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backtobackbakubabe · 3 years

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Speak Easy Part 4

Bakugo x Reader, Dabi x Reader

Words : 5206

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

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Dabi’s frustration only grew when he saw your excited expression. All the sudden all he could think of was the was the way that Bakubrat had kissed the top of your head the last time he had seen you.

Dabi readjusted you so you were on his back and put his hands firmly on your thighs. He’ll admit he’s being ridiculous, but he wanted to keep you out of reach from the explosive idiot.

You were practically buzzing with excitement. You had missed your friends. Even though you had seen them a few weeks ago, it wasn’t nearly good enough, you felt like you didn’t have enough time to actually thank them for saving you. You had known all of them from high school except you had known Katsuki and Izuku much longer. You all had known each other since you were kids. Katsuki was always the one pulling your pigtails while Izuku was always the one to let you paint his fingernails.

That mentality pretty much stayed the same as you all got older. Katsuki would still relentlessly tease you but he was always much meaner to any of the guys who hit on you. There was a rumor that went around that your quirk made you super good in bed and it had every guy chasing after you for the wrong reasons. He never hesitated to hit first and ask questions later when men cat called you in his presence.

Katsuki had always had a very special place in your heart. He had always been your protector as well as your biggest supporter. There were so many times he and Izuku had talked you out of quitting school. Every so often an article would circulate about how villainous your quirk was and how you deserved to be locked up. The pressure would eventually get to you and you would end up in one of their rooms pacing and holding back tears. They helped you learn to love your quirk, but Katsuki was the one who secretly worked with you on weekends to help you get stronger. He thought if he showed you that you were more than just your quirk you would finally stop listening to all the fucking gossip blogs.

You kept bouncing with excitement the entire time Dabi walked towards the front door. He paused a few steps away and gave your thigh a sharp slap. “Hey, quit that. If you keep bouncing like that, I’m going to drop you. Behave.”

You wondered what crawled up his ass. He was just praising you a few minutes ago and now he’s grumpy. There’s no way he could be that mad about Katsuki coming to visit. He knew this was going to happen. He was holding you when Katsuki promised as much. You understood that he didn’t really get along with most people, and Katsuki was honestly kind of hard to get along with in the first place. But that still didn’t give him the right to be so pissed about him being here.

Dabi opened the door but remained in the doorway, effectively blocking Katsuki from entering. “Can we help you?”

Katsuki had a duffle bag on his shoulder as well as a box at his feet. “You could start by letting me in asshole.” He looked at you and his scowl softened just slightly, “Hey dork. Think you could convince your chauffeur to get out of the way?”

You giggled and gave Dabi’s neck a pinch. Dabi responded by giving your thigh a pinch, “Eye for an eye brat. You want me to let him in? I think I deserve an entrance fee?” He pointed towards his cheek as if he was asking for a kiss.

Katsuki’s eyes traveled from where Dabi’s hand was firmly squeezing your thigh to where he was pointing at his cheek. They were furious. He was about to just shove his was through when you wrapped your arms tight around Dabi’s neck and leaned backwards. Effectively throwing his body weight off and giving Katsuki more than enough room to enter the house.

He quickly let himself in and made his way over to the couch where he dumped the box he was holding. “Alright so here’s your first care package.”

“Don’t see why it needed to hand delivered…” Dabi dropped you on the couch next to the box so you could rummage through it.

Katsuki quickly took the empty spot next to you, totally ignoring Dabi. “I brought you a couple new manga that I know you’ll like, and I think Deku added a bunch of pictures and shit from your old apartment.” He reached over you into the box and pulled out a shirt and you grinned ear to ear. It was an old All Might shirt that you had stolen from Katsuki years ago because you liked how soft it was.

He smiled and put his arm around you, “I thought you might like that. I hope you don’t mind I’ve been wearing it in your absence. So, it might smell like me.”

Dabi walked by grabbing Katsuki’s arm and casually flung it off your shoulder. Then without a word started going through the box. “Did you remember the bathing suit?”

You could hear Katsuki’s palm’s crackle with irritation, “Yes… I did. But don’t get your pervy hopes up. I got the most conservative one I could find.” There he goes being overprotective for no reason… well that wasn’t exactly fair he did have a reason. He had just found you in the most horrendous condition possible and immediately had to hand you off to a former villain who kidnapped him in his youth… so yeah. You decided you were going to cut him some slack.

“Well considering it’s for her fucking rehabilitation…she could be naked for all I care. As long as she’s comfortable and gets those damn legs moving.” Dabi could feel his temper starting to get the better of him. Considering Bakugo was known for having the worlds shortest fuse, he needed to keep his cool. He could not be the one to snap first.

“Oi! Don’t act like carrying her around is such a burden!” Bakugo stood up now squaring off with Dabi.

Dabi’s eyes flared but his voice remained even, “I never said it was a burden… In fact, I love carrying her around. However, I don’t plan on making it a habit because I want her to get better.” His voice dipped and got angrier, “And don’t you talk about her as if she’s not sitting in the same room as us! She can speak for herself…”

He looked at you and you gave him a pointed look. ~Calm down please.~

He took a deep breath and signed back, ~Trying~

Katsuki looked between the two of you with narrowed eyes, “When did you guys learn sign language?”

Dabi walked into the kitchen and started making dinner. If Bakugo wanted to make a house call, he needed to let him have his fun. He’d be leaving soon enough, he just needed to let the two of you be until then. “We started learning a couple weeks ago.” He pulled out two bowls because that’s how passive aggressive he is. If that asshat didn’t get the hint by the time dinner was ready, then he’d just have to sit there and watch you eat.

Dabi had to stop for a moment and contemplate this. Why was he this mad? Why did he actually care this much? You were obviously going to be close with the loudmouth. You’d known him for a long time. He needed to remember that just because you lived with him now doesn’t mean that you even want to be here. For all he knows you’re just tolerating him because you have to. It’s not like the two of you have lots of late-night conversations.

He looked over when he realized it had been pretty quiet and saw that the two of you were speaking in sign. His hands on yours helping you with a new word. “Okay so obviously you know sign too.”

Katsuki had a shit eating grin. “The doctors told my mom when I was young, I’d eventually go deaf due to my quirk. I’m basically fluent.” He continued to sit and teach you new words and damn if you weren’t happier than he had seen in the past two weeks.

Dabi rolled his eyes as he went back to making dinner. “Go ahead and teach her whatever you want. Be fucking useful for once.” Dabi continued to make dinner, shoulders tensing every time he heard you giggle.

Katsuki had his phone out and was showing you everything you had missed. “Okay so surprise, surprise, Deku and IcyHot are like a thing now.” He showed a couple cute pictures from Izuku’s private Instagram. The last one was of them kissing under an umbrella. “Kiri and Mina had a kid. Little rascal is probably about six months old now. He’s cute but his teeth hurt like hell.” He picked up his hand that had a tiny crescent shaped scar, which had you absolutely grinning.

He ruffled your hair, “Oi, you won’t be smiling when the brat bites you next.” He continued to scroll, “OH! I almost forgot the best part.” He turned his phone to you and showed you a picture of someone’s mug shot. “Fucking grape juice got arrested.”

Your eyes widened. You waited for him to go one when you realized he was waiting on you. He was giving you an opportunity to contribute to the conversation. ~Why?~

“Trying to buy a prostitute… Literally no one was surprised.” He looked back to the kitchen to make sure Dabi wasn’t listening. When he was satisfied, he pulled you closer into his side and threw his arm around you. “Hey, you would let me know if he was mistreating you right?” His fingers carded through your hair and his eyes roamed all your visible skin for signs of abuse.

You nodded your head and pulled your shirt further down, suddenly aware that you weren’t wearing pants. You had just gotten so used to it you had forgotten. He noticed you fidgeting, “He hasn’t touched you, has he? Because I swear to God I’ll rip out every single staple in his body then make him eat them.”

You leaned further into his to side to hide your blush. He most certainly had touched you. And you still hadn’t worked out how you felt about it. He hadn’t made any attempt to do it again beyond the casual touches when he carried you or when he helped you in the pool. He had made it a habit of sleeping in your room, but he always stayed on his side of the bed.

Katsuki must have taken your lack of response as a confirmation. “I’m going to kill him.”

You sat up straight and started shaking your head, ~No. No. Wrong~

“Wrong? So, he hasn’t touched you then?”

You gulped. Either way you answered was bad. You either told him the truth and he rage killed Dabi, or you lied to your best friend… Either way you were fucked.

As you struggled for an answer Dabi walked in and handed you your bowl of curry and rice. “Don’t worry I’ll answer that one for you, and stop at me at any point you think I got it wrong.” He took his seat in a recliner and took a bite of his meal. “So, we had a moment where something could have happened, but we stopped before it got too far and decided we were just being emotional and moved on.”

Katsuki’s hand started to heat up and crackled but you pulled on his arm to get his attention, ~Right~

He still looked angry, and maybe even a little hurt, which had you all confused again. He looked like he wanted to throw one of his famous temper tantrums. You knew how much it was killing him to not pounce on Dabi, “Keep your disgusting hands to yourself from now on. She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need you taking advantage of her!”

“You don’t speak for her!”

You clapped your hands to get their attention, ~Enough~ You gave each of them a glare and it was silent after that.

You took a bite of your dinner to avoid Katsuki’s eyes and was met with the most delicious meal Dabi had made to date. You cleared your throat to get Dabi’s attention. You pointed to Katsuki then your bowl of food and signed ~where~?

“I didn’t think a busy hero like him would have time to stick around for dinner.” He continued to pick at his food, “Speaking of which. It’s getting late. Hate to keep you from your super important work of dress up and make believe.”

Katsuki gestured to the duffle bag he carried in. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere tonight.” He was looking at you now. A look of concern ghosted across his face. “Consider it a wellness check.” He leaned forward and gave the side of your head a soft peck, “I just want to be sure you’re okay. I promised you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you and I intend to keep that promise.”

You felt yourself sinking into his familiar warmth. If there was anyone who felt like home, it was Katsuki. Sure, he was in the middle of a ridiculous pissing contest with Dabi at the moment, but you really couldn’t blame him. He’d always been a stubborn, territorial, asshole. But he was also kind he cared about you and for that you could forgive him.

“Whatever, just don’t get in the way of our routine.” Dabi stood up with his now empty bowl. “You know that law, eat every last bite. I’ll get your bath started while you finish.” He looked at Katsuki, “You can have my room… I’ll sleep on the couch.”

He didn’t even wait for a response as he left the two of you alone.

Katsuki visibly relaxed into the couch once Dabi had left the room. “What did he mean by law?”

You smiled as you pulled out your journal and opened it up for him. You pointed to law number seven. At first, he was pissed that Dabi would give you a new set of rules to live by, like you were some kid. But then he realized there wasn’t a single “law” on here that didn’t have your best interest in mind.

His eyes scanned over the rest. Chuckling at some silly laws like ‘Wake up whenever the hell you want’, and ‘No fucking shrugging.’ He had to admit that he also hated it when you would do that. It wasn’t that you were indecisive. It was that you knew what you wanted but you never wanted to speak up for yourself. Always willing to bend over backwards to make others happy. Never wanting to give anyone any more reason to dislike you.

His heart hurt at the laws that said things like, ‘No drugs’, ‘No locked doors’, and ‘Never say sorry for something that isn’t your fault.’

The law that had his blood boiling however was the last one, law number thirteen. ‘I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.’ He furiously flipped through the pages that came after, trying to get the idea of you ever giving Dabi consent to touch you out of his mind.

You had finished your food by now and stretched your muscles out. All in all, this had been a great day. You walked on your own in the pool AND Katsuki had come to visit. You were so tired you just knew you would fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Hopefully you wouldn’t have any nightmares.

You put your hand on Katsuki’s shoulder and used it to push yourself to your feet. You wobbled for a few seconds but otherwise kept your footing.

“Hey look at you! I thought you’d be too tired after what we did in the pool today, good job.” You looked up to see Dabi leaning in the hallway. “Your bath is ready. One for me, two for blondie.”

Katsuki scrunched his nose up, “Wha-“

You held up two fingers and Dabi nodded. “Alright looks like you get bath time duty today.” Dabi smirked when Katsuki’s eyes widened. “Don’t freak out. She’s gotten to the point where she can get in on her own and some days she can even get out too. You just need to hang out by the door in case she needs help.

You wound your arms around Katsuki’s neck, and he picked you up. His heart pounded as he followed Dabi to what he assumed was your room. He leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Hey wouldn’t be the first time we bathed together.”

You giggled and hit his shoulder. You knew he meant when you were kids. But you couldn’t stop the blush that took over you at the thought of him just hopping in the tub with you now.

Dabi tensed up as he stopped at the door to your room. “Alright… y/n you know the drill if you need me just yell.” He winked at you after his stupid joke and you flipped him off.

He walked back to the kitchen and opened his laptop. He started to go over tomorrow’s sign language lesson early. He’d never tell you this, but he does this every day. You were so much better at picking it up then him, he needed to do extra work just to keep up.

You signed ~Thank you~ as Katsuki placed you down next to the full tub.

“Okay… so I guess you just let me know if you need me by…?”

You shrugged as you knocked on the side of the tub. Part of you really didn’t want him to leave, even if it was only for a few minutes. You reached out and grabbed his wrist.

He gave you a curious look, but softened when you signed back, ~Stay~

“Does he usually stay?”

You shook your head, Dabi always insisted he had things to do and it was important you do some things on your own.

Katsuki took a seat on the floor with his back against the tub. Even with permission he was determined to protect your modesty. You slipped your clothes off and quickly lifted your legs into the tub. It was almost too easy now and you smiled at your progress.

You sighed as the water warmed your skin. Your hand reached for Katsuki’s and gave it a squeeze. You could see the tension in his shoulders as he squeezed your hand back before intertwining your fingers.

“Y/n… I -I know I’ve already said I’m sorry. But I still have this mountain of guilt sitting on my chest. You were… are… one of the most important people in my life. And I was so wrapped up in my own life I didn’t see the signs. I didn’t notice that something was wrong.” You could hear his voice crack as he tried to hold his emotions down. “I knew you went on secret missions that you couldn’t always talk about. I watched as you came back looking defeated and… and broken. I thought there was something going on, but I just kept reminding myself you worked with heroes… that I was just being paranoid.”

You felt tears build in your eyes and you were glad he wasn’t looking at you. You rubbed circles on his hand with your thumb encouraging him to keep going. He obviously had a lot he had been bottling up. “You know Deku and I went to your agency one day after you had been gone for a few months and all they told us was your mission was confidential, and we weren’t related to you so they couldn’t even tell us if you were okay.” He sniffled, “I went there every day after work and got the same bull shit answer. It drove me crazy.”

He took a deep breath to settle himself, “So we started asking about you. Started looking for you in all the underground trading routes.” A long silence followed as he got lost in the memories of looking for you. “It almost took us a year, but we finally found someone who had seen you. Some small-time villain whose quirk was invisibility. He had snuck into your agency to try and break his boss out. But when he found him you were also in the room…”

He didn’t keep going, and for that you were grateful because you didn’t want to hear it. You knew what came next and you didn’t exactly want to relive it.

“I’m so sorry. I failed you. I was supposed to protect you. I promised you I’d be by your side forever, and I-I-“

You pulled his hand towards you and gave it a kiss before putting his palm on your cheek. He hesitantly turned and looked at you with tears in his eyes. You activated your quirk and washed over him with feelings of love and understanding. You watched his eyes close as he shuttered. You may not be able to speak, but you could still communicate to him through feeling that you were okay.

You reached over and brushed a stray tear away and pulled him close to plant a kiss on his forehead.

When your bath was over, he waited for you to wrap yourself in a towel before picking you up and depositing you gently on your bed. You pulled the All Might shirt he had brought with him over your head, and crawled under the covers.

He had only wanted to lay there until you fell asleep, but he ended up falling asleep soon after you.

Dabi walked in hoping to tell you goodnight but found the two of you asleep facing each other. You under the covers, Bakugo on top of the covers. Your hands stretched out towards each other as if looking for each other even in sleep.

Dabi’s hands were glowing with livid flames as he left in a hurry.

He went straight to the abandoned cabinet that held all of the now off-limits drugs. He could take just one… you would never know.

He growled as he shoved the bottle back into the cabinet and slammed the door. Reaching instead for a bottle of whiskey. He went to the couch and poured himself a drink.

And that’s how you and Bakugo found him the next day. Passed out on the couch empty whisky bottle on the floor next to him.

Dabi chugged his coffee as his head pounded. He was no stranger to hangovers, but ever since you came to live with him, he hadn’t felt the need to drink that much. At one point in his life it had been the only way he could get any decent sleep.

He watched from his seat at the kitchen island as you and Bakugo made breakfast. The smell of bacon hit him and his stomach growled. Shit.

You could see his sour expression and when Bakugo wasn’t looking you stood from the chair you were sitting in. Dabi kept his eyes on you like a hawk. Watching for any signs you might fall. You stumbled but he remained still. He knew you were okay. The Island was right there if you needed to hold on to it. You were only a few steps away from him now. Arms stretched out and a smile on your face.

You knew this would cheer him up, and get him out of whatever shitty mood he was in. Only one more step and you’d be there. To this Dabi stood up and took a step away from you with a playful look in his eye as if to say come and get me.

Bakugo continued to talk, not even noticing you weren’t sitting behind him anymore. It wasn’t until the loud thud of you hitting the tile floor that he looked up. He immediately rushed to you while Dabi laughed.

“Why the fuck are you laughing? She could be hurt!”

Dabi just continued to laugh, “I’m laughing because it’s fucking funny. She’s fine.” He titled his head to the side. “You’re a tough cookie aren’t yeah y/n?”

You giggled and nodded. Dabi took you from Bakugo’s embrace “See she’s fine. I think you need to remember she used to be a pro hero. I think she can handle tripping over her own feet.” He stood up and sat you down in front of the laptop.

“Okay time to learn some sign language, looks like today’s all about food. Oh good, you love food.” He ruffled your hair before picking a piece of bacon off of your plate and biting into it.

The little back and forth continued the entire day. The biggest argument came later when it was time for the pool. You groaned and decided you weren’t in the mood. ~No pool~

Dabi rolled his eyes at you, “Yes pool. You even have a bathing suit this time. So, get your ass in gear.”

You crossed your arms over your chest in defiance. “Listen here brat. It’s the law. We work on getting your strength back every single day. No negotiations.”

Bakugo didn’t like the tone Dabi was talking to you in. “Oi, she’s not some puppet for you to boss around. She said she doesn’t want to so that’s it. Back off!”

Dabi’s eyes flared with anger, “You don’t have a fucking say in this. This is between me and her.” He looked at you again, “If you had asked nicely, I might have let this go. Just because we have a guest doesn’t mean you can disregard the laws and neglect the routine. Now be a good girl and let’s go put your bathing suit on.”

Bakugo stepped between you and Dabi, “Be a good girl? What the fuck is your problem. You don’t own her.”

Dabi pinched the bridge of his nose trying to remind himself why he can’t just fight the obnoxious asshole in font of him. “I don’t own her, but I also refuse to sit here and watch her wither away. We have laws to make her better, and I refuse to deviate. It’s clear I take her recovery more seriously than you do.”

Bakugo shoved Dabi back, “The fuck you do! This isn’t some rehab she checked into. You have no right to boss her around! What makes you think you know what’s best for her?”

Dabi was practically screaming now, “Because I’ve fucking been in her shoes, you ignorant ticking time bomb!” His chest was heaving now, “Did you ever wonder why I had to fake my own death just to get away from my own father… who was a fucking HERO! I’ve been poked and prodded and pushed past my limits. Except I didn’t have someone there to help me and I ended up in the League. Depressed, blood thirty, and hell bent on getting revenge on the so-called heroes that were so okay with a little boy practically killing himself every day just to produce the next number one.”

To this Bakugo didn’t have an answer. He’s heard Todoroki’s horror stories. He could only imagine what Endeavor had put Dabi through.

Dabi looked at you know eyes still furious, “I’ll make you a deal y/n. You put on quite the show this morning taking a few steps on your own. No matter how mad I am, I’ll never tell you that wasn’t a good job. But now you want to skip the very thing that allowed you to take those steps.” He walked out of the kitchen and took a seat in his recliner. “Make it over to me right now, with no help and we can skip the pool.”

With a determined scowl you pushed yourself out of your seat. Bakugo went to grab you “Y/n you don’t have to do-“

“Yes! She does, now let her do it. She needs this. Y/n you can do this. Now prove it to me and prove it to yourself.”

You took your first step, determination written all over you face. Step followed step and you had already walked further than you had this morning, but you were only about halfway there.

Dabi’s eyes were patient and his voice was calm. “Come on y/n. You can do this. You aren’t broken. There is nothing wrong with you. Just keep walking.”

You could feel the tension in the room stiffen. Bakugo watched you with his hands out as if to catch you, always your protector, always your safety net. But you didn’t need that right now.

Your knees started to wobble and buckle, and involuntary whine left your lip as you went down to one knee.

“Come on you can’t give up now. You’re doing such a good job. Now push yourself back up. I’m right here. Come on. Push harder!”

You felt a tear streak down your cheek as you tried to push yourself up but only ended up on the ground.

Bakugo was at your side in an instant but you pushed him away.

“That’s right y/n you can do this. I believe in you. I don’t care if you have to crawl. You’re so close.” You pulled yourself up enough to crawl across the rough carpet. You got up to your knees then slowly you stood.

Dabi saw the fire in your eyes and it sent a shiver down his spine. You were going to do this even if it killed you. It made him think about what you would look like in battle. If you looked even half as gritty as you do now he had no doubt you had strong men cowering at your feet. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he gave that back to you. That power, that strength, that untamable will, he knew was somewhere inside you laying dormant.

He got out of his recliner and lowered himself to the ground, “Come on your so close now. Keep going Y/N!”

With one last push you practically jumped into his arms and collapsed. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but for the first time since coming here they were happy tears. You did it. You walked all on your own.

He cooed into your hair as he rocked you back and forth, “You did such a good job. You did it. I knew you could. You can rest now. I’ll get you some ice cream. How does that sound. We’ll celebrate.”

You nodded as you clutched Dabi’s shirt.

Bakugo disappeared for a few minutes and when he came back he had his bag over his shoulder. He kneeled down next to you and pressed his forehead to yours. “I think it’s time I got back to work. I still need to take down the bastards that did this to you.” He smoothed his fingers through your hair and looked to Dabi, “I think you’re in good hands.”

He made his way to the door, “I’ll be back soon.”

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Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime@klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need

#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #mha bakugou #bhna bakugou #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #dabi my hero academia #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi todoroki #toya todoroki #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #my hero academia

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daughterofluthien · 4 years

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Fictober - Day 3

Prompt number: 3. “you did this?” Fandom: Teen Wolf Rating: T Characters/Relationships: Melissa McCall & Scott McCall Word Count: 1245 Warnings/Tags: canon-typical violence, angst A/N: Episode tag to 2x10 “Fury”

Melissa had been an ER nurse for years and had seen pretty much every type of injury there was. But tonight, these were the images she couldn’t get out of her head:

A troubled young man, holding a gun to her son’s head.

Scott, doubled over in pain and slumped against the wall. Gunshot wound to the abdomen, upper right quadrant. No blood on the back of his shirt, which meant no exit wound, which meant that the bullet was still inside.

(Call 911. Get the patient off his feet and minimize movement. Keep pressure on the wound until paramedics arrive.)

A gun held to her own head, stopping her from doing her job and helping her son.

A thing she didn’t have a name for, fighting a man who attacked with claws and moved more like an animal than a human.

A second person, burying long, inhuman claws deep into the back of the first creature.

The face of a monster with fangs and yellow eyes, except it looked like her son.

The violence was over as quickly as it started, and she was left alone in the holding cell with the Sheriff, who was slow to come back to consciousness. When he finally did, he steadied on the wall as he stood up. She watched him carefully for signs of a concussion, because once again she had no way of reaching a patient who needed her. And there was a chance that they were the only people still in the building who were left alive.

She started into the standard diagnostic questions, but he waved her off. “Where’s my son? Where’s Scott, we need to get him to a hospital.”

She shook her head. “I… I don’t know, I--”

(I haven’t seen your son, but I have seen mine. And I’m not sure what good a hospital will do when I don’t think medical science even has a word for whatever he is.)

He didn’t wait for a complete answer before half-walking, half-running out of the room, desperate to find his son. Fifteen minutes ago, she would’ve been able to relate.

It took longer than she expected before the Sheriff came back with keys, and part of her kept waiting for Scott to walk back in through the door and prove that this had all been some sort of dream or practical joke.

The other part of her remembered yellow eyes, and she was terrified that they would be all she saw.

Paramedics and deputies were on their way, but they hadn’t arrived yet, and the station was eerily silent as she picked her way past the bodies and towards the front entrance. She had given her statement directly to the Sheriff, who made sure she was okay, then told her she could go home.

She almost asked him to call her if he heard any news about Scott, but she bit her tongue at the last minute.

One of the lights outside the station was out, and she fumbled in the dark for her keys. Her hands shook, and she dropped them twice before managing to fit the key into the car door.

(The human body floods with adrenaline as a standard response to stressful situations, causing high blood pressure and rapid heart rate. When fight or flight is no longer necessary, the excess adrenaline can cause shakiness and feelings of anxiety or dread. This is perfectly normal and is not cause for concern.)

She took a deep, steadying breath, opened the car door, and started to climb inside.

“Mom?”

She jumped in shock, and nearly hit her head on the roof of the car.

Scott was standing on the other side of her car door, and she was glad that it was too dark to see his face clearly.

She didn’t know if she could stand to see yellow where the brown should be.

