, but your senses are at least sharp enough to drink in the perfect sight of him cumming — the way he leans his head back, jaw taut and eyes shut, as he pumps his cock and the heat of his release against your skin, pooling against your stomach once he finally cums. You see a shiver run through him, and then he’s still for a while in this position, the both of you basking in the afterglow of your highs.

You’re still weak and sensitive when Mark finally comes back down, a lucidity you don’t have right now coming back into his gaze. All you can do is smile when he leans in, catching your lips in another kiss — one that’s surprisingly soft and slow in comparison to everything else, but still leaves you breathless when he pulls away.

“Let me clean you up,” he murmurs, and you hum in agreement, your body limp as you watch him move off the bed and pull a handful of tissues from a box on the desk on the opposite wall. Even his hands are gentle when he scoops you up, shifting you until your head can lean against the pillows. They carry a scent you’re not used to, and your nose scrunches, rejecting the change, but that’s quickly overpowered by Mark’s familiar coffee-and-linen one when he presses next to you, careful as he wipes his cum off your stomach and thoroughly cleans between your thighs. From somewhere down below, you still hear hushed voices, and the front door slams shut again. People are still in the middle of leaving, but you know Youngho will likely run out of guests soon, and this makes you feel like the timing’s suddenly become urgent.

“I want to date you properly,” you start, slightly slurred but unmistakably blunt. Mark’s gaze snaps to yours, slightly amused, as he balls the tissues up in his fist. “You never asked me, so I’m asking you.”

He looks perplexed. “I just never thought you wanted me to, so I didn’t try.”

You reach up, locking your fingers into his hair and using your grip to pull him down. Your kiss is a little demanding, with a tinge of excess frustration, and he pulls away laughing lightly.

“Do you still think I don’t want you to?”

Mark hums thoughtfully. “I think you made a lot of things clear tonight. On my end, I was happy enough to be near you.” He smiles down at you, and in the faint light, you can see the flush slowly return to his cheeks. “Having you like this — dating you… there’s no way I’d say no.”

Your shoulders relax, satisfied with his answer, and you beam up at him — an act he easily returns, breathtaking and endearing all at once.

Moments later, you feel his arm wind around your waist; he allows you to lean into his side, his other hand crossing over his lap to stroke your thigh. His face turns, pressing a kiss to your hair, and you feel his lips move, hear the quick rush of a whisper. You tilt your head, eyes slightly wide in questioning. “What was that?”

He shakes his head at first, trying to pass it off as nothing. But when it’s clear your curiosity won’t abate, he chuckles softly, his hand gently cupping your chin so that you can only look at him. His thumb strokes your bottom lip gently, as if trying to coax the same words out of your mouth before he murmurs them to you one more time — and this time, he sounds fully convinced of them.

“You’re all mine.”

4K notes · View notes