He was her son, her baby boy, and an hour ago he was shot point blank in the gut. Part of her wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and refuse to let go.

But then she remembered claws. Fangs. A distorted, inhuman face.

Without even meaning to, she glanced down at his hands. They looked normal, human. Her son’s hands. But he noticed the movement and stepped back, looking away sheepishly.

When he didn’t say anything, she spoke first. “You know, the police are going to be here any minute. So unless you want them to ask you questions about--” She nodded in the direction of the bloody hole in his shirt that he was no longer holding with his hand.

“Yeah, I know, I just-- I wanted to make sure…” He fumbled for the words like she had for her keys, and she wondered if the same rules about adrenaline applied to him. “Are you okay?”

Melissa almost laughed. “I don’t know if okay’s the right word, really, after that. But I’ll survive.” She looked down at the place where the gunshot wound should be. “And you, you’re--”

“Healed. Yeah.” He winced and shifted his weight. “Well, mostly.”

“But I saw, when you got shot... The bullet, it didn’t come out. Is it still--”

“I think... I healed around it. It doesn’t hurt.”

She shook her head. “Scott, it doesn’t work like that. It’s not possible.”

His answer was so quiet that she barely heard him. “It does for me.”

She didn’t have an answer, because she had too many questions.

(How long have you been like this? Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me? What are you?)

She swallowed and didn’t look him in the eyes. “I just have one question, Scott. And I’d really like it if you were truthful about this.”

“Anything, I promise.”

“Those bodies that were torn up in there. All that blood… Would you tell me if you did this?”

He answered immediately, and there was an edge of pleading and panic in his voice. “I didn’t, Mom, you have to believe me. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t…”

She didn’t know what was happening, and she didn’t know why a monster had looked back from the face of her son. But she was a mother and her child was terrified, and that was a situation where she knew exactly what to do.

“Okay, it’s okay, Scott. I believe you.”

He paused. “You do?”

“I may not know much of anything right now, but I do know this: whatever else you are, you’re my son. I don’t think you could kill those men.”

Before she could think better of it, she leaned across the car and unlocked the passenger side door. “Now get in. I clocked out at the hospital early for this, so we should both get home.”

Scott hesitated, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, you don’t need to… I mean, I rode with Stiles.”

“And Stiles’ dad was just as scared tonight as I was. He’s not going to want to let his son out of his sight long enough to play chauffeur. And if you don’t need to go to the hospital, then you need to get to bed.”

She didn’t know if he needed the same amount of sleep as a normal sixteen year old boy. She also didn’t ask.

Scott paused for a moment longer, then nodded. “Thanks.”

He shut the door, then she shut her own and started the engine.

She only hesitated for a second.

#fictober20 #teen wolf #scott mccall #melissa mccall #mmm i feel like this is a bit choppy but whatcha gonna do #also someone pls help both of them it's been a Bad Day #my fic

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mercycjones · 3 years

Text

Moving In

INVOLVED: Mercedes Jones, Christopher Jones, Samuel Evans LOCATION: University of Miami; Miami, Florida TIME FRAME: - NOTES: Samuel tries to pursue Mercedes on move-in day, again.

Samuel handed down the last box from the back of his powder blue Ford 1976 pickup truck before jumping down from the tailgate, landing beside his best friend. “I don’t know why you didn’t bring that shit when you moved in over a month ago.” He said, struggling to get the tailgate to close. He pulled up on it for a few minutes before turning to his preoccupied friend. “You mind!” he fussed. “You know this thing takes two people to get it back in place.”

Montray stood idly by gazing lovingly at every woman his eye could follow. The campus was bursting at the seams with returning upperclassmen. “I could have but then I couldn’t have you chauffeuring me around town.” He said, mockingly blowing a fake kiss at Samuel. “This is going to be one hell of a year. Bro did you see Janet?” Montray looked over at his friend and sucked his teeth. Setting the box down the shoulder in stand at the ready beside Samuel. “This truck is trash man.”

Samuel chuckled, “the pleasure was mine. After all this little trip got me your sister’s number.” He said easily, not bothering to look at his friend. Every other minute Samuel glanced toward the entrance to the house expectantly. “Yeah, I saw her. Touched her too. And I have plans to touch her again tonight.” Sam’s jaw clenched, “Fuck you. Don’t talk about my baby. On the count of three, 1, 2, 3,” He rattled off, putting all his muscle into lifting the gate.

Montray‘s head jerked toward Samuel. “Man, nix that shit. My sister is off limits. You hear me?” he said, but followed Samuel’s line of sight, shaking his head at his friend's stares towards the dorm. “What are you looking for Evans?” He asked face sporting a shit eating smirk. “Man you are a greedy motherfucker. You know that’s why Mercedes ain’t fucking with you…” The laugh came out loud echoing the square. “I forgot how sensitive you are about this piece of shit.” He said, adding his weight to Samuel’s, finally getting the truck’s gate to slam close.

“I know bitch. A man gotta eat.” Samuel said, licking his chops. He sucked his teeth dismissing Montray’s assessment. “Mercedes who?” He asked dismissively, with another quick look towards the dorm entrance. “Keep talking shit. I’m going to remember that the next time your ass needs a ride.”

Climbing out of the large black Escalade, Mercedes pulled her backpack onto her shoulders closing the car door thereafter. She allowed her brother to take the lead, opening the trunk of the truck and grabbing her large suitcase and duffle bag out of it. She placed one bag over the other before she pulled her book bag down to retrieve her dorm room key. “Aren’t you glad I packed light this time?” she joked with the taller boy.

Christopher looked at Mercedes, an eyebrow raised as he turned his eyes back to the other three storage bins she had in the trunk. “Yeah” he said sarcastically “you have saved me so much work” he said as he pulled the bins out of the trunk and stacked them up on the sidewalk.

“I hardly doubt this could be classified as light” Caleb said as he grabbed Christopher’s duffle bag from inside of the family car. He looked to the parking spots nearby, seeing his wife tucked safely inside. “This process has gotten old, quickly” he said in a husky voice. “It would be much easier if the both of you let your mother and I get you two an apartment here” he said exasperatedly.

Mercedes scrunched her nose at her brother, and even offered their father a chuckle. “I am getting better with packing” she noted as she looked at the welcoming packet they gave everyone year after year. “My room is on the third floor, 304” she told her brother with a smile. “Dad” she said giving him a knowing look “we are fine” she said speaking for her and Christopher as she often did. “It adds to the college experience” she said offering the older man a smile before she tucked her packet away and added her room key to her chain. “Next time, I’ll pack even lighter so that Chris and I can travel alone, and you and Mom won’t have to come all this way” she told him.

Montray continued to laugh, slipping forward as the gate slammed shut. “You’re full of it. Mercedes WHO?” He mocked in a high pitched voice, righting himself, he brushed dirt from his chest. “I can’t believe you are still on her. Evans, Evans, Evans… Has it ever occurred to you that the woman doesn’t care for white dudes? That girl is a full grown cornbread feed sister. She is trying to date a Malik, a Jermoine, dare I say it? A Montray. I love you like a brother but dude. She shot you down repeatedly last year. She just ain’t into your type.” He said reaching down to pick up the box. “It’s time for you to stand aside and let another dude shoot his shot. Besides I have told you time and time again. A white man can’t handle that kind of ASS.” He said, body trembling with the thought of it.

The thought had actually occurred to Samuel, maybe he wasn’t her cup of tea. Nevertheless he didn't admit defeat, not today. Which was evident by how presently, Montray was tap dancing on a nerve that he didn’t know was so sensitive. He chucked his friend off, grabbing two heavy duffle bags from the pavement. “I’m every woman’s type” he corrected moving towards the dorms. “Beside you assume too much..” Samuel paused letting a black SUV pull in front of the building, then continued up the walk. Call it a sick sense of just dumb luck. Back turned the faint smell of familiar perfume drew his eyes back over his shoulder. He squinted for a second, an indescribable feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” He moved quickly to the side dropping Montray’s bags to the pavement. “I’ll be right back.” He brushed his hand over his shirt and pants, and adjusted his hat. He strolled calmly back towards the entrance. Taking the time to nod casually toward the odd person as he went. Aligning with her brother, he turned back pedaling as some random girl reminded him to call her. Hands over his heart, “I got you.” He said, bumping into Christopher almost falling over.

Christopher looked up and nodded his head “yeah dad, we are cool” he cosigned as he looked to his little sister. “Next time, we will get it done ourselves” he breathed huskily as he hoisted the bin up.

Caleb gave the younger girl a displeased look before he nodded his head, grabbing a bin he hoisted it up and moved to rest it to the side, helping essentially. “I’ll be right back” he told the two as he moved towards his wife.

Mercedes chuckled at Caleb and she watched the men work holding onto the handle of the luggage bag. “Okay” she said to their father as he walked off.

Christopher nodded his head at Caleb, he looked to see the one Samuel Evans, bumping into his large frame. “Evans” he breathed before he looked at his sister knowingly. “It’s okay” he told the man kindly as he moved around him, towards the stack.

Mercedes looked at Samuel as he all but fell into her brother, the pair swapped glances as he turned the man’s helpful hand down. She smirked to herself knowingly before she turned her back to him, “I’m going to go up Chris” she called back over her shoulder as she moved towards the entrance with her duffle and suitcase.

“What the…” Montray sputtered as Sam dropped his bags and rushed off. Moving to stand guard over his things he saw what, or rather who had grabbed the man’s attention.

Shaking his hand reached for his bag sliding the strap over his shoulder. “Damn, a new fool.” Struggling now with his things Montray headed towards the elevators.

Samuel spun, righting himself missing the totes by only a heartbeat, “excuse me.” He rushed out before smiling broadly at the siblings. He hadn’t managed to say another word before Mercedes put her back to him and scurried off. He grinned, watching her retreat for a second. Chuckling, he yelled out, “Thank you Ms. Jones.” Pointing for approval at a tote, “Hey man. Nice to see you again” he said conversationally, to Christopher. “Let me give you a hand.” He shoulder the tote and used his long legs to catch Mercedes.

Christopher looked at the man “yeah” he said with a slight head gesture at the apology. “Uh yeah” he said, in reply “good to see you to” he man of few words tossed out. Christopher wasn’t blind or dumb, every time Samuel gave his sister that look he knew where his eyes most likely landed. And he didn’t really like it that much. He swore on the life of his nonexistent children that he’d always protect his sister from any man that gave her that look again. As he pressed the issue he watched him, a small growl leaving his lips. He looked back at his parents before he picked up a bin lifting it and moving behind the two.

Mercedes hummed happily as she moved inside the massive building. Once inside she breezed past some other students, making her way towards the elevator. She adjusted the backpack on her back and she stopped in front of the metal doors, pressing the up button. Looking down the hall, she saw Samuel again and seemingly looked past him on purpose before she waved at another familiar face.

Motherfuck… Mercedes was playing his game better than him. Samuel thought, moving into the lobby, trying to catch the woman. Honestly, he knew she was in the building but had no clue where her room was. Though, holding her things for ransom was an intriguing idea. He mused, steadily gaining ground on the woman. He saw her wave and smile almost betrayed him. But game peeps game and he glanced back over his shoulder to see some random girl, waving in Mercedes direction.

Gordon’s huge form worked like a wall as he moved through the denison. And with Josh in toe, together, they damn near created their own ecosystem. Even on his job, Gordon spotted the fair haired quarterback, immediately. Pointing towards Samuel, he raised an eyebrow at the tote the man carried up the hall. “That’s Montray’s?”’

Samuel shook “No! It’s Mercedes. Josh, go find Tray and help him with his shit. I left him over by the drink machines.” He said, throwing his head to the right as he continued to move forward, passing by the men. Turning he backpedaled for a second. Gordon, that’s Chris see if he could use help with some more of Mercedes’ stuff.” He ordered, nodding at Mercedes' brother.

Gordon and Josh nodded compliance and moved off to respective targets. Gordon jogged over to Christopher. Have a vague notion of who the man was because the bin he carried as identical to the one Samuel had. “Samuel said you might need a hand?”

Samuel made it to the elevator and sat the tote down on the pavement. “Woman you see me.” He said, standing to straighten his shirt. “You could have at least said hello before giving me the cold shoulder.”

Christopher trotted behind both Samuel and Mercedes, damn Sam made carrying this heavy ass shit look easy. Why did his sister have a habit of bringing all of her best and newest outfits to school each year he didn’t know. Seeing, whatever his name was, George? Or something. He nodded “yeah, it’s two more of these out there” he huffed finally sitting the bin down in front of himself and catching his breath. “I’ll wait for you, I know the room number,” he told the guy.

Mercedes watched Theresa as she scurried to the destination she was pursuing her heart thumping in her chest just at the thought. When Samuel spoke she finally looked at him “hello Samuel Evans” she said without much care in her voice. “I see you convinced Christopher to let you help” she mused looking at her things. The elevator doors opened and she moved inside of them, placing her finger on the open button to actually give him time to get on. “Though I’m sure you have something else, or someone rather, you could be tending to…” she said finally looking into his green eyes, brow raised.

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” Gordon nodded moving out the doors. He bent to lifting the two stacked bins testing the weight. Deciding one trip was better than two he lifted the bins with a small grunt and walked them steadily back to where the man was waiting.

Samuel’s mouth dropped in mock shocked delight… “So, you do remember me. And my government name too. Progress.” He told the woman rubbing his hand together. “Convinced?” He questioned, careful to keep his eyes off the giggling girls that exited the elevator, as he took up the bin again, “It looks like you brought everything you owned back with you. The man needed some assistance. Wait -I know you weren’t going to make that man carry all this stuff up by himself? Ms. Jones... “ He playfully scolded, moving into the elevator. Her hazel eyes met his and there it was again. That stirring of something that made him keep pursuing this girl, despite her numerous rejections. He cleared his throat and leaned back against the elevator wall. Her words were clear. No doubt he could be anywhere else, but in fact he was exactly where he wanted to be, in this moment. He smiled broadly and licked his lips, shaking his head, no, to her very loaded question.

Christopher nodded his head, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as he took a look around.

“UM’s most prized possession? Oh how I wish I could forget…” she rebuttal. “Christopher is a strong young man, he could’ve handled it” she told him pressing the 3rd floor button and looking off. His head shake caused her to roll her eyes “I have no doubt there’s a few more giggles who’d love to have you, carry, their things up” she said, her voice very assured in her statement. She hummed, eyeing him in their close proximity before the doors slid open and she walked off the metal box pulling her luggage with her. She moved for 304 and used the key to turn the lock opening it up. “You can sit it by the door, au revior” she spoke fluently, dismissing him.

Gordon moved on towards the elevator, scared to stop once he started moving. “What floor is it chief?” He yelled back at Christopher, moving past the man.

“Jokes…. I like that in a woman. It keeps me guessing.” Samuel told the short woman, making a serious statement in the most unserious tone. “Wow…” Samuel shook his head mournfully, hefting the tote, feeling the weight of it for the first time. “That’s messed up,” He grinned then looked over at the girl. “You sound jealous.” Chuckling, “Yeah, but I don’t want to carry their things” He said, following her out of the elevator “I want to carry yours.” She pointed to a spot near the closet, then tried to dismiss him in what he assumed was french. “This is nice.” Samuel set the box down, rubbing the sweat away from his palms on his jeans. He moved deeper into the dorm room, he fingered the single desk, then took a second to pier out the window, before turning back to face Mercedes. “So, you have this whole room to yourself? Lucky you.” He said, wondering how much this room cost.

Christopher watched the boy bypass him with two bins, his brows stitched. “3” he said as he picked his back up and followed behind the guy. “That isn’t heavy?” He asked curiously.

“Jealous?” Mercedes asked the word leaving her tongue, seeping like poison of out a fresh wound. “No, I believe it is you who’s the comedian” she said. As Samuel made himself at home, looking around her new spot. “There’s no luck involved, I have to pay to stay in this singular room” she reminded as she rolled the luggage to the spot she desired and pulled her backpack off her back. She sat the bag down on the empty desk and moved to turn on a light. She fell quiet as she examined the door room for herself taking it in, ignoring Samuel’s still obvious presences.

Gordon grunted, “Shoot yeah. What’s she got in these things.” He quickly sat the bins down by the elevator. Breathing hard. “How many more does she have?”

Samuel folded his arms in front of himself, “What's funny? That man sees a woman he likes and wants to get to know her. I thought that was some tale as old as time shit.” He rebuttal raising an eyebrow, “Okay, then, I guess blessed is proper wording.” He dropped his arms, “Hmm” he looked down at his feet, then back up to the woman with a small smile on his face. “I thought we had at least moved past idle ignore Mercedes. Damn, I texted you at least once a week the whole break.”

Christopher chuckled a bit “clothes, shoes” he said with a headshake. “Sorry” he told him as he put his bin down and pressed the up button. “This is it” he told him with a smile, “thanks for the help” he added as the doors open.

“It’s only funny if you are one of many women, I guess” Mercedes said back to him with a shrug. She sighed loudly, licking her lips and folding her arms as she looked at him. “And I saw each one,” she said, licking her lips again and she looked away from him. “I don’t know what you want, I am sure whatever it is I can’t give it to you. So why don’t you just stop?” She breathed. “You’ve never seen me with anyone anyway, I am just here for a medical degree” she emphasized.

Samuel stopped and turned green, eyes shining. “I want to get to know you. That’s easy to see.” He finished, nodding as he moved on, grabbing the handle of the door. “A question, why do you think I chase women?” He asked, stopping once more, he raised an eyebrow.

“Because you can” Mercedes said simply “why do any man do what they do?” She said bitterly. She swallowed down her bitterness and backed away from the boy a little. She didn’t know why he played this game of cat and mouse, he only wanted one thing. They both knew that. And she wasn’t buying what he was trying to sell so diligently.

Samuel frowned, licking his lips as the mood in the room changed in an instant. He pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway. Adding more space between him and the woman. He held the door open, his large body taking up most of the space in the doorway, gazing at the woman, feeling again some weird ass need to make her comfortable. “I don’t chase women.” He said in a low calm tone. “I like women and most of the time they like me back.” He stood up tall, “I’m not trying to chase you Mercedes. I am trying…” He looked from side to side checking the hall for anyone that might over hear the dopey shit he was about to say. “You’re a good girl.” he said looking back to the woman. “I’m trying to court you.” He rubbed his chin, “I better go.”

Mercedes watched him out of the corner of her eyes and she shifted on her feet. Watching him leave, but of course he stopped to speak once more to her. Expressing his feelings directly and she looked up slowly, she almost believed him but he couldn’t be telling the truth. It wouldn’t make sense, she was nothing and no one special.

#samcedes rp #thread #thread: moving in

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b4civility · 4 years

Text

August,7

fanfic based on the “teenage love triangle” on Folklore, “Betty”, “August” and “Cardigan”. Still releasing new chapters, stay tooned!

[NO WARNINGS]

summary: Betty doesn’t realize she is touching James the first time she does so. James doesn’t realize she is everything he wants the first time he paints her sink red. Alisson doesn’t realize she wasn’t part of the plan. August slipped away like a bottle of wine, as quick as it could,staining everything it reaches.

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Chapter 1: Betty

Whenever I have to pack, my head gets cloudy. Always seems like I got everything I need, except that the Object That I Take For Granted But Actually Use Everyday stays behind, like a bath sponge or a coffee pot. I know this will happen, but get a bit of a headache every time trying to fight it. All the boxes in mu checklist are checked, but this anxious feeling still buzzes inside my head.

‘Check under the bed to see if there’s something there’, mom says.

I check. There is, but nothing that belongs to me.

I am moving from a house of girls to another house of girls, but at least I get to have the unspoken individuality of my belongings, the entitlement to my schedule and to have “ I would rather not talk about it” or “I want to keep it to myself” as a legitimate answer this time around. My sisters are pretty sad about it- Skyler says she will miss my closet the most. “ So I am supposed to buy my own earrings now? How much do they cost? Do you try them on at the store? Is it ok if I get them wet by accident or will they be totally ruined?” she shoots at me as I finish packing my jewelry. “ Did you not care to not spill water on my earrings when you wore them?”, I ask, but she just looks away and plays with the ones that are in her ear, that are, too, mine. They are the silver with some dark green balls at the end. I stole them from a fancy boutique when I was 14, igniting my addiction to this accessory. I stole a couple more until the guilt finally kicked in,and then became an expert on finding cheap and not that bad ones at Aliexpress. I’ll just let her have it, looks better with her short hair than with my long one. Even though we have the same kind of curls, mine weren’t as defined as hers when I had short hair. A little bit shorter than the earrings, makes her look so edgy. She loves it.

Eliza, in the other hand, despites my wardrobe, but worships my baking skills. One Sunday or the other we bake together, she makes sour doo biscuits and I bake a cake. This is our stack for the week, and then we try a different recipe for the dessert that day. We have a nice dynamic in the kitchen by now-she hates making cake but loves eating mine and I feel the same way about her biscuits, ans since both of us have a sweet tooth, baking is taken very seriously under this roof.

The four of us get in the car, I get the backseat since Eliza is our official DJ (not that we gave her the title, rather she took it),plus, mom likes her by her side. Never have I ever sat behind the wheels when the entire family was in the car, for some reason mom would always get cautious about it when I asked if I could drive in these situations, even though I have been each and everyone’s chauffeur at some point.

Tomorrow, at this very hour, I would be waking up to none of them. The closest thing to not being a sister I ever had was before I was seven, when Skyler wasn’t born yet, the bedroom was all mine and dad only had one volleyball player in our backyard. The closest thing I ever got to not being a daughter when he left. I was 12, Skyler was 5 and mom was in no condition to deal with her and our loss at the same time. Grandma was around a lot for the next 2 years. I couldn’t say the same about our mother, even up to this date.

So I was reading her body expression, her smile at what my sister was saying about the music she chose, her thin neck, blurred by some hair strands that got out of her pony tale and eventually felt on her shoulders covered by her green cardigan, and how easily breakable her peacefulness appeared. Not because of my departure,no, she has been looking like this everyday since that last day. I don’t believe the other two ever notices that, not when they got their hands full with the colossal mess they make to get their older sister’s attention. It does work, I’m even moving houses because of it;college is just a social-acceptable excuse.

Three hours later we have completed our journey from Mendax to Verum, the college town just 20 minutes away from campus. Five other girls were to live with me, none that I have met yet, but their facebook page tells me I got another Political Science major in the house, two English majors, a biology southmore and soon-to-be-graduated journalist. I sort of hoped I was going to be the first one to arrive so I could get my stuff in place first, not have all the stubbornness that run through my family’s DNA thrown at them as a first impression and possibly bake a Homecoming/Welcome/If My Words Fail Me At Least I Have This Going For Me cake. Plus, I own Eliza this last/ first moment, so I’d ask for her help.

The house was unapologetically pink. The pastel tone suited the wood-revested building very well, so much it felt like Barbie Dream House: College edition. The family house energy of it, the immense porch space, the spacious interior corridors,two livingrooms and the hugh gress space in the backyard were the opposite of what you would expect of a college girls’ residency, yet everything you wish they all looked like. Besides, this was a very prospect location for an off campus party, so I think I got the upper hand with this one.

“ You are in a Barbie movie scenario for your entire graduation. I’m so jealous I can’t barely put it into words” Skyler said, staring at it, blinking as if she was waiting for it to disappear the next time she opened her eyes. “ Yeah,I will be sitting at the porch waiting to see if Ken shows up anytime soon,too.” I answered as I stood next to her, holding boxes. “Yeah, be sure to look very carefully for him at the massive Homecoming barbecue you guys are going to be having in this abnormous big backyard of yours”.So it was that obvious.” But don’t get attached to the first cutie you see, ok? Someone better could be just around the corner... ”. I don’t even want to imagine how her college years are going to be like. Probably a little cooler than mine; she always knows how to make a fun moment even funnier. Is it legal to bring your underaged sibling to a uni party?

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you in mind whenever I get more-than-two-dates invested in someone here”

Did Skyler really thought that my next romance would just fall into my backyard, like that?

Chapter 2: James

The sound of the wheels rolling on the concrete always get people looking, even when you are far from them. Anyone in top of a skateboard becomes a model in a suburban street, whose streets turn into a red carpet filled with paparazzi. I try to say something like “good morning” or “hello” to whoever I am passing by in an attempt to make my politeness overcome the annoyance of the loud noise, and convince myself that it works. Somehow, I often end up in a situation where it would be better not to be seen: whether is when I am riding my board and I get loud or in places I shouldn’t be attempting to land a trick at, or when I am pointing my camera at someone, trying to get a picture without them noticing. As if it isn’t happening for the hundredth time, I awkwardly pause, try to wave at them so I don’t come out as a stalker and gesticulating an apology all at once. People generally frown and move some place else, as a anyone in their right mind would. But only my headphones come with me for the ride when I know I will be taking The Pink House road. Two years ago I was riding by for the fourth time in the same week - ok, that was pretty stalker-y - getting shots of the house, the thing that struck me at first, and then the feature that actually grabbed my attention: the girls. There were four college girls living there, all who seemed so bubbly,so full of life, so enjoyable to the eye, so hot. By that time I had the count in my head, and one of them was missing. Didn’t mind much, got some rather good photos of Claire, the only one that I(oddly,but actually) knew. We made out at a uni party that I had sneaked in to the year before. As soon as I looked forward, A bloody face jumped in front of me,screaming, scaring me enough so that I felt in the concrete, scratched an elbow and hurting my feet.

“THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DON’T WEAR PROTECTION PADS!!!!! AND ALSO WHEN YOU ACT LIKE A CREEP FUCK,BASTARD!”

As I pointed my head to the sky, the bloody shadow took away the mask, to reveal the fourth girl missing. “I-I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to.. I was just… The house, I-”

“Oh God ,it’s a creepy kid”, she said, throwing a hand to help me get up. “ So just because you are a cute teenager you think you can spy on stranger��s house like that?!?”- she said I was cute- “Yo, it’s no stalker”- kinda was- “just a random kid with a camera. Partially broken camera, you might wanna pick that piece up”. That was the day I met Inez. We got quite acquainted since that day, and photographing a place that you are allowed in got boring after the first two times so we just became friends.

I searched for her, but instead saw a brown girl istead. A new girl. Someone I was not ready to see. I stopped breathing the second she raised her head and I could see her almond eyes better, the spark on her cheeks reflecting the sun. The next thing I knew I had my face on the concrete, with the same elbow scratched, again.

“Shit, are you ok? You're bleeding” she (yes, she!) said to me.

“I-I’m cool, I’m cool… you know,just...whatever, happens all the time and shit...” . My mouth doesn’t know how to work when my brain is in complete shock with the view, apparently.

“You should at least wash it, your elbow could get infected, come on inside” she said, as she held my hand and arm very softly. You could see she was trying not to touch the injury much, but I swear I wasn’t feeling my entire body.

Chapter 3: Betty

“I suppose we should have a first aid kit here, somewhere…”- he’s painting my sink in red as the water runs in the wound. What a way to start. “Eliza, Skyler, help me; you go look if you find anything in the bathroom and you, keep at the kitchen cabinets”.

“It’s on the upper shelf, actually”, he answers.

It was.What the fuck?

“So you live here now?!?!” I hear a voice from behind that isn’t my mother’s. It’s the biology major,even though she is blonder than her facebook pictures.

“I-I-I just… arrived…. I’m sorry he… I was just...” Was I ever going to come up with the right sequence of words to explain that I, a girl she never met, had got into her house with a bleeding,also strange boy and two teenagers running wild looking through her stuff? The chances are beyond unlikely,at its best.

“Not you, I was expecting you- I mean him”, she arched her eyebrows.

“Inez ! long time no see, girl!”, he replies with a sort of laughing, trying to lighten up the mood. I wasn't understanding one bit of what was going on.

“ You couldn’t wait for the party so you just brought it right in yourself, huh? Look at the mess you made in my kitchen! You know, I am leaving here next year so you better make a good impression of yourself for the other girls if you want to keep falling in our doorstep and getting aid”

“I don’t think I’m their first option but I can make it work, never smile at someone and didn’t get a smile back” he says softly, kind of taking advantage of it, as he smiles at Inez, and she tries to hold it, but smiles back. I smile a little bit too, but still- what the fuck is happening?!?!

“ You believe that your white teeth will get you anywhere, don’t you?”

“It got me aid the first time I ever felt in your doorstep. Also got you letting me teach you how to skateboard,which was super cool” he started sounding a little bit more teenager-y. How old was he?

“ I always wanted to skate, you just happened to have a skateboard”. The air in the room was decrisealing chaotic. What he did worked.

“Oh, like we were the only two people here, I am so sorry; hi, I’m Inez, welcome home,Beatrice!” she turns to me, shaking my hand, with a relaxed smile on.

“Thank you, you can call me Betty” He really softened the mood, the words even came out of my mouth normally.

“Ok, sure. I was meant to be here earlier but I had a salon appointment. But you met the house mascot already,so that’s one thing out of the list”- she points at this skater, sitting on the sink- “ This is James, he’s around more than he should. Do you need help? with the boxes?” And then I remembered of my sisters, running loose around the house and my mom, probably on the car outside.

“ My sisters and I got everything by the porch already, there aren’t many”

“Fine, I will just wrap up this skater’s arm in a band-Aid and then I’ll show you your room. Clem is your roommate. You are enrolled in political science too, right?”

“Yeah”

“Nice, I think you two will be quite a match then. James, get your board rolling outta here, you are done, you can stop scarring my new roomate.

“ Thanks, ‘Nez” he hopped out of the sink. “ It was never my intention to scare you. Nice meeting you, Betty” he gives me a quiet smile, looking into my eyes just for a second before looking at the ground. He ran a little bit down the hallway, got on the skateboard and went out of sight. He had this boyish posture, stubborn, unaware of his own size. His broad shoulders moved along with his waist as he strolled away. It was nice meeting you,too,James.

#folklore #taylorstans #taylor swift #original story #betty #august #cardigan #folklorefic august7

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jafndaegur · 5 years

Text

Paper Wings

Jumin x MC

This is a sequel to The Chains that Bind Us.

...whenever I start to want... to do bad things to me... I fold a paper crane for every thing I want to do to myself, and sew them onto a thread to hang where I can see them.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The door creaked open just a teensy bit as Jumin peeked into the room. Darkness shrouded the normally well lit study, and other than a sliver of light that winked dimly from the crack between the pulled curtains - there was no other source for him to see. But from the silhouette of MC, her back turned from him and her head bowed, Jumin supposed that she wasn't feeling well today either. It'd been a week since he had first found her on the ground, mid panic attack. From then on he noticed that whatever it was she was fighting in her head, it was only getting worse. His lip trembled just for a moment before he clenched his jaw and forced out a tight exhale. He regained his composure and he stepped into the room without much noise. His socks padded almost silently against the carpet. And yet when he crouched down beside his wife and gently ran his fingertips along her forearm, she hardly reacted.

First, she gave an owlish blink - lashes brushing over the dark rings of circles underneath her eyes. She didn't smile. Her right hand rested lightly upon his, but she refused to look at him.

Jumin's heart clenched.

"Would you like to go out?" He tried, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. "The weather is pleasant, and it may even rain later in the evening. I know how you love a good storm."

She shook her head. "I don't feel so good Jumin, not today...I'm sorry."

"Of course, dearest." His vision blurred, and he cracked a soft smile despite the growing chill and wetness at the corners of his eyes. "Just rest. I'd like for you to feel better."

No response came, and she rested her head back against the chair she had curled up in. Humming softly, Jumin stood and left, closing the door behind him.

He wandered around the penthouse for a little, trying to clear his mind. One of their plants wasn't facing the sun. He turned it around. The stool at the kitchen bar was sticking out. He pushed it in an inch. On the couch one of the pillows were misplaced. He moved it from the middle cushion to the right end. A blanket was folded wrong. There was a smudge on the window. A shoe had left a floor scuff mark. His sleeve wasnt pulled down all the way. One of the hall picture-frames were crooked. Bed unmade. Bathroom untidy. Seat. Front door. Kitchen. Study. Hallway. Floor. Couch...

He reached out to steady himself, and stopped.

A quiet mew drew his attention and he looked down to see Elizabeth the Third gazing up at him. Her big blue eyes widened and she wound herself around his legs, her tail flickering. Jumin sunk to the floor, and gathered her up into his arms, holding her against his shoulder as he buried his face into the soft fur close to her belly. A sob muffled against her fluffy pelt.

He couldn't fix this.

This was something even the great Jumin Han could not fix. With all of his money and his power, this was beyond his capabilities. Beyond his influence. Because no matter how much he wanted to fix his wife's pain, the only one who could do that was her. He could never force her. Never before and never again.

His breath rattled in his chest, and he bit back another sob.

Elizabeth kneaded her paws against his chest.

There was nothing for him to do. He gazed out dully, looking at the window and the city past it, that despite the warm afternoon light and the speckles of fluffy gray clouds on the horizon, he could only see gloom. There was no way to fix this. No way for him. He could only wish-

Wish.

He could only wish.

Scratching the back of Elizabeth's head, he set her down quickly. Stumbling to stand up, Jumin searched for his jacket before finding it and haphazardly tugging it on.

A hesistant glance was cast back toward the direction of the study. He felt the faint tendrils of a thread coiling around his throat. But before the string could tie itself any tighter, he took a deep breath, unwound the thread, and placed it in his pocket for another day, another time. MC needed him. And even though right now, she spoke with cotton in her mouth - all hidden and suffocated words - he heard her.

Ignoring the startled calls of his security guards at the front, Jumin quickly made his way out to the front where Driver Kim was on standby. The chauffeur started a bit at his boss' sudden appearance, but recovered quickly.

"Is there a crafts store, nearby?" Jumin huffed, sitting down in the back of the car.

Driver Kim slid into the front seat and started the vehicle. "Craft? As in a craftsman?"

"No, no. As in arts and crafts."

There was silence before the driver pulled away from the front and drove down a few blocks. A little store, like a daisy among roses, sat comfortably between all the other much larger office buildings. Jumin definitely would have defined it as quaint, but he hopped out of the vehicle and told Drive Kim he would call him momentarily. The old man gave him a confused look but nodded and went to find a spot to park.

Walking into the store, someone greeted him while a little bell signaled his entry. He gave a slight nod and began his search. It'd been a long time since he had ever made any, but he was sure all he needed was pretty paper.

Jumin finally found himself in an isle of packages full of precut colorful paper squares. A small waver of anxiousness filled his stomach. He hadn't realized there were so many types. There were even packages of thin strips of paper, hardly an inch wide. Did oragami really get that small? He reached out to grab one of the packets full of the strips when he felt a tug at the hem of his jacket.

Surprised he found a little girl holding onto him. Every muscle stiffened. Why was there a child? His eyes widened as he started to observe her more. She was shockingly little, and thin. Her nose was plugged with a breathing tube, while her free hand toted a little dolly with a canister attached. The child had decorated it with stickers and a cute keychain of a kitten.

His stomach felt sick.

"Mister, you make stars?" She asked, pointing to the paper.

"Stars?" He echoed. "These aren't for cranes?"

She shook her head, face serious. Turning to the rows of paper, she searched until she found a packet full of square sheets decorated with plumes of flora. She proffered it to him.

"I'll trade you, Mister," she looked at the package in his hand. "I'm allowed to keep jars of stars in my room. Just not cranes."

"Such a trade benefits the both of us..." he crouched down in front of her and offered her his own paper. "Do you know how to fold paper cranes?"

The little girl's eyes widened. "Do you not know?"

Jumin chuckled. "It's been a very long time since I last made any. I'm afraid I don't remember how."

"My mom is sitting on the bench outside." The little girl bit her lip nervously. "Do you want me to show you?"

"If your mother agrees," Jumin hummed. "What is your name?"

"Jati."

"Well Jati," he held out his hand, "as thanks, allow me to buy your paper."

She nodded eagerly, allowing him to lead her along.

In the back of his head Jumin knew he really should not just bargain with random little children, but the situation seemed just too coincidental to not mean something. He may not have been a practicing Christian anymore, but that didn't mean he'd refrained from the belief in divine intervention or fates' blessing. Perhaps that's what this was for both him and little Jati.

They walked out of the store chatting and still hand and hand until he caught sight of the mother, who immediately locked a death stare with him. At least until he guessed recognition set in. Because she went from fury, to anger, to shock, to mortification well within ten seconds.

"Jati," she scolded, standing up from her seat.

"This is Jumin," her daughter chirped, taking a seat in front of the bench after arranging her dolly to her preference. "He wants to know how to fold cranes! Mrs. Jumin doesn't feel so good, so he wants to make some for her to feel better."

The mother glanced at Jumin before she sighed and waved them off. "She gets cold easily, so you have less than ten minutes."

He gave her a gracious tilt of his head before kneeling down at the bench. Opening the packet of paper, he let the little girl choose her sheet before he selected his own. In no time at all, Jati walked him eagerly through each step, constantly looking up at him with a bright glance whenever he dutifully followed her lead. From the corner of his eye, Jumin noticed Jati's mother smiling wistfully, and he wonder just exactly who this small child created her stairway of wishes for - herself or someone else.

"It looks very nice, Mr. Han," Jati's mother said, handing her phone to her child. The little girl had wanted to take a picture of the two cranes together.

"It's not half bad," he agreed, before humming softly. "If you dont mind my inquiry...why isn't she allowed..."

"They don't want her hanging them from the ceiling," the mother murmured, watching with a sad gaze as her daughter fussed over the positions of the birds. "Her room at home is full of them though. Jati says she wants two wishes. That's why she folds the stars - she can keep those when she stays over at the hospital - and then the cranes."

"Is she there often?" Jumin wondered, hadn't meant to ask that out loud.

The mother hefted her purse a little higher. "If you don't mind me prying, I'd like to think we'd hear on the news about your wife being sick...how long has it been?"

"It's not anything that a normal hospital could fix, I think," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't offended, he'd snooped into her personal life - she had every right to snoop back. "If she gets help, she can make it better. But only she can."

Jumin paused and watched with a faint sense of endearment as Jati skipped back to return the phone.

"But I can always wish for the best for her," he hummed, gesturing to the cranes in the child's hands, "and help her along the way."

"Mister." Jati held out his crane, "here."

"I'd like you to have my first crane." Jumin smiled and pulled out his phone to text Driver Kim. "I hope it brings you closer to your wish."

The mother's face melted into something pained and gentle.

"Thank you!" Jati beamed.

Jumin dug into his pant's pockets before he found his wallet again. Fishing out a business card, he handed it to Jati's mother before he went to search for his chauffeur.

"Please reach out to me," Jumin gave a weak quirk of his lips. "If she needs a wish. She certainly aided me on my way to mine."

The mother bowed and thanked him with choked words.

The ride home for him was one he looked forward to. And even though when he entered the penthouse, and only Elizabeth greeted him, he was okay. Jumin searched around for a couple of candles, and he made a pot of tea - despite in normal circumstances he would have gone for a bottle of wine. He set their living room coffee-table with the paper and lights and hot drinks before wandering to the study.

Inhaling deeply, he entered without reserve. MC was as he'd left her, and even when she didn't look at him as he gently took her hand in his - he was okay.

"My love," he whispered, gently tugging on her arm. "Come with me for a moment."

MC blinked, gazed at him, before slowly unfurling from her curled position on the couch. She unfolded like a crumpled up paper in his hands, stretching out and lengthening as she stood to her full height. Jumin smiled and helped lead her to the living room. He would refold her, careful with every crease and every tuck - he would give her the paper wings she needed to fly away on her own.

#jumin x mc #mysme jumin han #mysme jumin #jumin han #stranger danger you guys #dont go up to a random ajussi and ask for origami #lol #hurt and comfort #phone memos story #angst

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get-your-fics · 5 years

Text

Violent Delights - Chapter Four

Playing Dirty

Summary: Bruce Wayne is addicted to a lot of things to distract from his dark urges, but his addiction to you might only increase them.

Pairing: dark!Bruce Wayne x reader

Series warnings: Violence, language, smut, rape/non-con, stalking, kidnapping, underage drinking, drug use, torture, abuse

CHAPTER THREE

The front door let out a quiet creak as I pulled it open as slowly as possible. I stepped inside the manor, the floorboards squeaking under my weight. I turned around and gradually pushed the door closed. It finally clicked into place, and the telltale sound caused Alfred’s head to pop out of the archway leading to the living room and into the hallway.

“Master Bruce, you’re home early.” He stepped into the hall tentatively and looked at me with hope in his eyes. “How was the charity ball?”

I let out an exasperated groan. “It was fine.” I shed my tuxedo jacket and shoved it into his arms.

“Did you find Miss (Y/L/N)?” His head followed me as I trudged past him.

“Yes, I did.” I lifted a hand and massaged my temples with my long, thin fingers. My head was pounding.

“Well, how is she?” he persisted.

With my back to him, I rolled my eyes. “She’s fine,” I grumbled, my words slightly slurring together.

His gray brows furrowed, and his lips twitched into a frown. “Master Bruce, have you been drinking?”

I leaned back against the wall, my head bumping into an old, dusty painting of a vase of lilacs. “What do you think?” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “You said my parents worked with her family, right?”

He wrung his hands. “Well, yes, a little bit.”

“So they would have her address on file.” I toed off my dress shoes.

He cocked his head to the side. “Possibly, but they wouldn’t be allowed to give out that information.”

I gave him a pointed look. “Alfred, look who you’re talking to.”

“Right.” He folded his hands in front of him and advanced towards me. “What do you want with her address anyway, Master Bruce?”

I tugged at my bowtie before it hung loose around my neck. “I don’t believe I’m allowed to give out that information,” I mocked. I sent him an antagonizing wink before stumbling into my room.

It was easy enough getting your address. All I had to do was call reception at the Wayne Enterprises building and tell them my name. After that, I had my chauffeur drive me in a town car with tinted windows to your home. Turns out it was about five miles from mine and in the same neighborhood of sprawling estates, so the drive wasn’t long. I had the chauffeur park across the street from the wrought iron gate sealing off the property.

Your home was a manor slightly smaller than mine. It had high, gray brick walls crawling with ivy and large, white-trimmed windows. The pointed roof was built out of cobblestone, and the garden was green and well-tended to. There were several neatly trimmed shrubs and a bubbling fountain in the front lawn. It was a lot cleanlier and livelier and more cared for than Wayne Manor was, well, at least that’s how it looked from my confined position.

I sat in my town car outside of the gates for a whole week from sun up to sun down, surveying and keeping track of the daily routine at your home. Unlike my manor, yours was constantly full of life. Maids and butlers and gardeners were consistently coming in and out of the front gate, but there was no sign of you. The only clue that anyone resided there at all was a sleek, black town car that went in and out of the gates. One time, I caught a glimpse of the passenger in the backseat, and from what I could see, she looked like a rich, middle-aged woman with bleached blonde hair. She definitely seemed like the head of the household.

I got sick of sitting and waiting for you to show up, so I drove to your estate as normal, but this time I was in a UPS van rather than my usual town car. It was easy getting them to let me rent it for an hour. If you threw enough money at anything, you could get what you want. I pulled up to the front gate and rolled down my window. I leaned out of it and pressed the buzzer on the gate.

After a second, a snooty voice asked, “What’s your business?”

“I’m dropping off a package!” I yelled into the speaker.

There was a pause, and then, “Go ahead.”

The gate buzzed as it swung open, and I fell back into my seat. I stomped down on the gas, finally able to drive past the iron gates that had kept me from you for so long. I pulled around the fountain in the middle of the circular driveway and pressed down on the brake in front of the door to the manor. I undid my seatbelt and grabbed the large, brown box in the passenger seat next to me. I kicked the door open and hopped out of the van, closing it with my shoulder behind me.

I jumped up the wide, brick steps and landed on the doorstep. I looked up at the tall, arched, double doors and sucked in a deep breath. Balancing the cardboard box in one arm, I pulled my cap bearing the UPS logo down lower to shield my face. I hit the doorbell and listened to the satisfying ring reverberate throughout the inside of the large manor.

I heard muffled footsteps drawing closer and closer to the door from the inside. Then, the door opened, and the woman I had seen in the back of the town car poked her head out. “Hi! Are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” I asked in a bright and cheery tone.

“No, I’m her mother.” The unnaturally wide smile on my face nearly faltered. Your mom? But I thought you said you were an orphan? “May I help you?”

“I have a package for her.” I lifted the box in my arms higher. “Is she home?”

The woman’s glassy eyes raked over my uniform, and her thin lips pulled taut into a straight line. “No, she’s not.”

“Do you know when she’ll be home next then?”

“She doesn’t live here anymore,” she snapped. Rude. Your mom wasn’t very nice to innocent delivery men. “Who is the package from?”

“Uh...” I pretended to read the label I had printed out at home. “It says it’s from Gotham Children’s Hospital.”

Her expression softened slightly. “Oh, it’s probably a thank you gift. My daughter is the fundraising chairman of the (Y/L/N) Corporation. She gives a lot to charity,” she said with a condescending smile. Your mom liked to brag, didn’t she? “I can hold onto it for her.” She started to reach for it with her frail arms.

I pulled it out of her grasp. “I’m sorry, but I need her to sign for it. Do you have an address I could forward this to?” I flashed her a polite smile.

She studied me intently for a moment before relenting. “Wait right here.”

She left the door open and retreated into the mansion. Her stiletto heels clicked against the polished, wood floors as she walked down a long hall, leaving a cloud of expensive, jasmine perfume behind. She turned into a room off of the hall, and I took the time to examine the foyer. A large, winding, marble staircase led to the second floor, and a ginormous, crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling. It would be almost too easy to walk in and do whatever I wanted, but this place was of no use to me anymore.

Your mother returned with a slip of paper in hand. “Here’s where she lives now.” She held it out to me, and I took it from her. “I’m surprised they didn’t have her new address already, but knowing that girl, she probably forgot to update it. She’s always so busy giving back to the community.” She settled her hands on her hips.

“Right.” I forced one more painful smile. “Well, thanks for your help. Have a good day!”

“You too. Goodbye.” She quickly shut the door.

The smile slipped from my face the second she was concealed from view and a smirk formed in its place. Your mother was dumb, gorgeous, but for once I was thankful for someone’s stupidity. Your mother just handed me the golden ticket, and it would lead me straight to you.

The address scrawled onto the slip of paper took me to an apartment building in the center of Gotham. It wasn’t too far away from Wayne Enterprises and looked very sleek and modern. All of the walls were made of glass, which made it easy for me to locate you in the penthouse at the very top of the building. I could only imagine the rent cost an arm and a leg, but as the chairman of an internationally successful corporation, I’m sure you had more than enough plus a little extra. I wondered why you had felt the need to move out of your family’s manor. Maybe it was because you liked having a sense of independence, even if Mommy and Daddy were still the ones making your millions.

For a girl with a practically made up job, you kept a pretty busy schedule. You woke up every morning at the crack of dawn and got ready for the day. Your town car pulled up around eight in the morning, and you climbed into it wearing a designer dress or fitted pantsuit. You were always adorned with jewels worth more than most mens’ bank accounts. You started your day by grabbing a vanilla latte and a slice of coffee cake from Roosevelt’s before heading off to whatever you had scheduled for the day. During the week, it was tedious board meetings, lunches planning fundraisers, and dinners spent convincing snobby millionaires who inherited all their money to give to the less fortunate that kept you running from restaurant to cafe to conference room and back again. The weekends were reserved for benefits and galas and charity balls where you charged up your black card until the amount reached seven digits.

I had to admit, I enjoyed watching you strut around with your nose in the air and a sway in your hips. You exhibited the same confidence you had that night in the Towers, but now it had more of an authoritative air to it. I could see us now, me, the billionaire CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and you, the savvy, charitable businesswoman and future Mrs. Wayne.

I was still curious as to why you felt so indebted to give. The people around you sure didn’t. Your mother certainly didn’t seem like the giving type, considering the way she treated me and how she hardly left her luxurious estate. I wondered what had inspired you to write check after check to people in need. Or were you running from something, gorgeous?

You sashayed out of the lobby of your apartment building dressed in a checkered suit, a pair of Ray Bans shielding your eyes from the blazing, summer sun. Your town car pulled up to the curb at the same time, and you ducked into the backseat. I watched the car peel down the street and out of sight before I got out of mine. I crossed the road, narrowly dodging oncoming cars, and slipped inside the glass doors of the building.

The lobby was rather empty except for a few people and a security guard. Luckily, I fit in with the environment of the building and its posh residents in my black turtleneck and fitted pants. I walked straight past the security guard and towards the turnstiles barring the elevators from me. I took my fake apartment pass out of my pocket. It was pretty simple to make it a few days ago using all the technology Wayne Enterprises had to offer. Still, I held my breath when I scanned it, and only released it when I heard the beep and pushed through the turnstile with ease.

I shoved it back into my pocket and approached the elevators. I jabbed the up arrow button with my pointer finger, and a second later, the light above the middle elevator flickered on. A ding sounded as the metal doors slid open, and I stepped inside. The button for the penthouse lit up when I selected it, and the doors clicked into place behind me. The elevator jolted slightly when it started to ascend, but the ride quickly smoothed out as it climbed up the skyscraper.

I watched the number of floors tick higher and higher until the elevator finally came to a stop. The doors parted, and I stepped out into a small hallway leading to a single door. I glanced around, making sure no one was watching me, before I pulled out a pair of black, leather gloves. I slipped them on as I walked towards the door. I took out my lock picking kit and bent over, getting to work. After a little bit of testing and tweaking, I heard the telltale click of a lock opening. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, and the door gave way.

I stepped inside the penthouse, my dress shoes squeaking against the light hardwood floor, and took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh, like lemons and lilacs and laundry detergent. I kicked the door closed and locked it behind me. I glanced down at the heavy, silver, Cartier watch on my wrist. I had approximately four hours before you would come back and regather your wits in between meetings. Four hours to do whatever I wanted in your home.

Maybe my behavior was starting to border on psychotic.

The living room was open and airy with a breathtaking view of the cerulean sky and Gotham City skyline out of the wall of floor to ceiling windows. There was an L-shaped, white leather couch in the middle with a few gray pillows haphazardly thrown on it. A potted succulent and a copy of George Orwell’s The Road to Wigan Pier gathered dust on a glass coffee table. A large flatscreen tv was mounted to a white wall. After digging through your DVR, I found that you didn’t really watch a lot of tv, which made sense, since you didn’t really have the time to. The only shows you had recorded were a couple of dramas, some family sitcoms, and the occasional guilty pleasure reality tv show. Titles by Howard Zinn and Upton Sinclair lined the shelves of an overcrowded bookcase, and a few Rothko paintings hung on the wall, bringing in a little bit of color to an otherwise monochromatic room.

Next was the kitchen. It was situated right beside the living room in an open concept style. The cabinets and cupboards were made out of glossy, white wood and didn’t have handles. You had to push on them before they opened. The countertops were clear and shiny from a recent cleaning, and what little dirty dishes there were had been stacked in a pile in the sink. Overall, it was extremely tidy and neat. The only thing out of place was a half-drunk glass of water sitting on top of the island. I guess you had run out of time before you could drink all of it this morning. I picked up the glass and drained the rest of its contents before putting it in the sink for you. You could thank me later.

I moved into the dining room right off of the kitchen. I knew you used it for some of your fundraising dinners and board member meetings. There was a pair of glass, double doors that led out to the patio. I could see a grill that I doubted you used, some tables and chairs, and lounge chairs surrounding a rectangular pool filled with crystal blue water. The surface perfectly reflected the sun and the clouds so it looked you like you had the sky in your patio.

I took the see-through staircase to the second floor. It led me to a small landing with two doors. I chose the one on the left, and I opened it to reveal your bedroom. However, it wasn’t decorated with personal or sentimental belongings. It looked more like a hotel room than somebody’s bedroom. I walked across the white fur rug and collapsed on the king-sized bed that was the focal point of the room. It was impossibly soft, like laying on a cloud, and I rolled around in the white duvet, messing up the articulately made bed. I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to fuck you on this very bed, to hear the sounds of your moans over the squeak of the springs and leave imprints of our intertwined bodies on the mattress and dampen the sheets with our sweat. My eyes snapped open. I was getting hard already, and I had to stay focused. I couldn’t attend to my needs just yet.

I got off of the bed and smoothed out the covers before heading into the attached bathroom. The walls were covered with gleaming, white tile, and the floor under my feet was made out of cold marble. The wall of windows had a large, white curtain drawn over it to keep passersby (but mostly me) from seeing in. There was a walk in shower big enough for three people to fit inside comfortably. The shower head was a metallic rectangle installed in the ceiling that let down a drizzle of water similar to rainfall. I took my time smelling your body wash and shampoo and conditioner, all of the products that made up your delicious fragrance that I had become so addicted to.

I walked over to the sink. Above the counter was a mirror that had a string of lights around that, when turned on, gave the perfect lighting I assumed to do your makeup. I bent down and rummaged through the cabinet below the sink. I found a lot of hair care items, bottles of perfume, boxes of tampons, and lotions. I saw a little green packet in middle of it all and picked it up. Birth control. From the looks of it, it had been recently used. Good to know. I put it back and closed the cabinet. I stood up and looked at the sink. There was nothing on the counter except for a single toothbrush. I took it out of its holder and ran my tongue over the bristles. I could still taste the minty toothpaste you had used this morning. I wondered if this is what your mouth would taste like when I finally kissed you.

I replaced the toothbrush and turned into the other door attached to your bedroom. It led me to a huge walk-in closet probably as big as most college dorms. Garments ranging from your everyday dresses and suits all the way to luxurious evening gowns hung on racks lining the perimeter of the room organized by item type and then color. There was an island in the middle that contained all of your designer purses, high heels, and priceless jewelry. A small chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling cast white light down on the closet. I scampered over to a plain laundry basket tucked into the corner of the room. I fell to my knees and sorted through the contents until I produced a pair of black, lace panties. I buried my nose in them and breathed in your scent. My eyes closed, and a smile came over my face. I could tell they had been recently worn.

My blood ran cold when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I lifted my face away from your underwear and glanced down at my watch. “Shit,” I whispered under my breath. I had lost track of time.

I only had enough time to shut the door and turn off the closet light before the door to the bedroom swung open. I peaked through the slats in the door to see you walk in, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand and panting from exhaustion. You dropped your purse at the foot of your bed and threw your phone on your duvet. It bounced once on the mattress before coming to a rest.

“Why is it so hot?” you murmured to yourself. You kicked off your oxfords and shimmied out of your checkered suit jacket. Then, your fingers went to the buttons on your white, chiffon blouse. My eyes widened as I watched you undo button after button, each one that came undone revealing more of your smooth, unmarred skin. My cock twitched in my pants, and I started palming myself to ease some of the tension.

You finished unbuttoning your blouse and let it hang open. You shrugged it off and discarded it carelessly to the floor. My gaze raked over the exposed skin of your stomach to the rise and fall of your flushed chest. The swell of your breasts could barely be contained by the cups of your pushup bra. My erection was painfully restrained by the fabric of my pants, and I couldn’t take it anymore. As quietly as I could, I unzipped my pants and pulled my hardening cock out of its confines. My hand was still gripping your panties, and I wrapped them around my length as I started to stroke up and down.

You toed off your socks and walked over to the full length mirror in your room. You stood in front of it with your back to me, and I could see your reflection look over itself. You pursed your lips and pinched the skin of your stomach with your fingers. I wondered if you were self-conscious. You had no reason to be. I couldn’t understand how you could see yourself as anything but gorgeous, gorgeous.

You bent over and tugged your pants down your legs, giving me a perfect view of the curve of your ass. The region between your legs was covered by a gray thong, and my hand sped up. Something about the possibility of getting caught in the act thrilled me and only heightened my arousal. Drops of sweat ran down my face, and I bit my lip to stifle my moans so hard that I could taste blood. I imagined touching your soft, warm flesh, letting my hands trail over your curves, covering every inch of skin with my mouth. I imagined tearing that thong off of you before pressing you up against the wall and fucking you senseless until you were begging and screaming my name.

You stood up and reached for the clasp on your bra as I came. My release coated your lacy panties, and I leaned my head back. I couldn’t help the small moan that escaped my lips as euphoria washed over me. It was barely audible, but my pulse quickened as your head snapped in the direction of the closet. You drew your brows together, and the sound of blood rushing filled my ears as you slowly made your way towards me. I was stuck, glued to the spot, and my limbs were frozen. I had no clue what to do.

Just as it seemed like the end for me, your ringtone drew your attention. You stopped in your tracks, and after a second, walked over to your bed, shaking your head. You snatched your buzzing phone off of the duvet and accepted the call before holding it to your ear. “Hello?”

I tucked myself back into my pants as you listened to the speaker on the other end. “Yeah, sorry, I was in a meeting earlier. That’s why I couldn’t return your call. Yeah, I know I’ve been busy lately. I’m sorry I keep cancelling, but there’s not really anything I can do about it.”

God, whoever you were speaking to was really clingy. “Look, we’re still on for tonight, right? Dinner at seven?” I halted all my movements. This person didn’t seem like one of the rich people you cyphered money from. Who were you going to dinner with that wasn’t me?

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you there.” You paused as the caller said something else. A laugh tumbled from your lips, a real, genuine laugh, and I narrowed my eyes. I wanted to be the one to make you laugh like that! “Okay, I have to go. I have another meeting to get to. I know, I know. Bye, Brant.”

The air was sucked out of my lungs. Wait. I knew that name. Brant? You were having dinner with Brant Jones? The guy who had beaten me up along with Tommy Elliot back at Anders Prep, and then teased and taunted me relentlessly in front of Grace and Emma Hsueh? You were choosing to spend your time with that sleaze when you had me at your every beck and call?

I waited as you got dressed and grabbed your things, and only when I heard the front door slam shut did I come out of my hiding place. I stashed your soiled panties in my pocket for later use. I needed to confirm if my suspicions were true. I dashed out of your room to the other door across from it. It opened to an orderly office. This room was a lot darker than the other rooms. Thick, black curtains covered the windows, and bookshelves packed with even more books bordered the walls. In the center of it all was a grand oak desk. Neat stacks of paper took up the desk space, and a Mac laptop rested on top of a pile of manila folders.

I pushed aside the padded desk chair, sending it rolling across the room, and I combed through the assortment of files and documents on your desk. Finally, I found what I was looking for. I lifted a worn, gray, moleskin planner from off of the desk. The cover was creased and wrinkled from so much wear and tear. I pulled the elastic band keeping it closed off and flipped to the page with the ribbon page marker stuck in the spine of the planner. It was an overview of the whole month, and I went back a couple of weeks to the day after the Falcone Home and School for Orphans charity ball. Sure enough, written down in black, fountain pen was “Dinner with Brant.”

You had turned me down for some half-wit who leeched off of his trust fund? I couldn’t understand it. My eyes scanned over the next couple of weeks, and “Dinner with Brant” was written down in a couple more places and crossed out a few times. I landed on today’s date, and there it was again: “Dinner with Brant” in neat, precise handwriting.

There was no doubt about it. You were dating that ugly, foolish piece of shit! How could you decide to be with that hideous asshat with a brain the size of a walnut? I physically winced as I imagined you two doing anything remotely sexual. He looked like a garbage fire next to me, and yet you would rather date some repulsive, vile creature who did nothing but crawl around from club to club and beg until he could get in and then drink until he couldn’t remember his own name. What could you possibly see in him?

I shouldn’t blame you. It probably wasn’t your fault. There had to be something else going on. Someone as perfect as you couldn’t willingly choose to be in a relationship with him. Maybe you were forced into it, or maybe he was abusing you. The thought of him laying a hand on you made my blood boil. He had already exhibited some pretty controlling behavior already. Though, I guess I wasn’t one to talk, since I was standing in the middle of your office uninvited and all.

But there’s no other way around it, gorgeous. Your boyfriend has to go.

CHAPTER FIVE

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x you #dark!bruce wayne #playboy!bruce wayne #gotham imagine #gotham #gotham fanfiction #gotham fanfic

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achtung-attitude · 5 years

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CHAPTER 23: Abraxas - Part 1

Moya is thinking about the ocean when Shizuka finds her, standing alone on the grass beneath the overpass between Post Way and Sepulveda Boulevard, just beyond the terminal complex. “What are you doing here?” Shizuka asks, with a serious expression.

Moya looks at her. “... Getting out of the sun. What are you doing here?”

“I told Jerome to go on without me. I felt… I needed to talk to you.”

“... What is there to talk about? You asked for the truth and I gave it to you.”

“You did. I just wanted to say that I’m grateful…”

“Grateful? All I did was give you bad news.”

“It was the truth. I hope I can rely on you going forward, but I understand if you can’t- ”

Moya squints at her. “What are you talking about? Going forward? Towards what? You’re not… you’re not seriously still going after T’onga, are you? After what I told you!?”

“... You know why I’m in LA.”

“To reunite with your mom! To… reconcile with her, be a family or whatever! Right? I thought I made it clear, that is not going to happen! Not with T’onga, not ever.”

“That’s ok.”

Moya stops, and frowns. “... What?”

“That’s ok,” Shizuka says, candidly, “I’ve known since I got here that my mom might not be a good person. She might even be an evil person. That doesn’t matter, because I don’t want anything you said from her. I already have a family. All I want… all I need from her is the truth. About who I am, where I came from. So that the dark spot from the beginning of my life can finally be brought into the light.”

Moya stares at her. “... You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“Nope!”

Moya stares at her, for a long time. For a while, she can think of nothing to say. Finally she declares, “I’ve got enough nightmares. Seeing you get killed would send me over the edge. I’ll see this through with you, as far as I can.”

“Y-you will?” Shizuka asks, her smile returning.

“Yeah. Of course, it’s easier said than done. I wasn’t lying before, there are players in the Congregation that are beyond dangerous. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to help. Plus, with Tarantula dead and me AWOL, they will be coming down on us. Hard… What’s so funny?”

Grinning, Shizuka shakes her head. “The last time you told me that, that was the exact moment Tarantula showed up!”

“That was just bad timing—!” she begins, then trails off. In the distance, coming up Sepulveda is a sight that makes her blood run cold. She quickly steps in front of Shizuka, to her confusion.

It is a gleaming white Cadillac limousine with silver hubcaps which seem to glow like ultraviolet lamps in the intense glare of the sun. On the hood is a large silver ornament in the shape of a swooping eagle, light gleaming off its metal talons. It slows as it approaches them, stopping right in the middle of traffic, forcing a trail of cars to stop and raises a chorus of angry beeping.

To this tune, the occupant of the vehicle steps out. She must duck her head low to fit out of the door, and when she stands at her full height, the beeping gradually fades out. Like something pulled from ancient folklore, she stands as large as life itself, clad in silver and blue, her face covered by a mask decorated with white flames.

“Phantasma…” Moya says in a harsh whisper.

Phantasma stares at her, her gaze like a hail of bullets. “Moya. You helped to kill Tarantula. You’ve betrayed me.” The woman in the blue mask raises her right hand. WITCH MOUNTAIN flickers in and out of being behind its users, but Moya herself does not move an inch. Deliberately, Phantasma points at her and says one word: “Challenge.”

Moya winces and shuts her eyes, looking down. She clenches her fists, then releases them and her breath in a shaky sigh. “Challenge accepted,” she replies.

“Huh?” Shizuka says as Phantasma lowers her finger and strides back to her limousine. “I’m sorry, what’s happening now? Moya, is… is that really the lady you mentioned back at the mansion? The… your boss? Why is she wearing a mask? ...Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“... I gotta go… I’m sorry,” Moya says, wiping the sweat off her forehead. She looks straight ahead at the limousine, of which Phantasma has left the door open. The masked woman sits inside, waiting.

“Go? Go where? You can’t be serious…! If that’s really the woman you were talking about, then … I don’t know what her, like, deal is, but I can tell she’s strong just by looking at her! You can’t go alone…!”

“NO!” Moya snaps, turning her head furiously to Shizuka. “You are NOT coming! You are not going ANYWHERE near that woman!” Shizuka is struck dumb by the sudden outburst. “I have to do this alone, and you will stay right here. You are not strong enough to fight her. I won’t have your murder on my hands, got it!? … Goodbye.”

Moya turns away, giving Shizuka no option to not get it, and stomps to the limo. She clambers inside and looks at the Joestar girl once more, making sure she is still standing there, before shutting the door. It slams shut and echoes around the interior. It sounds like a coffin nailed shut.

Phantasma taps on the glass dividing them and the drivers side, signalling the chauffeur to move. The interior of the Cadillac is immaculate, the upholstery lined with rich Corinthian leather, and the whole cabin is made as cool as a tropical lagoon by the air-conditioning. Moya shivers, but also sweats. She sits hunched over in her seat, hands clasped tightly between her knees. She keeps her eyes on her feet, away from Phantasma sitting across from her, legs crossed.

The masked woman presses in a leather-clad panel in between the fine seating, and this opens to reveal miniature drinks cabinet. She takes a bottle of tequila and pours it into two gleaming crystal glass tumblers, then presents one of them right in front of Moya’s face. She says nothing.

Slowly, Moya takes it, fighting hard to keep her hand from shaking. She feels as though the air itself is crushing her.

“Salud,” Phantasma says, raising her glass and sipping on the alcohol.

Moya raises her own glass and downs the fiery liquid, holding it in both hands. She stares at the glass. The tinted windows make it impossible to tell which way they’re going.

“How long?” Phantasma asks.

“... How long what?”

“How long have you been a traitor?”

“... How do you know that I am? Maybe I was there to help Tarantula.”

“Tarantula himself long suspected your loyalties were in question. He came to me some time ago, but I dismissed him. Promised to kill him should he doubt you once more. But now he is dead, and my sources confirm witnessing you assisting in his murder, on the rooftop of the C-King mansion.”

“Alright. Then maybe we found the place together. And maybe, we figured out they were the wrong guys, but Tarantula felt like killing them all anyway, because he was a fucking lunatic who turned on me when I tried to stop him. Or maybe I was just tired of his shit.”

“Maybe,” Phantasma says, “but that isn’t the truth.”

“... No, it’s not.”

A heartbeat passes in silence. “How long?”

“... 6 years.”

Further beats pass. The ice in Phantasma’s glass clinks. “... 6 years…”

Moya nods, sitting back in her and looking off to the side.

“... Since you came back…”

Wordlessly, Moya slowly pulls her badge from her back pocket, presenting it to Phantasma like a naughty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The masked woman reaches over, taking the badge from her hand and studies it. Her expression cannot be discerned, but Moya believes she sees the corners of her mouth twitch downward. That is all. She tosses the badge to the side, losing interest. She opens her mouth, then closes it, then takes another sip of her drink. Then, “... And that… girl, in the face-paint? How does she fit into this? I doubt she’s your superior. Much too young, and… liberal…”

“She doesn’t fit into this,” Moya says quickly, “You must promise to leave her be.”

Phantasma stares at her. “Must I?”

Moya swallows once. “… She stumbled her way into our world, chasing fantasies. Just some little girl who started clinging to me after I showed her a bit of kindness. She had no part in Tarantula’s death… or my betrayal.”

The masked woman leans forward in her seat. “Tarantula’s murder. Do you feel nothing for the loss of, if not a friend, then a comrade?”

Moya grimaces, then forces herself to lean forward, meeting Phantasma’s eyes. “Tarantula was evil, and he knew that someday, somebody would take him. The last words out of his mouth was a prayer to his bloody idol. He got what he wanted. He had no regrets… And neither do I.”

This hangs in the air. The two women glare at each other for some time, each waiting for the other to break the eye contact. Like gun-fighters, waiting to see who will make the first move.

It turns out to be Phantasma. Slowly, she reaches her hand into her jacket and produces a silver cigar case. She takes a cigar from inside and lights it, inhaling deeply and releasing a cloud of thick grey smoke, swiftly dissipated by the air-conditioning.

“You and I,” she begins, “were once… very close. And I do not forget, even when others do… In memory of that bond, the final kindness I do for you is to honor your request. While I live, no harm will come to that girl.”

Moya sighs shakily, and bows her head. “... Muchas gracias…”

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #achtung attitude #shizuka joestar #moya pezzente #phantasma juarez #ch23

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eottoghe · 5 years

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Little Boxes - Eleven

A Jeonghceol Domestic AU where they live in suburbia with their six year old son Chan. Jeonghan is an active member of the PTA, a soccer dad and chauffeur, and a supportive parent all around. His loving husband cares deeply for his passions and will follow him to the end of the world if it keeps him and his family happy. Follow their journey as they get caught up in fun and zany adventures when they fall outside of the guide lines of your average neighbor. Don’t really know where I’m going with this, but I want to see how many different domestic prompts I can get out of this AU before I run out of steam.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

NOTE: This takes place before all the holiday stuff. I just can’t plan for shit and write too slow lmao.

Autumn begins to settle in quickly. Warm sunshine accompanies a light breeze. The leaves start to change color and ever so slightly dangle from their branches, ready to fall. It’s sweater weather and warm tea time, but not quite cool enough for fluffy coats and mittens yet. With the sky being so clear and the temperature being just right, Jeonghan decides to take Chan to the park. Other parents in the surrounding area have noticed the scenic day and have brought their own kids to the playground as well. It’s relatively full. Not too much so that he couldn’t easily keep an eye on his kid, but enough to where the other kids could keep Chan company. Once too many has Jeonghan gotten stuck on a slide because Chan just insists on racing with him. He watches from the sidelines and lets him be a rowdy six-year-old for once.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for Jeonghan to garner some unwanted attention, so he puts on a fake smile to greet a parent that frequents this area. She’s rather distracting and he couldn’t remember her name if he tried, but she doesn’t seem to notice. He doubts she even realizes how annoying she is. Or if she does, she probably finds it charming. Apparently, she is in the PTA too but is a little more reserved so maybe that’s why he doesn’t remember her. He cuts his eyes between her and Chan (they call him overprotective, but he says its just diligence). She mentions something about saving pictures in her phone about some hot dad from the bake sale. Before Jeonghan can effectively pry into her gallery, he hears a shout that sounds all too familiar.

His heart stops, stomach drops, and he hurriedly hops over some children just to get to the source of that scream. He starts panicking once he sees his son on the ground in front of the swing sets. He’s got a skinned-up knee and a bloody palm and his crying echoes through the park achingly. Jeonghan runs over and immediately picks up the boy, checking his face for any life-threatening injuries. He sighs when he sees none. A flurry of questions and hushes come out of Jeonghan, instantly soothing the boy.

“What’s wrong baby? What happened?” He’s bouncing Chan on his hip and through broken cries and hiccupping he hears him say something about a girl pushing him. He connects the dots and sees some long-haired child around his kid’s age swinging merrily back and forth. Once Chan sees her again, he begins to cry more, burying his snot covered nose into Jeonghan’s shoulder. The dad knows he should just take the younger home to get him all cleaned up, but not before giving this brat a piece of his mind.

“Excuse me. Can I speak to you for a moment, sweetie?” It’s clear Jeonghan is a bit upset but tries to keep a calm demeanor so as not to trigger the parent that is sure to be lurking. If they are not monitoring their child like they should be, he’ll take that step for them. If they won’t discipline them, he will. A good scolding is necessary otherwise they’ll never learn. The girl continues to swing but does at least look at him with a bored expression. Kids can be so rude these days. “Now I know you probably didn’t mean it...” Even though Jeonghan knows damn well she is old enough to know better, “ …but it’s not nice to shove others aside to get what you want. Pushing someone off a swing is unacceptable behavior.” She has the nerve to yawn, “I’m sure you wouldn’t want your mom or dad to know what you’ve been up to, but I think it’s best if I talk to one of them.”

Before Jeonghan can even ask for the kid to point out their parent, he hears a vicious voice bark out, “Why are you harassing my daughter?"

Jeonghan is so offended because he’s not the one doing the harassing! “Harrassing?” he begins to tell them off, but when he turns around, it’s like the whole world comes to a full, screeching halt. Fate is on some fuckshit today.

Jang Doyoon. Age 28. Number 19 on Jeonghan’s hit list.

Don’t be fooled. Just because he’s 19, does not mean there’s any less of a loathing for him. In fact, Jeonghan’s list is quite long so he’s still somewhere around the top 20%. It’s just Jeonghan’s luck that he runs into him after so long. It’s a small world (and at this moment he wishes he was on the opposite side of it).

Once, long before, Jang Doyoon seemed hellbent on ruining his whole life. He’d transferred to the same university as him and maybe it was some kind of territorial defense mechanism that had Doyoon making every encounter absolutely terrible. Jeonghan almost fought him once the other “accidentally” bumped into him with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in his hands. Even more, he didn’t even say sorry after staining his blouse and causing minor burns. Oddly, Jang Doyoon vanished after that. Jeonghan never questioned it, just closed that chapter in his book. Jeonghan hadn’t thought anything else of the boy.

That is… until now.

The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. He mentally rolls up his sleeves, pulls up his big boy pants and prepares to stand up to the bully he never had the chance to.

“When my son was using the swing, your kid pushed him off.” His tone remains polite yet challenging. Jeonghan is a cordial man with a short temper. His soft exterior shields unsuspecting people from his true wrath.

But Jang Doyoon has accepted the challenge. “Well did she have reason to do so?”

Jeonghan is like a cauldron of molten lava now. His brain stutters, not believing the audacity this man has to ask a question like that. “What did you just say?” He raises an eyebrow.

“If your kid is hogging the swings, don’t you think it’s only fair to take turns?” Jeonghan can tell his cattiness has remained intact all these years later.

“I guess delinquency runs in the family.” Jeonghan leans in real close and his voice gets real low. “If you or your spawn of Satan ever comes anywhere near my child again, I will personally hand your ass over to you on a silver platter.”

Jeonghan makes sure he has a firm grip on Chan, the six-year-old still clinging tightly in his hold. He makes a dramatic exit, not once glancing back at the man who triggered his inner Mama Bear. There’s a cloud of dust in his wake and a couple stunned parents fishing for new gossip. If Jeonghan were to retell the story, be sure to expect explosions in the background, fire—lots of it, and a man quaking in fear.

On the walk home, he’s speaking sweet words to the child easily winding him down. Chan’s still shaken up, never really having been the focus of a bully’s rampage. His bawling has now turned into slight sniffling. He’s just too kind for this world. Jeonghan feels awful that someone so mean could target his precious baby. He hopes Chan never has to see her again (and that he never has to see her father).

He sits Chan on the counter of his bathroom once they get home. Chan knows how it feels to get cuts cleaned. It makes him want to cry all over again at the memory of it. It was too similar to his bike accident a few months ago. He never wanted to go through that again, but here he is. His dad reaches toward him with a cotton ball. He knows it isn’t water soaked through it because water doesn’t burn. And the smell is never that strong. He flinches each time it gets closer.

“I need you to be still, baby. It’ll take longer to clean if you keep moving around.”

“But it huuurts…” The pout is so much like Seungcheol’s that Jeonghan has to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“I know. I know. But it’s the only way to make it better. Can you be a big boy for me?” That seems to do the trick as Chan stops fidgeting on the counter and sits up a little straighter. His eyebrows flatten out into a line as he mocks what he thinks determination should look like. He’s already cried so much today. He wants to be a big boy who doesn’t have a fit when the stinging, burning water like thing gets too close. He nods.

But the contact makes all of that go out the window. He yelps and kicks his leg in surprise. His pout has returned and his wide eyes swell with brimmed tears. Thankfully Jeonghan catches his leg before he gets kicked. Holding it in place, he dabs the wounds a few times and fully cleans up any remnants of pebbles and blood. Even when Chan starts crying again and trying to shy away, he holds fast and tries not to let it affect him as much. It’s hard though. Seeing Chan cry and knowing he’s the one causing the pain makes his own heart wrench. He feels so guilty that he wasn’t able to protect his baby in the first place.

“I’m almost done. I’m so so sorry.” Jeonghan croons. The six-year-old’s fists come to tighten in the collar of Jeonghan’s shirt, an attempt to distract himself.

Jeonghan finishes up with Spiderman decorated band-aids. It’s the only good thing of this whole ordeal because Chan finally smiles seeing one of his favorite superheroes. They don’t have any plans for the rest of their day so Jeonghan thinks it’s a perfect time to watch cartoons and let Chan eat snacks and ice cream before dinner for once.

Next Chapter

#jeongcheol #jeongcheol fanfic #jeongcheol parents au #jeonghan #seungcheol #s.coups #cheolhan #coupshan #seventeen #baby chan #if some bitch pushes my brother off the swingset #imma fight them deadass #lee chan #dino

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arckook · 6 years

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under the willow tree - lucas oneshot

pairing: wong yukhei/lucas x reader

au: rich kid

warnings: minor character deaths

word count: 22.4k

description: You have what many would consider the perfect life- endless money, a loving family, and a best friend that you know will never leave your side. But when your parents die in a mysterious car crash, everything you thought you could be sure of suddenly has no certainty.

You are of the opinion that adults really don’t realize how hard eight-year-olds have it.

It’s a thought that crosses your mind repeatedly throughout the impossibly long car ride to the airport, then in the impossibly long plane ride across the ocean, and when you got back in the car to drive home.

Adults don’t realize that your favorite place is your grandparents’ modest (modest to you, but you don’t realize that until you’re older) home in the dreamy climate of southern California, and only spending the three or so months of summer vacation that you get there is nowhere near enough time. You don’t want to go back to Korea, and you don’t want to sit still for that many hours on end.

But as you expected, your parents just placate you towards the end of the second car ride with some cookies they got at the airport and a smile, promising you that the chauffeur will drive quickly to get you home.

The car pulls up in the long, circular driveway in front of your estate outside the city of Busan, where your family goes when there’s not much business to be done. You like the estate because of how it at least isn’t in the big big city like your other house is- the penthouse suite in Seoul is too high up and the view of busy people constantly around makes you feel weird. You’re young, and you like that you can run around in a backyard and pick flowers and do whatever, so you always drag your parents into staying at the estate.

It’s only as you arrive there that you feel less antsy, and less annoyed with your parents, since they carefully get you out of the car and let you take the elevator up to your room (usually they make you climb the stairs, insisting you not be lazy just because you can be).

You jump right into the bed that’s too big for you, a new maid you don’t recognize coming in just to draw the thin curtains around your bed with a soft smile and turn the light off. For a moment before you drift away into the milky darkness of sleep, you wonder why you haven’t seen her before- after all, you like to keep track of the nice ladies who help you out around the house when your parents aren’t there. Despite your wonder, though, the long voyage has you tired beyond belief, and drawing the blankets up to your chin, you fall into unconsciousness.

School doesn’t start for about another two weeks, which is both a dread and an excitement for you. Firstly, a bore, because you’re really not sure what to do for these two weeks alone. Your older brother hadn’t come to America with you and your parents, because of his summer studies in Seoul, and your dad had left last night to go stay with him, so there would be no beach trips, because your mom hates the beach. So, you’ve deduced, you’re going to be extremely bored until you have to get back to Seoul to start school.

The excitement comes from not being in Seoul. At least you can be bored out in the fresh, salty air that blows in from the ocean water not too far away. It’s better company of nature than Gangnam, so you can’t complain too much.

However, your idea that you will be alone, and therefore bored, is cut short the very afternoon after you come home.

You’d spent the day lounging around, waiting for your mom to be done with paperwork in her office, and after a seafood lunch splayed out for you too artistically for an eight year old to really appreciate, you ended up in the expansive backyard.

You’ve never done much exploring in the back, since your mom was afraid you might get lost if you go out too far. After all, the backyard is just very well groomed grass and carefully placed selections of trees that extend until the property line too far for you to see- the fact that it’s so large probably being why it makes your mom nervous.

Despite that, nearby the house are paved walkways lined with short hedges and flowerbeds, and some wooden benches scattered under trees. You stick around those places, bringing a book in English out with you to practice reading it under the shade.

You settle down on a bench under some willows, the long spindly branches almost cocooning you away from the outside world as you shift around, trying to get comfortable. You finally stop in a position where you’re on your back on the bench, feet stuck through the hole made by the opposing curves of the wood and the wrought iron armrest on one side.

“Charlotte’s Web.” you read aloud to yourself, feeling the words form on your lips. English isn’t uncomfortable for you, especially since some of your cousins can’t communicate with you outside of it, but sometimes the sounds feel strange as they pass your lips. You’d learned a lot this summer, and don’t want to forget, so you’ll force yourself to read the whole book out loud to nobody.

You take a breath, opening your mouth to start the first sentence of the book, when a similarly young voice mirrors what you’d just said.

“Charlotte’s Web,” repeats someone who must be in front of you, in English that sounds a little more awkward than yours. You shoot upright, the book dropping to your lap as your eyes fall on a boy who can’t be much older than you, if he is at all; hair the color of nearly-burnt caramel sweeping across his forehead, head tilted to the side curiously, his eyes so dark they look black in the shade crinkling up in amusement as he registers your surprise.

“What?” you blurt, thoughts of speaking English slipping away. The boy laughs heartily at your exclamation, purposely dropping to the ground and crossing his legs casually.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” he replies. Oh, good. At least he speaks Korean, even if he does have somewhat of a slight accent.

“I mean…” you start, then frown a little. What do you really mean? “I was just surprised.”

The boy nods, remnants of his laughter still on his tanned face. “I see. Why?”

You raise your eyebrows, sitting a little straighter. “Are you serious? Why? You appeared out of nowhere!”

“Nowhere seems a little dramatic,” the boy shrugs. “I was right over there.” he gestures with his head to the kitchen's entrance to the house.

You purse your lips. “Well how’d you get there?” You’re sure you’ve never seen him before.

“My mom started working here a couple weeks ago. She told me this morning that your family came home last night, so I went looking for you this morning.” he tells you, reclining back on his arms folded under his head.

You hum, then remember the unfamiliar woman in your room last night. “Oh! I saw your mom. She turned off the light in my room yesterday.”

The boy scoffs. “You need someone to do that for you?”

You frown, suddenly feeling a little attacked. “Excuse me?” Someone has always done that for you, and for your brother, too. It’s not weird like he’s making it seem.

He peeks up at you from his lazy place on the grass. “Ever thought about it? You know normal kids don’t have people to do easy stuff like that for them.”

“Normal?” you repeat, feeling more and more annoyed. “Are you saying that I’m not normal?”

“Of course you’re not,” the boy says like you should have already known that. “You’re rich.”

“And you’re rude,” you snap, huffing a breath out and turning up your chin at him.

“Good one,” he replies, sarcastically, and suddenly you want to throw your book at his stupid head.

You’re pretty much about to, when the nice lady from last night pushes the hanging branches of the willow behind her and steps in.

“Hello, young lady,” she addresses you with a sweet smile, then turns to the boy, her face switching instantly to a disapproving expression. “Yukhei, didn’t we talk about how you can’t just run around without telling me where you’re going?”

Yukhei. So that’s his name.

“I was looking for her.” he replies, sitting up and pointing at you. You huff again.

“Don’t you know that pointing is rude?”

“I don’t care,” he shoots back, crossing his arms.

“Well you should!” you hiss, grip on the book tightening.

“Kids,” the woman intervenes, and you immediately shrink back in embarrassment at how you’d acted. Your mom would’ve told you off just then. “Yukhei, you can’t just antagonize other kids when you barely know them.”

“Can’t is one thing, shouldn’t is another,” Yukhei replies without an air of concern. You roll your eyes. He really is insufferable!

The lady sighs, but a smile crosses her lips. “Alright. Say goodbye to Miss Y/N, maybe you can start again on better terms tomorrow.”

He seems to get the idea, and stands up, not even brushing the grass off of his pants. “Bye,” he says in your direction, with no remorse at all.

“Psh,” you mutter under your breath, and don’t respond.

The lady laughs again, then puts her hand on Yukhei’s shoulder and quietly leads him out of the area under the tree.

The next time you see Yukhei is three days later- you’d purposely not gone outside and pretty much stayed in your room or in the library during them so that you’d have no chance to encounter him.

However, your mom tells you on the third day that if you’re going to complain about leaving the estate and living in Seoul that you better be enjoying your time in Busan.

So you put pants on instead of the usual skirt and decide to teach yourself how to climb a tree.

The trees outside are a lot more daunting when you’re standing under them compared to what you were imagining in your head. The weeping willow you’d had your encounter under before seems good, since there’s one shorter branch you think you can reach before going up higher, but you figure the thing must be at least a thousand feet tall.

Well, actually, you have no clue how tall trees are, but it looks pretty high from here.

You walk around to the side where the lower branch is, and instantly, your mood drops.

“Are you kidding me?” you say before you can even think. Because there he is- Yukhei, the insufferable boy that you’ve been avoiding- sitting on the branch you were going to climb!

He looks down at you, and you’re expecting a sour reaction, but he has the same amused smile from when he first talked to you a few days ago. “Surprised to see you back here.”

“I live here.” you state, eyes narrowing.

Yukhei laughs, throwing his head back, and you frown in confusion.

“What’s so funny?” you question, hands on your hips.

“Sorry I was mean to you before,” Yukhei says, effectively surprising you. “I wasn’t expecting you to fight back when I teased you.”

Teasing? That’s what he calls teasing? You’re tempted to let him know just how off his definition of that word is, but you just sigh to yourself, imagining mom encouraging you to be polite.

“And why’s that?” you ask instead of reprimanding him for his poor vocabulary.

He shrugs, swinging his legs over the branch so he’s facing you completely. “Don’t know many girls.”

You roll your eyes. “So you thought a girl wouldn’t argue with you.”

“Well, you proved me wrong, so…?” he trails off with a cheeky grin, which makes your annoyance fade away way too quickly.

“Whatever,” you say, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “You’re in my tree, though.”

“Your tree?” he laughs again. “It’s a tree. It can’t be anybody’s.”

“Yes it can,” you say smugly. “My parents own this whole place, so it’s my family’s tree.”

Yukhei seems to think about this for a second, before another bigger smile breaks onto his face. “So what you’re saying is it isn’t your tree, but your family’s?”

For whatever reason, your second meeting with Yukhei changes your mind on him. He likes joking around with you, pressing your buttons and seeing how frustrated he can get you before bursting into laughter, which usually makes you laugh too. His mom, who had in fact been the same lady (you were right, you might add), sends the two of you off to explore the property in the morning and makes you snacks throughout the day, and you and Yukhei become quick partners in crime.

It’s why you’re even sadder than usual when barely two weeks later, your mom comes into your room with a sympathetic smile and your essential things already packed, saying it’s time to go back to Seoul.

You share goodbyes with Yukhei, who assures you that he’ll still be there when you all come back to the estate for winter break later in the year.

Throughout the rest of your childhood and adolescence, you don’t make many friends in the same social class as you. Before you met Yukhei, you’d had somewhat of an idea that you and him came from different worlds- you, daughter of a multi-millionaire couple with a business empire that you and your brother would inherit, and Yukhei, son of a maid at your parent’s estate and a teacher who remained back in China where he had come from. Despite this, you only realized how your friendship with Yukhei had changed you when you got older, and possible friends gave you strange looks when you mentioned your best friend back in Busan, asking questions like “why would you hang out with someone like him?”. You realized that you had grown up a little different from other kids at your private academy- you had grown up knowing what a life outside of yours was like.

And that brings you to being sixteen, a grin on your face that you just can’t wipe off as you get close enough to see the Busan property in the flattened part of the valley.

“You’re always so excited,” your brother Jaehyun says to you from the driver’s seat, chuckling. He’d insisted on driving, since your parents had the chauffeur in Seoul and had to make quite a few more stops for business than the two of you. It was just easier this way, he’d argued, but you think he was hoping for some peace and quiet instead of the intense classical your mom likes to turn up in the car.

“Duh,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Yukhei and I are going to go to the beach tomorrow. We gotta plan out what we’re going to do while we’re there.”

“The beach?” your brother asks incredulously. “It’s like, 23° outside.”

“So?” you say, shrugging. “He really wants to, and I like the beach too, so.”

“Pshh,” Jaehyun says, looking sideways at you with a vague smile. “I think he just wants to spend some time with you.”

You want to shove him, but you’re not sure how much to trust his driving skills, so you just stick your tongue out. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Manners,” he chides, but you know he’s not really trying to reprimand you.

Jaehyun parks the car on the long circular driveway that’s so familiar to you, and you practically jump out with the one bag you bring between your two residences.

You don’t have to look far for who you’re thinking of, because there at the very edge of the lawn in front of the house is Wong Yukhei.

He stands with the unshakeable confidence that he’s always had, hands tucked into the pockets of his baggy pants tucked into heavy work boots- he’s been helping out with gardening on the weekends and during breaks for two or so years now. He brushes through his hair with a grin full of anticipation as you make eye contact, lifting up one hand in a cheeky wave.

On the inside, you’d like to run over and throw your arms around him in greeting, but there’s other employees around as per usual to welcome you and Jaehyun home, so you just speed walk with as much grace as you can, bowing your head politely to others that you pass until you finally reach Yukhei, Jaehyun chatting with everyone else and leading them into the house to give you some privacy.

“Hiya,” he says, ruffling your hair as you stop in front of him, a smile you can’t even consider losing spread across your lips.

“Missed you,” you say, and he just laughs to himself. “What?”

“We facetimed like two days ago,” he replies, then reaches over and takes your bag as you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be dumb,” you try to take back the bag, but he’s already slung it over his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

He laughs again. “Of course.”

Yukhei’s mom, who you greet with a big hug and are given some kisses on the cheeks in return, made you and her son a simple lunch, sending the two of you off through the backdoor with a blanket to sit under your favorite weeping willow.

“So,” you say when the two of you settle down, Yukhei pulling out your favorite meal of jajangmyeon in two thermoses and some side dishes, spreading them out between you. “How’s life?”

“It’s good,” he breaks your chopsticks for you and passes over the food. “I don’t know if I told you yet, but my dad is visiting in few weeks.”

Your jaw drops just as you’re about to slurp up some noodles. “Are you serious?”

You’ve never met Yukhei’s dad before, or even talked to him. Telephone calls with him never happened around you, and you respected that. All you know of him are some family photos from when Yukhei was really young, since he’s lived here since he was eight.

Yukhei nods, humming in confirmation. “I guess you’ll finally meet him.”

You frown- he sounds almost bothered by that statement. “Isn’t that a good thing? I’ve never met my best friend’s father and now is the chance.”

He looks down, sighing, which only confuses you more. “I’m just…” he sighs again, deeper, brushes through his hair with his fingers. “I guess I’m just nervous for him. I don’t want- I’m not, I’m not saying you’re like this, Y/N, cause I know you’re not, but… I don’t want you to think less of my family when you meet him.”

Your eyes widen, food practically forgotten as you stare at your best friend while he avoids your eyes, fiddling with his chopsticks. You can’t help but feel a sudden sense of regret and sadness, wondering what you could have done that he even considered you might look at him differently because of his father’s working conditions. You’ve known Yukhei and his family aren’t exactly in the best place financially, but he’s always turned down any help you’ve offered and you’ve always tried to be understanding and disregarded the social classes meant to separate the two of you.

Another smaller part of you is a little offended that he thought that of you, but you push that away. After all, you don’t know what it’s like being in his situation.

He must have noticed your expression, because Yukhei quickly sputters an explanation. You purse your lips, setting down the food, and interlocking your fingers solemnly.

“Yukhei,” you cut him off, and he looks up at you with concern. You sigh. “I thought we both knew there was never going to be any judgement. I’d never…” you sigh again, frustration leaking into the release of breath.

“I know, but-” Yukhei starts, but you keep talking.

“I don’t know where you got that idea, but you should really get rid of it. I’m never going to think of you any different than I think of other people. Actually no, that’s not even true. I think so much higher of you than other people- everyone at school only tries to be friends to make connections or because they know I have more money than them or they know I have a summer residence or whatever they know- and they’re the kind of people I think less of because they have no fucking personality!” you shake your head in exasperation. “But I’m never going to think less of you or your family because you’re never going to be like that, okay?”

A moment passes in silence, and you look down, a little nervous that you’ve said too much. You and Yukhei tend not to talk about just how opposite you are on the spectrum of wealth often, because despite how much you want to laugh when he jokes about how much money you have, it usually just makes you feel awkward. You also don’t usually talk about the other people you know, your classmates, since you feel like the more he knows about your life in Seoul the less he’ll see you as the you that he knows.

A chuckle breaks you out of your thoughts, and you look up in time to see Yukhei clambering over and wrapping you up roughly in his arms, tousling your hair as he laughs.

“How did I ever doubt you?” he says through his laughter, and you can’t help but smile too, leaning into his familiar embrace.

The next morning, you wake up in your baby blue king size bed that’s still too big for one person and feel a rush of excitement when you remember what you’re doing today.

You get ready faster than ever before, skipping on makeup since you’ll probably be in the water anyway and getting your hair out of your face carelessly. You try on a few different swimsuits, trying to decide which one is most appropriate for the weather, before you pick a one piece with a halter and some kind of light pink pattern across it, and figuring there’s a chance you’ll be cold, you put on a jumpsuit instead of the planned sundress.

You make it downstairs by nine am, finding Jaehyun and Yukhei in the dining room talking over some breakfast.

“Good morning,” you say to announce your presence, and they both look over, Jaehyun just rolling his eyes while Yukhei smiles.

“Ready to go so early?” he says, standing to pull out a seat for you at the table.

“Ooh, what a gentleman,” Jaehyun teases, a smirk lining his face. You roll your eyes and sit down while Yukhei just laughs.

You prefer sweeter things for breakfast, having gotten used to it in the summer days and weekends spent in California, where the only savory breakfast food is eggs and potatoes, and sometimes meat. So you don’t neglect to notice the sugary parfait and chocolate waffles laid out for you on your first day back to Busan.

“Where’s your mom?” you ask Yukhei as you dig in. “I want to thank her.”

He shrugs. “She didn’t cook, I think she went to town since it’s Saturday.”

Your lips form an o shape, nodding.

Breakfast passes smoothly, Jaehyun excusing himself after around 20 minutes telling you that he has a big finance project due tomorrow that he has to get started on, so you and Yukhei finish together in peace.

Once you’re done, the head butler Shinhae tells you to be extremely careful on the road and not to fool around (you get a little rosy at that comment) and to be home by the evening. He sends you and your best friend off with the same kind old-man smile you’ve seen your whole life, and you get in the car with a similar smile on your own face.

Your parents aren’t back yet, which means your regular chauffeur isn’t either. You called up a different chauffeur (well, Jaehyun called) to take you to the beach, and he drives with earphones in instead of playing music in the car. It’s a little weird, but you and Yukhei have a laugh about it and settle into casual conversation,

You talk about how exams went for the both of you- Yukhei has always hated school and didn’t try at all, but the smile that lights up his face when you tell him you think you did well makes it seem like grades are all he wants to hear about. You’ve grown up trying not to complain too much to him about your classes, since that brings up the conversation of what you’ll have to do once you graduate high school. Which is, inevitably, go to college, and unlike Jaehyun who has an abundance of friends equally as rich as you to make his college life in Seoul interesting and beneficial for the company, your parents want you and your practically-fluent English to study in the U.S. for your bachelor’s degree.

Obviously you have enough money to come back to Busan every weekend if you really wanted, but you doubt you’ll have the time or energy once you’re a business student. And you really hate thinking about a future where you can only talk to Yukhei in person once or twice a year.

The beach is only about an hour and a half drive, and it passes fairly quickly. The chauffeur drops the pair of you off near the shore, telling you he’ll being around the quiet beach town you’re in and to call him when you’re ready to leave. You shoot him a thumbs up, and once he nods and turns away, you pivot and race down the steps, not looking behind you to see if your best friend is following.

“Yah! L/N F/N! Are you crazy?” Yukhei shouts after you, and you hear his footsteps on the wood echoing your own.

“You know it!” you call back, hopping down the last step onto the sand. You quickly remove your flip-flops and stick them in the duffel bag you’d brought along, eager to feel the warm sand between your toes and along the curves of your feet.

Oof!

You stumble forward when a way too strong for his age young man crashes into you like he calculated with how much force to do so. Yukhei wraps his arms around your shoulders and takes the bag from you wordlessly, looking out at the ocean water in front of you.

“So pretty, huh?” he comments. You look up at his face and see an expression so full of wonder and curiosity that your heart tugs.

“It is,” you pat his hand on your arm so he lets go, and grab his hand on your other side instead, leading him off so you aren’t standing in front of the entrance. “I’m not sure where the yacht is right now, but I’m sure we could bring it out sometime.”

He snickers at that, and you realize how that sounded- one of your “rich kid moments” as Yukhei called them.

“Or we can just do this again and come to the beach like teenagers do,” he suggests humorously, and you cringe, offering him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. Can’t help it.”

“I know,” he ruffles your hair, then points to a fairly empty spot on the beach. Well, the whole beach is fairly empty; after all it’s the beginning of summer so there aren’t many students or tourists, just a few families scattered around. “Let’s set up there?”

You nod, and realize you’re still holding hands as he walks over, faster enough than you that you end up a foot behind.

Yukhei sets up the umbrella and your chair, dramatically complaining the whole time that you’re using him for his muscles and you should be paying him for this. You’d wince but he’s the one who stopped you from helping in the first place, telling you to enjoy your beach trip without doing ‘hard labor’.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t bring a chair for yourself,” you chide, sitting down as he pulls a towel from your duffel bag and throwing it out over the sand next to you.

Yukhei grins up at you. “A chair is a place for a princess.”

You roll your eyes, groaning. “Stop. You’re so annoying.”

He reaches up and pinches your cheek, then sinks back down and throws his shirt off in one swift movement, tugging his towel away from the shade of the umbrella and settling down in a relaxed position. “Changed my mind, I think I’ll tan over here.”

“Tan?” you repeat, bewildered. “Did you put on sunscreen?”

“I don’t need sunscreen, the sun loves me.” You groan, reaching down and digging through the bag until you find the bright orange SPF bottle, throwing it at Yukhei’s head. He yelps dramatically and you throw your head back in laughter.

Once Yukhei has laid back down, you take a deep breath, wondering why you’re suddenly so nervous to shed your jumpsuit and be in the swimsuit you’d chosen in front of him. Something about the mood and how it’s just you two gives you a weird feeling that you don’t usually have around Yukhei- when you glance over at him and see just how much older he really looks right now you feel heat rise to your cheeks. Or maybe that’s the literal heat from wearing a jumpsuit at the beach.

Gathering up your confidence, you take off the jacket first, folding it carefully and placing it in your bag. You look at Yukhei in your peripherals and see that his eyes are shut, so you quickly slip your pants off and stuff them in the bag, hopping back onto your beach chair.

“You’re jumpy today.”

Your head snaps over to see Yukhei hasn’t moved, but the ghost of a smile lines his lips after he spoke.

“What?” you say, but you know he’s right.

He chuckles. “Ah, you’re cute sometimes, Y/N.”

Your eyes open wide and the heat in your cheeks is back as you whip your head away from him and put your face in your hands. What is happening? Seriously!

You pull out your English copy of Charlotte’s Web from the bag and try to pretend like that little interaction didn’t happen.

As you expected, Yukhei lasts about thirty minutes before deciding he’s bored of “not doing anything” and drags you from your seat, insisting that you go in the water.

“But we need to watch our stuff!” you exclaim as he pulls you down the shore. “What if we get distracted and our phones get stolen?”

“Buy a new phone, princess,” he teases, spinning you around randomly in the sand to get you to smile. “You can afford it.”

You roll your eyes but don’t stop him when he lets go of your wrist and starts chasing you down the edge of the water, cupping his hands to fill them up and throwing water at you shamelessly as you yelp and hop away, laughter ringing in the air.

Yukhei manages to drag you waist deep, taking both your hands and interlocking your fingers as you turn round and round in the water, feeling sand puff up around your ankles.

“We should swim,” he says on your fifth rotation. You snort in disbelief.

“The ocean isn’t for swimming.”

He looks at you incredulously. “So what the hell does it exist for then?”

You shake your head. “Pools are for swimming, the beach is for… hanging out at the beach.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I came to swim,” Yukhei states firmly, which you snicker at.

“Go swim then, Prince Charming,” you let go of his hands to tap him on the cheek. He scrunches up his face and pouts.

“Without my princess?” he reaches for your waist but you dance just out of his reach, water splashing up around you.

You laugh, starting back towards the sand. “I’ll watch our stuff. Enjoy yourself, okay?”

Seemingly accepting that you won’t join him, Yukhei smiles in response and starts wading the opposite way, deeper into the ocean water.

You dry off your lower half once you’re back at the umbrella, pulling your phone out from your bag and checking to see if you have any notifications. You don’t, so you put it on your lap as you sit down and continue reading, occasionally looking up check that he hasn’t gone and drowned during your fun beach trip.

You think it’s probably been about thirty minutes when your phone starts ringing, the loud tune of TVXQ’s Mirotic (yeah, you had never really gotten over that song) playing from between your legs where your phone had fallen.

You scramble to get it, hoping not to disturb any other beachgoers with the (amazing) song playing at such a high volume. Seeing that it’s Jaehyun who’s calling, you swipe accept and put the phone to your ear.

“Need help with your project already?” you joke, dog-earing the page of your book.

“No, Y/N, this is serious.” he responds, his voice sounding thick and scratchy like he’s been crying. Immediately you sober up, sitting straighter and listening closely.

“What?”

Your brother takes a deep, shaky breath before speaking. “Our… Mom and Dad, Y/N, they…” he trails off and panic sets into your chest, forcing you to stand.

“Jae, what the hell happened?” you snap, clenching the hand that’s not holding the phone.

“They crashed.” he manages to choke out, and suddenly Jaehyun’s not keeping it together anymore and your strong older brother is sobbing over the phone. “They crashed- and they, they were- the ambulance came but they were already-”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “No, Jaehyun, fucking stop it right now. Stop fucking with me right now.”

He doesn’t yell at you, or tell you to stop, or tell you it’s true. He just keeps crying, hiccups and strangled sounds coming through to your ear.

Your stomach drops, and you lifelessly fall back onto your chair, barely remembering to stay on the call in case Jaehyun needs you.

Your parents are dead.

Your kind, understand parents who have shaped such a perfect, worriless life for you. Your parents who encouraged your friendship with Yukhei over the other rich kids because they believed he was genuine enough for you. Your parents who without hesitation spent months in the heat and cramped house of your grandparents in California, year by year, for you.

They’re gone.

“Y/N?” Jaehyun’s weak voice comes through, snapping you out of your trance. “Y/N, are you there?”

“I’m here,” you reply quickly.

“You need to come back to the house.” he croaks. “We have to… we have to figure something out. I know I’m older and I should be strong but… but I can’t be alone.”

“I’ll be home.” you assure him, already pulling out your clothes and shrugging them back on, hurriedly flinging sand off of the towel on the sand. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

“Okay,” you can imagine Jaehyun nodding. “Okay. Text me every ten minutes?”

He wants to make sure you don’t meet the same fate as your mom and dad. “...Yeah. I will.”

“Okay. Bye.” he says, sniffling once more before hanging up.

You’re halfway through trying and failing to fold up the chair, just about screaming in frustration inside your head, when a hand on your shoulder stops you in your tracks. You whip around to find Yukhei- oh, Yukhei. How can you tell him this?

His eyes are full of concern, his grip on your shoulder telling you that he knows something is wrong.

“What happened?” he asks lowly, as if he’s afraid to speak louder. You can only stare into his eyes, lip trembling, not having shed tears yet but feeling them burn along the rim of your eyes. “Y/N, what happened?”

“We need to go,” you manage to respond, voice shaking so obviously that you’re surprised you can even talk. “We need to go right now. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N-” he starts, drawing you closer, but you push him away.

“My parents died. That’s what happened.” you swallow down your tears as you turn, kneeling down to get a better view of the chair.

Yukhei gasps softly behind you- you can tell he was trying to make it subtle, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Your hands are shaking as you look for which part to fold, but they’re being pushed gently away just a second later.

Yukhei kneels next to you, wrapping up your hands in his and pulling you into a tight embrace, pressing your face against his shoulder. He doesn’t talk, and you manage not to cry, but both of you know you need him then. You need him not to talk, you need to just wrap your arms around the base of his neck and let him squeeze your waist so that he’s close to you, and shut out the way your world has just fallen apart in the span of five minutes. You need his comfort so that you might not fall apart too.

You stay there for a while before the sense of urgency from before hits you and you gasp out a “we need to go”. Yukhei pushes you away from the stuff, telling you to call the chauffeur and tell him to pick you up right now, no questions asked, and that he will pack everything up.

By the time the chauffeur arrives, Yukhei has just finished with the things, and quietly hauls everything but the bag slung over your shoulder up the stairs as you race up before him.

“Back to the estate,” you tell the chauffeur in a rushed, breathless voice as soon as the car door opens. “We need to get back quickly but drive as safely as possible.”

It’s with that little detail that Yukhei is clued into what happened to your parents. The ride back is silent, but he wraps his arm around you and turns your face into his shoulder once again, asking the chauffeur to please put on some calm music. He texts Jaehyun for you, assuring your brother that everything is just fine.

You feel sorry for just a moment after you jump out of the car with nothing but your phone the second it parks in front of the house, knowing you’ve left Yukhei without even a goodbye, but that feeling is gone right away.

Even though your parents hadn’t been here when it happened, or even here recently, knowing they’re gone makes the grand mansion loom in front of you like a gray part of history, the beauty of its construction overshadowed by the fate of its owners.

You rush to the front door, it opening for you by the time you’re halfway up the steps leading to it, Shinhae looking at you from the doorway with a somber expression that you try to ignore. You bow your head to him, then speed past as he steps away, not even caring who sees you run through the entranceway to the main staircase, bolting up the stairs faster than you ever have before, and down a series of hallways until you reach your brother’s room, where you’re expecting he’ll be.

You knock three times, calling out that it’s you, the door flings open immediately, and then your brother’s arms are around you, squeezing the life out of you as he wraps his fingers around the fabric of your jacket in desperation.

Multiple members of the staff employed at the estate come by Jaehyun’s room throughout the day, but the two of you ignore everyone but each other. You’d decided right away that you would contact all your family that didn’t already know tomorrow, and then contact the heads of different sectors of the business to see what their thoughts were in terms of what to do about the sudden lack of two joint CEOs. You’d also have to check your parents’ wills, in the safe in your dad’s office which only Jaehyun knew the password to. Not to mention, do something about going to Seoul to the mortuary that they’d been taken to, and figuring out something with a funeral or…

You have a lot to do. So much that the stress of the day and what is to come brings you and Jaehyun to an agreement that just for a while, you’ll put off living the nightmare you’ve been thrown into, and just stay together.

The next week is the hardest week of your life. You know you can’t see the future, but you also can’t imagine anything that could happen that would hurt worse than becoming an orphan before you had any time to accept it.

You and Jaehyun spend as little time in the mortuary and funeral house as you can, organizing the funeral in just an hour so you can get out of that building in which the air is thick with freshener, covering up the stinging stench of death. Jaehyun stays in Seoul, though, knowing he has to arrange a meeting for the future of the business.

When you come back to Busan, your father’s brother and his wife are there waiting for you. They greet you warmly and with teary eyes, telling you and your brother not to worry now that they’re here. They handle the talking to your relatives, sending out messages detailing what happened to your mom and dad and the date and location of the funeral.

You spend the time that you’re not talking to Jaehyun on the phone or with your aunt and uncle holed up in your room, door locked and curtains closed. The idea that life is moving on for other people even though you’re missing two of the most important people in your life is unbearable, so you push the rest of the world away.

Yukhei and his mom try to come up to see you every single day, desperation for you to answer more and more evident as every day passes, but you can’t see them. You can’t see anyone. You just flip through photobooks with pictures of your parents, unable to stop the waves of tears that hit you in bouts of ridiculous pain- you’re so worn out after you cry that you sleep, and when you wake up everything seems gray. Over and over again.

Jaehyun finally comes home, and your aunt and uncle sit you down at the dining table, having sent all of the staff away so it’s just the four of you.

“So,” your aunt, Seoyeon, begins, adjusting her glasses as she sighs. “What kind of conversation did you have with the department heads, Jaehyun?”

You and your brother share a momentarily confused look, having expected this to be about your parents and staying together as a family, not the business.

“Well,” Jaehyun starts, frowning slightly. “They seemed to agree me and Y/N will take over as CEOs once we’re both a little older, so until then-”

“Ah, of course,” your uncle Sungjoo cuts in. “The two of you are just so young. I never expected my brother’s children having to take up this terrible burden at such an age.”

Aunt Seoyeon nods, humming. “Your father mentioned to us a couple times that if this were to happen, we should step in and take over until you grow up a bit. It’s why we came so quickly.”

You cock your head, practically speechless.

“In both mom and dad’s wills it says that Y/N and I inherit the company if they were to die.” Jaehyun states, raising a brow. “And I’m becoming an adult next year, so there shouldn’t be a problem with that.”

“But you’re a student!” Aunt Seoyeon exclaims, a deep frown creasing her forehead. “Sweetie, there’s no way you can get your degree and run a multi-million dollar business at the same time.”

“Maybe not, but the officials at the head office will be there to guide me and support us until Y/N and I can fully take over.” Jaehyun argues, shaking his head. “It’s what mom and dad wanted.” “I think what they would have wanted more is for their children to finish growing up,” Uncle Sungjoo says, sighing deeply. “Of course, we’ll consult your grandparents in California first, but this is the right choice for us and for the company.”

You and Jaehyun share another incredulous look, and Jaehyun scoffs, standing abruptly.

“I’ll get the law involved if I have to. It’s our business, not yours.” he snaps, then leaves the room, a cold and awkward feeling setting in with his absence.

Your uncle looks at you like he’s expecting you to say sorry, but you don’t. And you won’t.

“When are my grandparents arriving?” you ask instead. Your uncle frowns.

“Arriving?” he repeats, and you frown.

“Yes, for the funeral.”

“Ah,” Uncle Sungjoo nods. “Well, we’ll look into booking them tickets.”

But for whatever reason,a feeling of distrust settles into your chest, and later, after you’ve managed to get back upstairs and be with Jaehyun, you buy your grandparents’ tickets yourself, sure that they would not make it to the funeral otherwise.

It’s the next week when Yukhei finally catches you.

You’re walking down the hall from your room to get to Jaehyun’s as quickly as possible in an effort to avoid your aunt and uncle when a hand lands on the crook of your elbow.

You yelp, jumping away instinctively, but you catch sight of who it is as soon as you turn, Yukhei’s grip on your arm not loosening in the slightest.

“Y/N,” he says, and although you want to pull away and pretend like you don’t have to face him at some point like you have been doing, the look in his eyes makes you stay. He’s watching you with fear lacing his expression- he’s not angry at you, he’s just…

He’s just worried.

Tears spring to your eyes as soon as it hits you that you’ve not only abandoned your best friend but probably worried him out of his mind the past two weeks. You haven’t gone this long without speaking since you were ten and he didn’t have a phone yet.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, drawing you into a hug as you try to get yourself under control. You won’t cry again. You’ve spent too much time crying.

You swallow down the lump in your throat and pull away from your best friend’s embrace, holding him at arms length as he stares down at you, brows drawn together in a deep crease.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, teeth latching onto your lower lip. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” he responds quietly, hands slipping down your arms to hold on to your own. “We need to talk.”

“I know.” you breathe out heavily. “It’s just that right now-”

“Y/N?”

The sharp voice of your aunt causes you and Yukhei to both look left. You don’t bother to let go of each others’ hands; after all, everyone here knows how close the two of you are, so its more instinct to stay together than apart.

You open your mouth to greet your aunt, but she cuts you off before you can even talk, stalking towards you with narrowed eyes.

“Isn’t this the landscaper?” she points with no respect at Yukhei, not even looking at him. You narrow your own eyes.

“The landscaper?” you repeat, then laugh with no humor, shaking your head. “This is Yukhei, my best friend.”

Your aunt laughs louder than you had, dryly. “Your best friend is a maintenance worker? Don’t kid with me, Y/N.”

Yukhei lets go of your hands, and you turn to him to see him almost sinking in on himself, looking ashamed.

“He’s not just some staff member, he’s been my closest friend for eight years, and even if he was, how can you laugh like that?” you question her sharply.

Aunt Seoyeon cocks her head dangerously. “Darling, you’re much too wealthy to be hanging around someone like that.” She grabs your arm and pulls you to the side, then looks pointedly at Yukhei, whose expression is unreadable. “Well? What are you still doing here?”

“Why are you talking to him like that?” you snap, hating the way that Yukhei just nods and pivots, quick footsteps leading him away from you. “He’s not below me just because he doesn’t have as much money as me.”

“Yes he is,” she hisses. “All of that sort are no good for company. You’re not to see him or contact him anymore. In fact, I think it’s better if you finish your summer in Seoul.”

“What?” you exclaim, and she hushes you hurriedly. “No, I’m not going back there until the new school year. Busan is our summer residence, and I’ll stay here for the summer.”

“I am your legal guardian now, Y/N,” your aunt says darkly, and you frown. “You’ll do as I say. In fact, since you fought me on it, you’ll leave tonight.”

You throw her hand off your arm and whip around, heading back to your room steaming with anger.

You aren’t even given time to say goodbye to Jaehyun or Yukhei before your aunt stuffs you in a car, telling the chauffeur to take you to the airport, where she’s already bought you a one-way flight to Seoul.

“L/N F/N! You haven’t been here during the summer in ages!”

You look up from your lonely spot in a crowded cafe to see Han Jieun, one of your classmates, strutting towards you in shoes that probably cost more than your entire current outfit combined.

“Hello, Jieun,” you greet politely, a little surprised when she pulls out the chair in front of you. “You’re right about that.”

She smiles, red lips curving to points. “So what brings you here? Everytime we ask about your summer plans you mention the estate in Busan. Did it burn down or something?” she laughs, a high, bell-like sounds.

You shake your head. “No, I just have a lot going on and was encouraged to stay in Seoul for a bit.” You’d rather not tell any of the classmates you’ve never entrusted with a secret as small as having kissed a certain boy once upon a time- let alone that your parents passed away and you were sent to Seoul by force.

Jieun nods, humming pensively. “Yes, those things do happen. Well, what are you up to today? Don’t tell me you’re doing work or anything like that?”

You are. You met with one of your dad’s closest advisors in the company in secret yesterday, and he gave you some assignments, trying to prepare you as quickly as possible to take over leading the company once you explained the situation with your aunt and uncle.

“Nothing important.” you shut the notebook you had open and take a sip of the latte you’d ordered before. “Why?”

Jieun tosses her fashionably cropped black hair over her shoulder with a wider grin. “Yuyeon, Jia, and I were going to head down Gangnam today and do some shopping. I know you’re more of the studious type, but I’d love it if you came along!”

Just for the fact that she tried to sound sincere, and you kind of want a distraction from the stress that’s overtaken every second of your life, you bite your lip with the tiniest smile, and agree.

Your aunt made you delete Yukhei’s number from your phone with her watching before you left a week ago, but you know it by heart anyway, so you’ve been texting him simple morning and nights every day since you left.

Today, he facetimes you when you’ve already tucked yourself into bed, but you answer regardless.

“Hiya,” he says, face pixelated on your screen. You guess his connection is bad.

“Hi,” you reply, knowing your voice shows how drained you are.

“Heard from Jaehyun that you went shopping today,” he wiggles his eyebrows and you chuckle.

“Yeah, this girl I know from school saw me when I was out and convinced me to come along with her and her friends. It was okay, I guess.”

“Buy anything?”

You shake your head. “I just watched them spend a shitton of their parents’ money.”

Yukhei laughs, his head tipping back. “Blow it all on fancy shoes and jackets, huh?”

You laugh too. “Jieun bought a 800,000 won dress for a dinner party her dad is throwing. She invited me but said I have to wear name brand if I come.”

“Well, you should go.” he shrugs, but you see something uncomfortable within it. “Y’know, network, meet some new people.”

You shrug back. “We’ll see. I’m worried about spending money right now with my aunt and uncle doing whatever they’re doing.” Yukhei hums, so you continue. “When does your dad get in?”

“Tomorrow at noon, I’m gonna take the bus to the airport to pick him up.”

“I’m so pissed that my aunt forced me to come here,” you mutter. “I can’t believe I’m missing my chance to meet the one other person in your family.”

“He doesn’t speak Korean or English anyway,” Yukhei says, but you can tell he’s disappointed too.

“I’m going to figure something out,” you say firmly. “I’m coming back to Busan. My parents wouldn’t have wanted this for me.”

Yukhei is quiet for a moment, and you start to get worried, but he speaks up just as you’re about to ask if he’s okay.

“I think it’ll be good for you to stay in Seoul for a while, Y/N.” he says, and your lips fall open.

“Wait, what?”

Yukhei looks down, his expression turning vague. “I want you to do more of what your classmates do. It’s not fair that you have the opportunity for that kind of lifestyle but you always end up staying with me.”

You shake your head. “Yukhei, we already talked about this, there’s a reason for that-”

“I want you to live your life, okay?” he cuts you off. “You’re going through so much and being tied down to one friend isn’t going to help. Just let your aunt and uncle handle the stressful things and be a teenager.”

“Did something happen?” you sit up, leaning closer to your phone. “Did my aunt tell you to say that?”

He shakes his head, a bitter-looking smile lining his lips. “Nobody told me to say anything, Y/N.”

“I don’t understand,” you say plainly. “You’ve never wanted me to hang out with those people before. I thought I explained what they’re like- they don’t care about others, all they care about is money and power.”

“But maybe they don’t!” Yukhei runs a hand through his hair. “You never even gave them a chance.” and quieter, as though he didn’t want you to actually hear: “Because of me.”

“Yukhei-” you start, but are interrupted again.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” he says simply, and the call ends, nothing but a black mirror reflecting your emptiness back at you.

You sit for a moment, and then in frustration, chuck your phone at the wall, ignoring the way that the screen shatters over the wood floor- another mess that someone else will have to clean up for you.

If you were to describe the next year and a half of your life, you would start with the word luxury.

You and Yukhei had drifted farther from each other than you ever had in all your years of friendship- and as much as you wanted to take part of the blame so he’d never feel guilty about it, it was him who’d done that. You tried endlessly to keep in touch with him, sneak back to the estate at random times and search him out, but it was like he was purposely avoiding you at every moment. He came to see you on your seventeenth birthday and for the Chuseok holidays, and that was about it.

The luxury comes into play because of Yukhei’s absence in your life. Jaehyun was ultimately unsuccessful in prying the company out of your aunt and uncle’s hands, and even after he became an adult they kept such close tabs on him that he gave up trying to fight the choices they made for him.

You’d done the same- Yukhei’s leaving you behind and the absence of both your parents and your brother (who’d been sent to Harvard to stay far away from the company) left you constantly feeling alone. You accepted Jieun’s consistent offers of going to parties and dinners and galas and “study sessions” (there wasn’t much studying done at those). You made friends, gilded, shells of friends who were all smiles and no compassion. When the word got out that the reason you stayed in Seoul that summer was because of your parents’ death, you got no visits from the people you were associating yourself with- you got dozens of bouquets of expensive fresh flowers and short notes of condolences. There was no reason to be bitter, since you’d ultimately done this to yourself, but compared to the excitement and passion for life you’d had before the accident, you never felt like yourself anymore.

Pulling up in the circular driveway in front of the mansion in Busan seems strange now, since it’s been so long. You thank the chauffeur as he gets out of the car with you, helping you with your bags before driving down to where the other cars are parked.

You’re about to start dragging the multiple suitcases you’d brought up to the front door, when a hand over yours stops you.

“I’ll get it, little sis,” Jaehyun says, voice full of warmth.

You melt in happiness, wrapping your arms around his torso immediately as he hugs you back, then spins you around, chuckling.

“Thank god,” you say when he puts you down. “I need someone I can trust if I’m going to be stuck here with the devil couple until my birthday.”

“Eighteen,” Jaehyun muses, picking up your luggage. “It’s a big day.”

You shrug. “Same old, same old. Jieun was disappointed that she wasn’t allowed to plan some big expensive party.”

Jaehyun sighs. “Jieun, Jieun. Is she your new best friend?”

You wince, looking down as you follow your brother up the steps to the doors. “Haven’t we talked about this?”

“Sure we have, but I still don’t get it.”

You’d like to reply that you don’t get it either, but the double doors swing open, and there is Aunt Seoyeon, in a calf-length white silk dress that’s far too fancy for just welcoming you back to Busan.

Of the things you’re still fiery about, your aunt and uncle taking up residence in the estate is at the top, along with them taking the company. It’s your house, that your parents built for you and Jaehyun to get away from the city in, and the fact that they’ve been here while keeping you away is still insurmountably frustrating.

“Welcome home, kids!” she pipes, falsity lining her every movement and word. “We’ve set up dinner- I figured you’d both be hungry after your trips here.”

“Thanks,” you say halfheartedly, as she turns and leads you and your brother into the house, down familiar halls past the double staircase until you reach the dining room.

You sit down, tuning out whatever your aunt and uncle are saying to the staff about the food, as Jaehyun quietly responds when they start asking him questions about Harvard. You look through the window as the others begin to eat at the starkly empty table- long enough for twelve but set for four. A part of you knows you’re not paying attention because you’re looking for someone else- will he be out there today? Or could he be in town, maybe even with other people… another girl? You wonder if he’ll avoid you when you’re both in the same place like he had before.

“Y/N,” your uncle’s voice says, and you turn your head from the windows, looking across the table at him. He smiles at you, a careful, curious look on a face too jubilant for someone who had practically stolen wealth from the cold hands of his dead brother. “Why don’t you tell us about your friend Han Jieun? Her father is an investor, right?”

“He owns an investing label,” you reply, finally picking up your spoon for the soup in front of you. “Jieun doesn’t care much for it, though.”

Your uncle nods, humming. “You’re still attending her parties and events, yes?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I am.”

“I hope you’re not interacting with the waiters there!” Seoyeon chirps, laughing like she made a wonderful joke. You know its a dig at your friendship with Yukhei, and you don’t feel like pretending like that doesn’t bother you.

The conversation continues in a chopped, awkward fashion, as your aunt and uncle try to push you and Jaehyun into talking about the connections you’ve made and just about nothing else, while the two of you answer in the shortest possible ways.

By the time dinner is coming to a close, you can tell your legal guardians are getting very frustrated with you and your brothers’ attitudes.

“I think the two of you should go up to bed,” Seoyeon snaps just as someone is bringing out the fruit for dessert. “It seems that you’re both too tired to properly talk with us.”

“You’re right,” Jaehyun replies immediately. “Come on, Y/N, we can clock out early.”

“Pardon me?” your aunt scrunches up her pointy features, catching the tone in Jaehyun’s voice, but he’s already stood and pulled out your chair, and the two of you are out of the dining room before anything else can be said.

“They really piss me off,” Jaehyun mutters as you walk with him towards the stairs, two pairs of expensive shoes clicking against the marble floors.

“Me too.”

You’re halfway up the stairs when you see him.

He’s on the other side of the leftmost staircase, half-hidden by the curve of the structure, but in a way that tells you he was intending to be. He’s wearing the sort of work clothes he always felt “gross” in but you thought reflected his humble personality. He looks older than the last time you saw him, almost like he’s been weighed down with responsibility and its aged him past his eighteen years.

Yukhei looks up at you with the strangest expression- in that moment before he realizes you’ve caught him staring, that is. His eyes are round, brows just the slightest bit furrowed, and lips parted. He looks… it seems that he can’t believe you’re there, and it seems… ah, you don’t really know.

But then he sees that you’re looking back at him, and his face hardens into something unreadable. Yukhei ducks beneath the staircase, the weight of his heavy boots resonating in the large hall.

Jaehyun notices your distraction right away, but doesn’t say anything until you reach the hallway where both your rooms are.

“You two need to talk to each other.” he says simply, standing in front of your door.

You scoff, shaking your head incredulously. “Jae, that’s not- that’s just not going to happen. I’m not the one that can decide we’re friends again, he’s the one that cut me off like that-”

“He loves you, Y/N.” your brother says, his face the most serious you’ve seen in a long time. “He was afraid because he realized he loves you.”

You feel everything stop in that moment.

Love, as you have understood it, is not something that people fall into or out of easily.

In your parents, love was a connection that made them stronger together than they were apart, and brought them happiness unlike any other. Your own happy moments as a child often came from seeing your dad bring your mom a cup a coffee late at night in her office, sitting down and talking quietly together, content with just sitting near each other. Or in the car, when they would hold hands across seats, your mom running her thumb over the silver band on your dad’s ring finger, him doing the same when they sat in opposite places. But you had never seen anyone other than your parents in love.

And you hadn’t yet considered whether you would ever be or not.

“Where did you get that kind of idea?” you whisper, unable to look straight at your brother.

Jaehyun sighs. “You two are the only ones who don’t know. Mom and dad knew, I knew, Seoyeon and Sungjoo knew, the whole staff did, too.”

Your brows draw together, and you let out a sharp breath, shaking your head. “I don’t know what you mean. Yukhei and I aren’t… we were never… we-”

“Just look back on things tonight, okay?” your brother pats your cheek, a smile lifting up one side of his lips. “You’ll realize.”

Before you can respond, he’s pivoted and is down the hall, opening the door to his room and disappearing inside.

You wake up the next morning feeling groggy and anxious- you hadn’t fallen asleep for ages because of how much was on your mind and then your sleep was unstable, the kind of in-between state of consciousness where the body is struggling to stay under the deep water of sleep, and the mind is constantly pulling to break the surface.

You’ve always been more curious and confrontational than not, and this is no different- your instinct is to spend the day seeking out Yukhei and figuring out a way to force him to talk to you. So you take a long shower to try and gain some confidence and peace, and then dress in a simple sweater and jeans, trying not to look like the wealthy socialite image of yourself that you’re sure Yukhei has seen on your social media the past year and a half.

The staff kitchen is where you take your breakfast, but neither Yukhei nor his mom are anywhere to be found. You ask the old woman who made your eggs and toast for you if she’d seen him today and her only answer was that she thought he might be in the backyard.

You push open the back door, through the staff kitchens to the steps where Yukhei would often sit to lace up his boots. He isn’t there, but you weren’t really expecting him to be anyway.

The air is crisp today- kind of chilly for the summer, although you suppose it isn’t anywhere near the hottest days of the season. Accompanying the bite the air gives you as you step outside is a breeze that passes through the loose parts of your hair, and brushes the planes of your face, leaving you breathing in movement while you walk down the steps and out to the end of the paved part of the back porch.

It’s then that you catch sight of Yukhei.

He’s leaning against the base of the willow tree, head tipped back like he’s watching the sky, every few seconds lifting up the red apple in his hand to take a bite out of it. He must be taking a break, since his pants look stained with the green dew of fresh grass.

You take a bit of a detour, a curved path to get around to the back of the willow tree without Yukhei noticing. You don’t want him to see you coming and then run- not that you really think he’s so committed to avoiding you that he’d do that. You just don’t want to risk it, really.

“Ya, Wong Yukhei,” you call once you’re within the curtains of leaves. Your best friend turns, his head coming down from its tilted position so that his gaze lands on you. An eyebrow raises, and you see the very corner of his lip just slightly lift up.

“Morning,” he replies simply, then takes the last bite from his apple. You’re expecting him to go on, but he doesn’t and you end up at a loss for words.

Sure, you’d planned some sort of confrontation with Yukhei… but you hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“...Are you working today?” you finally say.

Yukhei shrugs, sticking the apple core in his pocket. “I work everyday, Y/N.”

You frown. “What about the weekends? Surely you have breaks.”

He raises his brows, then sighs, seemingly realizing something. “I guess your aunt and uncle never told you about the changes they were making. Anyway, even if schedules hadn’t changed for everybody I think they’d have done it to me regardless.”

“What do you mean by that?” you cock your head, brows drawing together. “Did they say something to you?”

Yukhei seems like he’s about to say something, but catches his words just before they leave his lips, and lets out a sigh that’s half a hiss instead. “...You shouldn’t worry about it.”

You take a breath to respond, but realize you still don’t know what to say.

It bothers you that it’s like this. Yukhei was never someone you ran out of conversations with- he has always been full of energy to supply endless stories that you could laugh at and talk about for hours. But now, it feels like there’s something between you, whether it be tension or awkwardness or unexplained history.

So you say the one thing that comes to mind every time you’ve thought of Yukhei since that call a year and a half ago.

“I really miss you.”

His expression doesn’t change, which kind of worries you, until he replies, low voice quiet and nearly swept away by the breeze.

“I missed you too.”

You don’t jump back into your friendship with Yukhei immediately. It takes a few days, maybe even a couple weeks, before you feel the same level of comfort around him that you used to. He can tell from the beginning, you think, that it’s you who has become nervous around him, the worry of him cutting you off again never quite leaving the back of your mind.

He proves it to you, though, that he won’t do it again. He sneaks with you around the estate at wicked hours, leads you through staff doors to quiet rooms where you can sit together without the concern of being caught by your aunt and uncle. There’s a rush to it, knowing that you’re not allowed to see each other, and doing it anyway.

The only times you can feel Yukhei’s past disillusionment coming through is when he catches names like Han Jieun’s appear on your phone, and you generally turn away with an apologetic face and answer.

But even if you answer her calls, you turn down her endless invitations to come back to Seoul for the summer.

It’s one of those nights where you and Yukhei are out by the willow tree, in light clothes because the heat has begun swelling deeper and deeper into the hours on the clock, when you ask him if what Jaehyun told you is true, and your best friend tells you that it’s the truest thing he knows- and you fall into something you’re worried you will never return from.

Jaehyun notices that something is different not even a week after that night- raising his eyebrows when he catches you smiling to yourself, and then nodding along with a knowing look. You don’t mind that he knows. He’s the only one that can, anyway.

You spend early summer mornings drunk on the taste of Yukhei’s lips, and you struggle to imagine how the two of you had forced yourself apart for so long. A part of you, though, knows summer won’t last forever, and you don’t know what you’ll do when you go back to Seoul this fall. It’ll be your last year of high school, but you can’t help but wonder how your already secretive relationship will continue across the length of the country.

It’s two weeks before your summer is set to be over when your aunt and uncle call you into the dining hall. You sit down, facing the both of them as they are beside each other, and prepare yourself for what you’re assuming this is about- that they’ve found out about you and Yukhei. You can’t think of anything else that would bring this kind of formal setup.

“Y/N,” Seoyeon begins, and you clench your teeth in preparation. “You’re turning eighteen soon, yes?”

...Wait, what?

“Yes?” you reply, tilting your head curiously. “Why?” Your aunt and uncle share a look, and suddenly your heart drops, knowing this definitely isn’t about you and Yukhei.

“We know we didn’t ask this of Jaehyun, but since you’re the second child and a young lady, we were thinking, that for the best possible future for you and for the company, it seems like a good idea to-”

Seoyeon cuts off your uncle. “We’re arranging a marriage for you.”

A marriage.

The noun repeats itself in your mind, over and over as you struggle to reply. A marriage. At eighteen years of age. An arranged marriage.

“...What?”

Your aunt lets out a breathy chuckle, reaching across the table and patting your hands that are resting on the tablecloth. “Now, I know it seems out of the blue, but we’ve really thought a lot about this. You do have a choice between two young men around your age whose parents we’ve been in contact with- I didn’t want to make all the decisions for you, of course.”

You’re stunned out of your mind- you can’t find anything to say.

“It’ll be a good inheritance,” your aunt continues. “And you won’t have to worry about finding a husband later in your life. Really, there’s no drawbacks here, so I hope you’ll just be content with picking between your suitors today.”

You can’t very well expose your relationship with Yukhei suddenly to get out of the marriage- you doubt it would have any sort of impact other than getting Yukhei and his mom fired, so all you can do it blankly nod, watching your aunt pull out two strangely investigative-looking files for you to look at.

You barely skim over them; choice one, Kim Jungwoo, choice two, Mark Lee. You see the words “speaks English” on Mark Lee’s file and choose him because of that, the whole process taking you just under a minute.

“I’m so glad to see that you’re not fighting us on this, Y/N,” Seoyeon says with what you could hope to describe as a proud smile. “You really have grown up well.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. “I think I’ll head back upstairs now.”

You turn to go, but Seoyeon calls after you shamelessly. “I’ll send you Mark’s number! You’ll meet him in just a few days, so prepare yourself!”

You sit under the willow tree on a bench that Yukhei dragged out a few weeks ago, your left side pressed against his right, left hand intertwining with his right, his thumb sweeping affectionately over the back of your hand. The sun is setting- the only reason you’re out here at this time is because your aunt and uncle happened to leave to “take care of some things” in Gwangju. It feels nice, though, to have some time where you don’t have to feel that thrill of possibly being caught. You can just be a normal couple for once.

You’d suggested going out to the willow tree as soon as Seoyeon and Sungjoo left, and Yukhei hadn’t questioned it at all, following you outside with a smile that sang adoration. He loves the willow tree just about as much as he loves you, you think. He’s always been nostalgic like that.

“You seem sad.” Yukhei’s low murmur has you glancing up at him, finding his eyes already on you. “Are you okay?”

A sharp pain stings your heart when you match his gaze. How are you supposed to tell him what you were told this morning? When he looks at you like someone could only dream of being looked at? When you have each others’ past, present, and future in your hearts, and the idea of letting go of any of them hurts you enough to make a reality like that seem catastrophic- how can you?

You know that this secret relationship has been harder on Yukhei than it has on you. Even if he kisses you with fervency and passion, you can tell there are days when he hesitates. He hesitates like continuing to love you may be the wrong choice for him, and he realizes it in those small, intimate moments. You realize it too, in times where he sighs heavily and puts his head in his hands when he thinks you aren’t looking, or when you catch him and his mom having serious discussions in the kitchen as you pass by, or he holds onto you with an extra desperation that seems like he’s preparing himself to lose you.

Yes, you have always been more confrontational than not, but now, Yukhei isn’t someone who you can easily bring those sort of things up to. Maybe you’ve become more of a coward since you understood your feelings for him, but you try to avoid anything that might be too hard to talk about.

“I’m okay,” you whisper, leaning your face against his shoulder and turning your body into him. You don’t want to think of Mark Lee, of Seoyeon and Sungjoo and the way they’ve torn the future you were supposed to have apart piece by piece. You just want to sit here under the setting sun and love and be loved.

Yukhei hums, nodding. You can feel the movement of his head above yours. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Mark Lee’s number in your phone is still untouched by the time a Lamborghini pulls up in your driveway a few days later and he, accompanied by his mother and father, step out of it, beginning to walk up to where you, your aunt and uncle, and Jaehyun are standing in front of the house.

Seoyeon had a red viscose jersey dress from Gucci shipped in this morning, and had the butler at your Seoul suite send the Louboutins you’d left there too, emphasizing that you had to look your best for this meeting. You feel a little silly in the bright red and black ensemble, having gotten used to more casual clothing over the summer, but seeing that Mark and his family are dressed up in equally expensive wear, you relax. Well, about as relaxed as you can be.

You know you should have told Yukhei about the arranged marriage before the Lee family’s arrival, you know he’ll probably find out today via someone else’s words, and it brings a shame on you that you know you deserve. But that night a few days ago, you just couldn’t do it, and pretending it wasn’t happening was all too easy after that. You’re just dreading his reaction.

“Park Seoyeon, Kim Sungjoo,” Mark’s father calls as the party of three approaches. “What a beautiful property you have here.”

“Hello again,” your uncle greets. “We’re glad to welcome the three of you to it.”

Seoyeon nudges you forward with a blinding, all too plastered on smile. “This is our niece, Y/N, and our nephew Jaehyun.”

Taking the hint, you bow slightly, offering a quiet hello.

“And our son Mark,” says his mother, placing her hand on her son’s shoulder as he smiles shyly at you.

Mark isn’t exactly what you expected. For some reason, even after briefly seeing his picture, you’d formed an idea of him in your head- something like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. You’re not sure why, but the whole arranged marriage deal had you thinking he would be drastically different from you and show up thinking you’d become his property. However, despite his no doubt wildly expensive suit and carefully styled hair, Mark Lee looks approachable, kind, even handsome, and you don’t believe your prejudice of him is accurate at all.

“Hi,” he says sheepishly, bowing to your aunt and uncle and then to you and Jaehyun.

“Ah, what a gentleman,” Seoyeon says, even though nothing has really directly indicated that about Mark. “Let’s head inside, shall we?”

The chefs have cooked up a meal of endless courses, which you saw as you peeked into the kitchen window on your way to the dining room. You withhold a sigh, anticipating how long today will be.

Your aunt directs you to a specific seat, and then places Mark directly across from you and your aunt on your left. She urges you to talk to him quietly as her and the other adults get into conversation, Jaehyun at the other end of the table looking very obviously like he’d rather not be here.

You don’t initiate any sort of conversation, but Mark clears his throat as the first few dishes are set down.

“So,” he starts, nerves evident on his face and in his mannerisms. “My dad told me you speak English?”

You nod, picking up your spoon and taking a long sip of soup before answering. “I was better when I was young, but I’m not bad.”

Mark nods. “Have you always lived in Korea?”

“Yes.” you reply simply. “Have you?”

“No,” Mark shakes his head. “I lived in Canada until a few years ago.”

“Ah,” you nod. You know really you should continue the conversation, but you just… your mind isn’t on Mark or the marriage or the dinner at all. Your mind is on how the curtains in the dining room are drawn wide open, and Yukhei could walk by at any time.

“I think I saw you at a gala once,” Mark says, drawing your attention back to him. “You’re friends with Han Jieun, right?”

“I suppose,” you shrug. “We’re not that close.”

“Have you met her boyfriend?” Mark asks, and seeing your confused expression, he adds, “Kim Doyoung?”

“Ah,” you gesture in recognition. “Yes, Doyoung. I’m not fond of him, though. He’s always a bit stiff with her friends.”

Mark snickers. “That’s Doyoung for you.”

“Are you friends?”

He shrugs. “Sort of. He’s very much the rich type, you know? Like Jieun.” You raise your eyebrows and Mark’s eyes shoot wide open. “Oh, sorry, that was pretty rude, I don’t mean anything by it, just-”

You wave him off. “No, you’re exactly right. They are that type.” then, in a quieter voice to keep your aunt from hearing: “That’s why I’m not close with Jieun and her circle.”

Mark chuckles. “Same here. I guess we’re sort of in the same boat.”

“I suppose so.”

After a generally-less-awkward-than-expected dinner, your aunt and Mark’s mom insist that you show him around the mansion and the rest of the estate, despite Mark saying that it really was okay if you didn’t.

You hadn’t seen Yukhei yet, and you could only pray you could at least make it through tonight without him finding out, but walking the grounds would certainly make it harder.

You start by leading Mark out of the dining room and down the wide halls until you’re back at the front hall with the double staircase.

“Everything connects to here,” you tell him.

“I like the stairs,” he comments, an impressed look on his face. “Fancy.”

You don’t spend long in the house; briefly you show him the library and the small theatre, and then you head outside, hoping to walk once around the house and then come back inside.

You start from the front, since the gardens wrap from the front of the mansion down the side and open out into the back property that you’re so familiar with.

“Pretty,” says Mark when you head into the organized groups of hedges and flowers.

You nod. “My mom picked everything.”

He stills. “I- I’m sorry my parents didn’t give their condolences. It’s really terrible… I really can’t imagine- I… I’m really sorry.”

You look down as you walk, his apology bringing back those weeks just after your parents’ deaths, when it seemed that every time someone spoke to you it was to tell you something similar. “Don’t worry about apologies. It’s clear to me that you’re a sympathetic person.”

“About that, Y/N… I,” he starts but stops, shaking his head with a sharp sigh. “I know this really isn’t the best situation. Like, we’re both pretty young and we’re getting thrown into this whole arranged marriage thing, but I hope at least we can be friends.”

The two of you stop in a circular clearing, Mark stuffing his hands in his pockets nervously.

“I just, I get the feeling that this isn’t really what you wanted and I understand that, because like, it is marriage after all and we kind of aren’t getting to live our lives freely and-”

“Marriage?”

A cold hand grasps your heart, and you whip your head to the left, seeing exactly who you were hoping you wouldn’t see tonight.

And Yukhei looks as pained as you had predicted.

“Sorry, who are you?” Mark asks politely, turning to face Yukhei.

“Y/N,” Yukhei says, ignoring Mark. Your heart tugs at the way he says your name, already a note of pleading within his tone. “Tell me I heard that wrong.”

You dig your nails into your palms as you stare back at him, burning tears welling up in the back of your eyes, at a loss for words.

“I- I think I’m missing something here,” Mark says, looking frantically between you and Yukhei. “Should I go?”

Yukhei’s eyes sweep over to Mark, tilting his head when they land on him. “Tell me who you are.” His jaw has tightened, tension evident in his every movement.

Mark holds his hands up defensively. “I’m Mark Lee,” he replies. “Hey man, just let me know if this is a personal thing-”

“I’m sorry Mark,” you cut in, placing your hand lightly on his shoulder. “Would you be offended if I talked with him for a minute?” You don’t miss the way Yukhei’s eyes snap right to your hand touching Mark, and you lift it right away.

Mark shakes his head. “No, no, that’s fine, we can talk tomorrow though, right?” you nod and he nods back quickly. “Okay, sure, um, I’ll walk around a bit?”

“I’ll meet you back at the front in fifteen minutes,” you assure him, and seemingly ready to escape the clearing that feels thick with tension, Mark turns and heads back the way you came, footsteps fast.

You turn back to Yukhei, finding him regarding you with a look of clear betrayal. You open your mouth to talk, but he beats you to it.

“You’re marrying him.” he bites out, his lip trembling. A wave of guilt washes over you as he shakes his head, then throws it back to look up at the night sky, running his hands through his hair over and over in a show of frustration.

“Yukhei,” you call softly, but the way he groans stops you from continuing.

“Please just wait,” he says, wiping his hands over his face as he starts pacing. “Just give me a second.”

You do as he asks, but you can’t stop the way your hands shake fervently, even as you try to clasp them together, and you can’t help the hiccups that accompany the beginning of tears as the first few drop from your lower lashes onto your cheeks.

He looks over at you once he hears the sound of your crying, but you can tell he’s not quite ready to drop his mistrust and come comfort you.

“What happened, Y/N?” he half-shouts, clearly trying to control the volume of his voice but the emotion of it making that hard. You take in a choked breath as you watch the tears start spilling from his eyes. “I thought we- I thought I was good enough, for once, I thought that- I thought that finally I could have something other people don’t have! I thought that for once I would be-” he cuts himself off with a strangled cry, turning away from you and shoving his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking as he sobs.

“Yukhei,” you call again, voice tight and desperate. You’re not sure if he’ll want you to touch him, you’re afraid of overstepping because of what you’ve done to him. “Please listen, Yukhei,”

He lifts up a hand and wipes at his face again, then turns, swallowing down his tears for a moment as he gestures for you to talk. “Tell me then, tell me why.”

You step from side to side, taking a moment to try and find the right words, hands shaking as you hold them up the way that you always do when you try to explain things. “I… I love you, okay? You have to know that, you have to believe it, I love you and not him, okay?”

Yukhei bites his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, and doesn’t reply, so you keep talking.

“I don’t have a choice. I found out a few days ago, my aunt made me pick between two people for a marriage that she arranged, she said that it’s for my inheritance and didn’t leave me room to argue. I couldn’t tell her about us, you understand, right?”

At this, he shakes his head wildly, then snaps at you the loudest that he ever has. “No, Y/N! I don’t understand! I don’t understand your rich folk politics, I don’t understand why you make things more complicated than they are, I don’t understand why it’s hard to tell someone that you’re in love! I don’t understand why I’m not good enough for you!”

“You are good enough for me!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up. “I thought you knew that! I never wanted you to feel like you’re not!”

“You’re the only one that thinks that way, Y/N,” he chokes out. “Ahh, ah, why did I do this to myself?”

“Yukhei,” you repeat desperately. “Yukhei, I can’t tell her because she’ll fire you, don’t you see? She’ll fire you and your mom, and I-”

“She’s already doing that!” he snaps, and suddenly, everything feels like the glass that was dropped has shattered.

“...What?” you whisper weakly, finally catching his tired eyes so that you’re looking into them. He looks unbelievably drained, that heaviness that you’ve noticed on him for weeks seeming more prominent now than ever.

“She’s already doing that, Y/N.” he repeats quietly, biting his lip again. “Your aunt and uncle are firing half the staff once you and Jaehyun leave.”

You can’t do anything but stare at him, lips parted, in absolute shock. “She can’t do that,” you manage. “No, they can’t do that!”

Yukhei looks defeated, finally reaching forward and taking your hand, pulling you towards him until he has you pressed against his chest, resting his chin atop your head as you continue crying into his shoulder, mumbling a series of “no, they can’t”s into his plain white shirt.

He sways you, and you feel a few more wet drops land on your hair as the two of you hold each other, crying, in the gardens that the mother you wish you could talk to in this moment designed for you when you were young.

“I know you love me,” Yukhei murmurs into your hair. “I’m sorry I made it seem like you’d done something bad.”

“I should have told you right away,” you respond, pressing tighter to him. “I was going to, when we sat out under the tree a few nights ago, but I just couldn’t.”

“At least this way I met the guy,” he says, chuckling, and you let out a breathy laugh as well.

“I won’t marry him, Yukhei,” you tell him, sure of yourself as you speak. “I will find a way for us.”

He doesn’t reply for a while, and you start to get worried, until he says, “You told him fifteen minutes. You should probably go.”

You pull away, looking up at him. “Are you sure?”

Yukhei nods. “It’s not fair to worry him.”

You regard him, affection filling every part of your being. You reach up with one hand, gently tracing the planes of his face with your fingers as his eyes flutter shut. “You are the kindest person on this planet.”

His eyes open, and he places the softest kiss on your forehead. “I will see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Y/N.”

Mark’s family leaves at around 11:45 pm, Mark not having questioned the way you took him upstairs after you found him in front of the house so that you could fix your makeup so that it didn’t look like you’d just cried. You’d profusely apologized for the situation and explained that the reason why you didn’t seem enthusiastic about the marriage had to do with the fact that you were very much in love with someone else. He smiled and told you he understood, and that the both of you still had time to figure out if there was a way to get out of it.

You did sleep well, that night, for how much had happened. You dreamt of your mother, her soft fingers brushing your hair away from your face and telling you words that were certainly wise but that you forgot as soon as you woke up in the morning.

Jaehyun knocks on your door in the morning, finding you with messy hair, puffy eyes, and in your silk pajamas.

“What?” you grumble, never having been a morning person.

Your brother’s expression is serious. “Come to my room with me. I have to show you something.”

Jaehyun leads you through his room, locking that door, and then to his office, locking that one behind him too.

“What are we doing, spying on someone?” you ask quizzically at his apparent paranoia.

“No,” he replies, sliding into one of the two office chairs in the room, patting the other one so as to suggest you sit on it. You do, and he continues talking. “I’ve found something important about mom and dad’s accident.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

The police had told you and Jaehyun that the accident was merely that- an unfortunate turn at the wrong time and someone else running a red light. The other driver had escape unharmed but paid a ton of money to your family since the accident had been fatal. You’d never met him or wanted to, knowing that he had been the cause of your orphanage.

“I mean that I got my friend to dig into the police camera recordings, you know, the ones they use to catch people who run reds.” Jaehyun shakes the mouse to get his computer to turn on, and does some quick clicking around. “He found the day mom and dad crashed.”

“Jae, I don’t want to watch it,” you say feebly, already feeling sick as the still beginning of the video pops up on Jaehyun’s screen. Your brother turns to you, his face stony.

“Y/N, I’m going to tell you something now that you have to swear on your life you won’t repeat anywhere else.”

You frown deeper. “What?”

“Swear it.”

“I swear.”

Your brother nods, then sighs heavily. “I know it seems far fetched, but I’m looking into more evidence now- it’s just that watching this had me thinking, and I really do think that-”

“What is it Jaehyun?” you interrupt.

He looks at you, swallowing nervously. “I think that uncle Sungjoo orchestrated mom and dad’s death.”

“What?” you exclaim, and he hushes you.

“Look, they can’t by any means find out that I’m researching this. If it’s true and they did purposefully kill mom and dad I’m sure they could find a way to do it to us, too.”

You shake your head. “Jae, you know I’d trust you over them any day, but you have to explain this, and well.”

“I’ll skip to the important part of the video.” he says firmly, and speeds through the crash, then moves the screen so that it’s halfway covered by another browser, covering up the car your parents were in so that only the other car is showing.

The driver steps out, and looks absolutely calm as he watches the scene you can’t see, then pulls out his phone as another car pulls up from down the street. The driver of the second car gets out, and seems to have a short but unfazed conversation, before the second man gives a sharp nod and gets back into his car, driving away. The one who crashed puts his phone to his ear, and the video ends.

Jaehyun turns to you. “Seem weird?”

You tilt your head. “Yeah, actually. Really weird.”

Your brother nods. “What makes it weirder- look.” he rewinds a little to when the second man gets out of his car. “The camera didn’t catch his license plate, but I recognized him after watching a few times. It’s uncle Sungjoo’s business partner Choi Youngchul, the one who replaced Kang Hyungdon in the finances department at the headquarters in Seoul.”

“So then…” you sigh, eyebrows drawing together. “What would that entail?”

“I think it’s some sort of business deal,” Jaehyun says, leaning back in his chair. “The driver crashes into our parents on that left turn in the middle of nowhere, and ideally for him they die. The driver gets paid big bucks to keep quiet, and Youngchul is the one paying. Sungjoo takes over the business once our parents are out of the picture, and gets Youngchul the job at the headquarters. My guess is that eventually they’ll try to sell the company and leave us with nothing.”

You slump back in the chair, tipping your head back and sighing heavily. It’s a lot to think about, so suddenly. It’d been two years since your parents’ death and at this point you had accepted it, even if from time to time you still end up crying yourself to sleep when you think of them. Being confronted with the idea that it hadn’t been an accident at all brings the suffering of that first day back.

“...Well then, what do you suppose we do about it?”

Jaehyun scoffs. “We aren’t doing anything. I told you so you wouldn’t be completely in the dark, but you can’t get too involved in case they find out. You can convince them you didn’t know anything about my plans and get out safe that way.”

You stare blankly at your brother. Are you in the mood to argue with him?

Not really.

“Fine. But you have to update me at least once a month. Are you just going to try to collect more evidence about the deal thing?”

He nods. “I have a few people working on it already, and whatever intel they send me I’ll relay to you. Don’t actively search for anything, but if you happen to find something out make sure you tell me.”

“Got it,” you say, nodding your head. Jaehyun looks at you solemnly, and you cock your head in question. “What?”

“I’ll get the company back for us, Y/N,” he tells you seriously. “We’ll have the future mom and dad wanted for us.”

You both stand, you hug your brother tightly, wishing with all your heart that he is wrong about your aunt and uncle, simply because if he’s right, the tragedy in your life will multiply and multiply. And you’re not sure what your limit is.

The next day, Jaehyun leaves for Seoul with the excuse that he has some friends to meet up with before going back to America. Your aunt and uncle encourage him to make connections, all proud smiles, but your brother looks back at you with a knowing expression that tells the whole story. He’s only going to Seoul to further investigate his idea.

You spend the rest of the day in the library, reclining on a big armchair, occasionally texting with Mark so you two can get to know each other. In the event that your uncle didn’t in fact orchestrate your parents’ death and you aren’t able to take over the company, you want to be prepared to marry Mark. It’s the last thing you want to do, but life hasn’t exactly gone in your favor for a long time.

You know Yukhei must have been looking for you for the whole day by the way he throws open the library door around the time the sun is setting. His hair is mussed and hands dirty after a day of work, but your heart swells when he walks quickly across the big room and draws you from your seat and into a long kiss.

It’s only as you’re kissing him that you realize something about it is wrong.

“Hey,” you whisper, pulling away. His eyes remain squeezed close and he rests his forehead against yours, hands gripping your waist tightly. “Are you okay?”

Yukhei lets out a shaky breath, slowly opening his eyes to look at you. “I need to tell you something.”

You frown, fingers that had been intertwined behind his neck slipping down to hold onto his arms- you feel like suddenly you need traction to support whatever he’s about to say. “What is it?” you ask weakly, unsure of what to expect.

Yukhei takes a deep breath, looking away from you, before looking at his feet as he talks. “My mom and I are going back to Hong Kong.”

Your stomach drops.

“You’re… you’re leaving?” you manage to say, hands shaking as they hold onto him.

He nods, teeth pulling on his lip. “My mom thinks there’s no point in staying here if-” he seems to cut himself off, and think of something else to say. “...If she can’t work here.”

“I’ll employ her,” you rush to say. “I can find her a job, I could find her dozens- tons of people I know always need help and, and anyway, you’re graduating this year so once you finish school you can go to college here or even, well, you speak so many languages you could find a good job no matter what, so really-”

“Y/N.” he says softly, stopping your desperate rant. You look into Yukhei’s eyes, and see profound regret. “It’s already decided. I convinced her to wait until you get married, but once that happens, I’m leaving.”

You frown again, but this time out of confusion. “But I might not even be getting married. Or even if I am, not for years.”

Yukhei chuckles, but there’s no happiness to it. “I guess you weren’t paying attention during your meeting dinner. Jaehyun told me they set the date for September 25th.”

September 25th? Barely four weeks after you’re starting school, meaning it’s only just over a month away from now.

Suddenly, the realization that all of this is real- Jaehyun’s theory about your parents, your marriage that will come before you even graduate high school, the person you love leaving you for what seems like forever-

You choke up, throat feeling tight and hands trembling. Yukhei tries to steady you as you stumble, but you push him off, reaching down to grab onto the arms of your chair and sink down, clenching and unclenching your fists as you fight off tears.

“Y/N,” Yukhei says faintly, kneeling down in front of you and reaching for your hands, but you pull them away, curling up into yourself as the onslaught of tears you desperately didn’t want to come rush over you.

It’s probably the ugliest you’ve ever cried. You’ve shed tears so many times in the past couple of years, but never like this. Never gasping for air because it feels like there’s blocks of iron on your chest, never choking out incoherent sounds because your throat is drawn so tight it’s hard to breathe, never felt so crippled and weak.

“Baby,” Yukhei whispers, a twinge of anguish in his voice- but you can’t even look at him. “I’m so sorry, you know that right? I’m so, so sorry.”

“Please go,” you grit your teeth and force out. “Please.”

“What?” you hear the disbelief in his tone, and for a moment regret even asking him to leave. “You want me to go?” “Get out, Yukhei,” you mumble, voice quivering. “Now.”

You can feel his hesitation, can feel the way he wants to take your hands and force you to look at him and tell him why you’re like this.

But Yukhei has always been cautious of your desires, and so after a few moments where the silence of speaking is filled only but the sound of your sobs, you hear the library door click shut.

After a few minutes of incessant pain and tears, you manage to slow your breathing and relax just a little, still gripping the arms of your chair.

Maybe it’s best to separate yourself from Yukhei now, so that the pain when you have to stand on that white altar and say that you’ll be with Mark Lee through sickness and health won’t be as terrible.

Maybe it’s best, so that when you look into the dancing crowd at your wedding, you don’t catch the eye of someone who is leaving the next day and decide to run away with him.

Or maybe, you’re a coward, and you can’t face losing another person that you love.

Mark invites you to a party on his friend Doyoung’s yacht down by Jeju Island, and you say yes immediately, ready for a reason to get away from the damage you’d done to your and Yukhei’s relationship.

Your future husband picks you up from the estate in his far too expensive car, making the drive to the Busan airport a little more fun than it probably would have been if a chauffeur drove you two. The plane tickets are last minute, but your wealth speaks for itself, and the last two seats on the last flight of the day to Jeju are yours and Mark’s in minutes.

Mark chats to you in a way that makes you feel like he knows you’re unhappy, but doesn’t feel right asking you about it, so he’s just trying to distract you. You welcome his explanations about things he used to do in Canada and people that he knows and really good food the two of you should eat sometime- the effort to distract you somewhat works.

You land in Jeju about forty-five minutes after boarding, and Mark quickly hails a taxi to take you to the beach where Doyoung’s yacht is- and once you see it, you understand why Mark was excited.

It’s a bigger boat than your family’s, and it makes a huge impact in the darkening sky, lit up with gold and white bulbs and a shining blue pool on deck. There’s people all over the things, and just walking up the stairs to board you can tell that the drinks here are all going to contain alcohol.

“Y/N!” you hear a high pitched voice call as soon as you step onto the deck, Mark just behind you. There is Han Jieun, in a short sequined black dress with matching black nails wrapped around a champagne flute, red lips pulled into a tipsy smile. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

You smile, embracing her so she doesn’t fall over in her tall heels. “I should have figured you’d be here.”

She giggles in the pretty tinkling way that she always does. “Duh! Doyoung had the party because I asked, isn’t that so sweet of him?”

Ah, yes, Doyoung happens to be her boyfriend.

“So sweet,” you nod, settling her back on her stilettos.

Jieun seems to notice Mark, who had been awkwardly hanging behind you. “Oh! Mark Lee! Are you two together now?”

Mark steps forward, looks at you with an expression that says ‘what is the answer to that question’, and chuckles to fill up space while you think.

“Tentatively,” you say, with that exact word lining your tone.

Jieun gives you a knowing smile and a long ‘ahhh’, her face crinkling up into an amused smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” she winks, laughing again. That doesn’t really make sense to you, but you just smile and nod. “Anyway, come on, it’s weird just standing here at the front!”

You look over at Mark, and he just shrugs. “Why not?”

The next thing you know, you’re at the bar next to the pool, significantly more drunk than you’ve ever been, laughing as Mark and some of Jieun’s friends try to convince you to jump into the pool.

“But my dress is expensive!” you whine, but don’t fight the girls as they drag you from your seat at the bar and start walking you towards the pool.

“Come on, Y/N!” one of them says, laughing through her words. “I’ve never seen you have this much fun!”

“Woo! Let’s get it Y/N!” Mark shouts from the bar, and you look over your shoulder to see him cackling, his friend Sicheng that you were introduced to… at some point, rolling his eyes dramatically at Mark’s antics.

“Okay!” you exclaim, giggling as you push your hair off your shoulder. “I’ll do it!”

“I have your phone, don’t worry!” Mark calls to you, and you send him a thumbs up, kicking off your heels as even in your intoxicated state you can remember that those aren’t worth getting wet.

The girls start chanting your name, and you even see Jieun and Doyoung appear from around the corner where they’d been passionately making out for a while. The people in the pool already are laughing, spilling vodka drinks as they desture for you to jump. You hear a count of one, two, three-

And you jump.

You’re not sure how you ended up on a way stiffer, smaller bed than either of yours, but as you sit up in the dark room, that first waking thought fades as the feeling of nausea sweeps over you, and you jump from the bed, pushing open the first door that you see and thanking whatever higher power that it’s a bathroom.

You throw open the toilet lid, and have the sense to grab your hair before leaning over the toilet bowl and proceeding to throw up all of the expensive drinks you must have had.

Mark Lee appears beside you so quietly that you jump from your tragic position when he places a hand on your shoulder, taking the hair you’d gathered up from your hand and softly telling you that it’s okay. You’re not sure what he means by that, but after a few minutes, you think you’ve thrown up as much as you can, and as soon as you sit back Mark pulls the lid down and flushes the toilet, letting go of your hair.

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you try to stand up weakly, your fiance rising to his feet to help you, before you stumble over to the sink, grabbing a packaged toothbrush and quickly wetting it, wishing there was toothpaste but utilizing a ton of water to get the taste of bile out of your mouth.

It’s only after you’ve significantly washed out the aftertaste of vomit that you turn to Mark, leaning back on the sink. He’s still wearing the outfit he was before… before the crazy night that you’re sure you had, but you can’t quite remember. Looking down at yourself, you’re not in the blue dress that you remember being in before.

“Where are we?” you ask, wiping at your eyes. “I can’t remember anything.”

Mark nods, a pensive smile crossing his lips. “We’re on Doyoung’s yacht. He gave us this room since you passed out a few hours ago.”

“Ahh,” you sigh, then purse your lips. “I hope I wasn’t too much trouble. I don’t think I’ve ever drank that much.”

Mark shrugs. “Not really. I was kinda drunk too, but I slept it off. I’m surprised you’re even up right now.”

You chuckle. “Me too.” A beat of silence passes, and for a moment there, in the small bathroom in a room of Kim Doyoung’s yacht, you can imagine that Mark is really someone that you could love. He is reliable enough to have stayed with you, trustworthy enough to have just let you be even though you were in a vulnerable state, and kind enough to have woken up just to be with you while you threw up. Maybe… maybe it won’t be so terrible getting used to Mark Lee.

“Your boyfriend called.” Mark breaks the silence with his quiet comment, looking down at his face. Your lips fall open, brows drawing together. Does he mean Yukhei? “I didn’t answer, but he left some messages and texted you, too. I think he must’ve seen that picture you posted after you jumped in the pool.”

First of all, you jumped in the pool?

Second of all, shit.

“Where’s my phone?” you ask, biting your lip. What an awkward thing for him to have to tell you.

Mark silently walks back into the bedroom and you follow him. He points at the nightstand on the left. “I’m gonna change in the bathroom since I’m up.” You nod, and he reaches into the dresser next to you, pulling out loose clothes that seem to match yours. Did he… did he change you out of your clothes?

“Jieun took your dress to wash,” Mark says, seemingly reading your mind. You think you catch a blush on his cheeks as he mutters the next sentence. “I wasn’t present.” He escapes quickly to the bathroom with the clothes in his arms, the door shutting quietly behind him.

You chuckle to yourself, then remember the whole reason you’d walked out here.

Walking over to the nightstand, you pick up your phone and turn it on. 4:47am. The time is accompanied by enough messages from Yukhei that you can scroll for a few seconds before reaching the bottom. You sigh and unlock your phone, first opening the texts.

From: lucas wong, man!!!!

[12:34am] Where did you go? I saw your photo.

[12:37am] Are you with Mark Lee?

[12:46am] Are you drinking? Tell me you’re not drinking when you’re out with him.

[12:51am] Who else is there?

[1:32am] Hey, are you okay?

[1:57am] Can you text me back? I just want to know if everything is okay

[2:33am] Y/N, I’m not joking please text me back nobody knows where you are

[2:42am] It’s getting really late, are you coming home? I’ll wait up for you okay

[3:01am] Please text me back as soon as you see this

[3:01am] please

You sigh deeply, chewing on your lower lip as you open the phone app and play his voicemails.

“Hey, Y/N… I um, I know you were upset at me, and I don’t want to intrude since you seemed like you didn’t want to talk but- um, I just want to know if you’re okay? I guess you’re not coming home tonight since it’s so late, but just let me know that you’re safe… I love you, you know? I… ah, neverm-”

“I’m just calling again since it’s past four… You’re in Jeju, right? I guess I kind of snooped around your friends’ social media, sorry, haha… Call me back, please.”

The guilt that washes over you as you hear his impossibly tired and yet very clearly stressed and worried voice is so much that it almost becomes painful. Your fingers tremble- should you call him back, or if you text that you’re alright, is that enough?

You shake your head. If you were in Yukhei’s situation, you’d want to hear his voice. It’s not fair to him to leave a text after worrying him like that.

The phone rings, and rings, and rings, and you’re about to give up and leave a voicemail when he answers, a sleepy mumble of your name coming through the receiver.

“Hey,” you whisper, and you hear a deep sigh of relief.

“You’re okay,” he mutters, and you hear the sound of rustling blankets. “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” you say reflexively. “I got drunk.”

There is a few seconds of silence. “...You didn’t- you didn’t do, um, do anything with Mark, right?” Yukhei says in the smallest voice you’ve ever heard from him.

Your heart sinks, realizing how many things he might have imagined happened to you. “No,” you reply quickly. “No, we didn’t. I swear on my life.”

“I believe you,” he says. “Are you coming home?”

You bite your lip, looking at the bathroom door. “I don’t know.”

“You’re in Jeju, right?”

“Yeah, a friend of Mark’s has a yacht. That’s where we are now.”

You hear Yukhei take a short breath. “Are you with him right now?”

Suddenly you feel more guilty, even though you and Mark haven’t done anything. “He’s changing in the bathroom.”

“So you slept in the same room then?” Yukhei mumbles, half a question and half not. “Did you have to?”

“I passed out,” you tell him honestly.

More silence. And then; “I’ll talk to you later. Come home soon.”

“I’ll try,” you reply, and he hangs up.

The door opens a few seconds after, and you’re sure that Mark was waiting for you to be done talking to Yukhei before coming out. He offers you a small smile as he walks over.

“Do you mind being in the same bed now that we’re not drunk?” he asks sheepishly, hands clasped behind his back.

You sigh, one part of you feeling like you’re betraying Yukhei, and the other part telling you that when you told him to leave and then came on this trip you were ending things with him. “...We’re both tired.” you tell Mark, and lay down on the sheets. “So it’s fine.”

He nods, walking to the opposite side and promptly settling down.

“Mark?” you say after a few minutes, half expecting him to be asleep.

He hums in indication that he’ll answer.

“I’m sorry I’m such a shit fiancee.”

He laughs, throwing you off. You roll over to face him, and he just smiles at you. “Whatever happens to us, Y/N, you’re a good person.”

You frown in confusion, ready to ask what he means by that, but Mark Lee shuts his eyes and tells you goodnight.

You end up spending a few more days in Jeju after letting your aunt and uncle know (they are proud of you for being sociable, is what Seoyeon says on the phone) and get to know Mark some more. You don’t tell him about what happened between you and Yukhei for fear that it might complicate things even more, but he seems content with both being your friend or at some point being more than that. You find that you like his company more than you’d initially expected, too.

By the time you return to Busan, there’s only a week left of summer, which means you have to head back to Seoul in a maximum of three days from now. You start packing the things you’d brought immediately, having them sent down to be taken in advance. You want to see Jaehyun before he leaves for America, too, so you’re planning on going early.

You know you should talk to Yukhei before you go, too.

But it just so happens that Jaehyun texts you the day after you get back from Jeju, telling you that your aunt and uncle showed up at your shared apartment in Gangnam and have their eyes on him. And to take advantage of that and do some snooping in their stuff while they’re gone.

[9:44am] Aren’t there cameras in their office?

[9:45am] Shit, yeah. I’ll have someone jam them

You sigh. Your limited understanding of technology is really holding you back in this whole ‘expose your family members as corrupt murderers’ thing, huh?

Jaehyun shoots you a text about half an hour later that just reads ‘done’, and you take that as the cameras being down.

You try to look as confident as possible when walking to your uncle’s office, knowing that since you are the only owner of this house that’s currently home, the staff won’t question you.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself as you stop in front of the office door. It’s locked. Duh.

“Y/N,” a soft voice says from a few feet away, and you look up to see Yukhei’s mom, a somber, apologetic expression on your face. “I haven’t seen you in so long, my dear.”

You smile, bowing your head. “Yes, unfortunately.”

Mrs. Wong opens her mouth like she’s going to say one thing, then closes it, then decides to talk. “Is there anything I can do for you, sweetheart?”

An idea pops into your head, and you nod slowly. “Actually, yes.”

Mrs. Wong lends you the master key with no questions after you told her that your aunt has some paperwork in the office that you need to take back to Seoul with you.

Once inside the office, you look up at the camera in one of the corners on the ceiling, hoping it really is down. If not, you have no clue how you’ll handle explaining why you were searching through your aunt and uncle’s documents.

First, you look through the two desks, but there’s nothing more than letters updating the weekly growth for the company. Then you open the filing cabinets, thankful that those aren’t locked at the very least, and start rifling through paperwork, looking for the names of your parents as well as Choi Youngchul and Kang Hyungdon.

Nothing.

Sighing deeply, you sit down on your uncle’s office chair, shuffling the mouse to his computer around for a little until the screen lights up. Password protected, of course.

What could your uncle’s password be?

You try everything related to your aunt, or the house in Busan, or Gwangju, where they lived before, but nothing seems to work.

Hint?

The computer flashes the one word question at you, and you nod, as though it can see you, then come to your senses and click on it.

What I always wanted.

You frown. You’d already tried everything about the estate… what else did your uncle want?

...Well, if Jaehyun’s idea is right:

You skeptically type in your father’s name, and immediately, the computer unlocks and goes into your uncle’s home screen. The background is a photo of him and your aunt in front of your estate, which you narrow your eyes at.

Shaking off any annoyance, you open up the files app and start scrolling, opening only what really looks promising, since you know it’ll show the date last opened the next time Sungjoo goes on his computer.

After another half an hour of looking, you’re starting to believe this whole theory is completely incorrect and your aunt and uncle have done nothing wrong, when you realize you haven’t opened any of Uncle Sungjoo’s emails yet.

Taking a deep breath, you click on the email app and start scrolling through the trash, looking for anything between him and his wife, or Choi Youngchul. You know there’s no way anything incriminating would be among his regular emails.

“Ah,” you whisper to yourself as you see Choi Youngchul for the first time so far. You open the email thread, and immediately, your hands are over your lips instead of on the mouse.

From: Choi Youngchul

Subject: __________

Everything is done. Dead on impact, from what I could see.

To: Choi Youngchul

Subject: ________

The position is yours.

Your first thought is that you have an absolute idiot for an uncle- he should’ve deleted this conversation, really deleted it, as soon as it was over with.

Your second is to grab your phone from where you’d set it and take multiple pictures of the conversation, making sure to include everything that would show it really is from your uncle’s email account and not created. You also make sure to show the date, as you realize with a tightness of your throat is just a week after your parents’ death.

You slump back in the office chair after retracing all your steps and trying to clear any evidence that you’d been on the computer.

Jaehyun had been right.

Your parents were not in an accident.

And if it were not for your power-hungry aunt and uncle, you wouldn’t be an orphan.

You throw open the office door, shutting it behind you and locking it, wrapping the string attached to the key around your fingers as you clench your fists.

[11:17am] Send me all the evidence you have. I’m going to mom and dad’s lawyer.

[11:18am] Why? Did you find something?

You don’t answer until Jaehyun texts you again a few minutes later, telling you to come to Seoul as soon as you can, as your aunt and uncle are leaving in just an hour and you should be out of the house before they arrive home. You agree, and grab all your last minute things, stuffing them in a bag, calling your chauffeur and asking him to hurry here as fast as he can, flying down the left staircase in Prada flats.

“Are you leaving?” a hand on your arm stops you as you’re about to open the front door, bag slung over your shoulder. You turn to find Yukhei’s sad eyes looking down at you, his grip on your arm tightening.

“Yes,” you say simply. “Jaehyun needs help with something.”

He stares at you for a few seconds, breathing slowly, before he looks away, hand dropping from your arm. “You said we would talk.”

You look down too, knowing you had said that on the phone with him in Jeju. But you hadn’t exactly been expecting this to happen back then, had you? “I’m sorry. It’s short notice but it’s really important.”

“Okay,” he whispers, seemingly unable to now look you in the eye. “I hope you’ll come back soon.”

You know what he really means when he says this is that he wants to see you at least one last time before you get married.

“Don’t worry,” you say, confidence swelling up in you. “It’ll be sooner than you think.” You hesitate for a moment as he looks up, tilting his head in curiosity. Should you offer him a goodbye kiss in case this really is the last time you speak before your wedding? If you can’t get your aunt and uncle out of your life, that’ll be the case.

No. You’ll come back for him.

You turn and open the door, sweeping into the humid outdoors, expensive car waiting to pick you up outside.

There are more than a few people at the apartment once you walk in, Jaehyun having opened the door for you. One face you weren’t expecting to see looks up at you with an amused look in his pointy eyes.

“Kim Doyoung?” you can’t help but exclaim when you see him bent over a computer.

“Thanks for not throwing up on any of the carpet,” he replies, smirking when your brother frowns.

“Sorry, what?”

“It’s nothing,” you assure him, patting his arm. “What’re you up to right now?”

“Putting things together, really.” he says. “What did you find?”

You bite your lip. “A confirmation.”

Jaehyun’s brows shoot up his face. “A what?”

You pull out your phone and then open the pictures, handing over the device so he can see. “It’s good enough to be used as evidence, right?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun says, a frown that looks more solemn than he recently had taking over his face. “It is.”

“Let me take a look,” Doyoung says, grabbing your phone from Jaehyun’s hand and taking it over to his computer.

You and Jaehyun sit down on his couch, your brother running his hands over his hair. He groans, agitation in his every movement.

“You okay?” you ask, and he nods, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“They’re going to jail, Y/N. I promise.”

Two weeks later, you wait outside the attorney’s office for Jaehyun with two cups of steaming coffee. He’d insisted you go to school rather than attend the first meeting with your lawyer, who had also been your mom and dad’s lawyer in any time of crisis. After bringing the evidence you’d collected to the police, they’d agreed that it was necessary to further investigate, and within a week had charged your aunt and uncle with first degree murder, and were looking into Choi Youngchul and the driver who’d crashed into your parents.

You haven’t seen Sungjoo and Seoyeon since before you left for Jeju, what feels like an eternity ago, and now you’re dreading seeing them in a courthouse. Despite how poorly they’ve treated you the past two years and what they did to your parents, there is a part of you that remembers them as your family.

You shake that thought off as you see Jaehyun push through the heavy door of the office lobby, walking towards you and taking his coffee with a grateful smile.

“Thanks.”

You shrug. “No problem. What’d he say?”

“Pretty confident that we’ll win,” Jaehyun says, starting to walk back towards your apartment. He had emailed Harvard about the case and they enrolled him in online courses for the semester since he wouldn’t be able to leave Korea. “We have evidence, sympathy, and if worst comes to worse, more money than them.”

You snicker, rolling your eyes. “Yeah right, like you’d ever bribe a judge. I know your morals, Jae.”

Your brother looks over, smiling. “Yours too.”

“Hmm,” you nod. “So when’s the trial?”

“Not for a while,” Jaehyun says. “There has to be the bail hearing, and then they’ll be held in custody until the charges are confirmed. Then the trial will start.”

You hum again. “I wonder if they’ll plead innocent.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “If they’re smart they’ll plead guilty and hope for a sentence where they’ll get out before they die. But I doubt it.”

“Good.” you say, sighing. “I hope they regret it, at least.”

“They will,” Jaehyun says in a self-assured tone. “By the way, have you talked to Yukhei recently?”

You bite your lip. “No, not since I came to Seoul two weeks ago.”

Jaehyun looks over at you, a knowing yet disappointed look on his face. “I figured. He texted me to ask if you’re doing well.”

“...He did?”

Your brother rolls his eyes. “You really frustrate me sometimes. I don’t understand why you push the kid away, especially now. You’re pretty much guaranteed a way out of that dumb marriage.”

You sigh. He’s right, considering what he’s just found out from your lawyer.

“I’ll call him later.” you state, trying to promise yourself more than Jaehyun. Your brother gives you a skeptical side-eye, but doesn’t say anything about it.

“Anyway, I was thinking in terms of the company…”

“See? You’re being very vague right now too.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, tugging on your hair as you watch the television intently, shifting nervously around the couch. “Why is he so dumb? Get it together, Sihyun!”

“...What did Sooji say to you?”

“I don’t like guys that seem strange. And I don’t get crushes. I’m talking about you and me. It doesn’t matter what Sooji said. Go.”

“Let’s go talk in my room-”

“Ah, right! This was your building… Let go.”

You bite down hard on your lip as the door shuts behind Taehee and she starts crying, the ending music playing.

“No!” you whine. “How am I supposed to wait another week for the next episode?”

“I can’t believe you’re watching dramas at a time like this,” Jaehyun calls from the kitchen. “When are you gonna call Yukhei? You told me you would.”

Well, normally you’re not big into dramas, but the stress of imagining what you should say to Yukhei pushed you into procrastinating doing that by binging six episodes of Tempted after coming home.

“...I will.” you call back, voice weak.

“Do it now,” Jaehyun moves into the walkway leading to the kitchen, holding your phone between two fingers. “You have no excuse, since you just said that’s the last episode of that series until next week.”

“Fine,” you grumble, pushing yourself off the couch and towards your brother. “Give me my phone.”

Jaehyun smirks, which makes you immediately nervous. “Sorry. I lied. You won’t need it.”

You frown, narrowing your eyes. “What the hell does that mean? Jaehyun, seriously, give me my phone-”

Bzzz.

You and your brother look over to the screen where anyone outside the building who wants to come to your apartment has to buzz in for approval.

And there stands Wong Yukhei, the mediocre camera picking up a blurry image of him. But no matter how blurry it might get, you would always recognize him.

“Yah,” you snap, turning to your brother, who tries to snake away. “Did you organize this?”

“You were being dramatic,” Jaehyun raises a brow.

“This is messed up,” you sigh. “I haven’t even planned what to say to him.”

“You’ve known each other for almost ten years and you have to plan what to say to him?” your brother says exasperatedly. “Just let him in, Y/N.”

You sigh again, walking over to the buzzer and pressing OK without pressing the call button first. On the screen, Yukhei lights up with a tiny smile, and then disappears as he walks into the building.

Not even five minutes later, Jaehyun has evacuated to his room and there is a knock on the door.

You stop in front of the mirror by the door before you open it, brushing your hair back from your face and blending out some creases in your makeup with your finger. You’re unsure of why, but this meeting has you far more anxious than you’ve ever really been when it comes to Yukhei. Maybe it’s because you left in such a rush a couple weeks ago.

You steel yourself, and open the door, and are quickly enveloped in a tight, warm embrace, familiar arms wrapping themselves around your sides and a familiar chin pressing into your shoulder.

You’re too nervous to say anything, so you wait until Yukhei has had his fill of holding you before stepping just slightly away and looking up at him, taking in his expression.

He looks at you with a resolution you don’t often see on him. His brows are set, his big eyes folded across so they aren’t as wide, his lips slightly parted, but something about his gaze is final- for a moment, it scares you, because final could go in many directions. But then he speaks, and all the worry you’ve built up for weeks dissipates like the steam from a kettle of tea.

“Let’s be together.” Yukhei tells you. It’s not a question, it’s his most honest statement to you. “Wherever we go, whatever happens- let’s be together.”

And all you can do, is smile up at him, and as you reach up to draw his face closer to yours, whisper a very certain, “Let’s.”

#aaaaand thats a wrap!!#phew this fic took a lot of my soul #its not perfect but i hope everyone can enjoy #and yes because i binged that drama.... reader did too haha #yukhei x reader #yukhei #lucas x reader #lucas scenarios #yukhei scenarios #nct x reader #nct oneshot #rich kid au #fic #utwt

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